The Infinite Crucible
24-05-2005, 16:10
OOC: This is a story that is meant to give the NS world a taste of what my nation is like and introduce the two most important people in my nation. It is open to all, but I dont know how easy it will be to get into the story and have it make sense. I know it wont work at the moment, but in a few posts it should be possible.
IC:
This is a tale of a man whose power rivals that of the Emperor himself. This man commanded the loyalty of millions within the Infinite Crucible. Every day thousands would bow to rising sun to pay tribute to his deeds and hope that his hand would cross their paths. It was said that if he desired he could throw the current government to the wind destroying all traces of tyranny and he himself rise to the mantle of Emperor. However he never did so, and this was a simple fact that puzzled all who followed him, but only increased their fervor as they saw him as a truly pure figure. There are many tales of this man and his deeds, all of which surpass those of heroes of days long past. This is a tale from the life of Jeffery Ottomon, better known to his uncountable followers as The Crimson King.
Slowly it began, not with a bolt, there was no great sign or telling, no it began slow. It began with something so common as a slight storm drizzling the world below with a light mist and cold clammy air. So that was how it began. A slow storm. The morning had been clear, an uncommon thing on the central isles, and the bustle of life could be heard in the streets of cities and towns around the country. Slowly the kind blue sky was pushed out by thin wisps and later those were overtaken by lumbering clouds that extended for miles. It was said that for an instant before the first drop fell that all was silent. A single moment when all sounds slinked away to nothingness and a soothing blindness filled all those who breathed air. It was the ultimate calm before the storm. Then the calm ended and the first drop of a rather light drizzle hit the ground. What a legend that screaming meager droplet would become.
The water had fallen for miles and came down hitting a man, a rather ordinary man in the eye waking him from a deep slumber. This man was nondescript, plain in every aspect, save one. His mind was the greatest of the time. Now this does not mean he was the smartest chemist or the fastest mathematician. Nor could he write a gripping story or sing a song that lifted the heart. His mind was great in a way no one could imagine. He had vision. This was not vision in the sense of ambition, but when he looked at something he truly saw it. He was a man by the name of Jeffery. This ordinary man would become a legend.
Now this rain can not hope to take all the credit for this awakening. His dream had been a critical piece in the growing legend. It was the sort of dream that one in a million have and only a rare few of them are truly embraced by what comes from within. The contents of this dream were only spoken once, to a being whose wisdom surpassed the age of men.
So the story began and he awoke. A tale of ages had begun.
IC:
This is a tale of a man whose power rivals that of the Emperor himself. This man commanded the loyalty of millions within the Infinite Crucible. Every day thousands would bow to rising sun to pay tribute to his deeds and hope that his hand would cross their paths. It was said that if he desired he could throw the current government to the wind destroying all traces of tyranny and he himself rise to the mantle of Emperor. However he never did so, and this was a simple fact that puzzled all who followed him, but only increased their fervor as they saw him as a truly pure figure. There are many tales of this man and his deeds, all of which surpass those of heroes of days long past. This is a tale from the life of Jeffery Ottomon, better known to his uncountable followers as The Crimson King.
Slowly it began, not with a bolt, there was no great sign or telling, no it began slow. It began with something so common as a slight storm drizzling the world below with a light mist and cold clammy air. So that was how it began. A slow storm. The morning had been clear, an uncommon thing on the central isles, and the bustle of life could be heard in the streets of cities and towns around the country. Slowly the kind blue sky was pushed out by thin wisps and later those were overtaken by lumbering clouds that extended for miles. It was said that for an instant before the first drop fell that all was silent. A single moment when all sounds slinked away to nothingness and a soothing blindness filled all those who breathed air. It was the ultimate calm before the storm. Then the calm ended and the first drop of a rather light drizzle hit the ground. What a legend that screaming meager droplet would become.
The water had fallen for miles and came down hitting a man, a rather ordinary man in the eye waking him from a deep slumber. This man was nondescript, plain in every aspect, save one. His mind was the greatest of the time. Now this does not mean he was the smartest chemist or the fastest mathematician. Nor could he write a gripping story or sing a song that lifted the heart. His mind was great in a way no one could imagine. He had vision. This was not vision in the sense of ambition, but when he looked at something he truly saw it. He was a man by the name of Jeffery. This ordinary man would become a legend.
Now this rain can not hope to take all the credit for this awakening. His dream had been a critical piece in the growing legend. It was the sort of dream that one in a million have and only a rare few of them are truly embraced by what comes from within. The contents of this dream were only spoken once, to a being whose wisdom surpassed the age of men.
So the story began and he awoke. A tale of ages had begun.