AlphariusOmegon
Not too sore, are you?
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He could also go the Old One route and make a magitech society
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The Accidental Liberator (ASOIAF,GOT SI)
- Thread starter Illusiveone
- Start date
OblivionFan007
Experienced.
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That was great.
Changes
Illusiveone
POWER! UNLIMITED POWER!
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Asshai
Quaithe's steps echoed through the empty streets of Asshai. She was no stranger to the city's eerie silence, but in the wake of recent events, the silence offered a comforting assurance of safety.
Quaithe was a shadowbinder. Asshai was home to many like her, as the city had always been a sanctuary for those who delved into the dark arts. Ancient beyond measure, some believed Asshai was there at the dawn of creation, while others whispered it was the capital of a long-forgotten empire.
The dark arts were a perilous path, one that Quaithe had walked with utmost caution. Yet, nothing could have prepared her, or the city's inhabitants, for the horrors unleashed in recent months.
Shadows, once subdued servants of Asshai's shadowbinders, had escaped their master's control to roam freely. The initial onslaught claimed many lives; novice shadowbinders were no match for the unleashed demons.
She, alongside others, managed to fend them off, yet many shadows still roamed, killing indiscriminately. The city had fallen; It was something she never imagined she would witness in her lifetime.
She knew of a ship that was supposed to arrive here in a few months. She and five others had planned to get out of the city on that ship, but now she was the sole survivor. Two had fallen to the shadows, while the remaining three had been swayed by a newly formed cult to journey to the city of Stygai.
She had heard rumors of happenings in the city of Stygai; they were very disturbing, to say the least. Many had left upstream along the Ash to join their ranks.
Her musings were abruptly cut short by a piercing shriek, causing her to stumble against a wall nearby.
"A shadow is nearby," she thought looking at the oily black stone most of the city was built with.
They were getting stronger, but thankfully, they were not able to leave the city. To her shame, she did not know the reason. The last few months had been a humbling experience for her, as she learned the true extent of the power of the shadows and the dark arts she had dedicated her life to mastering.
She navigated through the labyrinthine alleyways, taking a detour to the docks. She stopped suddenly as she felt a shadow stalking her. It was not long before it made its move, a formless entity lunging towards her with a chilling screech.
Quaithe quickly conjured a protective aura around herself, a skill only mastered by the most adept shadowbinders. The shadow recoiled as if burned and retreated. Steadying her breath, she pressed on.
She emerged from the maze of alleyways; the docks came into view. The ship that awaited her was a modest vessel. The crew, visibly terrified and confused, were prepared to depart.
She approached the ship and, without a backward glance at the city, she boarded it.
"We must leave quickly," she told the captain.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"We have to leave now, lest the shadows consume us all," she replied sharply.
The captain quickly nodded, understanding the urgency in her tone. He barked orders to his crew, who scrambled to prepare the ship for immediate departure.
Standing on the deck, Quaithe watched Asshai shrink into the distance. The city's ominous silhouette, with its towering black spires, seemed to dissolve into the darkness it was born from.
She wanted to find the source of all this chaos; she wanted to find who or what caused this small resurgence of magic, and she knew exactly where to start.
The five forts
The five forts were colossal structures of ancient and mysterious origin. It was manned by soldiers who guarded the lands of yi ti from the dangers from the Shrykes and beyond, into the ominous expanse known as the Grey Wastes.
Lately, the men in these forts have been on edge due to reports of sightings of beings that seemed neither alive nor dead; the undead, some claimed, had risen. Initially dismissed as the exaggerated tales of weary soldiers, these sightings soon became too frequent and too consistent to ignore.
When a large group of men were sent to investigate, only five returned alive, telling tales of necromancers and an army of the undead.
This forced the commanders of the five forts to hold an urgent meeting, a rarity that had not occurred in centuries, not since the War of the Six Emperors.
Five men sat at a round table: Commander Liang Wei of the First Fort, known for his strategic acumen; Zhang Jie, the stoic and resolute commander of the Second Fort; Commander Huo Guang, the youngest of the commanders but renowned for his bravery, of the Third Fort; Wang Feng, the wise and composed commander of the Fourth Fort; and finally, Commander Zhao Ming, the veteran leader of the Fifth Fort, known for his decades of service.
The meeting was tense, with each commander sharing their reports of the eerie sightings and the disturbing news trickling in from the scouts and patrols in the Grey Wastes. The descriptions of the undead-like beings were eerily similar across the accounts: lifeless eyes, decaying flesh, and a great violence when the living were nearby.
After much deliberation, it was decided that the gravity of the situation warranted immediate attention from the highest authority in the land—the imperial court of Yi Ti.
A delegation was selected from all forts for the mission to the imperial court. Among them were messengers, scholars, and a few seasoned warriors, each chosen for their unique skills. As they were leaving, Commander Zhao Ming addressed the group.
"What you bear is not just a message, but the safety of our empire in your hands. The sightings of these undead beings from the Grey Wastes could herald a threat unlike any our empire has faced. You must reach the imperial court with all haste and deliver our report to the Emperor's advisors."
The delegation saluted and set out on their mission, understanding the full weight of the responsibility they carried.
Volantis
Inside a small room in the Temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis, Melisandre sat in prayer, seeking guidance from the Lord of Light.
For months, the priests and priestesses of R'hllor had been receiving visions, but only a few had been able to make sense of them. Some claimed R'hllor was trying to warn them; others claimed he was guiding them towards something. There were even some heretics who claimed it wasn't R'hllor sending them visions, but the Great Other.
This had caused a great rift between the followers of R'hllor, many factions had been formed and the temple was always in some form of discord.
She had been praying to her lord for a clearer vision that would illuminate the path the Lord of Light wished her to follow.
She gazed into the flickering flames dancing wildly before her. Melisandre focused her gaze into the heart of the fire, letting the world around her fade away.
Then she saw it: the Lord of Light had answered her prayers. The vision was vivid, more so than any she had received in recent months.
A golden man with a spear appeared, his presence commanding and powerful. The vision changed, now showing the man freeing people from shackles. It changed again, showing the golden man taming a wild stallion with ease. The next vision shook Melisandre to her core; it was the golden man again, but this time he was fighting against the cold that sought to devour the world.
As the images faded, Melisandre sat back, her mind racing with questions.
Was the golden man a champion chosen by R'hllor to lead the fight against the darkness? Had R'hllor showed her Azor Ahai.
Or was her lord warning them of a rival, one that could challenge him?
Conflicted, Melisandre went to share the news with the high priest, hoping he could offer her some insight into the visions.
Beyond the Wall
Brynden was in the lands of Always Winter he had never been able to come here but ever since the surge in magic eight months ago he had been growing in power as well. It was his first attempt coming here, as his companions had warned him not to do it.
He walked upon the snow that never melted, under a sky devoid of warmth.The world around him was an endless white wasteland where life dared not whisper. Ice formations, towering like ancient, frozen sentinels, pierced the skyline, their surfaces shimmering under the light of the moon.
As Brynden ventured deeper into this frozen abyss, the air grew colder, a cold that seeped into his bones, a reminder of the unnatural force that held dominion here.
Then he saw him, sitting on a throne of ice: the Night King. His armor was like the night sky, adorned with frost that sparkled like stars. His skin was as pale as the moon, and his eyes, deep blue, were glaring at him.
The Night King raised a hand, and the wind howled louder. He began panicking as the Night King stood up from his throne and walked towards him. Suddenly, he was pulled from his vision, his heart racing in his chest. He was back in the cave, the ancient weirwood roots embracing him.
He saw Leaf looking at him with a grave expression.
"What did you see?" she asked.
"The Night King," Brynden replied. "He grows stronger. It's too soon."
Leaf nodded, a somber expression on her face. "Something has arrived in this world, something that has upset its balance."
"What?" Brynden asked.
"I do not know, but I think we shall find out soon," she said.
Brynden closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The battle for the dawn was near. He hoped that whatever had come to this world would be an ally to the living.
Jason reclined in the chair, the courtyard of his mansion offering a perfect vantage point to watch the sunset. He felt the cool air brush against him as he watched the sun disappear over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and gold.
The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts as he saw Cyra and Dara approaching. They were bringing him the food he had asked for. He had found that there was a dish similar to shawarma here, so he had asked them to prepare it, with some changes, of course.
"You've outdone yourselves. This is fantastic," he praised, drawing bright smiles from Cyra and Dara.
Jason returned his gaze to the sunset. Everything was going according to his plans.The city and the lands under him were at peace; his rule was solidifying, and the people served his every need.
"This is the life," Jason said, taking another bite and enjoying the beautiful sunset.
Quaithe's steps echoed through the empty streets of Asshai. She was no stranger to the city's eerie silence, but in the wake of recent events, the silence offered a comforting assurance of safety.
Quaithe was a shadowbinder. Asshai was home to many like her, as the city had always been a sanctuary for those who delved into the dark arts. Ancient beyond measure, some believed Asshai was there at the dawn of creation, while others whispered it was the capital of a long-forgotten empire.
The dark arts were a perilous path, one that Quaithe had walked with utmost caution. Yet, nothing could have prepared her, or the city's inhabitants, for the horrors unleashed in recent months.
Shadows, once subdued servants of Asshai's shadowbinders, had escaped their master's control to roam freely. The initial onslaught claimed many lives; novice shadowbinders were no match for the unleashed demons.
She, alongside others, managed to fend them off, yet many shadows still roamed, killing indiscriminately. The city had fallen; It was something she never imagined she would witness in her lifetime.
She knew of a ship that was supposed to arrive here in a few months. She and five others had planned to get out of the city on that ship, but now she was the sole survivor. Two had fallen to the shadows, while the remaining three had been swayed by a newly formed cult to journey to the city of Stygai.
She had heard rumors of happenings in the city of Stygai; they were very disturbing, to say the least. Many had left upstream along the Ash to join their ranks.
Her musings were abruptly cut short by a piercing shriek, causing her to stumble against a wall nearby.
"A shadow is nearby," she thought looking at the oily black stone most of the city was built with.
They were getting stronger, but thankfully, they were not able to leave the city. To her shame, she did not know the reason. The last few months had been a humbling experience for her, as she learned the true extent of the power of the shadows and the dark arts she had dedicated her life to mastering.
She navigated through the labyrinthine alleyways, taking a detour to the docks. She stopped suddenly as she felt a shadow stalking her. It was not long before it made its move, a formless entity lunging towards her with a chilling screech.
Quaithe quickly conjured a protective aura around herself, a skill only mastered by the most adept shadowbinders. The shadow recoiled as if burned and retreated. Steadying her breath, she pressed on.
She emerged from the maze of alleyways; the docks came into view. The ship that awaited her was a modest vessel. The crew, visibly terrified and confused, were prepared to depart.
She approached the ship and, without a backward glance at the city, she boarded it.
"We must leave quickly," she told the captain.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"We have to leave now, lest the shadows consume us all," she replied sharply.
The captain quickly nodded, understanding the urgency in her tone. He barked orders to his crew, who scrambled to prepare the ship for immediate departure.
Standing on the deck, Quaithe watched Asshai shrink into the distance. The city's ominous silhouette, with its towering black spires, seemed to dissolve into the darkness it was born from.
She wanted to find the source of all this chaos; she wanted to find who or what caused this small resurgence of magic, and she knew exactly where to start.
The five forts
The five forts were colossal structures of ancient and mysterious origin. It was manned by soldiers who guarded the lands of yi ti from the dangers from the Shrykes and beyond, into the ominous expanse known as the Grey Wastes.
Lately, the men in these forts have been on edge due to reports of sightings of beings that seemed neither alive nor dead; the undead, some claimed, had risen. Initially dismissed as the exaggerated tales of weary soldiers, these sightings soon became too frequent and too consistent to ignore.
When a large group of men were sent to investigate, only five returned alive, telling tales of necromancers and an army of the undead.
This forced the commanders of the five forts to hold an urgent meeting, a rarity that had not occurred in centuries, not since the War of the Six Emperors.
Five men sat at a round table: Commander Liang Wei of the First Fort, known for his strategic acumen; Zhang Jie, the stoic and resolute commander of the Second Fort; Commander Huo Guang, the youngest of the commanders but renowned for his bravery, of the Third Fort; Wang Feng, the wise and composed commander of the Fourth Fort; and finally, Commander Zhao Ming, the veteran leader of the Fifth Fort, known for his decades of service.
The meeting was tense, with each commander sharing their reports of the eerie sightings and the disturbing news trickling in from the scouts and patrols in the Grey Wastes. The descriptions of the undead-like beings were eerily similar across the accounts: lifeless eyes, decaying flesh, and a great violence when the living were nearby.
After much deliberation, it was decided that the gravity of the situation warranted immediate attention from the highest authority in the land—the imperial court of Yi Ti.
A delegation was selected from all forts for the mission to the imperial court. Among them were messengers, scholars, and a few seasoned warriors, each chosen for their unique skills. As they were leaving, Commander Zhao Ming addressed the group.
"What you bear is not just a message, but the safety of our empire in your hands. The sightings of these undead beings from the Grey Wastes could herald a threat unlike any our empire has faced. You must reach the imperial court with all haste and deliver our report to the Emperor's advisors."
The delegation saluted and set out on their mission, understanding the full weight of the responsibility they carried.
Volantis
Inside a small room in the Temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis, Melisandre sat in prayer, seeking guidance from the Lord of Light.
For months, the priests and priestesses of R'hllor had been receiving visions, but only a few had been able to make sense of them. Some claimed R'hllor was trying to warn them; others claimed he was guiding them towards something. There were even some heretics who claimed it wasn't R'hllor sending them visions, but the Great Other.
This had caused a great rift between the followers of R'hllor, many factions had been formed and the temple was always in some form of discord.
She had been praying to her lord for a clearer vision that would illuminate the path the Lord of Light wished her to follow.
She gazed into the flickering flames dancing wildly before her. Melisandre focused her gaze into the heart of the fire, letting the world around her fade away.
Then she saw it: the Lord of Light had answered her prayers. The vision was vivid, more so than any she had received in recent months.
A golden man with a spear appeared, his presence commanding and powerful. The vision changed, now showing the man freeing people from shackles. It changed again, showing the golden man taming a wild stallion with ease. The next vision shook Melisandre to her core; it was the golden man again, but this time he was fighting against the cold that sought to devour the world.
As the images faded, Melisandre sat back, her mind racing with questions.
Was the golden man a champion chosen by R'hllor to lead the fight against the darkness? Had R'hllor showed her Azor Ahai.
Or was her lord warning them of a rival, one that could challenge him?
Conflicted, Melisandre went to share the news with the high priest, hoping he could offer her some insight into the visions.
Beyond the Wall
Brynden was in the lands of Always Winter he had never been able to come here but ever since the surge in magic eight months ago he had been growing in power as well. It was his first attempt coming here, as his companions had warned him not to do it.
He walked upon the snow that never melted, under a sky devoid of warmth.The world around him was an endless white wasteland where life dared not whisper. Ice formations, towering like ancient, frozen sentinels, pierced the skyline, their surfaces shimmering under the light of the moon.
As Brynden ventured deeper into this frozen abyss, the air grew colder, a cold that seeped into his bones, a reminder of the unnatural force that held dominion here.
Then he saw him, sitting on a throne of ice: the Night King. His armor was like the night sky, adorned with frost that sparkled like stars. His skin was as pale as the moon, and his eyes, deep blue, were glaring at him.
The Night King raised a hand, and the wind howled louder. He began panicking as the Night King stood up from his throne and walked towards him. Suddenly, he was pulled from his vision, his heart racing in his chest. He was back in the cave, the ancient weirwood roots embracing him.
He saw Leaf looking at him with a grave expression.
"What did you see?" she asked.
"The Night King," Brynden replied. "He grows stronger. It's too soon."
Leaf nodded, a somber expression on her face. "Something has arrived in this world, something that has upset its balance."
"What?" Brynden asked.
"I do not know, but I think we shall find out soon," she said.
Brynden closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The battle for the dawn was near. He hoped that whatever had come to this world would be an ally to the living.
Jason reclined in the chair, the courtyard of his mansion offering a perfect vantage point to watch the sunset. He felt the cool air brush against him as he watched the sun disappear over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and gold.
The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts as he saw Cyra and Dara approaching. They were bringing him the food he had asked for. He had found that there was a dish similar to shawarma here, so he had asked them to prepare it, with some changes, of course.
"You've outdone yourselves. This is fantastic," he praised, drawing bright smiles from Cyra and Dara.
Jason returned his gaze to the sunset. Everything was going according to his plans.The city and the lands under him were at peace; his rule was solidifying, and the people served his every need.
"This is the life," Jason said, taking another bite and enjoying the beautiful sunset.
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tamagat
I Find Your Lack of Cake Disturbing.
- Joined
- Oct 1, 2017
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wouldn't be a grand adventure without existential threats that could challenge the mc, Im lovin it!
ATP
Well worn.
- Joined
- Jun 24, 2020
- Messages
- 5,090
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- 9,860
Indeed.Author just gave Frodo lightsaber,so Sauron must get Star destroyer.
Good for story.
Arimai
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2014
- Messages
- 791
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- 3,228
Hell no. I hate that analogy. That way lies madness and that asshole fanfic trashfic, borderline and sometimes outright pedofiction writer Perfect Lionheart and his kind.
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ATP
Well worn.
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- Jun 24, 2020
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- 5,090
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- 9,860
i am against pedos,but what is wrong with little bit madness ?
Arimai
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2014
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- 3,228
Madness is okay in small amounts. But this is a derail and I've already gotten a warning for derailing so on to the story.
RoyalTwinFangs
For The Chancellor!
- Joined
- Nov 27, 2017
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Here is an idea for the MC's kingdom. Base it off of the more Mideastern nations such as the Achaemenid Empire (which has one of the earliest written code of humane laws), the Sassanid Empire (which was famous for their horse archers) and the Byzantine empire (their Cataphracts).
Arimai
I trust you know where the happy button is?
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2014
- Messages
- 791
- Likes received
- 3,228
Here is an idea for the MC's kingdom. Base it off of the more Mideastern nations such as the Achaemenid Empire (which has one of the earliest written code of humane laws), the Sassanid Empire (which was famous for their horse archers) and the Byzantine empire (their Cataphracts).
He doesn't have the industry. I'd continue developing what they currently have into the proper equivalent of Swiss pike tactics supported by the longbows the Giants and Wildlings use. He doesn't have many mounts other than reindeer if the wildlings even know how to herd them like the Sami and Inuit
A Blacksmith's Tale
Illusiveone
POWER! UNLIMITED POWER!
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Zahir was a humble blacksmith from a fairly large village near the city of Hesh. He and his family—his father and younger brother—came from a long line of blacksmiths.
His mother had died when he was young, and it was his father who raised them. He had known how to work a forge since he was a child. He enjoyed working the forge; the Great Shepherd guided their hands, and they were the most sought-after blacksmiths in the region.
Zahir was an ardent follower of the Great Shepherd and led a life of pacifism, a trait he inherited from his father. His brother was not as faithful as he and his father were, but still would regularly pray with them.
He knew life in Lhazar was perilous. They were peaceful people, and that pacifism had been exploited by the Dothraki. Though he had not witnessed a raid in his lifetime, he was always suspicious that his mother had died or was captured in one.
It was a day like any other that Zahir and his brother Darab set off for Hesh. They were traveling there to buy supplies. His father would travel there every six months or so for buying valuable ores and other tools; this time, he had entrusted them to do it alone.
They bade farewell to their father and set off. In Hesh, they learned of the coming Dothraki threat. They heard rumors of villages along the river being raided. Zahir decided to return home immediately. To their horror, they saw their village in flames; it had been raided by the Dothraki. They rushed to their home to find their father.
Darab had found him lying lifeless in the street. Zahir stood there, staring at his brother clutching their father's body. He did not know what to do; his life was turned upside down.
Life went on after that, just as it did in Lhazar. Raids were a part of life, his father had told him; they had to move on.
Grief filled him during these dark times. Zahir found solace in the teachings of the Great Shepherd. He took advice from Godswives.
Forgiveness, they preached, was the path through which peace could be reclaimed. It was a bitter pill, yet Zahir forced himself to swallow it, his faith the only light in the engulfing darkness.
His brother's reaction, however, was a stark contrast to his own. Anger consumed him; his already waning faith in the Great Shepherd shattered. He relentlessly began to question their beliefs.
"How could the Great Shepherd allow this? Where was his protection when our father needed it the most?" he raged.
"Darab," he scolded.
"No, brother. The Shepherd is a weak god; he is not worthy of our worship if he cannot protect his flock," Darab retorted bitterly.
The rift between them grew over the years. Zahir became more devoted to the great shepard and this enraged Darab. Zahit tried to get his brother to understand the teaching of their god but they fell on deaf ears. His brother's heart had hardened; there was only hate vengeance there now.
The village was left a husk of its former self after the raid; survivors like Zahir had to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and start over again. Just like many others in Lhazar, over time, they rebuilt and survived.
Three years later, the village had almost returned to its former self; peace had once again returned. His brother was speaking to him but was still adamant about his opinion on their god. However, Zahir still tried, but that always led to heated arguments.
Zahir was preparing to leave for the city of Hesh to buy more supplies; there had been rumors of Dothraki again that had put the villagers on edge.
"Brother, perhaps it's wiser to delay your journey to Hesh," Darab suggested.
"I have delayed long enough, brother," Zahir responded.
"The Great Shepherd will watch over me," he added.
"Yes, like he watched over our father," Darab retorted, his voice tinged with bitterness.
Zahir stayed silent, knowing responding would only lead to an argument.
"At least take this with you," Darab said, offering something covered in cloth. He unfurled it to reveal a sword.
"Where did you get that from?" Zahir asked, his anger rising.
"I forged it myself," Darab declared, pride evident in his stance.
"So that's why there was a shortage in the supply of iron," Zahir observed dryly.
"Please brother, take it with you. For protection." Darab pleaded.
Zahir's anger flared at the sight of the sword, a symbol of violence.
"This goes against everything we believe in, Darab. How could you?" he asked, disappointment lacing his voice.
"No, brother, only your beliefs," Darab fired back.
"We will talk about this when I return," Zahir said, leaving the house.
Zahir arrived in Hesh without any trouble. After securing his cart and horse, he went to the markets to get the supplies. It was in the market that he heard startling news.
"You headed to Kosrak?" the shopkeeper asked the merchant who was buying a lot of products.
"Yes," the merchant replied.
"Are you mad? I heard Jhoggo is planning to attack the city," the shopkeeper claimed.
"Ha, it seems you are behind on the news, my friend," the merchant said with a smile.
"Has Jhoggo sacked the city?" Zahir asked, interrupting their conversation.
"I heard that he did," the merchant replied. Zahir felt great sadness for the people of Kosrak, but then the merchant continued.
"But it seems fate had other plans. Jhoggo's Khalasar has been defeated," the merchant added.
"How? By what army?" the shopkeeper asked in disbelief.
"Not by an army," the merchant said, leaning in as if sharing a secret.
"But by one man."
Zahir's heart skipped a beat. "One man?" he repeated.
"Yes, they say he is a powerful sorcerer. Some even claim he is a god."
"The road to Kosrak is still dangerous, but I am willing to take the risk," the merchant said, leaving with a cart full of goods.
The shopkeeper shook his head in disbelief. Zahir's expression mirrored his.
Buying more than he usually did, Zahir left the city and it took him a while to travel back to the village as his cart kept breaking down.
What awaited him there was a scene he still had nightmares about. His heart dropped when he saw smoke over the horizon.
"No, nooo!" Zahir yelled, leaving his cart and running towards the village.
He ran to his house, not caring for anything else; images of his father's lifeless body filled his mind.
"Darab... DARAB..." he shouted. Zahir's voice cracked with desperation as he burst into his home. It was then he realized that his house was not damaged. He walked outside; only a few houses nearby had small signs of damage.
'Was this not because of a raid?' he thought.
"ZAHIR!" he heard his brother's voice. Darab was running towards him.
"You won't believe what happened," Darab exclaimed.
Zahir's heart, still racing from fear, began to slow as he took in his brother's unharmed appearance. "What happened, Darab? I thought... I feared the worst."
Darab grabbed his shoulders, his eyes wide with wonder. "It was incredible, Zahir. The village was attacked, yes, but we were saved."
"Come with me. I will take you to see her," Darab said, leading his brother away.
"Who saved the village, and who is 'her'?" Zahir asked.
"You'll see. It was a miracle, Zahir. I didn't see it, as I was hiding in the house, but many saw him defeating the Dothraki," Darab said.
Zahir, still trying to process, allowed himself to be pulled along. He could see that the village was barely harmed and only one house had been burned to the ground.
They stopped in front of a woman who stood confidently, her presence demanding attention. Flanking her were two individuals, their stances alert and watchful. Zahir's gaze lingered on them, noting their unusual demeanor.
"Brother, this is Mariam. She's a priestess of the god who saved us," Darab introduced with reverence.
Zahir looked at Mariam, skepticism etched across his face. "A god? Saved you? How?"
Mariam stepped forward. "Greetings, Zahir. Your brother has told us all about you. Your help will be needed for the village's recovery.
"Your village was on the brink of destruction, but our god, the Liberator, intervened. By his divine will,your village was saved; he left us here for further protection."
Zahir's eyes went to the two men flanking her.
"They are his champions, blessed with his strength," Mariam explained.
"It's true, brother. They have the strength of a hundred men," Darab chimed in.
Zahir turned back to Mariam. "And now? What happens now?"
"We will wait for further men to arrive. The Liberator has decreed all villages to have a small defense force,"
"This is just the beginning, soon all of Lhazar will be under the eternal protection of our God" she declared.
Everything changed after that day. His brother and others became ardent followers of this new god.His brother and many of his friends had urged him to join them to hear Mariam preach, but he had refused. He believed no one would turn their back on the Great Shepherd—how wrong he was. In a few months, he had become part of a small contingent of people who still followed the old ways. Yes, they called it "the old ways" now.
He walked through the village, observing the changes over the past few months. He passed by the small temple dedicated to the Great Shepherd at the edge of the village and noticed a small group still gathered there— a few loyal followers of the Great Shepherd who had not abandoned their faith.
More armored men arrived in the following months, fulfilling the promise of protection for the new god.As he arrived at the center of the village he saw Mariam preaching to some newcomers from a neighboring village.
"Our god, the Liberator, has shown His might. He has delivered us from the Dothraki when the Shepherd did nothing. Embrace His strength, and you shall know peace," Mariam proclaimed.
"Those who cling to the past, to a god who has forsaken them, will find themselves left behind. Our god offers protection and strength. The Shepherd offers only silence."
Zahir could not contain himself anymore; he stepped forward. "The Great Shepherd teaches us peace, forgiveness, and love. Your god teaches only violence," he declared.
A murmur ran through the crowd, some nodding in agreement with Zahir, while others looked to Mariam for reassurance.
Mariam smiled, a cold, calculated expression. "Violence? No, Zahir. It is not violence we spread, but hope. Hope for a future free from the terror of the Dothraki. Our god has proven Himself. What has the Shepherd done for you? Your father is dead, and your brother would have joined him if the Great One had not intervened."
His anger only increased when she mentioned his father and brother.
Zahir looked around at the faces in the crowd,some glared at him, some looked afraid . They had decided to embrace this new god of violence.He realized there was no use in arguing further he was alone.
His brother now seemed a stranger to him, drawn into the fold of the new religion. He attended Mariam's sermons daily. Their conversations became fewer and strained. Conversations at home now served as battlegrounds where words clashed more fiercely than swords. His brother echoed the woman's teachings with a zeal that brooked no dissent.
"Our god has shown His power, His willingness to protect us. What has the Great Shepherd done?"
"The Great Shepherd teaches us compassion, Darab. To forgive, to love, to find peace. Does this new god of yours teach the same?"
"Peace? Love? Where was that peace when the Dothraki attacked? No, brother, this god, our god, He fights for us. He protects us. That is the truth you refuse to see," Darab replied, his voice rising with each word.
"Darab, please, remember father, everything he taught us. He believed in the Great Shepherd, in His guidance."
"Times have changed, Zahir. Our father... he didn't live to see the Liberator's might. We have. I have. And I choose to stand with Him."
The village, too, mirrored this familial divide. Those who embraced the teachings of the new god looked upon Zahir and the few remaining followers of the Great Shepherd with suspicion and veiled hostility. The new faith demanded conformity, and those who resisted found themselves isolated.
The final blow came not from the village at large but from within the walls of his own home. His brother turned against him, coming to him one day to seize the family forge.
Zahir stood in the forge, the heat from the flames unable to protect him from the coldness in his brother's eyes. "You can't do this, Darab. This forge has been in our family for generations," he pleaded.
"It now serves a higher purpose, Zahir. Our new protectors need weapons, and you refuse to forge them. You leave me no choice."
"But to turn against your own brother?" Zahir's voice broke with emotion.
"We are on the path to greatness, under the protection of our new god. You chose to stand against that. You chose this," Darab countered, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held.
Zahir was dragged away from the forge by the men his brother had brought with him. With nowhere to go, he gathered what little he could carry and left the home he had known all his life.
He joined up with others like him, those who had been cast aside for their faith, in the outskirts of the city.
"It seems Hesh is our only hope now," one of them said.
"This might be happening there as well," another added.
And so, they set out, a small caravan of the faithful, seeking refuge in a city that might no longer welcome them. Zahir looked back one last time, the village shrinking in the distance, and wondered if the Great Shepherd was watching over them, guiding them to safety, or if they were now truly alone, adrift in a changing world.
His mother had died when he was young, and it was his father who raised them. He had known how to work a forge since he was a child. He enjoyed working the forge; the Great Shepherd guided their hands, and they were the most sought-after blacksmiths in the region.
Zahir was an ardent follower of the Great Shepherd and led a life of pacifism, a trait he inherited from his father. His brother was not as faithful as he and his father were, but still would regularly pray with them.
He knew life in Lhazar was perilous. They were peaceful people, and that pacifism had been exploited by the Dothraki. Though he had not witnessed a raid in his lifetime, he was always suspicious that his mother had died or was captured in one.
It was a day like any other that Zahir and his brother Darab set off for Hesh. They were traveling there to buy supplies. His father would travel there every six months or so for buying valuable ores and other tools; this time, he had entrusted them to do it alone.
They bade farewell to their father and set off. In Hesh, they learned of the coming Dothraki threat. They heard rumors of villages along the river being raided. Zahir decided to return home immediately. To their horror, they saw their village in flames; it had been raided by the Dothraki. They rushed to their home to find their father.
Darab had found him lying lifeless in the street. Zahir stood there, staring at his brother clutching their father's body. He did not know what to do; his life was turned upside down.
Life went on after that, just as it did in Lhazar. Raids were a part of life, his father had told him; they had to move on.
Grief filled him during these dark times. Zahir found solace in the teachings of the Great Shepherd. He took advice from Godswives.
Forgiveness, they preached, was the path through which peace could be reclaimed. It was a bitter pill, yet Zahir forced himself to swallow it, his faith the only light in the engulfing darkness.
His brother's reaction, however, was a stark contrast to his own. Anger consumed him; his already waning faith in the Great Shepherd shattered. He relentlessly began to question their beliefs.
"How could the Great Shepherd allow this? Where was his protection when our father needed it the most?" he raged.
"Darab," he scolded.
"No, brother. The Shepherd is a weak god; he is not worthy of our worship if he cannot protect his flock," Darab retorted bitterly.
The rift between them grew over the years. Zahir became more devoted to the great shepard and this enraged Darab. Zahit tried to get his brother to understand the teaching of their god but they fell on deaf ears. His brother's heart had hardened; there was only hate vengeance there now.
The village was left a husk of its former self after the raid; survivors like Zahir had to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and start over again. Just like many others in Lhazar, over time, they rebuilt and survived.
Three years later, the village had almost returned to its former self; peace had once again returned. His brother was speaking to him but was still adamant about his opinion on their god. However, Zahir still tried, but that always led to heated arguments.
Zahir was preparing to leave for the city of Hesh to buy more supplies; there had been rumors of Dothraki again that had put the villagers on edge.
"Brother, perhaps it's wiser to delay your journey to Hesh," Darab suggested.
"I have delayed long enough, brother," Zahir responded.
"The Great Shepherd will watch over me," he added.
"Yes, like he watched over our father," Darab retorted, his voice tinged with bitterness.
Zahir stayed silent, knowing responding would only lead to an argument.
"At least take this with you," Darab said, offering something covered in cloth. He unfurled it to reveal a sword.
"Where did you get that from?" Zahir asked, his anger rising.
"I forged it myself," Darab declared, pride evident in his stance.
"So that's why there was a shortage in the supply of iron," Zahir observed dryly.
"Please brother, take it with you. For protection." Darab pleaded.
Zahir's anger flared at the sight of the sword, a symbol of violence.
"This goes against everything we believe in, Darab. How could you?" he asked, disappointment lacing his voice.
"No, brother, only your beliefs," Darab fired back.
"We will talk about this when I return," Zahir said, leaving the house.
Zahir arrived in Hesh without any trouble. After securing his cart and horse, he went to the markets to get the supplies. It was in the market that he heard startling news.
"You headed to Kosrak?" the shopkeeper asked the merchant who was buying a lot of products.
"Yes," the merchant replied.
"Are you mad? I heard Jhoggo is planning to attack the city," the shopkeeper claimed.
"Ha, it seems you are behind on the news, my friend," the merchant said with a smile.
"Has Jhoggo sacked the city?" Zahir asked, interrupting their conversation.
"I heard that he did," the merchant replied. Zahir felt great sadness for the people of Kosrak, but then the merchant continued.
"But it seems fate had other plans. Jhoggo's Khalasar has been defeated," the merchant added.
"How? By what army?" the shopkeeper asked in disbelief.
"Not by an army," the merchant said, leaning in as if sharing a secret.
"But by one man."
Zahir's heart skipped a beat. "One man?" he repeated.
"Yes, they say he is a powerful sorcerer. Some even claim he is a god."
"The road to Kosrak is still dangerous, but I am willing to take the risk," the merchant said, leaving with a cart full of goods.
The shopkeeper shook his head in disbelief. Zahir's expression mirrored his.
Buying more than he usually did, Zahir left the city and it took him a while to travel back to the village as his cart kept breaking down.
What awaited him there was a scene he still had nightmares about. His heart dropped when he saw smoke over the horizon.
"No, nooo!" Zahir yelled, leaving his cart and running towards the village.
He ran to his house, not caring for anything else; images of his father's lifeless body filled his mind.
"Darab... DARAB..." he shouted. Zahir's voice cracked with desperation as he burst into his home. It was then he realized that his house was not damaged. He walked outside; only a few houses nearby had small signs of damage.
'Was this not because of a raid?' he thought.
"ZAHIR!" he heard his brother's voice. Darab was running towards him.
"You won't believe what happened," Darab exclaimed.
Zahir's heart, still racing from fear, began to slow as he took in his brother's unharmed appearance. "What happened, Darab? I thought... I feared the worst."
Darab grabbed his shoulders, his eyes wide with wonder. "It was incredible, Zahir. The village was attacked, yes, but we were saved."
"Come with me. I will take you to see her," Darab said, leading his brother away.
"Who saved the village, and who is 'her'?" Zahir asked.
"You'll see. It was a miracle, Zahir. I didn't see it, as I was hiding in the house, but many saw him defeating the Dothraki," Darab said.
Zahir, still trying to process, allowed himself to be pulled along. He could see that the village was barely harmed and only one house had been burned to the ground.
They stopped in front of a woman who stood confidently, her presence demanding attention. Flanking her were two individuals, their stances alert and watchful. Zahir's gaze lingered on them, noting their unusual demeanor.
"Brother, this is Mariam. She's a priestess of the god who saved us," Darab introduced with reverence.
Zahir looked at Mariam, skepticism etched across his face. "A god? Saved you? How?"
Mariam stepped forward. "Greetings, Zahir. Your brother has told us all about you. Your help will be needed for the village's recovery.
"Your village was on the brink of destruction, but our god, the Liberator, intervened. By his divine will,your village was saved; he left us here for further protection."
Zahir's eyes went to the two men flanking her.
"They are his champions, blessed with his strength," Mariam explained.
"It's true, brother. They have the strength of a hundred men," Darab chimed in.
Zahir turned back to Mariam. "And now? What happens now?"
"We will wait for further men to arrive. The Liberator has decreed all villages to have a small defense force,"
"This is just the beginning, soon all of Lhazar will be under the eternal protection of our God" she declared.
Everything changed after that day. His brother and others became ardent followers of this new god.His brother and many of his friends had urged him to join them to hear Mariam preach, but he had refused. He believed no one would turn their back on the Great Shepherd—how wrong he was. In a few months, he had become part of a small contingent of people who still followed the old ways. Yes, they called it "the old ways" now.
He walked through the village, observing the changes over the past few months. He passed by the small temple dedicated to the Great Shepherd at the edge of the village and noticed a small group still gathered there— a few loyal followers of the Great Shepherd who had not abandoned their faith.
More armored men arrived in the following months, fulfilling the promise of protection for the new god.As he arrived at the center of the village he saw Mariam preaching to some newcomers from a neighboring village.
"Our god, the Liberator, has shown His might. He has delivered us from the Dothraki when the Shepherd did nothing. Embrace His strength, and you shall know peace," Mariam proclaimed.
"Those who cling to the past, to a god who has forsaken them, will find themselves left behind. Our god offers protection and strength. The Shepherd offers only silence."
Zahir could not contain himself anymore; he stepped forward. "The Great Shepherd teaches us peace, forgiveness, and love. Your god teaches only violence," he declared.
A murmur ran through the crowd, some nodding in agreement with Zahir, while others looked to Mariam for reassurance.
Mariam smiled, a cold, calculated expression. "Violence? No, Zahir. It is not violence we spread, but hope. Hope for a future free from the terror of the Dothraki. Our god has proven Himself. What has the Shepherd done for you? Your father is dead, and your brother would have joined him if the Great One had not intervened."
His anger only increased when she mentioned his father and brother.
Zahir looked around at the faces in the crowd,some glared at him, some looked afraid . They had decided to embrace this new god of violence.He realized there was no use in arguing further he was alone.
His brother now seemed a stranger to him, drawn into the fold of the new religion. He attended Mariam's sermons daily. Their conversations became fewer and strained. Conversations at home now served as battlegrounds where words clashed more fiercely than swords. His brother echoed the woman's teachings with a zeal that brooked no dissent.
"Our god has shown His power, His willingness to protect us. What has the Great Shepherd done?"
"The Great Shepherd teaches us compassion, Darab. To forgive, to love, to find peace. Does this new god of yours teach the same?"
"Peace? Love? Where was that peace when the Dothraki attacked? No, brother, this god, our god, He fights for us. He protects us. That is the truth you refuse to see," Darab replied, his voice rising with each word.
"Darab, please, remember father, everything he taught us. He believed in the Great Shepherd, in His guidance."
"Times have changed, Zahir. Our father... he didn't live to see the Liberator's might. We have. I have. And I choose to stand with Him."
The village, too, mirrored this familial divide. Those who embraced the teachings of the new god looked upon Zahir and the few remaining followers of the Great Shepherd with suspicion and veiled hostility. The new faith demanded conformity, and those who resisted found themselves isolated.
The final blow came not from the village at large but from within the walls of his own home. His brother turned against him, coming to him one day to seize the family forge.
Zahir stood in the forge, the heat from the flames unable to protect him from the coldness in his brother's eyes. "You can't do this, Darab. This forge has been in our family for generations," he pleaded.
"It now serves a higher purpose, Zahir. Our new protectors need weapons, and you refuse to forge them. You leave me no choice."
"But to turn against your own brother?" Zahir's voice broke with emotion.
"We are on the path to greatness, under the protection of our new god. You chose to stand against that. You chose this," Darab countered, his voice devoid of the warmth it once held.
Zahir was dragged away from the forge by the men his brother had brought with him. With nowhere to go, he gathered what little he could carry and left the home he had known all his life.
He joined up with others like him, those who had been cast aside for their faith, in the outskirts of the city.
"It seems Hesh is our only hope now," one of them said.
"This might be happening there as well," another added.
And so, they set out, a small caravan of the faithful, seeking refuge in a city that might no longer welcome them. Zahir looked back one last time, the village shrinking in the distance, and wondered if the Great Shepherd was watching over them, guiding them to safety, or if they were now truly alone, adrift in a changing world.
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sickboy398
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Damn hope Murphy's Law takes a break and doesn't go for a vacation in a certain land
Cybork
Cybernettik Orkanizm
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This part is a bit awkward. He complains about teaching violence, but then she mentions fear out of nowhere. Shouldn't she be talking about violence too?
Illusiveone
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forgot to edit that part
Oddboy
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Our intrepid hero may yet come to regret not stomping on that while he still had the chance. But now he's stuck with it if he doesn't want to cause a potentially catastrophic crisis of faith that would see a lot of people dead and/or trying to kill him.
Not great a situation to be in, lol.
Illusiveone
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Its going to get crazier when it spreads to slavers bay.
Alucardan2
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People calling the priestesses zealots...
To it just reads as Heresy
Words from a Liberator Marine, a totally sane and rational man
To it just reads as Heresy
Words from a Liberator Marine, a totally sane and rational man
RoyalTwinFangs
For The Chancellor!
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Not yet but with him building a city he will have that industry in time. Doesn't have them now but later. He can conquer land but he need foot on ground to keep it.
Maleficarum
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Honestly I hope he instills some actual laws or edicts to better protect people from zealotry. Even just preaching Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness alongside stuff like the right to bear arms and the like for self defense against those who would infringe on the previous 3 is good
Arimai
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Not without active shipments of manpower and iron. The closest, safe source of iron and coal are in the mountains south of the Wall. The Thenn have lost their city states and their resources to the Walkers already. Jon has unskilled manpower and wood. That's it.
RoyalTwinFangs
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Are we talking about the same thing here? I thought the story was set in Essos.
Arimai
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Sorry. I'm on the wrong thread. I thought this was Shrouded Destiny
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ATP
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Indeed,now he must be god.Poor dude.
Oddboy
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No kidding. Having to herd a bunch of religious zealots while being forced to live up to the divine standards his followers will be expecting from him sounds absolutely exhausting to me.
Years down the line, I can easily see him having a private retreat built on a mountain top or something where he can disappear to occasionally just so he can have some damn peace and quiet away from everything.
And when he does his followers will probably go through some mental gymnastics and call it mediation or something that's way more grandiose and profound than it actually is.
Illusiveone
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The Great Liberator, the Father of Freedom, the Tamer of the Great Stallion.
Illusiveone
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I'm having a friend draw the main characters and some other stuff. I'll post them when it's done.
I'm not good at describing characters
ATP
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Or read manga - becouse ROB would deliver some for good work.Maybe writing mange himself?