The Prophesy of Kotov
The city of Bozji-Hod was the holy seat of power for the High Church of Doeth, and had been for century upon century. It was here that before recorded time, the One God walked upon the earth and bestowed upon mankind the Truth of the World and the Heavens above. The city lay along the coastline, in the northern-most part of the Great Barrens. The city was an oasis of sorts, with fresh water springs and wells supplying the otherwise dry area with enough drinkable water to support a large city.
The venerable age of Bozji-Hod was evident everywhere you looked. The white stone buildings had been built, fallen to ruin, rebuilt, fallen to ruin, and been restored again and again throughout the long march of history. The style of construction belonged to a previous age. Great domes, and pillars, decorated with ornate carvings and silver inlays reflected the light of the desert sun. Some streets were paved with foot-worn white stone, while others were broken white stone covered with hard pressed sand.
There were three kinds of people one would encounter on the streets of Bozji-Hod First there were the Holy Ones. Clergy, monks, nuns, bishops and their attendants, holy scholars, inquisitors, and church officials of all levels of authority. Each had their appropriate vestments on, and their polished badges of office upon their breast.
Secondly, there were the seekers of enlightenment. Pilgrims, petitioners, missionaries, supplicants, and ambassadors from other faiths. And finally, there were those there that made their living serving both the holy occupants and religious visitors to the city. Merchants, innkeepers, blacksmiths, silversmiths, alchemists, herbalists, cooks, traders, and other service workers.
And thus the people, the holy, the mundane, and the financial filled the streets of Bozji-Hod, a busy and thriving city surrounding the Church of the Sveti Koraci, or the Church of the Holy Steps. The grand church and heart of the faith of Doeth, was built upon the spot where the God Doeth himself first manifested to mankind, and walked upon the earth. He left bare footprints in the mud. At the very center of the Church of the Sveti Koraci, inside a gilded glass enclosure of gold and silver, encrusted in diamonds and pearls, Doeth's simple, but divine, footprints in the mud were preserved for all time.
This ornate enclosure was at the center of a main temple room that no other temple on Kempin could rival. Looking at it, it was easy to imagine the nameless army of stone-carvers, gold-smiths, painters, and other artisans, working for generations to build the temple. Even now, its care and maintenance was seen to by a full-time staff of over twenty artisans of various fields. These dedicated caretakers kept the temple looking like its construction had finished just the day before, though its beginnings were lost in the fogs of time.
It is in this Church of the Holy Steps that the High Legate of the Church of Doeth had now gathered the Vidioci. Twenty of the Holy Seers knelt on the white stone floor around the glass enclosure protecting the footprints of their God. These twenty men wore long white gowns. Their heads and faces were cleanshaven, and they were bathed and perfumed with the finest oils and spices. The High Legate, wearing his red vestments and badge of office, led the Vidioci in prayer.
Off to the side and behind the High Legate, stood two figures. One was a tall lithe inselelfen with dark hair, a scarred face, and an eye-patch over his right eye. He wore a black cloak over ornate plate armor. This was Qidoran, loyal confidant to the Red Jackal, Emperor of the Empire of Bone.
Next to Qidoran was a thin figure, heavily swaddled in black robes, a long dark red cloak, and a hood that was up, his face obscured in shadows. This thin sickly looking figure was the Red Jackal, Emperor of Bone, Estoki to the Ogaroth Legions, and the Vysshiy Yeretik and Zashchitnik Boga of the High Church of Doeth.
The prayer concluded, the High Legate turned and approached his emperor. “All is ready, Zashchinik Boga.” The man produced from a pocket in his robes an embroidered pouch, and from this pouch he withdrew a stoppered clear glass bottle. Inside the bottle was a blue powder, of a hue of blue so perfect, as to diminish every hue of blue seen from that moment forward. “The Krrf is of the purest form. Kotov has volunteered to peer inside the mysteries, and complete the prophesies. He is our most promising Vidioci.”
The Red Jackal spoke from the shadows of his dark red hood. “He is aware of what could happen? He is a willing sacrifice should it come to that undesirable end?”
The High Legate turned. “Kotov. You understand what is at risk today? You do this service to your Emperor willingly.”
Kotov stood. He was a handsome young man, with fine features, and dark skin that suggested he had at least some Dun ancestry. Kotov bowed deeply. “I have witnessed the ritual many times, only wishing it was I that was delving the mysteries. Only wishing it was I that took the risk. I am prepared. I will delve deeply. I will reveal the prophesy as a whole…regardless the consequences. I willingly sacrifice all that I have and all that I am for my Emperor.”
Unsteadily, and with seeming great effort, the heavily swaddled Red Jackal made his way across the white stone floor until he stood facing Kotov. Qidoran had advanced with him, ready to catch him should he stumble or collapse. The Red Jackal took hold of Kotov’s shoulders, and pulled him close, whispering in his ear. None but Kotov heard his words. Tears filled the young man’s eyes, and then ran freely down his face. The Red Jackal embraced the young man then, and in a voice all could hear he declared, “May Doeth know your bravery and piety.”
Qidoran led Kotov and the Emperor back to the High Legate. Kotov knelt on the stone floor, facing the footprints of God. He was given the glass bottle of pure Krrf, and he bowed his head in prayer for a moment. Then he brought the bottle slowly to his nose, tipped it back, and let the blue krrf pour into his nostrils. Kotov inhaled deeply, his pupils growing until they turned his hazel irises entirely black. All the tenseness seemed to leave his muscles, and Qidoran laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder to keep him upright.
All was silence in the great white temple. Kotov was on a journey, and none dared make a noise or distract him in any way. Then the words came. The poetry that lay like a plan or diagram behind all time and all things. Kotov’s voice was crisp and precise. Every syllable was enunciated…every word spoke with care and meaning. And those in attendance listened in rapt attention as he revealed the mysteries for all to see.
Filth and Fire the foundations wait,
Tinkerer’s tunnels no terminal end.
Jackal condemned, with cold cunning…
Doomed, he created devices of destruction.
Much ruin resists reaching the Gate.
Mechanized armies made ready to march,
Traps without treasure, teeming with death.
Programmed protection, pride-made and proven
Through gears, and gizmos, and gold guardians,
That how heroes find a hole in the world.
Ordered home of Holy Order,
Land where each life is ruled by Law.
There makes rest, the Mad Sword’s mana.
A soul is sought for synthetic life,
To make the machine something more than made.
The Living must leave life, and seek shadow,
Jaded journey that makes life a jest,
Through valleys they must vie for victory,
Against grave ghouls and ghastly shades,
Getting through to gain the gate of Gellhorn.
Ten stones shining like sterling stars,
Are detained by the dire VanDrunan.
Death dealer, doom lord, and destiny evader!
What gift must be given to gain a boon?
A price to pay, part of one’s passion and soul.
The machine has been gifted mechanical mana,
The stones serve to focus its synthetic soul,
But the luxury of life, real life, is lost,
Unless a spell sunders the structure of real.
Three of Thirteen are need to triumph.
The oldest of the old, owes no one and none.
The Elder watches the world and with wonder waits.
Powerful painter, and maker of precious worlds,
Molene the Sage is caught in his own creation.
Inselelfen elf with the Knowledge of his Kingly Kin.
The Mage of the Winds….
…Winds…wanders the….
…Winds wanders the Wald…..
Kotov seemed to falter. His eyes clenched shut. Blue colored liquid was running from his nose, and the whites of his eyes had taken on a blue tint. His skin was pale, his breathing shallow. He muttered then. “No….it is right there…behind a veil. I can reach it…I can reveal it all. More krrf…more krrf.” Kotov tried to lift the glass bottle to his nose, but the High Legate stopped him with a hand on his arm.
The High Legate looked to his Emperor. “If he takes more krrf he will die horribly. He is a most promising Vidioci…my best remaining Seer.” The words were meant to inform only. It was clear the head of the High Church of Doeth looked to the Vysshiy Yeretik for a decision.
Qidoran spoke quickly. “Moj Voda…this is as far as any Vidioci has ever gotten with the prophesy. This may me our last chance to get it all.”
The Red Jackal attention was focused entirely on Kotov. He took in what Qidoran said, but he gave no orders.
Kotov looked to his Emperor through tearfilled eyes. “I will sacrifice all that I am…I will give everything to reveal this mystery. Let me, my Emperor. I have traveled so far…don’t let me falter now. Give me what I need to finish this for you.”
The Red Jackal simply gave a nod, and gestured with his withered hand that more krrf be administered.
The High Legate took the glass bottle from Kotov, raised it to his nostrils, and let the young man inhale deeply. Kotov took a rattled breath, and then inhaled again, emptying the bottle. The gathered Vidioci kneeling around the footprints of God, audibly gasped, and some uttered quiet prayers.
The whites of Kotov’s eyes were now a brilliant shade of blue. His pupils were a black dot in a blue sea. Blood vessels near the surface of his skin had taken on a brilliant blue shade as well, striking a stark contrast with his pale flesh. Kovov moaned a sorrowful moan, and his eyes closed.
It was as if everyone in the room was holding their breath. They were witnessing the ultimate sacrifice a Vidioci could make. A life given freely for knowledge that should be impossible to know. And then haltingly at first, but with growing confidence, the poetry came again. The meaning behind the real. The mystery hidden behind existence.
…caught…
…caught in his…
…his own creation.
Inselelfen elf …
…elf with the Knowledge of his Kingly Kin.
The Mage of the Winds wanders the Wald of Whispers.
The spell’s success brings the synthetic soul alive,
Now power it lacks, the power to prove providence.
The Heroes must hold the Heart of Lightning.
Beating in their hands, a baneful burst of power.
Crackle, and light, now lightning lives in the machine.
Only the Jackals faith fuels the fire of Oriri Deum,
Both order and disorder will deign to destroy all.
Death will descend, and decay and doom will follow,
For the Jackal will fight, allies both Fair and Foul alike,
Many will perish, but the powers of providence will rise.
PROVIDENCE WILL RISE!
After Kotov screamed these three words, all the muscles in his body seemed to contract at once. His mouth opened and closed, exposing blue-stained teeth. He vomited and began to convulse wildly. Blue liquid ran from his nose and eyes, and the noises he made were something between a grunt and a prolonged scream.
The Red Jackal took a step forward. “How long?”
The High Legate was stooped by the boy, attempting to stop him from hurting himself. “Ten minutes…an hour. It is hard to say. He will linger, burning in living torment until his body gives out, and he finally dies.”
The Red Jackal gestured to Qidoran, and in a single unbroken movent, the inselelfen moved to the boy’s side, drew a black and silver dagger, and slit the young man’s throat from ear to ear. Then for good measure, drove the dagger deep into Kotov’s heart. The convulsing and screaming stopped, and Kotov was silent and still upon the white stone floor, stained with red blood and blue krrf.
The Vidoici were silently kneeling, their head’s bowed, making holy gestures in the air with their hands. The High Legate had his right hand upon Kotov’s forehead, giving him the Prayer of Passing. Qidoran had cleaned and sheathed his blade, and was standing again.
The Red Jackal cleared his throat, and then spoke. “Kotov gave his all that he was so that we could have our prophesy. Rise Vidioci. Gather up your brother. Clean him. Care for him. Prepare him for his final rest.” The Holy Seers rose to their feet, and gathered up their fallen brother.
The Emperor continued. “High Legate. See to it that a portion of this floor is pulled up, and a crypt prepared for brave Kotov. Let him rest here…in this, the holiest of places. Let him rest beside the footprints of your God, so that all may know of his willing sacrifice for his Emperor.”
As the Holy Seers carried away their brother, and the High Legate walked to his altar throne to recover from the events of the day, Qidoran took his Emperor by the elbow and partially supported his weight. “That’s quite enough for the day, Moj Voda. Let me help you to your chambers.”
The Red Jackel let his loyal inselelfen guide him. “Qidoran…we are on the right path. Twenty years of effort…and we are so close. This…this will be my great work. My great disruption. This will be the legacy I leave as a Dark Lord of Kempin.”
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NOTES FROM THE DM:
Church of the Sveti Koraci = Church of the "Holy Steps"
Vidioci = "Holy Seers"
Inselelfen = Elves from the Island of Shimera
Estoki = "Father" in the Ogaroth language
Vysshiy Yeretik = "High Heretic"
Zashchitnik Boga = "Protector of God"
Moj Voda = "My Leader"
Krrf = drug made from a rare blue lily on the Island of Shimera. It is thought it can only be grown on the Island of Shimera, but some suspect that herbalists working for the Red Jackal have been able to cultivate it in the Empire of Bone. Leads to a feeling of serenity or euphoria in small doses. Similar to opium. At higher doses, it is fatal. But, some seers use it to push their abilities beyond what they are normally capable.
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The Prophesy of Kotov as a whole:
Filth and Fire the foundations wait,
Tinkerer’s tunnels no terminal end.
Jackal condemned, with cold cunning…
Doomed, he created devices of destruction.
Much ruin resists reaching the Gate.
Mechanized armies made ready to march,
Traps without treasure, teeming with death.
Programmed protection, pride-made and proven
Through gears, and gizmos, and gold guardians,
That how heroes find a hole in the world.
Ordered home of Holy Order,
Land where each life is ruled by Law.
There makes rest, the Mad Sword’s mana.
A soul is sought for synthetic life,
To make the machine something more than made.
The Living must leave life, and seek shadow,
Jaded journey that makes life a jest,
Through valleys they must vie for victory,
Against grave ghouls and ghastly shades,
Getting through to gain the gate of Gellhorn.
Ten stones shining like sterling stars,
Are detained by the dire VanDrunan.
Death dealer, doom lord, and destiny evader!
What gift must be given to gain a boon?
A price to pay, part of one’s passion and soul.
The machine has been gifted mechanical mana,
The stones serve to focus its synthetic soul,
But the luxury of life, real life, is lost,
Unless a spell sunders the structure of real.
Three of Thirteen are need to triumph.
The oldest of the old, owes no one and none.
The Elder watches the world and with wonder waits.
Powerful painter, and maker of precious worlds,
Molene the Sage is caught in his own creation.
Inselelfen elf with the Knowledge of his Kingly Kin.
The Mage of the Winds wanders the Wald of Whispers.
The spell’s success brings the synthetic soul alive,
Now power it lacks, the power to prove providence.
The Heroes must hold the Heart of Lightning.
Beating in their hands, a baneful burst of power.
Crackle, and light, now lightning lives in the machine.
Only the Jackals faith fuels the fire of Oriri Deum,
Both order and disorder will deign to destroy all.
Death will descend, and decay and doom will follow,
For the Jackal will fight, allies both Fair and Foul alike,
Many will perish, but the powers of providence will rise.
PROVIDENCE WILL RISE!
