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Post by S p e c t r a on Feb 4, 2008 16:51:03 GMT -5
This is the tale of how the beautiful land of Imbros went to hell
There was peace once, though by now it is but a distant memory in the minds of those old enough to remember. There was order and cohesion, and nothing to fear. The Keepers of Hesperides stayed within their walled Haven, and none disrupted their peace. There was always a rumor that an object of unspeakable power lay hidden within those great walls, but in time the rumor grew dull with age. The only time other equines were allowed into the Haven was at the turn of a new century, when all the herd leaders would convene there. Only the strongest of the land became leaders of the herds; and so only the strongest ever saw the inside of the walls. The Haven of Hesperides, and what it guarded, was so enchanted, so strange and forbidden that the weak-minded would assuredly go mad if they were welcomed in unprohibited. Even so, it was a rare treat for any herd leader to visit the Haven, as it often took six generations or so for the arrival of a new century.
At this past century's gathering, things began to change. A young dappled stallion, strong in youth and in wits, entered into the realm as leader of a small band he had won from another not days before. At first he was like any other, enjoying his stay and welcoming the change of environment. But, younger than the rest, he was curious, and this was his downfall.
You see, there were no Darks or Lights in this land, every horse was as good or cruel as he saw fit. In fact, the only real community were the Keepers, a large tribe of horses who lived behind an old human-built wall that kept them fenced off from the rest of the world. This plot of land that they dwelled upon was the Haven, or so they called it, for the humans who had lived there long ago were such efficient masons that the wall loomed too high, too thick, too large for any to enter without help from the inside. And the Keepers kept within those walls, at the very heart of the land, a secret. There was so little known about it; in fact, that no one really knew what it was. All that was known was that it was an object. And that it would give incredible power to the user. And that it was hidden.
The young grey, a stallion by the name of Tartarus, desired to know more. He was in a weak situation, being the youngest and least experienced of the ranking stallions. Any chance to get hold of some power sounded like a good idea to him. He befriended a maiden within the walls, Adamanthea, a daughter of the Keepers. She told him all she knew of the object, though she was still young and had not yet been trusted with all the information. Tartarus didn't pay much attention to her words except when she mentioned the might and greatness the object would give to its possessor. In his greed he missed possibly the most important information he could have obtained. There was very little about what one would do when faced with the Thing itself, but there was an old song, passed down through generations, that told of the destruction it would cause to any who tried to tame it by force. But that was all that was given. And even as the maiden was telling him this he was daydreaming of what he might do with such a thing.
A plan formed in his mind. He spread a rumor; a whisper of discontent among all the herd leaders. He never said it aloud, but he subtly hinted that the Keepers were misleading them, holding something away from them all that rightfully belonged to them. So when it came time for the gathering of all, he stood up and spoke his piece. Some were outraged that he would even conceive of such a thing; some simply put it to his youth and curiosity, but a select few sought to join him. They were all the heads of certain northern herds; great in number, and all tall powerful draft brutes. Fearing revolt and backed by his small group of followers, Tartarus and his maiden eloped, with the drafts close in his wake.
They fled up north to the draft ones' homeland, where he could fear no reprimand. All was well for awhile, but as he sat in that deserted land of ice and snow he became more and more solitary. His coat; adjusting to the lack of light from all the time he spent in caves and crevices, grew darker to a murky grey and did not grow light again. His mind grew darker as well; he brooded upon his own words and thoughts, and with no one near him, his thoughts grew wild and unchecked. Eventually only his lover was allowed in his presence. Only she could calm him from his rages and chase the madness from his eyes.
After several moon cycles, he emerged a different horse. He was stretched thin from lack of exercise or food, and he had a gaunt, haunted look about him. One of his followers had stood in for him as second-in-command, leading his faes in his absence. Seeing this as a threat to his leadership, Tartarus killed him in front of the rest of the black brutes as an example to those who defied his authority. He also murdered his foals and his lead faes and took the rest for himself. In his quiet time, he had formed a plan. He explained that his path had become clear; his fate was to conquer all opposing lands and eventually the Haven itself. Once defeated, he would take the Thing and set it for all to use. This was the lie he told the followers, and the lie he told himself. He truly believed that all this was for the better good, that this was the way everything must be in order to bring peace to the realm. But his small subconscious mind that had turned Dark during his seclusion now had complete control over the rest of him. it fed him what he wanted to hear; that he was a generous soul thinking for the greater good, but it maintained its own goals. It wanted the Object of Power, and would stop at nothing.
Tartarus knew that he and his followers weren't nearly strong enough to conquer a single herd, let alone the realm. For those loose alliances between herds would draw tight under threat; they would forget their differences and unite against a common enemy. His first act was to promote a younger black stag, a spawn of one of the Northern brutes, as captain among them. This he did not because the colt was stronger than the rest; rather that he was weaker. He befriended the colt, and made sure that whenever the colt needed advice on how to keep the rest under control, that he was there with aid. In this way he completely controlled all of the brutes.
Taking the mares of all the brutes, after making them swear their loyalty to him, he did the unthinkable. He ordered the faes to disperse themselves among the surrounding bands. They were to go each two to a band, and say that they had fled from the Dark Leader up north. Though distressed by the loss of their maidens, the brutes dared not say a word. After one moon, during a dark, moonless night, every vix awoke and, as instructed, killed the lead stags of the herds they were in. They killed so many, and there were so many surplus of mares, that they could not be taken to the high northern land. The grey, along with his followers, swept through the lands they had conquered, killed any remaining stags and their foals, and left only the mares alive. He and his brutes dwelled there for a time, force breeding any mares they could find. The mares under their control, starting out at only seven bands of four each, swelled and swelled. He took the strong fillies born for himself and his captains, and took the strong colts up north to train them for his army.
After three summers, he went south again with his newly-trained army and nine of his draft brutes, leaving the last three in control of the conquered land and the North. He sent their Captain, now a strong brute of seven summers, but still weak-minded, to take over the rest of the lands. And take over he did. Everywhere they went, they killed all the stags and lead faes, as well as the spawn of the leads. Everywhere they went, the grey came in with a small victory party and proclaimed how merciful he was, how he was doing this for their own good.
Now only a handful of tribes remain to stand 'twixt the grey and the Haven, hidden behind a vast forest. The Guardian of the ten tribes is mysterious; rarely present in flesh but seemingly always present in essence. Few have seen him, but many know of him. Tales of him are often contradicting. Is he a fiery chestnut, a mellow roan, or a bright shining palomino? But all who wish to live in freedom whisper the same name with hope: Theseus. The Keepers, led by their three wisest elders, are readying themselves for war for the first time since they discovered the Haven. The remaining free tribes are desperately trying to hold off the dappled tyrant's massive army, hoping the Keepers will make a place for them to retreat inside the walls. Every year Tartarus's ranks swell, being grown from the spawn forcebred from the Weaklands and stolen from them at weaning time. Tartarus, however, seems to waste away; during his rages only Adamanthea's soft, singsong voice can soothe him. There is something troubling her mind, though. She remembers the old song telling of the destruction of any who try to tame the object her lover so desperately desires. For through all this, she loves him, she still loves the brute though his affection has become a twisted, poisonous thing. She still sees the handsome dappled youth she first laid eyes upon those years ago. Though he does not know it, he loves her in a way as well, but it is in a hungry, conquering way. She is a tool, a worshiper as well. She satisfies his ego as well as strengthening his resolve when he demands that she repeat the tales of this Object's powers.
The history of the land's conflict is © Schatten, revised by Spectra
There was peace once, though by now it is but a distant memory in the minds of those old enough to remember. There was order and cohesion, and nothing to fear. The Keepers of Hesperides stayed within their walled Haven, and none disrupted their peace. There was always a rumor that an object of unspeakable power lay hidden within those great walls, but in time the rumor grew dull with age. The only time other equines were allowed into the Haven was at the turn of a new century, when all the herd leaders would convene there. Only the strongest of the land became leaders of the herds; and so only the strongest ever saw the inside of the walls. The Haven of Hesperides, and what it guarded, was so enchanted, so strange and forbidden that the weak-minded would assuredly go mad if they were welcomed in unprohibited. Even so, it was a rare treat for any herd leader to visit the Haven, as it often took six generations or so for the arrival of a new century.
At this past century's gathering, things began to change. A young dappled stallion, strong in youth and in wits, entered into the realm as leader of a small band he had won from another not days before. At first he was like any other, enjoying his stay and welcoming the change of environment. But, younger than the rest, he was curious, and this was his downfall.
You see, there were no Darks or Lights in this land, every horse was as good or cruel as he saw fit. In fact, the only real community were the Keepers, a large tribe of horses who lived behind an old human-built wall that kept them fenced off from the rest of the world. This plot of land that they dwelled upon was the Haven, or so they called it, for the humans who had lived there long ago were such efficient masons that the wall loomed too high, too thick, too large for any to enter without help from the inside. And the Keepers kept within those walls, at the very heart of the land, a secret. There was so little known about it; in fact, that no one really knew what it was. All that was known was that it was an object. And that it would give incredible power to the user. And that it was hidden.
The young grey, a stallion by the name of Tartarus, desired to know more. He was in a weak situation, being the youngest and least experienced of the ranking stallions. Any chance to get hold of some power sounded like a good idea to him. He befriended a maiden within the walls, Adamanthea, a daughter of the Keepers. She told him all she knew of the object, though she was still young and had not yet been trusted with all the information. Tartarus didn't pay much attention to her words except when she mentioned the might and greatness the object would give to its possessor. In his greed he missed possibly the most important information he could have obtained. There was very little about what one would do when faced with the Thing itself, but there was an old song, passed down through generations, that told of the destruction it would cause to any who tried to tame it by force. But that was all that was given. And even as the maiden was telling him this he was daydreaming of what he might do with such a thing.
A plan formed in his mind. He spread a rumor; a whisper of discontent among all the herd leaders. He never said it aloud, but he subtly hinted that the Keepers were misleading them, holding something away from them all that rightfully belonged to them. So when it came time for the gathering of all, he stood up and spoke his piece. Some were outraged that he would even conceive of such a thing; some simply put it to his youth and curiosity, but a select few sought to join him. They were all the heads of certain northern herds; great in number, and all tall powerful draft brutes. Fearing revolt and backed by his small group of followers, Tartarus and his maiden eloped, with the drafts close in his wake.
They fled up north to the draft ones' homeland, where he could fear no reprimand. All was well for awhile, but as he sat in that deserted land of ice and snow he became more and more solitary. His coat; adjusting to the lack of light from all the time he spent in caves and crevices, grew darker to a murky grey and did not grow light again. His mind grew darker as well; he brooded upon his own words and thoughts, and with no one near him, his thoughts grew wild and unchecked. Eventually only his lover was allowed in his presence. Only she could calm him from his rages and chase the madness from his eyes.
After several moon cycles, he emerged a different horse. He was stretched thin from lack of exercise or food, and he had a gaunt, haunted look about him. One of his followers had stood in for him as second-in-command, leading his faes in his absence. Seeing this as a threat to his leadership, Tartarus killed him in front of the rest of the black brutes as an example to those who defied his authority. He also murdered his foals and his lead faes and took the rest for himself. In his quiet time, he had formed a plan. He explained that his path had become clear; his fate was to conquer all opposing lands and eventually the Haven itself. Once defeated, he would take the Thing and set it for all to use. This was the lie he told the followers, and the lie he told himself. He truly believed that all this was for the better good, that this was the way everything must be in order to bring peace to the realm. But his small subconscious mind that had turned Dark during his seclusion now had complete control over the rest of him. it fed him what he wanted to hear; that he was a generous soul thinking for the greater good, but it maintained its own goals. It wanted the Object of Power, and would stop at nothing.
Tartarus knew that he and his followers weren't nearly strong enough to conquer a single herd, let alone the realm. For those loose alliances between herds would draw tight under threat; they would forget their differences and unite against a common enemy. His first act was to promote a younger black stag, a spawn of one of the Northern brutes, as captain among them. This he did not because the colt was stronger than the rest; rather that he was weaker. He befriended the colt, and made sure that whenever the colt needed advice on how to keep the rest under control, that he was there with aid. In this way he completely controlled all of the brutes.
Taking the mares of all the brutes, after making them swear their loyalty to him, he did the unthinkable. He ordered the faes to disperse themselves among the surrounding bands. They were to go each two to a band, and say that they had fled from the Dark Leader up north. Though distressed by the loss of their maidens, the brutes dared not say a word. After one moon, during a dark, moonless night, every vix awoke and, as instructed, killed the lead stags of the herds they were in. They killed so many, and there were so many surplus of mares, that they could not be taken to the high northern land. The grey, along with his followers, swept through the lands they had conquered, killed any remaining stags and their foals, and left only the mares alive. He and his brutes dwelled there for a time, force breeding any mares they could find. The mares under their control, starting out at only seven bands of four each, swelled and swelled. He took the strong fillies born for himself and his captains, and took the strong colts up north to train them for his army.
After three summers, he went south again with his newly-trained army and nine of his draft brutes, leaving the last three in control of the conquered land and the North. He sent their Captain, now a strong brute of seven summers, but still weak-minded, to take over the rest of the lands. And take over he did. Everywhere they went, they killed all the stags and lead faes, as well as the spawn of the leads. Everywhere they went, the grey came in with a small victory party and proclaimed how merciful he was, how he was doing this for their own good.
Now only a handful of tribes remain to stand 'twixt the grey and the Haven, hidden behind a vast forest. The Guardian of the ten tribes is mysterious; rarely present in flesh but seemingly always present in essence. Few have seen him, but many know of him. Tales of him are often contradicting. Is he a fiery chestnut, a mellow roan, or a bright shining palomino? But all who wish to live in freedom whisper the same name with hope: Theseus. The Keepers, led by their three wisest elders, are readying themselves for war for the first time since they discovered the Haven. The remaining free tribes are desperately trying to hold off the dappled tyrant's massive army, hoping the Keepers will make a place for them to retreat inside the walls. Every year Tartarus's ranks swell, being grown from the spawn forcebred from the Weaklands and stolen from them at weaning time. Tartarus, however, seems to waste away; during his rages only Adamanthea's soft, singsong voice can soothe him. There is something troubling her mind, though. She remembers the old song telling of the destruction of any who try to tame the object her lover so desperately desires. For through all this, she loves him, she still loves the brute though his affection has become a twisted, poisonous thing. She still sees the handsome dappled youth she first laid eyes upon those years ago. Though he does not know it, he loves her in a way as well, but it is in a hungry, conquering way. She is a tool, a worshiper as well. She satisfies his ego as well as strengthening his resolve when he demands that she repeat the tales of this Object's powers.
The history of the land's conflict is © Schatten, revised by Spectra
