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Outerlands Story Thread


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SilentSilth

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Prologue: A Long Forgotten Legend

Pekol - 'Unforgiving', in the Old Tongue, spoken by creatures far long gone for any to remember what they looked like, or their language truly meant. All that remains is Pekol - the monument of their suffering and their death. Yet still, with the world as difficult as it is, we know it was once much worse. Creatures who could steal the will of any living being; monsters that would kill quietly during the night; even abominations, their skin never once seeing light, that would drag unwary victims down into the depths of this harsh land, doing Gods-knows-what to them...

Worst of all were the Harbingers - creatures nearly twice the height of the first Humans, some even large enough to blot out the sun. They came in all forms and sizes; some old enough that entire worlds were on their backs, filled with living, breathing creatures. They moved across Pekol, mindlessly destroying in their wake, all the while, their Masters, the Ancients, laughed at the foolish humans trying to flee. There was no fighting; there was only fear and death. If it had not been for the Gods, our race - and the many others that grow around us - would not be alive today.

They descended upon the Harbingers from the sky, wielding weapons that gleamed in the light and powers never seen before. The six siblings felled the great creatures that harmed the young mortal races of Pekol with great thundering blows, chasing off those that survived their furious attack. The races of Pekol were given a chance: Many leapt into battle with the Gods, fighting side-by-side the furious monsters of the Ancients, driving them back to the Krayt mountains. What remained of the ragged forces of the Gods stood and faced the six Ancients, their fear overcome by the Dieties at their side. The battle was fierce, with fire lashing through the air and every blow booming like thunder. The Ancients were powerful, felling what little mortal races the Gods had left, but the siblings were ready.

While their mortal allies were distracting the other Ancients, the Gods would focus on one enemy at a time, and would rent their soul from their body. With their powers gone, the Mortals themselves would kill the once-Ancients, until only one remained, the most powerful Ancient of them all: Thanatos. When his body and soul were ripped apart, it is said the shock caused a great divide in the Krayt mountains - After which, he was not long for Pekol. With their enemies vanquished, the Gods and Mortals celebrated, despite the loss; for once, Pekol would be safe.

This is where we come from; A legend of old, mostly forgotten by even the Elders. Who can blame them? The tales between Luna and Solaris entertain the children; Aedus and his brooding personality fascinate most young women, while Dyfri's free spirit enamores the younger men. A Legend about pain and suffering, about the creation of our world as we know it, falls only on the ears of us Descendants. Those who came from the Gods when they sowed their wild oats; we're the only few who know this tale.

...Mostly.
 
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SilentSilth

SilentSilth

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Re: Outerlands Story Thread

Everyone knew Shania. She was a Descendent of Aedus - Probably more powerful than even Del's mother... And only the age of twenty. She was cheerful, and capable of bringing a smile to the face of any villager. She was just and kind; by far the favorite of the village.

So when she was taken in the night, it was more than a cause for concern. The Descendants who considered themselves friends of Shania went looking for her; but few returned, telling tales of horrible monstronsities that roamed the forests all around the village, and the foothills, far to the East; there were more around their known world than they had realized. And, in the middle of the night... The rescuers were gone, just like Shania: No trace of what took her, or the several men and women.

The Village was in dire straits. Their food was in dwindling supply, their wells close to running dry; without any help from their fledgling Descendants, the village would run out of food and water... and protection. So, it was decided by the Elder: They'd need to send out their Descendants, even the ones with little training, in order to survive. Some Descendants may be lost - but the few lost outweighed the potential benefits they could bring in.

The morning after the oldest Descendants were lost, the Elder called for a meeting of all the villagers. When everyone but the children had gathered, the elder, a feeble old man, balding, with a bit of grey about his ears and a short, hacked-up beard, stood in front of the ceremonial fire pit. He cleared his throat, and held up his hands...

"We've been here... For a very, very long time. Five Generations before myself - and you know how old I am," He pauses for what seems to be a lack of laughter, "But... It is the first time I can say we have experienced times as dark as these. We've lost friends; husbands and wives; and some of us can even say we've lost children in these recent... 'events'. But we shouldn't be disheartened. After all, we have these young Descendants, all around us, ready to help."

Murmurs from the crowd come from all around; after all, they all know about Zalla's notorious drinking; or Erryn's excessive training through sand-bags to the chest; or, even Emelie's 'sexlexia' acting up every few hours. The other Descendants weren't much better; sure, many of them were attractive, young women, but there were monsters out there that prayed on that sort of thing.

"I understand your doubts; Really, I do. But... These children have been raised by now only those before them, but the village as a whole. And while we may not have the..." his eyes trailed over Celeste, even though she couldn't see him back, "...greatest faith in them... I can certainly say that we do need their help. If these reports of monsters are true, then.. Tell me, which one of us, the regular humans, could stand up against even a gnoll?"

Again, murmurs, this time less desenting - more in agreement. Hearing this, the elder seemed inspired, nodding his head and rubbing his hands together: "That's right. We need these Descendants - the children of the Gods. If we don't ask them to help us... We will cease to exist." Clearing his throat, the man touches his hands together gingerly, looking at the Descendants at the front of the crowd.

"I know this is a... difficult time, but... we need your help. Will you go forth, to find help us fill our coffers? To destroy the darkness that plagues this land?"
 
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