[centre][h3][colour=goldenrod]Chakravarti - The Matripatrihierarch[/colour][/h3][/centre]

For weeks, a family of three had dragged bloody feet and a broken sled across the vast, lifeless wastes of fire. There had been nothing for them anywhere but bones and ruins. They had been seven once - uncle Rusi; aunt Ratepor; their son, cousin Sharusi; and mother Danui - all had perished along the way. Now, only father Kiper, daughter Zui and youngest son Doile, who was much too young for such evil as this world, were all that were left. A mere week had passed since their last death, Sharusi. Sharusi had been like Kiper’s second son and Zui’s friend since birth. They had shared all in life, and death was better for him, Zui believed, for there was nothing to share anymore now. Endlessly, they trekked - over ash, stone and sand, the barren land crackling distantly in response to the rumble of their bellies and a vicious wind reminding them all too often of how dry their throats were. 

A weak cough sounded from Kiper’s breast - Doile rested against it in a cradle of linen tied around his father’s torso. The man caressed his pale son’s thin, black hair and said to his daughter, “We will need to find shelter. Doi-Doi, he…” The strict, cold demeanour bred into him by his own father seemed to crack under emotional pressure. Losing his brother Rusi had broken his spirit; losing Danui had broken his heart; losing his own child would break his mind. “... He cannot go on like this.”

Zui, who was a few paces ahead, turned around and hurried over to her father, carefully inspecting her brother. The young boy’s face was dry and hollow, his growth stunted from months of hunger. Kiper massaged the boy’s cheek softly, but received little response beyond a weak twitch of the eye. “... My boy, you’re… You’re so cold…”

The daughter pressed a fist against her lips. With a lightning twist of the neck, she regarded the horizon. A single peak no taller than a tree stuck out of the ground a distance away. It looked as barren as anywhere, but perhaps…

“Father,” she said and unhooked her cloak from her neck. She tossed it around his shoulders, making sure to tuck as much of the furred part as she could around her little brother. “Do you see that stone over there? It may have the shelter we need for the night.” She hurried over to the sled her father had pulled, which was hardly anything more than two long tusks tied together with her father’s cloak. It held very little now, but it held at least a spear, which Zui took in her hands with a deft grip. “Wait here. I will go make sure it’s safe.”

“B-but you’ll be cold, Zoo!”

“That will be the least of our worries if we cannot get Doi-Doi some shelter from this wind!” She assumed a jog for a few paces and then turned and said, “Wait for me here, okay? Do not go anywhere!” As she ran on, Kiper swallowed a speechless gulp. He looked the way they had come - nothing; he looked the way they were going - nothing. What was hope anymore in conditions like these?

There came another weak cough from his breast and Kiper looked down. The face of his young boy, the last legacy of his beloved wife, had opened his small, black eyes, even if only barely, and beamed for a split second the dumbfounded, confused look he had had when his sister-in-law had presented him to him after birth; the same look Zui had had many years earlier.

Ah… Of course. He was his hope; she was his hope. What fool would ask what there was to hope for, to pray for, in this god-forsaken world when he held his hope in his arms - when his hope was out there, scouting for a safe haven?

Stiffly, Kipur sat down and drew a rusty knife from his belt. He opened his left palm, a criss-cross of scars and recent cuts and looked down at his boy again. “... Hmm… I think you’ve done well today, kid… How about the thumb today?” He briefly sucked on the finger to clean it as best he could and, with a slight flinch, sliced open the skin of his left thumb. Thick, dehydrated blood trickled out and he carefully put the finger in his son’s mouth, letting the child drink from his strength. He had had a splitting headache for days now, and he hadn’t known a painless piss for the last two, but at least this would give his boy the strength he needed to live. Kipur’s world blackened faintly and his dry tongue made a feeble attempt to wetten his drier lips, but he needed to persevere.

He needed to survive for their sake…

He needed to…

To...

[hr]

“Father! Father! There’s shelter! There’s shelter - and there’s people! They might have food and water!” 

Zui jogged closer, getting a closer look at the hunched-over form sitting in the ash. She slowed her pace. “Father, are you asleep?” A cold sting in her belly made her quicken her pace again, from jog to sprint as she shouted, “Dad? DAD!” She scraped her knee as she crouched down to shake him, tossing her spear aside. There came no response - she was shaking a corpse, she realised. In quiet shock, her movements slowed, her breathing ragged with sorrow and exhaustion. She said nothing, only placed a hand to his neck and gently careened it back - her father had passed away smiling. 

She could no longer hold in her emotions, but keeping her from bursting into a scream of heartfelt pain was that familiar little cough. The sound stole her breath away and Zui carefully moved her father’s torso to regard her brother. Doile was asleep, it seemed, but alive, a crimson streak following the corner of his mouth down his cheek. The gods or whatever had ruled this universe in those bygone days were gone, but this could be nothing less than a sign. Swallowing her own sorrow, Zui refused to give in to despair. As all light around them faded more and more for every loss, she had her brother and her brother had her. So long as she lived, she would protect him.

She untied the linen from her father’s torso and transferred her brother to her own breast. Securing him there with the cloth, she retrieved what valuables they had left and packed her father’s corpse in the cloak from the sled. As her brother’s coughs warned her that time was running out, she could not set off time to bury him. She would have to return for him some day, when Doile was safe.

And so she ran. The route felt longer this time, the weight of her emotions burdening her steps greatly. Despite this, she persevered, the memories of her family pushing her onwards to protect what remained of it. The peak grew larger and larger as she approached it, but whereas she had kept a scouting distance before, she disregarded that safety now, hurrying over to a small entrance to a cave. She headed inside and felt the smell of fire and the sting of smoke in her eyes. Another familiar scent filled the air, too, or at least one that resembled it, though she hadn’t smelled it for…

“Oh-ho, what do we have here?” came a slithering voice. She froze and spun around, spear at the ready. The slaps of skin on stone echoed all around her, and even in the darkness of the cave, she figured quickly that she was surrounded. The voice was male, rough and raspy with dry winds and dark trauma. “Wow, someone bring a light, I think we’ve stumbled upon a little doe.”

Zui feigned bravery. “I… I’m looking for somewhere to stay the night.”

“My, I’m sure you am, young lady.” An invisible hand touched her hair and Zui jumped, spinning around and sticking forth her spear. The hands twisted it out of her hands and another pair grabbed her arms into a lock. 

“Hoo-eey! A feisty one! Where’s that damn light already?!” As Zui struggled, an approaching torch lighted up the silhouettes of no fewer than five skinny, raggedy men, their eyes oogling her illuminated form with lustful hunger. “Bloody me, she ain’t half bad, either.” As their eyes fixed on the linen on her chest, however, one of the men furrowed his brow and walked over, pulling the linen aside to regard the face of Doile. His expression changed to a small frown and he locked eyes with Zui.

“This one yours?”

Zui struggled some more against her captor’s grip, but succeeded no more than last time. “N-no! It’s… It’s my brother.”

“Brother?” The man looked at the boy again. “... How sweet. Big sister against the world, pulling her brother in tow. Ain’t that just like the old tales?” Some of his companions rumbled a weak chuckle. The man, who seemed to have the command in the crew, shrugged and pulled a dagger. “Well, guess we’re having baby boy tonight, lads!” 

“NO!” screamed Zui. The man’s hand stopped mid-strike, the dagger’s tip a mere inch from Doile’s chest. He looked at her expectantly.

“Why not? Ain’t everyday you get fresh meat on the door - especially not the young and juicy kind. We were just about to run out, too - last of it’s on the fire now, if you’d like a piece.” Thoughtfully, he twisted his dagger in his hand.

Zui swallowed. “I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want me to. So long as you spare my brother.”

“Pfft, like we weren’t gonna--”

“Rasul, please,” said the leader and held up a hand. He eyes turned back to Zui and his lips curled into a grin. “Whatever we want, you say?”

Zui felt tears collect in her eyes and run down her cheeks as a cruel metaphor for her wish to escape. She nodded wordlessly, suppressing a sob. The man’s grin darkened into a smirk and he sheathed his dagger. “Well, to be fair, your brother wouldn’t be anything but bones, anyway. Waste of good fuel for the fire if you ask me.” He beckoned one of his friends over with a movement of the head, and the man in question approached and took Doile off Zui’s chest.

“No, NO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“Sheesh, woman - relaaax! I heard he has a cough, so Hisor here is just going to place him by the fire to keep him nice and warm. As for you…” A rough, scarred hand cupped her chin in a small, but authoritative grip and moved her head around in small circles. “... You have a promise to keep.”

Zui could no longer suppress her terror and release a small sob.

[hr]

In the desert, the cloaks covering the corpse of Kipur feebly resisted the tug of the wind. They had been tucked well around him, but alas, not even familial love could fight the god-forsaken forces of the Apocalypse. It was then that a foot pressed into the sand by the corpse. It was human, yet no human had ever grown to such a size. The foot was colossal, and was outlined by a very faint golden glow. Slowly, a pair of hands lowered down to gently pull aside the part of the cloak covering Kipur’s face. The corpse, despite all laws of life and death, still smiled with all its fatherly glow. A moment passed and a pale tear dripped onto the cloak over the belly, smelling faintly of lilac and lavender.

[colour=goldenrod]”Even after weeks of hunger and days of thirst, he pulled and carried the brunt of the supplies so his daughter could save her strength; even at the end of his day, he gave his own blood so his son may live. What exemplary parentage.”[/colour] The arms were joined by another pair, and together they lifted the corpse from the sand and held it carefully. A mass of hair longer than the back it was flowing down shifted as the head it was rooted to regarded the distant rock. A voice that was not quite male and not quite female filled with respect and reverence for the corpse, saying, [colour=goldenrod]”In your hour of death, you gave your all; so, too, must I give mine to honour a memory such as yours.”[/colour]

Then the golden feet moved towards the peak.

[hr]

“Sheesh, can you believe she said she was a virgin? Never had a looser broad in my life!” Rasul shouted angrily as he picked his teeth with a bone.

“You were fifth in line, man - blame Orus for being so rough to begin with,” snickered Hisor. Rasul tossed the bone at him, inciting a much louder cackle.

“I’m always last! It’s not fair! Last when we eat; last when we fuck - when am I gonna get respect around here, huh?”

“Well, when you’ve earned it, bitch! Hah!”

As the two men were about to engage in a brawl, the leader Jirsa played with his dagger by the sleeping Doile. “Boys, don’t go fighting now. You’ll wake the kid.”

Rasul pushed Hisor away and spat. “Pfft, like I care! If it starts crying, I’ll just stab it on the spit. I’m hungry anyway.”

“If you didn’t spend all your time whining and itching to fight, you’d save your energy, numbnuts!” cackled Hisor again.

“I swear, one more word and--”

“Boys!” Jirsa looked back down at Doile and pursed his lips. “... I wonder what your story is, little one… What you’ve seen… Where your parents are…”

“Gods, man, you fuck his sister and start wondering about that shit now? I knew you were messed up, but…”

“What can I say?” shrugged the leader and sheathed his knife again. “I’m a poetic soul. I need these moments to collect and order my thoughts… How else--”

The three of them quieted down. The slap of feet against the stone hurried in a jog from the cave entrance. It was Orus, pointing to the entrance and shouting in a whisper, “Something’s coming!”

“More food, I hope!” Rasul shouted giddily.

“No, no, something BIG!”

The three in the cave leaned in and frowned. “Big how, exactly?” asked Jirsa, but ask he finished his sentence, an arrow of light speared Orus straight through the belly and brough him to the ground gasping.

“HOLY SHIT!” screamed Rasul as a shadow filled the corner of the cave leading to the entrance. A faint glint of steel hinted at an incoming blade, and neither Rasul nor Hisor saw it in time before the former lost his head and the latter, his torso. Jirsa squealed his best before a lance of stone pinned him to the wall through the chest. A creaky door opened in the corner of the cave, revealing the fifth member, Truum, with his pants on his ankles and a shiv in his hand. He barely had time to see what killed him before it did, pinning him to the ceiling in a horrific display. 

The creature sniffed the air once and followed a scent of blood into the room Truum had come out from. There, they found a pile of raggedy clothes atop a “mattress” of ash and sand, topped again with a brutally beaten girl. The creature could not enter the room due to their size, but they reached in a hand to touch the body. The cold confirmed a horrible truth - she was no longer in this world. The creature swallowed painfully and used two hands to collect her corpse as well.

Then they heard a cough, yellow eyes fixating on the little roll of linen by the fire. The last living human in this cave was of the same blood as both the corpses they had collected, and they pieced the story together: [colour=goldenrod]”What sacrifice to give both body and mind for one’s brother, to surrender oneself knowing only pain and terror awaits, so that one’s kin may live. What virtue, what spirit.”[/colour] The creature’s final two hands collected the little baby and they headed outside again. There, they regarded what they had found, eyes shifting between the corpses and the baby. [colour=goldenrod]”Trust me, young man, their memory will not be forgotten.”[/colour] They brought a thumb to their lips and bit the skin open, golden ichor pouring forth. With their bleeding thumb, the creature drew a golden arc across the baby’s forehead and spoke, [colour=goldenrod]”From this day, my child, I adopt you and your house as my own. Your sacred lineage is the lineage of Chakravarti, and your clan shall be elevated all as one to the height of my own blood.”[/colour] 

The ichor seeped into the baby’s forehead, and then he coughed no more. Small, black eyes opened to regard the round and square face of the god, blinking curiously. Then Chakravarti turned back to the cave and raised one hand. The earth quaked and the stone exploded within a contained sphere, sand being tossed around in a bubble of storms. Around them, the wind fainted into nothing, and momentarily there was light like the days of old. The bubble dug itself into the top layer of the earth and turned to golden sand, and the golden sand slowly morphed into stones and bricks. Around the god, the ashen earth turned to crimson soil, intermittently spotted with tufts of green grass; even small trees dared rise from the ground, praising the fates for this break in the torturous state of the world. 

The stone and bricks stacked on top of one another in the centre of this oasis in the storm - fountains of lilac water ringed the structure which stabbed the sky like a tower. The brick facades were polished with divine sheen, and the first floor had no entrances beyond a tall, steep stairway leading to a hole in the wall. Chakravarti ascended the stairwell and entered into the room, where two sarcophagi of gold and silver opened themselves at their command. In their palms, the corpses of Kipur and Zui were cleaned and mummified and left in the sarcophagi , which openings were melted until sealed. Chakravarti took some steps back and bowed to each sarcophagus. They then inscribed a message across the wall in an ever-shifting language, saying, [colour=goldenrod]”This house is of my house - the house of Chakravarti. Here lie two of my fondest children: They gave all for those they loved and paid the ultimate price. Pray before their sarcophagi and learn from their memory, for their virtue should be the virtue of all who fight for their own.[/colour] Then they exited the tomb, softly caressing a hand on the door beam as they left. A lilac light filled the room and Chakravarti said, [colour=goldenrod]”Let it be known to all who enter and do not pay my children the respect they deserve: Your days will be numbered, for Chakravarti will know all who spit upon my spawn within my walls.”[/colour]
[centre][img]https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/010/753/846/large/amir-zand-tombfinder.jpg?1526043932[/img][/centre]
As they descended from the tomb and exited the small oasis in the endless dust storms, Chakravarti cradled the little boy in their hands. [colour=goldenrod]”Now that you are mine,”[/colour] they said, [colour=goldenrod]”You will need a name - a name worthy of my house. Do you have one already?”[/colour] The baby cooed curiously. Chakravarti frowned. [colour=goldenrod]”Doile? Well, it is cute, certainly, but my house must inspire awe and respect. Hmm…”[/colour] One of eight hands curiously cupped their chin. [colour=goldenrod]”How about Ossurman? The First? Of House [i]vur[/i] Chakravarti?”[/colour]

The baby squealed in confusion. Chakravarti frowned. [colour=goldenrod]”No, of course you don’t get a say! You’re a baby!”[/colour]

And so, the God of Families brought their first child along with them on the journey out into the world, looking for more people to save.

[hider=Summary!]
Story opens with Kipur, Zui and Doile, a family of father, daughter and son respectively on the lookout for shelter in the big desert. They are super tired and Doile is sick, so Zui runs ahead to find shelter for them. Kipur stays behind and feeds Doile some of his own blood to keep him alive, dying of exhaustion. Zui comes back, finds her father dead and mourns, taking Doile with her to the shelter she found. When she arrives, she realises that the shelter has some very nasty people in it, and offers them anything in exchange for her brother’s safety. The brigands spare the brother and have their way with Zui.

Cut to Chakravarti finding Kipur’s corpse, praising his sacrifice for his son. They then go to the cave and kill all the brigands, finding Zui dead, too. They praise her for her sacrifice for her brother. They then adopt the brother as their own and makes them a demigod by infusing them with their ichor. They then raise a tomb to Zui and Kipur, turning the land around it into an oasis in the desert. They then continue on their journey to help folks out.
[/hider]

[hider=MA Summary!]
No MAs spent.
[/hider]