(Hi there. Time to get back into the Legacy of Kain story that so many people have assured me is the 'Byst 1 evah' as I've left you people hanging for quite a bit now. That not due to my having personal problems this time but rather due to a combination of art projects, a business venture and Skyrim. Now - a few things to state. I said that Insurrection and Equinox would be coming out around the same time. Well that concept has changed after I realised I was about to make a horrible mistake. Equinox will now be the last story in my little series and something else will come out in a little bit alongside Insurrection. What is it you may ask? Not telling you - you'll just have to wait and see. Secondly - this prologue and chapter one are being released ahead of schedule so the next chapters will be coming along in a little while. My editor is incommunicado at the moment so they will also be a few spelling and graphical errors until I can get them corrected so bare with me. (I also like to do a little cover with my stories and...that'll come along in a bit too - blame Skyrim for that one. I'll get on that right away)
Thirdly - like I said before. I will NOT be using any lore elements from Nosgoth in this story. I don't like its lore at all and I couldn't add it even if I wanted to, it would hurt the overall experience of this story. Each and every instalment of this series has been written with "what would Amy Henning do?" in mind. Obviously resurrecting Raziel wasn't one of them but I like to think I tried to match her idealism for the writing. Using Nosgoth's lore would detract from that mission.
But enough for the forewords - on with the show!
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"What is the measure of a man? By what criteria is a soul judged worthy of mere existence? What must one do in order to be dubbed worthwhile? And who would do the dubbing? For eons I thought the answers to such questions were mine, a secure and reassuring knowledge and certainty. Now I wonder how I could ever have been so hopelessly naive. I am adrift with no port, no safe harbour. I find that of all the questions burning my aged soul, one flames brightest.
Which drives me; Duty or Faith?"
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Legacy of Kain: INSURRECTION
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The sky was near pitch black, impenetrable as night itself but far less gentle. The clouds were nearly all smog, rising from the fires of war which raged across the land from one end of Nosgoth to the other. These fires burned near perpetually, fed by the bodies of the fallen which fell or were even cast into them. Hungry for more, the fires burned on, awaiting the carnage to bring them their next eagerly awaited meal.
Staring out to the far east from the terrace of the Citadel, Ba'al Zebur could not even see the sun rising. There was perhaps a brighter spot in that general direction, but it was lost amongst the light from the fires raging to the north where the attack was pressed on the Hylden defences in the mountains. The gloom was so impenetrable that it was impossible to see anything in detail at a distance. Placing both hands on the marble banister before him, his talons tense across the smooth surface, he sighed audibly.
Like all of his kind, Ba'al's skin was a dull blue and his eyes were a bright yellow, nearly gold in colour. He had talons instead of fingers and toes on his hands and feet and out from his back sprouted the large, black feathered wings which gave his race the advantage in the war they raged with their enemies. But he was marked with the signs of both age and too many cares, his hair grey and his feathers becoming dull and frayed around the edges. His hair was tied back and he had a short cropped beard over his chin.
He wore a red toga-like garment open at the back to allow his wings the best freedom of movement, tied around his waist with a sash of white silk into which elaborate patterns had been stitched with golden and silver thread. Around his neck he wore the symbol of his office, a medallion of platinum onto which was engraved the ancient symbol for Balance - the axis of all things.
He was Ba'al Zebur, the Lord on High and ruler of the Vampire race, commander of their legions of flying warriors and guide to his people. But here, right now, it was clear that he felt his authority lacking where it was most sorely needed.
"It's hard to believe, isn't it"? He asked of his companion after a moment; a figure standing behind him in the shelter of the archway into the chambers of the High Circle.
"What is?" His companion asked, coming forward with his arms folded inside the sleeves of his white, almost ecclesiastical robe. His garment was simpler then the bright colours worn by his ruler. While he was fortunate and privileged enough to be called a friend by his lord, he himself was not of high station. He was one of the priests of the Temple of the Oracle and this required him to dress in the garb common to this caste.
He was somewhat taller than Ba'al with hair tied back long behind his head. His features were certainly tighter than his ruler's with higher cheekbones.
"How long this struggle has been going on." Ba'al clarified, gesturing with one hand out toward the fierce glow of the fires. From here it looked almost as if the mountains were the crux of some colossal forge being heated from below; outlined in red, yellow, and gold. The occasional rupture of flame almost seemed like the blow of a hammer from some titanic blacksmith. "Over a thousand years according to the Chroniclers. A millennium of war."
His face set into grim lines, the Lord on High turned his back on the sight and his wings spread out wide in one sudden flourish to clear from his shoulders the thin covering of soot which had fallen onto him during that time. "There are generations of Humans who have grown up not knowing anything but this struggle." He continued in flat apathy and weariness. "For them it's a fact of life, like the rising and setting of the sun each day. They would find the absence of the carnage more upsetting than its presence." His companion did not seem concerned about the seemingly defeatist and clearly jaded attitude of his ruler. He had heard such sentiment before.
"It is the long holy struggle against those who do not accept the cosmic order." He replied simply and with quiet conviction. "The divine call of God Himself." Ba'al half turned at this and gave his old friend a look. It was certainly a sad one but with a twist of wry amusement, his lip turned up on the left-hand side of his face.
"It would have to be." He said sardonically. "To spend a millennium in war otherwise could only be called utter madness." Then he walked past his companion and into the vaulted marble and basalt corridor beyond, leaving behind the gloom of the outside for the halls of the Citadel lit by the bright glow of eldritch energy captured within the hearts of receptive gemstones and set into niches on the wall.
Trailing along behind him, Ba'al's companion frowned at the body language of his ruler. While it was no secret Ba'al was not as firm in his religious convictions as many others and had become disheartened at the cost of the holy war, it was unlike him to be so physically worn down. He looked for all the world like a man who has just walked five hundred miles and was faced with the prospect of walking five hundred more.
"My lord, take solace in the fact that if your plan succeeds, the war will be over." He said as consolingly as possible, stepping forward quickly to walk beside his ruler. At this remark, Ba'al came to a sudden halt and gave him an incredulous and astonished look.
"Over?" The Lord on High repeated, clearly perplexed. Seeing that his companion did not understand what was so astonishing, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, my friend, I wish I could pretend that was true." He ran one hand over his face and then began down along the hallway once more. "The war might be postponed for centuries, but over? Hardly." He added, his voice echoing down the expanse towards the chamber into which he strode. Frowning now in real confusion, for this was the first he had heard of such sentiments, his companion followed quickly.
"My lord, I am afraid I do not understand." He admitted.
The chamber into which they strode was a large, round space. On the curving walls murals depicting both the history of their people and the chronicled exploits of various Divus saints had been delicately and painstakingly constructed in bright colours. Set in the centre of the chamber was a large, round stone table with nine large stone seats set in a ring around it.
Standing by the table was another of their race. He was taller than either of them with massive, powerfully built shoulders and upper back into his wing muscles. With so much bulging muscle he looked very much like he could rip a man down the middle with his bare hands. Oddly, he had a large black moustache running down either side of his chin. Facial hair, while not uncommon in Vampires, was often kept small or close cropped. But this one wore his larger facial adornment with fierce and even challenging pride, as if daring anyone to make an issue of his divergence from tradition.
He wore a simple toga of white but over this he had steel armour shielding his right arm and hand. It looked less like it was for protection and more for reinforcement. There were burn marks, old and new, over his torso in many places which showed he was a smith. There was no doubt that he was Serioli - one of the heretic army, apostates who did not acknowledge the authority of the true God but whose skill with elemental forging were simply too necessary for the war effort to be done away with. So long as they did not voice their heretical scepticism openly, then their presence amongst the ranks of the faithful was tolerated.
"You wouldn't understand. Certainly not yet." Ba'al said, walking directly towards their visitor with sudden purpose. Without a word of greeting the Serioli smith stepped aside and revealed a large set of manuscripts laid out on the table. The designs upon them, nine lancing shafts and the base that connected them to the earth and sky were laid out in meticulous detail. Even on parchment there was something undeniably implacable about those pillars, their mere image radiating a sense of awe-inspiring power.
"The Pillars certainly seem an impressive concept..." The Lord on High continued solemnly as he gazed over them, tracing the outline of the central shaft with one talon. "...but ultimately this set... They're just a means of buying time." Looking at the designs along with him, his companion let his gaze wander across the markers down the sides of the diagrams denoting how each Pillar functioned and their role in maintaining the whole. It was a complex, arcane construction that went far beyond his understanding. But he knew enough to appreciate the mastery of power and magic that went into the mere thought process.
"Buying time until what?" He asked instead. Ba'al's face suddenly broke into a wide grin, giving him an almost boyish look.
"Would you believe me if I said I wasn't entirely certain?" His companion's face did not change expression even slightly.
"No." He said.
The simple reply made the Lord on High burst out laughing. Placing both hands on the table he took a moment to recover from his mirth.
"Your confidence in my omnipotence is quite touching." He said and for the first time today he sounded actually happy. Fondly he patted his friend's shoulder "I envy your childlike view of the world, Janos. It must be touching to view the world in black and white." Then he blinked and clicked his talons.
"Although that reminds me." He said and now he looked really pleased. "I heard your consort has journeyed to the rookery. I hope congratulations aren't premature."
