[RP] The destiny of the Ihittaqueh

OOC: Please keep it RP only, long posts, short posts, it doesn't matter. Keep in mind we may decide to move this to the TN forums or to the public part of our forums later.

Xuchimatzatzin looks around the circle. He is sitting inside the secret room in the great temple of Itzohcan. They have been here often lately, each time with more people. For all those worthy should join their ranks. All the Ihittaqueh are gathered here, talking amicably to each other. In a matter of seconds he will address them all. This time proposing to do their greatest deed ever, proposing to fulfill their destinies, proposing to forge an empire so that the Ihittaqueh may rule supreme, proposing...

Realising he is murmuring he notices that some of them are looking at him. Yes, it is time, he will say it now. Clearing his throat and trying to muster confidence and power behind his voice he stands and speaks.

Mighty Ihittaqueh!

Even before the two words are out of his mouth he hears them cheering, these people are truly his friends. Waiting for the cheers to subside, he feels his confidence rising, and he continues with all the charm and authority he can muster.

He retells their past deeds, he talks about their new members, about their growing brotherhood, about how they started, near Itzohcan, in the forest, just a few of them, dreaming of greater things, of a true destiny, of a great Aztec empire. He speaks of how they got control over Itzohcan, and of how Mezipoe led it to greatness. Of how they got hit, but how it did not stop them, of how it made them stronger, of how it made them realise their full potential.

When we took Cuauhtlan, we showed our power. We had proven our capabilities as warriors and, we have seized the tribute that was ours. But we did not stop there. When we took Ehuacalco and kept if for many sunrises, we proved we are truly among the greatest of our people. We punished them for their insolence, for their arrogance and for their part in the raiding of one of our clans, the great Itzohcan clan. BUT we did not stop there.

It is just days ago that we acquired a majority in the council of Elders of the most worthy tribe of Tepeyacac, the oldest tribe of them all. And now Myth is chief, we rule over those people, and under our lead they will acquire greatness. BUT we will not stop here!

Walking to the middle of the circle he gestures to all of them.

We, the Ihittaqueh, you, you, and all others... we are wealthy, we are experienced, we are intelligent, we are talented, we are strong, we are powerful, we are charismatic! WE ARE the elite of the Aztec people. Therefore, we are meant to rule over them all!

Now the setting is there, now it is time to forge our destinies! Now we have to take the next step so that we may rule supreme.... it is time to proclaim me, Xuchimatzatzin, King of all the Aztecs, Supreme ruler over the Aztec nation and descendant of Quetzalcoatl!

I ASK YOU! I ask you all! Support me and allow me to lead the Ihittaqueh to power!

If you support me, I will proceed by putting a vote up among the Elders of Tepeyacac to proclaim me Huey Tlahtoani of the Aztec Tlahtocayotl. So that I will be king of the Aztecs. After that, we will request the other tribes to accept me as their king. And that... will only be the beginning.

Soon, when we can make armies, our warriors will march to the tribes that defy us. We will start with Chalco, who has on multiple occasions gravely insulted me and thereby the Ihittaqueh. We will take their clans and annex them for the greater glory of Tepeyacac and the Ihittaqueh.

Drawing his sword and pointing it to the air he shouts:

WILL YOU SUPPORT ME!? We will never stop, greatness is ours! May the Ihittaqueh rule supreme!

Wandress alone sat silently among the rest of the warriors, her body and face deathly still but for her eyes, surveying and assessing each of her companions. Some she had known all her life, a few she met just moments ago; yet all were gathered here for a purpose, though what that was only Xuchimatzatzin knew. Her head shifted slightly towards him as he begun murmuring, her only movement since entering the temple. He was in his own world, absent from the rest of them until silence from the rest of the warriors gave him the space he needed to talk. As soon as he opened his mouth the room erupted in cheers; everyone was full of excitement and expectation, though none of them could control it. They will need to learn discipline; chasing rabbits for dinner is not the same as stalking Jaguars. Her jaw twitched, but she kept her eyes on their charismatic leader, her face tightly controlled.

She couldn't help but shiver as the echoes of his words resounded from the walls. Powerful words, and every word he spoke was true. It was indeed time for Ihittaqueh to rise, and move out of Itzohcan; they needed a leader, and who better but the one the world already knew? Xuchimatzatzin was the face of Ihittaqueh, he was their leader, he already was their king. Amidst the silence of the temple she stood, drawing her own black-bladed sword. She did not wince as she drew it's razor edge across her palm, watching her king levelly as her blood coated the obsidian. Squeezing her hand closed, she dropped the sword at his feet, droplets of her blood flying across the floor as it fell. Her blade would be drawn only at his request, her blood spilt only for him. Touching her closed fist to her bowed head, her soft words echoed through the room as soundly as the clash of blades.

"May the Ihittaqueh rule supreme, my King."

Coza knelt before a still pool, moonlight filtering down through the trees to grace its silent surface. Gesturing her hands above the water, she scrunched up her face in concentration. The moon's reflection began to fade, to be replaced by a scene that caused her to clap her hands with childlike delight. A great warrior stood within a circle of other great warriors. He gestured to the people and their arms rose up in joy. The images were silent, but she knew well the words he spoke, for she had dreamed them again and again so many nights before.

All was as she had foreseen.

A brightly colored butterfly flitted near, then touched lightly against the surface of the water, causing ripples. Coza frowned and snatched it out of the air, crushing it.

You shouldn't have done that, Little Sister, she said, absently wiping her hand on her tunic. As the surface of the water calmed, her eyes never left the noble face of the Warrior King. All must learn to respect the Ihittaqueh. Did you not see, Little Sister? All will be crushed who do not bow before him. The Ihittaqueh will not tolerate such insolence.

The scene faded and she rose to her feet. They called her mad. For so many moons she had heralded the coming of the King-Who-Would-Save-Us-All. They laughed at her, just as they laughed at the fearless and clever Xuchimatzatzin. Let them laugh. They would die laughing. Her brothers and sisters were coming. He was coming. She was missing much, being so far away from them, but there was much to do here. Yes. She must prepare the way. Until she was called, she would serve from a distance

Zilonen sat comfortably in the circle - pushing her long red hair out of her face as she worked to put a razor-sharp edge on her obsidian dagger. Occasionally she glances around proudly at the warriors gathered here, smiling at the chosen, proud to be one in their company.

She turns her attention to Xuchimatzatzin as he begins to speak. She smiles and cheers with enthusiasm at his words then listens quietly as he recounts their victories. Her eyes follow him as he walks to the middle of the circle. She holds her dagger loosely as she is riveted to his words.

She watches as Wandress steps into the circle - and gasps as she draws the blade across her palm. Glancing around at the others, Zilonen stands and quietly takes her place next to Wandress. Following her lead, Zilonen draws the sharpened edge of her dagger across her own palm. As blood drips to the floor Zilonen whispers to Xuchi.

You are our leader - you are our King.

She raises her voice as she turns to the others.

We are Ihittaqueh! We are the elite and shall crush any who dare oppose our rule. Together with our powerful King Xuchimatzatzin we shall be victorious.

He enters the circle and sits in a solumn manner looking straight ahead listening to Xuchi speak. He nods as he speaks agreeing what he says. He steps in the middle drawing his obsidian blade cuts his hand across his palm letting the blood drip on the ground next to where Xuchi stood.

We shall follow wherever we are called to, Oh King! and crush those who opposed us and sacrifice them as we see needed. LOOK OUT EVERYONE WE ARE IHITTAQUEH! NOTHING WILL STOP US FROM GETTING STRONGER AND POWERFUL!!!! OPPOSE US YOU SHALL BE SLAUGHTERED!!!


He sits next to Wandress murmuring in whispers while others enter the circle.

Watching history before him unravel, Xuchimatzatzin feels strengthened in his resolve. Yes! He will lead them to greatness! He sees his friends, his comrades, his family, pledging themselves to this cause, pledging themselves to him. He watches Wandress taking her sword bloodying the edge of it with her hand and throwing it at his feet, he watches Zilonen following her lead. Those two, great friends they have been to him, great warriors, many captives they have on their name. Yes! He will be their King. Together with the Ihittaqueh he can rule, he knows he can. The Aztec people need a king.

And there is Telemachus, mighty warrior, husband to Wandress, how lucky they are to have each other. They are a true example of how Aztecs should be. Their children will surely be among the most worthy of Aztecs.

Marslynn listens to Xuchimatzatzin's words with a welling pride building deep inside her.
As Wandress and then Zilonen and Telemachus go into the circle and cut their hands to let the blood consecrate their vows to the King...

Marslynn rips a piece of cloth off of her tunic and ties her long black hair back with it.

She can hear the cheers, sounding loudly in her ears almost as a second heartbeat.
Marslynn walks into the circle and kneels next to Wandress and bows her head as she brings her blade across her palm.
She holds her fisted hand out at the feet of the King and vows,

My life for you my King!

Marslynn stands and turns to the warrior's that are gathered there.

She raises both hands in the air...a knife in one and with blood running down her arm, she shouts...


To Xuchimatzatzin our King, To IHITTAQUEH!....
We Are Strong And Shall Rise Above The Rest!!

It begins

Blood is spilled

Not the first

Nor the last

Blood which binds

Each to other

All, entwined.


Mezipoe was swept with emotion as Xuchi's words built to a crescendo. The two had dreamed much. Xuchi, the clenched fist. Mezi, the watchful eye. This moment bore witness to the fruit of their efforts.

Others had risked dreaming, too and contributed to that shared belief in something more, something higher. Something better. They stood nearby, immersed in the wave of emotions washing through the room: steady Wandress, loyal Telemachus, the energetic Zilonen, Nachomama's quiet power, Marslynn's passion. Mezi thought about each of them as he watched the blood dripping from his palm to the stone floor. He closed his fist around the escaping fluid as if to capture its life's essence, as if to capture this moment.

As he stared at his red-stained fingers he saw that this moment would be foundational-- a refocusing, a renewal of their efforts. It was time to press things forward. They were Ihittaqueh.

And Xuchi was their king.

Peering through a small door in the back, revealing blood dripping from Mezipoe's hand, Lem gasps......

Cupping her hand over her mouth, she enters while closing the door behind. After finding her seat beside her friends, she wondered how she could be so late for this special ceremony?

Upon further observation, Lem realized all within the circle have been pledging their allegiance, their trust, their lives to the king of kings and now the time had arrived...

for her to show her loyalty.

***********************

A few beads of sweat rolled off her head for she had a secret no one was to ever learn. Her fear of blood was most real. She had worked hard learning the ways of the military and had begun instructing others in this war-like path. She could not afford to reveal her secret.

"My friends can never know this" she thought as she searched quickly in her pockets for her lucky rabbit's foot and squeezed it in thanksgiving. The feeling of relief engulfed her, giving her the inner peace and strength to unsheath her small, sharp dagger.

Standing before all, Lem spoke as she cut quickly taking her mind off the act...

"With the shedding of my blood, I give my loyalty, trust, obedience and dedication to you King Xuchimatzatzin! You are the Mighty King! Where ever you, go, I shall go. Where ever you wage war, I shall wage war. Where ever you make peace, I shall make peace. I shall follow you, Great One!"

"Rise, King Xuchimatzatzin, Rise!"

***********************

Opening her blood-stained hand to reveal the cut, she felt a twinge of lighted headedness, yet she felt victorious in overcoming her fear.

Chanticoatl walked towards the meeting, slowly and gracefully. She took everything in with her eyes and ears: Xuchi speaking to the people in the circle. They were people she knew, all their eyes were on him but they cut their hands, they promised to fight for Xuchi. Her heart pounded in her ears with the excitement growing in the crowd and with the closeness of such a powerful man.

King, she thought, as she gazed at Xuchi, mesmerized.

Chanti walked around the circle until she found a place to join, by some women she knew: Wandress and Zilonen. It was a group of people with the same goal: to conquer and rule over all the Aztec nations. They were many and they were strong. Chanti knew that together, they could do it. She was just one more warrior of many, with one more sword.

Like the others had done, Chanti unsheathed her sword. In one swift movement, she sliced the blade through her other palm. Squeezing her hand, she watched a drop of blood trickle from the cut, over her wrist and down her arm. With the other hand, she held up her sword.

My sword is for Ihittaqueh and for the great King Xuchimatzatzin! Chanti promised. May all the clans know our power and respect our great king!

Chanti set her sword down at her feet like the others had done and she waited to see what would happen next.

Ina lurks in a shadowed corner with Nach, sitting on his lap, as usual, in convivial silence. Xuchi stands to address those gathered and even the normally contained Ina is compelled to yowl and cheer along with the rest. She smirks a bit at the mention of Cuahtlan - those fools could not even let themselves back into an empty hall - and her black eyes gleam thinking of Ehuacalco. She leans back and growls smugly in Nach's ear, "Don't think we were ever spotted."

One by one people begin to stand and make their blood offerings to Xuchi, and Ina is once more compelled by their fervor. She does not exactly know in her mind, but can feel what is being created here. Right now Xuchi is not just Xuchi, that charming man who laughs with her while they plot out ways to enslave multitudes. He suddenly becomes more than that as each Ihittaqueh rises to ackowledge his kingship. Before her eyes he becomes the great King Xuchimatzatzin, ruler of their people and rightful overlord of everyone else's people.

She stands up and pads catlike on her small feet, her compact frame slipping between two women without taking her focus away long enough to notice who they are. Her hand goes to her side for her knife - and Ina hisses with annoyance. She has left the thing at home for those stupid scrawny tapirs to be slaughtered.

Devoutly believing that the time to make a gesture is now, she toys briefly with the notion of snatching up one of the blades already at his feet.

Instead she approaches Xuchi and stands on her tiptoes, takes his wrist, and pulls his arm just far enough for her to grasp the sword above the hilt. Ina looks him in the eyes and sees the eyes of the feathered serpent's son gazing back. An unfamiliar emotion stirs. She squeezes and feels the obsidian flakes puncture her fingers and bite deep and satisfyingly into the meat at the base of her palm.

Warm blood flows in sluggish spurts. She savours it briefly and releases her hold, slashing deeper cuts across her fingers where they stretched around the sword.

Ina holds her hand out to reveal its sanguine coating. She presses her ravaged palm to the stone floor and leaves a solid, glossy red handprint on the stone amongst the bloodied swords and knives. She does not shout but merely states clearly her intent with cold finality.

"You have my hand to do what must be done, my King."

Lavea on watching the ceremony is engulfed with feelings of strength and pride. She feels as if noone can stop them and is prepared to sacrifice all to their great cause.

Stepping forward she cries "For you my king, and for Ihittaqueh, I pledge my life's blood."

Taking out her dagger she cuts her palm and adds her blood pledge to that of the others to whom she she is bound.

Tepoztecal, often in the shadows, but ever present, steps forward to stand beside Zilonen. Xuchimatzatzin's words echo in his ears, inspiring warrior's pride and determination. He reflects inwardly, thinking back to the early days and admiring how far Xuchi and others have led them.

He nods to himself, satisfied that it is good, and without hesitation he draws his knife across his palm to dedicate his essence to the Huey Tlahtoani of the Aztec Tlahtocayotl.

I stand strong for Ihittaqueh and for the great King Xuchimatzatzin, until my blood no longer flows in my veins, then I shall die for Ihittaqueh and for the great King Xuchimatzatzin.

Xuchimatzatzin sees more and more of the Ihittaqueh step forward; Marslynn, Chief of Quecholac. And there is Mezipoe, his good friend Mezipoe. Together they had been through much. They had planned, they had dreamed. Mezipoe, Chief of Itzohcan. He has led his clan to wealth, the market was always full with goods, and he was revered by his clan.

More and more Ihittaqueh take their swords and shed their blood for him, shed their blood as they will do later. NO! Not just for him... for the Ihittaqueh, for the Aztec nation, for greatness. It is almost over, soon all the Ihittaqueh will have declared their support, their loyalty to the cause.

Watching the last Ihittaqueh kneeling before him, Xuchimatzatzin looks around. Still taken by the moment the Ihittaqueh return to their spot in the circle, he sees their hands covered in blood and the light of the torches shimmer on the blood covered obsidian swords, and Xuchimatzatzin knows it is time to speak again.

Ihittaqueh! My friends!

Now we will move ahead. Now we will step forward. Now we will show our power. And take our place in history.

We will unite the tribes and forge an empire. We will affirm the greatness of our nation, and in doing so, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey to power and uniting the tribes will never be one of short-cuts or settling for less. It will not be the path for the faint-hearted - for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it will be the warriors, the doers, the makers of things - some celebrated but more often men and women obscure in their labor, who will carry us up the long, rugged path towards prosperity and greatness. *

But if we keep our eyes on the goal set, if we work together, if we are loyal to each other, then we will succeed!

For the Glory of the Empire we will conquer!

Long live the Ihittaqueh, greatness is ours!


* I might have stolen this from an Obama speech.