[center][h1][color=slategray][b][u]The Valla[/u][/b][/color][/h1][/center]

Bells clanged away, seventy seven times in a row, to mark the end of the Month of Mourning. An entire month of ash had been observed for the departure of the demigod Roog from the lands of the Valla, the loss felt deeply all across the Valla homeland. As the Month of Ash and Mourning was finally declared over by the sonorous wail of bells at Yn-’e-Kynweir-Alwyld, the Valla world came to a standstill.

Periods of observation and reflection on the teachings of Roog were now filled with empty gaps of time, voids where once learning had resided. The blow to the Valla on a spiritual level was considerable, stabbing deep into the hearts of the Cenekyn monks and the tribes of Valla that spread out across the mountains and valleys surrounding the monastery. Despite this, life had to continue; food had to be gathered, labors completed, and rites observed. Though the loss of one’s God was a considerable one indeed, time paid little heed to such spiritual sacrifices. 

As it were, the Valla world was in desperate need of change. A reliance on the presence of Roog had become essential to the workings of the Valla, particularly among the Cenekyn and residents of Kynweir-Alwyld. This need for guidance from a heavenly figure had to be dispensed with if society was to continue onwards. Emla knew this fact with ice cold certainty as she stood at the edge of Roog’s Rise beneath the Reodweir, staring out across the monastery’s tiled roofs and walkways. 

“I feel his loss,” came the voice of her soulmate, her other half named Aesc, “I am empty.”

Aesc had been one of many Valla who had dulled with the loss of their deity more than most. In Roog’s presence Aesc had been one of the most vivid members of the order, constantly alert and craving the endless knowledge Roog seemed to provide. He had devoured their martial training from the very earliest steps and had taken to Roog’s new teachings of effort and labor with a tenacity unmatched by the others of the Cenekyn. Yet, with Roog’s passing from their world, that light faded.

Emla bit back her tongue as she felt the biting flame of ire press at the back of her throat. She had loved Roog more than anyone and had been a close confidant of the Wolf God since they first journeyed north from the place of their creation. Nevertheless, Roog had stressed in his teachings the skills of self-actualization and independence; if he had intended to remain forever, surely he would not have needed to teach them the skills he had? To see so many of her brethren fall to the moroseness of depression was almost sickening to her sensibilities. Fiery disdain flashed in her chest and she turned, gaze flashing across down-trodden looks of numerous collected Cenekyn, the full gamut of all the Order returned to the monastery during the Month of Mourning.

“By Roog’s Black Blood, how he would balk as your sadness,” spit Emla, addressing the crowd. Their faces seemed to contort in shame at her spiteful remark, their newly hued skin seemingly matching their sorrowful indifference effortlessly, “We are Chosen yet you mope at the loss of our creator like lost children. Did Roog so whine at the loss of His creator? The Month of Mourning is gone and passed, now is the time to move on.”

Emla turned on her heels to look back out across the monastery and beyond, into the depths of the valleys below where numerous columns of smoke could be seen from hearths and campfires. How many Valla, she wondered, resided beneath the canopy of trees that spread out as a green blanket across the landscape. Many years had passed since their arrival and though as a Cenekyn time hardly ravaged her, it had churned ever onwards nevertheless. Families had been born, an entire new generation, the first true-born of the Valla race now growing into adulthood and having their own children. She could not abide allowing the works of Roog to fall into ruin out of mourning for him.

“I will lead the Cenekyn.”

There was a momentary shift in the wind as the collect monks all looked to Emla with a mix of surprise and confusion; the idea that anyone could lead the Cenekyn other than Roog was outlandish to say the least. After the paralyzation caused by the shock of such a statement died down, dissenting voices began to speak their peace.

“Why you, if anyone at all? What grants you such authority?”

Tension in the air flared as more voices spoke up, either in support for or in opposition to Emla’s proclamation. Emla remained silent as they spoke, her gaze dancing across the viridian world before her as memories of her first laying eyes upon it came to mind. As the debate began to calm, one opposing voice rose to meet her with the support of all the others.

“We cannot do this.”

Emla’s eyes widened with surprise as she recognized the voice of her beloved ringing against her ears. His voice warbled with emotions and as she turned to regard him she saw a mask of one thousand faces splayed across his own. Tears welled around his eyes as bronze irises stared deeply into Emla’s own. The air was electric as they stood, staring at one another, and the crowd of monks remained silent before the storm. Emla, suddenly feeling a knot in her own stomach, took up a fighting stance.

“I make challenge, here and now; let Roog’s teachings decide. A Trial by Effort.”

The summons rocked the collective of Cenekyn, truly shocked to see such a demand be set forth. There was certainly no precedent for such an act and to see the challenge laid between two lovers struck hard and sank deep into the hearts of the observers. She was right, of course; her interpretation was not without merit. A Trial by Effort between two individuals could not be more in line with the teachings of Roog and His Man-Father Kalmar. Aesc, the single greatest practitioner of Roog’s martial arts, took up a stance of his own.

The two followed one another in the beginnings of their dance, marking the circle with their feet as the Cenekyn nearest to them moved from their intended battlefield. Each held low stances, close to the ground with a readiness to act. The tenseness was palpable as with each new pass they tightened the circle, closing the distance inch by inch as they neared positions where they could strike out at their opponent. Emla, impetuous as always, launched the first strikes. 

A forward kick with her front leg, driven forward by Emla’s back leg pushing off from the ground, struck into Aesc’s guard, catching him on the forearms before anchoring to the floor and allowing for a spinning kick toward’s Aesc’s unguarded side. Aesc rolled and put forward two hands, deflecting and redirecting Emla’s kick to the side before lashing out with an open palmed strike. Emla leaped forward, using the momentum of Aesc’s block to roll forward just outside of the range of his punch.

The duel continued as Aesc followed after Emla, the pair trading blows as their battle wandered across Roog’s rise. It was quite evident that Aesc, despite Emla’s own prodigious skill, was the superior fighter in the match. For every blow Emla gave, Aesc followed with a block and a counter attack, and Emla could only keep up as Aesc continued his assault. Where once there had been melancholy in his heart there now sat a deep seated fire, borne entirely on the back of the challenge Emla had made. As Aesc refused to break his advance Emla continued to dodge away, realizing her own mistake in entering the fight so readily. Awareness stung at the back of her mind, warning of her of her impending loss, while a small voice raged at such indignation. 

As Emla dodged away from another one of Aesc’s ferocious blows, a fallen branch of the Reodweir caught her attention. She had always been a master of weaponry, outperforming her lover during bouts with spears. With one roll she closed the distance to the bough, snatching it up during her roll so that she rose with it in hand. With one easy motion she snapped the young growth from the end, the leafy, soft end of the branch falling to the ground while Emla bared her newfound weapon with a determined grin. 

The clash continued with the fight now in Emla’s favor, her makeshift bo-staff striking from angles and with speeds Aesc couldn’t possibly match with hands and fists alone. Soon his full skills were pressed to the limit, every part of his body being turned to action to stave off Emla’s attacks and attempt to close the distance to get at her. One blow, then two, and finally a third went inside Aesc’s guard and began to strike closer and closer to parts of him that would loathe to be struck. One particular lash of the branch struck Aesc on the temple, sending stars into his eyes and rage into Aesc’s belly. With a tirade of fists, feet, knees and elbows Aesc put his lover on the defensive and one, decisive strike smashed the bough in two, shattering it, and striking Emla directly center chest.

Emla practically flew several feet, stumbling as she went, before falling on her back from the sheer force of the impact. Her weapon was shattered, its splinters now decorating the floor of Roog’s Rise, and her victory with it. Emla laid back on the stone tiles of the Rise, cursing herself for her failure, as Aesc loomed above imperiously. Then, all of a sudden, Emla heard laughter. Aesc was laughing. Not in the way that one does to taunt their foes, either, but with genuine mirth. Emla opened her eyes to see a hand reaching down to help her up.

“You have won, my dear, so rise.”

Emla stared at the hand with an eyebrow raised in spite, her ashen chest heaving with exertion and doubt. At long last she took the hand, being pulled to her feet by Aesc who stared into her eyes with that stupid, warm look she so enjoyed. Moments before she had been beating him with a branch, yet now he smiled blankly at her like nothing had happened. Emla growled out her confusion, seemingly matched by the confusion of the crowd.

“I have not won, idiot. You have bested me. We all saw it. The Trial of Effort goes to you.”

Aesc laughed again, heartily as if she had said a most raucous joke. Emla began to smart at the perceived insult, the grey features of her face tightening while her bronze eyes glared at her Lover-soon-to-not-be. He caressed her face only to have his hand swatted away, a smile beaming on his face even brighter for it.

“Explain!”

“Alright, my sun-and-stars, alright!” Aesc smiled and nodded, taking a moment to catch his breath from the laughter, “You won! We fought, I bested you, yet you won. Our fight was to determine whether or not Roog’s teachings would have us change or remain as we are; it is clear that change is the only way forward. My judgement was clouded by my sadness; Great-Wolf never once wished for us to be as we are, forever.”

Emla stared, annoyed, at Aesc but with his reasoning starting to make some sense to her. A Trial of Effort was not a duel to see who could defeat the other, for such a thing Roog would never abide. It was to put the two parties through struggle and to come out of the other side purified of thought. Though she didn’t like to admit that her defeat had won the day for her, she could at least take some pride in that small victory.

“Fine. I win. But what then?”

The Cenekyn fell amongst each other then in discussion, each monk seemingly having their own idea of what this meant for the future. At last voices were silenced by Aesc who, stepping away from Emla, had grabbed up the young portion of the branch that had been knocked away at the beginning of the fight. With little effort he snapped the branch in two and bent it into shape, forming two circlets before stepping back to his lover. He set the crown upon her head before placing his own on his.

“We both shall rule; one who looks forward, and one who looks back. Together we shall find a balance in all things. What say you, brothers and sisters?”

The murmur rose into voices of acceptance and agreement, the Rise suddenly alive with voices once more. It seemed this path fit well within Roog’s plan. Two rulers there would be of the Cenekyn, one who drives forward and the other who holds on to what was already learned. It would not be perfect, but it would do.

“What, then, shall we do?” came a voice from the crowd, one of the numerous Cenekyn speaking out for the many.

Aesc turned to Emla, smiling and giving her the floor. The woman clenched her teeth before turning over her shoulder to look out across the valleys and mountains of Roog’s domain. They would safeguard this place till his return for him, keeping to his teachings and protecting their people in his absence as he had always intended. That would, until the end of time, be the purpose of the Cenekyn.

“Great-Wolf, in his wisdom, told us to build our own homes. Then we shall do this. With the skills he imparted, I command that we shall erect more monasteries across our lands. Cenekyn will be sent to build these hallowed grounds by hand, as Roog did. From there we shall protect the people from whatever threats rise to greet them, and teach the skills Roog imparted onto us to our kind wherever they might reside. As with all life there must be an Epoch of Growth; so, let us go out and grow.”
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[hider=Summary]
The Month of Ash and Mourning has come to a close among the Valla, dedicated to Roog after his departure from their lands. A sense of moroseness has overcome the Valla as they are faced with the loss of their closest God swiftly following the death of another one of their creators.

Emla, one of Roog’s closest confidants among the Valla, takes personal affront to the behavior of her fellow Valla. In her eyes, this depression is actively in opposition to the teachings of Roog.

Emla, seeking to rectify the situation, posits that she should lead the Cenekyn going forward to keep to Roog’s teachings. Though some Cenekyn support this effort, others oppose her. Aesc, lover and companion to Emla, actively opposed Emla’s actions.

Emla challenges Aesc to the newly titled Trial of Effort, setting a precedent that dueling can be used to help determine the validity of disputes among Valla. The duel commences with both duelists using Roogada martial arts in combat. Though Aesc proves the better with his body, Emla swiftly arms herself.

Emla is defeated by Aesc in the duel, though is surprisingly awarded victory in the Trial by Aesc. Aesc explains that the fight pulled him out of the funk he was in after Roog’s departure, accepting the loss of the guiding hand Roog provided and agreeing to Emla’s intended path.

Aesc and Emla are both crowned as rulers of the Cenekyn and, by extension, the Valla. With her first decree Emla declares the Epoch of Growth, a period in which the Cenekyn Order will construct numerous monasteries across the North East of Kalgrun to serve as outposts and waystations for the defense and dissemination of knowledge to the Valla.
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