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Post by Wilhelm Cransnikov on Dec 23, 2022 5:45:58 GMT
Since the dawn of human civilization the Heelish river valley has been blessed with fertile soil and agricultural abundance. In the earliest days the Celts explained this abundance through the work of supernatural forces; however, they knew such boons came with a price. To appease the river gods, the Celtic people would burn, butcher, and bury their fellow man.
When the Germans migrated to the region and toppled the Celts, they shied away from the worst extremes of these practices but still understood the simple truth of the land; fertility is acquired through death. As such, men were still routinely sacrificed to appease the land.
For millennia, the contract was kept to. The people of the valley gave the land souls and in return they were given abundant harvests. Nevertheless, with the rise of foreign faiths in the lands of Heel, the Germans reneged on their side of the bargain. For a time there were no repercussions for this breach of contract, however, the day has finally come when the old gods have claimed their due, with interest.
On April 3rd 1915 the Vaalberg Volcano erupted. It was said to have been heard from as far as Leng. The city of Vaalburg was mercifully close enough to the enraged mountain that the inhabitants were liquefied. Those further away were not as lucky, as they had to endure the raining ash and stone with ruptured eardrums. Hundreds of thousands are dead and the mainland is in chaos.
Many of us with weaker faith have turned away from the extreme death and destruction brought on by this eruption. This is a result of weakening and unnatural empathy brought on by centuries of Latin indoctrination. This eruption should not be viewed as a tragedy, rather, and opportunity. The state is in chaos, the church is without answers, and the people are looking for leaders.
The Gods are not cruel. They have given us the greatest of boons in order to restore the natural order. We must not falter at this critical junction.
-Wotan, Gothi of the Great Oak
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Post by Wilhelm Cransnikov on Jan 14, 2023 2:10:54 GMT
It wasn't supposed to be this way. The beginning of their revolution went so well. When the Vaalsburg erupted and blackened the sky the people were in confusion, the extreme death showed many the lies that the King and his priests were feeding the people and many took to the banner of revolution for answers.
In those early days it felt so easy, they stormed the Heelish garrison and raised the tricolor over the old governor's palace. With that momentum they proclaimed the Heelish republic and a proper state and army began to be built in the city.
Had the fall come from the Thole it would have been palatable, but it did not come from the soldiers of that king. Rather, it was those damnable priests. When the republic was proclaimed closing the churches was the next natural step, after all, all the other institutions knelt down, why should the church be any different? However, those damn priests refused and the next thing Gisilhairhts knew they were besieging the cathedral of the Virgin Mother.
Had that been it, it would just have been an unfortunate sacrifice on the path to true liberation, but it was not. Those damnable priests raised a fucking peasant levy and with the remainders of the Tholish garrison assaulted Heel.
And so now Gisilhairhts lies, crouching by the window of some industrial plant waiting for the next peasant force to storm the street, bitterly cursing the priests and their peasant dogs.
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Post by Wilhelm Cransnikov on Jan 15, 2023 0:06:37 GMT
John never really cared for the church, which is rather ironic given his name. He by no means hated it, but it always seemed more like a chore than some sort of blessing. Had it really been his choice he would never have left his town to travel to Heel, however, when every other fit, young man left to fight you don't really have a choice.
And so, after some work on the logistical side of the battle of Heel, John has found himself stacking wood. To be more specific he was building pyres. Pyres for burning men. standing atop a hastily erected stage, the priest overseeing this whole affair screams some fiery sermon to the assembled crowd. The priest, Father Cromwell, is saying something about atheism, snakes, the antichrist, and moral decay. John was not listening particularly closely. After all, he never really cared about the church.
Soon enough the pyres are finished and the poor, beleaguered would-be revolutionaries are dragged through the streets facing abuse of all kinds from the crowds. As the fires rise and the men scream, John can't help but feel indifferent to the whole affair, after all he had never really chosen to fight and it's not like he particularly supported the church. This was just another chore he had to put up with, like going to mass every Sunday.
When it was finally over, John and the other men get to cleaning up what remains and preparing for the next set of pyres. After all, John may not have paid much attention to Cromwell and his speech, but by its very tone he knew that soon enough more pyres would be needed.
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