| Forums: Index → Fan Fiction → Lore:Reformed Faith | 
|
Reformed Faith is a Lore book added to Episode: Echoes as part of the Expedition, serving as the initial biography of Skira before her elevation to Discipleship. Each page is found from defeating final bosses, completing unique encounters and vanquishing Prime Nemeses.
—Fellowship—
Folly. Freedom. Fellowship.
This is my testament of providence.
I am Skira. Only surviving daughter of my line. My parents opposed those blasphemous warriors of the Polyphony and thus met their end. My brothers and sisters all killed before they could draw breath. For decades, I eked a miserable life on the streets of Thruhist. I was a wretch until I found the ancient creeds of Slyuvi. It was there I found purpose. It was there I found the true faith. It was there I truly learned of the poisonous words of the Polyphony. And it is here where our legacy begins, for better or for worse. May Slyuvi have mercy on our souls, come what may.
What is folly but foolishness and misplaced faith? Once, the Polyphony was our greatest savior, born from the ashes of our once grand civilization. Back when the thirteen moons bore a pale white cousin, we were a prosperous civilization, ever worshipping the strange, celestial visitor as a god, ever singing songs to its glory and mercy until it vanished without trace, bringing fear and distrust between our ancestors, bestowing upon each other nuclear hellfire in response, engulfing peace and advancement in incinerating fire. When we came out from hiding, those still faithful to the words of our ancient kings and queens, the Polyphony thus emerge from those who preached with sonorous, resonant song. For a time, it was all well-meaning until its leadership became full with the corrupt and slothful, now seeking reward for what they do, as the singers cleanse blighted lands not for the good of the world, but for the wealth of others. Folly. Deeds of blasphemers and traitors. All of it!
Slyuvi, our truest and most faithful god-king, demands recompense. Weakness and pride must be supplanted by competence and strength. Thus is decreed by the ancient god-king of justice. There MUST be justice for the outcast and downtrodden. Freedom must find its heralds. Thankfully, I was found by a truly just and noble warrior befitting of such a divine duty. He was Kaas-thrys, a former nobleman, disgruntled and scornful of his peers' ambivalence and weakness, possessed of a warriors spirit and born of conviction and desire. But he wasn't the only one. Indeed, he was followed by many, all seeking change in a dying, broken kingdom. Court Sorceress Nikhra, Threshold Huntress Ikaria, Exiled General Varhyn, Astrologist Sethiir and so many more. All of us saw the Polyphony for what it truly was and did the right thing – the only thing – that had to be done. Freedom. Now that we were free from our chains, we had a cause that united us; we sought the downfall of the Polyphony and freedom and prosperity for all.
To think that they would bring in a former criminal turned divine anchorite into their ranks. Folly? Perhaps. But maybe there is purpose to bondage after all. Perhaps they need a new voice, or preacher to further unit people. No. They need me for faith. Indeed. I, too, will be given power. An example of a pariah becoming as a god! To think of the people seeing such an example and being emboldened to do great things! No longer bound by castes and corruption, but now agents of their own will, to be driven to do great things. Now bound to each other as they are to a truly benevolent king. Now that is an ideal world. A world befitting of my god-king's vision, where excellence isn't inherited, but earned. My faith shall be rewarded, as shall all who follow in our divine footsteps. May all be blessed by fellowship. May our fellowship bear fruits of freedom and prosperity.
May this be remembered in sonorous song. May my legend be told as we reclaim our ancestral lands. May Slyuvi judge us worthy.
—Turmoil—
Black soil. King's foil. Turmoil.
This is my testament of rebellion.
Our pact is sealed. We have our duty. Our charge. We all have made peace with whatever fate awaits us, and made preparations for if we do succeed. And if we are to upend this decrepit leadership that squanders the might and strength of our people, then we are to embark on a journey across the blighted lands in search of people to join our ranks and overthrow our subjugators and tyrants. This is to be a journey filled with peril, doubtlessly. Of that we knew. Radiation and foul beasts filled these wastes, but we had no choice. Alone, we could never stand a chance, and so, we swept up whoever we could into our ranks.
Across ashen lands, burned by weapons of old, did we trudge and power through. We had our eyes set upon the distant villages of Draemiil and Rashkyn, where we have heard manifold resistance groups had grown, ready to strike and bring low the Polyphony. At first, all were bold and ready to traverse these desolate realms. How quick, however, was it for that enthusiasm to vanish. Nekh-li was devoured by a Dust Serpent within the first few days of travel, and all that remained was a panicked husk by the time we could cut him out from the stomach of the foul beast. Thrunist fell into a radioactive hotspot and succumbed to radiation poisoning shortly after, despite me and Nikhra's best efforts to purge it. So many more fell in our journey, and all we could curse was the black soil in which we tread. The damned, accursed black soil. No wonder these lands must be cleansed with united song.
I am a faithful adherent of Slyuvi, I am a streets survivor and I have killed when necessary, despite the shame of it all. And yet, I am no true warrior. I am only armed with a knife that has been my keepsake since I could walk the streets and my channeling bell for purifying song, prayer and Magickal power. Yet I am no blademaster or warrior worthy of knighthood. Yet, our would-be charge, our king, our Kaas-thrys, offered me a chance to become an able combatant. I was honored. I was grateful. I was indebted, as we both knew that it was going to be necessary going down the line. When asked what weapon I think would work best for me after showing me our convoy's supply, I took up my god-king's weapon, one befitting of a beacon and exemplar of justice, a battle-axe. As we traversed the vast desolate lands, we trained, honorably and slowly by night. By trial and circumstance by day. I had come to learn of the nuance and discipline of battle, come to respect the beauty of the blade's edge.
Oddly enough, it was only after all this benevolent training by Kaas-thrys did I begin to realize him for who he was, seeing all his wondrous accomplishments around me, as he uplifted broken, despondent spirits as we crossed the desert. I saw the eyes of our people fill with inspiration, drive and power as they looked up to our princely lord. Night after night, we would gather around him and hear of his story filled with disgust for his colleagues, hear of what horrors he saw, hear of the promises he would fulfill as king and hear of what he will offer us, our closest, most capable servants. I saw this once-governor for the Polyphony become something his former peers could never be, a worthy ruler of a vast kingdom; a king that will bring prosperity and peace to this broken world. Our old king could never. The senile, old and slothful fool was a puppet to his subordinate lords as they gorged upon the spoils of the downtrodden, using their singers to carve away corrupt lands only for themselves. Kaas-thrys, however, has a vision that will take our people to newer heights. Never again shall we be ruled by the prideful few, but a driven, strong, young example, one with blade in hand and allies that will bring rebirth to a kingdom with his entourage. For we now have a worthy king's foil.
Long ago, Slyuvi challenged an ancient god to a duel to the death, in which he beheaded the bloated god and took his power, becoming both king of all Kshiri people and joining the divine pantheon as god of blood and justice. I admittedly do not know the faith long enough, but even I can see the true message behind this. Change must be made through adversity. It is the only and just way to do it. Change without turmoil is imperfect change, and so, whether through fiery words or blood, it must come through some sort of challenge. Thus it was for the last week. After months of perilous travel, months of physical loss, months of mental and faithful gain, months of me perfecting my martial technique thanks to our king, we had made it to Rashkyn. At first we had thought to hide out and start to bolster our numbers in the shadows, as was the wisest and safest course of action. As if to show foolish strength, or perhaps even divine right, Kaas-thrys entered the town square and started to rouse and rile a crowd to his side. It had only taken a few words before the town was already in an uproar. Rebels, disgruntled and new, flocked to our sides as we took to the streets and slaughtered the Polyphony's wild dogs. Kaas-thryn, Varhyn and Ikaria carved a bloody swathe by their blades, as has Nikhra's and Sethiir's with their psionics, no doubt, yet all I can think about is what I did. Not out of selfishness, of course, I can't see through the eyes of my peers – I am not my god-king. Yet, I am transfixed by the glories of my blade and power. Not only was my technique with the axe getting better than I had remembered from days before, even after exhaustion from travel, but I also found what power I unleashed from my bell stronger than I had ever dreamed of. I only wished to stun one of those dogs with a jolt of Arc, only to find myself piercing the bastard with a bolt of lightning with enough strength, it seemed as if Fulana herself threw it. Turmoil, huh. Turmoil is, indeed, the perfect catalyst of change after all.
We had won at great cost. Our charge was criticized for such rashness by some of our confidants, particularly General Varhyn and Sorceress Nikhra. Yet we had earned victory, and despite the losses, our ranks swelled nearly ten times our original size. Though we have mainly peasants and farmers to fill them, the ranks of veterans and the leadership of our disciplined leaders can easily train them to overtake even the Polyphony's Song-Knights. After all, I had made a name for myself, me! A former street whelp, then faithful practitioner of faith, now warrior garnering looks and respect from among what soldiery we have. To think one can reach some great heights. Truly am I blessed to be in such good company and blessed am I to be armed with such newfound power. When we become as kings and queens, perhaps I will be given the power I have long coveted since my time on the streets. Perhaps, I will have more followers of our divine god-king. Or perhaps, a new faith shall emerge, with a new god-king at its center. Only time will tell, as our numbers only grow further and loyalties among the Polyphony's ranks falter and fade.
May our deeds be forever remembered in resonant song. May we all ascend to rightful lordship and those we usurp forever be cast to bones and ruin. May Slyuvi judge us worthy.
—Coronation—
Illusion. Execution. Coronation.
This is my testament of power.
—Acceptance—
Repentance. Permanence. Acceptance.
This is my testament of inquisition.
—Scorn—
Skirmish. Squandering. Scorn.
This is my testament of revilement.
—IGNORANCE—
Repentance. Permanence. IGNORANCE.
This is a testament of my PERFECT HATRED.
—Pathway—
Prospect. Perfidy. Pathway.
This is my testament of renewed faith.
—Cloak—
Smoke. Choke. Cloak.
This is my testament of treachery.
—Divinity—
Sanctity. Affinity. Divinity.
This is my testament of iconoclasm.
—Silence—
Sedition. Swiftness. Silence.
This is my testament of regicide.
—SALVATION—
Station. Supplication. SALVATION.
This is a testament to my DESERVED ASCENSION.
—Deserving—
Destruction. Defilement. Deserving.
This is my testament to rebellion.
—Chains—
Grains. Refrains. Chains.
This is my testament to conviction.
—Ruination—
Resonation. Realization. Ruination.
This is my testament to vanquished doubts.