[center] [h1] A Rude Awakening [/h1] [/center] 


[center] [i]Kingfisher [/i]

Day 1, Midday


[b]Jaelith [/b][/center]

The Tenami  village sat amidst a canyon of snow-blasted rock, surrounded by tower-like spikes of ice which seemed to scrape away at the murky blue sky itself. Small, windswept huts of black stone were dotted about the clearing, battered by a hailstorm of howling winds as they stood like graves amidst a field of crisp white earth. The Norsaki clansmen moved about in small huddled groups, clutching fur cloaks tightly around their bodies as they went about their days. 

The Chapel of the Moon Childe was built away from the rest of the camp, in a small patch of icy white gravel. The Chapel itself was an extravagant blend of polished marble and gold, woven together into a great tower which lorded over the rest of the camp. An ornate onion dome stood at its peak, sitting atop a massive drum-like pillar. The whole building was drenched in magical charms, keeping it free from the terrible wrath of the snowy weather which raged about the camp. 

Nothing but a light humming of snow and wind made its way through the walls of the Chapel, creating a heavenly melody of northern divinity which hung lightly in the air. 

Moriyah Jaelith Tenami, Moon Childe of the Tenami clan, sat at the heart of the Chapel, her legs spread out across the warm stone floor, a braid of dark red hair woven over one shoulder. She had milk pale skin, and a large frame which went beyond simply chubby. 

A lean figure, dressed in cumbersome fur robes, came striding into the chapel, a slender object bound in flaky hide clutched beneath his arm.

“Daughter of light,” he called out to her by way of greeting “it is done.” 

A knife-like hint of a smile crept across her plump lips. “Bring it to me.” 

The figure walked solemnly over to the Moon Childe, before kneeling down before her and placing the parcel at her feet. 

“It is said to be the Machine Priest’s finest work yet.” he boasted proudly. 

She unwove the bandaging with delicate hands, revealing a slick blade of polished black metal, bewitched to a complexion so dark that it seemed to drain the colour out of the air around it. 

The Moon Childe took the blade in her left hand, slowly rising to her feet, her enormous stomach visibly wobbling and  jiggling as it was left exposed by her ceremonial robes. 

She gave the sword a quick flourish with a swift flick of her wrist, and it let out a sharp hiss of mechanical splendour and alchemical ingenuity. 

“Bring me an offering to test it on.” The Moon Childe commanded in a voice like thick honey. 


[center] [b]* [/b][/center]

A loud splash pulled her suddenly from her dream.

Jaelith awoke with a dull groan, all bound up in her covers as the ship rocked back and forth. Her fiery red hair was sprawled out across the pillow in a mess of knots and tangles, and thick black bags bulged under her puffy eyes. 


After much tossing and turning, she begrudgingly climbed out of bed, her flabby form shaking as she hit the floor. 

She squeezed herself into a high neck, bright crimson cutout dress, which was short in length in  anticipation of the hot weather, before fixing her tangled tresses with a bottle of hair solution. Deep purple makeup was applied to hide her tiredness, and simple white boots were slid onto her broad feet.

When Jaelith finally emerged from below deck, more than a little cranky from lack of sleep, she was greeted by the sight of several figures mucking about by the ship’s railings. 

“It’s not like I wanted to sleep or anything…” she grumbled to herself, placing one hand on her ample hip in an almighty display of pure sass.