The Kitin scriptures
Posted: Fri Aug 31, 2007 6:22 am
Chapter I
We are a myriad minds forming one We are a myriad footsteps, leading in one direction we are the rustle in the night that makes the unworthy tremble, we are the mandibles on which their blood never dries we harness the powers of fire and lightning we are the true rulers of Atys we are the Kitin. Fear us for none can stand in our path Resist us and be eliminated Embrace our rule as you would embrace death willingly The time will come when the many will rise and sweep through the land, cleansing it returning it to its primeval state freeing it from the lethal desease the abominable horde of pests that keep borrowing into the heart of the land, sucking its sap dry, tormenting it, robbing it of its riches the alien invaders will not walk Atys again all of hominkind will be put to far better use will serve a far greater purpose will finally return what they have stolen once their dead bodies decompose and fertilize the soil This will come to pass So say the Many in one the Kitin.
when I first read this I simply couldnt believe my eyes! True, at first I thought its not more than a joke when an old zorai quietly sipping his dandellion wine at the very back of olThesos bar beckoned to me and looked me in the eye silently when I approached, never uttering a word. I thought it intriguing when he bared his forearm and on it there was a hardly visible tattoo a string of zorai symbols. I am always so very proud of having deciphered most of them on my own. Just imagine a matis unraveling those sacred zorai mysteries that the masked people themselves have long considered lost. I sat closer and peered into it. It read: The greatest truth of the greatest enemy is to be found here. Then it gave opaque directions to a certain cave in the deeper prime roots and hinted that the answer was to be found above ones head. I looked the old homin in the eye but the ivory mask did not betray any emotion the dark slits that the blueskins have for eyes remained totally impenetrable. Was he mocking me then? Was that all a test? Or was it a gift that one real adventure of my whole life that I was craving for since first I trod the blessed streets of Yrkanis? He didnt give me any time to think of it then he slowly rose and walked out mysterious and dignified. I smiled then, dismissing this accident and addressing some other immediate concerns, but the thought crept away to the backstreets of my mind and kept gnawing there relentlessly like a worm, until I just couldnt stand it any longer.
It must be in our blood. We, Matis simply cant allow something to remain out of reach, out of control. A craft we cant excel, a knowledge we cant grasp, a beauty we cant enjoy we will lose sleep we will think of little else until the goal is reached and or inner peace restored. The fyros and even some trykers call us control freaks and I agree thats partly true. But is it a curse, or an advantage over everyone else, who will judge? I guess that racial trait was the main driving force behind my decision to give it a try one day. I donned my favorite extra dodge tryker MA, took my best amps, my sword and dagger, packed the traveling necessities in my mounts saddle bags and set off
I have never been a great fighter the poets will never compose ballads and songs about me. I didnt crush enemies at Outpost battles, I didnt nuke their protective jewelry away, though I can proudly say I have never missed a good fight when I was able either. I was a healer a backup for my friends and family and my heart always leaped with joy to see them charge into battle and I have always seen it as the most vital of tasks to keep their sap and stamina high, to help them up once they were stricken down to give others life until my own dying breath. But when you venture into those realms where the sun doesnt shine, when you pass through the deepest bowels of Atys be you a champion of karavan or even a hero of the nation you simply wont last longer then a couple heartbeats if you dont possess stealth, speed, cunning and above all the knowledge of that wondrous place they call prime roots. A place where you cant win by fighting, a place where you hug the walls as if they were your dearest kin a place where danger lurks everywhere and where the true enemy lives The many-in-one as they call themselves The Kitin
(to be continued...)