[centre][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/206ee0f8-5d3d-49f0-82e5-ac1e6468fc87.png[/img] [h1]Anshumat[/h1] [h3][color=gray]Be still, and know that I am Sovereign! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.[/color][/h3] [img]https://i.imgur.com/gG92wzy.png[/img][/centre] [hr] Dry brown needles prickled their feet. The green pines of the inland just made the three k'nights miss Delphine's cool sands more than ever. Everything was harsh, not quite dry, blistery. The wind made the Hiphaeleon the Beautiful itch. And he did not shut up about it. "I am near peeling my hide from my body at this rate," he complained. "Where did you say the next inland tribe lives?" The jangling adornments across the front of the selka k'night's admittedly youthful dancer's body were irritating his skin more than any stiff breeze, Humat the Spiritual suspected, but he did not say anything. "The tribe will be at exactly the place where you stop itching and start looking," Kyko the Smiling teased. "You complain too much, Hiphael! You'll enjoy the trip more if you take everything in." He closed his eyes and sniffed deeply. "Doesn't it smell just lovely!" Humat did not say anything because Kyko and Hiphaeleon were in perfect balance as far as morale was concerned. To push one way or another would make all three of them flip over like a canoe. Besides, the little whistles the shorter Kyko made out of his jutting front teeth had a way of disrupting whatever groans Hiphael could muster. Hiphaeleon threw up an arm from where he walked ahead of them. A couple of bracelets gifted from the young women of the River Mouth tribe clicked impatiently. "Yes, the trees! They smell wonderful and I…" He stopped and spun with a growl. "We really let our catch slip back there, Kyko! How can you always be smiling!? I was humiliated! Why are we out here when these bumpkins can't even imagine what is over the first hill outside their huts!" Kyko's seal head shrank into his neck as he smirked. "We'll do better next time, Hiphael. No need to shout." "Better next time!?" Hiphaeleon realised himself. He straightened, aloof and crossing his arms. "Well obviously just talking to them isn't working. What makes you think we'll do better next time, hm?" At a loss, Kyko's smile faded. He turned pleadingly to Humat, and Humat looked up from the divining bones he rolled in his wrinkling hands. He regarded both his companions. He dissolved their words in his mouth. "Hiphael is right," Humat said concedingly. "The last tribe we visited did not listen to us, and why should they?" He motioned to the pine trees and tall grass around them on the rocky earth. "They have known only [i]this[/i] for generations. They do not want to change their way of life." Kyko leaned in and pleaded with one hand. "But Humat, we don't serve ourselves by being pessimistic. There has to be some way to do this, even if we're the first people to shift the inlanders…" he shook his head. "...I guess ever." Humat smiled. "I was getting to that." He showed his palm to them both in turn. "Kyko, Hiphaeleon, you are both skilled like birds. You can adjust as you fly without thinking and navigate any obstacles without knowing them in advance." He poked Hiphael's itchy belly. "You improvise. But what we face more challenging. We need to be like orcas." "Orcas, Humat?" Hiphael said, lifting an eyebrow. "You're saying we need to kill and eat them?" Kyko snorted, amused. "Nah, nah," Humat shook his head through a chortle. "We need to coordinate. To plan. We are a pod of three orcas with a goal in mind. Some improvisation will be needed, and you will both be prepared should the need arise, but let us first think about how these tribes behave and try to work around that. They are only fellow selka after all." "Still not sure if I'm getting the metaphor." Hiphael angled his head. He was a little slow. Humat patiently took him by the arm. "Hiphaeleon. When the girls flock your way at the welcome feasts, why do they do so? What do you do that attracts them so?" Hiphael pressed a finger to his large lower lip and looked at the horizon as if contemplating such questions for the very first time. "Maybe we should just seduce them all?" Kyko laughed. "The theatre dancing," Hiphaeleon stated. "I always join in the theatre dancing. Everyone is enraptured by the stories. The women, and the men, and even some of the married women and men, that's when they all look at me in that way." "Hmm, well that is a starting point-" Humat started before Kyko clicked the fingers on both his webbed hands. "That's it! I know what we can do!" "Seduce them?" Hiphael guessed. "Better than that. Captivate them!" He pointed to them. "We've been boring! Telling the chiefs that there's an unseen danger coming like it’s a big bear or something." He spread his arms. "We need a great and exciting story. We need a performance!" [hr] Kyko the Smiling One raised his club to the noontime sun. [i]"Selka of the Sparrow Trees! Hear this! The words of adventure from the chosen k'nights of Kirron's bloody Red Horizon! For the words you hear are that which this man's eyes have witnessed! And this club's notches have marked!"[/i] The volume of Kyko's voice drew everyone's attention, though it was not his scant hide clothing and plain luggage that kept them there. It was the feathers, bark, and improvised masks scrounged together and worn by Humat and Hiphaeleon. The selka men, women, and children gathered from the huts of their lakeside village to watch the ruckus. Hiphael leaned over to Humat. "This is ridiculous. Real theatre has painted bodies, torches burning in the night, props, and...more than one and a half rehearsals." "Just do your dancing, Hiphael, and let Kyko deal with the particulars," Humat reassured before taking his first place. "And when in doubt, fly like a bird." [i]"Everyone gather! All shall hear as it is Kirron's will!"[/i] Kyko beckoned them all forward, circling his club in the air. Some of the tribesfolk murmured, but many sat on the ground to allow those behind them to see. [i]"Our journey to tell you now began on the coast to Delphina's domain. Upbeach we marched, notched with deeds good and helpful, all that ranged from humble to great spanned our experience and our specialities. But it was this adventure that lead us to legend. On the trail of missing tribes upriver! Now keep your ears unblocked and your eyes unblinking, for you may not believe what you hear until you see the truth in my eyes..."[/i] Humat and Hiphaeleon took on their first roles, as Gralph the First K'night and Kirron. They each puffed up to look large and recited the exchange Gralph had relayed to them long ago. "My servant Gralph! Long have you wandered these lands righting the suffering of selka in need," Humat said, casting his fingers across the land. "I have for you a task you must take with great importance." Albeit, the words chosen had more weight and seriousness than Gralph's off-handed tact, but it did not help improve the situation: The delivery was stilted and the costumes hardly ideal. "I, Gralph the Mighty, first K'night of your Bloody Red Horizon, will take any challenge as a gift and a duty!" Hiphaeleon thumped his chest. With his nudge of thespian effort, something new took the stage. It was an imperceptible phenomenon. Imperceptible to the selka present, or any other base onlooker who might have witnessed the performance, for it was a bright yellow mana under the bridges of their senses. It travelled through the message of the play, its words and images, and flickered. The audience gasped. Their imaginations wrought before them a broad and muscular selka giant with a club that could fell a tree. He conversed with a radiant red selka god with fists braceleted with boulders, talking from the top of a bleeding cloud. [colour=red][b]"Take your k'nights upbeach to the river mouth, Gralph!"[/b][/colour] The illusory red god was more than real. His sharp teeth gleamed like snow-capped mountain peaks. [colour=red][b]"There you shall find your new recruits and face the darkness in the west. Fear not, for your effort shall show all how to turn it back! But brace yourself for the greatest fight in your life!"[/b][/colour] The play moved on to meeting the horned tall creature Anshumat, who manifested in the minds of the participants as an impossibly tall thin white and black humanoid crustacean with an ivory beetle's skull for a head, but with such quickness on the land that defied reality. [i]"I swear to be Kirron's ideal!"[/i] The giant Anshumat cried with a spear to the sky. [i]"By my word, selka shall go beyond all they have known!"[/i] More fantastical scenes played out before the audience, taken by the mysterious force holding them in Kyko's poetic and exaggerated dream. [b]"Turn back to the village, k'nights!"[/b] The hulking Gralph stopped the army of k'nights behind him with a raised palm. It was more selka, let alone k'nights, that the audience had ever imagined. But the evil Ihokhurs were stronger. [b]"There are too many, and they must be destroyed on our own terms! Fall back, make a plan! I will hold them off with Kirron's blessing!"[/b] "Gralph! You'll be killed!" A wondrously powerful version of Rephaemle the Fair, Gralph's second in command, cried out with tears that tugged the hearts of all the Sparrow Trees tribe. Gralph grinned with cocky sureness. [b]"Then may my club break doing my greatest deed…"[/b] He turned and charged, club raised, as to his left slid in a colossal leopard seal and to his right swooped in the flaming maw of a gargantuan blind dragon. The entire scene was engulfed in fire and the shattering stone bodies of the evil monstrous Ihokhurs, and children in the audience pushed their crying faces into the arms of their mothers. The final scene drew together all the remaining characters in mourning, including the friendly Ihokhetlani Kreekh, all the k'nights, and Anshumat himself, towering over all like a sapling reaching over mourning grey grass. [i]"Gather all your men! Gather all your selka might! You are Kirron's blood and none can stand agaisnt us united!"[/i] He turned to the k'nights, addressing each one with a praise. [i]"With determination. With loyalty. With innovation. With courage. With skill. With might. With wisdom, resilience, endurance, speed, and well placed strikes. These stones will be broken and our lives saved."[/i] The crustacean-bodied Anshumat pointed a five-fingered pincer at the audience. [i]"With you. With you! And you! Every one of you! We can avenge our hero Gralph and show the true strength of selka on the land and in the sea! Our love for life is the loving grip between Delphina and Kirron entwined! Come to the river mouth and prove why no stone can tear them apart!"[/i] The reception was positive, the three of them thought. Unaware of the power at play blessing them to inspire the masses, they shook off the crowd of determined cheers and smiles as the reaction of simple folk who had never seen any theatre before in their lives. They moved on to the next tribe as quickly as they could after some brief hospitality from the chief, who was packing things away as the three of them supped. "You know, Hiphael," Kyko said. "Yeah, Kyko?" "You almost made me tell you to tone it down back there." "...Really? You?" Hiphael tore off a layer of onion with his teeth and raised an eyebrow. Kyko looked to Hiphaeleon with a look of utmost seriousness. "If I ever do tell you that, just go bigger and better, okay." Hiphaeleon grinned an oniony grin. Humat suspected that the rest of the journey would have less in the way of morale issues. And indeed, it did not. [hr] The sounds of the wilderness had been replaced by those of primitive industry across the landscape, the lands hunted laid bare to sustain the growing population of the River Mouth in anticipation of the harvests of fields. The impacts of stone against wood thumped continuously throughout the day, their progress marked by the falling of timber. The landscape had been transformed nearly overnight. What was once unspoiled wilderness thick with tamed fields and open clearings was now cultivated to best serve their new owners. The small village of the river mouth tribe had swelled from merely a small number of huts to a sprawling proto-city, huts and hide tents scattered across the landscape. Great palisades of staked logs had begun to take form, creating deadly funnels for any enemy. Heaped upon their battlements were large, chiseled hammers. They were sized for two Selka to wield at once, and a single fall from the hammer could smash apart the hardest of rocks. They knew -- they had tested them thoroughly. Throngs of Selka trained with them daily. Behind those, the deadly stone-throwing mankonels also grew in number. Specially selected Selka trained daily with the mankonels, becoming more capable with both the operation and the aiming of the war machines in the day and the night. Anshumat watched them with a careful eye and corrected them into a much-needed perfection. As everything progressed, Anshumat found themselves looked to more and more for leadership. The tribal chiefs degraded in power as tribes intermingled for jobs. Cooperation sprung forth. The common goal was understood just well enough to work together. It was by no means a perfect unification, but it was nevertheless a remarkably efficient one. Anshumat, for their part, was spread thin, even though they worked both day and night. Endless clashes of custom or minor feuds between slowly dying tribal rivalries constantly flared up and needed quenching. Between the planning of the fields, the planting of crops, and the preparations of the vast arrays of defenses, little time was left for rest. Indeed, the K'nights of Red Horizon present in the process went to their beds every night well-worked for all that was delegated. It was to all of this, the unrecognisable scene more possible in dreams than reality, that three pivotal selka men walked so curiously that they hardly minded where they put their feet. Humat the Spiritual was the only one who had the best guess where he was going through the crowds and the complexities. Hiphaeleon and Kyko were too lost in amazement to do anything but wander their eyes all around them as they slowly walked. Wooden mallets plonked stakes into place. Stone scraped and chopped. Pairs of selka carried pieces of greater artifice on their shoulders. The returning k'nights were captivated. Humat spotted Anshumat easily from a distance with the demigod's height and features. He closed in to speak with a hushed voice. "Anshumat, are all these people…? How did...?" "I've never seen so many selka at once in my life," Kyko said with a finger picking nervously at his big overbite teeth. "I would guess there're more here than when the first selka walked the beaches." Anshumat looked down at the k'nights, motioning some other Selka they had been directing to move on, before saying, “It is very well possible. We have more Selka than even I imagined -- it is best described as the beginnings of a city. This is no longer just tribes, it’s a burgeoning nation.” "A…[i]nae-shun[/i]. Another new word. Hmph." Hiphaeleon frowned. Humat raised his brows. "New words are needed, for new sights are seen. I have not heard of a city or a nation before, but if they are what is before me now, they are all too real." Kyko smirked. "Something tells me our songs and theatre didn't bring every one of these people here. What else has been going on since we were away, Anshumat?" The demigod swiveled their head, taking in the sights, before saying, “I never planned for the only tribes here to be the ones you contacted. Word spreads. Many will come fully of their own accord, to be integrated into what we are doing here.” At that, the reality of the situation made the group lose their words momentarily. They looked out to all the new families working hard and doing their part. Hiphaeleon brushed a finger up to his cheek and blinked his eyes to Anshumat. "They will be getting close by now, won't they?" “At most two days. We’ve been preparing for it, and I think we are ready. We will have to be, if we wish to protect what we have created here,” Anshumat responded, turning their gaze to the layers of palisades and ditches. "Hmm," Humat noticed, raising an eyebrow at the demigod's empty eyes. "Interesting choice of words. Especially given the new words you shared with us. Do you not intend for the tribes to disperse again once the threat has passed?" Anshumat then looked back to Humat, answering, “Disperse to where? The distinctions between tribes are breaking down, and the land around us will never be the same. For better or worse, this is not an endeavor easily reversed.” Humat did not have a moment to respond before another voice directed their attention. "About time you flounders decided to flop your way back upbeach!" Rephaemle the fair stomped up towards them with a broad grin on his face and a new feature on his body -- two long coils of endlessly useful hemp rope. He approached flanked by Anboor and a few other sturdy selka labourers. He shared a hearty laugh and hug with each of Humat, Hiphael, and Kyko. The reunion was complete with fists clapped against backs and words of welcome. "You fellas really outdid yourselves here. None other than your charms could move people so. Well done, and welcome back." "Welcome," the broad Anboor added with a wave. "We were just coming by to report to Anshumat here. We, uh, we got the southern edge dug out and staked, Anshu. The visibility is still a little sketchy, but I got people clearing out the taller grasses out that way." Anshumat glanced at Humat, before looking back to Anboor, saying, “Great. I’ll head over to take a look. We can figure out the best places to focus on with the mankonels.” Kyko breathed out a laugh. They really were doing this, he realised. [hr] It was one night a day later. Two sprinting selka leapt over fallen logs, jutting roots, and sleeping stones. Their patrol had been four, but two were spotted. They had no imagined idea that could have compared to what they saw. With hearts racing and their breath loud on their lips, they ran for dear life through the night and broke through into a clearing. Beyond were the yellow lights of the rivermouth stronghold. They almost tripped up over their own feet speeding and wheezing for safety. A watchman was quick to notice the frantic movement. He had been leaning on his barricade, but straightened and lowered his brow at the two figures closing in. The two survivors were so panicked that the obscured whites of their eyes lit up in the torchlight. They could hardly speak but for dire barks between breaths. "Hh!...hhit!…It!..." The watchman's eye went to the night sky. Another dark shape flew towards them, getting much larger and braver than the bird of prey he thought it was. He gasped. "...It's them!!" The dark shape crushed one of the runners with a deep wooden sound -- a tree trunk flung from beyond the tree line. The watchman turned around and shouted. [i]"ALAAAAAAAARM!"[/i] The shout was echoed by others awake in the night, creating a cacophonous wave of sudden activity. Warriors grabbed their weapons. Engineers went to their stations. This was what they were ready for, as far as they could possibly know. The watchman himself went immediately for the torch near the barricade and slid to the bonfire. One of many lit up in less than a minute to show them their foes and to alert those out of earshot. Anshumat entered the middle of the fray within moments, shouting out commands to bring order from the chaos of the alarm, “Two Selka to a hammer! Man the mankonels you trained on! Three Selka to each spike, keep them in the ditch! The mankonels will deal the killing blow!” The fresh legs of many awoken selka padded along the dirt in fits and shouts of their superiors. Those at the barricade first were young men with the faster legs of the population and a torch in each hand. Their long legs hurdled them over the barricades in a graceful current of flickering fire. Their objectives were the fire pits just beyond, which they took their torches to with their eyes forward. They saw the trees and branches struck aside like sticks. They saw the black, jagged shapes of monsters with single red eyes each. And as the fires grew, the saw the monsters lit up as hulking giants of viciously spiked dark grey stone. The k'nights were up and down the line in pairs, commanding where Anshumat could not and supporting where they could. The nearest to Anshumat, Antoph the strong, the tall and powerful k'night who could pick up the demigod with one arm if he put his mind to it, looked upon their adversary and had one response. [i]"Theeeeeeere!..."[/i] his warsong began. He struck his chest with both fists in an intimidating thump. [i]"There marches them, slayers of our friends! Theeeeeeeere!..."[/i] Anshumat could see the familiar red mana oozing from his limbs and his stare, unknowingly suring up the hearts of all around him. [i]"There marches them, heartless men of stone!"[/i] [i]"Theeeeeere!..."[/i] The next nearest k'night, Takos the clever, with his mankonel teams winding up the first shots, joined in. The next line echoed low across the field. The k'nights' teeth thrashed and their throats bellowed out their taunting song. [i]"We feast upon our fear of you! We feast upon our fear of you! Theeeeeeere!"[/i] When the k'nights thudded their chests, every selka felt it in their lungs. In spite of the magical courage and strength running across the selka like a red cloud, the heartless stone giants did not slow their advance. The k'nights barely got their next line out before the first stake team hefted their log with great effort to hold back the first Ihokhurs by the arms and the chest. On a tower near a mankonel, a Selka yelled out, “It’s in the first ditch!”, the Selka on the war engine below him beginning to pull back the rope. Their mankonel groaned as it was brought to tension. The Ihokhur, who had fallen and gotten caught in the ditch, made clumsy grabs at the spiked log holding them in. The three Selka hefting it pulled it back every time, before shoving it forwards once more. They huffed with effort as the creature bellowed in rage. Then, from the backline, a violent creak of shifting timber. [i]"Our hearts will beat you back and you have none! None!"[/i] The Ihokhur managed to grab hold of the spike. It took it in both hands, beginning to lift it up, before, suddenly... CRACK. The beast went limp as the boulder smashed its head in, a cheer going up along the line of Selka. [i]"Our hearts will beat you back and you have none! None!"[/i] The sharp cracks of more mankonel stones impacting the Ihokhurs' bodies rang out over the jeers. Not all found their mark on a lethal spot. Many stones thudded uselessly across the ground. The hammer teams ran up to keep the many still-living Ihokhurs down. Their operation was to plant the haft of their great maul upon the ground and lift as a team, with the hind selka pushing up with a forked rod until they overcame the centre of gravity. The hammers came down all on their own, beating rising Ihokhurs back to the ground or outright shattering parts of their bodies. [i]"Where darkness comes we light it with our blood! Blood!"[/i] Another volley of stones was being prepared. The Ihokhurs took the time to rise. [i]"Where darkness comes we light it with our blood! Blood!"[/i] The mighty stone giants' second rank came forward as their remaining front rank knocked aside stakes and hammers. Their cold spiked fists flew and splintered wood and tools. Bones cracked under the grey skin of the selka trying to avoid them. The dark colour of blood flying in the nighttime joined screams of pain as the lumbering creatures had their turn. Anshumat yelled out into the dark, mirrored by messengers yelling up and down the line elsewhere, “Fall back to the second ditch! Abandon the first ditch’s tools! Survivors, help the second ditch teams!” Not even the courage of the warsong stopped a few from the first ditch to run early, though where Anshumat signalled them all to fall back, it also rallied them for their next hold. [i]"Tremble 'till you fall apart, stone men of the west! Fall apart or break upon the fists of Kirron's bless'd!"[/i] The second line were more assertive in jabbing back the advancing Ihokhurs, just as the Ihokhurs swung their arms this time to bat aside those without the proper timing. Another flurry springing mankonels aligned with the k'nights holding their wrists and putting their fists to the ground with a resounding word arching up and down with the stones. [i]"Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall!!![/i] The red mana thrummed. And through it, the zeroed-in mankonels cut a swathe through the Ihokhurs. Enraged, the standing Ihokhurs flew their arms into the dirt, kicking up a spray that blinded the second line for crucial moments before they trampled past the hammers and stakes. Their fury was nigh unstoppable, heavy and cruel as they were. “To the wall! Everyone, pick up extra hammers! Smash them as they approach! Mankonels, cease loosing!” Anshumat shouted out, picking up a hammer of their own as they climbed to the battlements. This time, as the dirt and dust settled, far fewer selka emerged to man the last line. They ran with the same panic and tears in their eyes as the patrol that spotted the attack. [i]"Where darkness comes we light it with our blood! Blood!"[/i] The song of the k'nights kept the remaining force unbroken. They gritted their teeth, held up their weapons ready, and braced for their final test. They heard the words and the entire wall cried out. [i][b]"Where darkness comes we light it with our blood!! Blood!!" [colour=#ffcccc]"Where darkness comes we light it with our blood!! Blood!!"[/colour][/b][/i] The Ihokhur's red eyes ran aloft on ground-shaking footfalls. They ran so hard upon the dirt that the palisade wall shuddered and threatened to collapse if it was any more intense. A few fleeing selka were beaten down and broken before the song's beat. The song itself grew punctuated with tools and weapons clacking rhythmically upon the battlements. [i][b][colour=#ffcccc]"Where darkness comes we light it with our blood!! Blood!!" "Where darkness comes we light it with our BLOOD!!"[/colour][/b][/i] The hammers and stakes slowed a few. The rest felt the wall get struck with holes and breaks from furious boulder-like fists. The next volley of mankonel fire came rushed and flustered, with few properly aimed as the selka faltered. The song lost its coherence as the k'nights joined the fight. Antoph the strong used one of the hammers on his own, even if its heft made it impossible for more than planting and dropping its head. The rest tried their hardest to replace the fallen and beat the creatures back. Selka warriors backed off and picked up handheld rocks that bounced off the Ihokhurs' stony hides ineffectually. As the swinging stone fists broke a big enough hole in the wall for the Ihokhurs to emerge, the k'nights were the only ones not ready to rout for the sea. Antoph responded with an effortful shout as he ran for the breach and planted his hammer upon the sand from a run up, using his arms and legs to all but throw the hammer head up in an arc and onto the red eye of the first monster through the gap in the wall. It fell in a heap and its red eye went out. The Ihokhur behind picked up a piece of its predecessor's foot as Antoph dragged the hammer back. It hurled the dark stone into Antoph. His sneering face fell away, and he was struck to the ground in a bloody heap. The blood made some selka scream in terror. There could not have been more than a few Ihokhurs left, but Antoph's fate was all that it took for the red mana to lift and the nearby warriors to lose their courage. This was the end. The song was forgotten. In that moment, nothing was left but to try and run for life. Then, a blinding light lit the fields. A blast of unnatural white. Selka all around stopped, and with arms over their eyes, looked towards its source. A flaming halo of white fire formed against the brow of Anshumat, roaring incomprehensibly as they strode towards the remaining Ihokhur. With every step, the earth below trembled, and with every moment they roared, every creature present was shaken to their bones. Without even raising a hand, Anshumat projected outwards, great shackles of flame pulling the surviving rocky beasts into unnatural positions, their joints crumbling under the pressure exerted. The shackles melted what rock they touched, digging ever deeper to keep their grip. When they then spoke, it was in a great booming voice that seemed to project from everywhere at once. It continued even as their mouth closed, “You think yourself a master of violence? That you may take what you wish, that you have sublimed the act of obliterating those who stand before you?” Two of the Ihokhur melted, screaming in terrible pain as heat enveloped their bodies. The other eight were forced to watch the grisly fate. Anshumat continued, the voice rumbling as though a portent from the earth itself, “You kill with your bare hands. The battered Selka strewn about you did so with weapons. But if you will not accept their abilities, then you [i]will[/i] accept mine. I do not need to touch you, I need no weapons. I need not flex a single muscle to kill a hundred of you. My indifference could kill thousands of you just as easily as my rage.” Another two white hot Ihokhurs melted, screaming as well, “See how easily I turn you to ghosts. Is it not wonderful? You made a living striking down those below you, firm in the belief that you and you alone were worthy of rule.” The shackles receded, as Anshumat stood in front of them, “I invite you to prove it. Strike me down! Show me your mastery of death!” Those Selka that had not run and hidden themselves were curled up on the ground, cowering. Those that were not cowering stood paralysed in awe. The Ihokhurs, even, were hesitant to shift from where they were bound moments before. Only now did one speak out in a soundless, depraved voice. [colour=#ff00a6][i]"We were made by that which would kill the divines. We will rip you apart or be replaced by a creation that shall. Such is [/i]our[i] god!"[/i][/colour] The Ihokhur speaking broke into a run for Anshumat, poised to thrust the spiked end of its arm through their heart. The rest of the standing Ihokhurs followed at speed. Anshumat did not move as they charged. They stood silently, watching the Ihokhur lumber forward -- and one by one, as they got close, their bodies began to give up on them, rock crumbling into loose salt until they were gone. Anshumat stopped once there was only one left, holding it back with an invisible force. The booming voice rumbled out again, “I have defied gods long before yours. I have trifled with powers far beyond yours, suffered great tragedies and celebrated triumphs far beyond what any could imagine. You believe yourself capable of ripping me apart?” The Ihokhur could only look at its arms as they slowly began to slake away into numb salt. “You have failed to understand. You believe yourself a master of violence? As you stand there, defeated utterly by an opponent who is so beyond you that they need not even move?” Without moving, Anshumat then forced the disintegrating Ihokhur into prostration, the booming voice growing in intensity, “You will return to the dark pits that spawned you, and you will warn them. Here lives a sovereign of the act of death, one who could cause your very extinction without even knowing. You will know well to never return, living in fear of what you have created.” Once the Ihokhur’s arms had been totally slaked away, Anshumat once again released the beast. It fell heavily upon the dirt on its front, unable to lift itself but by curling its body inwards and raising itself up to its knees. Its head stayed bent forward and showing only as much emotion as its single static red eye could share. It turned its head to look at the ruined wall, the shocked selka, the shining demigod, and then shuffled to its feet, stepping back as if Anshumat radiated an unbearable heat. [i][colour=#ff00a6]"If you think me spared, defiant god,"[/colour][/i] it growled fearfully. [i][colour=#ff00a6]"If you think any of these filthy creatures are spared, you will meet your better in time!"[/colour][/i] It stumbled into a run out of the breach in the wall and thundered away into the night. As it stumbled away, Anshumat simply rumbled, “I am no god. I am sovereign, and those under me shall see my protection.” The night grew voiceless when the last Ihokhur made its retreat. The selka could hear nothing but the sound of their own breaths and the soft crackling of the fires around them. One by one, they emerged from their hiding spots or stood up from the ground. Their faces emerged from where they were tucked into their arms, at first cautiously, and then with mouths agape and eyes shining. Murmurs and whispers carried out. They had won, apparently, but through what power they had no comprehension. Nothing except Anshumat's form and booming voice. Humat the Spiritual was the only one who dared creep closer. He had his head held low and his eyes looking up at Anshumat with a measure of fear, dragging his bone club along the sand behind him like an afterthought. "Ah-...Eyebiter?" He all but stammered out. "What did you do? How..." He continued in a breath. "What you wield is the power of Kirron's kin." Anshumat slowly turned their head to look at Humat, quietly responding, “I am no kin of Kirron. I am no god. I do nothing but take my own destiny and forge it to my liking.” Humat's eyes downcast. "Sovereign," he repeated. "New words for new sights are seen." He turned his head up again, worrying the corners of his eyes. "And what will you do with us, sovereign?" he asked as one knowing he had no comparable power. Anshumat shook their head, “I do not intend to force my command upon you as I did the beasts. It is not fear nor blind obedience that produces greatness. I will do nothing with you, for you are not mine to command except by your own will.” Some other selka had gathered. Anboor and his entourage wandered in to hear the conversation. Other fighters or engineers, all those not bringing in the wounded, closed into the crowd gathering around Anshumat. Anboor breathed all the way in, drawing attention with his voice. "I want to be with the nation!" he declared. "[i]I[/i] want to be with the nation!" Another selka said. "And I!" "And so do I." "And me!" "We will not!" The crowd went quiet at the voice of Rephaemle the Fair behind them. The de facto leader of the K'nights of Red Horizon knelt beside the ruined body of Antoph the Strong, holding Antoph's blood-stained club in his hands, weeping without a sob. He peered up at Anshumat with a tight frown. The rest of the k'nights stood behind him, though none showed any hostile intent. Even Humat the spiritual let out a breath from his nose and strode over beside Rephaemle with a measure of understanding. Reph stood up. "Anshumat! Us K'nights are Kirron's folk. We can be friends, but we cannot trade dependence. I am sure you see." Anshumat strode over, kneeling next to Antoph, before responding, once more quietly, “I would never intend to fatten your reflexes and your hardships with decadence -- it is the crucible of experience that creates heroes. But, heroes cannot be made if powers too great to fight are left unchecked.” They shook their head sadly, “I would not steal from the K’nights struggles. You and the Selka deserve a fair chance, that is all.” "It is not our struggles I'm afraid you'll steal," Reph replied. "We have an island home to see to. We have people to help. But we are not conquerors like some chiefs wish we would be for them. That is why we cannot be yours to command." He looked over his shoulder. "K'nights. You fought well. Take a notch." Each k'night took out a knife and sawed a small wedge out of the bone of their clubs. "And you, Eyebiter," Reph continued. "The notches you carve here will eventually break your club. That is what all k'nights strive for in the end. Thank you for saving us all." “It is my failure that I had to resort to such measures at all,” was all Anshumat said, as they reached down and closed Antoph’s eyes. Humat the Spiritual nodded sagely beside them. "True strength is to move the tides with only small nudges." One by one, the new nation of selka behind Anshumat shuffled a little closer, quietly betraying the welling grief on their faces at the loss of Antoph the Strong. The excitement of the battle would be in their minds for the rest of their lives. [i]"Tides come in~"[/i] Anboor lead with a more traditional song. [i]"Waves go out~"[/i] A reluctant chorus joined from the selka. [i]"By blood, we're warm~ And the pups do shout~"[/i] The mournful song brought Reph to open sobbing. [i]"But seals we were~ And life'll contend~ Like the sea~ We're cold in the end~"[/i] [hr] The first night was the hardest, picking up the pieces and mourning the lost. Tribes had lost chieftains, shamans, warriors, and hunters in equal numbers. Each one had to be given a funeral. Such was the efforts of the first few days, the erection of monuments to those lost. But once the fallen had been laid to rest, all selka had to look to the future. There were deep wounds in the land and the populace, both of which had to be made right. Ditches were covered, palisades ripped up. The primitive mobile huts and tents of the Selka were first demolished, then replaced. In their place, a haphazard of stone structures, carefully carved and transported from a quarry upriver. Roads were laid, and districts planned. Soon, the collection of tribes and huts were no more, replaced by a sizeable city-state which sprawled across the river mouth. Ferry stations transported goods up and down the river, while lone Selka simply swam the gap. Then, the memories of the first night still sore in the minds of all, the attention lay upon the walls; all effort was bent towards the quarry, and great stone blocks built not for creating habitation but defense were transported. In the place of the log palisade, there now formed a great, tower-lined stone wall. It encircled the city, cutting the districts into defensible parts, and circling about Anshumat’s dwelling, as the final line of defense. And then the harvest had come in. It was meagre, many of the beans dying, malnourished in poor soil. But, there was still a harvest, and many still got food. The land about the city was hunted bare, and offered no help. The Selka hungered, but they did not starve. Toraph did not like it. Anshumat could shield him from blame, but he saw the privation for himself, even without the help of his enchanted hood showing the pits in everyone's stomachs. He made it clear every time Anshumat patrolled the city to see progress. "There's got to be a way to make things better," Toraph said while the pair of them walked with other supervisory selka officials trailing behind them. The town had a few coughs of sickness, but at least the new stone structures hid the full breadth of it all. "This nation thing...I don't know how people haven’t all wandered off to places with more food by now." He sighed guiltily. Anshumat continued to walk, looking straight ahead as they said, “The first months, even years of any city such as this one will be hard. This was not naturally grown, and it will take time for nature and even the selka themselves to settle into it.” They shook their head. “We will survive, whether times are easy or hard. Without your harvest, the selka here would have all starved by now. You have helped, Toraph, and while you have not created luxury, you have created life.” "It wasn't good enough," Toraph said with his eyes to the ground. "I don't do words to solve things, Anshumat. I do [i]things[/i]. My brothers couldn't hold enough fish in time for sundown? I made a small raft." He looked up with more enthusiasm. "Listen, you know how the women have been weaving string into these sheets for holding pups and keeping warm? I got this idea when a gust of wind came and blew one down the beach. I've got this idea for boat with a big sheet on a stick to spread it out, and I think it'll help make boats faster than with pushing or paddling. It's the wind, it's faster than any of us, you know?" He put his hands up before him. "I was thinking I could use that to go travelling downbeach and learn if anyone else has tried planting seeds or…" Toraph trailed off as Anshumat stopped in place, looking down the street to their right. The entire procession slowed to a stop behind them. “We don’t have enough stew! Find someone else!” A Selka cried, leaning out from the entry to a home. A thin, sickly looking Selka stood on the steps, cowering as the other yelled. Then, they withdrew inside, slamming the door behind them, leaving the hungry one out in the baking sun. Toraph looked on sympathetically. "That would not happen two years ago," he said. "Leaving out someone in need. That's how I know my ideas were not enough, Anshu." Anshumat looked to the sickly Selka, then to Toraph, saying, “You gave them life. It is up to them to use it well. I am going over there, whether you wish to stay or to follow me, I will not decide for you.” Then, immediately, Anshumat strode over to the house and the sickly Selka, a look of awe on his face as his Sovereign took notice of him. Toraph tilted his head curiously from a short distance. He observed with crossed arms. Anshumat knelt down to the sickly Selka, asking, “By what name do you go by?” He responded, quietly, and sorely, “I’m Treen, Anshumat.” Anshumat nodded slowly, standing up as they said, “Stay close to me, Treen. I would not see you starve,” as they walked over to the door of the home that had rejected Treen. Anshumat rapped their knuckles on the door twice, and a voice from inside called out, “I thought I already told you to go away!” Another two raps to the door, and it was hastily opened. An angry Selka looked out, their brief glare immediately melting away as they realized who had been knocking, saying quickly, “Anshumat, I meant no offense!” Anshumat did not make pleasantries, immediately saying, “I have starved, and you have refused me. I was a stranger, and you sent me away. When I was sick, you tossed me to unforgiving streets. Why?” A look of bewilderment came across the Selka’s face, as they responded hastily, “I’ve never done that, and I never would. What are you talking about? When have I done that?” Anshumat sidestepped, revealing the sickly Selka, saying in an eerily calm manner, “What you have done to the least of us, you have done to me. What you have refused him, you have refused me. All of us will starve with cold hearts, or survive through the generosity of our neighbors. All of us.” The Selka begged, “But I don’t have enough for myself, let alone him! I --” “You sit in a home, built for you by the hands of men like Treen, eating stew made possible only by the work of those of Toraph’s make. You do not go hungry, and you are not laid low by sickness. You will survive -- it is not a matter of your life. If you would refuse Treen, who has done as much as myself or any other selka here, you would refuse all,” The demigod said in an even voice. Anshumat continued, “And what, pray tell, will you do when it is you who is hungry, whose home has sunk into the ground and left you on the streets? When sickness grips you? Will you lay down and die, secure in the knowledge you did not offer nor take help from your neighbors?” The selka stayed silent for a moment, before shaking their head, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Anshumat followed up, “What is your name?” She responded, “It is Sophaia, Anshumat.” “Remember what I said carefully, Sophaia. Tell those you see of it. I will not see selka who only months ago struggled with you and everyone else in this city for their very lives, starve in the streets they went on to create,” Anshumat finished, stepping out of the way to let Treen enter the home. Anshumat closed the door as Treen entered, taking one last glance before walking back to the procession. Toraph traced Anshumat's shell-like head up beside him. "How much does she have, really?" “Enough,” Anshumat responded, “She will not go hungry, and now, neither will Treen. They will not live in luxury, but now neither of them will starve.” Unfolding his arms, Toraph smiled. "Sounds like something Kirwon would say," he remarked. Anshumat said evenly, “When the land is poor, it is only through the generosity of those around us that we will survive. We all would do well to learn that.” They walked on. The selka in the procession felt a little better, even with as small a gesture as it was. [hider=Well, this took a while] So, this is really three posts in one. The first post is Humat, Kyko, and Hiphaeleon going about their mission to convince the selka tribes to rally at the river mouth to drive back the ihokhurs. They don't have much luck initially, but then they decide to put on a theatre performance with Kyko narrating. This triggers the blessing Anshumat left them with and made the performance hyper-real and incredibly effective, even though they don't realise it. Then we skip to the next post, when Humat, Kyko, and Hiphaeleon return to the river mouth to find it landscaped with entrenchments and engines of war. They catch up with the other k'nights and Anshumat and get an update. The Ihokhurs attack in the nighttime. The selka raise the alarm and deal plenty of casualties to the advancing stone creatures with a combination of magical warsongs, mangonel stones, and huge mancatcher/oversized hammer teams. Unfortunately, the selka are all driven back to the final layer of defence and the palisade wall is breached. Antoph the Strong, the hulkamania k'night, hulks out with a hammer to himself and kills the first Ihok through the breach before he's splattered by a thrown boulder. The selka break and rout. Then Anshumat goes super saiyan and lays the Ihoks out with great vengeance and furious anger. They leave only one Ihok alive and dissolve the rest into salt. The last remaining Ihok runs off with his arms missing to tell the tale to wherever he'll retreat to. After that, Anshumat explains he'll be a sovereign, but not a god, so he'll not force anyone to do anything. People generally respond with wanting to join his nation, except for the K'nights of the Red Horizon. The k'nights have to maintain Krasis and keep being independent of regional politics. Anshumat understands and lets them go. The third post skips to a long time after the battle, when the River Mouth has truly become a city. It's got walls and ferries and everything. The post follows Toraph and Anshumat talking about how they're struggling to feed everyone, though Anshumat is optimistic. Toraph goes partway through his idea for a prototype sail boat to go south to get more farming knowledge before he's interrupted by something Anshumat spots. There's a beggar turned away from a house, looking for food. Anshumat goes all Jesus on the selka in the house and convinces her to help the beggar. Sharing is caring and all that. [/hider] [hider=Might/Prestige Summary] [i]Before:[/i] Anshumat, Sovereign - 7 Might, 13 Freepoints -2 Might: Put on a show of power to fuck up ihop rocks -4 Freepoints: Teach Architecture, Division of Labor, River Transport, create the city of Antoph’s Rest. [i]After:[/i] Anshumat, Sovereign - 5 Might, 9 Freepoints [i]Before:[/i] K'nights of Red Horizon, "The War Singers", "Who Have Faced Death and Lived" - 11 Prestige - 12 Members +1: Minor role +1: Major role +1: Collaboration +6: Quest Completion [i]After:[/i] K'nights of Red Horizon, "The War Singers", "Who Have Faced Death and Lived" - 20 Prestige - 10 Members [/hider]