[center][h1]Terrors in the Night[/h1][/center] [hr] “Have you heard?” “Have I heard what, Aeliana?” “Those humans over the hill that way, the men say they are fighting.” “The ones who wear white?” “Yeah.” “Why would they be doing that? Gran always said they were peaceful folk, liked to help those in need.” Aeliana shrugged, hoisting the basket onto her other shoulder as the two walked along the sandy beach. “Many are prone to war, Cassia. Down at the temple, out near the bridge, over the hills. All directions really.” “We are too.” Cassia said, looking down at the ground as she carried her basket. “Well, yeah. But we are protected.” Aeliana said.. There was silence between the two for a time as the sun neared midday. Cassia looked over to her friend and noticed how forlorn her stormy eyes had become. Aeliana was one of the prettiest there ever had been within their tribe, well maybe except for some baby girls, but they were still growing up. To see her sad, felt like a crime. “Hey, we’ll be okay.” Cassia piped up. “Like you said, we are protected. Who would dare attack us?” Aeliana turned her face to her, long black hair blowing in the breeze. She gave a small nod. “I worry, Cassia. Humans are so… Aggressive. Cattia and her little companions give testament to that.” Cassia frowned. “I know, but he prefers humans as his playthings. Let them be aggressive for all we should care, let them think that they have to be possessive. Better for our tribe.” Aeliana straightened her back and eyed Cassia. “He likes us too.” Cassia nodded with a solemn regard and silence reigned as they neared the village. Up the rock and sandy path they went. The village itself was on a rocky outcropping that overlooked the warm waters of the sea. It was growing larger by the year and newer buildings were being constructed towards the interior, where the golden grasses touched the sands. As the two women neared the crude gates, they titled their heads at the sight of Livia and Sabina standing guard. Usually that was regarded as a male job, but the women of the Litus tribe were no pushovers. “Cassia, Aeliana! Where have you two been?” “Collecting clams and seaweed. What’s wrong Sabina?” Aeliana asked, letting her basket down to touch the stone. Cassia followed suit as Sabina spoke, “Oh my, you have been gone all day?” They nodded. “All the men have gathered for a moot.” Sabina said. “What? Why? Moots only happen when the white moon is full, why now?” “Trespassers were caught early in the morning, fighting amongst themselves on our borders. Those that survived were brought back to be questioned. Not long ago, The Great Daemon demanded it. There are…” Sabina looked off into the distance before looking back at the two. “There is talk of war.” Aeliana and Cassia glanced at each other. “Those the Venator’s captured, who were they?” “Who do you think?” Sabina asked with sarcasm in her voice. “Humans, of course.” Livia chimed in. [hr] The Moot place was a large sea cave on the other side of the village. The ancients had first used it for shelter before more careful, crafted ways became the norm. Now, the Moot had never been abandoned but expanded upon, hewn from the stone into something grander. Chairs had been etched into the walls, rows upon rows, lined with furs for comfort and now most were all occupied. The men of the Litus tribe were of stern stuff and of quick wit, but the normal faces of mirth and laughter had been replaced by grim expressions as most had their eyes upon the humans down in the sands before them. Broken and bloodied, tied and gagged, there remained five of them. They shook with such fear, like whipped dogs knowing not if they had done wrong, only that they had been struck. But none had struck them except their own. What gave them such desperate looks, was what the men of the Litus tribe had learned to avert their gazes from. There, sat upon the largest chair, at the front of the Moot, sat the Daemon. Wings splayed apart, body sitting back with a fist upon his cheek, looking impassive as always. His ashen skin and white hair were trademarks of his scarred face. The armor of the damned was his clothing and his weapon, a mace of pain. The Moot was quiet, for the Litus tribe had learned quickly- speak when spoken too and their world would be right. "Dessus," He spoke at last, the name of his attendant. The man rose from his seat at once. "Tell me again why these… Cowering wretches exist before me." Dessus rubbed one of his horns and cleared his throat. "They were found in our borders fighting, the Venators captured these ones alive for further questioning. From what they've said so far, we've gathered they are of two factions, fighting amongst each other over beliefs. A sad affair by any means, your magnificence." The Daemon let out a low rumble from his throat. "They are far from home, are they not? Why come here to my lands?" "A good question. Shall we find out?" Dessus said, moving over to the humans. He picked a man with ruddy orange hair and took the gag out. He licked his chapped lips. "Why did you come here, human? What did you seek to gain?" Dessus questioned. “W-We came ta gather allies for the war. The Sigeran filth found us along ta way. W-We meant no offense, I swear it. I swear upon ta gods!” he stammered. “Intriguing. You are one of these... Druids then? The white cloaks? Helpers of the land?” Dessus asked, hands folded behind his back. The man shook his head. “I was an apprentice under Kaer Lehon. They killed her in ta ambush.” “A tragedy, to be sure.” Dessus put the gag back into the man’s mouth. He began to protest but one look from the Daemon was enough to silence the attempt. Dessus then walked over to another man, with black hair and a clammy disposition. He undid the gag and the man stretched his jaw. “Speak then.” He spat in the direction of the first man. Then spoke in a deep voice, “I’ve nothing to say but this; The Druids and their ilk speak no truths, see only evil they want to see and care naught for anyone but their own piety. They’ll do anything to keep their power. Anything.” The red haired man and another glared at the man. Dessus stepped before him. “We were under the impression the druids existed as one, what do you and your people call themselves then?” “Sigerans.” He said with calmness. “Sigerans… Druids…” Dessus began turning to the Daemon. “You see your magnificence, they are fractured, fighting over religion and control.” He shoved the gag back in the man’s mouth and continued, “It is an alarming situation indeed. To have war on our doorsteps, brought about by these druids, these humans! What’s to say they begin to run out of resources, food, water- They will be forced to search far and wide and take what they want in the name of their gods and survival. Think of our women, defiled by these filthy creatures! It cannot be so!” At this, the moot erupted into loud whispers and shouts of anger and praise. The humans began to squirm, shouting behind their gags in frustration. Several guards came over to subdue them once again as the men of the Litus Tribe continued in their talks. It was then that the great Daemon stirred and at once the room quieted as he stood. His face became an expression of malice and he gripped his mace in hand as he descended the steps to the sandy floor. “There will be no aid here, no salvation for the weary and lost, for humans and their ilk.” He growled, coming to a stop before the red haired man. He could not stop shaking, eyes poised on the mace. “Is this not what you were meant to be? Upon your knees, groveling like wretches and cowards. Weak and slaves.” He rose his mace and with one quick strike, caved the man's head in with a sound akin to fruit being thrown at the ground. Someone wretched and began to choke. The Daemon looked around the Moot and raises his hands. “They came here seeking salvation, to use you for their own ends. Will we let them take what they want? No! We are Litus! Call the chiefs together, gather our supplies and prepare for war! They came seeking aid but they have only sealed their doom! We will conquer them all, drive them out and keep their lands for ourselves! Never again shall we ever think of helping those weaker than us. Now, too war!” The room erupted into eager shouts and enthusiastic praise. They were no stranger to war, and thought it would take time, a war they would have. “Feed these ones to the sea.” The Daemon commanded, and it was so. [hider=Summary] Some Merelli women talk on a beach. Then Malri and co ask some druids about the war. (This is like a year or more from present time.) They come to the realization that strife is good and humans are weak. Time for war bro. [/hider] [hider=Prestige] Malri Starting = 15 +4 = 19 [/hider]