Post by Mysti on Jul 6, 2007 7:29:22 GMT -5
1. Sarn and the Priestess
Are we to say that the writing has been done? That where once the river flowed, now the cracked earth withers in the heat? Dust on your feet, oh where will ye find water to wash it off, so that ye may enter clean the temple's courtyard and there within address the Priestess as she stands in robes of white?
Golden chains and rings adorn her. Her robes are of purest white. Hair of jet black straight cascades. She raises arms and all are silent. Looking straight at me with emerald eyes she enters deep within my precinct. Truth she will have and ne'er be deceived. This angel of the Mother, daughter of the Earth's seed.
In an instant knows she why I have come. A clap of the hands and all around disperse
"Come," she says, we will retire to the inner chamber. There ye may quench your thirst
And so we move, our shadows black on the white stone flags as the sun beats down, unmerciful. Into the inner court of the Temple we precede. The second ring we pass, and enter then the holiest of doors into the third. Alone, the priestess loses none of her power. The soldiers outside protect her from all but sorcery and the whims of her peers I think. She knows I pose no threat.
Pouring water into a cup, from a fresh tinkling fountain that graces the center of her room, the priestess hands me the cup
"Drink!" She says, and it feels like a command
"Speak!" It is a command
Refreshed by the water I tell her the reason why i have come
"Far away in the western corner of this empire," I tell her
"disaster has struck us. Where once green glades ran with the laughter of our children and the abundant water of spring, now there is nothing except dry cracked earth. The trees are withered, our animals starved. Babies are dying. The summer is hotter than it has ever been. Men once strong and able to till their fields now stumble and stagger with their ploughs trying to plant and nurture just a few seeds to grow a bare and meagre ration for their families.
Us, My Priestess. Once we were called the Land of Abundance. Now we are the land of the damned."
"I was the fittest of all of the men who volunteered to come here. We knew that only the fittest could survive the long journey. I and the second fittest set out at the end of the hot sumnmer season. Travelling before that would have killed us both. As it was it killed my companion."
The priestess commands me to shed my garment. I see her gasp as she notes my protruding ribs and thin legs.
"Now priestess. We must have help." My voice quavers.
"Good Sarn," she knows my name although I haven't told her.
"I see your pain, and through holding your robe, I see clearly the pain from which you have come. The days of your sorrow are numbered." she says.
It is good enough for me. I sense something withdraw from me. It was the priestess. She has been supporting me with her energy. Suddenly I feel weak and then I slowly collapse to the floor.
I had been a student of the Arts before the pestilence had come to our green and fair land.Then after a short time of famine, all schools closed, and students, as well as all able bodied children were sent to work on the land to work with all of the community, to save us. I understand much of the Priestess' work on a theoretical basis. I know the awesome power of the crystal towers which support all of Atlantis.
"Thank you Priestess," I send with my mind. I see her eyes widen slightly, and then I lose consciousness.
2. The Guard and the Sun Jewel
A tale of Atlantis the beautiful I will tell ye. The soldier bold does go from the temple running an errand for his Lady, the Priestess of the Western Tower. Confident and bold moves he through the crowded markets of fair Atlantis, sniffing the scents on the breeze.
Heading so clearly for the darkened shop in the corner of the courtyard where the breezes whistle around on their way to other parts. He ducks through the doorway and into the darkened interior.
Tis a shop of the Arts. Many more than thou hast heard of, and obscure now in the dust of time is their original purpose and intent. Here in this darkened shop there lie the results of thousands of years of magickal experiments.
But the soldier knows what he has come for, and the shop's mistress too. For she has heard the order of the Priestess through and through, and waiting she is with the prize held in her hand.
Wrapped in silken cloth and tied with a golden band. Rich and blue, the cloth is a beauty in itself, shimmering with its own deep lustre.
Upon the soldier's command she averts her eyes and opens the cloth by pulling the drawstring on the band. Forewarned the soldier also shields his eyes. Light bursts from the stone in the hand of the woman illuminating every darkest corner and crack of the shop. And from the light a strange unearthly music passes.
It is singing a song of the brightest moments of a people lost to time. Their faint remnants deposited here in most ancient of days. Their source a planet of a double sun. Come through the universe they have in escape. This stone bears their song.
Their dying world rejects them like mother casting off grown up children to fend for themselves, as utlimately all children must.
"Enough," The soldier says.
Still without looking the woman covers the sun and hands it in its blue cloth to the soldier. He hands her the gold, and the other rare stones cut with the utmost precision and beauty to the price she has agreed upon ere you came to visit.
He secrets the pouch in his tunic and make his way back through the noonday heat and the dust. Soon he is at the tower. The soldiers on the lower wall see him arrive and the small door is opened for him to enter. Soon he is in the inner temple and kneeling before his mistress.
He hands her the silk wrapped treasure.
Her green eyes regrard him. She smiles.
"My thanks," She says softly.
And as she signals she will be now alone, the guard retires to his room, within calling distance of hers.
True the life of a guard is not the life of an ordinary footslogger with this priestess.
He reflects on the events that have brought him here into her service.Indeed his life, viewed as a whole, has always led him to this one moment in time. He marvels at the beauty of the intricate yet delicate woven strands of events which
come together in this place.
3. The Old Priestess Speaks Through Time to the Guard
Fair to give the suns that shine their rosy light on all
Fair to save the golden one who stands above us all
Fair to hear the music weave its strands of light around
Fair the time that comes when all and one are found
Within the seventh century beyond the time we knew, there lay a jewel of brilliance
whose gleaming radiance threw coloured light and shadows to every corner of the realm. A beaming crystal pulsing power, to shine forever without blame.
And I was placed beyond the power of ordinary men, encased within the place where I would wield my power and see no less than all of all that happened even far
beyond the veil of time into other planes.
Full was I of power and most temperate. Never raining fire and pain, even when the darkest moods did pierce and prick my soul. I was always light anf fair none could lodge complaint againt me there.
I was in the thirteenth year of my sweet reign when from some distant cave within my heart, I felt the first great shredding pain, as if my very soul were wrenched an instant
From the shell of human flesh it rode.
There were other times as well. Other pains other hells. But I withstood, and ne'er a soul did know. My closest friends, my guards even had no inkling of what was to grow and grow.
Until one day, a summers eve, when the seas sparkled in twilight as I viewed them from my room, and shadows seemed to whisper through the promise of the darkening gloom. I must have staggered, called out, fallen, for one moment I was upright and the next on the floor with guards all around weapons of war at the ready.
They helped me to bed and brought me potions to steady.
Crystal healing had I done aplenty on others in need and in pain. But for myself the well was empty. The power of the stones worked all in vain.
Feeble was I yet still sustained by my power, but strength dwindled day by day, hour by hour. I knew my time had come to join my sisters, long gone keepers of the power, still keeping watch o'er time's great vistas.
So began I my search for another to continue the line blessed by the Mother to serve, yet not for glory. To live the healer's story. To be steadfast and firm take action, avert harm. To be fair and just, to be restrained, yet use power when she must.
My senses cast out beyond my tower's walls. I searched for many days and weeks.
I used my power to call the minds of those who might hear, yet in hearing not feel fear. And as time slowly drew me on to my demise, I found myself one dream trip
gazing into green eyes. A common girl, yet one who would the towers surprise.
This one you know through time. Passed I to her, the next in line, the power of all,
to be throughout time. And all that she commanded rests still within. The cystal long since shattered, was but the tool of power. The source of this great force, the magick, is a person.
Brave soldier rest for the deed is done. One will call and one will come. Go for all.
Let time hold thee not. Call for the promise and worry thee not.
Rest for awhile, yet travel you will. Go to the place where the mountains rest still.
Find thee peace in the falling rain, find thee release from the pain. Thy mind is still open, so close it not. Let the day call and move towards peace.
-End of message-
Are we to say that the writing has been done? That where once the river flowed, now the cracked earth withers in the heat? Dust on your feet, oh where will ye find water to wash it off, so that ye may enter clean the temple's courtyard and there within address the Priestess as she stands in robes of white?
Golden chains and rings adorn her. Her robes are of purest white. Hair of jet black straight cascades. She raises arms and all are silent. Looking straight at me with emerald eyes she enters deep within my precinct. Truth she will have and ne'er be deceived. This angel of the Mother, daughter of the Earth's seed.
In an instant knows she why I have come. A clap of the hands and all around disperse
"Come," she says, we will retire to the inner chamber. There ye may quench your thirst
And so we move, our shadows black on the white stone flags as the sun beats down, unmerciful. Into the inner court of the Temple we precede. The second ring we pass, and enter then the holiest of doors into the third. Alone, the priestess loses none of her power. The soldiers outside protect her from all but sorcery and the whims of her peers I think. She knows I pose no threat.
Pouring water into a cup, from a fresh tinkling fountain that graces the center of her room, the priestess hands me the cup
"Drink!" She says, and it feels like a command
"Speak!" It is a command
Refreshed by the water I tell her the reason why i have come
"Far away in the western corner of this empire," I tell her
"disaster has struck us. Where once green glades ran with the laughter of our children and the abundant water of spring, now there is nothing except dry cracked earth. The trees are withered, our animals starved. Babies are dying. The summer is hotter than it has ever been. Men once strong and able to till their fields now stumble and stagger with their ploughs trying to plant and nurture just a few seeds to grow a bare and meagre ration for their families.
Us, My Priestess. Once we were called the Land of Abundance. Now we are the land of the damned."
"I was the fittest of all of the men who volunteered to come here. We knew that only the fittest could survive the long journey. I and the second fittest set out at the end of the hot sumnmer season. Travelling before that would have killed us both. As it was it killed my companion."
The priestess commands me to shed my garment. I see her gasp as she notes my protruding ribs and thin legs.
"Now priestess. We must have help." My voice quavers.
"Good Sarn," she knows my name although I haven't told her.
"I see your pain, and through holding your robe, I see clearly the pain from which you have come. The days of your sorrow are numbered." she says.
It is good enough for me. I sense something withdraw from me. It was the priestess. She has been supporting me with her energy. Suddenly I feel weak and then I slowly collapse to the floor.
I had been a student of the Arts before the pestilence had come to our green and fair land.Then after a short time of famine, all schools closed, and students, as well as all able bodied children were sent to work on the land to work with all of the community, to save us. I understand much of the Priestess' work on a theoretical basis. I know the awesome power of the crystal towers which support all of Atlantis.
"Thank you Priestess," I send with my mind. I see her eyes widen slightly, and then I lose consciousness.
2. The Guard and the Sun Jewel
A tale of Atlantis the beautiful I will tell ye. The soldier bold does go from the temple running an errand for his Lady, the Priestess of the Western Tower. Confident and bold moves he through the crowded markets of fair Atlantis, sniffing the scents on the breeze.
Heading so clearly for the darkened shop in the corner of the courtyard where the breezes whistle around on their way to other parts. He ducks through the doorway and into the darkened interior.
Tis a shop of the Arts. Many more than thou hast heard of, and obscure now in the dust of time is their original purpose and intent. Here in this darkened shop there lie the results of thousands of years of magickal experiments.
But the soldier knows what he has come for, and the shop's mistress too. For she has heard the order of the Priestess through and through, and waiting she is with the prize held in her hand.
Wrapped in silken cloth and tied with a golden band. Rich and blue, the cloth is a beauty in itself, shimmering with its own deep lustre.
Upon the soldier's command she averts her eyes and opens the cloth by pulling the drawstring on the band. Forewarned the soldier also shields his eyes. Light bursts from the stone in the hand of the woman illuminating every darkest corner and crack of the shop. And from the light a strange unearthly music passes.
It is singing a song of the brightest moments of a people lost to time. Their faint remnants deposited here in most ancient of days. Their source a planet of a double sun. Come through the universe they have in escape. This stone bears their song.
Their dying world rejects them like mother casting off grown up children to fend for themselves, as utlimately all children must.
"Enough," The soldier says.
Still without looking the woman covers the sun and hands it in its blue cloth to the soldier. He hands her the gold, and the other rare stones cut with the utmost precision and beauty to the price she has agreed upon ere you came to visit.
He secrets the pouch in his tunic and make his way back through the noonday heat and the dust. Soon he is at the tower. The soldiers on the lower wall see him arrive and the small door is opened for him to enter. Soon he is in the inner temple and kneeling before his mistress.
He hands her the silk wrapped treasure.
Her green eyes regrard him. She smiles.
"My thanks," She says softly.
And as she signals she will be now alone, the guard retires to his room, within calling distance of hers.
True the life of a guard is not the life of an ordinary footslogger with this priestess.
He reflects on the events that have brought him here into her service.Indeed his life, viewed as a whole, has always led him to this one moment in time. He marvels at the beauty of the intricate yet delicate woven strands of events which
come together in this place.
3. The Old Priestess Speaks Through Time to the Guard
Fair to give the suns that shine their rosy light on all
Fair to save the golden one who stands above us all
Fair to hear the music weave its strands of light around
Fair the time that comes when all and one are found
Within the seventh century beyond the time we knew, there lay a jewel of brilliance
whose gleaming radiance threw coloured light and shadows to every corner of the realm. A beaming crystal pulsing power, to shine forever without blame.
And I was placed beyond the power of ordinary men, encased within the place where I would wield my power and see no less than all of all that happened even far
beyond the veil of time into other planes.
Full was I of power and most temperate. Never raining fire and pain, even when the darkest moods did pierce and prick my soul. I was always light anf fair none could lodge complaint againt me there.
I was in the thirteenth year of my sweet reign when from some distant cave within my heart, I felt the first great shredding pain, as if my very soul were wrenched an instant
From the shell of human flesh it rode.
There were other times as well. Other pains other hells. But I withstood, and ne'er a soul did know. My closest friends, my guards even had no inkling of what was to grow and grow.
Until one day, a summers eve, when the seas sparkled in twilight as I viewed them from my room, and shadows seemed to whisper through the promise of the darkening gloom. I must have staggered, called out, fallen, for one moment I was upright and the next on the floor with guards all around weapons of war at the ready.
They helped me to bed and brought me potions to steady.
Crystal healing had I done aplenty on others in need and in pain. But for myself the well was empty. The power of the stones worked all in vain.
Feeble was I yet still sustained by my power, but strength dwindled day by day, hour by hour. I knew my time had come to join my sisters, long gone keepers of the power, still keeping watch o'er time's great vistas.
So began I my search for another to continue the line blessed by the Mother to serve, yet not for glory. To live the healer's story. To be steadfast and firm take action, avert harm. To be fair and just, to be restrained, yet use power when she must.
My senses cast out beyond my tower's walls. I searched for many days and weeks.
I used my power to call the minds of those who might hear, yet in hearing not feel fear. And as time slowly drew me on to my demise, I found myself one dream trip
gazing into green eyes. A common girl, yet one who would the towers surprise.
This one you know through time. Passed I to her, the next in line, the power of all,
to be throughout time. And all that she commanded rests still within. The cystal long since shattered, was but the tool of power. The source of this great force, the magick, is a person.
Brave soldier rest for the deed is done. One will call and one will come. Go for all.
Let time hold thee not. Call for the promise and worry thee not.
Rest for awhile, yet travel you will. Go to the place where the mountains rest still.
Find thee peace in the falling rain, find thee release from the pain. Thy mind is still open, so close it not. Let the day call and move towards peace.
-End of message-