[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4615690]Nokeyeor 1[/url] - [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4665587]Nokeyeor 2[/url] - [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4685536]Nokeyor 3[/url] - [url=http://divinus-ii.wikia.com/wiki/Mesathalassa]Mesathalssa Divinus Wikia page[/url] 

[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4715470]Tsoti 1[/url]

[hider=Quick reminder of characters and places]
Dusklands - A land north of Mesathalassa, west of Pictaraika, where light from the sun is altered by Julkofyr's influence.
Oddlands - Since Ilunabar replaced Julkofyr, the region has been slowly changing as her influence spreads in the form of Glamour. People cannot quite live normally near it, so an exodus has started.
Sunlands/The Coast/The South - Many words used the refer to Mesathalassa in general.

Dzanya - A vague local word used to refer to anything Duskland related. From its people, to its culture to its fauna and flora.

Mavadzugji -  A dedicated priest on a quest to guarantee the future of the dzanya lore. Currently focusing on introducing written language in the dusklands.
Dzora - A tailor who is currently housing the priest, despite not being related to him.
Batsami - One of Dzora's daughters. Dreams to become a traveling musician.
Mutaraka- A merchant who lives in the southern border, often helpful to any refugee trying to outright leave the dusklands towards the south.

Tihtzin - A mercenary general who fought wars in the Western Mesathalassa coast before returning north. (Nokeyeor 2)
Dzamo Pura - Tihtzin's mercenary band while fighting in the south, often the inspiration of many new warriors in the duskland.[/hider]

[hider=Summary / Might-Prestige Usage]
-Mavadzugji recalls an incident in the past he got in trouble for arguing with a master over his belief that the people in the duskland were there before any other sort of people were on galbar.
-Dzora recruits him to spy on Batsami as the girl went to a feast.
-On the path tot he feast, he finds a fellow priest. The priest is more friendly than expected, confusing Mavadzugji who thought he hated him due to the incident. 
-He notices the priest has a bunch of flowers wrapped with ribbons. Later on the party, he sees Batsami has them too.
-Mutaraka, the host of the feast, spots Mavadzugji and asks about his father, the mercenary Tihtzin. The priest informs his father died years ago.
-Turns out the feast had an objective, and it was to raise the locals after a group of foreigners walked into the Sunland and robbed a caravan of people fleeing the oddlands. It is mostly a defense maneuver focused on garrisoning.
-Still curious about the flowers, Mavadzugji starts to follow any party Batsami goes to, even without Dzora asking for it, and does it disguised to avoid trouble. 
-In one of them, he finds a foreign man and starts chatting with him. Turns out the man is an ex-sailor from the Axotal islands and has seen the world. In a jest, the ex-sailor ends up making Mavadzugji confess his identity by saying his name.
-After getting in trouble, the priest confesses to Dzora he was curious about the flowers. Turns out Dzora was the one who invented the whole flower and ribbon thing. It also turns out that said flower and ribbon thing provided a better structure for a written language than anything the priest had ever devised.

Mavadzugji =========
6 initial prestige
10 prestige gained 
-2 for dzanya music
-2 for creating a written language (huto pugji dzanyarara)
-8 for an ideology (reformed tsefo philosophy)

4 prestige remaining.
[/hider]

[h3]Tsoti 2[/h3]
[b] (62 PR)[/b]

Today was the first day in which ambers blazed at the center of the temple. The ceremony just three days ago still featured a fountain and the sound of dripping water filled the holy ground instead of the crackling caused by the burning logs. Temples needed flexibility to properly deal with the rites each epoch required, as such, the local structure was truly little but a wide hole covered with stone seating arranged in an enneagonal shape around the central area, during this time of the year it was covered by sheets made of thick cloth kept up by large wooden poles.

Temples were not seen as a public space but as the private meeting ground of priests. Sometimes there were events in which the locals were invented in and some sort of dramatic rite was performed, a way to keep the prestige of the class going, yet the location was mostly for lectures, discussions, and more serious and necessary rites.

"Dzuji, you should really, really pay more attention to Keho's speeches. He was staring daggers at you," said Tura, one of the few friends Mavadzugji had within the temple.

The priest shrugged. [color=9fc5e8]"Nobody does. Keho's fancy yet contentless talk is only taken seriously at feasts and parties. Thankfully for him, being from a high clan that can gift shiny donations is enough to be a master these days.[/color]

The priestess by his side sighed. "I agree he is boring, but, still... You should really stop picking fights."

[color=9fc5e8]"I already don't."[/color] he had learned not to.

"Well, can't say you didn't get a bit better. If it was poor me in your position during THAT I would have been told to give back my necklace and go back to my clan."

[color=9fc5e8]"That was a miscalculation. I thought the people in here were brighter or more courageous. There was nothing controversial in my speech, it did not break OUR lore, in fact, it exalted it further beyond. Though I also failed, I should not have questioned a master during a rite if I was not ready to defend my claims."[/color]

"Hmm?" that last bit worried her, would that mean he was ready to do it again should he feel safer to confront any of the Elysianite priests he disliked so much? She surely hoped not, after all, he had been doing so well for the last three years.

Her mother always urged her to dissociate from any troublemakers in the temple, unlike people like Mavadzugji, who had strong clans behind them, she had nothing. Her clan was once far more relevant, mine owners in the north, then the oddlands started to spread and the whole northern branch of her family disappeared leaving the southern side helpless, accumulating debts and favors until Tura was bound to serve another clan and very likely end up marrying into some backroom branch of a mediocre clan, in such a situation to just give up it all and join the faith was an easy option, yet the slightest of mistakes could easily send her back to clan life and clan duties.

Yet, she really respected Mavadzugji. At first, he had befriended her for obvious reasons, the man hated clan society, especially the leading ones, even his own. Yet, he also had a genuine interest in what she had to say, he did not care about the origin of her blood, from what region she came, how wealthy she was or that she said Je instead of Gje and casually used Ya and Za. In turn, she too learned to care about what he had to say, she had turned to the priesthood to escape yet she couldn't help but become infected with the man's admiration of the lore and dedication to understanding it.

"Anyway, heard some llahin tchiper is in a village to the southwest. Interesting, no? We have had no lore-keeping exchange with that temple in a while, bet we could get one." she told suddenly, as the last conversation staggered.

Mavadzugji sighed. [color=9fc5e8]"I do not think I will have the time."[/color] he told in a distant voice, eyes fixated in the fire.

This forced the girl to gasp. "What? How can that be? Are you some sort of impostor? I would never imagine you would deny such an opportunity."

There was no answer, if the young woman had not been so attentive she would have missed his only reaction as his shoulders tensed up. She took a moment and sighed.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly. Trying to not question him too much, but anyone would have seen by now that in the last few weeks he had been anxious and distant.

[color=9fc5e8]"Yeah, sort of."[/color]

She would take that as a no. "You know, you should not let it get you. You can't change the whole world, I know it is frustrating when all our paths are blocked and we feel insignificant but..."

[color=9fc5e8]"You are mistaken."[/color] he interrupted her suddenly. [color=9fc5e8]"First of all, we are in a prestigious temple, this town is becoming more relevant as the oddlands expand and the temple is at the center of it, we are the keepers of the lore that will define the next generations."[/color]

That was more characteristic of him, Tura thought, cold and blunt comments that offended many, but she had learned they were not there to humiliate or exalt his own ego, it more that Mavadzugji had to remember so much from all the corners of the duskland and beyond that there was little room left in his head for proper communication skills.

[color=9fc5e8]"Second... I am tense because of the opposite. Because I now feel I can change things. Actions have consequences... and if they are not good ones, I would be responsible for them."[/color]

The priestess chuckled at that yet her eyebrows denounced the feeling of surprise she felt. It was easier for you to find a Hain with skin than for him to share his feelings. "You are afraid of hurting somebody? I thought your dream was to cull Elysianite influence and restore the proper lore of the Dzanya."

[color=9fc5e8]"Well, it is not them I am afraid to hurt. It is more on the ground of... how I can influence the people. What if I, for example, said something that could in some way justify a harmful behavior?"[/color]

"I do not think you are capable of such a thing. You are stubborn and all, but you are a good person."

You are mistaken, he thought, but he did not voice his words. She was the very example of how he could hurt someone, he had always caused her trouble even if that was far from his wish. In the past, he had the excuse of not being in control of the situation, this time he knew what he was doing.

[hr]

It was absolutely hopeless. He appreciated the mysterious kinsman for his effort, but the language used in that clay tablet was simply not usable. The person's ability in wordcraft was great but that did not translate to a great language at all. Mavadzugji at first theorized the convolution of the script was a result of influences from other languages, yet by now he knew how to read almost all the major languages of the sunlit south yet nothing came close to being this arcane in meaning and full of torturous rules.

One thing that it did greatly, however, was to leave no one behind. He had no doubt that it could work for any dialect or variation of the language quite nicely, it was not fashioned to only fit the needs of the clan courts and temples. Then again, since it took so much time to learn and another eternity to master, it likely did not fit anyone's need except the dubious sorts, such as spies, lawyers, and poets.

With such thoughts in mind, the next step was obvious, he had to develop his own path, the future of his people depended on it. He thought about just incorporating and adapting the systems of the south, yet they were built for different tongues spoken by equally different people. The man was sure none would fit the Dzanyarara in all of its graceful yet objective nature, furthermore, beyond the more conceptual issue, there was a more direct one, his language was built with perfect pairs of vowels and consonants, the added h, r, and n sounds being the one exception yet even those were always part of a group and never isolated. It was all very different from mesathalassa where the north seemed to barely voice the vowels and the south did the extreme opposite.

Another day had passed, and as gentle as the difference was in the land under the dusk, it still felt immense to him, who fell on the hardened clay floor and sighed.

Not too soon after, Dzora entered the room, looking both ways around the central atrium of the donut-shaped home. "Since it seems you are once again busy with nothing but groaning while looking at the ceiling, could you do me a little favor?"

His eyes shot up while he was still on the ground, his face leaning back so he could see the woman.

"Good. Batsami is going to the little feast our friend Mutaraka is making. I wanted you to go and make sure the girl does not do anything foolish."

[color=9fc5e8]"Wait, Mutaraka is in the city?"[/color] he questioned, confused, usually, you heard when the rich merchant from the south showed up.

"He is not. That is the little detail of our question. She is going to be traveling for what, three hours, just to a feast? I know our friend Mutaraka is good at showing his wealth but that might be a little much, do you not agree?"

[color=9fc5e8]"Maybe she just wants to play songs or something. Do not worry."[/color]

"Maybe I will forget which foods caused your face to go red next time I make a meal, but do not worry."

Message received. With a sigh, the priest stood up. [color=9fc5e8]"Well then, off to the feast. Is she off already?"[/color]

"At Hirike's. They will go together with Hirike's brothers. They should be off already, but Batsami being Batsami, they will likely be late. The feast is at Kutomiri"

[color=9fc5e8]"Kutomiri?"[/color]

"Upstream from Kutonyarhar"

[hr]

It was a pleasant evening, the priest looked up with a smile as he observed the moons and the two stars along with the stark contrast between the dark lang and the brighter sky. Following river Kuto, the road was always a nice time, the river was gentle until it neared the southern border and as such was easy to navigate, even better if you could afford someone to do the rowing like the priest could.

Suddenly, someone gasped. "Hoh! Mavadzugji." a male voice suddenly yelled, before the man just outright started running towards the boat, following the shore road. "Seems like you have some free spots on the boat. Mind giving a friend a seat?"

He immediately recognized the man as a priest like him. He had little reason to be thoughtful towards him. He likely mocked him when he presented his theories, he had a little mustache which was just unacceptable, furthermore... While thinking over the reasons for him to be bitter, he accidentally made a signal with his head that could be loosely interpreted as "Hop-in" if you really, really wanted to hear that. The running man did not need another signal before he boarded the little boat.

Being too shy to say no when this close to someone he did not know, Mavadzugji just stood there, seeing the man find a seat by his side. "Nice! Thanks. I was getting sore from walking so much. I wanted to get some money to afford a new pair of shoes, but I missed the chance." Mavadzugji noted the other priest was definitely in need of new shoes, he was basically walking barefoot.

[color=9fc5e8]"I... could give you new ones? The house where I live has a few spares..."[/color]

"Oh no, do not worry. I would be embarrassed to rely on someone like that."

Mavadzugji almost rose an eyebrow, he clearly wasn't, free boat ride considered. But seeing his hurt feet, he felt legitimately bad for the man even if he was sure he likely wronged him in the past. 

"I will get my money this night. I will be doing a little job at the feast. Few words, a bit of poetry. I got a long and clean Feh line ready, then I will follow it with a Fen and a Fer. Everyone will love it." he stopped and chuckled. "You don't care much about that stuff, do you?"

[color=9fc5e8]"Ah. Not really. I mean, I respect it."[/color] he lied. [color=9fc5e8]"But... I only have the mind to focus on the lore."[/color]

"Oh yeah. You do it well too. You... You said some stuff, long ago, did you not? I do not remember it well, something about... uh.... we being different from other Hahar?"

The other priest was shocked. How did he not remember that? He was sure to the core this man, Tzevami, had more than once laughed at him while he talked, recently too, and had done it ever since Mavadzugji fought with a master, just like everyone else. He was confused, usually, he was good at reading people's intentions, yet he did not notice insincere signs on his face...

[color=9fc5e8]"Yes, yes. Also that we were here before the llahin were crafted by Hanya Bupudzagje in his envy of Hatzi Momudzagje and before other Hahar left Momumepo's realm. I said that and fought for that idea, but I was too young, and could not really back it."[/color] he told nervously.

"It happens. You gotta get more people with you, a group could do more, get more information and also resist pressure better. Because like, people are attached to Momumepo, and if you come around saying we did not live in her land before being banished to the realm of Momuhedzu, well, they will get angry." he told distractedly, shifting through his bag and wrapping ribbons on flowers, making Mavadzugji struggle as he split his attention between his words and his actions.

[color=9fc5e8]"I... I know. I thought at the time the implication of significance to our culture would have been enough."[/color]

"The older people just don't care. Like, uh, so, imagine me, and you, and Batsami, and, who is the girl that you talk with all the time again? Toh... ta...Tura!" once again Mavadzugji was left surprised, that he knew Batsami by name like that, but he did not bring that up to not cut his thoughts off. "We all see ourselves as part of the same group, right? But if you stop to think about it, we were all born into different tribes. To us, that is irrelevant, we share a town and all that. But a lot of people stick to that, not only the old ones, we are lucky this region found peace, because to the west instead of living together the tribes just started fighting over each inch of land."

Each word of Tzevami was followed by a nod from him. He could see now that his observation was correct in all aspects. [color=9fc5e8]"I guess I had never appreciated this region for its peace. It also explains why the temple is so rich in knowledge."[/color]

"Yeah. Though not having to pick up a spear is by far the best part of it. Gah." the priest answered, before suddenly standing up on his seat. "Oh, listen to that. Rutohidzanyi styled music. The feast is here."

Mavadzugji nodded, then couldn't help but to stare while Tzevami started to separate the flowers within his bag, making sure each group of flowers wrapped on ribbons would not get mixed with the others. Too curious at this point he was about to ask about it when Tzevami suddenly jumped out. "I am a bit late, I need to do a lot. I will be going, see you there. Oh, and meet me later, I will pay my share of the boat."

[hr]

The priest had some issues about Rutohidzanyi music being played when Auricolor was not the dominant moon, sure, twins based music was not exactly party like, but, with some effort, some Mepodzanyi styled songs could work. That aside, the party was nice, so much so that he almost forgot to keep his eyes alert for when Batsami arrived.

In fact, he did fully neglect the task until the last second, when he suddenly spotted the girl. Dzora had got herself some odd threads with a golden shine to them, she used them to make a hat for her daughter. The seamstress' work already looked quite beautiful normally, he had no doubt Batsami would look cute with the round hat on her head even if it used normal threads, the fancy ones, however, made her stand out, which ended up being very useful for him this night.

She spotted him with the corner of her eyes and pondered for a moment. If he had arrived after her, she would think he was following her, but, as he had been there before, she guessed he was story hunting again. Since that was the case, she allowed herself to smile and wave at him.

Soon after, a woman gave her flowers... not any flower, they were wrapped in ribbons. She looked at them for a long moment and then smiled, nodding to the woman, who soon left without saying a word.

He was about to stand up and go talk with her when suddenly he felt an arm touch him on his shoulder. A tall man was looking at him, his face was so red you could see the color even on the dominant grey of the duskland and his clothes sparkled with silver details. It was the host himself, Mutaraka.

"Good to see you!" he suddenly said, causing Mavadzugji to be confused.

[color=9fc5e8]"I don't think we have met, sir."[/color] he answered, wondering if he should add 'maybe you are confused' to his words, he feared they could be seen as offensive and he did not know how the host well enough to not use the safest of wordings.

"Hahaha, I guess you were too young. I barely recognized you until someone mentioned 'the priest sitting alone near the fire' by name. You are Tihtzin's boy, right?"

[color=9fc5e8]"That is correct, sir. You met my dad before?"[/color]

"Met..." this time he laughed loudly. "I fought by his side!"

One of his wives laughed and approached the two. "Do not let his words fool you, he fought with Tihtzin once in a festival. Not on the Sunland campaign."

"Gjah" he gasped at his story being shot down like that. "Anyway, you were with Dzora this whole time? If I knew I would have visited you sooner, long time since I last saw that fox of a man. How is he."

[color=9fc5e8]"He died sir. It has been a while now."[/color] he told in a passive voice, it had been so long, he did not feel much emotion towards it anymore, furthermore, his extended family had done most of the raising while his father was aways distant.

"Ah. I cannot believe it." Mutaraka was visibly annoyed at that news.

"I am sorry to hear that. Uh, your mother..." the wife started but was cut.

[color=9fc5e8]"Never met her in person. She did not live with my father."[/color]

"Are we talking about the same person? I swore he..." the wife continued, confused.

[color=9fc5e8]"He married someone after he returned. She is still alive if that is what you are asking."[/color]

"Oh, that is good news, I was worried for a moment. She was my friend back in the days." the wife continued. "It was me, her and Dzora."

"Such a shame, this always happens and I never learn, I always leave unfinished business." the tall man continued on his immense display of slight annoyance. "Was it an accident or something? A fight?"

[color=9fc5e8]"Drowned. He was always a heavy drinker, kept exaggerating more and more each time, was walking down the road and fell downhill into a stream, we think."[/color]

"That sounds like possible murder!" he declared.

[color=9fc5e8]"We checked for signals of a fight, there was none. Furthermore, he had fallen asleep on roads before."[/color]

The host continued to deal poorly with the news, he did not know the man well enough to take the worst of it, but he had a certain respect for the man, it was sad to hear he had such an undignified end. "You never know, in these troubled times the shady sorts get increasingly crafty."

"Oh look, the Dyetzu's Tsahi Pura arrived." the wife suddenly noticed. "We should welcome then, dear. And get 'everything' ready." it was the whole reason for the feast, after all. The man nodded.

"If you ever need anything, boy, talk to me. Do not be proud. Your father was a great man, and I can see that same shine in your eyes." Mutaraka told before turning away.

"Tell Dzora I said hi! Tell your stepmother she still owes me half of the loot." the wife added before following him.

Mavadzugji sighed. At this side of the duskland, it was rare for people to know him or his father. While typically he did not like to be linked to the old general, this was interesting news, he wondered if Mutaraka could get him some new tablets from the south, he only had the few he inherited. He had heard a counselor to Runza had been recording the queen's thoughts since her coronation, and of all southern rulers, none seemed to hold more valuable knowledge.

"Talking with the host, are you?" a sudden voice questioned. It was Batsami, who now fully believed that the priest was not there to spy on her, but was also suddenly interested after he talked with Mutaraka himself. Despite the way her mother spoke about him, with the ironic 'our friend', the family had little contact with the wealthy man. "Do you know him personally?" the musician asked, curious and very interested in the possibility.

[color=9fc5e8]"He knew a relative, never spoke to him until this day."[/color] the priest confessed.

"Hallelle, well, forget it then." she told, frowning. "Really thought I had lucked out."

[color=9fc5e8]"What is it that you wanted? I mean, he seemed fond of me and I would not mind helping."[/color]

"It is not something I can ask you to do. I just... look, forget it." she told, adjusting the hat on her head slightly so it stayed centered. Being such an adventurous girl, one would think Batsami would have ditched the light wooden frame of the fadjera, a type of round brimless hat, as advancements in tailoring made it unnecessary and only old ladies still wore it with the frame, yet the girl, ever astute, simply decided that if she wore it with the frame she would stand out the most. She was absolutely right, with Dzora's designs and her natural beauty the flat crown and straight look outshone the more flexible shape the others had. 

The priest knew Dzora was proud of that, though she hardly conveyed it with words, she knew her daughter had the wits of a proper tailor. It was an often overlooked aspect of the vocation, at most it was the subject of local jokes about them being great at making ropes and finding out how thick necks are, but to move away from being a simple clothmaker to starting to serve the needs of the upper-classes one needed to be able to see beyond what was popular now and instead prepare to what would be desired in the future. The issue was that the musician lacked the one trait that was needed to even become the simplest of cloth wavers, patience, and that was probably the reason why her mother did not have a proud smile always on her face.

[color=9fc5e8]"Well, if you say so, but I would be glad to help anyway I can. Oh right, this reminds me of something, do you know any other priest of the temple beyond me?"[/color]

The girl suddenly tilted her head slightly, wondering why that question was being asked. "Tura?"

[color=9fc5e8]"No, I mean, not a... a male priest, that is."[/color] while many languages differentiated male from a female priestess, the most popular and powerful views on the lore and religion of the Dusklands not only lacked them, they avoided them on principle. Justifications were many, from avoiding favoritism towards Momumepo or Momuhedzu, to helping to keep the priests away from mortal issues, among others. Truth be told, Mavadzugji suspected it was just a desperate attempt at separating the temple from the vices of the clan society.

Now she wondered if the priest was not there spying on her after all. Though she was caught on a hard spot, she knew he was good at reading the emotions of people he knew well, so she did not want to lie. She was also good at identifying intentions herself, and she knew it was a rhetorical question sheepherding her towards a situation. It was best to be sincere.

"Tzevami?" she said.

[color=9fc5e8]"Ah, right. So you know him, good. He mentioned you by name so I was a bit suspicious."[/color]

The musician gasped. "Of me?"

The priest shook his head emphatically, [color=9fc5e8]"Oh no no, of him. He could be trying to break certain temple codes, or worse, he could be stalking your... or something."[/color]

Batsami suspect that was the case, but it was hilarious to drag Mavadzugji out of his comfort zone, the priest's dark skin gaining a red tone to it. "Ah no, nothing like that. He knows a lot about the lore behind music and song, and I have an interest in that, in the case you have not noticed."

[color=9fc5e8]"Wait a moment, have I not already talked with you about that? I was one of the persons who actually helped to formalize the whole thing, Tzevami had little to do with that."[/color]

"Ah, you did? I swear I do not remember it. In all honesty, I tend to zone off when I am playing an instrument, and that seems to attract people wanting to speak with me like moths to a flame." There was also a difference in the way the two priests spoke, Tzevami was objective and made sure he was introducing any information in a swallowable pace, Mavadzugji was more akin to being in the middle a river during peak torrent season.

[color=9fc5e8]"And it is not even like the people here are following the rules, anyway."[/color]

Once again she tilted her head, sneakily adjusting her hat which had once again lost its even position on her head. "But we are?"

[color=9fc5e8]"I hear Rutohidzanyi music, but I do not see Rutohidzanyi in the sky. Only the bright light of the twins."[/color]

"Well, we don't follow it all the time. But we will do one song for Mepodzanyi during the dances and one for Hedzudzanyi during the practice battles."

He rolled his eyes wanting to say it just didn't work like that, but he knew it would only drag the conversation further into bickering territory. Then he suddenly stopped in the middle of the eye-roll, raising his eyebrows, there was an overabundant use of 'we' there. Usually, musicians worked independently, and she had never mentioned anything of the sort.

She read him like a glove, seeing something caught him in her sentence, but she misunderstood what. "Don't worry, it is just a practice, not a real battle. Wooden weapons are used and while those can hurt, it was not like some as gallant as Llapur Dyetzu would push it past what is safe."

The priest looked confused for a moment, then he understood the close call and did his part to leave without suspicion. [color=9fc5e8]"I see, I heard Mutaraka talking about that clan and their army."[/color]

"The Tsahi Banner, yes. They have fought many battles against bandits and even outright robber clans preying on those escaping the north." there was a gleam in her eyes and a showcase of emotion that was not so typical of someone as sly. The priest started to suspect something, though by now he had many more questions beyond the one Dzora wanted to know.

[color=9fc5e8]"Oh, you dropped some flowers from your bag."[/color] he told, bending down and picking them before they got trampled. [color=9fc5e8]"What is up with these ribbons anyway? Saw so many people with them."[/color]

"Oh? It's just ribbons. Decorations. Surely even a priest knows what that is." she told, and if she had not shown such a sincere happy face a moment before he could even be fooled by her ability to look passive and put up a fake smile. Furthermore, she was trying to provoke him, usually, she did that to bait the conversation and the other person's mind away from the main issue. Those ribbons must have some purpose, he thought.

He wondered if he should press it or not, then Batsami moved forward, shoving him aside to stare at the main open field of the location. The warriors had moved in. As the use of Pura, banner, even though the group was not a mercenary one suggested, Tsahi Pura seemed heavily inspired by people like Mavadzugji's father, even their armor was similar to the one Tihtzin had.

Llapur Dyetzu walked in the middle of them, he, oddly, had a bow. Not a typical weapon choice, considering the nature of the dusklands, ranged weapons were not all that useful. To his side, his two brothers walked along, the middle one seemed proud, showing off a bit by spinning a knife, but the younger one looked quite miserable and if not for their similar appearance he would have guessed he was a squire to the gallant warrior. Probably of the pacifist sort, the priest deduced, much like himself.

Other armies, including the one that protected Mohavumika, Dzora's hometown and where he lived now, was there. He was quite impressed, so it truly was some sort of military event, what was the need for it though? The priest couldn't tell. He shot his glance to the side and saw Batsami absolutely awestruck by the warrior, there was Dzora's answer, but he feared to break the lady away from her trance to ask what were the circumstances.

Thankfully, soon he would get his answer, apparently. A woman stepped towards the middle of the field, being helped through the long walk by Llapur. She had scars fresh on her face and body and seemed to be haunted by something.

As she did so, the priest felt something odd within his chest. [color=9fc5e8]"Wait a moment... Where have I seen this person before?"[/color] he thought and thought, and then he remembered Dzora, that was the woman she was talking with last season, the one who took the blankets and his map. But... she did not have that many scars.

He winced, realizing what happened. Vultures were attracted by hard times. She confirmed it as she started to talk about what happened to the crowd, encouraged on by the host, about how her family was ambushed and how much she lost on that savage attack. Meanwhile, the priest's head worked around the why of this being the center spot. Not that he did not think it was terrible, but bandits attacked people, such was life, especially past the border of the dusk. 

Nevertheless, he immediately decided to sink back into the crowd and start to leave. As Tihtzin's son, he was sure Mutaraka would ask him to join whatever was happening there despite him not being a warrior and he would hate that. To his surprise, that all was a surprise, it seemed the host had not told anyone anything beyond the fact the warriors would do a little showcase of combat. 

It seemed like it just took a blink for him to be back at the riverport and away from the 'feast'. His mind was still on the woman and the importance that was being given, he told himself he would likely know the answer tomorrow as it seemed like it was the sort of news that would fly faster than lightning, yet, he couldn't help to make suppositions.

Considering how many days had passed, the fact she couldn't pay all that much money for the best river ferries and the dryness of the season making certain rivers hard to navigate, she couldn't be truly past the dusklands when she was attacked. The region was peaceful for sure, but attacks were not unheard...

The scars! He knew there was something particularly odd about the scars. He had seen them before, the oval shape and the depth, the distribution around the arms and shoulders, especially on the backside. Those were arrow scars, he only saw one man with those injuries before, his father. The people from the dusk favored melee in combat and traps in the hunt, few used arrows. It was more of a sunlander weapon...

He gasped, mimicking the reaction the crowd had earlier when the woman explained the situation after the priest left. [color=9fc5e8]"Oh kufu. I did right in leaving earlier."[/color] he told himself.

[hr]

(62 PR)

It took a while for the conversation to move away from the hot topic of the attack. Especially with Dzora, who had talked with the woman personally. Mavadzugji now had the full scope of the situation, and while he was right in his deduction, the end result was not as bad as he thought. It seemed the festival was not to try to raise the people up for some war but to do a simple recruitment drive for more watchmen to look after the roads and rivers. Furthermore, Mutaraka wanted to send warriors south to better garrison the Dzanya settlements in the sunland. Yet, the priest couldn't help but worry about the situation in the Duskland/North Mesathalassa border, as despite the different circumstances and sparse populations, it could end up much like the Western one.

"Well then, we have been talking about so much, but what about Batsami, did she do anything questionable there?"

[color=9fc5e8]"She played a lot of music. Didn't even drink. I also discovered she knows a priest from the temple..."[/color]

"Tzevami, right?"

[color=9fc5e8]"Oh... you knew?"[/color]

"Of course I do. But worry not, that is just a little group thing, they talk about music and work together to find feasts and such, divide payments and gifts, and so on. Seems like simple young people stuff."

[color=9fc5e8]"Ah! So you also know the group as a whole."[/color]

"You don't? Oh dear, you need to work on your observation skills a little. And furthermore, underestimating a tailor huh? Didn't you hear the one about the gallows?"

[color=9fc5e8]"Sorry."[/color]

"Just joking. Though, since we are apologizing, I would like to say sorry too. I will be honest with you, I just sent you there because you seemed like you could use it, instead..."

[color=9fc5e8]"You couldn't have known. It was all very theatrical."[/color]

"Theatrical?"

[color=9fc5e8]"It's a thing Llahin do. Its like storytelling but the people pretend to be characters."[/color]

"Weird... Well, did you see clan Dyetzu? I keep hearing so much about them!"

[color=9fc5e8]"From Batsami?"[/color]

"Not only from her... but now that you mention it, I think she is my main source about their feats and courage and so on."

[color=9fc5e8]"I think she is interested in Llapur Dyetzu."[/color]

The inhaled and then laughed, trying to stop herself but outright failing. "Oh, the poor thing. I could have a crate worth of those golden strings from the oddlands and I would still not be able to be of a status great enough for a clan Dyetzu lad to even wonder about looking at her."

[color=9fc5e8]"Ouch."[/color] the priest winced.

"It's the bare truth. They also have couple based marriages, can't even remarry after losing a partner, so her chances are just extremely low."

[color=9fc5e8]"I am not the best judge, but she is beautiful and smart. Furthermore, you just never know, would you imagine the son of a folk hero like Tihtzin living with you?"[/color]

"Yes because I was friends with your stepmother. This is different. I mean, I would love for her to marry into a rich clan, but if we are to be realistic... I just can't support such ideas."

[color=9fc5e8]"Where is she anyway? I didn't see her during the morning."[/color]

"Oh, she left again, another evening, another party. This one is closer thankfully."

The priest raised an eyebrow, for reasons Dzora did not understand, he seemed interested.

[hr]

He felt ridiculous, but there was no other choice. He wondered if he had openly wronged Tura somewhere, but he knew no one else who could help him with such an issue. 

"Don't worry." She said. "Nobody will recognize you! These fibers look just like hair, this mustache is the correct shade of white and the hat hides your features."

It worked so far, but the priest who was already awkward was now fulltime miserable. This was the second party he wore this, following Batsami but trying to not be spotted. It was not the girl he was interested in, it was the flowers. He now knew the group, but not the odd flower exchanging. He had asked around the temple and even a few of the girl's friends but they just did not know a thing. Not even the local watchman seemed to know.

He had picked up a few noteworthy details, it seemed the type of flowers was not random, a suspicion confirmed by the fact the same sets were given on similar occasions, such as a musician's arrival into the feast. Past that, so far, he couldn't break the code.

Since Jofumidzanyi was the ruling moon, it was time for songs with string instruments and notes that lasted longer. Yet, it was Batsami's lamellophone that truly shone, despite being a relatively more neutral and quiet sound even when the moons favored it as the lead.

CLAP CLAP CLAP

The sound felt like nails on the gentle melody. Batsami did not stop playing, but it seemed like she was one more clap away from forcing the group of musicians to play a funerary tune for the song disruptor. Thankfully, the person was quick to read the glances and stop his hands.

Looking around from where the sound came, the priest gasped. It was not a local who simply couldn't resist the natural urges to follow the song but instead, the person was foreign. Like a moth to a flame, the priest walked to his side quite quickly, usually, he was too shy to introduce himself first, but in the face of interesting people, he didn't seem to think twice.

[color=9fc5e8]"Hello friend, are you new here? You shouldn't really clap during songs, we don't really like percussion over here. I know its odd, but it is how it is."[/color]

"Not too new, friend. I didn't know much about music though! From the words you said, I assume tapping my feet on the ground is also rude."

[color=9fc5e8]"Absolutely."[/color] he added. Taking a moment to look at this person. His accent was different from any he knew, his looks were also not one he knew, he had the facial structure of a human from north mesathalassa, yet his skin was not pale like theirs', yet it was not dark like those from Imga or some of the Dzanya, it was tan with a hint of a copper-like color.

"Harsh. But I will try to do my best. The girl with the... hat looked like she was about to murder me." 'cheese wheel hat' was what he wanted to say, a common description of such flat and round shape in his land but it had the danger of being seen as mockery elsewhere.

[color=9fc5e8]"I am sorry. We are hospitable people usually, but... well, some of us take music very seriously."[/color]

"No, no. I am sorry. No wonder everyone has been staring at me since I entered the dusklands!"

[color=9fc5e8]"Ah, no, that might have to do with something else. There has been an incident, foreigners attacked a local caravan of refugees from the oddlands...?"[/color] the priest winced at the sudden leaning forward the foreign man did. He now saw his hair was grey, but not Dzanya grey, it was aged past a natural black tone.

"Oh sorry for startling you. Used to sail a ship, so I have this habit of going close to others to listen to them, in the sea the voices have a hard time competing with the waves and the wind. But thank you for that information, I had no idea about this situation."

[color=9fc5e8]"You are a sailor? From which Harbor Kingdom?"[/color]

The man laughed. "I said I was in the sea, not on the coast like the typical harbor boy from Mesathalassa."

[color=9fc5e8]"So not from Mesathalassa! I have never met anyone who is not from the south!"[/color] now the priest was the one showing alarming amounts of interest.

"No no, think a bit east of that." the sailor said with a smirk

[color=9fc5e8]"East...? OH! From the Farevinde? Veterotse? Mahade?"[/color]

The foreigner took a moment tilting his head, trying to understand just what he was saying, the last one gave it away. "Oh... No.... well, I lived in an area near the great 'sandlands' for a while, sadly never saw Vetros. Nevertheless, it is not the land that is my homeland. Think east of that."

His eyes widened. [color=9fc5e8]"It couldn't possibly be... Halleperiha where Momuhedzu lives."[/color]

"Uhm, who is this Momuhedzu? I keep hearing the name but..."

The priest looked to both his sides to make sure no one was looking, he was about to commit a crime. [color=9fc5e8]"Llifeperatsille."[/color]

"Ah! I see. You can't really say the god's names, right? Oh... Uhm, no. East of that." he laughed apologetically as the local man's eyes lost that sense of wonder.

[color=9fc5e8]"Oh... Well then... East of that... Tzertseh?"[/color]

"Xerxes? No, east of that. Though my grandfather was from such a region."

Now he felt he was being mocked, east of that was the very ocean that was west of the dusklands! Unless... [color=9fc5e8]"Llorun?"[/color] he felt too tall and too human to be from there though.

"Hmmm.... South of that."

[color=9fc5e8]"Tabatah? ... Momuhnyar?"[/color]

"Greater heaven?" 

[color=9fc5e8]"Momuh, not momu."[/color]

"Ah! Great Ring. Nope. West of that."

[color=9fc5e8]"I give up, unless you are born on the sea, I do not know what land that is."[/color]

The foreigner laughed. "Axotal. The islands in the Metatic."

The priest continued to have a confused gaze. [color=9fc5e8]"I am sorry, I mean no ofence, but I have never heard of such lands before."[/color]

The ex-sailor sighed, it made sense, only the most legendary of locations made it across the continents if they did not have a history of trade with a region. He was impressed somewhere as isolated as this land even knew so many places, though he suspected this young man was not the correct sample to determine the average.

[color=9fc5e8]"And wouldn't it be WEST of here, anyway?"[/color]

"I said the route I made, from there, to here... and before you get excited, no, I did not go through Alefpria."

[color=9fc5e8]"Shame. But it seems like an amazing journey nevertheless. Have you ever seen a tiger-horse? A whale? A llama?"[/color]

"Yes to the last two, never heard of the... OH! Damn it. Yan really did that, can't believe the maniac." suddenly the foreigner was snickering to himself, almost laughing aloud, before Batsami stared daggers at him for the nuisance and he went quiet.

[color=9fc5e8]"Could I ask what you are doing here? I can't imagine... you know, a sailor all the way up here..."[/color]

"Waiting for my wife mostly. And I am no longer a sailor, have not been since I was about your age."

[color=9fc5e8]"Ah! Is she from your island too? What do you do now?"[/color]

"No. She is from here... Well... Let me correct it, she is from the south. Met her on my first trip to this region. It was very different back then." he then smiled. "And I am a priest, much like you."

Mavadzugji gasped. 

"It is easy to notice, especially since you follow the local rules of how a priest should keep his hair short and his face smooth. The costume is not too great either, though only from up close. The duskland favor disguises, it seems."

[color=9fc5e8]"I am disguised for a good reason, nothing shady."[/color] 

"You seem like a good person. So do not worry..." suddenly the aging man looked up, rubbing his chin, the priest couldn't notice anything to justify such a reaction. "Well, that is my call. It was nice talking to you, hadn't chatted with someone since I arrived in here."

The priest barely had a moment to react before the foreigner was about to leave, but something made the man stop, almost as if he was unsure what to do. "Say... what is your name?"

[color=9fc5e8]"Mavadzugji, sir."[/color] he answered, causing the foreigner to grin and turn around. A few eyes were on them after they suddenly raised to their feet, including Batsami. The priest took a deep breath and looked back at the frowning musician. [color=9fc5e8]"Kufu"[/color] he whispered to himself.

[hr]

"So... why were you stalking Batsami anyway? I only asked you to do it once." Dzora asked, sighing. She had to spend a whole evening reassuring her daughter she was not the one who sent the priest to look after her. 

[color=9fc5e8]"It was nothing, just some odd behavior from her I was trying to understand."[/color]

The seamstress looked at him with expectant eyes. "Well, go on then. I am a little worried about you suddenly saying my daughter is engaging in odd behaviors."

[color=9fc5e8]"Well, she has been exchanging flowers with a few people"[/color]

"Please tell me its only the white, blue and black ones, not the expensive yellow or pink sort of flower."

[color=9fc5e8]"The flowers were simple, but the odd thing is, they wrap ribbons around flowers and it seems to..."[/color]

Dzora cut him off. "Oh, I wonder how she learned it. I have never taught her that."

The priest turned his head but kept staring at the owner of the home. [color=9fc5e8]"Taught? Taught what?"[/color]

"Oh, that thing with the flowers. It was a little thing I used to do with my husband. See, we were from competing tribes so it was hard to communicate, we could ask friends or servants to say this or that but they always gossiped about such topics." she smiled, remembering the old times. "After I was caught one too many times, I was sent north to live with a branch of the family. Met your stepmother and Vallora," Mutaraka's second wife, "there. We used to explore together and one day we found... fairies."

The priest could remember that old story, which both Dzora and his stepmom swore was true but he did not quite believe it at all.

"Well, while spying on them, we noticed something, fairies would leave flowers arranged in certain ways over certain places to signal things. I guess like hunters do in the south with wood carving," she explained. "So! When I came back, I had this idea. What if I did the same? So, I began doing the flower and ribbon thing and we were never caught again. Weird that somehow Batsami learned it, guess her father must have shown it to her."

[color=9fc5e8]"And how does it work?"[/color]

The seamstress giggled, it was funny how obsessed the priest was with such a silly children play. "Give me a moment, I will get a flower and be back." she told, before soon returning. "Here. What flower is this."

[color=9fc5e8]"Rotse."[/color]

"Right! First sound, ro." she smiled and wrapped a ribbon on it. "Now this part is less intuitive, it couldn't be too obvious, but this wrap, it's an I."

The priest's eyes widened, words seemed to barely form on his mind at the moment. [color=9fc5e8]"So... the flower is the consonant and the ribbon the vowel?"[/color]

"Yes. Oh, and pay attention to this." she took out a knife and gently took out some cloth from the extremities of the wrap. "A flat-ended ribbon is just Ri, but now I made it Rin."

[color=9fc5e8]"How many flowers are there?"[/color] his voice was cracking with feelings he couldn't quite decipher.

"Rotse, Djakaran, Tsumu, Kadja, Badja Fanyimuka, Potanyagja, Tzitzi, Gjadzara, Tura, Llinari, Matetse, Dzadzomi Fanyimuka, Nyilli, Vallora, Fanyimuka, Hongjo."

[color=9fc5e8]"Re, Dje, Tse, Ke, Be, Pe, Tze, Gje, Te, Lle, Me, Dze, Nye, Ve, Fe, He."[/color] he whispered to himself as she went. He felt that was a good combination, especially the way she pronounced it. It was mostly Dzora's local dialect but it had a few hints of the ones used in the north, especially the Dje sound. No Dye, Ye, We or the variations of Tie, Tae, that often popped up in the south due to foreigner influence, which did not solve his problem with cutting certain dialects out.

[color=9fc5e8]"And the vowels?"[/color]

"Oh, you know, just O, U, A, I, E." while the sounds seemed reasonable, the seamstress made a little movement with her hand, finger starting near her mouth for the O, then lowering with a U, raising to the left for the A, up and center with the I, before the whole hand was put in a horizontal and straight position over the neck at the E. He had seen people doing that spiral movement before, but he was finally starting to see the sense into it. The locals spoke the vowels O, A and E without moving many muscles, but U was made with a downward movement while their "I" was with an upward one. This cemented the priest' idea that limiting it to five vowels would be a good idea, even if there was some variation... a lot, in fact, in the west where he was born many lacked the I and spoke with a sound more like AI, while in the north the almost mute and very short E was changed for a longer E sound. Yet, there was always some sort of equivalency, moreover, the way Dzora did it seemed to mimic the rules of the R, N, H sounds used after vowels, which were global to most dialects and followed a simple upward, middle, downward trinity. This gave him the impression it was a natural aspect of the Dzanya language to have that spiral of vowels.

Yet, above all, it was still the flower-ribbon that caught his eyes the most. It was an elegant solution to the way the language was paced. Ideograms like an adapted traveler code just did not seem compatible with the word variation and pace of the Dzanyarara, whilst mimicking the harbor kingdom's scripts just added too much repetition with an unneeded freedom for vowels considering the dusklands had a hard syllable composition of 'Consonant-Vowel-(Consonant)' and had no natural cases of sounds that could work as either such as Y or W, proper language also lacked diphthongs. It also did not emulate the strong separation between syllabic units, words like Tarri looked odd when written in the southern code but with Dzora's solution it became a much more recognizable (tar)(ri).

[color=9fc5e8]"Did you know... that I was working with the language?"[/color] he suddenly asked the seamstress. 

"Yes? You had those clay things and all. Why?"

[color=9fc5e8]"Then why didn't you mention this before?"[/color] he almost yelled, not out of anger but out of confusion and anxiety.

"Well... this is just a child's play, and when you tried to explain how to 'read' those tablets it sounded so confusing and complex, you could fill your whole room with so many symbols. Talking about something so simple would likely just annoy you, I thought."

[color=9fc5e8]"No... On the contrary. I was searching for something simple but could only find complex solutions. Yours work perfectly."[/color]

"Ah... Well then, you are welcome." she chuckled. "But let me tell you, its hard to buy all those flowers and cloths for ribbons, there was one time during winter where I was all out of Nyilli blooms to..."

[color=9fc5e8]"Oh, I do not mean the whole thing, just the structure."[/color]

"I had you for a moment but I think I lost you again."

[color=9fc5e8]"Let me show you."[/color] he quickly took the knife she had used on the ribbon and started carving on the ground. [color=9fc5e8]"I will turn the Rotse into a vertical line... then the ribbon into a horizontal line... and in the right end of the horizontal line, a little stroke to..."[/color]

"Oh, Rin, I see." the seamstress nodded, looking with curiosity at the symbol. Mavadzugji saw it as well. He finally had it. He could have had it much earlier too, had he only considered that one joke.