[MP Game] The Eye of Chaos

The Rise of Zenophon

"Hear me!

I am Aeschines the Damned, Orator of Eldregate. Last Historian of Zenophon, Emperor of Ermor. Years were but grains of sand during the days of our glory and our fall. Deep into the forbidden rites did we delve and with it came the price of power that we now bear. But that is ... another story. Tonight I speak of the Rise of Zenophon.

Legions buried beneath the sea of life were forgotten in the world and time with it, forgotten the glory of Ermor. So it was the Zenophon, Lord of Navigaton, Prince of Many Names, King of Kings, Lord of Fear and Trembling sat brooding deep in the bowels of the Underworld. The dead play no less the games political than the living and so it was that opportunity came and sat before Zenophon.

Power. Power as such as could not be imagined rested in the world. Within the world living there were places, places where such power was focused, gathered like dew upon leaves for any to take who could but see. Power perverse that would allow the ascension past these games played by the dead to claim his true heritage and dominion over the dead. Insects they would become and his hand would wrap the world!

Thus it was that Zenophon stepped free of the bounds of the Underworld and followed the scent of power. There, amid the sands of the great desert the power lurked. An eye turned to those who walked upon it for one who would claim it. So it was that Zenophon came and took residence in this land, a citadel rising as a black talon. And I, Aeschines followed. There within the black citadel my emperor Zenophon stretched forth his hand and the dead remembered. They remembered the glory of Ermor and the promises of the past. They came to his call marching to the citadel, servants to the will of the Emperor.

But! Emperor Zenophon was not alone amid these lands, for power as I said is perverse. Chaos follows it like a child lost and wraps it tightly. But we all know it's hunger reaches through everything and so it was not alone that my Lord saw this power or the greed to take it."

The voice lowered and only the sound of echoes remained. The audience waited as Aeschines gave pause to his tale.


Editor's Note: There is no Editor, so these will be extremely rough drafts. If you don't like crude writing, it would be best not to view anything written by me.

[ January 18, 2004, 09:08: Message edited by: Zen ]

[General Tacticus]

In the caves under the God Mountain, the Sacred Spiders are restless. They shuffle and scuffle, they hiss and snap, and even the Black Sorcerers dare not come near them...

Order slowly emerges from this Chaos. The spiders start following a pattern. Round and round they go, following a twisted and crooked path, yet never deviating...

Gradually they speed up, their movements becoming more frenzied, yet never straying from the Path...

And from their midst He rises, He Who Is At The Center, the King of Kings, the Summer Lord; And here He stands in His Glory, Arch-Arachn-General Tacticus, the Patron of Soldiers, the Symbol of Unchallenged Victory.

And as he takes His rightful place in the pantheon of Machaka, seers around the World cringe with fear...

[Zapmeister]

Just a quick suggestion. Since you have 16 signups including the reserve, and I'd make the 17th, why not play in Orania with a full house?

Any reason for particularly wanting to play in the Desert Eye?

[ January 18, 2004, 11:36: Message edited by: Zen ]

[Zapmeister]

Sure - how broken can it be, says I?
I'll go see if I can find the relevant thread ...

Edit: Ah, I see. Very nasty. OK, I'll pass.

[ January 18, 2004, 10:32: Message edited by: Zapmeister ]

[ January 18, 2004, 11:36: Message edited by: Zen ]

[Teraswaerto]

Beneath the dark churning waters of the great sea, a new age is nigh at hand. Coral Queens are enthralled by visions bloodred seas and the slaughter of infidels, Mother Guards are sharpening their Glaives and Deep Seers utter prophecies of becoming floods. Nervous whispers echo in the ears of even the smallest Atlantean.

The Great One is returning to us! The Supreme God is gone, and the exile has ended! Chungaat, the mightiest and the most ancient of the Atlanteans is with us once more! Tower-high waves crash on the shores and grey curtains of rain fall. Even the bravest of landlubbers tremble in their dwelling, be it cottage, castle or crystal citadel.

Tremble ye infidels, for the sea is His voice, and the poisonous forest of Coral Spears is but one of His fingers. All bow before the mighty Chungaat!