Post by Prime on Sept 25, 2010 9:20:28 GMT -5
Ten years, five months, and three days ago. That is when I died. My name, is Lyrill Geadlann. I come from a mainly Scottish family, and I used to live in the highlands with my family. We operated a small buisness, growing wine, and it was in that stoic place that I read.
I used to read a lot, almost any kind of story. I particularly enjoyed the more adventurous ones. You know, the type where an unknown man becomes a well hailed hero, and falls in love. The happily ever after type. However, had I known the reality, perhaps I wouldn't have wish so hard for a life like that.
One night, watching the stars, our house caught on fire. I rushed in to save my family, not knowing that they were already outside. I needlessly put myself in danger, and suffered for it. As I rushed in, the rafters over the door crashed down. My body, limp and helpless, was crushed and burned. My soul sat next to it, watching his life broil away.
And that is how I ended up here. My cousins like to call this place, Otherland. Its name somewhat depends on where you died, each having its own destination. Here, the strongest defining trait of combat in our culture, is the bastard sword. Or claymore, call it as you will. A sword, roughly the height of a man, with the option to be welded with either one or two hands.
That is how I discovered that death is not the end, and over the past ten years, I have learned. Finding that I had the gift, I joined the Death Knights, as they like to call themselves. However, our society, our situation, is not the story I wish to tell. Instead, I wish to tell of another place and time. Not the past, but the present.
As I write this, I am walking amidst twenty other men, on our way to meet the Shinigami. The supposed Death Gods of the Japanese Otherworld society. All of us have the nagging suspicion, that this won't end well. We have heard of their Spirit King, and we have a similar concept to defend.
I don't know how this will go, perhaps we will become two warring nations, and once again be no different from the lives we lived before. It would be shameful, but predictable as an outcome. Peace, always seems to be out of reach....
A sighing dream.
************************************************
Lyrill looked around cautiously. Both camps were composed of twenty men, each side dressed in standard uniforms. The Shinigami were dressed in full samurai clothing, he'd forgotten what they called them, and carried Katana's.
The Death Knights, the noble lords of the dead, were wearing belted down chainmail armor. At their waists were their swords, ranging in size only a little. A fairly basic hand and a half sword with a wide blade, that was so much more than it at first appeared.
Lyrill was one of the most swiftly accomplished men among the group, having reached Lordship in less than 10 years. He'd now held his position for two years, one of only 8 men to hold the title. Less than the Shinigami faction, as he understood it. And he knew it placed them at somewhat of a disadvantage.
Lyrill looked around at his men, standing uncomfortably, hiding their emotions. He could read them well, he saw their discomfort. There was a nervous air of anticipation and hostility. No one was comfortable with the discovery that they'd lost their supposedly sole dominion over the dead.
Lyrill sighed, and stepped forward. They had all conspired to chose a simple location for the meeting. An Island in the middle of the pacific ocean, a waterfall fell into a small lake, which became a river down to the islands coast. The sun was high in the sky, and the tree's around the edges of the lake grew tall and strong. An interesting mixture of bamboo and evergreen tree's.
Deserted, perhaps uninhabitable without extensive support from the mainlands, and a perfect location to make sure no living soul became involved in their discussion. However it turned out.
"Who speaks for the Shinigami?" Lyrill asked formally, looking over the men before him. He could sense their strength and conviction, the air trembled with it. As yet, however, no one was hostile. That was good, over half the men there would be overcome by the power of either sides captains.
I used to read a lot, almost any kind of story. I particularly enjoyed the more adventurous ones. You know, the type where an unknown man becomes a well hailed hero, and falls in love. The happily ever after type. However, had I known the reality, perhaps I wouldn't have wish so hard for a life like that.
One night, watching the stars, our house caught on fire. I rushed in to save my family, not knowing that they were already outside. I needlessly put myself in danger, and suffered for it. As I rushed in, the rafters over the door crashed down. My body, limp and helpless, was crushed and burned. My soul sat next to it, watching his life broil away.
And that is how I ended up here. My cousins like to call this place, Otherland. Its name somewhat depends on where you died, each having its own destination. Here, the strongest defining trait of combat in our culture, is the bastard sword. Or claymore, call it as you will. A sword, roughly the height of a man, with the option to be welded with either one or two hands.
That is how I discovered that death is not the end, and over the past ten years, I have learned. Finding that I had the gift, I joined the Death Knights, as they like to call themselves. However, our society, our situation, is not the story I wish to tell. Instead, I wish to tell of another place and time. Not the past, but the present.
As I write this, I am walking amidst twenty other men, on our way to meet the Shinigami. The supposed Death Gods of the Japanese Otherworld society. All of us have the nagging suspicion, that this won't end well. We have heard of their Spirit King, and we have a similar concept to defend.
I don't know how this will go, perhaps we will become two warring nations, and once again be no different from the lives we lived before. It would be shameful, but predictable as an outcome. Peace, always seems to be out of reach....
A sighing dream.
************************************************
Lyrill looked around cautiously. Both camps were composed of twenty men, each side dressed in standard uniforms. The Shinigami were dressed in full samurai clothing, he'd forgotten what they called them, and carried Katana's.
The Death Knights, the noble lords of the dead, were wearing belted down chainmail armor. At their waists were their swords, ranging in size only a little. A fairly basic hand and a half sword with a wide blade, that was so much more than it at first appeared.
Lyrill was one of the most swiftly accomplished men among the group, having reached Lordship in less than 10 years. He'd now held his position for two years, one of only 8 men to hold the title. Less than the Shinigami faction, as he understood it. And he knew it placed them at somewhat of a disadvantage.
Lyrill looked around at his men, standing uncomfortably, hiding their emotions. He could read them well, he saw their discomfort. There was a nervous air of anticipation and hostility. No one was comfortable with the discovery that they'd lost their supposedly sole dominion over the dead.
Lyrill sighed, and stepped forward. They had all conspired to chose a simple location for the meeting. An Island in the middle of the pacific ocean, a waterfall fell into a small lake, which became a river down to the islands coast. The sun was high in the sky, and the tree's around the edges of the lake grew tall and strong. An interesting mixture of bamboo and evergreen tree's.
Deserted, perhaps uninhabitable without extensive support from the mainlands, and a perfect location to make sure no living soul became involved in their discussion. However it turned out.
"Who speaks for the Shinigami?" Lyrill asked formally, looking over the men before him. He could sense their strength and conviction, the air trembled with it. As yet, however, no one was hostile. That was good, over half the men there would be overcome by the power of either sides captains.
If someone wants to jump in as a Shinigami captain to negotiate, you can see where this is going. I want this to turn out well, though I'd like to keep it seperate from most characters. Exceptions to those characters who can see or interact with the dead due to their nature. So, those using holy or unholy energy I expect to notice these guys at some point.