"Most people are like worms, blind, foolish, and hopelessly digging themselves deeper and deeper into the tunnels of their own ignorance, all while feeling as if they know everything. They probably do know everything, as far as their barely existent brains could perceive it, and are thus content to wallow in their stupidity and ignorance, thinking themselves as important.
I do not concern myself with the thought of lowly worms. That would be beneath me, for I am a proud rooster, and we do not play with our food." - Flesh Artisan Aspirant Gallus Beragonys, on the eve of his induction to the order of the Flesh Artisans.
Council Chamber of the Flesh Artisans, Gor-Seinnon, Central Antemeia, Winter Solstice of the year 47 VA.
"Arise, my brethren, and bring forth your reports to the taskmaster," said an old, positively decrepit human woman, the newly chosen first elder of the council of the Flesh Artisans.
To her left and right were seated her fourteen fellow councilman and councilwomen, while on the tier beneath them were seated the ascendants, those who had shown talent and achievements, from whom the next council member would be chosen whenever one is needed.
Across from them sat the two hundred aspirants, the lowest ranking members amongst the flesh artisans, those apprentices that had shown promise, and might one day be raised to the rank of ascendant, and with luck, the council of elders.
Yet instead of the full roster of two hundred, four seats were left unoccupied, which was rare. The yearly gathering of the flesh artisans were treated as the top priority, and more often than not, for a seat to be vacant just meant a new occupant would be needed to fill that seat.
Scrolls were collected from the aspirants, and were gathered before they were handed over to the taskmaster, a ceremonial position given to an entrusted scribe, usually an old experienced one. The taskmaster then unfurled the scrolls one by one and read the reports, the vast majority only detailing the author's experiments and territory management over the past year.
The Taskmaster also read the names of the four missing aspirants, and the reason for their absence on this hallowed day. One had perished from a heart attack in spring, while another died in an alchemical experiment gone wrong just two months ago. The other two had perished when elven raiders ran through their village in summer.
"Aspirant Gallus Beragonys, step forward," intoned the taskmaster in his old, severe voice.
Called upon, the named aspirant stood up from his seat and walked to the center of the room, where he stood tall, proud and confident. The aspirant in question was a rooster-therian, with a bright red comb on his head and black feathers all over his body, almost indistinguishable from his black robes.
"Aspirant Beragonys," said the first elder of the council in an accusing tone. "Your report stated that you had incited the new warchief of the elven raiders, and directly caused the elven raid we suffered last summer. Is this true?"
"Yes, honored elder. That is my doing," said the aspirant, still full of confidence, proud of his feat.
"Are you aware that this raid had cost us three villages, no less than two thousand five hundred dead serfs, and two aspirants amongst its victims?" Questioned the first elder with a scathing tone. "Or did that not cross your mind?"
"I had warned them about it. They were fools to choose to stand and fight," answered the aspirant with a guiltless shrug. "I had taken away all the serfs of value from my village beforehand, so there were not many losses there overall."
A silence pervaded the council for a moment. Antemeia as a nation was far narrower to the south, as they lost the majority of their south eastern side to Vitalica during the rebellion. The village aspirant Beragonys was in charge of, as well as the two villages of the deceased aspirants, lay on that southernmost tip, right by the borders with Ptolodecca and Vitalica. That was also where the raiders had struck through.
"And your reason for these acts?" Asked the first elder once more.
"To have the elves strike at our enemies, and in the process, whittle themselves down as well," explained the rooster therian proudly to the council. "This way, our enemies become weakened, and we would likely not have to worry about raiders for at least another generation or two."
"Taskmaster, report on the damage the raids had caused to Ptolodecca and Vitalica, as well as the raider casualties incurred, to this council," ordered the first elder as she fixed her stare to the still prideful therian aspirant on the floor.
"Two villages confirmed sacked in Ptolodecca, approximately two thousand lives lost. Raider casualties there were near total, approximately three thousand raiders killed, less than a hundred survivors escaped," reported the Taskmaster dutifully as he was ordered.
"That was slightly disappointing I will admit. I had hoped for at least three villages, but I heard a disciple of the Bone Lord happened to be present in the third village raided," added Beragonys to the information.
"And Vitalica?"
"Seven villages and towns were confirmed sacked. Approximately five thousand civilian casualties. Approximately three thousand casualties among the Vitalican military, among which, the second templars were confirmed annihilated with less than twenty survivors. We also received confirmed reports that Faerghus Fiachna fell in battle," elaborated the old taskmaster. "Less than two hundred raiders escaped. We caught approximately half of the escapees as they ran through our lands. The raider warchief was confirmed dead as well."
The first elder mulled over the report, and discussed with her fellow council members discreetly. After a good ten minutes of discussion, they seemed to have come to a decision, and she fixed her stare back at the still waiting aspirant below.
"Aspirant Beragonys, your impulsive actions, done without proper permissions, had caused damage to the great nation, and cost the lives of your fellow aspirants. This is a demerit, and for that, we shall strip you of the title of Aspirant," said the first elder in a firm tone. Gallus Beragonys gave no reaction to her pronouncement and just stood where he was, staring back defiantly. "However, they had also done great damage to multiple hostile entities at the same time, for an acceptable cost. We appreciate this drive for success and this independence you have shown to possess, and thus, we name you, Gallus Beragonys, as Flesh Artisan Ascendant."
Applause rippled through the crowd of aspirants, as many looks of envy were directed at the newest Ascendant amongst them. Beragonys himself puffed his chest with pride, and looked wholly satisfied with himself.
"You may now claim your seat amongst the Ascendants."
"Most people are like worms, blind, foolish, and hopelessly digging themselves deeper and deeper into the tunnels of their own ignorance, all while feeling as if they know everything. They probably do know everything, as far as their barely existent brains could perceive it, and are thus content to wallow in their stupidity and ignorance, thinking themselves as important.
I do not concern myself with the thought of lowly worms. That would be beneath me, for I am a proud rooster, and we do not play with our food." - Flesh Artisan Aspirant Gallus Beragonys, on the eve of his induction to the order of the Flesh Artisans.
Council Chamber of the Flesh Artisans, Gor-Seinnon, Central Antemeia, Winter Solstice of the year 47 VA.
"Arise, my brethren, and bring forth your reports to the taskmaster," said an old, positively decrepit human woman, the newly chosen first elder of the council of the Flesh Artisans.
To her left and right were seated her fourteen fellow councilman and councilwomen, while on the tier beneath them were seated the ascendants, those who had shown talent and achievements, from whom the next council member would be chosen whenever one is needed.
Across from them sat the two hundred aspirants, the lowest ranking members amongst the flesh artisans, those apprentices that had shown promise, and might one day be raised to the rank of ascendant, and with luck, the council of elders.
Yet instead of the full roster of two hundred, four seats were left unoccupied, which was rare. The yearly gathering of the flesh artisans were treated as the top priority, and more often than not, for a seat to be vacant just meant a new occupant would be needed to fill that seat.
Scrolls were collected from the aspirants, and were gathered before they were handed over to the taskmaster, a ceremonial position given to an entrusted scribe, usually an old experienced one. The taskmaster then unfurled the scrolls one by one and read the reports, the vast majority only detailing the author's experiments and territory management over the past year.
The Taskmaster also read the names of the four missing aspirants, and the reason for their absence on this hallowed day. One had perished from a heart attack in spring, while another died in an alchemical experiment gone wrong just two months ago. The other two had perished when elven raiders ran through their village in summer.
"Aspirant Gallus Beragonys, step forward," intoned the taskmaster in his old, severe voice.
Called upon, the named aspirant stood up from his seat and walked to the center of the room, where he stood tall, proud and confident. The aspirant in question was a rooster-therian, with a bright red comb on his head and black feathers all over his body, almost indistinguishable from his black robes.
"Aspirant Beragonys," said the first elder of the council in an accusing tone. "Your report stated that you had incited the new warchief of the elven raiders, and directly caused the elven raid we suffered last summer. Is this true?"
"Yes, honored elder. That is my doing," said the aspirant, still full of confidence, proud of his feat.
"Are you aware that this raid had cost us three villages, no less than two thousand five hundred dead serfs, and two aspirants amongst its victims?" Questioned the first elder with a scathing tone. "Or did that not cross your mind?"
"I had warned them about it. They were fools to choose to stand and fight," answered the aspirant with a guiltless shrug. "I had taken away all the serfs of value from my village beforehand, so there were not many losses there overall."
A silence pervaded the council for a moment. Antemeia as a nation was far narrower to the south, as they lost the majority of their south eastern side to Vitalica during the rebellion. The village aspirant Beragonys was in charge of, as well as the two villages of the deceased aspirants, lay on that southernmost tip, right by the borders with Ptolodecca and Vitalica. That was also where the raiders had struck through.
"And your reason for these acts?" Asked the first elder once more.
"To have the elves strike at our enemies, and in the process, whittle themselves down as well," explained the rooster therian proudly to the council. "This way, our enemies become weakened, and we would likely not have to worry about raiders for at least another generation or two."
"Taskmaster, report on the damage the raids had caused to Ptolodecca and Vitalica, as well as the raider casualties incurred, to this council," ordered the first elder as she fixed her stare to the still prideful therian aspirant on the floor.
"Two villages confirmed sacked in Ptolodecca, approximately two thousand lives lost. Raider casualties there were near total, approximately three thousand raiders killed, less than a hundred survivors escaped," reported the Taskmaster dutifully as he was ordered.
"That was slightly disappointing I will admit. I had hoped for at least three villages, but I heard a disciple of the Bone Lord happened to be present in the third village raided," added Beragonys to the information.
"And Vitalica?"
"Seven villages and towns were confirmed sacked. Approximately five thousand civilian casualties. Approximately three thousand casualties among the Vitalican military, among which, the second templars were confirmed annihilated with less than twenty survivors. We also received confirmed reports that Faerghus Fiachna fell in battle," elaborated the old taskmaster. "Less than two hundred raiders escaped. We caught approximately half of the escapees as they ran through our lands. The raider warchief was confirmed dead as well."
The first elder mulled over the report, and discussed with her fellow council members discreetly. After a good ten minutes of discussion, they seemed to have come to a decision, and she fixed her stare back at the still waiting aspirant below.
"Aspirant Beragonys, your impulsive actions, done without proper permissions, had caused damage to the great nation, and cost the lives of your fellow aspirants. This is a demerit, and for that, we shall strip you of the title of Aspirant," said the first elder in a firm tone. Gallus Beragonys gave no reaction to her pronouncement and just stood where he was, staring back defiantly. "However, they had also done great damage to multiple hostile entities at the same time, for an acceptable cost. We appreciate this drive for success and this independence you have shown to possess, and thus, we name you, Gallus Beragonys, as Flesh Artisan Ascendant."
Applause rippled through the crowd of aspirants, as many looks of envy were directed at the newest Ascendant amongst them. Beragonys himself puffed his chest with pride, and looked wholly satisfied with himself.
"You may now claim your seat amongst the Ascendants."
