Within the great halls of the temple cities of Lustria, it was written many times what the herald of the Armageddon would be. It was Lustria that was granted the knowledge of the herald of the end, and Lustria that was charged first with the Great Plan to resist. In the many, many years since, untold amounts of suffering had been brought forth for the plan. Untold amounts of suffering, and yes, even the infection of Chaos, manifested and growing like a tumour in the north and south, a cancer that could not be expunged by mortals.
The Great Plan. The only chance left. That was the prevailing belief, of salvation even among impossibility, for the plan was almost certainly not possible to complete. The opportunity was gone, and far too much had occurred outside of the whispering of the prophecies left by the Old Ones. It was for the purpose of divining the meaning of the Great Plan that the slann, great priests of the Old Ones in the shape of huge, bloated, toad-like creatures, meditated.
And of the slann, the greatest was considered to be Lord Mazdamundi of the Second Spawning, amber, slimy flesh almost melting into the dark of his meditation chamber. The platform he sat upon was actually quite small, considering his girth, but his eyes were closed in deep meditation, and thus its size did not bother him.
The slann often slept for extended periods. Mazdamundi could have meditated on the edge of sleep for decades easily. However, he did not allow his mind to drift so deeply into meditation. To do so would be to invite the lethargy that had struck down his kin. Nay, he must retain a degree of awareness, even in meditation, lest all become lost.
If he fell into meditation now, it would be likely that he simply would not wake up before the end of all things, for the end was fast approaching.
"The bear god wails." The thought flitted into the elderly slann's head, sent from another of his brethren. A telepathic communion, an urgent communion.
"The final sign. The end is upon us."
The end. It was such a terrifying thing. Yet at the same time, Mazdamundi could only regard it with the same thought as one lifting weight off ones back, for the Great Plan knew not mercy, and demanded perfection.
After all, the lizardmen had failed from the outset. The Great Plan, as it were, was still in its infancy, instructions from long ago. That was not the purpose of the roar, or indeed, many of the plaques he'd studied so long, though.
The Great Plan was not just instructions for the idealised reality, a universe of which the mortal realm was really such a small, insignificant part of. Rather, it was also layer upon layer of contingencies, of prophecies to avert disaster.
Yet on this prophecy, he was torn. What he had to do was so very clear. Did he have the courage to do it, knowing that there would be no seeing it through to the end? The very idea of it all seemed abhorrent. It tormented his sleep, and made him wish so dearly for counsel long gone.
After all, the First Spawn might know what he was faced with, understand the sacrifice he'd been charged with. The plaques were clear. There was no other slann he would entrust such an endeavour to. It was a merciless, ignoble end, yet a passing of the torch, and hope, to mortals.
The lizardmen had fundamentally failed. Perfection was not possible and the Great Plan was riddled with errors. Yet even in that imperfection, the Old Ones had seen a possible future, a ideal future, and left instructions to achieve it.
Yet at the last, Mazdamundi felt torn. Could he dare take that last, dreaded step?
Could he ever forgive himself for not doing so?
The years weighed on him. The longer he deliberated, the more weeks and even months were lost. How long had passed since news of the roar reached him? Was it still hours, or-
GRAAAAAAAAAAAAHR!
Days. Nay, it had been days, for the roar to pierce the shroud of chaos and reach the realm of mortality. Each moment the great priest delayed, time would slip away from him. It was a cruel fantasy, a nightmare made real.
"The warm-bloods gather. Chaos rips through the veil."
"Summon the Wanderer." Lord Mazdamundi's thoughts cut into the veil.
"The Defender remains at Konquata. They may assist in breaking Chaos hold in the times to come."
"You foresee something, elder?"
"In a sense. The Chaos gathers in the lands of warmbloods, of men, does it not?"
"It does." In one hand, Mazdamundi held the future of Hexoatl. The great city would be besieged, and without him, would certainly fall. Yet at the same time…
Sometimes one must trust in the contingencies of the Old Ones. He had read the signs. He understood what needed to be done. It was almost cruel of the Old Ones to leave him a prophecy of the results of his actions. In doing this, he would doom the City of the Sun.
No. Perhaps that wasn't true. After all, the prophecy was predicated on his inaction. This was another form of resistance and perseverance. The threads of chaos pulled tranquility every which way, but at the same time, one pure thought remained clear through it all. There might be no other way.
Mazdamundi did not have to like it.
He pulled himself from his meditations with the strength of will that one with purpose could only possess. His great fingers folded in his hands, as he lamented the monumental task before him.
The skinks rushed to attend to him, but the slann held them still with a raised hand.
"Unneeded. Send missives to the west, to Konquata. Send missives to the Wanderer. Tell them to seek Chaos." The slann declared, as he slowly drew himself from the ground. "I wish to see Zlaaq. Assist me."
The skinks almost tripped over themselves to assist. In their own way, they played a part in the Great Plan, something so small and insignificant, yet in bringing him comfort, they gave him the strength to do what he must.
And so, at the coming of dawn, the great slann priest hovered above the walls of his temple, his great stegadon huffing beside him, in preparation of the last great work. In the twilight of his life, perhaps, the Great Plan would come to fruition.
He simply wouldn't be there to see it.
-
To say that only one point of light answered the call of salvation of the lizardmen would be an understatement. They were not human, but their need was recognised to be in the defence of man and answered all the same. Nay, the true number was far closer to two hundred total, near and far.
However, two of those lights were drawn together. Soon they were joined by more as they shattered the breach of reality, coming from a world of Man to one descended into chaos. Perhaps it was the common root they shared of the Crystal Spider that allowed them to do so, or maybe it was something else.
Reality was a fickle thing, after all.
A new world. A new journey. It shouldn't have been possible; after all, possibilities that were denied were meant to vanish, however, sometimes the world and the will of man showed an aspect of kindness. It was unexpected, to be sure, but it was something that happened on occasion all the same.
In truth, Arturia had hoped for far more kindness in the future, as she dusted off her tunic as the light faded of her summoning, and turned her attention to the world around her. Her staff was easy enough to lean against, and the fields reminded her of Britain. In the distance, she could see castles and towns.
Nothing that so obviously necessitated a call for salvation. Perhaps the problem was an insidious poison in the earth, or some other malady of the mind…
"You look too serious." The blond girl's gaze went to her left, past her staff, to the red haired man who'd formed out of light beside her. His appearance was slightly different then she remembered, but he was still the same. White sleeves billowed around his wrists, hiding the ashigaru gauntlets on his hands from view, a light piece of cloth on his chest over the traditional pants and waist-guard of a Japanese archer. He was contradictory in the extreme, given, from her memory, he was a blacksmith.
"Is that a problem?" Arturia asked softly. The man just shook his head.
"No. Just…" He paused, pondering, before shaking his head, as if trying to clear away the dysphoria of summoning. It was in that moment, that Arturia was sure that he was not quite the same Senji Muramasa that she had once known.
Yet his lips twisted in something resembling kindness, and she understood. It wasn't that he wasn't Senji Muramasa, but that he'd been tempered in the experience of the world that was not.
He was someone new now.
More light flittered past her ear, and Arturia glanced back. Her lips threatened to crack into a grin. Alas, it was not quite a noble quest, but it seemed that there would be plenty of company.
For they were seven. In many ways, as it should be. Seven lights descending on humble Bretonnia in the throes of its woe.
- Arturia Avalon (Caster) has joined your retinue as your Legendary Lord.
- Senji Muramasa (Saber) has joined your retinue as a Legendary Hero.
Select five servants to have been summoned with you. The format is as follows:-
[ ] Servant Name
-[ ] Servant Class
For example:-
[ ] Cu Chulainn
-[ ] Lancer
[ ] Circe
-[ ] Caster
[ ] Herakles
-[ ] Berserker
You should keep in mind the compatibility of servants. Adding someone like Gilgamesh to your retinue would be troublesome in many ways.
Each player may vote for up to five servants. The five top servants will win.
