The Nomad of Jerusalem
Satan watches all of us
Smiles- as some do his bidding
Try to escape the grasp of my hand
And your life will no longer exist
Hear our cry, save us from
The hell in which we live
We turn our heads toward the sky
And listen for the steel
Die by the sword…
Slayer, Die By The Sword
CHAPTER 2: Bahuksana
There is a massacre in the Orient. Monk’s bodies are strewn in pools of blood. Only three survive. One is kneeling, meditating and sorrowful for the early departing of his spiritual brothers. A cold steel blade from a sword rests on his neck. Small contingents of warrior assassins in black garb loom around him in formation, awaiting orders. Two monks are hidden inside the walls of the temple protecting relics, scrolls and a certain weapon they have named Bahuksana which stands for “enduring much” in Buddhist.
It is now ten years after the death of The Prince. The Nomad is successful in spreading the trinkets he made to a select group of world leaders, the Kings. Each was given strict orders to protect their weapons at all cost and to reveal the secrets of their particular weapon to only one suitable successor preceding the moment of their death. Other acts of Kings were written in manuscripts to protect the secrets and weapons- some explained maintaining strict physical and mental readiness and abstaining from dangers in order to preserve the Kings from an untimely death. An accidental loss of the weapons and its secrets would be catastrophic. Only the Nomad and his niece Selaya know of the exact names of the Kings and cities in which the weapons were taken.
“Monk, before you die I will give you one more opportunity to spare your life and tell us the location of the weapon,” a lead assassin in a dark uniform leans over and whispers in the Master Monk’s ear.
“You will lose and when you free my spirit I will continue to smile at your defeat,” the Master Monk responds.
“I may or may not be defeated but still to this day I win battles- like this one! Look around you!” the lead warrior shouts at the top of his lungs, “Come out and save your Master!”
“You are a wise snake that will be outwitted by a quick mongoose,” the monk turns to the assassin,”I see defeat in this palace but your departing will come before mine.”
“Monk those are brave words! Brave words indeed for a man who’s head is about to be completely severed!” he motions at the executioner holding the sword to the monk’s head. “Do it! Kill him!” He turns to the rest of the crowd, “Kill him and burn the entire temple down! We will wait, surround the area and see that no one runs out when it burns!”
The assassin lifts the sword over his head. He is swift to slice down on the monk’s neck. In an instant, a young monk descends from the rafters of the palace. A few assassins notice and others do not. Most are busy observing a monk about to get his head cut off. As the young monk descends the young one shape shifts into an elephant in mid air landing on the lead assassin with a loud crash; killing him instantly. A few assassins in the crowd fall back from the repercussion. In a flash the elephant shape shifts into a black panther and pounces at the executioner holding the sword, severing his head with a single slice of its massive claws to the neck. The other assassins heave javelins and arrows at the direction of the panther. The panther then transforms into a small humming bird avoiding all the projectiles. As it flies and avoids the flying projectiles inside the palace it turns into a bull charging the assassins and goring most of them. The rest flee and the few that do stay to fight find themselves defeated again and again by a charging bull and busy humming bird. The instant transformations repeatedly assist the young monk in dodging their projectiles of arrows and spears. The attacks are futile and this combination of shape shifting wipes them all out.
The palace is now empty, with the exception of the young monk and the elder. Another monk appears from behind a hidden door inside the temple. He frees the ties binding the Master Monk. The bull shape shifts into the young monk and approaches the Master Monk. A bow, a smile and a glare are shared.
“Bahuksana, I gave you strict orders not to come out from the palace!” the Master scolds and points at the young one. “You have now put your life in danger and now they know that you posses the weapon!”
“Master-the palace was going to burn and you would have been slain. I could not stand the sight of this for much longer! I refuse to be a witness to a massacre and be burdened like a coward by watching and doing nothing.” The young Monk allows the tears to roll down blush red cheeks, “they killed everyone, everyone-“
“Bahuksana! Gather yourself!” the Master Monk approaches and embraces the young monk near his chest. “You need to find The Nomad of Jerusalem. They have discovered you young one. They must have an idea of who you are. It will not be difficult for them to find you again if you stay near.”
“Come with me let us go together,” Bahuksana pleads, “I will protect the both of you!”
“Bahuksana, Bahuksana- we were not meant to take this journey with you. Our spirits are in danger to be released moments after you leave. If we decide to go with you we will only surmount to the dangers that await you. You have a greater chance of surviving on your own. Beware there is one like you, possessing a weapon, that travels with the assassins. He is approaching soon. Leave now and take your Scroll of the Kings. Your training is now complete. Go now in haste and take the memories of your brothers here with you-something nothing and no one may ever take away.” The other older monk hands Bahuksana a scroll wrapped in a leather case. He also hands Bahuksana a pack with bread, jerky and a small bladder of water. He hugs the young Monk and wipes his tears away.
“I will never forget you-“ Bahuksana kisses the monks on their foreheads, bows, turns and in a leap, he shifts into an eagle.
“Bahuksana! There are no eagles in these parts! Are you forgetting your training? They will see you fly away and follow! Be alert! Use the wisdom and the training we have revealed to you!” the Master Monk admonishes. Bahuksana re-shifts into a stallion and heads for a door way. Before exiting the stallion bows once more to the monks who lift their hands and send their blessings of peace. Bahuksana dashes out into the thickness of the Forrest. In the distance an approaching army of assassins close in on the compound.
“Come old friend,” the Master Monk motions to the other monk. “We will hide in the catacombs for as long as we can. We might get fortunate and when they burn this place down they will count us among the departed. The last thing we need is a giant boa swallowing us in the depths of the catacombs. This next assassin leader is ruthless old friend. He is the one who defeated the King of the lands of Egypt. We will only take the Scrolls of The Age with us. Leave everything else behind.” As the monks disappear into the hidden trap doors, arrows with fire begin to descend on the temple and flames consume the delicate posts, walls and shrines.
From a far distance a monkey atop a high tree with a leather case around its back cries as it watches the temple burn and smoke billows through the thick tree lines into the sky.
Smiles- as some do his bidding
Try to escape the grasp of my hand
And your life will no longer exist
Hear our cry, save us from
The hell in which we live
We turn our heads toward the sky
And listen for the steel
Die by the sword…
Slayer, Die By The Sword
CHAPTER 2: Bahuksana
There is a massacre in the Orient. Monk’s bodies are strewn in pools of blood. Only three survive. One is kneeling, meditating and sorrowful for the early departing of his spiritual brothers. A cold steel blade from a sword rests on his neck. Small contingents of warrior assassins in black garb loom around him in formation, awaiting orders. Two monks are hidden inside the walls of the temple protecting relics, scrolls and a certain weapon they have named Bahuksana which stands for “enduring much” in Buddhist.
It is now ten years after the death of The Prince. The Nomad is successful in spreading the trinkets he made to a select group of world leaders, the Kings. Each was given strict orders to protect their weapons at all cost and to reveal the secrets of their particular weapon to only one suitable successor preceding the moment of their death. Other acts of Kings were written in manuscripts to protect the secrets and weapons- some explained maintaining strict physical and mental readiness and abstaining from dangers in order to preserve the Kings from an untimely death. An accidental loss of the weapons and its secrets would be catastrophic. Only the Nomad and his niece Selaya know of the exact names of the Kings and cities in which the weapons were taken.
“Monk, before you die I will give you one more opportunity to spare your life and tell us the location of the weapon,” a lead assassin in a dark uniform leans over and whispers in the Master Monk’s ear.
“You will lose and when you free my spirit I will continue to smile at your defeat,” the Master Monk responds.
“I may or may not be defeated but still to this day I win battles- like this one! Look around you!” the lead warrior shouts at the top of his lungs, “Come out and save your Master!”
“You are a wise snake that will be outwitted by a quick mongoose,” the monk turns to the assassin,”I see defeat in this palace but your departing will come before mine.”
“Monk those are brave words! Brave words indeed for a man who’s head is about to be completely severed!” he motions at the executioner holding the sword to the monk’s head. “Do it! Kill him!” He turns to the rest of the crowd, “Kill him and burn the entire temple down! We will wait, surround the area and see that no one runs out when it burns!”
The assassin lifts the sword over his head. He is swift to slice down on the monk’s neck. In an instant, a young monk descends from the rafters of the palace. A few assassins notice and others do not. Most are busy observing a monk about to get his head cut off. As the young monk descends the young one shape shifts into an elephant in mid air landing on the lead assassin with a loud crash; killing him instantly. A few assassins in the crowd fall back from the repercussion. In a flash the elephant shape shifts into a black panther and pounces at the executioner holding the sword, severing his head with a single slice of its massive claws to the neck. The other assassins heave javelins and arrows at the direction of the panther. The panther then transforms into a small humming bird avoiding all the projectiles. As it flies and avoids the flying projectiles inside the palace it turns into a bull charging the assassins and goring most of them. The rest flee and the few that do stay to fight find themselves defeated again and again by a charging bull and busy humming bird. The instant transformations repeatedly assist the young monk in dodging their projectiles of arrows and spears. The attacks are futile and this combination of shape shifting wipes them all out.
The palace is now empty, with the exception of the young monk and the elder. Another monk appears from behind a hidden door inside the temple. He frees the ties binding the Master Monk. The bull shape shifts into the young monk and approaches the Master Monk. A bow, a smile and a glare are shared.
“Bahuksana, I gave you strict orders not to come out from the palace!” the Master scolds and points at the young one. “You have now put your life in danger and now they know that you posses the weapon!”
“Master-the palace was going to burn and you would have been slain. I could not stand the sight of this for much longer! I refuse to be a witness to a massacre and be burdened like a coward by watching and doing nothing.” The young Monk allows the tears to roll down blush red cheeks, “they killed everyone, everyone-“
“Bahuksana! Gather yourself!” the Master Monk approaches and embraces the young monk near his chest. “You need to find The Nomad of Jerusalem. They have discovered you young one. They must have an idea of who you are. It will not be difficult for them to find you again if you stay near.”
“Come with me let us go together,” Bahuksana pleads, “I will protect the both of you!”
“Bahuksana, Bahuksana- we were not meant to take this journey with you. Our spirits are in danger to be released moments after you leave. If we decide to go with you we will only surmount to the dangers that await you. You have a greater chance of surviving on your own. Beware there is one like you, possessing a weapon, that travels with the assassins. He is approaching soon. Leave now and take your Scroll of the Kings. Your training is now complete. Go now in haste and take the memories of your brothers here with you-something nothing and no one may ever take away.” The other older monk hands Bahuksana a scroll wrapped in a leather case. He also hands Bahuksana a pack with bread, jerky and a small bladder of water. He hugs the young Monk and wipes his tears away.
“I will never forget you-“ Bahuksana kisses the monks on their foreheads, bows, turns and in a leap, he shifts into an eagle.
“Bahuksana! There are no eagles in these parts! Are you forgetting your training? They will see you fly away and follow! Be alert! Use the wisdom and the training we have revealed to you!” the Master Monk admonishes. Bahuksana re-shifts into a stallion and heads for a door way. Before exiting the stallion bows once more to the monks who lift their hands and send their blessings of peace. Bahuksana dashes out into the thickness of the Forrest. In the distance an approaching army of assassins close in on the compound.
“Come old friend,” the Master Monk motions to the other monk. “We will hide in the catacombs for as long as we can. We might get fortunate and when they burn this place down they will count us among the departed. The last thing we need is a giant boa swallowing us in the depths of the catacombs. This next assassin leader is ruthless old friend. He is the one who defeated the King of the lands of Egypt. We will only take the Scrolls of The Age with us. Leave everything else behind.” As the monks disappear into the hidden trap doors, arrows with fire begin to descend on the temple and flames consume the delicate posts, walls and shrines.
From a far distance a monkey atop a high tree with a leather case around its back cries as it watches the temple burn and smoke billows through the thick tree lines into the sky.
posted by Big O at
6:24 PM
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