Afrodelic
Loremaster
A band of Anjyarri making their way into the desert after the recent political upheaval in both Al-Jabrid and Al-Khadir.
“Let this be a lesson before true bloodshed begins.”
- From the Crown Loyalist's note to the people of Anjyarr
Allow these words to ring, dear people of Anjyarr. Heed each word, each letter, each syllable. Sit with them for a moment. For what does this refrain offer? How does it speak? To what ends do we arrive with these words? Their meaning, as we evidently know, are violent in their form. But I am troubled, dear people. Troubled by the “before” and caught by the “true.” I think with the supposed “lesson” and wonder what “bloodshed” even means for this writer. I tarry with “begins” and wonder if I am “let[ting] this be” in the way they ask. For the fact is simple, true bloodshed has long begun. And we find its very presence within the streets of Al-Jabrid.
Do these Crown loyalists fail to see? Or are they caught within the whims of their desire for massacre? To watch each person fall so that their Crown, which abandoned them so long ago now, still stands. I only wonder, how lost are these people? Do they even know beyond themselves? Do they have a self? To kill without even considering the death any true bloodshed. Now that, dear people, is the true tragedy. To not consider each life precious in its make. To not even consider what that loss entails for that man’s friends and family. To what he has done for Anjyarr through his work, his words, and his thoughts. Nay, he was not a consideration to these people beyond a mere message bound through blood. That, dear people, is the tragedy. A friend forgotten so that others can feel secure in their wants. Failing to see the people’s needs.
Word has yet to reach me on the friend’s name that has passed. I know the Temple will come to offer him his proper burial rites. But even still, I only wonder of the life that was taken. I cannot even consider knowing this friend, for he is lost to us by the very denial of his form. Burnt. Unidentified. All to state one message to the people. A message that has long been known: what is left of the near shattered Crown will not tolerate dissent. But dear people, to lose a friend over a fact that has bound us for generations? That is my concern. That is where I patiently sit in contemplation. I sadly cannot offer a true reflection on this Khadan friend of ours. For my words shall fail to even understand the beauty of his life. But he was one of us. Discarded with ease. Forgotten by those with power now. But we shall not forget this friend. Though he was not offered a voice, he still speaks. The winds offer his refrain. It is a matter of listening carefully. For he is not lost, he is bound to us now. I pray one day to know who this friend of ours was. But even if I never do, I know that his presence and death marks a powerful realization for the people, the Crown is afraid.
To kill one of our friends in cold blood? To offer this message while continuing to threaten our very ability to live? To hold no remorse for the death itself or the loss of more lives? This is the make of a people lost to their own avarice and pride. And on these terms, I cannot continue to stand by the sidelines any longer. The time has come, dear people, the time for change. We are not without our own power. We are not without our own will. We are not bound to toil without being heard. There is more to which we are not bound. But one thing is for certain, we are bound to the struggle. It is there that the grounds of this nation that is Anjyarr was truly founded. And it is on those grounds that I offer my words with the hope of change at heart. For we are not without choice, dear friends, not any longer. We have sown the seeds and the fruit is ripe in its make. Our freedom is imminent.
Dear people and my friends, I shall return to Anjyarr in one month. We shall honor this dear Khadan and the life he led. And we shall take Anjyarr by storm! For if his death is not true bloodshed, then I know not what true bloodshed is anymore. These loyalists want our blood flooding the streets. They want us to succumb to their violent and oppressive will. That will not do. I do not demand blood. I demand peace. I demand ease. I demand that the people be heard. And as such, I shall stand before you lot and offer myself as a the barrier against this false Sultan's unbridled power. I shall bear myself forward so that we, as a people, can stand united in this struggle. A struggle that has bound me for generations now. A struggle that shall free Anjyarr.
I stand with you Anjyarr. I march with you Anjyarr. I am with you Anjyarr.
Bound by the struggle,
One IC month = two OOC days. So on Sunday, Esebius returns to Anjyarr properly.