The REAL reason for the Dioist war on Arrgh...

[Spite]

 

Punjab, Pakistan. 11 years ago

 

Around the fire, the dark eyes of the youths glinted. Green robes and sharp swords marked them as initiates, not yet ready for full membership of the Dioist front lines, but eager for battle. Amongst them sat an old whitebeard, his muscles stringy and eyes watery. His hands were gnarled like old tree branches, and every few minutes he tossed another branch into the fire, appreciative of it’s warmth now in a way he never was as a young man.

 

“Gather round, my young swords,†the old man began. “Listen now to the tales of my youth, when the worlds were young, and Dio still walked amongst us as both man and Godâ€

 

Silence hovered after every pause the old man made. Young and strong the audience was, but they knew the wrath of the old man was not to be underestimated. One of Dio’s three hundred, he was a master of weapons such as all of them aspired to be some day.

 

“Listen carefully…â€

 

 

Once, long ago, the Pakistani people were made from the Holy Sands of Pakistan. And when they rose, they were alone. Over time they realised that beyond the boundaries of their holy desert others had arisen. Some were tainted by snow; and the devils that lived in the arctic wastes were anathema to the good people of Pakistan. Others were merely men, not great but with the potential for greatness.

 

As time went on, many of these men made pilgrimages to the Holy Land and dwelt amongst the Pakistanis. Friendships were formed and men and indeed women from foreign lands converted to the Dioist faith, meeting Dio and recognising in him the greatness that all Pakistanis knew. The people rejoiced at the first converts, and as faith took hold, so the Holy Sand responded to those converts as it did to true born Pakistanis.

 

As time passed, war came to the world. The foul stench of the frozen North blew ever southward, corrupting many with notions of avarice and greed. The Pakistanis in their desert fastness were protected by the implacable hand of Dio, and were not affected by this plague. Their friends however, new converts and believers all, were swept aside by this new menace. Their cries of anguish reached Dio in the heart of his desert palace, and he assembled his three hundred finest warriors, and he spoke to them.

 

‘Our brothers and sisters outside the Land are suffering. We must not let them stand alone. Who amongst you will lead my people and take up the banner of war, driving the enemy forth?’

 

Of course there were many brave volunteers, but one amongst the many impressed Dio with his valour and loyalty: For it is known that Dio can see the hearts of all men. So Dio said to this one, ‘Rise Falcon’, and thus he rose.

 

In front of the assembled ranks of Pakistan, Dio raised his hands. From the purest sand of creation he spun forth a sword of such power that the faithful shielded their eyes from its glare. With an edge sharper than diamond, it weighed less than the air itself. No snow-born creature could stand against it and the men cheered as Falcon took it up, for they knew no enemy could stand against them.

 

Now let me tell you a known truth- although many Dioists today are seafarers, the Pakistanis of old were not. Safe in their desert, the sea to them was a strange beast. They knew the sky, and the land, and the darkness of the stars, but not the sea. However Falcon knew that to reach the battlefield he must take his men by sea. So he summoned the finest carpenters of the age, and with their skill they built a great fleet. With that great fleet, the Dioists sailed to the far North.

 

There, for many months, they fought. Aye, I was there. No, I will not speak of it- but you may imagine it. The ice cold breath of hell on you every moment, only the fire of Dio to keep you going. Pray that you never face such a thing.

 

When the fighting was done, and the Dioists, victorious and jubilant, boarded their ships, much celebration and joy was spread. A hundred times along the great voyage back to Holy Pakistan they stopped to celebrate their victory. At each stop men got off and spread the joy of Dio to new lands, safe now under his hand.

 

Finally, the fleet arrived in the Indian ocean. However, as they approached the shore a great storm arose, with waves a hundred feet high or more, and like the dark maw of some great shark the sea came for them. Facing down the waves was no more evil than facing the glaciers and ice-storms of the North, and the loyal Pakistanis braved the worst weather. As the storm grew, the fleet became separated, and each ship struggled in their mad dash for shore and safe harbour.

 

Finally the storm settled, and the Dioists made landfall. One by one their ships landed, until at last only one was missing. Falcon’s own ship had gone, and was never seen again. One month to the day after the last ship made landfall, Falcon walked up out of the sea. His eyes had turned from inky black to deepest blue, and he would never speak of what had befallen him in the icy realms of the ocean deep. Only one thing was known for sure.

 

Somewhere, in the ocean depths, he had left behind his sword.

 

 

Around the fire, dark eyes gleamed, and behind one set of eyes a young man dreamed of the sea, and of another. A dark eyed warrior who had heard the call of Dio and come back a green eyed Prophet.

 

That night the young man dreamed, and in his dream he saw the bright blue sky, the deep blue sea, and beyond it all, he heard the voice of Dio.

 

This story has no real beginning and no real end, but as far as beginnings go, it is as much to say that this boy’s dream was it. The next morning he woke, cast off his initiate’s robes, and walked out of the camp, and the desert, and the world.

 

For eleven long years he was gone, until one day, like Falcon before him, he came walking from the sea.

 

 

Punjab, Pakistan. Present day.

 

“Oh that we understand the minds of those

driven by Dio

out beyond the sands.

Pray their guidance

his forebearance

that they may gain wisdom

and survive to pass it on.â€

~ Dioist prayer, author unknown

 

 

At the centre of the great deserts of Pakistan lies a city of stone and iron, baked by the burning hot sun of central Asia. Surrounded by shifting sands, this mighty citadel was assembled by Dio himself in a single day. It is here, surrounded by the most holy artifacts of the faith, that the High Priesthood of Dio gather to debate matters of law and the guidance of the People. It is here that the great God Emperor himself is known to appear.

 

Here in this sanctum of sanctums a man stands. His hair is cut short, and his beard shaven. His eyes are a deep black and his skin weather beaten and pale. To all in the room he seems an outsider, but he has shown the articles of faith that only a Pakistani born Dioist knows. Facing a silent ring of bearded priests, he begins his story.

 

 

I was fourteen and in my final year at the madrasat almuharib when I heard the call. I slept a deep and dream-filled sleep, and I saw the dark sky and the moon hanging over the ocean. In my dream I heard for the first time the voice of Dio, and he commanded me to seek out the ocean’s depths. He told me that the alqadr, the course of my life, would take me to many foreign lands, and I would face mighty trials as the warriors of old. He told me that my reward would be further suffering and pain, and eventually my death. I set out the next day.

 

I walked across the deep deserts of Pakistan without encountering another soul, and made my way through forests and jungles until I found myself at the sea. As I stared out across the vastness of it, I realised that it to was a desert of another kind.

 

For a week I waited there for my destiny, drinking water from a stream I had dammed and eating wild animals I caught with my sling.

 

At the end of the week, I saw sails on the horizon and within a few hours small rowing boats landed on my shore. The men there were tall and had light hair and eyes. Wary that they may be Unspeakable Ones from the North, I approached them. They were shocked at first to see me, but after some time we found common tongue in the language of the West. They were traders from the Netherlands, a nation from far away which did not know the word of Dio. They had made landfall to replenish their water on their long journey to the East.

 

When they came to leave they offered me a place on their ship and shared food and drink with me. I agreed and that same day I left the Holy Land behind to begin my journey.

 

 

We travelled first to the Indies, and then to far-away China, to the dark side of South America and to wild Africa. Across the world their mighty ship, De Reis, travelled. At first I had the most difficult and dangerous jobs; to scale the rigging and change sails. My youthful build allowed me to reach higher than the full grown men.

 

In time my skills were recognised, and I grew as ship’s quartermaster, then second mate. Five years after my travels began I became first mate, and two years after that the Company selected me as captain of a new ship they had commissioned, De Vliegende Oosterling. Despite my success and my happiness, I still did not see the path that Dio had made for me.

 

Our maiden voyage was to be to deliver a fresh load of munitions and supplies to a Company outpost in the Caribbean. Our stores full to bursting, the huge ship sailed from the harbour- it was a proud moment. I see your confused faces at my love for a ship, when all you love is blades. But that is the way of the sea, it entrances you.

 

Well, my love affair was not to last.

 

A hundred miles South and East of landfall we sailed directly into a storm, one of the mighty beasts the Westerners call a hurricane. It drove us before it, ripping the mainmast clear from the deck and killing half the crew. After hours of battle, we managed to slide out around it and limp back towards shore- any shore. Our trial, however, was not over. On the way we encountered two ships flying the black flag, and were boarded. The crew were exhausted and could barely keep the ship afloat- out of all the men only I fought.

 

 

I was driven back toward my cabin and knocked unconscious. They killed all my men, but for some reason they spared me.

 

When I woke I was tied to the mainmast and another storm had risen. From where I hung I could only hear fragments of shouted commands, but it seemed they were fleeing much as we had. The ship, loaded now with goods from my captured merchantman, was heavy in the water. I watched as the crew threw the least valuable items over the side. Despite their efforts, the storm gained.

 

Oh my mouth is dry thinking of that storm, bitter cold and driven from god knows what hell. I felt the cold breath of snow on the back of my neck and thought of my ancestors fighting as the old man had told me. For two long weeks they battled that storm, and I hung with no food or water. Each night I slept thinking it was my last, and each morning I woke renewed, the fire of Dio burning in my veins.

 

When the storm finally ended, the captain sent a man to cut me down and toss me out to sea. He nearly died of fright when I laughed in his face. The men saw me as an omen- they believed that I was a sea spirit and I had preserved them. I told them that the fire of Dio had kept me alive, and a fear came into their eyes- it seemed that they at least had encountered my brethren.

 

In a reversal of fate, I was given fine clothes and a cabin, and through my days I followed the Captain like a mascot. In my travels I had picked up many languages, and I proved useful to the Captain- reading captured charts and the like. Once or twice on his journeys I even negotiated with prisoners to find hidden cargo in exchange for their lives. The pirates could be cruel, but they were honest- their bargains were kept in good faith.

 

For three years we travelled the sea, and I learned all my skills again- for despite their great skill the Dutch traders didn’t live at sea as these pirates did. It seemed that their ship was held together by raw skill and hope alone, for it was the most shabby and ancient craft I had seen. Every tiny fraction of speed that could be gained was gained, every corner that could be cut was. I once saw that ship turn ninety degrees almost on its own keel to better catch a passing vessel. It was more than seamanship, it was magic.

 

Now the pirates of the ocean are not a people like we are, but rather a collection of peoples. Each ship is like a tiny kingdom, and on the ship the captain is king. They come from all realms, and yes there are even Dioists amongst them. Unlike kingdoms of old, people come and go as they will, and the places they do that are called Sanctuaries. Pirate towns, the Sanctuaries are places where goods can be fenced, men can ship out or rest, and information is exchanged.

 

On the final year of my travels with the Pirates, I went to shore with the Captain in a Sanctuary town north of Madagascar in Africa. A smokier, dirtier cesspit is not known than a pirate Sanctuary, and this was no exception. The one place of character in the town was a vast Inn called the Monkey’s Nut, where Captains and their seconds would go to exchange information, drink and conspire.

 

 

That day when we arrived we found only one captain and a quiet bar, which was unusual at any time of the day. The lone captain explained to us that for the first time in many decades, a great ingathering had been called by the Grand Admiral of the Pirate Fleet, and all of the Captains were heading back to the Caribbean to hear what had pushed him to doing so. My Captain was angry, since we were due to head East into the Indies and there was scant pickings in the West. Go we did, however.

 

It took us over a month to reach the Caribbean, and the men were mutinous by the time we arrived. Finally we pulled into the great Pirate City of Ogdagonia, hidden in the depths of a rocky chain of islets. The men tumbled overboard like a nest of rats fleeing a sinking ship and we made our more dignified exit later. The Captain was wearing his best, and insisted that I do so as well. He had the ship’s cook-an excellent man with a blade of any sort- shave me and cut my hair short in the fashion of the West. I dressed in stolen finery and we made our way to this great meeting.

 

Through wide paved streets we walked, flanked by great statues- actually the figureheads of ships taken by the Pirates of the City. The Grand Admiralty was a single story building, modest in its height but wide and deep. Inside the floors were polished oak and the ceilings were high and beamed. Light shone smokily through grey windows and oil lamps hung from hooks placed evenly along the walls. Walking down the corridors of this dark palace, I realised that the amount of wealth that flowed to build a place like this would be comparable to that of most nations. I reassessed the loose power base of these pirates and realised that despite the chaos, there was some order there.

 

Finally we arrived in the meeting hall of the Admirality- a vast room with tiered seating on three sides, like a colosseum. Along the fourth side a series of chairs sat, one larger and more throne-like than the others. We took our place in the front row of the seating, and slowly more and more Captains arrived. Finally the admiralty filed in, and the Grand Admiral addressed us.

 

 

It was war, he told us. We would be fighting a great battle against another people, who had grown weak and was an easy target. To succeed though would require many ships and the cooperation of many crews. There was great interest in this, for despite their fractitious nature the pirates loved to fight and they loved to loot. Their people are united by greed- only their hatred of organisation frees them from the curse of the Northern Terror.

 

When the meeting ended, the Captains began to leave. As we stood however, the Grand Admiral approached us and asked my Captain to attend him in his quarters. My Captain followed the Admiral from the room, and as was my custom I followed him. When we arrived in his quarters I found a room full of marvels from through the known world, collected by admiral after admiral since the first pirates sailed in ancient times.

 

The Admiral explained that the war would require information, and that our ship had proved masterful at reconnaissance and identifying the soft underbelly of potential targets over the past few years.

 

As he outlined the plan however, I began to feel a deep pulsing within my chest. At first I panicked, fearing poison or some other nefarious action on behalf of the Admiral. However he continued to talk in measured tones and I realised that if he wanted me killed, he would simply order his men to finish me. I closed my eyes and concentrated. As soon as I closed my eyes, I realised that despite the darkness of the room, I could see a glowing shape. Opening my eyes, I stared into the darkness of the room.

 

On the wall of this chamber hung an ancient piece of board, as if from a wrecked ship.

 

On that board hung a great sword.

 

The sword of Falcon.

 

Oh yes, I hear you gasp. That which was lost has been found, and it is in Ogdagonia!

 

 

 

“Many still speak of that prize

(That Holy Prize!)

Given by the hand of the God

Intended for holy reprise

In the depths of the sea, it lies

(forgotten, forgotten…)

Who knows when,

once more

it will rise?â€

Dioist Hymn, GnolTac the Unlyrical, 4th century AD (after Dio)

 

 

Ah, the Sword of Falcon. Whispered of for generations as the mightiest of weapons. Not more than steel in the hand of the unbeliever, but the surest and most powerful weapon in existence if in the hand of a true believer. One of the most holy relics of Dioism, one of the few items to be made from the True Sand after Creation. Every Dioist in the world would fight for it’s recovery, and now it has been found.

 

When that young boy, who became a sailor, then a pirate, laid eyes on the sword- well it was all he could do not to jump and seize it immediately. The hardest of things, to see your destiny and to turn away. For he knew that whilst he could take the sword, he would never escape alive. So he bided his time, and slipped overboard, and swam to shore, and walked back across the merciless desert, and back into the World.

 

What now?

 

Za Warudo

 

It must be war.

 

 

 

 

tl;dr coming to reclaim our ancient heritage

[Fox Fire]

You really expect me to read all that?

[Dwemyrn]

We need a TL;DR because lazy

[Fox Fire]

 

We need a TL;DR because lazy

 

No, there's already one of those.

[Dwemyrn]

No, there's already one of those.

Then why complain, if you saw it? I didn't. XD

[Spite]

I don't expect you to do anything, except reroll every time you get pwned.

[Fox Fire]

Well war has literally never made me reroll, so good luck. 

[Spite]

Sure sure... I remember I rolled you back when I started. Now look at my nation and look at your embarrassment of a nation.

[Fox Fire]

I've come and gone from this place since before you even knew what it was. Don't feel special just because I left one time long after you rolled my alliance, I rebuilt, joined a different alliance, and later quit playing. That had absolutely nothing to do with you, but I suppose if you have to be like Raedel and feel important for something.

You can have as many pixels as you want. If I cared about that, I wouldn't have left several times over.

[Spite]

In other words you're shit at the game, congrats.

[Fox Fire]

In other words you're shit at the game, congrats.

I'm sorry my pixels do not appropriately reflect the size of my Epeen?

 

If I took Orbis seriously enough to enforce my own doctrine, you'd know. Me and my allies ruled this planet long before most of the names you know existed here, thank you. You do make it tempting to pursue ambition, but I'm not interested in governing. At least not for now.

[PigInZen]

Za Warudo!

[Spite]

I'm sorry my pixels do not appropriately reflect the size of my Epeen?

 

If I took Orbis seriously enough to enforce my own doctrine, you'd know. Me and my allies ruled this planet long before most of the names you know existed here, thank you. You do make it tempting to pursue ambition, but I'm not interested in governing. At least not for now.

 

I'm so impressed by what, your ability to do something in a different game? "This planet" has been in its current format for 500 days and shortly after arriving we utterly whomped you. If we're bragging about our achievements in previous games, I think pretty much all of Mensa can beat you.

[Fox Fire]

I'm so impressed by what, your ability to do something in a different game? "This planet" has been in its current format for 500 days and shortly after arriving we utterly whomped you. If we're bragging about our achievements in previous games, I think pretty much all of Mensa can beat you.

No I'm talking about this game, smart one. The one you call Orbis, the name I came up with. I bet you didn't know that one either. As for achievements, I can't honestly be surprised if an entire community has more achievements that simply me. You're trying to undermine me and it's not working. At least the people who know anything about me can actually give me some painful criticism. 

Edited January 17, 2016 by Fox Fire

[Isolatar]

A pretty good read.

 

Wryy! (?)

[Spite]

As individuals, more than half our alliance have led communities bigger than the entire of Orbis active population. You're just a shit player, with nothing to your name but a lot of butthurt whining

[Rozalia]

I commend Spite on writing this out. As good as it is though nothing will beat Raedel thinking their "New World Order" has anything to do with this.

[Fox Fire]

As individuals, more than half our alliance have led communities bigger than the entire of Orbis active population. You're just a shit player, with nothing to your name but a lot of butthurt whining

I can see how you, the leader of countless AAs, and a community you claim is bigger than all of Orbis, the most well known pseudo intellectual on PaWs half retarded debate forums are so much much better at a game I've not even been consistent with. Please tell me more about all of that which makes you feel good and how I care oh so much.

Fact is, I'm outspoken. But I don't care to lead anything.

If you think your opinion or status in this game has any effect on my own then I invite you to prove it. 

[Spite]

I can see how you, the leader of countless AAs, and a community you claim is bigger than all of Orbis, the most well known pseudo intellectual on PaWs half retarded debate forums are so much much better at a game I've not even been consistent with. Please tell me more about all of that which makes you feel good and how I care oh so much.

Fact is, I'm outspoken. But I don't care to lead anything.

If you think your opinion or status in this game has any effect on my own then I invite you to prove it. 

So basically you're a loudmouthed peon.

[Fox Fire]

So basically you're a loudmouthed peon.

Like you? Sort of. Only a lot cooler.

[Spite]

Like you? Sort of. Only a lot cooler.

 

Sure, because calling yourself cool is the first sign of being cool. Like me, except you're rubbish at the game and your redeeming factor in any war is you're too irrelevant for anyone at your actual level of game experience to be able to fight. 

[Kurdanak]

 

All war negotiations should be conducted through Spite and Fox Fire, in public.

[Licorice]

All the sass in this thread lol

 

Spite = Orbis's greatest writer

[Fox Fire]

Sure, because calling yourself cool is the first sign of being cool. Like me, except you're rubbish at the game and your redeeming factor in any war is you're too irrelevant for anyone at your actual level of game experience to be able to fight. 

I've lost one war since I've been back. And that wasn't from you, but Odd Squad. Mostly because it was 3 on 1 and I was beiged before I even logged in- the first time I decided not to check the game for a whole day. Everyone else who has attacked me has been destroyed thus far. 

Look, I'm not going to claim to be the best at this game, or even an expert. I've been here longer than most of you, for sure. But I'm 100% sure that many people here know more than I do. You however are not someone I think I need to take any shit from. If you think your epeen is that much bigger then drop all that infra and come play. You certainly aren't the first to criticize me for whatever reason, but you could be the first to get it all wrong. I've been criticized for many things, but "you suck at the game" hasn't been one yet.  Anyone at my level likely has little experience in this game, so I would agree that it's probably not much of a fight. 

You seem to be very fond of measuring ones epeen with how many pixels they have. I apologize for not being in your range. You could always sell your pixels, but I suppose that would shrink your dick, wouldn't it?

Edited January 17, 2016 by Fox Fire

[Eric]

Go Mensa! Nice read btw, whoever wrote this has a pleasant style of writing.

 

o7 Mensa

 

For once... Pride! Power! Pakistan!