Philosopher
PostPosted: Sun Jan 23, 2011 12:38 am
A little bit of background. The last god, known to mortals as the Philosopher, is a character I created to serve as a framing device for a setting I've been world-building for a few years now. She is a mysterious goddess who wanders the world and tells stories. Her name isn't really known, but people have attributed all sorts of domains to her, from philosophy, to music, to the arts and wisdom. The fact that she keeps them guessing by never acknowledging nor denying the various attempts to give her a domain only makes her more difficult to pin.
The world rules and myths are actually more complex, and this short foreword probably wouldn't suffice, but I think it should be enough for now. So... a short snippet.
***
So it is said, that when the last god rose out from Illuvium, and travelled south to Cetanta, the people welcomed Her with cheers and palms and rice. Rice was a staple of Cetanta, as it was with the rest of the cities within the Three Kingdoms. It had surpassed the bread that had been brought there by their ancestors, who, having had little time to escape the plague, escaped with what little they could carry.
She was entreated to a corner of the city square, where the people would gather and listen to her stories. The little children sat closer, while their parents and adults stood near to keep watch over them.
The people would bring gifts and offerings, and insisted even as She kindly declined. The True Gods hungered not for the love of the mortal, and most sought no glory. Indeed, most paid no attention to the beings who lived and died. Their work was more important, above any other priority that could be fathomed by a single living creature.
So too did the last god prefer that the mortals heed Her stories.
The days went on, and while the scribes wrote down what they were told, neither they, nor the rest of the people, understood what the stories meant.
"Empires rise and fall. Some from decay, and others through tragedy. But a select few are of a whim, that of folly, one that plays Chance and Fortune as he would roll a die.
An Emperor tossed a coin, and as he did, felt the presence of Fortune. Fortune smiled on him and said, "Your armies shall be victorious today, you will break and shatter your enemies, and rend asunder their armies. Their land will fall under your rule, and their people will bow to your sceptre."
And so the Emperor waged war, and won all his battles that day. He offered his victories to Fortune, and blessed it and all that it brought him. "So long as you are on my side," said the Emperor, "I shall be victorious."
The next day, he rolled a die, and Fortune said, "You are lucky again, for now your enemies tremble at the very mention of your name. Your armies have crushed theirs. Their land has become yours, and their people are now your subjects. Are you glad?"
"Yes. But I would be so much more, if I held the world itself." The Emperor waged war again that day, and trampled his enemies afoot.
Fortune said, "Then try your luck," and smiled.
On the third day, the Emperor drew a straw. Fortune said, "Woe be to you, for drawing the short straw. Woe be to you for placing your faith in Fortune and Chance. The empires beyond the mountains in the west, and beyond the sea in the east, beyond the desert in the south, and beyond the swamps to the north hear of your advance. They have been prepared for ages, watching you intently, seeing you grow from a quiet village to the empire you see today. Now their mighty armies march upon your new lands and your new subjects, to take them as their own."
Enraged, the Emperor demanded, "Give me back the straw, that I may draw again and this time be more fortunate!"
But Fortune had left him, and the armies closed in from the four directions. The empire crumbled on that day, and the Emperor fell from the first arrow shot in battle."
The people of Cetanta did not understand what She meant, but it fascinated them. The poets sang songs in Her name. They lavished Her with more gifts and offerings, and even sacrifices that were meant for the Temple of Phlogos. Word reached the High Priest in the city, and he came to the square to induct Her into the pantheon of Phlogos.
But the last god knew of his intentions, and fled the city, even as the people pursued Her, that she might be caught and brought to the Temple of Phlogos. Though they closed the city gates, She escaped through the sewers. She continued her journey south to Shkekht.
***
Aaaand, that's about it. I'm not really sure what I ended up writing, but it seems to be a mix of various things and throws references about. Not exactly original, but I guess it's my fault for being rather derivative.
Questions and comments are welcome.
The world rules and myths are actually more complex, and this short foreword probably wouldn't suffice, but I think it should be enough for now. So... a short snippet.
***
So it is said, that when the last god rose out from Illuvium, and travelled south to Cetanta, the people welcomed Her with cheers and palms and rice. Rice was a staple of Cetanta, as it was with the rest of the cities within the Three Kingdoms. It had surpassed the bread that had been brought there by their ancestors, who, having had little time to escape the plague, escaped with what little they could carry.
She was entreated to a corner of the city square, where the people would gather and listen to her stories. The little children sat closer, while their parents and adults stood near to keep watch over them.
The people would bring gifts and offerings, and insisted even as She kindly declined. The True Gods hungered not for the love of the mortal, and most sought no glory. Indeed, most paid no attention to the beings who lived and died. Their work was more important, above any other priority that could be fathomed by a single living creature.
So too did the last god prefer that the mortals heed Her stories.
The days went on, and while the scribes wrote down what they were told, neither they, nor the rest of the people, understood what the stories meant.
"Empires rise and fall. Some from decay, and others through tragedy. But a select few are of a whim, that of folly, one that plays Chance and Fortune as he would roll a die.
An Emperor tossed a coin, and as he did, felt the presence of Fortune. Fortune smiled on him and said, "Your armies shall be victorious today, you will break and shatter your enemies, and rend asunder their armies. Their land will fall under your rule, and their people will bow to your sceptre."
And so the Emperor waged war, and won all his battles that day. He offered his victories to Fortune, and blessed it and all that it brought him. "So long as you are on my side," said the Emperor, "I shall be victorious."
The next day, he rolled a die, and Fortune said, "You are lucky again, for now your enemies tremble at the very mention of your name. Your armies have crushed theirs. Their land has become yours, and their people are now your subjects. Are you glad?"
"Yes. But I would be so much more, if I held the world itself." The Emperor waged war again that day, and trampled his enemies afoot.
Fortune said, "Then try your luck," and smiled.
On the third day, the Emperor drew a straw. Fortune said, "Woe be to you, for drawing the short straw. Woe be to you for placing your faith in Fortune and Chance. The empires beyond the mountains in the west, and beyond the sea in the east, beyond the desert in the south, and beyond the swamps to the north hear of your advance. They have been prepared for ages, watching you intently, seeing you grow from a quiet village to the empire you see today. Now their mighty armies march upon your new lands and your new subjects, to take them as their own."
Enraged, the Emperor demanded, "Give me back the straw, that I may draw again and this time be more fortunate!"
But Fortune had left him, and the armies closed in from the four directions. The empire crumbled on that day, and the Emperor fell from the first arrow shot in battle."
The people of Cetanta did not understand what She meant, but it fascinated them. The poets sang songs in Her name. They lavished Her with more gifts and offerings, and even sacrifices that were meant for the Temple of Phlogos. Word reached the High Priest in the city, and he came to the square to induct Her into the pantheon of Phlogos.
But the last god knew of his intentions, and fled the city, even as the people pursued Her, that she might be caught and brought to the Temple of Phlogos. Though they closed the city gates, She escaped through the sewers. She continued her journey south to Shkekht.
***
Aaaand, that's about it. I'm not really sure what I ended up writing, but it seems to be a mix of various things and throws references about. Not exactly original, but I guess it's my fault for being rather derivative.
Questions and comments are welcome.