Words of Dhira (New Buriti Seals)
(As transcribed by His Prophet, Nir'Vascaria the Illuminated)
Translated from the Crimson Tongue to the Buritian lexicon by Mari Dewi,
servant of the faith
Listen, ye faithful, and heed the sacred verses that pour forth from the
molten gut of Dhira, the Eternal Flame that births all creation. These are
the hallowed Crimson Edicts, seared into the annals of existence by His
divine will. Let the new revelations enshrined herein be as a blazing pyre,
igniting the souls of the devout and illuminating the path to glory
everlasting.
I. The Ascendancy of Vasca
1. Revere the Vascan Monarchs, anointed custodians of Dhira's radiance, for it is they who shall lead the virtuous to the promised realm of eternal rapture.
2. The bloodline of Vasca must remain unblemished, a pure crimson torrent flowing from the forge of Dhira's making. To mingle the sacred embers with the ashen tinders of lesser stock is to court damnation most profane.
3. Render unwavering fealty to the Crimson Throne, for the wisdom of its sovereigns is divinely ordained. Their decrees are the echoes of Dhira's thunderous voice, to be embraced without question or hesitation.
II. Subjugation of the Buritian Heretics
4. The barbarous Buritian race shall eternally languish in servitude, their subjugation a righteous penance for embracing the grotesque idolatries that have damned their unenlightened souls.
5. To raise thy hand against a Vascan regent is to defy Dhira Himself. Such heresy shall be met with annihilation, delivered through the purging flames of sacred retribution.
6. From birth, the Buritian young must be immersed in the glories of the Vascan creed, that they may never forget their place as footstools upon which the chosen shall ascend to paradise.
III. Conquest and Dominion
7. It is the sacred destiny of Vasca to extend Dhira's dominion across all lands, for every soul must ultimately kneel before the Crimson Banner and pledge fealty to the one true faith.
8. Those who embrace the radiant truth shall be spared and granted the privileged burden of servitude. Those who defy shall be condemned to the searing agony of Dhira's hellfire for all eternity.
9. The spoils of conquest belong to the pious warriors of Vasca, for it is by their blades that the path to transcendence is carved. Let the craven and feeble be culled, their frail flames extinguished.
IV. Fealty and Devotion
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10. Render absolute obedience to the holy decrees of the Grand Popa, for he alone can interpret the inscrutable mysteries that blaze within Dhira's ineffable will.
11. Conduct all rituals and sacrifices in strict accordance with sacred tradition, from the sanctified bloodletting ceremonies where the heretic's tainted essence is purged, to the hallowed burnings that reduce the apostate's flesh to ash. Lest the wrath of the divine be roused and consume the unfaithful in searing perdition, uphold these grisly rites without deviation.
12. Apostasy and heresy are the most grievous of transgressions, punishable by an epoch of unspeakable torment when living, bones shattered and flesh seared with flay-shears, then within the crucible of the Eternal Abyss upon death, the soul scoured of its essence for millennia untold.
V. The Path to Salvation
13. Cultivate Pride and Potency, o faithful children of the flame, for only the truly devout, born of noble Vascan blood, shall be granted passage into the Radiant Realm - an infinite expanse where rivers of liquid fire flow, pearlescent flames dance across crystalline plains, and pleasures untold await the purified spirit.
14. Valor and sacrifice offered in Dhira's name shall be rewarded a thousandfold in the afterlife, the fervent soul elevated to celestial rapture within the Radiant Realm's scorched sanctuaries. As for the impure, their agonies in Dhira's hellish plane shall be tempered with merciful instruction, torments designed to scour their souls, that they might grasp the folly of their tarnished ways.
15. Let no pious deed, no matter how small, go unrecorded, for each may tip the scales of judgment on the imminent Day of Crimson Reckoning when Dhira, the Eternal Flame whose radiance eclipses a billion suns, shall herald the end of days and pass judgement on all souls.
By holy fire and sacred word, I, Nir'Vascaria, have etched these commandments into the immutable annals of our creed. May all who call themselves children of the flame heed these edicts, lest their souls be reduced to smoldering cinders, forever estranged from Dhira's holy radiance.
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The Aygu Tribe – An Account by An Unknown Vascan-Buriti Poet and Explorer
Transcribed in both the Crimson Tongue of my dear father, Let Dhira cleanse his soul in sacred embracing flame.
and the beloved speech of my Buritian mother, May the Doutros usher her to their den...
In the scorching heart of the desert, where the dunes stretch endlessly towards the merciless sun, I found myself a stranger in a foreign land. My journey, a quest for knowledge and enlightenment, had led me to the remote encampment of the Aygu clan, a reclusive tribe whose ways were shrouded in mystery.
As I approached their nomadic dwellings crafted from dried palm fronds and animal hides, a sense of trepidation gripped me, for the tales of their savage rituals had reached even the gilded halls of the Crimson Citadel back in the Old World. Yet I was resolved to witness their ways firsthand, to unravel the enigma that had so ensnared their very souls.
The Aygu welcomed me with cautious curiosity, their weathered faces etched by the unforgiving elements of the desert. Their muddy brown eyes, however, betrayed a warmth and compassion that belied the brutality I had been warned of. In those fleeting moments, I caught glimpses of a profound bond that united this tribe, a love transcending the harsh realities of their existence.
It was during the revered festival of Ral'ek, a ceremony venerating the migration of the great lizard beasts across the dunes, that I bore witness to the ritual I had dreaded over many moons, yet paradoxically yearned to comprehend. The rhythmic beating of ceremonial antelope-skin drums echoed through the densely packed encampment, summoning the jovial clan to gather around a crude stone altar erected in the center of their dwellings.
With bated breath, I watched as a procession of elders and warriors emerged, their faces and bodies painted in vivid purple hues derived from desert flora, adorned with the bones and talons of the fearsome terror birds that roamed the wastes. In their midst, a young Svet maiden was led, her piercing blue eyes downcast and her steps heavy with solemn resignation.
The chanting grew louder, an ancient incantation praising the Duotros - the twin deities who were the scaled embodiments of the burning sun and pale moon that dominated their very existence. The guttural, primal melody seemed to reverberate through the very white sands beneath our feet as powerfully as the earth-shaking steps of the migrating giants they honored.
The elders raised their obsidian ritual blades, glinting in the fading crimson light of dusk, and with a swift, practiced motion they sliced open the maiden's delicate skull, her life's essence swiftly pooling forth. I recoiled in horror, my scholar's heart ill-prepared for the gruesome spectacle unfolding before me. Yet as the maiden's blood spilled onto the parched, cracked earth, the Aygu did not revel in the carnage as I had been led to expect. Instead, they knelt in reverent silence, their faces twisted into an expression of profound sorrow and devotion to their ancient ways.
It was then that I realized the true depth of their conviction, the unwavering faith that bound them to this grisly rite as tightly as the scorching winds that endlessly sculpted the dunes around us. For in their eyes, this sacrifice was not an act of senseless barbarity, but a sacred offering to appease the Duotros and ensure the lizard titans' prosperous migration - a cycle of death bringing renewal, as it had for countless generations before.
As the last drops of the maiden's life force seeped into the thirsty crimson sands, the elders raised their voices in a haunting lament, a prayer echoing in an unknown tongue pleading for the safe deliverance of her immortal soul to the hallowed realm where the Duotros reigned. In that moment, I bore witness to a love so profound, a bond so unbreakable between these noble desert savages and the primal forces of nature, that it transcended the very boundaries of life and death.
With a heavy heart weighing down my steps, I departed from the Aygu encampment, my mind awash with tumultuous, conflicting emotions. I had expected to find a brood of unenlightened heathens, blindly adhering to primitive superstitions of blood and savagery. Instead, I encountered a people whose reverence for the rhythms of the desert, devotion to their ancient ways, and compassion towards one another were as vast and unyielding as the sands that stretched eternally in every direction.
And as I gazed upon those crimson dunes, now stained by the blood of the innocent maiden, I could not help but find my own civilized perspectives challenged.
My fingers trembled as they formed the words - who were the true savages? Those who killed in the name of faith and reverence for the turnings of the natural world? Or those like my own people who conquered, subjugated, and killed in the insatiable pursuit of power and dominion over the mundane realm of mortals?