driftfleet | Sixth Blight

Entry tags:

Sixth Blight - video

Who: Riona and you!
Broadcast: Yus
Action: On the Blue Fish, if you'd like!
When: Now?

[There's the distinct sound of a canine sniffing nearby when the feed turns on. Anyone with an acute ear may also hear a different kind of sound, something akin to snuffling. The animal causing it is revealed a moment later. To those not from Thedas, it looks like a pink, hairless mole. But any Thedosian would know that it's a nug.

The camera pans over to Riona, who's feeding said nug while Kiter cautiously sniffs at the other animal. She shakes her head.]

A favor for a favor, I suppose. Sister Nightingale has fallen into one of those comas. For the time being, Schmooples here is in my care. If you were expecting to see her in the interfaith center, I'm afraid it'll have to wait. [She looks over at her puppy, smiling conspiratorially.] You and I will be brainstorming what to draw on her face. Tit for tat, too.

[When she looks back at the camera, her smile falters, and pronounced concern sets in its place.]

Also, Dr. Beverly Crusher seems to be missing. Normally I'd suspect she's gone home, but her things are still here and her name still shows up on the communication device. Something is amiss. If anyone has seen her the past few days, please do let me or any of the crew on the Blue Fish know.

[Her disappearance puzzles her, along with her obvious worry. It's not like Beverly to do that, and with them having left the planet, there are only so many places she could be.]

Those matters aside, we've now returned to the dull void of space and to confinement in our ships until we make land again. There's only so much to entertain in the fleet, especially when you've been here awhile. Recently, I returned home for a few months. Here only a handful of days passed, but it felt much longer. I find myself feeling a bit homesick. So, I have a request.

[She pauses, uncertainty flitting across her face. For a moment she glances down, and finds herself fiddling with her wedding ring, which she's recently gone back to wearing on her hand. She clasps her hands together and looks back at the camera.]

But first, I suppose I should introduce myself to those who don't know me. My name is Riona Cousland [And here there's the slightest pause, a moment of hesitation. She swallows the trepidation back.] Theirin. I've been here nearly eight months.

[Whatever caused her hesitation seems to have passed. She relaxes, and continues:]

In my time, I've heard quite a few things about people's worlds. Comparing them to Thedas - where I am from - always interests me. I love hearing stories, and I'm always happy to share ones from my world, in particular the ones of my home country.

So. Let's do an exchange. A tale for a tale. It can be anything you experienced, or perhaps a legend or fable from your world that you're fond of. And I will tell you one in return. Simple enough, and a good way to pass the evening, no?

[She smiles, wiggling her fingers in good-bye before shutting off the feed.]

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[ There's a long, quiet pause before Lauralae speaks, leaning forward so her hair isn't in her face quite so much. ]

Perhaps a tale about the Gods?

If you would like! I'd be very interested in hearing about your gods.

[ Nodding, she speaks quietly; ]

There is a story of Phaera, the Mother of all Gods. It is said that once she fell in love with a mortal, despite her marriage to Majorica and Furag, for she is long-lived and the mother of all creatures in Alvanja. Her heart is great enough to love many, and she gave her devotion to another, a gentle creature that has lost it's name in time. It is said that there was a war and the woman she loved was at the forefront of battle, a Cleric Priestess that called upon Phaera's name for power and blessing, but Phaera is not the master of warfare, only of live. She can give it, but she cannot take it, and she does not play idle games in mortal affairs; she leaves that task to her spouse, Majorica.

[ Lifting a shoulder, Lauralae shakes her head. ]

The woman died in the battle, and Phaera came to her side on the boundaries between life and death, for only the Mother of all things can bring those that have died back from the brink. She restored her love, but was spurned for it - the woman turned away from Phaera and abandoned her faith and devotion in the Gods. Phaera lost her heart, and Furag and Majorica came to her side, but she had been burned. It was a reminder of the cruelty of humanity.

[...well that was depressing. Riona realizes that maybe she should have prefaced with "nothing terribly heartbreaking", but it's too late now.]

A tragedy to be sure. One would think the woman would be grateful to Phaera, though perhaps there is more to her anger. [It reminds her a little of the story of Andraste, though there are considerable differences.] Did Phaera ever recover from such heartbreak?

Perhaps she was angry that she misunderstood the nature of Gods. They cannot play idly in mortal affairs, not even for those that they love. It is not possible for them to show such favour. Gifts of bounty to their priests? Blessings to those that pray? Perhaps. But they cannot change the tide of the world for eternity.

[ Lauralae pauses, considering, before she nods her head. ]

Gods are old beings. They have centuries to rebuild their hearts.

[Cannot play idly in mortal affairs. Is that how it is with all gods? Is that why the Maker was silent? She purses her lips; it is something to consider for another time.]

As I would hope. A mortal can heal from such heartbreak, so I would see no reason a god could not. But there's a strange comfort in knowing that even love can make a god do something rash.

[She chuckles.]

The god many in my world believe in - the Maker - also loved a mortal once. It did not end terribly well. But I can tell you that story in exchange, if you'd like.

Gods feel things far deeper than mere mortals. The cuts hurt more, and ache for decades longer - but they have more time to ease their pains. Mortals must make do with their time and what has been given to them.

[ Lauralae shakes her head before she leans forward. ]

I would be glad to hear it.

Perhaps even centuries if the Maker is anything to go by.

[And speaking of-]

In a small village by the sea, over a thousand years ago, a girl of a powerful Alamarri chieftain was born. Her name was Andraste. It was said that she had a beautiful voice, and was haunted by visions for much of her life, ones she did not understand for a long time.

At the time of her life, the Tevinter Imperium was at its peak. It began to encroach on Alamarri lands, conquering and enslaving as it pushed its way further into Thedas. Shortly after Andraste married another powerful Alamarri warlord called Maferath, she and her father were attacked by Imperium raiders. He died and she was enslaved. Eventually she was rescued, but in her heart she suffered. She sang to the Alamarri gods of the wind and mountain, hoping to hear some answer as to why her people suffered so under the Imperium's heel. They did not answer. But one day, something else did.

Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken
There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call.
"Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,
An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown.
You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr.
Within My creation, none are alone."

[It's one of the verses that stuck with her during her childhood, when she learned the Chant like all Andrastians did.]

The Maker answered her. He explained to her that the last of his children had turned from him and forgotten him. He offered her a place at His side in Heaven, but Andraste begged him to give mortals another chance. Through her, she said, she would spread his light and the truth. He agreed, and after that encounter, Andraste dedicated herself to spreading the word of the Maker.

The Maker... A very apt name for a singular God.

[ Lauralae frowns, considering. ]

Is he the only God in your world? Did Andraste go to him, in the end?

He is, according to any Andrastian. But the dwarves believe in the Stone, and many elves - particularly the Dalish - believe in their own gods.

[She nods.]

The word of the Maker flew in the face of Tevinter's way of life. The Imperium believed in the Old Gods, powerful dragons that they had worshiped for centuries. Between that and their enslavement of many of Andraste's people, they became enemies. Tevinter became a symbol of everything wrong with the world at the time: abused power, magic used for nefarious means, slavery, suffering and war. With the Maker on her side, Andraste rallied the tribes and they marched through Thedas, intent on toppling the Imperium and its false gods. She spread the Chant of Light as she went, and many joined her, including the elves, who had been enslaved ever since the Imperium destroyed their empire centuries earlier.

Thus began the first Exalted March. Andraste gained many followers, while her husband led their ever-growing army. They clashed often against Imperium forces, with surprising victories. In those years, Tevinter suffered terrible floods, landslides, and a number of other catastrophes. Andraste's march seemed ordained, and fueled the growing unrest amongst the Imperium's people.

[She takes a breath before adding:]

She seemed poised to win, and they neared Minrathous, the capital of the Imperium. But she never got to march to the city's gates, as she was betrayed.

It seems odd, for there to be so many religions. Is there no proof of a singular one? No evidence that says one is true and the others are not?

[ Lauralae considers, listening, before she bows her head and resists the urge to turn herself away. ]

She was betrayed by who?

No, not truly. They're all based on faith, in what we believe in the stories passed down.

[And now comes the painful part of the story.]

By her husband, Maferath. It's said he was jealous of Andraste and her bond with the Maker, of the way that she was loved by so many and he was ignored.

[She remembered encountering his "spirit" in the Gauntlet. "What is a mortal man compared to a god?"] Personally, I think there's a little more to it than that. Historians believed that, despite Andraste's successes, her army was overextending its reach, and that there was no feasible way for them to lay siege to the capital. They were doomed to fail. Whatever his reasons, he plotted with Archon Hessarian, the ruler of the Imperium in secret. His children and men would be spared in exchange for Andraste's life.

Maferath tricked her and she came to a supposed gathering. Waiting for her were Imperium forces, and she was captured. They brought her to Minrathous, where she was to be executed. They tied her to a pyre, and in front of her army and the people of the city, they set it aflame. Archon Hessarian looked upon her on the pyre, and guilt and pity overtook him. Out of mercy, he strode up and ran her through with his sword, giving her a quick death. And thus she died.

The Maker turned away from mortals that day, and he has been silent ever since.

Betrayal from a human. It is no surprise.

[ Lauralae frowns, considering for a moment, before she tilts her head up, looking back through at the camera. ]

The Maker was cruel to do that. Humanity is fickle and quick to change - he should have known. He should not have turned from them and left them to be alone.

It was not the first time he did. Years before Andraste's time, it's said that seven magisters - powerful mages of the Imperium - broke into the Fade. It's the realm of spirits, and is not meant for the living to go into physically, as they did. In the heart of the Fade was the Golden City, seat of the Maker. They entered this place, and their presence corrupted it. For their pride, he cast them out and tainted them. They became the first darkspawn, and started the first Blight.

It nearly wiped out Thedas, and it crippled the Imperium. So perhaps it was cruel of the Maker... but we had wronged him before.

They continue to push at the realm of their God. It is no wonder he shames them so.

[ Lauralae turns her head away, frowning. ]

The Gods should be respected and loved. Not treated as ill omens.

He is loved and respected.... but also feared. And many if He hasn't turned his back on us for good, and we're all but abandoned.

He is much like a true God, then. [ She shakes her head. ] But if he abandons you, and you fall, then the blame lies at his feet. If he is truly a 'Maker' then he should take care of what he has created.

One would think. [That's similar to how she feels about Him, and it feels validating that someone outside of Thedas sees it like that, too.] I understand His anger, but... well, He made mortals the way they are. I sort of wonder what He actually expected to happen. But good luck telling the Chantry that. Many are just as happy as He is to condemn us for past mistakes.

It is a parent raising their children to argue only to become frustrated when they are constantly fighting. [ Lauralae shakes her head, irritated. ] They are all fools. They past cannot be undone and we can only look to the future.

Perhaps He made a mistake. Or several. Maybe we're failures, an idea gone wrong. [Not a pleasant thought.] The Chantry does like to look backwards. When its head isn't stuck up its ass. But its an institution that derives its power from the past and tradition. It still accomplishes a deal of good, but... well, the Chantry's committed its share of atrocities, too.

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Sixth Blight - video

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