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[non-canon] The Prophecy of Pitha

Discussion in 'The Vale of Storytellers' started by Moly, Jan 29, 2018.

  1. Moly

    Moly Subject of the Heartlands The Raven's Glaive [FFXIV]

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    It was an overcast, somewhat chilly afternoon in late april. The clouds were thick and gray, moved swiftly across the sky and cast a playful pattern of sunlight and shadow over the hilly hinterland, on which a sheperd boy called Pitha herded a, well, herd of goats homeward. Pitha was about 15, a boy on the verge of becoming a man, and had never left the lands surrouding his family’s village - except once, last summer, to go to the harvest festival in the next village over, which had been a grand experience beyond imagining. All of that was about to change.

    As he crested a particularly rugged hill, he noticed one of his charges, Mari, a goat that had recently kidded, was bleating and looking around, seemingly in distress. It didn’t take the experienced sheperd boy long to realize what was amiss - the mother goat was missing it’s child. Confident that his herd could manage without him for a few minutes, the boy resolutely grabbed his trusty walking stick and turned back down the hillside. In the valley, he searched for a bit, behind this big rock, in that crevasse, under yonder bush, but to no avail. He was about ready to give up the immediate search when he heard a faint bleating, and he let out a relieved sigh. He did not notice the clouds gathering overhead.

    “Giri!”, he called out. “Come here, Giri! Let’s go home to momma!”

    Another faint bleat was the answer, and so Pitha strode in that general direction. Following the bleating, he was led through the valley, around a particularly rough boulder and up a different hill, where he found the kid cowering in a small hollow among the rocks and bushes. Relieved, he reached out to take the small animal in his arms, when suddenly lightning struck.

    It didn’t strike Pitha, or the goat, or even beside them. It struck the juniper tree farther up the hill. A rumbling that would have sounded somewhat exasperated to an impartial listener followed, but Pitha did not notice that undertone and leapt up in surprise at the crash. The tree was cloven in two and burned, but that barely captured Pitha’s attention. Rather, he was enraptured by the two figures that had suddenly appeared next to the tree.

    “Do not be afraid”, the left figure said. Pitha did not listen. Instead, he pissed his pants.

    “Rejoice, Pitha, for you have been chosen.”, the right figure continued. They stepped - moved, rather - forward in unison, and Pitha was able to get a clearer view at what previously were mere shadows. He very quickly wished he wasn’t.

    Both were large, and appeared humanoid at first glance, though they definitely had too many wings. An inclined observer might count eight pair, but Pitha didn’t know how to count anything except goats. Each figure held something one of their three pairs of arms, the right one an open book that seemed to be dripping blood, the other a flaming sword. Their six red eyes each were all fixed on the skinny adolescent, who in turn stared with bloodshot eyes open in sheer panic.

    The left figure, the one with the book, spoke again.
    “I am Ancariel, an Angel of Heaven, sent here to enlighten you to your destiny, Chosen One.”
    He extended one of his free arms to point at Pitha with a clawed finger.

    Pitha was silent, frozen in panic except for his violent shivering. The baby goat, Giri, cowered behind him.

    “And I am Luthiel. Do not despair. Yours is a great destiny, Pitha”, the right figure - the one with the flaming sword - spoke. Their voices were the clash of mountains, millenia of stone crushed in an instant, powerful and destructive, dwarfing any sound produced by earthly means they bellowed across the hills.

    Pitha turned around and ran.

    “Do not flee, oh Chosen One!”, Luthiel decreed. Pitha did not listen and continued to run down the hill, leaving behind the two monstrous figures and Giri.
    “We mean you no harm, and you have nothing to fear from us. The world would weep in sorrow if you would reject your destiny, Pitha. The Heavens count on you”, the angel continued.

    Pitha, too, continued - to run. He ran like he had never done before. Half deaf from the thunderstrike, he would have had barely understood half the words the angels said to him if he even had the presence of mind to listen in the first place, which he did not. Transfixed by fear at first, he had been unable to move, but once the initial shock had given way to even more panic he had folowed his most basic instinct - FLEE. And he ran and ran, over stones and broken trees, through this valley and over that boulder and under that branch and into the next valley. He kept running and running, his herd completely forgotten as the one all-powerful impulse to get as far away from those monstrous figures as possible overtook every fibre of his being.

    Suddenly, the angel with the book - Ancariel - appeared before Pitha, wings and burning halo flaring as a shaft of light piereced the clouds to illuminate it. An appropriate thunderclap accompanied the manifestation. Behind the sheperd boy, Luthiel appeared in a similar manner, giant flaming sword now held out to the side, blocking the way back.

    “You cannot escape your destiny, young Chosen One”, Ancariel said.

    “You must not fear us”, Luthiel added.

    “We are merely here to tell you of your grand purpose, Pitha!”, Ancariel continued.

    “The fate of the world may rest upon your shoulders, Chosen One”, Luthiel elaborated.

    “While our appearance awes you, you must understand that we are merely messengers of the Heavens’ grand plan for you”, Ancariel spoke.

    “Do not run from us, for it is futile”, Luthiel reprimanded.

    “Speak now, and ask us if you wish”, Ancariel encouraged.

    “Do you wish to know your destiny, Chosen One?”, Luthiel asked.

    Pitha did not. Instead, he took off to a side and dove under a brush, emerged on the other side and took off running again, pure adrenaline of fear carrying his spindly legs to speeds they had never known before.

    Luthiel shot Ancariel a meaningful look.

    “You’d think the fact that he hasn’t tripped and broken every bone yet would be enough to convince a rational mind of miracles”, the angel said dryly. “This could have gone better, so far. Any ideas?”

    Ancariel sighed. “These mortals. I’ve had my share of falling to knees and begging for forgiveness when I’m just doing some routine vision work, but this one takes the cake for fleeing. I’d be impressed if it weren’t so bothersome.”

    Luthiel shrugged with about half the wings. “Let’s continue. This one is important.”
     

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