Post by Benjio on Mar 31, 2015 16:36:03 GMT
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[attr="class","celtic container"]
[attr="class","celtic name"]
SITE HISTORY
[break][break]SITE HISTORY
[attr="class","celtic-content"]
Centuries ago, Azvaloka was a world of peace. Meadows of finest grass, stretching out far beyond the edges of vision. Streams of crystal clear water, calm and serene. A brightly burning sun in the sky, bringing light and warmth to all. The neverending gentle breeze, nudging and tickling the backs of young foals. [break][break]
The horses were few, almost nothing compared to the vast expanse of land they inhabited. Everyone knew each other, and help was freely proffered amongst them. Decisions were made collectively; disagreements were borne in a civilised manner, and no ill will was ever felt between two horses.[break][break]
There are little records left of this time of tranquility and prosperity. Perhaps this is all false, perhaps wars have always existed. Perhaps this idyllic age has been romanticised or idealised a little. But such is what we do when, in times of trouble, we long for the past, believing that nothing can be worse than the present.[break][break]
What we do know, with great certainty, is this: that the Night of the Elements changed everything.[break][break]
The Night started innocuously enough. The sun departed in a splash of orange and red, with a promise to return. Parents put their young foals to bed, under the watchful gaze of the sickle moon. The rustling of the branches stilled as the world fell asleep. [break][break]
And, swiftly and silently, the whole of Azvaloka, from the youngest to the oldest, entered the realm of dreams.[break][break]
Some horses found themselves in a world filled with nothing but rocks and sand and soil. They plodded on, hooves crunching on the earth beneath, struggling to find the end, but the land only stretched further and further. They walked for hours and hours, until their hooves bled and their muscles begged for rest. Some gave in, then and there. They collapsed onto the ground, and could move no more. The more tenacious kept going. And they reached the end.[break][break]
And then there were horses who ended up in the middle of an ocean, without any land in sight. And it was no ordinary ocean, for the water was filled with swirling vortices, threatening to pull the unfortunate into the murky depths. Many fought against the inexorable currents, against the pull of the watery grave. But they eventually tired, while the waters surged only stronger. And these, eventually, were hauled down deep below the water surface. The wiser horses did not push against the currents, but followed it, swimming wherever the flow took them. Finally they arrived at a calm lake, the most paradisiacal place they could ever have imagined.[break][break]
Still other horses were trapped in a burning wasteland. Dessicated shrubs, stones, trees, grass - everything was in flames. And they, too, began to catch fire, a little by little. It would start with their tails, accidentally brushing against a burning branch. And the fire would spread, singeing their fur. growing larger and larger until it engulfed them. Some shuddered and cowered, whimpering as the flames spread, until they became charred husks. Some, however, were filled with fury at their plight, and ran. They ran across the burning land, caring little for the burning grass they tread upon or the burning trees they stumbled into. Their hearts were burning with rage, rage so mighty it reduced the fire itself to ashes and cinders.[break][break]
The remaining horses dreamed they were carried by the winds, over great lands and seas. The winds buffeted them this way and that, and they admired the views below them, marvelling at the beauty of the natural world. But, sooner or later, even the winds had to come to rest. And each horse was deposited where the wind left them. Some had been too busy sightseeing; they were dropped unknowingly into a river they struggled in, or fell from a great height onto jagged rocks. The more cautious had been studying the winds, looking for patterns, and had pre-empted when they would land. They were able to adjust the way they fell, to land with minimal impact, or hold their breath before they fell into the merciless waters.[break][break]
In the morning, as the sun rose, the horses awoke, puzzled by their dreams. As the confused murmurs and perplexed glances spread, so too did shrieks of horror when many horses failed to rise, lying in a perpetual slumber.[break][break]
The days that followed were ones of great uncertainty. Nobody had an explanation for what happened, and nobody dared to talk about the fateful Night. The usually close-knit community of Azvaloka was now separated by secrets and fear, and friendships began to fall apart. It was a new era, the likes of which none had ever guessed would arise. And the day this era truly began - the day that the horses of Azvaloka finally gave up any semblance of community - was the day that young Mirri cried.[break][break]
Mirri was a young filly, who had lost both her parents to the Night of the Elements. She also had crooked legs, and could only hobble along with a limp. The other foals laughed at her, calling her names and leaving her out of their games. In regular times, she would have stoutly ignored them, as she was used to doing. But on this day, she was thinking about her poor mother and father, and missing them dearly. And when the other foals shouted “Cripple!” in her face, she began to cry.[break][break]
And as she cried, so did the sky.[break][break]
Water droplets, thick and fat, began to fall. The clouds that had been drifting lazily in the clear sky, now gathered above the foals, dark and ominous. The other foals were frightened, and ran home. And their parents, upon hearing of it, forbade them to go near Mirri again. Ever.[break][break]
And, in a matter of hours, the whole community turned against Mirri, who remained where she was, drenched and confused. They held an emergency meeting, and the vote was unanimous: to banish Mirri. Many cried that she must be some witch. Many proclaimed that she would drown them all. Many also thought that she was the cause of the Night itself.[break][break]
So Mirri was sent away. She went as far west as she could, staying in a cave upon the river bank, mourning her parents and fending for herself. But it took no more than a week, for twenty more horses to join her. And then thirty the next week. And forty the following. They, too, had been found causing rain to fall or rivers to overflow. They, too, had been blamed and hunted and cast out. They, too, were equally perplexed, and equally rejected.[break][break]
But they banded together, and slowly grew to learn more about their powers. They called themselves the Paniya. The water herd. And, all the while, they remained suspicious of the other Azvalokans, afraid that they would be slaughtered in the night by vengeful horses.[break][break]
Meanwhile, back in what was left of the main community, there was but one lone voice decrying the treatment of the Paniyans. Jarrus, a young hot-tempered stallion. When the last fifty of the “water magic” horses had been exiled, he rose up with great fury and proclaimed that Azvaloka was dead.[break][break]
“Azvaloka is dead. The land is dead. We are dead! We used to be one, all of us, and now what have we become? Bullies of young fillies and hunters of upstanding horses! Or, in a single word: cruel! Yes, cruel!”[break][break]
The other horses were not happy, and they shouted back at him. And his anger grew and grew. And everyone felt it, for the ground beneath their hooves became hotter and hotter, burning their feet until they grew silent in terror.[break][break]
“I no longer want to be a part of you,” Jarrus thundered. “I will make my own way, up north. If anyone wishes to come, they may.” And he turned, and marched off to the northernmost reaches of the land.[break][break]
And many followed him. Not only had they been moved by his words, but they were also glad to find that they were not the only ones who could burn things. They had spent the past weeks hiding their newfound powers, afraid of ending up like the Paniyans. And now, they could live without fear. Together with Jarrus, they formed their own herd, and called it Agni. The fire herd. In time, they sent emissaries to the Paniyans, and later formed close ties, bonded by a shared disdain for the other horses of Azvaloka.[break][break]
The remaining horses were now much fewer in number. They tried to go back to being the close, peaceful community they used to be. However, as more and more began to awaken to their dormant powers, their differences became only more stark. Those who could move the earth argued that their power was more important, for the land itself was the earth. Those who could change the winds argued that air was the highest and greatest of all the elements, for it is the element of life itself. And as they gained stronger powers, their arguments turned into full-fledged battles, to show which was mightier than the other.[break][break]
Kelia and Pitt witnessed all this happening, and decided that something must be done. They gathered the community together, and proposed a splitting of ways.[break][break]
“This may go against everything that Azvaloka has stood for, but our community has already been divided. We are now only a shadow of what we were before. And if we keep fighting among ourselves, we will become even less. We need space, all of us. Our own space,” Pitt spoke with a slow, calm assurance.[break][break]
“If we don’t stop now, we will only have wars in the future,” Kelia added. “More of our foals will die. We will become nothing. Azvaloka will become nothing. We are not dividing ourselves further here. We are still one community, but spread apart so that we can work better.”[break][break]
It took much convincing, but eventually everyone came to agree. For it was clear that the endless battles were wasting time and costing lives. They all agreed, too, to remain as allies, and to help each other out as needed.[break][break]
Kelia led the wind herd eastwards, and they called themselves Pavana. Pitt and the earth herd went south, and they became known as the Bhumi.[break][break]
And with that, Azvaloka was no longer a single community of horses, but became four herds. Earth, water, wind and fire. It was not a world of peace any longer. Not the world with the lush meadows or tranquil days.[break][break]
Azvaloka was now a world of the elements, in all their harsh glory.
Centuries ago, Azvaloka was a world of peace. Meadows of finest grass, stretching out far beyond the edges of vision. Streams of crystal clear water, calm and serene. A brightly burning sun in the sky, bringing light and warmth to all. The neverending gentle breeze, nudging and tickling the backs of young foals. [break][break]
The horses were few, almost nothing compared to the vast expanse of land they inhabited. Everyone knew each other, and help was freely proffered amongst them. Decisions were made collectively; disagreements were borne in a civilised manner, and no ill will was ever felt between two horses.[break][break]
There are little records left of this time of tranquility and prosperity. Perhaps this is all false, perhaps wars have always existed. Perhaps this idyllic age has been romanticised or idealised a little. But such is what we do when, in times of trouble, we long for the past, believing that nothing can be worse than the present.[break][break]
What we do know, with great certainty, is this: that the Night of the Elements changed everything.[break][break]
The Night started innocuously enough. The sun departed in a splash of orange and red, with a promise to return. Parents put their young foals to bed, under the watchful gaze of the sickle moon. The rustling of the branches stilled as the world fell asleep. [break][break]
And, swiftly and silently, the whole of Azvaloka, from the youngest to the oldest, entered the realm of dreams.[break][break]
Some horses found themselves in a world filled with nothing but rocks and sand and soil. They plodded on, hooves crunching on the earth beneath, struggling to find the end, but the land only stretched further and further. They walked for hours and hours, until their hooves bled and their muscles begged for rest. Some gave in, then and there. They collapsed onto the ground, and could move no more. The more tenacious kept going. And they reached the end.[break][break]
And then there were horses who ended up in the middle of an ocean, without any land in sight. And it was no ordinary ocean, for the water was filled with swirling vortices, threatening to pull the unfortunate into the murky depths. Many fought against the inexorable currents, against the pull of the watery grave. But they eventually tired, while the waters surged only stronger. And these, eventually, were hauled down deep below the water surface. The wiser horses did not push against the currents, but followed it, swimming wherever the flow took them. Finally they arrived at a calm lake, the most paradisiacal place they could ever have imagined.[break][break]
Still other horses were trapped in a burning wasteland. Dessicated shrubs, stones, trees, grass - everything was in flames. And they, too, began to catch fire, a little by little. It would start with their tails, accidentally brushing against a burning branch. And the fire would spread, singeing their fur. growing larger and larger until it engulfed them. Some shuddered and cowered, whimpering as the flames spread, until they became charred husks. Some, however, were filled with fury at their plight, and ran. They ran across the burning land, caring little for the burning grass they tread upon or the burning trees they stumbled into. Their hearts were burning with rage, rage so mighty it reduced the fire itself to ashes and cinders.[break][break]
The remaining horses dreamed they were carried by the winds, over great lands and seas. The winds buffeted them this way and that, and they admired the views below them, marvelling at the beauty of the natural world. But, sooner or later, even the winds had to come to rest. And each horse was deposited where the wind left them. Some had been too busy sightseeing; they were dropped unknowingly into a river they struggled in, or fell from a great height onto jagged rocks. The more cautious had been studying the winds, looking for patterns, and had pre-empted when they would land. They were able to adjust the way they fell, to land with minimal impact, or hold their breath before they fell into the merciless waters.[break][break]
In the morning, as the sun rose, the horses awoke, puzzled by their dreams. As the confused murmurs and perplexed glances spread, so too did shrieks of horror when many horses failed to rise, lying in a perpetual slumber.[break][break]
The days that followed were ones of great uncertainty. Nobody had an explanation for what happened, and nobody dared to talk about the fateful Night. The usually close-knit community of Azvaloka was now separated by secrets and fear, and friendships began to fall apart. It was a new era, the likes of which none had ever guessed would arise. And the day this era truly began - the day that the horses of Azvaloka finally gave up any semblance of community - was the day that young Mirri cried.[break][break]
Mirri was a young filly, who had lost both her parents to the Night of the Elements. She also had crooked legs, and could only hobble along with a limp. The other foals laughed at her, calling her names and leaving her out of their games. In regular times, she would have stoutly ignored them, as she was used to doing. But on this day, she was thinking about her poor mother and father, and missing them dearly. And when the other foals shouted “Cripple!” in her face, she began to cry.[break][break]
And as she cried, so did the sky.[break][break]
Water droplets, thick and fat, began to fall. The clouds that had been drifting lazily in the clear sky, now gathered above the foals, dark and ominous. The other foals were frightened, and ran home. And their parents, upon hearing of it, forbade them to go near Mirri again. Ever.[break][break]
And, in a matter of hours, the whole community turned against Mirri, who remained where she was, drenched and confused. They held an emergency meeting, and the vote was unanimous: to banish Mirri. Many cried that she must be some witch. Many proclaimed that she would drown them all. Many also thought that she was the cause of the Night itself.[break][break]
So Mirri was sent away. She went as far west as she could, staying in a cave upon the river bank, mourning her parents and fending for herself. But it took no more than a week, for twenty more horses to join her. And then thirty the next week. And forty the following. They, too, had been found causing rain to fall or rivers to overflow. They, too, had been blamed and hunted and cast out. They, too, were equally perplexed, and equally rejected.[break][break]
But they banded together, and slowly grew to learn more about their powers. They called themselves the Paniya. The water herd. And, all the while, they remained suspicious of the other Azvalokans, afraid that they would be slaughtered in the night by vengeful horses.[break][break]
Meanwhile, back in what was left of the main community, there was but one lone voice decrying the treatment of the Paniyans. Jarrus, a young hot-tempered stallion. When the last fifty of the “water magic” horses had been exiled, he rose up with great fury and proclaimed that Azvaloka was dead.[break][break]
“Azvaloka is dead. The land is dead. We are dead! We used to be one, all of us, and now what have we become? Bullies of young fillies and hunters of upstanding horses! Or, in a single word: cruel! Yes, cruel!”[break][break]
The other horses were not happy, and they shouted back at him. And his anger grew and grew. And everyone felt it, for the ground beneath their hooves became hotter and hotter, burning their feet until they grew silent in terror.[break][break]
“I no longer want to be a part of you,” Jarrus thundered. “I will make my own way, up north. If anyone wishes to come, they may.” And he turned, and marched off to the northernmost reaches of the land.[break][break]
And many followed him. Not only had they been moved by his words, but they were also glad to find that they were not the only ones who could burn things. They had spent the past weeks hiding their newfound powers, afraid of ending up like the Paniyans. And now, they could live without fear. Together with Jarrus, they formed their own herd, and called it Agni. The fire herd. In time, they sent emissaries to the Paniyans, and later formed close ties, bonded by a shared disdain for the other horses of Azvaloka.[break][break]
The remaining horses were now much fewer in number. They tried to go back to being the close, peaceful community they used to be. However, as more and more began to awaken to their dormant powers, their differences became only more stark. Those who could move the earth argued that their power was more important, for the land itself was the earth. Those who could change the winds argued that air was the highest and greatest of all the elements, for it is the element of life itself. And as they gained stronger powers, their arguments turned into full-fledged battles, to show which was mightier than the other.[break][break]
Kelia and Pitt witnessed all this happening, and decided that something must be done. They gathered the community together, and proposed a splitting of ways.[break][break]
“This may go against everything that Azvaloka has stood for, but our community has already been divided. We are now only a shadow of what we were before. And if we keep fighting among ourselves, we will become even less. We need space, all of us. Our own space,” Pitt spoke with a slow, calm assurance.[break][break]
“If we don’t stop now, we will only have wars in the future,” Kelia added. “More of our foals will die. We will become nothing. Azvaloka will become nothing. We are not dividing ourselves further here. We are still one community, but spread apart so that we can work better.”[break][break]
It took much convincing, but eventually everyone came to agree. For it was clear that the endless battles were wasting time and costing lives. They all agreed, too, to remain as allies, and to help each other out as needed.[break][break]
Kelia led the wind herd eastwards, and they called themselves Pavana. Pitt and the earth herd went south, and they became known as the Bhumi.[break][break]
And with that, Azvaloka was no longer a single community of horses, but became four herds. Earth, water, wind and fire. It was not a world of peace any longer. Not the world with the lush meadows or tranquil days.[break][break]
Azvaloka was now a world of the elements, in all their harsh glory.
[attr="class","trinCredits"]TABLE BY TRINITY @ ADOXOGRAPHY