[centre][h3]ZIMA the ZIMMER[/h3] & [h1][sub]Mish-Cheechel the Avenger[/sub][/h1] [img]https://i.imgur.com/LDRtUBd.gif[/img][/centre] [hr] [centre][youtube]https://youtu.be/uck5s156F4I[/youtube] [sub][Listen or skip to 00:53, then start reading][/sub][/centre] [indent][i]I dream of pain I dream of rivers and a bjorkish band I walk in rain I dream revenge as time runs through my hand! I dream of fire These crimes that tie two hearts that just won’t die I near the flames And watch the shadows dance to the growl of a bjork’s desire This fury grows To the groan of a great-dam promise Your river flows (Green Murder!) No riverine dam is sweeter on my tooth than this! My spear-arm turns And fells great flames as only do in dreams This vengeance burns And I know all’s not as it seems I dream of pain I dream of rivers and a bjorkish band I walk in rain And dream revenge as time Runs Through My Hand I dream in pain And wonder if I sink or rise above My heartbeat churns And knows at last: revenge is sweeter on the heart than love revenge is sweeter on the heart than love revenge is sweeter on the heart than love revenge is sweeter on the heart than love[/i][/indent] [centre][sub][Listen until end, or pause, then continue reading.][/sub][/centre] Mish-Cheechel awoke. His breath came calm and quiet and his eyes took in the darkness of night. He coughed - his throat was hoarse - and licked his two great teeth with a dry tongue. He needed water. Slowly, he rose, and his bones and muscles groaned as though he had not moved in an age. The night was dark, but he could see the great figure of Bear not too far off. He swallowed. “Djima.” He managed, running a hand over his face as he ascended to his feet. “Water.” He followed the nearby sound of flowing water and Bear followed after him, and not long after he was lapping from a small rivulet. The cool liquid seemed to tear at his throat and he coughed and sputtered and vomited and snorted water everywhere. He breathed heavily for a good half minute then he shook his head and got up, scratching at his temple and clearing his throat. It was only then that he thought to glance down at his chest. He was quite certain that the weird, hoofed howler had stabbed him right through the chest - in fact, he knew beyond all doubt that he had died. He felt at his chest, looked around suspiciously, then glanced back at Bear. “Am I dead? Are you dead?” Bear only panted, lolled his tongue out, and stared a the manbjork. “Yeah, dead my tail, you’re not dead you mangy bag of fur.” Putting the thoughts aside he stepped up to the saddled bear and lifted himself onto its back. He looked about with growing concern. “Where the sweet icy-frost is Zima?” He tapped Bear with his great tail and the creature started moving off, and Mish-Cheechel launched his gaze now across the rivulet and now into the woods in search of her. He did not see her, but after a time he heard clapping and laughter and urged Bear in the direction. He paused just short of a clearing, in which was a small pond. By the pond hovered what looked to be Zima - but, Mish-Cheechel knew, was not. It shimmered a thousand different colours and seemed to be in some kind of communion with a creature in the pond. Quietly, Mish-Cheechel spurred Bear onward and from his high vantage point atop the great cave bear's back he could see that there was an oddly radiant winged creature in the pond, moving with dazzling motion. For a few seconds his breath caught in his throat. He sat there for some time and watched the strange winged pond-creature and the nishi dance. He did not know how long it went on, but when they stopped dawn was just breaking. The nishi was stirred from its stupor and went floating away, and the fish continued dancing in the tiny pond. Mish-Cheechel descended from Bear’s back then approached and observed the fish, and he wondered how it had gotten there at all. It was not a permanent pond, he could see, but had likely been formed by the heavy rain. Such a fish should not have existed there by any means. As he watched it, however, he felt a great serenity fall upon him. A serenity that was broken when he smelled a bjork on the air and turned towards the stranger. “Ah, what’s dis noew.” The lassiebjork said, clearly surprised. “Didna ekspect to find anyiun ‘ere.” She carried a spear in her hand and quickly circled round to the other side of the pond and glanced down at the fish. “Good day to you, lassie. You come here often?” Mish-Cheechel leaned back on his tail. “Ah cam by yisterday and wouldja believe it, saw dis fish. Well, I didna ave a spear or no’in, but I tol meself I loik it and wanna make soming - real noice like, like ‘at hat dat Phlat mat or soming. So oi wakes up dis mornin real orly loik and grabs Pat’s spear an’ comes a runnin. Now.” She raised the spear and eyed the fish with purpose and focus. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lassie.” Mish-Cheechel grunted, but he had not finished his words before the spear darted with sudden speed and the lassiebjork raised the fish up in victory. Mish-Cheechel frowned and stared at the dead fish, still glistening beautifully and even its death throes oddly soothing and rhythmic. “Why-” he instinctively gnashed his teeth against each other, “why’d you do that?” The lassiebjork glanced up at him and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh you wouldna gets it. Anyway I’m goin now.” She paused. “Or aktshilly, I think maybe I cans work on it ‘ere, lemme see now.” Feeling his anger boiling, Mish-Cheechel turned away from the muttering lassiebjork and left the clearing. He found Bear and mounted him, and they went off. But even as they continued, Mish-Cheechel could not shake off the anger he felt. It was just a fish, and it would probably have died anyway when the pond dried up. And yet he felt a certain bitterness towards the lassiebjork, as though she had offended something higher, something beyond his understanding. He tried to shake the feeling off but it plagued him all day. So much did it plague him that when the sun set at last he found himself back at the clearing, staring at the pond. As darkness settled all around, the nishi came hovering into the clearing. It had no sooner entered, however, before it froze - for there, by the pond, were the fleshy remains of the fish that danced. Its kaleidoscopic scales were gone and the flesh had been hastily discarded - what need had bjorks for flesh, after all? The nishi was frozen there for a long while, although its form looked closer to tears, roiling about itself and struggling to stay afloat. After some time a great whine started to emanate from it, and it approached the dead fish and seemed to weep itself out. Mish-Cheechel watched it vacantly all night, and when dawn broke again the nishi did not float away or even crawl out of the clearing. What remained of it lay sputtering by the fish and Mish-Cheechel knew that it was dead. He realised then, with sudden clarity, that it was not the fact that this was an affront to [i]something higher[/i] that had plagued him all day and was plaguing him even now. Perhaps it was, perhaps it was not - he neither knew nor cared. No, it was the fact that it was an affront to [i]him[/i] that had plagued him all day and plagued him even now. He did not understand that either, but he did not need or want to. He had always been a bjork of action. He moved, then, without much thought. He gathered wood and lit a fire, and he shaped himself a new spear and rolled it slowly over the flames. He rolled it until morn was forgotten and he whispered the gnashing of teeth into it, the gnashing of teeth and rage of vengeance - muttered the cosmic hurt done on goodness and harmony that even now cried out, and wept now, to be righted. When the flame of his fury had grown into an all-consuming forest fire, he rose and allowed his nose to lead him after the lassiebjork. He found her sitting on a small dam, boasting her glistening fish-skin cape to two oohing and aahing lassiebjorks, who had likewise decorated their forms with useless apparel - from the bark of trees they'd plundered, from the otter, mink and river. But Mish-Cheechel had not come today for them, had come only for the one who slew the dance-fish, for the one who slew the nishi. Two lives stolen, two lives he'd reap. He stood staring at the trio from the darkness of the forest, and in time his scent had grown so strong that none could miss it any longer. Curious bjorks approached and stared at the giant anxiously, and the lassiebjork was among them. “O- it’s you. Yer smellin a lil difrent.” She said nervously. “I told you not to kill it.” He cut across her coldly. The lassiebjork swallowed nervously, then glanced at the six other bjorks about her and regained her confidence. “Well, what’s it te yew anehwaey?” She retorted boldly. Mish-Cheechel gnashed his teeth and snarled at her as he took a single step forth, causing all the lassiebjorks to scatter and the menbjork to raise their weapons. “Ohright yew, off widja, off widja ah sae.” The bigger of the three menbjork warned. Mish-Cheechel did not spare them a glance, but only glowered at the lassiebjork before he turned and disappeared into the trees. The bjorkmen whistled with relief and half-laughed to one another. “Wat an eedjit.” The big one chortled, then turned and looked over at Walat. “Wha d’ya dew te mak ‘im so angry, Wal-” he began, but was quickly cut-off when a massive white bear erupted from the forest and snapped his head clean off. The others screeched and rushed for the dam, but the bear ignored them all and beelined for Walat. “No!” She cried out, jumping now left and now right in a desperate attempt to flee the wild thing. But she had nothing to fear from the bear, for it was Mish-Cheechel’s spear that felled her. He leapt from the bear’s back and approached where the whimpering Walat had fallen and placed his hand about the spear. “Ah towl ye- ye shouldna kild eh.” Mish-Cheechel growled with her people's drawl. He pulled the spear from her back and its fire-hardened tip fell, with a terrible crack, through her neck. There was silence then, and he heard muffled cries from the dam. Leaving the spear, he turned and - suddenly weak - stumbled over to the bear and drew himself into the saddle, and then quickly left. The darkness of the trees was welcoming, and the sounds of the forest drowned out the cries that were long out of earshot but not out of mind. [hr] [i]So that is what he is,[/i] Voi thought as he watched the bjork from the trees. Appearing not as bjork or any other sentient but, as a raven. Black as the night and with watchful eyes on Mish-Cheechel. He had been watching him for a while now, flying from tree branch to tree branch and getting a feel on who this bjork was, this one who had brazenly spat and promised, so that all the gods could hear him, his unwavering will to kill a god. And he was a rather curious one; one who happened to be immortal - a clear sign that another god had already given him a blessing for his quest. The first immortal created by… [i]Aethel,[/i] Voi thought unamused. He could sense the tampering with Mish-Cheechel’s soul and Aethel’s mark was all over it. Voi felt a pang of anger over this tampering with Mish-Cheechel’s soul. But despite that flickering flame of anger, he would not change things or tamper. For it was, Voi admitted to himself, a blessing that he might have given Mish-Cheechel himself. Either way, now was the time for talk, so Voi flew before the bjork. Far enough that he could not be seen by Mish-Cheechel but without a doubt in his way. The god disappeared behind a tree and reemerged as an elderly bjork. There he waited patiently for Mish-Cheechel to pass by and see him. When the bear-riding manbjork spotted him, he stopped. He stared blankly - though not coldly - at Voi for a few seconds then greeted him. “Well met, stranger. Bjorks often know better than to stand in the way of a bear, but you don’t seem all too bothered now.” He eyed Voi and looked back into the trees for others. When none emerged, he raised an eyebrow. “Alone on the road?” “Yes, yes I am. And you seem to have that bear under control.” Voi walked slowly towards Mish-Cheechel before stopping right next to him. He looked up at the manbjork with a piercing glare, “I am actually here for a reason, that reason being you. I wish to talk to you about your quest and the Green Murder.” Their eyes bored into each other’s once the words were said and silence hung between them for a while. At last, however, Mish-Cheechel broke the staring contest and, bringing his left foot over the saddle, dropped from the bear’s back and walked over to a nearby log and sat down. “Speak then, and while you’re at it tell me your name.” “Call me Anam,” Voi walked over and sat on the other end of the log. Turning his head towards Mish-Cheechel, “I have heard of your call for vengeance against the one called the Green Murder. A god… though I do not know a god that goes by that name or title.” Voi briefly looked away and chose his next words with care. “I wish to learn more about this matter and you as well.” Voi looked back at Mish-Cheechel and stared him square in the eyes. “That is if you wish to speak of this.” Mish-Cheechel leaned back with a frown, his eyes narrowing. “Has word spread then? Well, it’s good that it should, any bjork worth his honour should rage against this crime. It’s not a crime against me or my family or Clan Rod, it’s a crime against all who call themselves bjorks - the eagle god didn’t care what clan we were, it was the bjorkish way that drew its wrath. So long as the eagle god abides, all bjorks are duty-bound to destroy it. Blood must be paid for in blood, the taking of life with the taking of life, the finger with the finger, the eye with the eye, the tooth with the tooth - equal hurt and equal fury, equal death and equal mauling till the world returns to balance: equal hurts discharged on villains as those hurts they first committed. But look here, you are an old manbjork Anam - I wouldn’t call on you to join me. Does your clan have none who are young and strong? Does your clan have none whose blood boils at this crime? Does your clan have none who will swim and march against the eagle god with me?” “My clan?” Voi pondered for a moment. “This I imagine would divide my clan, few would support your efforts against this eagle god, most would not attempt this. It is not a small endeavor to try and kill a god. I know what this eagle god did to you and your clan. Though”, Voi paused for a moment before speaking, “I can sense that someone has helped you in a way that I… would not have expected or that I at first approved of.” Voi took the moment to look at Mish-Cheechel’s bear before turning back to the manbjork. “I am unsure what aid I can give since you seem to have gotten some already. Your tamed bear is a rare sight and what I can sense from you…..” Voi then slowly looked ahead, not staring at anything in particular. “You…” Mish-Cheechel stared at him, “you sensed?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion as realisation dawned. “You are of the god clan?” “No, oh no…. I am just a concerned party is all,” Voi said, sounding sincere about it. He took a deep breath before continuing, “just concerned and I think I can offer you something. But,” Voi emphasized the but, part. “It will not be ready for some time. When it is done then I can offer it to you.” Then he turned his gaze on Mish-Cheechel, and it was an ice-cold stare. “As long as you do not break any rules or defile it. If so then consider said gift revoked.” Voi then returned to looking at nothing. “Is that clear?” Mish-Cheechel leaned forward and considered the other manbjork for a few moments. “What rules, oldbjork? And do you think Mish-Cheechel would defile a gift? I’d not dishonour myself so. But sure look: my eye is on my goal and my sight is eagle-keen, I’ll abide by nothing that keeps me from the Green Murder. If that’s good by you then I’ll take whatever aid you offer, but if it doesn’t please you then I’ll waste no more of your time or mine. I’ve no quarrel with you. So there you have it Anam, make of that what you please.” Mish-Cheechel leaned back, reached around until his hand fell on a twig, then brought it to his mouth and slowly tested his teeth’s sharpness on it. “I do not know what you will do, only wonder what could happen with vengeance being a factor. But, I agree that our business has concluded.” Voi got off the log and gazed one last time at Mish-Cheechel before heading on his way. “Whatever happens, just make sure you do not lose yourself fully to vengeance. You might do something you regret or harm one you have a friendship with.” Without another word, Voi departed the scene. Once out of Mish-Cheechel’s eyesight, he turned into a raven and flew as fast as a god could away from the forest. [hr] Mish-Cheechel reclined on the log and glanced over at Bear. “Concerned party my tail, Bear. If that guy wasn’t from the clan of gods I’ll bite my foot off.” The bear raised his head and stared at him, then wandered off without response. Mish-Cheechel bit at the last of the twig, then flicked and spat it away. Getting up, he went off after the bear. “Now where the frozen river is Zima?” As if to answer him, there came a great thunderous crash and a tree fell not too far from the pair. Mish-Cheechel watched as some sort of creature made of ice fell over the tree and lay still for several seconds. It slowly rose and he could make out how damaged it looked. Its left arm was missing and its entire body was cracked. It faced away from them, gaze upon the forest, so Mish-Cheechel followed its gaze. Next thing he knew the icey creature came under the assault of a large black shape and a battle ensued before his eyes! The assailant was a creature so foul - so dark - that when the odor hit them, Bear seemed to shrink. That great dark shape looked like nothing Mish-Cheechel had ever seen before, but the ice… was that not Zima? Whoever it was, it was not faring well. Each blow from the creature of darkness shattered more and more of the ice so that quite soon none of it would remain. And so a choice had to be made. [list][*][hider=Summary]Mish-Cheechel awakens and can't find Zima. He goes searching for her but finds a little rain-made pond. A nishi is dancing by the pond and a dancer-fish within. In the morning the nishi leaves and some lassiebjork comes down and kills the fish to make a cape. Mish-Cheechel gets all vengeful over the whole thing. Anyway, so Voi was watching him and hides out as an old bjork on the road, then chats with Mish when he passes by. Questions him on some things, promises him a gift in the near future, and warns Mish not to get too wound up by this vengeance business or he might hurt those he loves. Then he flies off. At that very moment Zima shows up, and she's in the midst of a (losing?!) battle with some terrible unknown creature. *DRAMATIC CLIFFHANGER MUSIC*[/hider] [*][hider=Spirit] Zima started with 6 spirit [indent]+2 for post =8 spirit[/indent] Mish-Cheechel started with 2 spirit [indent]+2 for post =4 spirit[/indent][/hider][/list]