Yodan of Caspin

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Yodan of Caspin

The enchanted Voice box mechanically repeated its assigned message with an amazing volume that carried over a mile in open country. Wiping the blood from his hands onto his jacket, Field General Yodan, reached down with a remarkably gentle touch, to cauterize the comatose soldiers severed leg artery. He didn't see the irony, but others did. He had personally dispatched a dozen or so with a battle fury that even the Barbarians would have found blood curdling. Yet now he displayed the calm concern of a Physician as he tended the wounded man. No more than half-way through the ranks of the severely wounded he had exhausted his memorized

healing spells and now continued using what physical curative

abilities he possessed. "By decree of the World Federation

Council of Thrandor", the Ampli-Box boomed, "you are hereby

ordered to surrender unconditionally. All lands properties, wealth

and chattels once belonging to Ablator of Hussar are forfeit to

arbitration and re-distribution. Ablator, for his crimes against

creation and the new covenant of the Federation, is hereby

stripped of all rank & title. Authority is bestowed upon General

Yodan, Lord of Caspin, to deal out individual judgments and

return order to these lands. Please lay down your weapons, and

stand down. Prepare for disbanding, identification and

interrogation".

They had not listened. He had lost many well-trained charges this

morning, and as his force moved deeper into Ablators now open

religious sanctum, Yodan had chosen to stay behind on the field

to heal. He had killed enough for one day. Eighteen men lay

bandaged and stable now. Several others were beyond aid and a few less

critical, waited for medics still among the hundreds of wounded in the

center of the half-mile plateau fronting Ablitors Fortress.

Having accounted for all the Cleric spell casters and with the few

remaining defenders cornered within the Sanctorum, there was no reason

to expect trouble here, and so he had ordered no guard to stay.

Arriving upon the wind, amid the cries and lamentations of the stricken

and dying all around, Yodan had not at first sensed his arrival, being on

his knees in the blood-soaked grass. A surge of power suddenly filled the

air all about him. Aware now of a powerful presence, he cursed under his

breath that his detection and protection spells had lapsed. Standing, he turned and watched as the being became visible a few short paces from him. He was momentarily chagrined that his informants had not reported the existence of this high-level foe. Obviously some new ultra-high level Cleric, here to bolster Ablators cause.

Hoping there might be something of him left to resurrect, the exhausted Warrior/Cleric smiled defiantly at the power-filled creature, and mentally clicked his amygdales forward, engaging his Epid-armor. The last of his psi reserves ran like static electricity across his flesh and clothing, morphing it into the genetic blue, "Psionic Mind Armor", innate to his family*. He lacked the energy needed to transform his arms into the sword-like appendages optional to this discipline and so instead let his hand drop to the hilt of the Long Sword at his hip.

Smiling back with what might be described as a look of kindly forgiveness. A figure of non-descript age, he at first appeared old, simply because of his long white hair. His face was almost feminine, beautiful and smooth. Hovering above the ground, he was shoeless under the flowing purple robes, woven from some gossamer-like material. Yodan expected to discover the manner of his death. Payment for his lack of caution, but once again he was surprised.

Emblazoned upon the glowing figures chest and hanging about his neck were the Symbols of Kalkeffa. His voice was quiet, soothing and yet Yodan heard him clearly, over the boom of the Ampli-Box. "Peace Yodan, son of Sargon the searcher. I have come in the name of he whom we both worship above all others. Not to end your life, but to set you upon the path to your destiny. Kalkeffa has chosen you to play a part in the Great Unfolding."

"Your father has tempered you well, "he said soberly. Then donning a look of merriment continued," his raging passion is a glory in heaven, he has shaken the Saints from their age long apathy. Yes Yodan, "The Old General" as you call him sits with those at Kalkeffas' side and now the Holy Host is unified. For the first time in this age, we shall add our influence to the Great Unfolding.

The Federation Magus believe Thrandor to be safe and their scryings are so deep and complete that they are unquestionably accurate, yet the planet will still perish and be so completely wiped of all creatures that nothing here shall survive. A great darkness will capture the world. We have seen the end to come.

Yet, though Thrandor will surely perish, still it may live on to a greatness unexpected by the Gods of Darkness. Defeat equals victory, Darkness equals light and so hope still exists where there is none . Your father wrote his last manifesto on the subject, it lies within his study. You might find it enlightening. "Romanic's Conundrum," he named it for the ancient Kalkeffan philosopher who developed the theory that the sum total of all opposites creates the full spectrum of variation and thus perfect balance.

"Keep your faith at hand in the days to come"

Then he was gone.

Internally sighing, Yodan dropped his psionics, reached for the gauze and anti-infectant at his left hip. Maybe next week he would open a fruit stand. Slowly turning, he knelt back onto the crimson ground, to finish healing the wounded comrade. Thus was the return to his father's house finally accomplished.

	Home Member Pages Yodan of Caspin The enchanted Voice box mechanically repeated its assigned message with an amazing volume that carried over a mile in open country. Wiping the blood from his hands onto his jacket, Field General Yodan, reached down with a remarkably gentle touch, to cauterize the comatose soldiers severed leg artery. He didn't see the irony, but others did. He had personally dispatched a dozen or so with a battle fury that even the Barbarians would have found blood curdling. Yet now he displayed the calm concern of a Physician as he tended the wounded man. No more than half-way through the ranks of the severely wounded he had exhausted his memorized healing spells and now continued using what physical curative abilities he possessed. "By decree of the World Federation Council of Thrandor", the Ampli-Box boomed, "you are hereby ordered to surrender unconditionally. All lands properties, wealth and chattels once belonging to Ablator of Hussar are forfeit to arbitration and re-distribution. Ablator, for his crimes against creation and the new covenant of the Federation, is hereby stripped of all rank & title. Authority is bestowed upon General Yodan, Lord of Caspin, to deal out individual judgments and return order to these lands. Please lay down your weapons, and stand down. Prepare for disbanding, identification and interrogation". They had not listened. He had lost many well-trained charges this morning, and as his force moved deeper into Ablators now open religious sanctum, Yodan had chosen to stay behind on the field to heal. He had killed enough for one day. Eighteen men lay bandaged and stable now. Several others were beyond aid and a few less critical, waited for medics still among the hundreds of wounded in the center of the half-mile plateau fronting Ablitors Fortress. Having accounted for all the Cleric spell casters and with the few remaining defenders cornered within the Sanctorum, there was no reason to expect trouble here, and so he had ordered no guard to stay. Arriving upon the wind, amid the cries and lamentations of the stricken and dying all around, Yodan had not at first sensed his arrival, being on his knees in the blood-soaked grass. A surge of power suddenly filled the air all about him. Aware now of a powerful presence, he cursed under his breath that his detection and protection spells had lapsed. Standing, he turned and watched as the being became visible a few short paces from him. He was momentarily chagrined that his informants had not reported the existence of this high-level foe. Obviously some new ultra-high level Cleric, here to bolster Ablators cause. Hoping there might be something of him left to resurrect, the exhausted Warrior/Cleric smiled defiantly at the power-filled creature, and mentally clicked his amygdales forward, engaging his Epid-armor. The last of his psi reserves ran like static electricity across his flesh and clothing, morphing it into the genetic blue, "Psionic Mind Armor", innate to his family. He lacked the energy needed to transform his arms into the sword-like appendages optional to this discipline and so instead let his hand drop to the hilt of the Long Sword at his hip. Smiling back with what might be described as a look of kindly forgiveness. A figure of non-descript age, he at first appeared old, simply because of his long white hair. His face was almost feminine, beautiful and smooth. Hovering above the ground, he was shoeless under the flowing purple robes, woven from some gossamer-like material. Yodan expected to discover the manner of his death. Payment for his lack of caution, but once again he was surprised. Emblazoned upon the glowing figures chest and hanging about his neck were the Symbols of Kalkeffa. His voice was quiet, soothing and yet Yodan heard him clearly, over the boom of the Ampli-Box. "Peace Yodan, son of Sargon the searcher. I have come in the name of he whom we both worship above all others. Not to end your life, but to set you upon the path to your destiny. Kalkeffa has chosen you to play a part in the Great Unfolding." "Your father has tempered you well, "he said soberly. Then donning a look of merriment continued," his raging passion is a glory in heaven, he has shaken the Saints from their age long apathy. Yes Yodan, "The Old General" as you call him sits with those at Kalkeffas' side and now the Holy Host is unified. For the first time in this age, we shall add our influence to the Great Unfolding. The Federation Magus believe Thrandor to be safe and their scryings are so deep and complete that they are unquestionably accurate, yet the planet will still perish and be so completely wiped of all creatures that nothing here shall survive. A great darkness will capture the world. We have seen the end to come. Yet, though Thrandor will surely perish, still it may live on to a greatness unexpected by the Gods of Darkness. Defeat equals victory, Darkness equals light and so hope still exists where there is none . Your father wrote his last manifesto on the subject, it lies within his study. You might find it enlightening. "Romanic's Conundrum," he named it for the ancient Kalkeffan philosopher who developed the theory that the sum total of all opposites creates the full spectrum of variation and thus perfect balance. "Keep your faith at hand in the days to come"* Then he was gone. Internally sighing, Yodan dropped his psionics, reached for the gauze and anti-infectant at his left hip. Maybe next week he would open a fruit stand. Slowly turning, he knelt back onto the crimson ground, to finish healing the wounded comrade. Thus was the return to his father's house finally accomplished.