[centre][h2]The Tyrants of the Moon and Night[/h2]
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Owl hoots. 

Owl hoots in the eternal night.

Shadows too dark to see with any eyes not made for this land, casting themselves on mushroom trunks that grow for tens of metres into the air, forever hidden under caps that block out both the Sun and Moon. 

A distant squeal - the owl has caught its prey. A mouse, most likely - one that so eagerly fed on one of the smaller mushrooms on the mycoforest floor. Its corpse, when gulped back up by the hungry owl, will feed those very same mushrooms in time.

A slick and a thump - an unlucky cat slug just fell from a tall sun-cap and splattered against the tiny white floor of fungus grass below. A nearby enoki bush, as large as a small tree, parts to reveal a hungry giant hedgehog. Normal black and brown slugs are common meals for this apex predator of the island, but to find a fresh cat slug - now that is a feast. It waddles over to the gooey mass of flesh and gives it a whiff - it may be blind, but its sense of smell and touch are second only to few others. Then, with sharp front teeth, it expertly tears into the slimy slug meat. This male needs to grow big and strong to impress the females in its area - competition is tough amongst the giant hedgehogs of the Black Paradise. 

A wheeze and a [i]fwoo[/i]! The hedgehog peeks up to smell the air, snout glistening with slime in the incredibly dim light of the omnipresent bioluminescent lichen and moss. It stands incredibly still, listening intently. It may be an apex predator, but it is not alone in that role. It sniffs the air more closely and begins to back away. As it suspected - something stepped on a nearby colony of puffballs. It retreats back into its bushroom; it did not get to eat its fill, but at least it can save the energy consumed rather than spend it fighting a fight it may not win.

The groans and stretchings of the mushy floor of the mycoforest made sneaking up on anything a feat requiring years upon years of practice. While catching a cat slug may not be the hardest task for the top predator on Neverday Island, it will only resort to such a goopy meal in the utmost need. If given the chance, it will hunt for sweeter meats, chase it for hours if need be. However, in an environment wherein sound, smell and touch are your only tools, even snail-like prey can become a challenge. The lichen’s glow offers little light for the eyes to use, but using what little there is, the top predator spots an invisibly faint movement in the bushroom by what its now-goopy fingers says is the corpse of a cat slug. The predator approaches the bush, its quieted steps enough to alert its inhabitant. Faintly, the bushroom stirs and the predator steps back. Its prey has flexed its back, and the predator knows that, among the thousand small buds and sprouts of the bushroom, there are now a myriad of toothed barbs that will bury themselves deep under its skin in a heartbeat and take hours to remove. Should they snap while inside, the predator may die of an infection within the month - these hedgehogs crawl and dig under all sorts of dangerous fungi.

However, this predator is no fool. It is not on the top of the food chain for nothing. It steps back to evaluate the situation, the faint light of lichen washing over its face.

This is a night elf.

She readies her weapon, a flat-headed club of mycowood. The key to fighting a giant hedgehog is to break its back, incapacitating its ability to flex its back muscles. When that is done, one can roll it onto its belly and finish the job. Easier said than done, though - the night elf will have to use all her cunning to outsmart the hedgehog. 

Stepping to the right, she assesses her options. The hedgehog turns in a heartbeat, expertly retracting and flexing its spines to meet the threat without compromising the cover of the bushroom. She tries to outspeed it, dancing in circles around the bush while looking for an opportunity - however, as with most other places, it is simply too dark to aim a proper strike. She realises quickly that she will tire faster than the hedgehog and slows down. She waits, big, milky eyes staring at the bushroom; big, bat-like ears with hooked owl claws and animal bone in the lobes, listening intently for any sort of movement; broad, masterful nose probing the scentscape for anything she can use to her advantage.

There it is - the hedgehog has terrible luck today. Another male waddles into his territory, ignorant of, or perhaps just ignoring, the squatting night elf sitting by the bushroom of its rival. Long has it craved this land, so ripe and overflowing with juicy mollusks and nutritious macro-shrooms. Everyone can smell it - the intruder has unleashed a sour scent that rips at the nose-hairs: The intruder has signalled its call to duel. 

The defending party has no choice - if it does not respond, it will be seen as weak, and its competitor will begin marking its territory and begin calling for mates - ITS mates. The sour smell intensifies - the defender has answered. The intruder waddles menacingly over to the bushroom, a blind snout testing the enoki between which its opponent hides. Not even nelven noses are close to the smelling capabilities of these hedgehog snouts, and nelves thus do not know that the nasty stuff that gets stuck all over their spines and barbs, actually has a smell. The defender jabs with its spines, but the intruder smelled this a long way coming - the male of this territory has a stink to it that makes it frightfully disadvantaged in his battle. The defender listens intently - the fungal grass rustles all over. The intruder is confusing it, using its back legs to kick up soil and mushrooms and make itself sound larger than it actually is. The fresh scent of exposed soil unveils the truth to the defender, though, and it keeps its calm, much to the increasingly impatient intruder’s chagrin. The defending party truly has fortified itself well, the spores and scent of its bushroom stronghold masking its scent just well enough that the intruder cannot smell exactly where its spines are - if it attacks, the intruder can dodge, but this will be a long siege if they keep going like this. 

It is perhaps at this moment that the intruder chooses to notice the third party in this duel, the sweaty, sea-salted scent of the nelven huntress growing increasingly ominous by the second. The intruder was certain this would be a quick fight - the defender was already in deep trouble; it only had to sneak in and take its territory while it struggled against its foe. However, it seemed that both the defender and the huntress were most cunning, indeed. A secret deal, they had wordlessly made - the huntress would spare the defender today, and in exchange, she would get an even fatter prey. The intruder realises this all too late, for as it prepares to waddle away in panic, a crushing [i]clack![/i] sends the hooting owl flying, and the intruder lies dying amongst the fungal grass, its back paralyzed by a swift and expert whack of the night elf’s paddle-like club. 

The hunt is over. Satisfied, the huntress pulls a length of glowberry vine off a nearby sun-cap megafungus, using it to tie the carcass to her paddle. This is a good catch - it’ll feed her and her family for a few days, a week if they portion it out. Eyeing the bushroom as she leaves, she offers the hedgehog there a few clicks of gratitude. The hedgehog answers by excreting a sour and bitter stink - a clear signal that she is not welcome in its lands ever again. The nelf takes the hint quickly before any spines catch her feet and leaves for her home.

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She was on a roll now, the huntress - this was her third hedgehog bull in four months. With this, she would surely be given permission.

Yes, the chief would have to let her go now.

Her stride quickened with anticipation, eager steps skipping across white fungal grass and moss that seemed to blink with colour as she stepped on it. Suddenly her eyes and face filled with a tickling sensation and she got to waving, spitting and swatting. Small, aggressive wafts of all were all over and eventually disappeared. She stood still for a second, spitting and dragging her tongue against her teeth.

“Damn moths,” she whispered to herself. The wheeze of bats zoomed above as those same moths quickly became the prey of the dukes and duchesses of the sky. A distance away again, the kings and queens offered some curious hoots. She picked up her pace again - wouldn’t want the owls growing too interested in her catch. Still, though, she had to tread carefully - these weren’t her woods, after all; anything could happen here. She made certain to keep her eyes as peeled as could be and her ears as open - if she accidentally planted her foot in hedgehog dung, she would have a bad day; an anthill, a bad week.

She froze. There was a terrible buzzing on the air, like a storm. It was distant still, but if it came any closer, her fantastic luck would turn to the cruelest misfortune. She dove down into the bushrooms, covering herself in the soil, mud and goo of the forest floor. She tried her best to do the same with her catch, but the noise was getting too close now for her to make any sudden moves anymore. The buzzing was deafening, frightening all other wildlife in the area into hiding. It zoomed and whooshed here and there for a bit, stopping in certain places and then continuing on to others. The huntress knew very clearly what it was, hence why she had been so quick to hide.

It was a Vespian.

The workers didn’t come often to her parts of the island, but she wasn’t in her parts now - and she had heard rumours that the workers of the Storming Hive, located on southwestern coast, would sometimes stalk the nightblack woods in search of foraging nelves - few other meats were tastier to them, better even than fresh meat of titan crabs. The worker would not get her meal today, though. Thankfully for the nelf, her hastened disguise had worked, though - the Vespian took off shortly after arriving. That was the nelven advantage in their fight against this enemy: Four hammering wings holding up a nelf-sized insect produced a deafening amount of noise - one would have to be deaf, daft or just really unlucky to not get out of sight and smelling range in time. Fighting off Vespians, however, was a very different challenge, one few nelves ever survived. Even with the advantage of darkness, camouflage and silence, the Vespian venom and ability to fly were more often than not simply too powerful in a fight between the two species - and Vespians multipled much faster than nelves did. She waited a bit longer despite the fact that she knew even a low buzz in the distance meant she was far, far out of its auditory and olfactory range. She wriggled out from under the blanket of mud and slime and brought her catch along. She had to shake it a bit, for even in the curt minutes she had laid still, there had been more than enough time for all kinds of crawlers to probe around in its fur to look for an opening to feast from. The huntress flicked the smallest of them away, but would pick up one of the larger ones between every third or fourth flick, give it a whiff and take a crunchy or slimy bite. Beetles and grubs were good road snacks, after all, if one made sure to eat the right ones. She picked up a large one which had a bulbous lower body that excreted a vile stink - in an instant, she tossed it as far as she could in a single reactionary move. The bileback was nothing to scoff at - its acid spray had melted many a nelven nose in the past. Her pause didn’t last much longer after that - maybe she had one or two more grubs before she continued homewards. The Vespian’s presence had helped her solidify where she was, though, and she picked up her pace. Indeed, in under an hour, her nose smelled familiar plants and odours; her feet knew which stones to avoid and where the anthills were. The lichen here shone with a homewarm hue, and the bats screamed in a welcoming manner. The huntress hopped and ducked and slid, entering a cage of myconroots underneath a colossal sun-cap. She expertly danced between the roots and entered into an open cave under the mega-fungus, wherein glowing lichen and moss had been purposely cultivated in tall, ivy-like nets along the walls. Upon them, insects and slugs all grazed with lethargic glee, themselves taking on faint glows from their diets. The cave split into a multitude of tunnels along the walls, some lit by the lichen and others, blacker than night itself. The huntress looked around the cave and lowered her oar club to the ground, the wet corpse of the hedgehog sloppily spreading out on its back. 

“Aren’t you a little old to play in the mud?” came a quiet whisper and the huntress caught herself smiling. The moss on the ground lit up around one pair of approaching feet, the flashes dimly hinting to a male form - clothed in a loincloth adorned with feathers, chitin and cowry shells, and with a vest of giant bat fur. The huntress reached out to him, her hand landing on his belly, and he returned the gesture. 

“I’m home, Gyatso.”

“Welcome back, Ngaso. So, you’re going to tell me what happened, then?”

The huntress squatted down and started untying the hedgehog from her club. “Oh, nothing dire, that’s for sure, but it was unexpected. The tracks took me much farther west than I had anticipated, so I couldn’t make it back home before I felt my body ache from all the walking, so I ended up sleeping outside.”

“As you do, as you do. Any hole’s a home when you’re far from family, as elders say, but why did you stay out for another two nights, then?” The male clicked in slight disapproval. Ngaso clicked back with a tinge of submission.

“W-well, I got caught in the moment and continued following the tracks.”

“For two days?”

“For two days. See, chasing [abbr=Oi’wet term for giant hedgehog.][i]migwü[/i][/abbr] is no small task, y’know.” The huntress patted her hip until she found a stone biface underneath one of her many hip straps.

“Ngaso,” Gyatso sighed.

She looked to be busy gutting the hedgehog. “Yeah?” she answered passively.

“You and I both know that [i]migwü[/i] don’t migrate.”

Ngaso pointed her biface correctingly in his direction. “Don’t migrate [i]far[/i], you mean! They are still quite a challenge to spot and catch!”

Gyatso sighed again. “Alright, you win this discussion, but I still don’t understand how it could take you three days of rest and four nights of hunting just to come home with a single bull [i]migwü[/i].”

Ngaso slowed down her carving and pursed her lips to burble thoughtfully. She looked around, flexing her ears and nostrils. Gyatso frowned and squatted down next to her. “What’s going on with you-- woah!” With a swift hooked arm, Ngaso pulled Gyatso in next to her and brought him around so they both faced the exit. She once again looked over their shoulders, glaring suspiciously at the many tunnels leading deeper into the cave. Then with a lightning motion, she stuck her hand in under her salamander scale vest. Gyatso squealed.

“What’re you--!”

“Ssh!” She looked over her shoulder again whilst digging. Gyatso whimpered in embarrassment.

“This is so icky!” he complained.

“Stop fussing so much and pay attention.” She extracted her hand again and held up for them both to see, but not so visibly that any other eyes could catch them. It was difficult to see, but the two of them could just barely see a crystal with an orange hue between Ngaso’s finger and thumb - one the size of palm. Gyatso was about to squeal again, but Ngaso covered his lips before he could. The man looked to be jumping where he squatted, unleashing his overflow of excitement in any way he could. Finally, upon calming down, he hunkered together with Ngaso again, this time taking the secrecy as seriously as her.

“Where’d you find it?”

“Ssh, don’t wanna say that here!”

Gyatso looked over his shoulder yet again. “Does Zilandra know?”

“‘Course she doesn’t. Why do you think we’re keeping this so secret?”

“Got it. So… How will you get it to the Master? That’s probably the biggest chunk I’ve ever seen, you know - he’ll make you a [abbr=Literally “Princess-in-Waiting”, a noble title.][i]za’a’a[/i][/abbr] on the spot.”

“That’s why I was gone for so long, man - I found a route.”

“Oh sssh--...! Where?”

Ngaso’s right ear twitched - as did Gyatso’s left. A groan of moss and lichen sounded behind them - approaching footsteps. Ngaso hastened to hide her find and gave Gyatso’s cheek a kiss. “Can’t tell you now. I will when the deed is done.”

Gyatso nodded and kissed her back. “Alright.” Then they both rose and turned to behold another female, arms crossed over one another over a belly full of life. Skeptical milky eyes beheld them both, and then came a low, warning growl aimed at Ngaso, who returned the noise in challenge.

“And what’re you two conspiring about?” she asked.

“Nothing much. I just came home from my hunt and just happened to meet Gyatso right here. What, aren’t we allowed to chat?”

The woman’s growl grew quieter, but her glare didn’t subside. “Depends on what you’re chatting about. Don’t think I don’t know you two - you’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“And why do we -have- to be up to something, Zilandra, do tell.”

The woman paused and squinted. “Don’t think I won’t tell on you when I find out what you’re doing. Your [abbr=”Friend-kin” - family in the Oi’wet is a very fluid concept.][i]zü’ik[/i][/abbr] will shame you into the ground!”

Ngaso shook her head. “After we’re done, I highly doubt that. That’s why they’re [i]zü’ik[/i].” Gyatso gave her a reassuring nod.

“So you -are- up to something!” Zilandra accused. Ngaso sighed.

“Listen, Zilandra - we don’t have time to listen to your nagging for much longer, so I will be taking my food and head home, okay?”

“I hope you choke on it,” Zilandra replied venomously. Ngaso rolled her eyes.

“Understood… See you around, Gyatso.”

“Mm. See ya, Ngaso.” As Ngaso picked up her butchered prey and brought it past Zilandra, she could hear the woman approach Gyatso with a warning whisper.

“... I don’t like you talking to her, you know.”

“Well, that’s your opinion, isn’t it? She’s [i]zü’ik[/i].”

“-We- used to be [i]zü’ik[/i]! What happ…” The whisper faded into nothingness for a short while as Ngaso turned the corner and stepped into a smaller tunnel. Then came a deafening whisper that was almost a voice: “I’M NOT POSSESSIVE!” Ngaso snickered to herself and turned another corner. She ducked under a curtain she knew was there and stepped into a dimly lit room. She felt a familiar sweaty smell and sighed warmly.

“Welcome home, Nga. You were gone for longer than you said you’d be.”

“Yeah, well, took a detour. How’re you doing, Trung?” The man in the corner, sat atop a massive mushroom cap cushion, held a small, sleeping child in his arms. Ngaso sucked in a breath and stepped over to touch his and the child’s belly. “Shoot, I didn’t wake him, did, I?”

“Don’t think so,” whispered Trung quietly and paused to listen to its breathing. “No, you didn’t. He’d be crazy if he saw you now.” Ngaso grinned giddily and caressed the boy’s black hair.

“Little Ngung… Has he met his [i]zü’ik[/i] yet?”

“Yeah, I took him to see Hung and Ngoi yesterday. Ngung and Ngoi clicked right away, but time will tell if Hung’ll be part of his [i]zü’ik[/i] at all, honestly. They seemed outright hostile towards one another.”

Ngaso sat down next to him. “What did he take his food or something?” Trung shrugged.

“Could be, could be. I was too busy eating with Silla to really pay attention.” He looked over at Ngaso to see her fiddling under her vest. “Hey, can you not? I’m holding a child here.”

“Wha-- no! Why does everyone keep--... Nevermind. Look at this!” She pulled out the orange stone, letting it catch the light of the lichen. Trung squinted, then widened his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Oh, Night, that’s…” He lowered his whisper. “That’s [abbr=”Sun-blood”, or amber from sun-cap mega-fungi.][i]tau-tau’nüt[/i][/abbr]. Is that real--... Oh, by the Stars…” Ngaso nodded smilingly, but Trung’s brow quickly knotted itself together and he eyed the opening to their cave. “Wait, if you have this, why did you come home? Why didn’t you run straight to the sea instead of taking the risk?”

Ngaso clicked over at the butchered hedgehog. “Well, I had to bring back food for my [i]zü’ik[/i], didn’t I?” Trung eyed the catch and sighed with a roll of his eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that. Me and the rest, we’d, we’d be fine! This is way more important than--” A finger closed his lips.

“I will not let you finish that sentence.” She then leaned back into the mushroom cushion and gave the ceiling a glance. “No matter what happens when I give this to the Master, I won’t leave my [i]zü’ik[/i] behind, you understand? You are my friends - my organs. Without you, I will die.”

“As the elders say,” Trung concurred. They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then the man placed a hand on her belly and nodded. “Alright… Take whatever’s left of the jerky in the basket and whatever leaves are left as food for the journey.”

Ngaso nodded. “Is Ngie roosting tonight?”

Trung knotted his brow in thought. “It should be day right now, but I’m not sure. You may have to travel on foot. Be very, very careful.”

“I will check just in case,” she responded and hurried over to the baskets at the other end of the small dirt cave to pack her supplies. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Trung clicked happily. “Be safe, my friend.”

Ngaso clicked back and ran outside. Luckily, no one else were out in the public areas of the cave, so she didn’t have to sneak as stealthily. Once she had climbed back outside, she hopped atop some smaller rocks and then continued to ascend a spiral ladder of rods buried into the trunk of their home mushroom. It was a long climb - thirty metres, almost - but she eventually reached the top and climbed through one of the many holes buried through the sun-cap sponge. This was the tougher part, for there were people in here, too. Immediately as she climbed inside, she was met with some judging stares. She sniffed politely and clicked her greeting, moving over to touch the stretched out hands of the closest of them. “Good night,” she greeted.

“Going somewhere, Ngaso?”

Ngaso stopped as she was about to turn the corner. Shrugging, she clicked pensively. “No, just wanted to see the night sky, pretty much.”

The group exchanged looks. “That’s a bit late now - sunrise’ll be here any minute.”

“Oh, it’s, it’s just a quick look. The shamans said tonight would reveal my horoscope, and I came home from a hunt just some time ago.”

After a pause, there came a quick scoff. “Alright, suit yourself. We’re not sharing any eye-ointment.”

“Understood. Have a nice day!”

“Mhm…” Ngaso hurried on through the tunnels in the sponge, encountering many other faces in passing, none of which she stopped to greet, however. She would have to be swift - if only she could find Ngie and take off before sunrise! She turned a final corner and skipped up a slope, seeing the uncannily bright night sky above, reds at its horizon hinting at the approach of dawn. She paused for just a second - the sight here would never seize to amaze her: As far as the eye could see, there were green, fuzzy mushroom caps the size of plateaus, growing over and under one another like bubbles in boiling water. Many had small trees and shrubberies growing on top of them, while others were completely barren and baked after centuries of exposure to sunlight. These would crumble under the own weight in time, allowing new sun-caps to grow and momentarily exposing the myconforest below to the terror of the Sun. Ngaso hurried to snap herself out of her awe. Ngie! She had to find Ngie! She sped off in the direction of the disappearing night sky, seeing a faint, milky light at the distant end of the mushroom cap. She panted her relief - Ngie was still here.

There, at the very edge of the cap, huddling in its shadow, a fully grown [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/divinus-mk4/images/9/98/Rafael-teruel-spitpaint-253-night-owl-b-by-rafater-rafael-teruel.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/310?cb=20200316214939]owlix[/url] was getting ready to take flight. Ngaso called out, “Ngie!” and it stopped, looking in her direction with enormous, glowing eyes. Ngaso came to a stop in front of it, fishing a piece of jerky out of her pack. “Heeey, birdie! How’re you feeling?” The owlix snapped up the piece in one bite and gulped it down as though it was a lonely crumb. It looked at her expectantly afterwards, but a frown on its avian face revealed that it could guess what she was after. Ngaso ran her fingers through its feathers and dow, scratching it here and there to sway it to her side. “Sooo… I need you to take me to the ocean…” The owlix recognised that sentence very well, so that was all she needed to say. However, it kept looking at the reddening morning sky and then gazed down between the cracks in the caps below, where it would fly if it was to roost for the day. Flying down there, though, would be out of the question - it was much too dark for the owlix, and they would no doubt be spotted. Ngaso held up another piece of meat. “I don’t have too many of these, so please help me?” Ngie let out the equivalent of an owl sigh and took the bite, hooting grumpily as it turned its back to her and allowed her to climb on. “Remind me to hunt a hedgehog for you and you alone, you wonderful beast!” Ngie didn’t respond, but something told Ngaso that would be a minimum requirement. The great bird kicked off and spread its enormous wings, fashioned so that, despite its wingspan being as long as ten nelves would be tall, the owlix glided through the air without making so much as a sound. This expert hunter of the night flew like a ghost, inaudible even to the nelven sentries readying themselves for the dayshift. They thus slipped by unnoticed and soared over towards the beach, landing in the middle of a great coral and seashell plaza that stuck out from the white beach like a cliff in a grassplain. A great, bleached coral altar was erected at the tip, the salt of seawater encrusted upon it like plaque on a tooth; around it laid pots and baskets of every size, some empty and some filled everywhere from halfway up to the brim with the bounty of the fungal forest - mushrooms, stones, berries, meat, rare weeds and moss, and much, much more. They were offerings - offerings to the Master.

Ngaso looked around - the plaza was abandoned at this hour of the night, very much due to the fact that the blinding, burning rays of the sun were peaking over the horizon in the east, catching her eyes with murderous intent. Hastily, she pulled out a rolled up length of vine from under her vest and tied it around her eyes. Robbed of her sight, she descended to all fours and crawled her way over towards the altar as carefully as she could to avoid cutting her palms and feet on the coral floor. Behind her, she heard the flap of wings - Ngie sounded impatient.

“It’s okay, Ngie - I’ll be just a moment, don’t--... Wait, Ngie, don’t--!” Alas, a great buffet of wind forces her to grab onto the ground as the great owlix let out a defiant hoot and, within seconds, was nowhere to be heard. Ngaso drew a deep sigh and kept crawling forward. “... Make that another week or so of sleeping in the wild…” She came to a halt a few metres in front of the altar, listening intently to the surroundings - the deafening thunder of the sea nearly choked out all other noise, so she had to focus. She knew well that just within the border of the fungal forest, there was a great village - the largest on the island - home to the Altarkeepers and the priests of the Coven of Utzuul. They weren’t Oi’wet like herself, but Za’a’alim, and as the strongest tribe with the tightest connection to the Master, they had a say in who could and could not make use of the altar - and a measly Oi’wet huntress like herself could not.

However, she’d be damned if she would have to give her [i]tau-tau’nüt[/i] to some acolyte who then would take all the honour for the find and be rewarded in her stead - no, this was her accomplishment, and regardless of the consequences for herself and her tribe, she would take the risk if the reward meant glory for her [i]zü’ik[/i]. She felt a sharp wall in front of her and clapped it gently - it had to be the altar. Using it as guidance, she brought herself to her feet before it, patting the rough surface with utmost care as to not cut herself. She took a deep breath, testing hypotheses for how to use the altar in her mind. She had been to offerings a few times before, but only her tribal chief had ever been allowed near the plaza; now that she stood here herself, she was clueless.

“I summon the Master,” she whispered and waited. The sea lapped at the beach and plaza, but was otherwise silent.

“I, Ngosa of the Oi’wet, call upon the Master of the Seas!” Again, the ocean was unresponsive. The growing anxiety telling her that she could be noticed at any point grew stronger and stronger, and the pain of the rising sun on her skin added more and more reasons for her to run back into the forest.

“Please! Is anyone down there?!” She turned an ear to the forest. Nothing out of the ordinary had come yet, but it could happen at any moment. That was when Ngosa remembered something - at the beginning of every offering, just before the Master had come out of the sea, there had always been a sound - hollow dunks followed by a reverberating hum, as though someone had beaten a very large empty skull. She ducked into the shadow of the altar and lifted her blindfold ever so slightly - the leading priest had carried something to every ceremony - of course! That was what was used to summon the Master! It had been a, a horn of some kind - a tusk as long as a nelf was tall. All she had to do was find it and, and, and it wasn’t here. Her breathing picked up speed - the horn wasn’t here! She slapped herself in her face - they surely brought it with them back into the village between every offering. She cursed her incompetence - she had put herself in an incredibly dangerous position by coming here, and she hadn’t even prepared. In frustration, she punched the altar and immediately squealed - the sharp teeth of the coral had cut her knuckles and fingers bloody. She pressed the wounded hand to her mouth, tongue licking the cuts as clean as possible. However, quickly thereafter, her ears picked up the faintest of sound coming from the forest; she lifted her blindfold again and squinted over the edge of the plaza, but couldn’t get a proper look in the light of the dawn. She tried smelling the air for a hint, but the winds by the ocean blew in over the land, and all her nostrils filled with was the stench of rotting seaweed. She decided the best course of action was to lie still, pray that whatever was coming wouldn’t see her shadow against the backdrop of the morning sun. However, she miscalculated.

“HEY!” came a furious snarl, and Ngosa instinctively pressed herself up against the altar, the coral digging into her back. Ascending the hill to the top of the plaza came two women, dressed heavily in robes fashioned from fibres and fish skin, armed with clubs fanged with shark teeth all around the plank-like head. They wore special soft shoes that gave them an excellent grip on the coral plaza, while sparing their feet any injury. Their eyes were covered under a net of black lichen that cast a shade over their eyes while allowing them to see perfectly fine even at dawn; their ears were covered from the sun, but left open to every angle with the use of flaps that could both dampen and amplify noise; and their noses were perfectly exposed to the air - they had every sensory advantage over here, and she was as visible to them as white marble in a pile of coal. They approached her with murderous intent, grabbing the hilts of their clubs with both hands. “You scheming blasphemer! You have no right to be here!” As the closest one raised her club, Ngosa rolled out of the way, her back only being saved from the claws of the floor by the grace of her skin vest - her arm and knee were not as lucky, however, and Ngosa whimpered painfully as she crawled over towards the edge of the tall plaza, leaving a trail of blood as she hastened away. She followed the sound of the ocean to the edge of the cliff-like plaza, the updraft telling both her skin and ears that there were powerful forces churning at the bottom. 

She heard the two pairs of feet trap her on the corner she had escaped to, and the smell of her own blood was becoming stronger than the stink of the ocean. She heard the two women snicker to each other before one of them whispered, “Did you think you could come onto the Altar of the Oceanborn and make an offering just like that? Such insolence; such arrogance.”

“A heretic like you deserves nothing more than to be cast upon the sea - to be chum for the spawn of the Tyrant-Under-The-Moon.” Then Ngosa felt two arms grab hers and pull her to her feet. She struggled, but being blind, weak and wounded made her resistance meek and sloppy. She felt them turn her around, and the offensive blast of sunbeams singed at her skin as though she stood next to a bonfire. She was pushed forward slightly, and she felt her cut feet peek over the edge. 

“No please… PLEASE! I can’t swim!”

“The Reef-Lord cares not whether you float or sink. If anything, it will be mercy if you drown before you are found. Now, gaze into the depths and be reunited with your ancestors in the Abyssal Paradise.” With that, Ngosa felt another push, and her belly screamed that she was in free fall. A few seconds later, she broke the surface of the water headfirst, crashing through a wave in the process of falling. The force pulled her body further underneath, immediately dragging her far away from the plaza. Then she stopped briefly before the force of the ocean pushed her the other way, back towards the lethal coral wall. Barely having time to react, she kicked off just in time to that only her feet, which already were cut open, were once more clawed asunder by the wall. Then she was dragged back out. Desperately, she tried to swim for the surface, but the current wouldn’t let her. She tried to escape the tow of the waves, but the sea was stronger. As air became scarce and her nose and mouth filled with seawater, she began to lose strength. She was bloody, tired and choking. Her blindfold loosened after a bit and floated off, allowing her eyes to see the blurry sight of the ocean, red as it was with the light of dawn. She had failed - she had failed in a most cruel manner. All she wanted was for her and her [i]zü’ik[/i] to be seen - to be heard. Now, she would not only lose her life, but the treasure that could have given them so much, would probably wash up on the beach for someone else to claim.

Oddly enough, her weakened state of mind made her oddly contemplative, and she reached under her vest to retrieve the amber stone for one last peek. She wasn’t sure if she did that at all, really - she could very well have imagined it, but as her fingers, real or not, caressed the jewel ever so slightly, she heard a deep, reverberating thunder surround her. This was it - the gates to the afterlife were opening for her. However, barely conscious, she still felt something, and a second rumble was followed by a slimey, forceful sensation. Wasn’t it just her luck, Ngosa thought, that she couldn’t even die before being ripped apart by one of the Abyssal Lords… She felt her body grow limp and she lost consciousness. Darkness gripped her and she felt her soul grow fluid. She floated out of her form, and a blinding light stronger than the sun offered a paradoxically inviting call for her to approach. She blinked and took a step.

Then, like a dagger to her mouth, she felt air surge down into her lungs. She coughed violently and squirmed - she was suspended in the air, held aloft only by a fat, wriggling belt around her belly. She heard that thunder again, like an earthquake that vibrated through her form, but it was no natural force, this - this was a voice, and the light of dawn kept her from seeing what produced it. The voice hammered at her ears again, instinctively causing her to cover them in agony. 

“STOOOOP, PLEASE!” she wheezed, kicking and squirming for freedom. The grip around her torso remained tight, however, and no matter her efforts, she couldn’t break free. It was then that she noticed the world around her darkening, almost to the point where she could open her eyes. Upon doing so, she looked straight up into three pairs of eyes, blinding menacingly down at her from above. She realised quickly that the darkness around her was the shadow of this massive creature, and she found herself overcome with an instinctive need to escape, like a mouse in the clutches of a sadistically playful cat. However, the monster held her still, only offering a silent glare. Then, in notes so deep that even nelven ears struggled to hear them, another quake rumbled through the ocean. Not long after, a small head peeked out from under the waves. At first, Ngosa’s cloudy vision mistook it for one of her own - its long ears and dark skin immediately brought connotations of the Nelven. However, as she looked closer, the creature’s piscine features begun to stand out more and more - webbed hands and finned forearms kept it afloat; its head had an impressive crest of fins and spikes in a myriad of powerful colours; and its face was smooth and glazed like that of a fresh fish. She swallowed - it was one of the holy people, the chosen of the sea.

An [abbr=”Drowned”][i]apzü[/i][/abbr].

The creature made itself as small as it could and spoke to the monster in a much quieter and much more tempered version of the quaking language, but even Ngosa could still tell that there was divine and ancient power behind every word, even if it was a dialect. The monster quietly thundered an answer and the [i]apzü[/i] looked up at Ngosa and spoke, “Landwalker - does this stone belong to you?”

Ngosa blinked over at the orange gem still held by one of the monster’s four manipulator limbs. She nodded increasingly fast. “Y-yes! I-I brought it as, as a gift! A gift for the Master!” The [i]apzü[/i] nodded and translated. The grip around Ngosa’s waist loosened slightly, allowing her to breathe more comfortably. The titan of the sea drew its six eyes from her to the [i]apzü[/i] and tasted the words. It thundered something back and the translator nodded.

“Her Ladyship Vydianuxurl wishes to convey her most sincere congratulations to you for coming all this way to bring this stellar gift to His Lordship Raangarmodrul, Grand Warden of the Northern Seas, Gate-Keeper to the Abyssal Paradise, Patriach of the House of Raan, Tyrant of [abbr=”Moon-Reef”]Gexou[/abbr] and seventh spawn of the Immortal All-Tyrant Kaarnesxaturl. She says that, if she was to judge from your appearance, you have gone through quite the ordeal to come here.” Drops of Ngosa’s blood still pittered against the water surface below and the nelf swallowed.

“I… I came for my [i]zü’ik[/i]... We don’t have much, but we were hoping we’d… That this gift could…”

“OUR LADY!” came a sudden call from the coral plateau on the beach. The Vrool’s thunderous dialogue had drawn a crowd, and now at least a hundred nelves dressed in the same heavy robes and shoes as the guards earlier came running over to the altar, from which they stood at eye-level with the Vrool. Once there, they collapsed to their padded knees, torso pointing to the sky and head hung forwards, hands collected neatly in a cup stretched out before them. In the lead was an old priestess, handsomely decorated with hedgehog spines gathered in a wide necklace around her throat, a mighty headdress fashioned from an owlix skull, and the bones and skeletons of fish decorating her sleeves and ending in skull “gloves” over her hands. “We apologise dearly, Our Lady!” she pleaded, backed up by the whispering whimpers of her fellow acolytes and villagers. “She was never meant to come here - our guards tried to stop her before she could insult Your Lady’s patriarch’s holy altar with her filth! Please, let us wrest the names of her [i]zü’ik[/i] out of her so they may all be offered to Our Lord with all haste!”

Vydianuxurl silently regarded the acolytes. She thundered another few sentences or so, and the translator nodded. A tendril lifted the [i]apzü[/i] out of the water and placed her atop the altar. Swiftly, the acolytes shifted their stances to face her instead. “O holy Oceanborn [i]apzü[/i], good aunt Kanani Tama’Kai o'te'Akau-Raki, we are thankful that you have come! Please, let Our Lady know that--”

“SILEEEEEEENCE!” screamed the translator so loudly that it nearly dazed the nelves. She pointed to Ngosa and continued, the acolytes barely having recovered. “Lowly, unfaithful scum such as you may not refer to me as “aunt”. You dare obstruct a loyal subject of the Tyrant from bringing her offering to Him?!”

“B-but now is not the time of offering--!”

“Now is not the time of offering?! Such foolishness; such sightlessness! Are you, a Nelf, so lost to your age that you cannot see past your own, graying eye lashes?! Her Ladyship is grievously wounded that your guards could even consider taking the life of someone so devoted to the Lord that she would defy tribe and Altarkeepers just to give Him this magnificent gift.” The Lady held up the piece of mushroom amber, its orange colour catching the red dawn and blasting rays like blood across the plaza. The acolytes swallowed as one - its beauty was incomparable. They extended their hands forward again and whispered for forgiveness.

“Forgive us, Drowned One - we could not see; her gift truly is beyond our feeble imaginations! Pray tell - what will she be given in return?”

The translator scoffed at their pleas, but translated all the same. A moment passed before the Lady offered her rumbling reply. The [i]apzü[/i] nodded slowly and turned sideways so she could shift from the acolytes to Ngosa. “The Lady shall deliver the gift to the Lord today - His verdict will be given at sundown. Until then, you are to dress this one’s wounds, and treat her as though she was [i]apzü[/i].”

“As though she was--?!”

“AS THOUGH SHE WAS [i]APZÜ[/i], YES! You heard correctly, Grand Acolyte Kwosé. If even one word reaches the depths that you have shirked this duty, the Lord will rip the entire tribe of Za’a’alim out of the Fungal Forest and drown each and every one of you in the blackest abyss.”

The nelves couldn’t utter a single word in response. The [i]apzü[/i] nodded slowly, the backdrop of the sun looking to finally be getting to her. She turned to face her Lady and let her place the weak, bleeding form of Ngosa in her arms. She carefully descended from the altar and spoke, “You two - get up and carry this one to the House of the Coven. Give her food, rest and healing. Be thorough, or you and your [i]zü’ik[/i] will feed the Lord’s next clutch.” Quickly, the kneeling nelves got to their feet and hurried to carry the wounded Ngosa down towards the forest and into the village. Ngosa felt her exhaustion overtake her - sunburns all over her frail skin didn’t do much good either. As the welcoming shadows of the forest loomed overhead, she closed her eyes and faded into deep slumber.

[hr]

Ngosa had no recollection of the day’s sleep - it had been too deep for dreams. All she remembered from the day before was pain - the pain of light in her eyes, the pain of sun on her skin, the pain of the cuts all over her body, and the pain of that thundering voice that never seemed to leave her skull. She was shaken awake, finding herself on a bed surrounded by tent walls - a new sensation, seeing as she had never slept on one before. The mattress was made of sea sponges, kept only slightly moist by the air itself, which was thick with humidity. Over sponges had been laid a sheet of the softest seal fur, and her head rested on a pillow of owl dow. The room smelled wonderful, herbal steam rising from fissures under the walls. She heard some clicks and turned to regard the face of an acolyte, so designated by the appearance of his clothing. He seemed reluctantly respectful towards her, refusing to look into her eyes and instead bowing his head to her. He then pushed himself away, stabilised himself on his knees and held his hands forward in surrender. “Honoured One - forgive my disrespect in awakening you from your slumber. The Great Tyrant summons you to the altar.”

Ngosa tried to move, but crippling aches from all over her body stopped her movement dead. The acolyte nodded slowly. “Be careful, Honoured One - you lost quite a bit of blood yesterday, and some of your cuts were quite deep. Much of your body, too, was burned by the cruel sun. With honesty, I confess I admire your conviction to your [i]zü’ik[/i] for what you endured.”

Ngosa sighed. “Th-thank you…” There was then a pause. Her body had been covered with bandages and ointments, and even without the pain, it had been difficult to move. “C-could you help me up? I cannot seem to--”

“Please, Honoured One - let us get you a palanquin.”

“Oh, no, that won’t be--!” But before she could finish her sentence, the acolyte had already hastened out of the tent. She clicked in slight discontent - this was all going so fast: One day, she’s an enemy of the most powerful tribe in the land, and the next, she’s practically royalty. She knew the gem would be worth quite a bit, but she had never imagined this sort of treatment. Footsteps outside indicated the acolyte had returned, and he had brought friends. Three more joined him into the tent and gently carried Ngosa out into a palanquin fashioned from shroomwood and upholstered with sea sponges covered in a carpet of plant fibre. A drape of vines and fibres hung low over the seat to shield it from the sun. She was placed softly down on the cushions and the acolytes took their places by each of the palanquin’s four handles. Then, before Ngosa could properly prepare herself, they lifted her up and began carrying her towards the ocean. She didn’t know if she could get used to this lifestyle - it was eerily comfortable, and a shift in class like this one would give her frightening habits, surely. They stepped out onto the beach, where the moon was making its ascent towards its zenith. Ngosa felt the palanquin tip backwards slightly as the acolytes ascended the slope up to the altar. She smelt the ocean and heard the waves crash, and before her, she saw an even bigger Vrool than the one who was slowly making its way back into her memories by the second. This Vrool was enormous, its presence radiating terrifying authority like any apex predator, but amplified by a thousand factors. Its silvery skin glistened in the moonlight, and tendrils fat like tree trunks lapped sloppily at the coral altar with deceitful weakness. Ngosa’s palanquin was placed down before the altar, and she stepped out to see the plateau and the beach below packed with acolytes and villagers, many from other tribes than the Za’a’alim. No one from the Oi’wet had come, but they had surely not had the time to travel all the way in a single evening. Stepping up next to her was the [i]apzü[/i] from the day before, flashing Ngosa a smirk.

“Nervous?” she asked. Ngosa blinked.

“W-what?” The [i]apzü[/i] amiably placed a hand on her belly and a finger over her lips.

“Don’t worry, landwalker. The Lord was incredibly pleased with your gift - you have done well. You have done so well, in fact, that He Himself has come to personally grant you your reward.” Kanani gestured up to the tyrant and Ngosa followed her hand with her eyes. The giant’s eyes fixed on her, and even though the [i]apzü[/i] had described it as such, Ngosa couldn’t find a shred of kindness in its eyes. Kanani spoke a few sentences in their language and the tyrant thundered. The waves themselves seemed to roll harder and faster, attacking the beach with terrible momentum and knocking several onlookers onto their backs. The clouds briefly flew by faster, covering the moon and inviting even black darkness over the ceremony. Then, it calmed, and the translator nodded. She climbed onto the altar and raised her palms to the air, all the onlookers kneeling and presenting their hands in surrender. Ngosa skittered to do the same, but Kanani gestured for her to stop and stay standing. “HEAR THE TYRANT’S COMMAND!” shouted Kanani, the nelves grabbing their ears in pain. Kanani smirked and continued, “This one, Ngosa of the Oi’wet, has offered the Tyrant a most beautiful gift! Even as thoughtless specimen of her own species attempted to have her killed in the act, she persevered, and the Tyrant was given His prize! Loyalty and service to the Abyssal Lord and Tyrant of Gexou is its own reward, but acts like these are too few and too far between - they should thus be commemorated, so all will remember the strength of allegiance!” 

As her speech came to an end, something climbed out of the water - they were [i]apzü[/i], but smaller - dwarven, almost - and rough with barnacles all over. Some had piscine or requine heads, and their finned feet and hands made them out to be some form of subspecies of the higher [i]apzü[/i]. These were, however, quite clearly a laborer caste, perhaps one that covered the whole subspecies, seeing as they were so uniform in shape and size. They climbed up onto the altar, one arm carrying sacks fashioned from fish skin. These were put down on the floor before Ngosa, one after another, until the pile reached her almost to her hips. She swallowed and looked to Kanani, who smirked knowingly. “Go ahead,” she said, “these are all yours. Open one if you wish.” Ngosa did as suggested and opened one of the sacks. The sight immediately stole her breath, and all who stood around her were equally smitten by its contents.

Every sack, which was about the size of a large pumpkin, were filled to the brim with pearls. Ngosa collapsed to her knees in shock and looked up at the grinning Kanani and the silent Lord, her tongue twisting itself as she tried to formulate words. Finally, she managed to say, “Th-this is too much! All I gave was but a small piece of--”

Kanani wagged a finger at her and clicked disapprovingly. “Now, now, do not deny a gift from His Lordship - that is most disgraceful.”

“B-b-but---... All this! This is so much more than I gave! How is this fair?!” 

Kanani scoffed condescendingly and knelt down next to Ngosa. She took a pearl between two fingers and hooked Ngosa’s shoulders with her arm, bringing them both to a stand so they could regard the pearl’s sheen in the moonlight. Behind them, the crowds were over themselves with awe. “Allow me to tell you a story from the depths, my dear Ngosa: Down there is a world completely unlike the surface - the servants of the Reef-Lord never go hungry; we live in such luxury that we only swim to stay in shape - our chariots can take us anywhere, should we wish for it; we have riches from all around the world. These pearls?” She flicked the one in her hand back into the ocean. “These are just the ones that have collected in the corners of the mighty Tyrant’s abode.”

Ngosa was speechless. The Tyrant’s glare was unmoving, and she could see in his eyes that he understood everything the [i]apzü[/i] had said, and agreed with every point. Kanani continued, “However… What you have brought the Grand Warden, what you call [i]tau-tau’nüt[/i], it exists nowhere but on this island, and a piece as large as the one you found has not been found for over a thousand years. Not a billion pearls could even compare to the magnificence of this find.” She patted Ngosa approvingly on the shoulder and let her slump back to her knees. “Now, I must, of course, warn you not to fall into hatchling sickness.”

Ngosa slowly collected herself and looked up at the Tyrant. “Hatchling sickness?”

“Indeed.” She followed her gaze and snickered. “Don’t worry, His Lordship and his subjects are all quite aware of it, and many even take pride in it. It is what we [i]apzü[/i] call that mixture of greed, insolence and arrogance that the youngest of the vrool express in their first few centuries. With all the power and agility of youth, they think themselves invincible, and amass great hoards and followings, only to be taken down by older Vrool who outmatch their experience by several centuries. Now that you have been made the richest of your kind, you shall forever live in luxury, but know that you cannot let yourself fall asleep on your laurels. As a wealthy woman, you must secure yourself against those who seek to overthrow you, and surround yourself with your most loyal subjects. Your [i]zü’ik[/i] will become legendary, perhaps so legendary that you will form your very own tribe or even collection of tribes - capable of standing against the Vespian tide from the West.” She cupped her chin in her hand. “Until then, though, take care and be on the lookout.” With that, she skipped off the edge of the altar and dove into the abyss. The Tyrant of Gexou, Raangarmodrul, glared at her for a minute longer, rumbling something under his beard of tendrils, before he, too, descended into the ocean again.

Ngosa struggled to calm her breath. Before her laid enough wealth to live for a hundred generations, and it was all hers. Footsteps approached from behind, and she looked up to see the Grand Acolyte Kwosé stare at her with wide, milky eyes. She swallowed, shifting between the pearls, Ngosa and the ocean, and then offered her hands in surrender.

“Honoured One, favoured by the Tyrant - what will you have us do?”

Ngosa looked around and saw all the other acolyte copy the gesture. She stole a minute to collect her thoughts, but realised she would need days to completely absorb everything that had happened. For now, she took a handful of pearls from the top sack and handed it to the Grand Acolyte, who whimpered with joy upon seeing them. “For now, help me carry this back to my village.”

[hider=Summary!]
The post opens with an Animal Planet coverage of the Night Elf hunting giant hedgehogs on Neverday Island. After some shenanigans, she gets the kill. We then cut to the nelf carrying the prey home. She encounters a vespian on the way and hides - turns out vespians on Neverday are pretty frightening and don’t have the best of relationships with the nelves. We then cut to the Nelf, whose name is Ngosa and her entry into her home, a bunch of tunnels under a mushroom tree. There, she meets Gyatso, part of her [i]zü’ik[/i], a very loose and ever-changing family of friends and lovers that shifts eternally. Ngosa reveals to him that during her hunt, she found a huge piece of amber. They immediately agree that this must be kept hidden from everyone so it can be delivered to “the Master”. They’re almost caught as Gyatso’s former [i]zü’ik[/i] (i.e. a former flame), Zilandra, comes over to bug them. They shove her off and Ngosa goes to present her find to her closest friend and lover, Trung, and her son Ngung. After they encourage her to go, she hurried atop the mushroom under which they live and, after almost getting caught again, mounts an owlix named Ngie who lives on top of the mushroom, who reluctantly takes her to the sea. 

However, now dawn is approaching, so when they get to the beach, and an altar of coral and shells built upon it, Ngie leaves and leaves Ngosa alone. She tries to summon the Master from the sea, but cannot seem to find a way to call it. She recalls that the acolytes usually overseeing the altar during offerings use a special horn to summon the Vrool, but they of course keep it in their village (and her tribe and the Altarkeeper tribe aren’t the best of friends). Frustrated, she punches the altar, forgetting briefly that it’s made of knifelike coral. She squeals, attracting guards. They chase her around the coral plateau, Ngosa cutting herself all over and getting sunburned while their protective gear keeps them safe. She eventually reaches the edge of the plateau and the two guards toss her over the side to be turned into vrool food. As she splashes against the water, the amber falls out of her pocket and catches the attention of the Tyrant’s consort, Vydianuxurl, who picks her out of the water and, with the help of the translator Kanani Tama’Kai o'te'Akau-Raki, congratulates Ngosa on being so devoted to her duty to the Tyrant. The Vrool through Kanani orders the guards and now gathered crowd who had come to witness the spectacle to take Ngosa in and treat her wounds as though she was royalty under pain of death, and they do. 

The next evening, she is woken up and taken to the beach, where the Tyrant himself, Raangarmodrul, has come to reward her for her loyalty. He gives her more pearls than she could ever give away, because as it turns out, the Tyrant has a lot of pearls, but a clump of amber like the one she found only appears every 1000 years. Then they leave and Ngosa is made the wealthiest woman on the island.
[/hider]