The Binding (aka Tales of the Vishanti)

This is a fictional tale by Vishant, inspired by his adventures in GoKrida, and originally posted to the forums. The version presented here was edited by Dragyn for grammar and readability. Some of the characters in this tale are other major souls who Vishant knew in GoKrida; some others may be Vishant's minor souls.

The Binding: Ancient Tales of the Vishanti

Chapter 1: It begins...

Vishant and the Monks finally arrive at the Temple gate,the sun casting long shadows upon the ancient golden doors. They press jointly against it, as slowly it moves away under the strain of their efforts. The metallic hinges groan, echoing through the large open chamber.

The rainbow floor was comprised of shifting hues of color as they walked across the hall. The very earth itself felt alive. Nearing the altar they beheld the magnificence of the sight before them. A spiraling column of flame lay before them, rising far into the heavens. The companions looked at one another in nervous delight. Loh-ha the Monk gave Vishant a shove toward it, as the latter nervously moved forward. Glancing back from the corner of his eye Vishant could see the fearless fighting monks slowly edging back to the entrance. “Stand fast!” he bellowed, causing all five to freeze as if playing a children’s game.

At the altar Vishant prostrated himself before the myriad of colors at the base of the column. “What is thy bidding, Lord?” he prayed.

The earth rumbled and shook, as the pillar of flame exploded into a blinding white before the six companions! A wind-shattering voice erupted from the column and cried: “HEAR MY BIDDING, CHILDREN OF SKY, EARTH, LEAF, METAL AND WATER!” ......................................................later...................................................... Vishant and his faithful Monks burst forth from the gates of the ancient Temple, their eyes full with purpose. They thunder across the land, each astride legendary steeds of Yellow Moon. Vishant, at the head, now rides 'FireMane' Lord of the Sky Horses. He heads west to meet the Lords of Sky, Tututkhamen and the Ethereal Streben.

To Loh-ha the Metal Monk was given Khar-Taq, the Sword of Reckoning. He rides northwest to deliver the message to the kings of the Metal folk: Perprepro, Deadyou, Surge and Spike.

Darh-Tee the Earth Monk was given Arriy, the Scythe of Justice. He rides to enlighten the rulers of the Earth folk: the Lady Froggy, SCincuboy, and the Lady Gooey.

Am-rut the Water Monk held Tri-shul, the Trident of Truth. The wise Am-rut rode into the ocean and was gone. Sea folk too would hear the words spoken within the Temple: the Lady Sparrow, Lord Soccaplaya, and LordGarion.

Dur-gah the Leaf Monk now wields Dahn-ush, the Bow of Life. He would speak to the Leaf clans who await his arrival.

Chapter 2: The Fallen Lord's City

Two days of rest saw the color return to their cheeks, and their chapped lips and backaches had lessened considerably. Vishant and his three companions Wasik, Adnil, and Adnan has been traveling for days to reach the City they now entered. “We start today; each one of us will take a different part of the City.” Vishant commanded. The four Vishanti spent the whole day trying to muster aid, but they were always met with the same answers: “Our Lord will return soon and then we will be rid of the foul things that lurk in the shadows” or “No! The Lord BlueB lives!” Each of the Vishanti returned day by day, for a whole month had passed, and so had their hopes. Finally it was decided that Vishant would show the people the fate that had befallen their Lord.

The market place was busier this day. People haggling and laughing, children playing, and traders shouting on the benefits of wares they sold. Vishant stood where they all could see him: an execution platform in the center of the town. “Hear me, good people!” he shouted. “I have walked among you, I have told you of what is to come. Now I will show you...” Vishant put his hands on his forehead and pushed the image out of his head. He heard sudden screams of terror as the image took hold in the minds of the city folk.

“SORCERY AND LIES!” said a figure covered in a robe and hood, “KILL THEM!!!” The maddened crowd edged forward with hatred in their eyes. They loved the Lord who had kept them safe, kept them fed and strong. What had been shown them was a pitiful creature kneeling, swaying and staring vacantly at the dark presence in front of him. They then saw the fallen Lord bow, his eyes sunken, as he stood and was led away by the foul undead. Some had fled in fear, while others cried. The ones who listened to the cloaked figure were filled with rage.

The crowd was almost upon the Vishanti when a horn sounded at the entrance of the market gate. In strode a huge figure in black amour and helm, surrounded by armed guards. Vishant heard the people muttering that this was the Lord running the city in BlueB’s absence. The archers readied the bows to fire. “FFfffffire!” commanded the figure in black, with a serpentine grin. The arrows left their bows with a twang and spun towards the four Vishanti.

Suddenly, lightning from above crashed into every speeding arrow as the sky was charged with a static aura! All that were gathered looked about for the source of this sorcery. “There!” one of the city folk yelled, pointing at the sun. Descending with the grace of a hawk and speed of an eagle was a golden figure clad in shimmering silk robes, a jeweled chariot at his command. Another bolt of lightning flew down to move the crowd further back. The black armored figure with raised hands chanted at the Charioteer, but another bolt flew down and smote the man where he stood. The dark figure in the hood scurried away, but to no avail-- he quickly met the same fate.

“I am Tututkhamen,” boomed the golden Lord. “The Knight Vishant speaks truth, join us and save your lord. If you would refuse, watch all you hold dear fall into darkness!” “I didn’t think he would come,” said Vishant. “Our Monk must have reached him,” replied Wasik. "So how come you didn't do that, my Lord?" asked Adnan to which Adnil quietly replied "He's scared of heights," as they all continued to stare at the spectacle before them.

The Pharaoh Mage had arrived.

Chapter 3: Ambush!!

"My lord, we have but a day’s supplies and the troops tire by the hour," panted Wasik. "What do you suggest, councilor?" questioned Vishant. The encounter at the Sky Gate had worn the Vishanti into a state of fatigue. The swelling in the ranks of undead dis-heartened them only further. One final sortie was decided upon, an attack from three sides that would deliver a heavy blow to the enemy. This final attack broke the army of the undead into small pockets of resistance that could be dealt with easily another time.

"General Meelak, prepare to move out, we head west for an abandoned farm just east of JBabylon village." The Vishanti rode west-- at first only cantering. As the stench of war and the rotting corpses was left behind, their spirits lifted and the pace quickened. At nightfall they made camp and rations were handed out. "We can and should head directly west, my lord, the swiftest route," Meelak tapped the map to emphasise the point. “It has changed greatly since the date of its making. Rumour has it that it is now a lawless, baron-ruled place," argued Adnan, his brow furrowed, showing his frustration. “We have food for one day’s journey, and any other route will take twice if not three times that!” countered Meelak. “We are Vishanti, we do not fear the burn of hunger or the longer ride.” “Oh! But, you run from a few former farmers,” was the retort from the old General. Adnan reached for the hilt of his sword, his face red with rage. “ENOUGH!! We ride west through the desert seed farmlands!”

At sunrise, the silhouettes of riders could be seen moving away into the horizon. The morning turned to afternoon and afternoon into early evening, the pace slow and unhurried. “My lord, we have entered the farmlands,” informed Wasik. “Thank you, councilor,” acknowledged Vishant. For miles ahead, the air carried the aroma of spoiled desert seeds from the abandoned fields. A scout returned to report his findings: “All clear ahead, my lord. Just a small band of farmers huddle around a fire, a few miles west. Sire,” saluted the dusty haired rider. The camp was as described-- two dozen farmers or so, gathered about a fire. The decision to rest a while was welcomed by all, and the party settled down sharing what was left of the meagre rations with the farmers. “What is that noise, Adnil?” Adnan inquired. A scout rider came into view. Something was wrong; he was slumped over. “Lazy son of a sleeping toad! The horse has obviously wandered back as he slept,” insulted Adnil. There was a surreal silence as the rider fell in what can only be described as a slowed time. The silence was shattered by the second rider bounding over the brow of the hill. “AMBUSH!!……..AAaarrrgghhh!!!!!!” he screamed as the arrow pierced his throat, silencing him forever.

The few encamped farmers turned on those handing out the rations, but these were Vishanti children, bred in the heat of battle and hardened by travel and sorrow. Many a farmer fell to the swift counter-blows they delivered, before fleeing. The Vishanti, as if in a well rehearsed dance, formed five squares of nine people each. One captain commanded each square, and Lord Vishant was the choreographer. The first wave was brought down by Adnil’s troops. A flurry of arrows flew, seconds later another, then another. Adnan formed the frontline attack: shields covering all sides and swords thrust from between the gaps in them. Many died trying to break the iron porcupine in vain. Wasik threw shards of piercing ice at the maddened people heading towards him. Meelak rode with Adnor straight into the frenzy, hacking and chopping on their way, and having reached the end they started back in the same manner. The crest of Vishanti was no longer visible for the blood and sinew that covered it. Still they came…..

Long into the night they fought. Muscles burned with every new blow, joints moaned in protest, but none would falter, none would give in to pain, fatigue, or despair-- for these were Vishanti warriors. The leader of the bandit army stood far behind; he had not anticipated such quick retaliation from the travellers. Wasik saw him. “Amethyst, Ruby, and Sapphire BLUE! May vengenance run my enemy through!” A staff of blazing colour left his hand and streaked across the desert. All stopped in amazement as it lit the night sky, finally burying itself in the bandit horseman's chest far in the distance. Meanwhile, distracted Adnor was stabbed by a rusty blade wielded by a crudely armoured mercenary, and he fell dead. The assailants, leaderless, took flight for the hills... The Vishanti chased and hunted down each and every one, leaving none alive.

Adnan, Adnil, and Adnai mourned their father, the two brothers holding their sister in a quiet and solemn vigil. Vishant knelt, letting the last few grains of soil fall slowly on his mentor’s grave.

A messenger arrived and whispered in Vishant’s ear. He stood, and anger filled his voice. “A fellow Lord has been dishonoured with profanities! We collect what food we need...then, we ride south!”

So was the Vishanti way, honour and friendship above all else.

Chapter 4: A Place Called Home

The Vishanti travelled west to Rainbow Trickster farm, where they found a warm welcome. The people there spoke of bygone days and happier times, when food was plenty and the surrounding lands were peaceful. After resting and sating hunger and weariness a full two months had passed. Sufficient supplies had been gathered; it was time to resume the search for a homestead. The villagers advised caution, for the Lord Jaquin of Babylonia, known mockingly as JBaby, governed many lands here. Rumours spread of his ties to dark forces.

Seven days travel saw them out of the plains, and the signs of civilisation were more frequent: a house here, a tavern or the odd smaller settlement there. On entering the main settlement, Wasik pointed out the guards, who were watching every move the Vishanti made. The village seemed to be uneasy. The usual hustle and bustle was absent. "Well, isn't this nice and quiet?" Adnil remarked. All that knew him would understand the meaning as “So, all hell is about to let loose.” They had cleared the outer defences when a dozen guards stepped in front of them, lowering the pikes they were carrying, bringing the party to a halt. "By order of Jaquin, Overlord of these lands, and soon the World: All shall swear fealty to him and proclaim him Lord...or die."

"Now listen here! You poorly-made puppet, this is no way to treat a fellow Sky Lord!" bellowed Wasik. "It's fine, let me..." Vishant was cut off mid-sentence, realising that the guards had turned and walked away. "A strange lot-- are they not, my Lord?" Adnan commented as he swivelled his head to mark the direction of an imminent attack. The doors of a large building ahead opened, and a rider exited followed by many dozens of guards. They approached the front of the Vishanti company and halted several yards away. “Do you yield to my will, Knight Lord of the Vishanti, or shall I slay thee where you stand?” The large hulking figure of the Commander reined the horse as he spoke. Even it could sense the impending battle. “We have no quarrel with you, Lord Jaquin. We need food and rest and shall be on our way,” answered Vishant. The few remaining farmers scurried away at hearing this reply.

“Then I shall pick a quarrel with you, knight, and enslave your followers!” The dark Commander raised his hands and started to chant. Strange arcs of yellow pivoted between his fingers. Wasik recognised the force bolt building and warned the company: “On guard! Domed formation!” The Vishanti lowered and raised their shields, forming a cocoon, and assailed headlong the opposing troops. Most of the Babylonian soldiers scattered, and the few standing firm were slain by the tail end of the moving metal dome. Battle was finally joined. Adnan and Adnil appeared to onlookers as though in a ballet, so in tune did they move, with precise movements slaying all who challenged them. Vishant rode through battle, slicing and hacking-- the battle rage had taken root, as in past lives within the realms of Chaos. A yellow spark bolt flew toward Vishant, and Skymane gracefully stepped out of danger without breaking Vishant’s line of attack.

Another spark broke free from the fingertips of the Commander and headed for Adnan and his sibling. Vishant was panicked and held out his hand. “NOoooo!!” As he did so, a flash of lightning left his hands and struck the Babylonian commander square in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Wasik muttered a holding spell and cast it-- the commander was paralysed. On seeing the fall of their mighty leader, the soldiers ceased their attack. “We are finally free of the tyrant!” announced one soldier. “We urge you, Lord Vishant-- end this wretch where he lies!” cried another. More and more people poured into the streets and offered food and all their precious belongings to the Vishanti, who refused, looking in disbelief to their Lord. “We only ask that you accept us as fellow brothers and allow us to call this place home.” There was much rejoicing and merriment for many days. The Lord Jaquin had been imprisoned.

The Vishanti had found a place to call home.

Chapter 5: The First Farewell

Found in the hands of a wounded Vishanti boy:

The children pulled away from their weeping mothers and eventually made their way back to their positions alongside the warriors of the Vishanti. They drew their half-swords and light skin-shields with hardened faces, awaiting the clash with the approaching hordes. The women folk donned the shining steel helms and armour as did the old.

“Look at the Lord Vishant! No man could ask for a more loyal people. None have taken the option to flee east. They shed no more tears,” said Adnil. “We have lived a full measure in a short time,” responded Adnan. “We have lived well,” added Adnil. “We’ll yet take some of the Dark Lord’s mongrels before we go, I’ll wager a month’s salary on that.”

Vishant looked on, and could not help but think of all that could have been for his people. He spoke to his people from the hillside: “The children can attempt to get over the plains to the village whilst we delay the attack, if they so wish.” To which the unified voices of angels replied like a choir: “We stay, Vishanti Lord!”

Vishant continued: “Ready your blades, my Kith and Kin, let us show these so-called mighty warriors the meaning of honour! And let our children show them the meaning of bravery! To those who have betrayed us, we leave the curse of our return; To those who would be believed mighty, we shall die calling them cowering dogs of evil, snivelling servants of cowards!” “And may he fall into the Darkness of his own Making!” shouted Adnan to which he could not resist adding “May the wheels of the Pharaoh’s Chariot fall off, may Thor’s Hammer lose its handle!” Wild cheers and laughter filled the plains. “We the Vishanti make our stand! To honour and the Vishanti!” The Vishanti raised swords and hailed “To Honour and the Vishanti!” The hordes came over the hills and the Vishanti were overwelmed. A veil of darkness spread over them; the Vishanti were no more……………….

Frantic and swirling mists finally formed; a recognisable group ventured forth from it!

The search is finally over...after departing the Arcadian realms of Chaos, destruction, Quake, and Unreal torments, an Arch-Angel desended upon me and I awoke to the glow of two blue moons. Is this Valhalla, Heaven, Almeria, or just another Chapter in the unending battle between Good and Evil? I realise now that I am again Flesh & Blood; beyond, an ancient forest beckons me to venture onward.

“My lord Vishant, you look different, you’re green!” said the amazed Wasik. To which Adnan added, “You don’t look so good yourself!”

Epilogue: Thundering on Yellow Moon

Having recovered from the long and strenuous task of ousting the disillusioned Lord Garion and his Demi-God mentor, whose name is not spoken, the Alliance celebrated with much feasting, dancing, and merriment to remember. Even Wasik was seen tapping his foot to the light hearted tunes. Froggy and Anabel were practicing biscuit- and cake-throwing accuracy on KiOfSiRiJS, who glared at them angrily every time one of them struck him. Dragyn was busily trying to force-bolt an apple again, which exploded into millions of fragments, to the amusement of those gathered. After many days of jovial antics the gathering dwindled as many left to continue their tasks.

Many weeks passed and the Vishanti villages grew, increasing in numbers. There had been talk of Lord Garion’s rampages on Blue Twin and Vishant was getting restless, having no avenue to help those he called friends. Wasik would have none of it, reminding Vishant that this portal business would never catch on and it was far too dangerous.

The news reached the Village of Yellow Emperor from the Leaf Monk, who told of a foul servant of the unspoken one. He was massacring the very people who had carried him to re-incarnation from Lower Heaven to Blue Twin. The war-banners were raised and the Vishanti thundered across the plains. A herald would join every now and then with tidings of other tribes from the Alliance. The Alliance was on the move: Across the plains, the Pharaoh Mage’s golden chariot gleamed, the fiery breath of Sky Lord Dragyn could be seen high above the clouds, Lord Tedbornottob stood above a mighty tidal wave as it crashed toward the leaf gate, and the Priest-Mage Sacred was reported to be gathering forces in the southern hemisphere.

The Lady Skajunma had been mediating a land dispute between two allies when the news of a second invader arrived in the form of a scroll. The Monk had been heavily disguised, but Skajunma was not fooled; her keen sense of telepathy had notified her of Darh-tee the Earth Monk before he even entered the room. She rose, looked at the two rambling Lords, and in a cool manner announced: “Good afternoon gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.” They looked at each other and turned towards where she had stood. Nothing! Just vapours of steam and the scent of wild water-orchids.

Lady Starlyte was admiring a painting by some other-worldly artist whose subject was a lady in a gigantic clam shell, with flowing hair. “She looks like you, my lady.” The voice startled her and with the speed of a raging torrent she grasped the hooded figure and hurled him to the floor. Instead of the usual thud and groan of pain she expected, there was only a scroll in a tiny pile of earth. Upon reading, the Lady Starlyte called her trusted dolphin steeds and rode out on Kestei, the mythical craft of Poseidon, like a mighty gale.

Miloice looked up into the heavens, clouds gathered, and he felt the earth beneath him shake. "Livash! What is this!? I have not cast Unform!" he shouted above the thunder that now erupted all around. The underling replied nervously, "The ground below you shakes... shakes due to them... they come and their rage is unforgiving, unrelenting, and unvented, my lord. The sky above that has started tormenting us is due to HIM!" He pointed at the metal titan that chanted to the air, magnificent and majestic as he raged. "It's Thor!!!" “And who are these others, you pathetic excuse for a lacky!?" boomed the pillager, as he struck Livash a backhand across the cheek. "They are doom! They are the THUNDER ON YELLOW MOON! Ha ha ha haaa hhhhhaaaa!!!" Lavish cried out hysterically, a bolt of lightning silencing him forever!