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Post by galoko on Aug 9, 2014 2:26:55 GMT
(Author's Note: This is merely a thead base on the proposed idea of how humans worked from centuries ago, the cultures they came from, and the areas they now inhabit. Names are subject to change, upon request. Merely 'Old World' lore.)
World of Xeia(Working Title) - Proposed "Human History" Lore
Markandr
The start of this great world on the precipice of its recorded history coming to light, speaks thus of three olden cultures arriving from all corners of the world as early as one hundred and sixty five(165) after the dawning of our Gods. From the northlands came the great mountain dwellers, whose structures and mines still hold many secrets and potential for unfathomable riches and distincts of even more ancient history: The Markandr. These people had weathered skin, and the closeness to the tundra forced them to rely on perfecting their artisanry and their great prowess with weapons. These were a great people of military prowess and tactical reasoning and were a great driving force that fought against the giants of the wood and the many strange beasts that would emerge from all around. Their leader, Arkhis Markandr was a man that history would dedicate as a barbarian or even a tyrant depending what kind of culture tells the olden story. These people were tall and brutish monsters, fighting through the ict and dwellers of the mountain and much of their history and traditionalism was left in a grand sacrifice to the Olden Gods, a spectacle that once would last for three days straight before it came to an end. During this time, they would mark themselves with many tattoos or inkings detailing every grand feat or battle, some of them even going so far as to engrave a very ballad amongst the expanses of their skin. In these olden days, it was not uncommon for any of these people to marry particularly young and it is something they take very seriously. A marriage for them is quaint, traditional, and a grand celebratory feast would often leave many a man and woman stumbling to their homes amongst the cracks and even partaking some of their lives in caverns. Married couples would rarely seperate, as both would be at fault for the relationship drifting apart.
In this manner, some would lose their cultural and family names and become doomed to walk the world as nameless drifters, without any sort of clothing upon their back and no weapon given to protect them through the harsh nights.
Zazari
From the South would come those of the Desert, these strange dark colored nomads. Technologically they were far superior to the other two cultures in comparison , many of them being able to hand pump water out of the ground and into a freshly dug well, with but a few hands and a short amount of time would deem fit to bring new life into their civilization. But what they had in technology they did not make up for in advancements in curing sicknesses or disease. One would attribute their downfall to their being too physically weak to begin defenses for their towns people and their culture. These were a people who worshipped the sun and the moon and the stars, often in the direction of the volcano near their expansive territory. MAny expeditions nto the underground often bring up even further secrets, and these tombs would immediately be christened a name before even entering. Names hold power for these people, and with every name comes what they are in life. It was not uncommon for these people to take upon themselves some shortenings of their own name to call each other, for superstition that if you were to speak the whole name of a person you were allowing the desert spirits and the creatures that burrow beneath the sands themselves to have dominion and the allowance to enter and potentially corrupt one's life. Whilst their numbers were in fact small, they managed to keep a steady supply of colorful and extravagant clothing, trying to keep light within themselves and emotional warmth around their streets. They did not have wines to drown their sorrows, instead keeping to the fruits of the deserts. Many a time berry will be ground into a paste and much of the water around them purified to make the salts within crystallize and bemixed into that, forming an impromptu drink that would offer some sense of sweetness in the harsh sands in which they lived. When male children of this Culture turned of age, they were told to wander the desert on a pilgrimage to be given wisdom.
At least half the time, some of these people were never seen again, often called "The Lost Ones" in the old Zazari culture. Those who returned had wives found for them immediately and the wisdom would be shared between the new spouses. Marriage for these people as a ceremony is fairly childish, only allowing a contract to the spirits and essences around them to guide their hand, not some shaman. Divorce is fairly treated, many times the community coming together into the couple's home and their situation would be fairly explained, all possessions coming to a fair consensus of who should have what. No one is ever turned away from home amongst the Zazari, as family and community mean much to them, so no one was ever exiled no matter what their crimes.
Jail, however, is another story.
Roshana
Compared to the might of the Markandr and the technology of the Zazari, the Roshana are still a culture that still remains under a careful light. These were a people who were some of the earliest practicioners of the Arts of Magicks; Their original settlement was towards more of the eastern edge of the continent, keeping mostly to themselves and their arts. Some of them used magic for many a different thing, with none of them actually being alike Some of them would lift things with their mind, some others would eat things and then unleash a long stream of fire, from using the old as their power source. They were a truly secluded people, and while not as detail oriented as the others, they made up for it in clear power and strength. No two were alike in their prowess. Many of their young were taught some of the secrets of the arcane right at a young age, even if the rare few amongst their kind did not seem to directly have the power they seemed to carry within their vary blood. History shows us that the lack of power did not stop some of these rare few. Many people outright say that some of the olden Roshana in fact hold some of the fighting spirit within them often seen in the major commanders of legions, or even in some of the travelling monks that sailed across the world in pilgrimage. Regardless, their traditions often got questionably dark and violent, with some of their kin(Namely, mid to late twenties, early thirties) being put through a test, or rather a Harrowing, in order to fully unlock their powers--effectively placing them in a life or death struggle. Those who returned from these escapades seemed to have specialization and increased powers. Only a few days past this point would these Awakened be given rest before the secrets of the world would be searched for. A people steeped in Mysticism, it was said the first active occupation of their territory spawned some of the very reasons that Magic today is looked upon with suspicion, but the rest of their people readily accepted their fate.
They had no government and were ruled by committee, but its considered a touch of irony that the city in which many modern humans live today was once where their shacks, and their makeshift libraries once lay.
--
History up to a certain point, more to come.
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Post by galoko on Aug 18, 2014 23:51:21 GMT
A Hard Lesson
The earliest human foray--and downfall--in human history, at least that was recorded, came from the Markandr's progression of societal structure. From their homes in the mountains, the great nothern culture found themselves awash with resources such as iron or steel, bronze, copper, and even found buried treasure beneath the stones. The culture was finally advancing and beginning to turn their homes that were guarded from the elements and the sunlight into a legitimate town, amongst the great crags that they called home. Many pieces of dark marble and stone were carefully implanted in careful and symmetrical succession, crafting a road almost across to the Frostfall Tundra. With their vast amounts metals came the possibility of minting coins, and history would dictate that the 'Honor' of the first true minter of coin would be Vastrad Silvermane. With his newly fashioned tools, the old barter and trade system of before was slowly abolished with some of the traditionalists in their society finding more value in the ability to trade food and arms than in something that could come in a satchel or a small wooden box. The economy was then established in this era, becoming dependant on internal sources and many travelling merchants. The Silvermane clan soon ascended to the top of the social ladder, claiming their successful implementation of wealth as the very essence of what their traditions should be made off of. Historians would then claim, from old documents, that the Markandr strived to become a driving force in the world of Xeia. But with coin, came many social and martial problems. When influence was given to the families who began gaining the most coin, the gap between the rich and poor became a veritable chasm that created discontent; When those who once lived humble lives gazed upon the uprising of Matrician and Patrician families, laying upon their great thrones and laying own both sword and pick for simple wanton desires and luxury...
Riots began to break out.
The lower classes of the Markandr began to rebel, taking their finely crafted steel and beginning to cut a swath through the mountain structures. Blood littered the streets, and many of those who had been slowly employed to guard the city streets from attacks by any outside invaders found their heads in pikes. Fires spread through their ancestral stone homes, babies were butchered along with their parents, friends fought friends in an all out civil war. During this time period, the major Family N Names amongst the Markandr culture consisted of the Silvermane, the Runavar, and the Galvr. In a political stance, the Galvr rallied their own private guards and called for the traitors to be executed, crafting a day that became known as the "Day of Darkness". Both Rebel and Guard escalated in their fighting. One of these incursions that ultimately caused the downfall of the Markandr's society was in fact caving in one of the Families' mines with strategic uses of black powder, leaving several dozen people to suffocate in the stone city's underbelly. This would prove to be an ultimate undoing: The mines began to spew out natural gasses, as the explosions caused massive earthquakes that rocked the city to its core. The gas began to seep up through the cracked roads and filled the air, forcing many to drop their weapons and belongings--some even their own family members or comrades--and run out the path into the wilderness. Behind them, flames engulfed their once beloved home, and the Markandr found themselves all ousted, and equal with one anotherin title and status. Many of them were disarmed and only very few had made it out with any sort of supplies. Amongst these survivors lay the older Vastrad Silvermane, who saw what his work had cost him. A hopeful new era of prosperity that had been born of giving a meager tinker a chance to make a dream become reality and the lesson had been learned far too late: Progress comes at a cost.That night, enemy laid amongst enemy, exhausted from the toils, and weakening from hunger. Survivors awoke in the wilderness, only to find the once famous first true minter of coin was hanging from a tree.
So began the Wandering; Enemies had found themselves once again fashioning tools from wood and stone, roaming through the lands without a place to call home. A couple of attempts to try and settle down roots with homes made of wood had ultimately failed, due to a sickness that had arisen from exposure to the new parts of the land and the new creatures therein called the "Black Rot". Victims are first afflicted with chills, then uncontrollable perspiration that culminated in drops of black liquid coming out from the pores and the eyes, before violent seizures and hemorraging had claimed their lives hours, or even days later. Many of the original horde of survivors had been cut down from this malady: Approximately 35% of their remaining population was now dead. The rapid onset and high mortality rate created panic and despair, leading peole to curse out at the monsters and spirits that surrounded them, with many of their kin being left and buried behind. It was here that they stumbled upon one of their Nameless brothers: Arkhis, once of the Markandr. It was a surprirse to see his kin so many years later with many of them suffering from great ills, and the news of what had happened to their home. When asked how he had come to survive, as was when those were nameless after dishonoring family or marriage were sent out with no weapons or supplies, the man had claimed to find a civilization that remained amongst the mountains that had taken him in. The day's wandering turned into a journey to find these people, leading them to the Shantytown that had once the name of "Selara" in olden history. The true surprise was not the fact there were fair skinned humans living amongst the land with active farms and livestock, but that the people that lived in this town were stretching out their bodies and essences, raising the very ground and furthering the growth of the crops, using creatures from the very Void themselves to till the fertile soil.
The Markandr had found the Roshana Tribe.
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Post by galoko on Aug 21, 2014 0:47:08 GMT
Early Roshana History and Creation of the Walls
The Roshana culture's earliest recorded historical significance is mostly in lore and debated to be fictitious, but its largely agreed many traditions that are still being used today come from them. The purest example of early racial tribes or societies in the First Age, these people were fair of skin, by no means particularly favoring the pale, tall statures of the Markandr or the brown or even darker skins of the olden Zazari culture. The stories of their creation favorited their deity being a five headed dragon, each corresponding to an individual element. Many carvings and murals also dictate that the Dragon of their religion only had one individual eye, green as the leaves of the trees, that each of the five heads had to share in equal measure. Texts of their version of the story of creation still remain to this day, but all records remain hazy. Many historians and even the Archbishop or Clergy of the city that was built on the sweat and tears of the Old Ones refutes that this deity may have ever actually existed at all, despite the outcry of its Roshana people who could be traced to those days, deeming their heritage as sacred. To further demonstrate this opinion, the Five HEaded Dragon was depicted by artists and scribes to be naught more than a greater Demon, not the thing that had been wrought in fantastical tales or prayers to be the sole creator of the world, opposed only by visions of light and truth, not the primordial essence of what was spoken within this shot excerpt:
"On the day of creation, the Grand Dragon woke, its first breath came the creation of the world, and perhaps the worlds beyond.
The earth was formless, and shapeless, and the great one looked upon the rock, and was amazed.
The Dragon's maw gave one word, and then the Lands formed.
The Dragon's heart gave one beat, and then the Waters formed.
The Dragon's mind gave one thought, and then the Trees formed.
The Dragon's blood gave one drop, and the Mortals formed.
The Dragon's power gave one spark, and then the Soul formed."
These were written then, under the name of the "Five Pillars", inscribed upon stones, which today reside in the Library for gazing. A constant reminder of what was given to them and not to take it for granted. The Roshana went into the sacred Arts, which today men call "Magic" or the "Arcane" in current history. to them, the arcane was used to honor the Dragon by pouring themselves into the world in an attempt to heal or create anew. Their society was based on the marker of achievements and overall wisdom. Instead of stone which they were surrounded by, many of the oaken or yewian trees had been chopped down with stone axes and hewn into rectangular boards to create cabins. Their main staple foods consisted of their farming and domestic animals for meat and hides. Belief was abound that by partaking in the fruits and fat of the land they would have a pure existence. Social hiercarchy was determined by the amount or quality of discoveries made in their lifetime, not their powers or even their natural ability to delve into the spiritual realms, or even pull certain things from them. As a people they delved into the ideology of anthropology and began to openly keep records of the world around them and store them away for their children's children to learn from as they aged. Only one man during the time period of the alliance between the Markandr and the Roshana was known to "Rule" over these people and held many strange powers even unknown as of yet to the very people whose life's focus was to unravel the mysteries on their world: A man named "Aurah Nisbein".
Under his leadership, the Veil was nigh within their reach, but their ties to the outside world were all but severed. Dealing with the Markandr was reportedly quite a struggle initially, especially as the one person they had allowed into their way of life had brought them to the shantytown.
When the two cultures looked upon each other from the outside and in, both sides were equally afraid of each other, and the people of the north looked starved beyond belief. A grand feast was held that day, containing mostly fruit and heavy slices of meat from local herds of oxen. Many of their people still held the Black Rot but surprisingly it never spread that far to the pont of any actual deaths. Many of the Healers that remained in this knowlegable society took it upon themselves to take care of the sick, wounded and dying. Aurah Nisbein and Arkhis debated long and hard about letting these people in, and consume their resources which were only notably prepared for their own lifestyle; They did not eat much and often took one day of fasting a week in order to compensate for outwardly expressing and experimenting with their own strange philosophical ideas, inverting it into a single day of starvation to think and meditate on one's life. It was notable very quickly that the Markandr believed in spirits and a large number of the other strange things that lay behind the curtain of their world, but they did not care for the teachings that the Roshana could in fact have offered them. Instead once the Markandr fulfilled their duties to their own health, a massive raiding party went outward into the wilderness with new resolve and took the lives of the livestock that lay behind the shantytown's borders, butchering them for meat and hides and even taking a few extra trophies. After a quick return the Markandr--namely Arkhis at the time--brought them before the Scion of the tribe, and Aurah looked upon them with much disdain and his countenance had fallen. It was clear these people simply itended to repay the kindness given to their sick and weary, so he could not be angry.
But it was later dictated and made clear that could not happen again, because the more one took from the heart of the forests and the wilds, the more hardship would have to be endured by their people in the coming year.
Days turned into months, and months turned into a year. The two cultures were coming together and beginning to branch outwardly to accommodate the need for their own peoples to survive. Many of the Northman named Aurah a prophet, during the next year as his prediction that the people within the valley would come in vengeance for the Northman's own attempt at kindness. One eve on a particularly bright night, illuminated by a seemingly enlarged moon, tragedy struck the shantytown. Many man-sized creatures charged through the mountain pass on the back of large wolves, black as night, intending to seize the settlement of Selara. The opponents of human kind were faced with squat, broad, sallow-skinned, people with pig-like noses and tusks jutting out of their lower jaw. Many of the Roshana had named them the "Orkish", having no choice but to defend themselves with their astounding magicks and contacts from beyond the world, whilst the Markandr slung their great weapons and combatted the great pigbeasts. Both Cultures, North and Eastern found their numbers suddenly cut short even with the sudden decimation and escape of many of human-kind's seeming enemies. Both self elected and de-facto leaders of the Tribes met that eve to bury their dead and to converse on the subject. Aurah openly urged that the Markandr find some way to balance their wrongdoing, no matter how innocent it was of their people, while the Northmen called for the complete and total eradication of these strange beasts.
The talks lasted long into the morning, with little to no compromise, and by that time the only agreement was that there now needed to be some sort of defensive supposition put in so that they would not come under attack again and have more of their own kin meet a short end.
Stone was gathered for the first time in Roshana history by their reluctant alliance partners, and the ancestral walls that would persist today many years later were built. It was in this time that the great scourge that were the Orkish, or the "Orcs" as a shortening continued their onslaught even as the builders scurried around the warriors and the magicians, continuing their work and began erecting a wall even taller than the many pale skinned northerners themselves. The advent of defensive and tactical positions chased the orcs away, exhausting well over a thousand bricks on both sides, even having to put up a separate wall conjoining them together to protect from across the mountain and the waters. The Orkish had taken to lighting their arrows, and volleying them from a small ship and striking all of the wooden structures to burn them down. Granite, marble, if there was a resource among-st the pass, they were quickly exploited and erected, standing places put in place for the Markandr archers to take cover and fire back. The Orkish were put on the defensive, the casualty rate reversing from human kind to the very beings who had started the first hostile sect of the conflict. It was not long at all before the piggish beasts were run out of town. The festival to honor the dead and to promote purity took place in the same day and the thanks were given to the gods and the things that lay Beyond the Veil, good or evil that deemed to help them in their victory this day. A stone structure was built just across the River Axiom, a testament to those who gave their lives for the betterment of their merged societies. Sarcophagi and catacombs were placed among the structure and below for the bodies to naturally decompose and for every fallen man woman and child, a plaque was made with their Family Names, and a short version of their life's story. Despite the period of mourning, and the clear tactical superiority over their newfound enemies...
For now, they were Safe.
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Post by galoko on Aug 31, 2014 21:43:09 GMT
Revolts, Uprising, Darkness, and Faith
The walls continued to hold steady against invading forces and the spirit of a bloodied people slowly returned. The two leaders of the individual tribes, Arkhis--who was regifted the name of the Markandr to be his surname for aiding his people, and Aurah of the Roshana are both deemed heroes for their planning anfd their styles of combat that ultimately aided in the onslaught against their own kind. The stories of the olden Second Age tell that the Markandr and the Roshana seemed to be an almost perfect fit, with their steel complementing the Arts that their allies would wield, and the celebrations of a victory lasted for three days and three nights, where all made merry. Several decades passed since that fateful day, with the Orkish becoming quite the considerable foe along with the giants that were making their ways down from the Northern Mountain passes . Some theory persists that the hulkish beasts were forced to flee because of the natural gasses that even today still claim the old area of Stonehearth continued to spew forth and caused death of their food sources and even some of their own kind and forced them to migrate. It is within these days the stone and the iron were mined out of the local mountains, many of the usable stuffs in the immediate vicinity coming down to only sport hardened gravel, alongside the once plentiful supply or ore diminishing at such a rapid rate it was almost impossible to keep up with the demand. Arkhis Markandr decreed with the blessing of the Roshana that there needed to be a well made and active road coming out of the new walls of the town <Town Name>, and that expeditions would be made out into the wilderness to gain the resources they needed.
Fighter and miner alike tread this strange road, making encampments out in the nearby parts of the wildlands, carving out the stone and even using professional stone crafting to begin construction of waypoints that would establish a guard foothold, making a secure route to branch out into the other mountains and return scores of carvable stone home on horseback. During this voyage, much of the original facades of coin came back into circulation instead of the barter system. The age old Minter's face had been placed upon the coin, and succinctly named Denarus, after the Silvermane's own grandson who had taken up his ancestor's work and many ideals of trade and hiring ventures became the standard once more in a very short time, finding more value in gold coins than simple weaves of cloth or even the seeds of the fields that were still small due to the lack of space in the local area.
It took many months but the roads were finally taking shape, spreading towards the town and even out into the north, joining in with the roads of Stonehearth that were old and weathered, furnishing them anew. Some were lost in the effort, from roving brigand ambushes or even other strange beasts lurking in the wilderness, but their influence was expanding throughout the wilderness. Upon returning home from the long voyage out in the wildernesses, many came to the home of their leader and called for him to be crowned for bringing them out of the community, claiming that their own spirits and ancestors had personally brought him out into the wilderness that fateful day, unceremoniously and almost unanimously voted within the tribe of the Markandr, the once wayward son found his position to be that of a Steward of the people and a lord over the people. Aurah, now much older and wizened from the years of conflict and sudden progression of their culture found himself openly decrying and denouncing the Markandr people quite distinctly within the newly crafted forum, saying that rulership should be unanimous on both sides, not some ploy made by a singular people with no consent for whose land they were standing on in the first place. Despite Arkhis' own protests against it, a massacre breaks out amongst the two cultures and tribes, forcing many of the Roshana supporters out the front gate. Many of the magically inclined Roshana are amongst this number and find themselves enraged to be purged of a place that had been their birthright their entire history and their entire lives.
Aurah spat upon the walls that had saved many a person, and swears vengeance upon the Markandr for their senseless ways and their stubborn pride refusing to acknowledge anyone but their own kind in the grand upbringing. In this recording, this is not untrue, many of the books remain of the Markandr say that that their culture was solely responsible for the construction of their new home, and the Roshana only offered their hospitality.
Among the remaining Roshana that did not want to fight and even made a point of fleeing to the neighboring swamplands to avoid the conflict found themselves rather lost and without true cultural identity. Many of the secrets and olden stories of their own existence fled out of the city under the cover of the moonlight, because of the Northerners' attempt at politics that went awry. Arkhis, only now a leader--now named a Steward--amongst them, preached his values and shamed those who created the bloodbath in the town square, actually agreeing with Aurah that it shouldn't be just one type of people that decides that and even publicly declares that their wayward friends were free to return for some peaceful negotiations and even some attempt at reconciliation. Some people that had been in hiding returned but the old wizened man and his followers could not be found. Suddenly without cultural identity, the wayward people found themselves floundering, adopting some of the neighboring people's own individual beliefs as their own as a substitute, some small sects whilst some others began to write upon parchment and documented some of the things of the Roshana history that had been left behind in the aftermath, to be preserved for the future. The common dabbling in the arcane arts had for the time being fled the burgeoning town, leaving many to fend for themselves in the physical way. Tinkers and engineers alike began to work their ways and began to make the first pangs of technology: Clocks, gears, anything that clicked or turned became for same on the open market, offering some development to their only infantile culture. It was debated amongst many philosophers that the human kind was forced to adapt far too quickly, aiming to ruin themselves right into the ground but many of those who believed otherwise simply dismissed the issue.
Then came the birth of the Church.
It was a strange day, only a month after the flight of magicians and the sworn vengeance of those wronged where a man who proclaimed himself to be a Prophet of a Goddess under the name of came unto the the scattered remnants of then-known humankind, and preached about his life in the wilds. The man was recordedly mixtures of Markandr, and some other sort of culture that had passed into the winds and had since been forgotten. A man who had come overseas to see the rest of the world, and to bring "Divine Light" to those who may have never come to know the name: Desdomonia, who carries the symbol of a serpentine beast with great white scales and a sword of foreign legend that was made from the fang of a mythical beast. Some thought his ideals fanciful, but there was a strange flock that gathered under him, supported by Arkhis and the Markandr. The idea of this goddess spread like wildfire, as great deeds had been enacted in Her name. One of these acts, themselves led to a prevention of direct Black Rot outbreak that spread to their town from the infectious parts of the Wilds: The well that once lay within town was the source of water for many people, without going out to the lake on their own. The Prophet walked up to it and gazed within, marveling that the men and women of the town had become able to siphon the very works of the earth from the ground on their own. Upon peering further, words of prophecy poured forth from his mouth that many found perplexing: "A calamity will soon befall the water within this well. Seal it up at once, that none may drink of it in the future." Some of those who did not believe in the Prophet's words wrote him off and the well remained open to the public. Only those who were a part of the flock that did not partake in the drinking or use of the water were saved from what happened next.
Some days later, the Black Rot visited their settlement that laid in the crags, and most of those who drank the well's tainted water succumbed to the plague and succumbed to the after world. Only those people or families who heeded the prophetic words were spared from death and malady. After the incident with the well, those who did not believe, began to truly heed this man's words and treated him as a portent of miracle and child of the the heavens. garnering the majority of public attention and led to many of the tenants that would become part of the Faithful's Doctrine and became known as the Holy Edict, of which has been placed within many scriptures in the libraries to date:
"Heralds born of Light , speak and allow your hearts to listen, lest they fall into absolute Dark. Blessed are those who follow the goodly path, and you shall be cherished until the stars fall from the sky. Cursed will be those who travel the path of unrighteousness: The ones who cause wailing, and famine. Those who bring about the gnashing of your teeth. Hear My words, for I speak with the hopes of Heaven.
Edict I: Allow the firm hand of Justice to be tempered by Heart, so that your fellows may be given fairness.
Edict II: Follow the life of Charity, and desire Spiritual Gifts rather than what a man prophecy. I call for those to speak the words, so that they may know, but do not follow the words of a questionable man; If your heart sees falsehood, then move away from him.
Edict III: To fight for one's livelihood is not a sin, but to shy away from adversity does not a valorous spirit make. You are Man, but as long as your heart holds the wrong and fights to right the injustice, keep your fires blazing in the night.
Edict IV: Giving your Generosity to the Poor will give you my blessing and protection, but give only what you must. A spark can ignite a flame, surely, but if you keep giving a Man will become complacent. Those who have no home, yet still beg despite their pronounced faith and riches of the soul is not a righteous Man.
Edict V: Keep these words to your hearts, but allow your Spirituality to become your guide. Freedom does not come without its questions, but abuse of the human soul will cause ultimate downfall."
The doctrines were thus named, and many wet their way to try and erect a Cathedral to the Lady of the Light. It was a grand place, able to hold many and took many days to build, inspiration of the goddess inspiring the masses to build a place of faith for the town anew, casting out the spirits of old in the favor of this righteous figure. The Clergy that resulted came from abroad, where the man that humanity would know as Sores Alieone. When he and the Prophet met one another they embraced and held each other in open arms. It was a sight to behold, the fruits of labor rewarding the populace with feast and festival, with Arkhis himself came to view the works of the Faithful and cordially invited the Prophet himself to take a roll of leadership alongside him, attempting to make a true council that worked for the people. However, the offer was refused, instead nominating his much younger predecessor to bring forth the priesthood and to form the Missionary, whose idealism was to spread religious interest and the common chores of field work, or even special spiritual help to strengthen the livelihood of those who who would come to ask for it, or even confess their past misdeeds unto the men and women of the cloth. The Prophet departed, placing his trust into what was left behind, and was never seen again to this date. A renaissance of beliefs and ideals sprung <Town Name> in a new light and a code to live by. The Church was created, and their first test came from the times and the notable figures of the olden years. Arkhis walked among-st his guards, nearing old age and looked out to the beginnings of the fields and the stones.
Several figures in black rose to the forefront of the gates from the shadows, and looked up to address him. One of them lowered their hoods: Aurah, the Guide of the Roshana, stood there with grey hair and a dishevelled complexion. The Steward greeted his old friend with an open heart, but the words of the man who had fled and had returned made their reunion grow cold: "You have ruined our way of life. You bring in false and lying gods, and you have disrupted the ways of our people and our world. From here forth, we are your enemies." The olden one had taken upon himself special rites lost to history, slowly corrupting his form and turning him into what Human history would deem a "Lich"; A special type of immortality that would come at the loss of one's body and the rotting of one's soul. The Noctus Initium made themselves known, calling forth an army from deserts abroad and the catacombs made to commemorate those who once were. The tombs lit on fire, the rotted corpses raising and marching towards their home. A bloody battle ensued with the damned, the Initium not even raising a hand. Instead, they watched the chaos unfold with solemn hearts and watched the desiccated remains of their former compatriots to claim lives and limb. The battle lasted well into the night, with the clash of swords echoing into the forests. Many others lost their lives, but the message was clear. The town had a new enemy, which had since vanished after delivering themselves. The Seven of the Initium, plus their Master performing dark rites and dark magicks. It was with a heavy heart, that the group was directly placed on a kill on sight list, with heavy bounties rewarding their capture or demise. In the aftermath, during the smoke and ashes, the rebuilding began but one of the scouting parties looked towards the southern mountains to find another people.
The Zazari had been discovered, their home razed and populated by the damned, even still today.
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