100 Years Ago
Ysbar was afraid. Amber lash of searing flame, lungs full of acrid smoke. They ought to be afraid, they were made out of meat. Meat cooks, and the flames of the shipwreck around them ached for a cut of well-done meat. The metal around them creaked and groaned under the heat as they crawled out from under a fallen I-beam. Struggling to get much further out, they cried out for help. In a moment of helplessness, a familiar face entered through a nearby broken airlock.
"Ysbar! You're alive!" Korina rushed over to help them, who had been sobbing from the burns. "Ysbar, sweetie! Mommy's gonna get you out of here." She placed her hands on the I-beam to attempt to move it, but quickly ripped them away when she felt the heat of the metal. Her hands burned, but she didn't dare look down at them. Instead, she chose to bear through it. She placed her hands back on the beam—and through excruciating pain—lifted it slowly. It took more strength than she had, and by the time Ysbar had crawled out to safety, her bones creaked and groaned just as much as the metal of the ship around her. Losing strength quickly as smoke filled her lungs, she dragged Ysbar up the inclined ship floor toward the exit.
Exiting the ship some minutes later, Ysbar was unconscious, but alive. And knowing her child was safe, she collapsed in front of the doorway.
Here lies Korina, mother to Ysbar. Died saving her only child from the wreck. Rest in peace.
Ysbar laid out a bundle of relatively pretty weeds next to the grave. It had been a year by now, but the settlement was far from thriving and Ysbar was far from past the loss of their mother. Many of the members of the settlement had died in the first few months. The planet they had landed on was hostile and unforgiving, far from what it was supposed to be. The cartographers among them who survived the shipwreck argued over whether or not this was even the right planet. After all, the night sky was rich with the hues of some anomalous cosmic event that enveloped the planet.
Ysbar stood from the grave and began walking through the quiet camp set up outside the wreckage. It had been that way for as long as they had been on this planet; quiet, lonely. No one dared to leave the camp except for a select few who had volunteered to hunt. Tents made of a combination of animal leather and torn up tarps from within the ship were all the shelter the group had; not the best protection from the elements, let alone the roving bands of Reaver-jackals or the herds of Stampodons threatening to flatten their entire camp in one migration.
Ysbar stopped in front of a tent. They were 13 now, the group at large had decided they weren't old enough to live on their own—regardless of the fact that materials for tents were running short—and placed them in a tent with a few other orphans. Entering inside, a few of the younger orphans were discussing a new game they had thought up. In the corner, a supervisory adult made sure none of the kids were getting into a ruckus. Near the middle, a few of the older orphans sat in silence while eating a meal made from the heavily rationed nutrient bars found aboard the ship and some fruit from nearby. Ysbar walked to the cramped bedding area, laid down, and took a nap.
That night, awakening in the middle of a group of sleeping children and teens, they crawled out of their bedding to go to the outhouse. Stepping outside of the tent, they saw either the most terrifying or most beautiful sight of their life, perhaps both. In the sky, a massive cosmic eye peered down back at them. It formed into a spiral and penetrated through the atmosphere. Finally, it coalesced as a light brighter than the sun within a nearby forest, before fading slowly. Ysbar didn't have to use the outhouse anymore.
"Ahh...my kin. I know not where you are, but I have found a place deserving of our kind. The people here are in need of a guide, and so I shall be more. I shall be their god, like in the ancient era of our ancestors. Ahh! Taotl! My kin, you will be named successor to my empire when you return." The voice did not belong to the woman from whom it came. It was a celestial sound, twinkling like the stars and just as beautiful.
"Now, to be their messiah." Acolhuani had already thought of a name and identity for the vessel it had created. Ilana Tezcapoca, messiah and herald of Acolhuani. While it lacked in power, it could feed off the Force Nexus for sustenance, and use the power of the followers it planned to amass as its own. It was naught but a parasite of civilizations, and it had found a buffet.
The plan it had laid out was perfect. Arrive in the night, use simple displays of obscure Force powers to bestow boons and miracles unto the survivors of the shipwreck, and lead them to salvation at a nearby oasis. All that was left was to execute the plan and spread the good name of Acolhuani.
The next morning, a new face stood at the center of the camp. Most were on guard, but a few dared approach her. Those who did felt the gentle caress of her gaze and the Force sensitive among them felt the raw power of her touch.
"Many of you may not recognize me, but I am Ilana Tezcapoca. I have spent the last year in the smoldering wreckage of the ship and I have learned many things! I was visited by the great Acolhuani, god of these lands, who told me of an oasis! It promised me bountiful food and endless peace! Those who wish for happiness, those who desire the calm of a normal life, those of you who may not trust me but have the capacity for love and compassion, join me! Join me on a pilgrimage to the Oasis of Acolhuani!"
With a slow but gathering vigor, a group—small at first, but larger over time—gathered around her. When she felt it was sufficiently large, she exited the encampment on a Holy Pilgrimage to the oasis. To the promised land. To the site of its cult.
To its feeding ground.
