(OOC Note: I wrote this last night, and being a professional writer to some degree (though not in this particular genre of writing) I always enjoy feedback to my work. I hope you all enjoy.)
The Reignes Legacy
The Message: It began much like these mundane stories usually do begin… once upon a time… floating in an endless sea of emptiness, suspended by a force that can neither be described as natural or supernatural, the embodiment of a thing so powerful and so vast that its potential alone could swallow a universe lingered – that is, if it had ever existed at all.
A unimaginative nothingness indeed, it could be called. A thing described in heavy-hearten words as if the text on a scroll could leap off its medium and spread like wildfire upon a plateau of dry straw until it left a scolding mark upon anyone or anything it came into contact with. A mark burned so deeply that it might shift the mortal to become immortal, burning so deeply that it could alter the tides of time itself! A mark seared so intently into the existence of all things that it brings a definitive meaning to the idea of supernatural. A thing that would burn with so much light, that even the cosmos, nay, even the ETHER would bow to its unrelenting path of glory. An entity, a thing, a nothing, all of these words and more, the very fabric of a constant so intently demanding that it is always within one’s reach, but never within one’s grasp.
That is…
…if it had ever existed at all.
I am The Narrator, and this is the story of that thing, that nothing, that has come to be coined by literature as… Liberty.
What if I told you that everything in your life is predicated on an illusion? Would you be angry? Would you dare deny it? Even more, what if I told you that the illusion your life is predicated on is domineeringly cast, endorsed, and continued by your own free will? Would you be angry? Would you dare deny it still? Even more still, what if I told you that the very creature who created this illusion, the very thing that conjured this madness into reality, was the same exact thing that stared back at you in your reflection?
Would you be angry?
Would you, COULD you deny it?
What if I told you that the coin in your pocket, the desires in your heart, the hopes of your wildest imagination, your deities, your trust, your virtues, your religions, your ENTIRE sense of SELF – All of these thing are simple by-products predicated on an illusion that you have created for yourself since the violent wails of your infancy when your mother brought you screaming into the world?
Of course you would be angry.
Of course you would deny it.
Even now as the idea trickles across your consciousness, your brain has already begun deciphering the meaning of such a thing, firing off synapses that engage the reasoning and beckon you to vehemently disagree. What if I told you… That the very logic you are conjuring now to riposte my argument is a predicted outcome from this same illusion you have created? Even now, even in your most repentant behavior, even when you yearn to cry out about your own free-will, even when you feel like you are MOST in control of your thoughts and actions… even now, the illusion has already determined your feelings on the matter.
What is this illusion? How is it defined? Under what predetermination could you capture it, and thereby understand it?
It is the illusion of your own significance. It is the very idea that you have conjured up to make you feel as if you are unique to all other things. That somehow, you, a small iota in the fabric of existence has a place to stand in the bulwark of a reality. More than that, it is the very thing that you have created to blind you of your actuality. It is the hallmark of your endeavors. It is the EXACT reason that you seek to obtain a power you can NEVER achieve. WORSE than that, it is the exact reason that such a powerful thing like liberty can never, ever exist.
Alas, it is for that exact reason that the Reignes Legacy has came to be, and will be to come.
The Story: Cambridge Reignes was born into an infinitely wealthy family in a land called Camelot on the day of Tyr, long before the days described in the Arthurian era. The realm of Camelot was inhabited by a multitude of races, ranging from Elves to Halflings, and orcs to ogres. It was a beautiful era of stereotypes. It was a time that magic was prescribed by the tongue of elves, and extended from the power of one’s soul. Anyone with access to the Elvish language could also have attachment to the Ether. Dwarves were just as cliché as one might recall, dwelling in mines or inns, chugging back ale, and crafting fine instruments from metallurgy. It was a time that the Gods of Virtue could walk upon the surfaces of nature without attracting unwanted attention, where their power was respected by admiration, more than by fear.
However, like all great stories, it was a time that was doomed to end, in the most abysmal fashion possible.
As a young child, Cambridge was endowed with every possible advantage wealth and power could bring along with it. He was taught by only the most prestigious of philosophers, and trained in combat by the realms greatest military minds and swordsman. In his studies, Cambridge would begin to understand the true nature and purpose of mortality, and live his life based on a simple code, which would become the hallmark principle for his legacy:
“What can be done, and what cannot be done.”
By the time he was a teenager, Cambridge would have so much influence that the mere utterance of his commands would turn armies from besieged gates. Cambridge had what any man of his realm could ever dream to have. Oh yes, he even had love. After all, what would any great story be without love? Her name was Shiri O’Canon. She was a Paladin of Justice, sworn by oath to the God of Justice himself, Tyr. Her natural beauty was rivaled only by her ferocity in battle. Cambridge, wise a man as he was taught to be, would become mesmerized by her devotion to justice and the kindness of her skin.
Remember when I told you it was an age of stereotypes? Well, this was never more evident than the first antagonist of our story: the Prince of Lies, the Black Sun, the God of Strife… Cyric. Cyric, like Cyric is known to do, created a rift in our utopia by attracting followers to his cause through deception. With the promise of riches and power, he manipulated the greed of men and brought them to his alter of worship.
Cambridge would be called on to lead the crusade against the rising tyrant, and resist his dark armies. In the struggles to come, he would keep a journal which would pass to his son upon birth. The journal was written in ancient elvish, with an overlaying incantation only allowing it to be read by those of his own line. In it’s texts, he would articulate his own philosophy describing the illusions of existence, that he had become aware of, but was inescapably dominated by. There were seven in total.
1.) The Illusion of Trust
2.) The Illusion of Selflessness
3.) The Illusion of Commodity
4.) The Illusion of Objectivity
5.) The Illusion of Equality
6.) The Illusion of Hope
7.) The Illusion of Significance
A war would rage, and in the midst of this holy war, a battle would take place at the haven of atrocity, Zhentil Keep. It would be this battle that Cambridge would lose his life, and Cyric would win the day. After being bestowed with the long-sword forged by Gond himself, titled Cyric’s Bane, Cambridge would meet the tyrannical deity on the field of battle. With victory within grasp, the God of Justice would swoop from the heavens and interfere, fearing that a mortal should never have such power over the supernatural realm. Cambridge would die with the Spear of Justice buried in his back, under the grief-stricken gaze of his lover, Shiri. Tyr would then retreat from the field, content that justice would be better served for mortals to live in despotism beneath Cyric then come to not fear the power of Gods.
Shiri would birth Cambridge’s child months later, naming him Jonathan. After the birth, Shiri would begin taking steps towards realizing Cambridge’s vengeance. Over the course of two decades, using her fallen lovers influence, she amassed an army composed of Dragon-Riders, Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Mages, and Giants. Anything and everything that could be in existence and serve her will was called into action. Helping to repair broken relationships, all species of the realm were united by a common goal: Freeing themselves from Cyric. In this process, she would also accumulate the Remnants of Creation. The Remnants of Creation were the instruments that held time and space in place for the realm of Camelot, with only the theory of a great Timelord to explain how they had come to be. After acquiring all seven pieces, she compiled The Catalyst (an item created when combining the seven remnants) and used it to open up a moongate to the Throne Room of the Heavens.
Jonathan had come to be an extremely gifted warrior. Moving with the grace of an elf, and the brute force of a cyclops. He had received his fathers journal, and read it over and over, reciting it out loud as if a prayer in the exact language it was written as he added his own philosophy to it on the final page. When the moongate opened to the Heavens, he marched alongside his mother as her armies poured in, easily over-taking the deities in the chaos of surprise. At the center of the battle, Shiri used an artifact known as The Forsworn Dagger to drain the deities of their power. After such, Kor, The God of Wisdom had warned if she would slay all the deities, that the fabric holding space and time within the capsule of the realm would disintegrate. Blinded by her own rage, she took the immortal life out of Tyr and Cyric, embuing her with a justified sense of madness. She looked to Kor, and told the God that she would become the new God of the realm, and ensure her fallen lovers ideals be paramount in the development of a new utopia. With a lust for immortal blood, she cut down the remaining deities, forever relieving the realm of their oppression.
Turning to her son, she embraced him as his mother…
…Do you Remember?
Do you remember when I told you that Liberty is a thing that could bend time? Remember when I told you that it is a thing that can shift the mortal to immortal? Remember when I told you that the words that describe it could leap off a page and become like a wildfire? Remember when I told you that it could define the supernatural?
Do you remember when I told you that it could swallow a universe?
Is it becoming clear, now?
In that embrace, the Reignes Legacy would be born. The purpose of Liberty would make its first move against the illusions that dominated existence for so long.
…Gritting his teeth against the pain in his heart, Johnathan drove his sword into the heart of his mother, symbolizing the struggle to drive the illusions dominating her existence from the same. He ripped The Catalyst from the chain that bound it to his mothers body, tore the final page from his fathers journal, and drove the Forsworn Dagger into the two, and past them still… into his own heart.
The page drenched with his blood, revealing its text:
The Code of Reignes
“What can be done, and what cannot be done.”
The Illusion of Trust: If ever bearing witness to false reliance, one can destroy it. One cannot appease it.
The Illusion of Selflessness: If ever bearing witness to false charity, one can destroy it. One cannot endorse it.
The Illusion of Commodity: If ever bearing witness to false value, one can destroy it. One cannot replace it.
The Illusion of Objectivity: If ever bearing witness to false neutrality, one can destroy it. One cannot serve it.
The Illusion of Equality: If ever bearing witness to false status, one can destroy it. One cannot enforce it.
The Illusion of Hope: If ever bearing witness to false promise, one can destroy it. One cannot fulfill it.
The Illusion of Significance: If ever bearing witness to false import, one can destroy it. One cannot obtain it.
All whom swear by blood, for it is your forsaken duty.
…as Camelot was swallowed in that instant, the page slipped into a sea of nothingness, to be received wherever the oppressive illusions are most present.
If you are reading this, the time for your liberation has arrived. Congratulations.
Sincerely,
The Narrator
