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Thread: The Nail and the Hammer

  1. #1

    Default The Nail and the Hammer

    The Nail and the Hammer.

    The March was long. The slaves were many. The plunder slowed the impatient priest with its weight. In the balance weighed Ptah, The relic and of course the investment of his benefactor. His benefactor, imprisoned in the void, tied to that worthless slave Paks. His mind twisted with anger as he sought ways to hurt her for her treason.
    The high priest stared at the nail. Course, cold and iron rested against the Cimmerians flesh. The soldier peered in the direction of the aging Priest seated amongst the Army. The Army now more loyal and trusting fat with victory. They even ‘loved’ him for a time for He had finally brought them the victory and the spoils they had been promised after a year of war far from him. Silverchair’s eyes were void as the Cimmerian cursed obscenities in the name of Crom and spit on the mans gleaming helm mixing with the dried blood and slipping to the groung. He didn’t move or respond.
    The high priests glance shifted past the hammer as it met force with flesh. Time moved slower as the commonly applied torture was blocked by an image of a face. He stretched his mind and spirit into the universe breathing attempting to feel for him as he once did his mother hoping for a shred of direction. “Where were you?”
    He could feel his hands upon her throat. He could feel his weight upon her flesh. He remember his blood upon her as he thrust into her madly clinging to the life. He would not be slain again. Until all were one. She was a part of that destiny. The sacred mother of the Savior. Ptah’s mind was more sacred then her crimes against him or the House. The House of Jade Asp was meaningless before the task at hand. He knew it, Neverlin knew it. Of course he would relish the opportunity to see her suffer for her affront, but as long as Ptah lived he could never harm her.
    Her body was beyond corruption. Only the suffering of those she cared for would teach her to confront me.
    As if awakening from a sleep the captives long march ended, “I want Alfadurr and Wolfsen captured alive! Crucify every Wolfrunner you come across, offer the tribal leaders gold and fair treatment for information as to his whereabouts. Let the suffering of their people draw her to me! Prepare to bolster the defenses of Ft. Bane against all Cimmerian retaliation. We will hold this foothold until they are captured and Paks begs for forgiveness bearing my child in her arms! *growling forth the words to Silver and his elite gaurd*

    Paks *he muttered into the spirit realm as if attempting to speak with her as they had done many yers ago* this must come to pass. He is the vessel! He must fulfill the prophecy. This child is not mine, not yours he is the will of the Father and the Mother. You must not fight destiny my love.

    The high priest turned to the necromancer, the body of Arrax, have you found it? Let us she if she remembers suffering. Bring me Batkalim!
    Satet-ka High Priest of Set

  2. #2

    Default The Mother

    Her hand stills over the bolt of Khitan silk, ignoring the obsequious merchant. She could sense Satetka ... his hatred, the madness staining the edges of everything. Fragments flashing in her mind, words at odds with the visions. Her hand touches her throat remembering his claws digging in ... and further back in time ... the flash of his dagger as he sliced open her belly on the battlefield. The cry of her first son as darkness claimed her. She sways and braces herself.

    "Lady Asp? Do you not like the fabric? It is the finest you will ever find. And the purple will do justice to the Prince's hair."

    "He is the vessel! He must fulfill the prophecy."

    "Are you well? Can I bring you wine?"

    "... not mine, not yours ... the will of the Father ... and the Mother

    "You must not fight destiny my love."

    She bares her teeth, fist tightening in the shimmering fabric. "Destiny is mutable, priest." she growls in a low tone as the merchant flutters away making inarticulate noises. "You do not know love, only obsession."

    Smoothing her features, she turns as gracefully as she can "The entire bolt of fabric and the gold trim." her voice is strained. "No, I do not care to haggle. Your price is fair enough."

    The merchant looks after her as she glides away, he turns and snarls to his son to package the goods and send them to Seppermeru.

    "D-d-destiny? P-p-priest?!? Perhaps it is time for us to move our goods to Luxur." he turns and snaps at his guard "The schedule is moved up. We travel to Luxur now instead of at the end of the season."

    He watches the woman. Slave, concubine, matron ... it did not matter what she was called. As sure as the taxes were rising, there was trouble coming.
    Satet-ka High Priest of Set

  3. #3

    Default The Father

    Love is Not Selfish

    He could feel her now. The connection was faint but somehow the risen temple of Xotli magnified the effect of the rings. The night was cold and long. He could hear the wail of slaves and the occasional battle as another thwarted raid fell upon the column. Several ravens mingled with the spirits and all seemed to stare at him. They moved and swayed their bodies and the cries and moans seemed to crescendo into a matra. A reverie fell upon him as he entered a trance reaching into the ether of space.
    Dearest, What do you know of Love my Love?
    Did the lessons of Arrax not change you? Will you refuse to be molded even by God? Why would he have chosen you to bear my child? Do you think this child belongs to you?
    Well….do you?
    You have long placated the desires of your own inadequacies before that of God. Hidden beneath the faith of the Mother you have served, yet denying that it was She that willed Ptah into this world.
    True love is sacrifice.
    I did not ask for this life. I did not ask to become the voice of Amun. This yoke was placed upon me by Set.
    I have given everything, not for myself, but for the people of this world. I have lost myself to become a servant of the one true God. We have both sacrificed much. I have long surrendered to the will of God. I have long lost the will to live for myself. I tried to guide you down that path. In many ways you have guided me upon the path. Instead, you wallow in self-pity playing slave before man after man but bereft of vision, bereft of purpose.
    You are the sacred mother, more than that you are my friend and love. I beg you not to force my hand. I have done my best to prepare the boy for what is to come. You must allow me to continue his preparations. I did not deny you your time with him, and yet you spent it in a bottle while you gave his tender years to …to…Her. Now, yet again, under the false guise of a caring mother you have left him. Again. Stop lying to yourself, my Love. He needs me. You are no mother and I suppose I am no father, however, this charge is upon us given by Ptahs creator for a divine purpose. You and I both agree on that.

    What is it you wish?
    Satet-ka High Priest of Set

  4. #4


    The link grew stronger. He could feel her. He could smell her. Her back arched under the press of the Prince. He began to move with the Prince echoing his movements. When he kissed her, he also kissed her. When he beat her, he could feel both the pain and the pleasure of it. When he released himself inside her it was as though he were there dripping in the pleasure of it. He tried hard to cast the desire and the pleasure from his mind but the three were inescapably linked. He remembered Setneka. He remembered Mandisa. Hatred soon brought him back to clarity as his spirit form sneered at the relaxed and sleeping Paks. He caressed her throat gently remembering its fagility.
    You see? Even now you prove your base nature. Spend your life in carnal pleasure. You have done your duty by carrying Ptah. Do not pretend to lecture me on the steps I must take to ensure his destiny. Where were you? You have not cared for him. You abandoned him not once but now again and call yourself mother.
    We are not born into this world merely to survive. Some squander their gifts slinking from bed to bed and turn from their callings. Some of us sacrifice a life of pleasure to perform a higher purpose. I am not driven by madness or ego. I did not shy from death, no like you I welcome it. I do not seek to bring death or destruction, nor is it my will or my ego that summoned this force or its purpose. This is a will of a people long bereft of duty. We have hidden in the sands forsaking the great calling that was given to us. We were the only spared the great cataclysm. We were the only that survived with the knowledge of the ancient ways. With the truth of one true God not lost in the ignorance of darkness and apostasy. You utter the words until all are one but you repeat them only as a parrot for her master, or perhaps a Raven. You do not understand the words.
    The people of the north will not be left. I have left Queen Nafertiri in the North to see them cared for and administered. We have many clan leaders who have given the lives of their warriors to restore peace in the North. Now they will assume the mantle bought by their sacrifice. Ariathan, Frothi and many others stand ready to reclaim their titles lost during the long winter set upon them by the Dog King of Aquilon. Safe and warm he let the Vanir and Yrmish destroy and pillage in the North and sow darkness and suffering. We have come to end that nightmare and restore Hyboria to peace, order and worship.
    Now then little one, crawl back into your bottle or your bed. Return me my Son you graciously bore for this world, and if you will not step up to the task of doing the hard things which must be done then stand aside so that no more have to suffer for your insolent and arrogant mistakes.

    What is this I sense you seeking Paks?
    Satet-ka High Priest of Set

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