In Saffron Sands Hub
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Though I cannot tell you what lies beyond
I wholly wish I could
And though it may feel a dream
I ensure you that it not should

For I am lost and you are gone
and what have we left to show
except for our godless skies
and total lack of control?

No fruit is borne in the dirt
And our rivers run dry
Close is the demise of the land
And hell comes from up on high

And so to completely shut it down
As the wicked wring their hands
Come, come, won't you join me
Deep in those saffron sands?

In Saffron Sands is intended to show, as a series, the anomalous experience in India - a place of economic turmoil, rampant speculation and superstition, and some of the richest mythos on the planet itself.

In Saffron Sands functions as a series intended to showcase what exactly there is to offer once horizons are broadened. The world of I.S.S. is a completely godless one; in which rampant factions attempt to corral power and support to fulfill what roles have been opened, and one fellow (and his occasionally assholish snake demon) attempt to nix a plot long running behind the scenes.

The Foundation's role here is a passive one; new to the landscape of India, they mainly rely on such groups as The House of the Naga to provide major intel. As such, they're often late to the party, gambling on large scale control rather than preventative measures. Most developing problems are met with force by the House — psychokinetic fiends that do whatever the hell they want, as long as it's for the good of India.

Meanwhile, the Bharatiya Samanee Samaj is quite against this. A splinter from the House, they attempt to enforce normalcy via any means necessary; whether that be poisoning the force that House members manipulate, effectively killing them, or destroying the minor deities that foolishly roam the area.

India is a place of conflict, where the House has retreated into the shadows, the Foundation is lost, the BSS reigns, and the anomalous is not discussed. Despite this, a number of minor deities decide to make their move once more…

In Saffron Sands is intended to discuss important topics; stuff like xenophobia, homophobia, poverty, and the like. Despite this, expect some comedy too; it is what the gods do best, and in the words of The Devil; "Unpleasantness is the worst kind of pleasantness. Humor is needed to make the drab worth getting through."

Prologue: What Was Left Behind (Or; Godless Skies)



SCP-3279-1 has been abandoned since 1947, due to the Partition of India. It was formerly owned by a Mr. Raj Singh and Mrs. Gurpreet Kaur. Singh was killed during the movement of refugees during Partition, and Kaur passed away in Chandigarh in 1987.

A single unmarked bottle lays near the back wall, filled with syringes. Claw marks, similar to those of a large animal, are shown around its neck, and two sets of deep animal tracks can be seen entering and exiting its opening.

Back in Punjab, we used to have a few banyan and mango trees about. I used to sit in their shade and take care of them. However, I don't see nearly as many trees about. Perhaps I should plant a few.

The dying evening light was reflected in the tiger's eyes as they devoured the landscape for a few final moments. And for those moments, time seemed to slow to a crawl. The once valiant enemy saw a revenant, a specter from the dead, and ran. Turned tail and ran, as fast as their legs could carry them.

Our fellow Sardars are losing strength. The water is leaving. Many of our people have been lost, to famine, to thirst, or to their own hands. But, we come to provide you a solution. There are three options we are here to present you with.

Chapter One: What We Did (Or; I Am Lost And You Are Gone)



When I stepped off the plane, the snake hissed. It hissed like I'd never heard it before, as if I'd touched its nonexistent feet to the most vile acid known to mankind, and its cries joined the chemical's as well.

And so you do. That power flowing through all of you, your strength as that of an ox. The others are scared. You leap from your position, bruised and battered, a modern-day Leonidas, and slam the next upside the head. You take that anger, and you use it. Beat it, and beat it, and beat him further down into the ground. On and on.

They told me that if I died, I would see God. I have not seen him. Everything is terrible.
Their God takes care of all His children. I should have remembered 20 missionaries who told us that before.

What I saw there was nothing except pain. Lepers, the starving, sick, poor. Everywhere. There was no dancing, no songs, no happiness. Everything had been stripped away like rabid dogs on a carcass; an image I saw far too frequently there. The movies lied to me, like they normally do. Why did I expect anything different?

Don't you see, you bhagalwala kid? What we do here is true, true magic. And this magic? It's something far, far deeper than you could understand.

Chapter Two: What Went Down (Or; Total Lack Of Control)



I'm sorry. For everything. If you're reading this, I hope you're thinking of me.

Part Two: In Which There Is A Divine Conference (Of What Is Left Of Them)

The ground stirred. With a beast's bellow, the giant hummed thoughtfully. Then it moved a small pawn forward three spaces, then diagonally left four.
"You can't do that!" the witch shrieked.
"Why not?" the giant retorted simply, face sullen.

I saw the devil. And do you know what he did? He cried.

The House of the Naga does not sit idly by. It acts, and act we shall.

The only hope is to accept that there is none, and pray that we carry this knowledge with us in the beforetimes.

Chapter Three: What We Heard When The Doors Opened (Or; Close Is The Demise)



Fuck off, it said.
No, you fuck off, they simply said back.
Both of you fuck right off, why don't you? The foremost deity sighed, smiting the two lessers with a snap of xer fingers. The two were barely singed in body, but the same could not be said for their pride.

Part Two: In Which There Is A Severe Lack Of Cohesion

The drumming upon the land signalled one thing; there was unpleasantness abound. Unpleasantness is the worst kind of pleasantness. It creeps up on you until it and its friends are present in such large amounts it cannot help but crush you. It is for this reason it was promptly banished, but banished things always return. Such is the power, of well, willpower.

It's a beautiful day, isn't it?

At that moment, I felt at peace. And in pieces. And that was okay.

I can smell them. The last bits of belief exacerbate their problems so, and we shall be there to fill the cracks they have neglected in their haste to patch up the wall of their mind.

Chapter Four: What Happened On That Day (Or; Hell Up On High)



Justice was not an easy thing to claim.

He shook his head. Preposterous. How could such terrible actions be allowed in any location of this sphere?
Wait, wait. Ah. That's how.

Nothingness was ever so boring. Eventually, constantly being enraged at existence gets old. And the emptiness was older than old.

So beat your nagaras, take up your talwars, and fight for the motherland!
Jai Hind!

War is a pesky thing. In a world previously thought to be at peace, she had retired somewhat comfortably to the Bahamas. When the primal urge overtook her, however, it was an undeniable call.

Epilogue: What We Carry With Us (Or; In Saffron Sands)



The tiger, pulsating with the blood of a thousand before him, and a thousand before them, bathed in crimson and soaked in the saffron's fire, roared. And the snake hissed in true harmony.

The House of the Naga will remain. We will hold steadfast. That is how we act.

I'm back.

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