Okay this is going to take me awhile, be throwing a CS down soon. That is if I'm allowed to of course.
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It had been a somewhat short amount of time since Celestine had modified her realm and things had generally settled down into a general routine and normalized once again. Celestine was once more sitting upon the throne that overlooked The Longhall to keep an eye on the general attitude of any souls that may have been passing through. Since she had the downtime to reflect upon recent meetings she had been in, Celestine took the time to think a bit further back in her time that she had been independent from The Lifeblood. A thought that came to mind was that she hadn’t kept in touch with Cadien. Her first meeting with another god was a pleasant one, and perhaps now would be a good time to catch up now that she had been a bit more active?
Rising from her throne and heading to her visitation chamber Celestine stepped out from her realm and into Antiquity. Extending her divine senses outward she looked around for the portal that would lead to Cadien’s realm. Finding it almost immediately Celestine proceeded to step inside. Once the realm coalesced around her, she took a moment to examine her surroundings before announcing the intent of her visit to Cadien as she had done with Thaa. ”Greetings, Cadien! It has been some time, but I have come to visit with you once more. If you are not occupied with something, would you care to catch up?”
Once her greeting was given, Celestine merely waited to see if Cadien would respond. Hopefully she had been loud enough in her announcement that his divine senses would pick up on it. She didn’t move too far from the portal that would lead back to Antiquity in the event that she would possibly not be a welcome visitor or the possibility that Cadien was out of his realm and doing something else, and she figured that it might be rude of her to go and merely wander into another god’s realm as if it was her own.
As she waited she would take a few moments to examine her surroundings to see if Cadien had made any significant changes to his realm like she had just recently done with hers. While she did this she would rest her right hand upon the pommel of her sword and taking a more relaxed stance than her usual approach. Compared to the naive and freshly born goddess that had wandered into his realm by mistake Celestine seemed to be almost an entirely different person by now.
A number of changes had indeed been made. Where once there had been three islands, there were now dozens, expanding as far as the eye could see. All were inhabited by a plethora of different species, many dressed as warriors, though the armour they wore was as varied as their species.
Celestine? Cadien asked. Ah! Come on in. I am in my castle, as usual.
Celestine gave a nod to Cadien’s voice and walked briskly up towards his castle. As she approached the main gate she took a moment to admire the craftsmanship that went into the castle. Her own freshly renovated castle was a sight to behold, but there were fine details that only the god of perfection would think to implement. Pulling her attention away from the stonework Celestine would return her attention to the original goal that she had come to the realm for.
Entering into the throne room, Celestine would approach Cadien with a gentle smile upon her face before taking a moment to curtsey out of politeness. When she stood up she would rest her right hand upon the pommel of her sword again before speaking. “Greetings Lord Cadien. How have you been? I took notice of many new islands floating about your realm. Are you in the middle of a project or is that simply the natural expansion of things?”
When she finished speaking Celestine would take a moment to glance about the throne room and see if there were any new additions to the interior as well as the exterior, though her gaze didn’t wander far from Cadien himself as she didn’t want to be too impolite by paying more attention to the surrounding area than the conversation at hand.
The throne room was unchanged. Cadien himself was seated on his marble throne, a dark-haired Neiyari standing by his side. “If you’ll recall our past conversation,” Cadien said, “I mentioned reaching out to the God of Death. I have done so, and he has agreed to give me the souls of fallen warriors who share my ideals. I have expanded my realm in order to house them. Now, what about you? How have you been?”
Celestine gave a few nods at what Cadien had said before replying in kind. ”Ah. I do remember. I’ve reached out to them myself a bit, and have the same kind of bargain myself. I expanded my realm just recently to accommodate a project that I’m working on. Overall I’ve been well, thank you for asking. How have you been doing? Are your projects going well? Do you have something that you think you need assistance with or input on? I’ve learned the value of having an alternative viewpoint to something recently and can offer my thoughts if they’re needed.”
“You made a bargain with him as well?” Cadien asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was never informed of this. What were the terms?”
Celestine gave a nod at Cadien’s observation before elaborating upon the conversation that took place some time ago. ”Yes. They said that the terms should be roughly equal to the terms that you have also laid out in the bargain that you made. At the time of my visit they did not mention you by name but did mention that another deal had been made. So the souls that we have bargained over have three destinations to choose from. Though I have had another clause added to my bargain. Those who I dub with the title of ‘Ser’ will be guided to my realm exclusively when the time comes for them to pass onto the afterlife. Does this amount of information satisfy you, Cadien?”
“Is it only those who bear that title that get taken?” Cadien asked.
Celestine would shake her head briefly. “Not exclusively. As I was informed when the souls pass onto the afterlife they are given a choice of which realm to go to and so some come to mine out of choice rather than direct guidance. The title of ‘Ser’ serves as a sort of beacon for them to come to mine, as I understand it. It is possible for them to be taken, but as part of the bargain I have been charged with rectifying such a theft personally and not bothering Thaa over such a thing.”
“Hm. It is still rather rude that I was not informed of this sooner…” Cadien said. “But, I digress. It seems our realms now fulfill a similar purpose. Not necessarily a bad thing. Hm…” the God stroked his chin thoughtfully. “What sort of afterlife awaits those who are taken to your realm?”
Celestine gave an apologetic nod. Perhaps it had been her duty to inform him of such a bargain being made, and if it had been she had seemingly neglected it. An unfortunate circumstance but one that could not be corrected by now. Speaking once again, Celestine addressed that thought before too much time passed. ”It may have been possible that it was my duty to inform you of such a bargain being made. I had presumed that Thaa would be the one to update others involved in such a bargain when new parties made a similar contract. Thus, if that is the case, you have my apologies for neglecting such a duty until now.”
Taking a moment to pause, Celestine would continue and answer the other question that Cadien had posed. ”What awaits in my realm is a grand feast that never ceases, and then tournaments for those who wish to battle even until the hereafter. I also permit sparring and training as visitors wish, and so generally speaking my realm is a place to enjoy martial prowess to its fullest.”
“Hm. I intend much the same, myself,” Cadien said. “In fact I have already implemented such features. Which makes it seem odd, that mortals must choose between the two when the primary difference lies only in which god owns the realm. Two friends could fall on the same battlefield. One could go to your realm, while the other could go to mine. It might be somewhat disheartening, when they realize they are apart from one another. Hm.” He inclined his head slightly. “How would you feel about a connection that allows travel between our realms?”
Celestine gave a nod to this suggestion before speaking. ”I would not mind it, since the concern that you raise is valid. I could create a passage here and you could create a passage in my realm? Then the construction of each passage will provide a fair indicator of which realm it will lead a soul to?”
“Perhaps,” Cadien nodded. “Mayhaps it could also lead to some interesting competition. If the warriors of my realm were to compete with the warriors of your realm. We could stage tournaments, duels, perhaps even battles. I’ve had few opportunities to test my own wits and skills against another diety, and even fewer on friendly terms. What say you?”
Celestine would bring a finger to her chin for a few moments before nodding. ”I would not be opposed to such an idea. A competition of friends and allies would certainly be interesting. Perhaps we could both create our own battlefields and alternate between them for each tournament?”
“Yes,” Cadien nodded. “That would be interesting. I suppose we could even create rewards or incentives for those who distinguish themselves, too.”
Celestine would nod a few more times before speaking. ”This would likely be a good incentive, but what rewards would you argue to give? Recognition for performance would likely only go so far.”
“It is a challenging dilemma,” Cadien agreed. “What rewards can appeal to those who are already dead, who already live in a paradise, and will continue to do so in perpetuity? Hm. Places of honour at feasts, perhaps? Ranks or titles? It’s hard to say.”
Celestine would bring a finger to her chin once more as she briefly bowed her head in thought. A risky idea came to mind, but it would serve as something that was a worthwhile cause to offer to a soul with nothing else to gain. ”It would likely require us to speak with Thaa for a bit, but perhaps it would be a worthwhile idea to promise the greatest victor the chance at reincarnation? Tis the only thing that I could think of that would be tempting to a soul with naught else to want for.”
Cadien did not get the chance to immediately reply. An uncharacteristic rumble echoed through the back and side of his throne room, seemingly emanating from one of the many decorated doors in his luxurious manse. Without further warning, it flew open to reveal the slender warm red arm that had forced it open. Into his realm strode a red-skinned horned woman, dressed in luxurious clothes that seemed to be distinctly crafted to accentuate her silhouette. The blood red glow where her eyes should be twisted with her head to settle on Cadien upon his throne, and briefly; Celestine.
Behind her followed two likewise horned and tailed women who appeared vaguely identical, though their skin were pale and blue respectively. Their eyes glowed with gold and white, and they lifted grand copper horns as they came to a standstill behind their comrade. Blowing the horns, they played a simple but bombastic tune as the red-skinned creature dipped into a deep and extravagant bow. With grand words, she spoke. “Alas, too short was our past visitation. Now our Queen languishes for the embrace of her one and only. A tale as old as time itself, a lover seeks her match to have and hold in trial and tribulation.”
The horned woman fell silent, and slowly righted herself. Silence followed.
When the group of newcomers arrived, Celestine’s resting hand gripped the pommel of her sword briefly before relaxing. Thankfully she didn’t otherwise display too many signs of her surprise at their sudden appearance. Turning herself slightly to face a sort of middle ground between the trio of newcomers and Cadien Celestine returned the bow out of pure instinct and deeply rooted courtly manners. Listening to the announcement that the seeming leader of the group made she couldn’t help but wonder who it might be. It was then that the thought struck that these were likely handmaidens of Neiya. When that revelation was made, the rest fell into place easily: When they had first met and Cadien was giving her an overview of the others, he had expressed on at least one occasion that he loved Neiya dearly, so it was only natural that Neiya would be present within his realm on at least a semi-regular basis.
Giving a nod at the announcement to acknowledge it, Celestine refrained from speaking in order to not disturb the arrival of Neiya. Though she did note that Neiya seemed to be delaying her arrival a bit and had possibly left her handmaidens in a slightly awkward situation as they announced her arrival long before she would actually arrive. Perhaps something spontaneous had come up and needed addressing? Or was it possible that Neiya simply enjoyed building suspense before revealing herself?
Celestine resigned herself to not ask such a dangerous question.
Only moments later, Celestine’s theory received it’s answer, as a fourth shape emerged from the open archway. Just above the ground hovered a pale young woman with hair the color of platinum and icy blue eyes, and long blue markings running beneath her eyes. Black horns sprouted from her head and shoulders in an almost crown-like and regal manner, a distinct contrast to the shackle clasped around her throat. Naked feet dangled precariously only inches from the opulent flooring in Meliorem, and the horned lady drifted forwards as the trio of heralds skirted out of the way and closed the door behind her. Her eyes found Cadien first, and moments later the icy gaze found Celestine instead. Her brows furrowed, and a thin frown formed on her features. She appeared as though she was going to speak, when her red-skinned herald returned with a poorly-timed skip forward, gesturing lavishly towards the goddess. “Behold! Our glorious Queen, Neiya!”
Cadien rose to his feet, while the Neiyari who had stood silent and impassive all this time dropped to one knee. The God of Perfection approached the Goddess of Love. “Neiya,” he smiled warmly. “It is good to see you.” He gestured to Celestine. “This is Celestine, a new goddess who only came into being recently.” Then he looked back to Neiya. “How are you? Is everything alright?”
The horned goddess' gaze slowly drew away from Celestine at Cadien's attempt to draw her attention to other matters. When she finally focused on him, it was with a brief and theatrically hurt look, and she sighed with a familiar, forlorn bitterness. "I had a mind to visit with my beloved, though I know no longer if I'm wanted. Celestine?" She questioned with another exhalation, though extended an arm to drape onto his shoulder affectionately. Her horned herald clutched at her own heart and sighed in an attempt to match the forlorn state, but earned a shove of an elbow from one of her pale companions to snap out of it. "What manner of goddess are you, pray tell?"
Celestine’s vision nearly moved downward to examine the entirety of Neiya’s form before quickly locking itself to Neiya’s face after she realized how little the goddess wore. The clearly out of place interjection of one of the handmaidens was slightly awkward and moderately amusing but Celestine knew better than to comment on it lest she risk provoking the wrath of the people present. The other things that Cadien had mentioned about Neiya made themselves relevant in Celestine’s mind as Cadien seemed to quickly move to defuse a situation that might be brewing when Neiya furrowed her brows and began to frown.
Once their brief exchange was over Celestine grasped at the edges of her cloak like one would a skirt and curtsied to Neiya. Once she stood she would begin to answer the question posed to her. ”Greetings, Queen Neiya. I am Celestine, Goddess of Soldiers. My particular focus is on Knights. I have heard many glowing things from Cadien about you, and it is a pleasure to finally make the acquaintance.”
Celestine would then give Neiya a slight smile, though internally she hoped that her choice to focus on the good things that Cadien had said about her would do to diffuse the seemingly upset attitude that Neiya had briefly begun to gather when she found the goddess present. Having another idea come to mind, she presented an option to resolve the situation before things got too out of hand. ”If my presence disturbs anyone involved, I can certainly take my leave until later? I do not wish to intrude upon the plans of others by being present where I am not wanted.”
Neiya seemed to ignore that final comment from Celestine, and instead let her morose gaze roam the soldier goddess. Her fingertips brushed up against Cadien's cheek briefly in a show of affection, before the goddess hovered forwards towards Celestine instead. That same hand extended towards the new goddess, the back of her hand pointed flat towards the ceiling. Her chin raised to further enforce her regal affectation. "What glowing words resonated with you, Goddess of Soldiers? What did my beloved sing of me?"
Celestine kept her vision locked upon Neiya’s face as she approached. The extended hand proved to be a point of confusion for Celestine. Did Neiya want her to take it? Or perhaps it was merely kept there out of habit? Was she going to repeat the same gesture that she had done with Cadien just now? What would be the lesser offense, to take the hand or to leave it? Choosing what she hoped would be the lesser of the two offenses, Celestine opted to not take the hand and instead began to share what Cadien had said when they first met. ”When he first mentioned your name, he immediately followed it up by saying how dear you were to him. Then he also made the clarification that he found you to be beautiful, witty, and calming.”
Celestine knew that she was lying via omission, but her desire for peace and respect for Cadien led her to set aside one of the aspects of her chivalric code. As she did so, she pondered on how rigid her interpretation of such a code was. Perhaps allowing for some flexibility would be of greater benefit than sticking to so rigid of an interpretation that it caused more harm than good?
In this situation, it certainly seemed to be a wise decision.
Neiya retracted her hand with practiced grace, her eyes following Celestine's lips as she spoke. Soon enough, she touched her own cheek and seemed to light up with a polite, faint hint of a smile. "Oh, my. What a lucky goddess I am, to have such a charming love," she breathed with a considerably less standoffish tone, before drifting backwards in the air to approach Cadien again. She gave him a brief but intense look, bumping into him gently before wrapping an arm over his shoulder. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything formal. I wouldn't want to disrupt anything."
“It is no issue,” Cadien smiled, feeling some level of relief as he wrapped an arm around Neiya in return. “Celestine and I were simply discussing a joint product. The fate of the souls of the warriors who perish on Galbar. It seems we have similar ideas, so it only seemed sensible to discuss the matter further.”
Celestine would nod at the mention of the discussion that she and Cadien had been having before the arrival of Neiya. Thinking back a few moments to recall the idea that she had put forward Celestine would take the time to reiterate what she had said. ”Indeed. As for where we left off, I would make the proposition that perhaps for the supreme victor of the overall tournament have the opportunity for reincarnation. What more could be offered to a soul that wants for nothing than the chance to live again?”
Shifting her stance slightly Celestine would finish her thought after a few moments of silence. ”We would likely have to speak with Thaa about it, since he is the overall manager of souls in the afterlife and may not be so keen to have a soul return to Galbar.”
Neiya seemed indifferent at best, Cadien's explanation quickly glazing her eyes over. By the time Celestine was elaborating, she had already decided to inspect her nails instead. "How perfectly droll, to waste so much effort for so little," she interjected with a simple sigh, still caught up with her own preening. "If I held such, I'd simply offer to fulfill their desire and be done with it. Besides, the Lord of Death is terribly long-winded. Only Yamat talks more than he."
Cadien furrowed his brow. “You speak with Yamat?”
"Hm? Oh," the goddess began, pausing to glance up to Cadien with deep blue eyes. "It's a long time ago now. He accosted me in the… square area. He gave me some advice on how to be tougher. Looking back, I… well, I'm trying to be better now." Apparently finding her own explanation satisfactory, she resumed looking at her nails.
“You could have told me about it, my love,” Cadien said. “I’ve told you before, but Yamat is not to be trusted.” He ran a hand through her hair.
Celestine had begun to move to thank Neiya for her input before Cadien stepped in to address Neiya apparently speaking with Yamat. She remembered that Cadien had held a distinct dislike of Yamat when she had visited previously and so waited to see where the discussion would lead. After it appeared to finish Celestine took a moment to speak again. ”Thank you for your input, Neiya. That is something that I had considered offering, though if the mortal requests reincarnation we would likely have to speak with Thaa about it regardless. I would not want to violate the agreement that had been laid down to attain the souls in the first place by releasing them back to Galbar without Thaa’s permission should he have an unspoken rule about such a thing.”
Celestine quietly hoped that there was no such unspoken rule, as she considered such a thing disgraceful since it often led to someone breaking the rule and incurring an unfair punishment. Thankfully, given her interactions with Thaa in the past and his overall lack of deceitful speech she gave him the benefit of the doubt in this case.
The discussion was interrupted by a light thud against one of Meliorem’s doors, followed by an even lighter thud as whatever struck it fell to the soft carpeted floor. With a puzzled expression, Cadien walked toward the door from which the sound came, and opened it.
On the floor was a rather peculiar and dazed looking bird, that Neiya would recognize as one of her own creations.
“Hm. How ever did that get in there?” Cadien asked confusedly, snapping his fingers. Just like that the bird was restored to health. It chirped happily then took flight, landing on Cadien’s shoulder and chirping again into his ear, before flying once more toward Neiya, who it began to circle excitedly.
Neiya sighed softly, extending her finger slowly to coax the little critter to land on her hand. ”Poor thing, it must have tried to get to us for so long.” Neiya brought the bird closer to her, and watched it with indifferent eyes. ”Do you like birds, Celestine? I imagine my beloved has tortured you only with facts and thoughts since your meeting.”
Celestine would look quickly to the door as a thud emanated from it. The motion caused her hair and cape to flick slightly, but they settled down shortly thereafter. As Cadien inspected the situation to find that it was just a bird that had impacted upon the door Celestine relaxed again and returned to her original orientation as the bird flew over to Neiya.
When the bird landed upon Neiya’s finger Celestine could only assume that it was a creation of hers, though she wasn’t exactly sure as it could simply be the creation of another god that was sent to interact with her. As she was asked for her opinions on birds, Celestine gave a nod and began to speak. ”Birds are pleasant beings, I have a preference for either hawks or eagles personally as they’re dependable for hunting and scouting. But birds are all overall pleasant to be around. Do you have a preferred kind of bird, Neiya? What of you, Cadien?”
“I made a species of birds long, long ago,” Cadien mused. “Well, not me. The essence that eventually became me.” He snapped his fingers again, and one such bird appeared on the table: it was bright and colourful, with its very feathers seeming to sparkle and glow. It squawked and looked about in confusion. “They’re quite common, at least on the Toraan continent. Most mortals call them glowbirds, glimmerbirds, glitterbirds, or some variation of that.”
He beckoned with his hand, and the bird swooped forward to perch on his arm. He looked to Neiya. “Perhaps I could send some to your realm, in return for what you sent to mine.”
"Of course, my love. As many as you want," Neiya cooed in response, busy with gently petting her own bird with a finger. She glanced to Celestine again. "I too enjoy hawks. I do enjoy most predators, though. They know to take their place in the world, wouldn't you agree?"
Celestine would spend a moment thinking before nodding in agreement and speaking to Neiya. ”I would have to say that I agree. They are born with a distinct purpose in life, and are designed to serve that purpose well. I suppose that in a sense they could theoretically be considered perfect since very little is wasted when it comes to their form. They need to fly? They have wings. They need to see? They have good eyes. They need to hear? They have good hearing. They need to hunt? They have talons and a beak. And so on. Everything about them has a purpose and very little is there needlessly.”
Cadien shook his head. “And yet they’re very fragile. If caught on the ground, or by a larger bird, they will not win. They have a role, and they fulfill it well, but they cannot be considered perfect while such a weakness remains. I don’t think there is a single species on Galbar that can be considered perfect, to tell the truth.”
Celestine gave a few nods to what Cadien pointed out before speaking once more. ”Of course. I was thinking too narrowly in my assessment. Thank you for your wisdom. How could they be made perfect, then? I would be interested in hearing how you achieve total perfection in a design.”
“It is both simple yet frustratingly complicated, Cadien said. “You must remove all flaws, while achieving the maximum potential of all possible strengths. Yet one must tread carefully, because new strengths may create new weaknesses, and removing one weakness may expose another." he explained, while Neiya leant in to whisper to the translucent little bird resting in her hand. It fluttered away to hide in the ceiling somewhere.
The love goddess appeared to have lost patience, hovering nearby Cadien as he kept explaining. "A truly perfect perfect species would theoretically be undefeatable, and capable of doing anything. Of course, the world would be a dull and stagnant place if all species were like that, and such a thing would be unattainable without divine aid anyhow. I’m not averse to giving mortals aid from time to time, but I find it’s better to give mortals the tools or encouragement they need to improve themselves on their own.”
Celestine raised a finger to her chin as Cadien explained the difficulties of perfection and gave a few nods of understanding. She took notice that Neiya had begun to float behind Cadien’s shoulder, and thought that perhaps she might desire to say something? Figuring that the best way to give her a chance to speak would be to ask her opinion, Celestine did just that. ”Thank you for your wisdom once again Cadien. Did you have something you wished to add, Neiya?”
Neiya raised her gaze to scrutinize Celestine, vulnerable eyes glittering in the light enough that they seemed to shift to a golden hue for just a moment. She sighed dramatically and drifted forwards, slinging both arms over Cadiens broad shoulders to embrace him from behind and look over his shoulder. "Oh, no. I couldn't. Unlike my beloved, I don't have a head for all this talk of altering mortal limitations, and perfection. I am trying to change for the better, though," she explained with a tut, and leaned her head against Cadiens. "You were a recent creation, no? Have you offered her a taste of mortal delights, my love?" Neiya continued, rapidly changing both topic and focus. Her eyes shone with intent, though kept their raw and emotional look.
Cadien frowned in puzzlement. “We have had maybe two interactions thus far, in both of which we have discussed purely practical matters. Why?”
"Why, we have a duty to educate our kin, don't you think?" the horned goddess mused as naturally as she could, but still managed to sound conspiratorial. She turned to the neiyari guard, who up until now had managed to escape her notice. "You. My child. What is your favorite food?"
That guard was none other than Dakari himself, who seemed put on the spot by the question. “Berries, your holiness,” he said, keeping his head bowed low.
The horned goddess watched him for a few moments, allowing silence to overtake the halls. When she turned her head, her expression was formal and friendly, even though she did not smile. ”That is what we shall have, then. A grand platter of all the worlds’ sweetest and most delightful berries. Oh. What about those bells you made, my love? A sweet wine would be grand, don’t you think?”
Cadien was a bit perturbed by the turn in conversation, but eventually shrugged. “Does that sound agreeable to you?” he asked Celestine. “It would be no trouble for me to summon forth food and drink.”
Celestine raised a finger to her chin momentarily. While she did enjoy the company of other gods, she also had things to manage within her realm… But at the same time this could serve as something that would serve to build bridges of alliance which would undoubtedly be good to have later. Her projects could be put on hold for a bit. Nodding, Celestine vocalized her decision. ”I will happily at least try these things. Though I must say that I cannot test such things too thoroughly as I have projects within my realm that I aim to see finished sooner rather than later given the current affairs upon Galbar.”
Lowering her hand to the pommel of her sword once again, Celestine would wait and see what Cadien and Neiya had in mind.
Cadien snapped his fingers, and an assortment of small bowls with berries and nuts from all across Galbar appeared on Meliorem’s table, along with bottles of ale and wine. “That should suffice, if you only wish for a taste.” He walked toward a bowl of red berries, and picked one up. “These are evening bells. Whoever eats them will be infused with a burst of fiery emotion. They affect everyone differently, and us gods will need to eat at least a few before we notice any difference. If you do eat them, try not to over-indulge.” He popped the berry into his mouth. “Same with the drinks, too, though we gods have a strong resistance to that as well.”
Celestine raised an eyebrow at the assortment of berries and nuts that appeared. Pacing around the table for a few short moments she gave a few nods before listening to Cadien’s explanation for the evening bells. A burst of fiery emotion? Perhaps not ever, then. Celestine did enjoy having all of her emotions thoroughly contained and accounted for. Taking a few more glances at the assortment of nuts she gently plucked one from a bowl. Holding it aloft and studying it for a moment Celestine would extend her hand towards Cadien and ask a simple question. ”Do we have a name for these? They are moderately intriguing due to their shape.”
Little did Celestine know that she was simply holding an almond.
“That’s an almond,” Cadien said. He took the bowl of evening bells in one hand and held it out to her. “You really should try a few. They’re quite delicious, and the effect shouldn’t be too extreme. Unless you were to eat the entire bowl.”
Celestine took a moment to consume the almond she had already picked up. The taste was mundane and earthy. Simple and yet appealing. She might have to see about gathering a stock of them for her Virtus Elves later. As Cadien held aloft the bowl of evening bells and encouraged her to try them Celestine relented. If they were as harmless in small amounts as Cadien insisted they were then perhaps just one wouldn’t be too terrible. Even if it was she could use the negative experience to warn her Virtus of them for when they were sent down to Galbar.
Reaching forward, Celestien took one from the bowl gingerly. Taking a moment to study it she made a few mental notes on their appearance so that she could better identify them on Galbar if needed. Then she finally placed it within her mouth and bit down. The taste of them was quickly forgotten as Celestine’s mind quickly composed an image. She saw thousands of soldiers, each of them wearing armor polished to a gleaming shine. Surrounding them stood hundreds of Death Dragons of various hues and appearances. All of them were looking up towards her, waiting to see what orders she would give.
As quickly as the image came, it went. All that was left of it was a sweet aftertaste within her mouth. Celestine’s eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the danger that such a fruit presented. It would be a long time before she would eat another. Giving a few nods towards Cadien and Neiya, Celestine commented upon her experience. ”Sweet and appealing in taste, and their effect is quite interesting. Though I will say that I find myself reluctant to indulge in them. They feel… Somewhat risky to consume while I am in the middle of seeing a plan to fruition. I would not want my designs to become more than they should be by virtue of being inflated by dreams of glory.”
After that Celestine fell silent once more to continue contemplating upon what she had experienced.
“Hm. How odd. Perhaps you have an unusually low tolerance,” Cadien mused. “But fair enough.” He extended the bowl toward Neiya. “Would you care for one as well, my love?”
Neiya, who had up until this point simply hovered in place to watch, drifted forwards to dip her hand in the bowl and scoop up a good handful. She gingerly pushed one past her lips and gazed fervently at Cadien as she popped it between her teeth. Another bell followed, and she glanced to Celestine instead. "Sometimes a little risk in a safe place can be all you need."
Celestine pondered what Neiya had said. Perhaps taking a slight risk would be a worthwhile experience? But then what if she became dependent upon them for her plans? Or, what if she became a goddess of uncontrolled passion that orchestrated plans so grand and complex that they took far too long to see to completion? Giving her head a shake, Celestine gave her a more firm answer. ”I’m afraid I must once again decline. Perhaps when I want for ideas or am at a loss for where I should direct my efforts I will indulge in them, but I do not have a mind to do so now. I do apologize if this isn’t quite what you wanted to hear, but I do not wish to see that which is nearly completed brought low by my own hubris.”
When she was finished, Celestine pondered for a moment over the way Neiya had looked at her after eating the second evening bell. What plans could she be making? Celestine could only guess, but she buried those thoughts quickly. It would not do to create an imaginary enemy out of someone that was merely curious or contemplative.
The horned goddess exhaled sharply, offering a brief display of muted amusement. "I wasn't offering, Celestine. Just a-... piece of advice. Although…" she offered softly, pressing another evening bell between her lips. "You're welcome to visit me if you ever are, at a loss, as you say. We all need a break, eventually. Except my beloved, of course-" she said, and drifted backwards to place a hand on Cadien's cheek. "He's always keeping an eye on his mortals. More than on me, I fear."
“Are we not having a break right now?” Cadien asked her, turning around to face her. “If you wish for me to visit more often, you need only to say so.” Neiya produced something that could vaguely be called a chuckle, and leaned in to kiss his cheek as her hand slipped away.
Celestine would give a nod to Neiya’s advice, and when she made an interesting offer Celestine took it under consideration. It would be interesting to see how Neiya’s realm looked in comparison to the two realms that she had seen thus far, not counting her own. Watching with only a slight amount of interest as Neiya and Cadien began to seemingly dote upon one another a bit more, Celestine took it as an invitation to perhaps see herself out so that Neiya and Cadien could more thoroughly enjoy one another’s company. Clearing her throat slightly, Celestine would bid her farewells. ”I will likely make good on that offer in time Neiya. Thank you for the invitation. I believe it would be best if I returned to my realm to tend to my plans and ensure that things are integrating smoothly. If I’m not needed then I will bid you both a good day.”
With that Celestine would grip her cape like a skirt and curtsey. When she finished the maneuver she would wait a few moments to see if anything more was to be said before seeing herself out.
Neiya blinked, drawing her gaze away from Cadien to look back to the dutiful armoured goddess. "Oh? As industrious as Cadien, I see. You certainly know how to pick your friends, my love. Perhaps I too must plan a… what was it? Competition? Hm. Do take the almonds at least, Celestine."
Celestine would give a nod at Neiya’s statement before responding with one of her own. ”I have a desire to see this finished before things progress too far upon Galbar. If I fail then I will have failed one of my chosen knights… I do not wish to see that come to pass. If you wish to join us in our plan of making tournaments then please, by all means. If we could get all of the various gods to contribute something then it could be a grand achievement indeed.”
As Neiya mentioned taking the almonds, Celestine would contemplate this for a moment before looking to Cadien and asking. ”Would you mind if I did? They are quite pleasant.”
Cadien ate a second evening bell. “By all means, go ahead,” he nodded, before consuming a third.
Celestine gave another nod before scooping up the bowl of almonds with one swift motion. Bowing her head in thanks she would speak a final time before turning on her heel and heading for her realm. ”You have my thanks. I’ll see the both of you again in time. For now, farewell.”
With that, Celestine departed. Cadien dismissed Dakari as well, and then turned to Neiya. He smirked. “So, whatever shall we do now that it’s just the two of us?” Then he recalled the presence of the Furies. “Or five of us, I suppose.”
Neiya glanced after Celestine, and then turned to gaze at her three handmaiden furies. A moment of thought seemed to have her in perfect stillness, before she broke the silence by pushing another bell into her mouth.
"You girls want to try evening bells? Don't be shy."
Celestine takes a moment to think back on what she’s been doing ever since she left the lifeblood. As she does this, she makes the realization that she hasn’t visited Cadien in a while and decides to take a break from putting together a Death Dragon and Virtus Elf army to go visit.
Paying a visit to Cadien, Celestine notes that he had been just as busy as she had. The two take a moment to chat and end up getting into a discussion on having a tournament in the afterlife for the souls that they each accrued as part of their deal with Thaa. It’s proposed that they perhaps offer reincarnation as the reward for the ultimate victor, but Celestine figures that they’ll have to talk to Thaa himself about it since he might have a grudge against simply letting a soul go back to Galbar.
This discussion is put on hold by the arrival of Neiya. After causing Celestine to break her Chivalric Code for the first time by lying by omission to cover for some of the less pleasant things Cadien said about Neiya during Celestine’s first visit Neiya joins the discussion and lets slip that she had spoken with Yamat, but assures Cadien that she’s trying to be better. As Cadien and Celestine continue to talk about tournaments Neiya asks Cadien if he had ever introduced Celestine to some of the foodstuffs from Galbar. After briefly quizzing a nearby Neiyari about their favorite food a banquet of fruits and nuts was produced, including evening bells.
Celestine takes a liking to almonds for their unique shape and likes the simple and earthy flavor that they have. After some encouragement she tries a single evening bell. Upon biting down she has a brief moment where she sees herself at the head of an army of Virtus Elves and Death Dragons. Refusing to allow delusions of grandeur to overtake her, she refuses to continue eating them.
The conversation winds down, and Celestine receives an open invitation from Neiya to come visit as she pleases. Celestine takes note that Neiya and Cadien seemed to be paying an increasing amount of personal attention to one another and decides that it might be a signal for her to leave unless she wanted to witness just how affectionate they were for one another. After getting permission to take the bowl of almonds with her, Celestine leaves as Cadien and Neiya enjoy the company of one another.
Nails rapped in a slow, rhythmic melody against the armrest of her throne. Neiya lounged backwards, stewing in her thoughts as a countless host of furies milled about with goods, foodstuff and weaving tools. The reconstruction of her realm had taken a lot more planning than she had thought, and the bliss of spending time with Cadien had only lasted halfway through the project. In truth, she didn't really remember what her realm had looked like. It had never mattered before.
It had taken her much too long to realize that it didn't matter now either. The furies had never seen it in it's old state, nor did she have any connection or nostalgia for anything but her trees ever in their blooming and wilting cycle. Those were returned in greater numbers, and she had ended up creating an almost endless forest of pink trees, dusting the ground with their flowers. The long and wide river returned as well, snaking across plains, hills and mountains with no real rhyme or reason beyond what was aesthetically pleasing. She made sure it would always flow gently and calmly, despite heading uphill several times, and breaking into what would have been river rapids in other places as it came back down. Finally, she created a grand palace for herself and the now sentient furies. In truth it was more like a domed coliseum, a massive recreation of her pavilion - and some borrowed ideas from Antiquity. In the middle was something akin to an open arena, and the sides were a combination of viewing balconies and domiciles - or as close an approximation as she could gather from having seen the decoration of Meliorem.
She wasn't sure what mortals truly required to live, so she'd come up with a clever ploy. While she'd been with Cadien, her three heralds had dutifully examined as much as possible of his estate. Now their observations and wants became the blueprint for all the materials necessary. Furthermore, she'd done her best to create raw materials, challenging her Furies to manage on their own. After she'd observed a few of them covering themselves with the available cloth, she gave everyone luxurious silks much like her heralds. Now, they were all running about, like a nest of ants frantically trying to get everything into order. Neiya stared quietly down into the arena, watching them as she pondered her next move. It wouldn't last long.
"My Queen! Waves of shame swell and wash over me for this offense - to disrupt the Great Lady in her peace." A voice piped up from her right, giving Neiya pause in her thoughts long enough to watch the speaker. It was her herald - the red skinned 'Our Journey is Everlasting', indolent but refreshingly simple. Neiya didn't need to ask, Journey took a simple turn to gesture to her kin, and soon enough a whole procession sidled in. Five more furies walked into her balcony, and between them they forced forward almost a dozen deep blue elves, shielding their eyes and ears to the best of their ability. "These kin appeared from across the way, ill-fated and thin. They tell a grand tale of roaring mountains and burning skies. Of a home long lost."
Neiya watched the elves and immediately recognized them as the mortals she'd taken into her realm before. She'd forgotten all about them until now. A wave of shame shot through her, watching these thin husks of the muscular elves she'd coaxed into her realm once. It took a single wave of her hand to rejuvenate them, and watch their health return. The men were confused, some praised her, but most were decidedly suspicious no matter her obvious divinity. Now all that remained was what to do with them. Why did she have them come here in the first place? Because she was curious? Neiya drew a quiet breath and focused on the distant Galbar. With a lift of her hand, the center of her arena began to ripple and twist, until the ground tore open to reveal the same lumber yard they had once left on the other side.
"You may stay, children of the night. If you wish to leave, your challenge awaits. The way home closes soon." she offered with a crisp voice that seemed to echo across the entire structure. The elves looked at each other briefly, and then more than half of them started running. Two braved the heights of the balconies, trying to cut across the structure and risking injury to climb down. A few others found the way they came, and the stairs towards the center. A wild rush followed, which briefly stalled the chaos of redecorating furies, who stopped to watch. One particularly sneaky furie went so far as to step through the portal. It was over in minutes. The elves who had chosen to leave all ran through the portal, with the last one only barely making it in.
Remaining were four men, squinting down at the arena as the procession resumed. "You have endured a great trial to stay alive, and made a grand choice to remain." Neiya pressed out calmly to address the remaining group. "You will want for nothing, now. Give them a room."
'Journey' - who had busied herself squeezing the bicep of the nearest elf perked up quickly. "My domicile will hold a grand host! Please, this way." With that, the elves vanished with her herald, and the other Furies returned to the chaos below.
The entire ordeal made Neiya feel strange. Guilty. It felt good to fix it, sure, but it mainly reminded her of all the times someone had admonished her. How stubbornly she'd done whatever she wanted. She knew what she had done. These elves weren't the only victims. The list was long. The horned goddess sighed sharply and slumped back in her seat, running a hand to adjust the shackle around her throat. Why did she care? She'd pushed it away for so long. So many ruined lives.
She was a monster. How could she ever change?
The crunch of dirt and sticks followed the two travellers in their journey through the forest, almost as loudly as the younger of the two was talking. "I'm telling you, we should have marked the trees as we passed. Teperia is supposed to be south. I'm sure we--"
"Hey, Estrid?" The bandit cut in with a tired sigh.
"Uh, yes?"
"Can we just be quiet?"
That made the horned girl grimace, and possibly raise her voice even further. "I'm sorry, Ava, maybe you should have taken a map or something from those soldiers you were so keen on robbing anyway. Maybe next time try not to get blood on everything. If you hadn't noticed I'm still basically wearing nothing but a blanket, here, and you insisted we had to leave before I could even get my shawl. In fact..."
Ava sighed and simply trampled onwards under the new deluge of verbal abuse, keeping her eyes on the wilderness ahead. If nothing else, the constant prattling scared animals away. Still, several hours of constant complaining was enough to make anyone crazy. Finally, Ava stopped to interrupt again.
"Look." She began, whipping forward to grip Estrid by the blanket. The girl let out a cry of fright, instantly shrinking together. "I'm doing my best here. I ain't wanna be here any more than you do. It's not like just 'cause you remind me we're lost, lightning's gonna strike and put us on the right--" In that moment, as clouds above seemed to darken and cover what little light they had, and a strange ripple of energy ran along her spine, Ava knew. She lifted her eyes upwards to defy the skies. "Oh, now you're lis-"
A beam of light shot down, striking both of the women with enough presence to silence the forest as far as it cast its light. When it dissipated, the women were gone.
That same beam shot down on the outskirts of the lands where Nallan had once been, frightening several innocent cattle, and leaving behind two very confused travellers.
It didn't take more than two minutes before Estrid was complaining again.
"She's no daughter of mine!" came the yell from the other room, followed by the crying pleads of her mother for calm and reason. Caitlín counted the moments in her head that they'd had this same argument. This time she'd prepared for his drunken anger by barricading the door from her side. Just as she had anticipated, his heavy fist soon slammed against the flimsy wood. "Caitlín! You'll come out--"
"Skallar, please!" came her mother's brief, pointless defence.
"Be quiet, Gwyn! -- come out here this instant if you know what's good for you!"
Caitlín rubbed at her nose and pulled her knees up against her chest where she sat leaning against the wall. Her side still hurt from his last tirade. “Go back to your sheep, old man! It's all you're good for!" she countered as loudly as she could muster. The catharsis of being spiteful was almost immediately replaced with the gnawing knowledge that she was just making it worse.
"You little hussy, I'll f--" Skallar began, the rest of his swearing unintelligible over the hard pounding of his fists on the makeshift barricade. The wooden barrier rattled under his continued assault, already threatening to give way. Caitlín wished herself far away, like she always did. She knew it didn't matter what she said. She'd been blamed for the vices of her mother since her birth, and her dark hair proved it. The fear she used to feel was replaced by a numb helplessness, even as her barricade broke apart and splintered at her side. All she could do was pull tighter into her self-embrace and hope he got bored of screaming.
His firm fingers wrapped around her arm like a biting wolf, ripping her up off the floor to yell in her face. Just then, a loud sigh rushed over her senses, brushing over her ear and through her hair. It felt as though someone embraced her from behind, a closer embrace than her mother had dared give her in years. A motherly voice crooned, drowning out the noise of the world. "You are never alone, Caitlín, daughter of Gwyn and Eòghan. The blessings I sang to him live on in you. Nothing can stop you." the voice claimed, instilling a sense of calm, even as her father… no, Skallar … screamed in her face and battled the failing attempts of her mother to intervene. Was this Naya, were the stories true? The voice confirmed what everyone knew. That thought was enough to make her smirk. Go to hell, Skallar. "Together we are invincible, my love. I'll sing you through these troubles, if you sing for me in the morning." Caitlín didn't even have to do more than think of a response before the voice sang to her, a calming and gentle melody. Sorrowful but confident. Unearthly and beautiful. Entrancing.
When Skallar's hand connected with her cheek, she didn't even feel it. Naya was singing for her. Just for her and no one else.
Neiya sat silent on her throne, trying to think of other ways to add to the world beyond without acting on her own impulses. Her mind fell back on the Luminant, and her recent encounter with the neiyari in Meliorem. She was rather fond of them, but had left their existence entirely in the hands of Aveira. Perhaps that had been a mistake, given she'd sent Aveira away. A mistake she could rectify now. So her mind centered on the spire, the Saints, and the main host of her children. Her war effort. Based on a broken promise in the realms, and a divide that Oraelia now seemed keen on mending. She'd treated the neiyari like toys, miniature soldiers to pass the time. Only now did she truly begin to reflect on how they were immune to neither sorrow nor loss. How her own need for violence had made the spiral of negative emotions worse. It would never go away, but perhaps she could mend it. With a deep, long sigh that echoed down into the hearts of her angelic children, she wished away the bitter sting of loss, the agony of sorrow, and the despair of fear. After a few moments of thought, she repeated the same for the Oraeliari. It was a momentary effort, but it would take the sting out of the maelstrom, and perhaps soothe a few hearts.
Their emotions stilled and washed away on the wind, and almost instantly she felt a brief tranquility. It was enough to almost make her smile. In that haze of peace, she twisted her fingers, and let tendrils extend from her fingertips. She spun the energies into an almost translucent little bird, no larger than her palm. It reflected the pink flowers of her realms trees and the marble of her arena. Another grew from her left hand, and then another circled around her head. Before long, a countless throng of them flew through the skies of her realm, singing a quiet and happy song.
Neiya hesitated briefly, before she sang instructions to a few of them, and they vanished out through her portal to head for Cadien's realm. And Oraelia's. (And Yamat's).
Neiya is big sad as usual. She's trying to be good but she doesn't believe it can be done. Then the Furies show her the elves who have miraculously survived being forgotten by the narrator. She gives them a choice, stay or go home. She gives the ones who stay the same deal as her Furies and then resolves to be a better person.
Ava and Estrid are very lost. After some arguing, Ava invokes irony and Neiya helps them towards Teperia.
Caitlín, the illegitimate daughter of Eòghan, is suffering another day. It turns out she is next in the bloodline, and Neiya comes to her rescue without violence for once.
She then does a big good and takes away sad feelings in the luminant to try and help the angels cope.
Finally she makes cute little birbs and sends them to flirt with people.
Neiya: 5/5
1 MP - opened a portal to Fragrance 1 MP - yeeted two ladies closer to their destination 1 MP - distracting Caitlín from galbarian matters for a while 2 MP - gave Caitlín a title: Musical Vitality II - (Listening to music will slowly rejuvenate this hero. It will not treat wounds, but may hinder pain or allow them to keep going.)
4 DP - Neiya soothed the hearts of each Neiyari and Oraeliari in the Luminant, patching over old mental wounds, bitter hatred and grief. Losses, sorrow and memories of pain persist, but no longer demand control over their lives, and can be remembered without falling into anger, sadness or despair. This only affects what they already felt, not future emotions. 1 DP - Created Lovebirds; these translucent pink and white birds seek out affectionate couples and fly around them being cute. They also instinctively seek out the target of someone's affection - even if they're quite dumb. End 0/0
Oraelia walked through her portal and let out a triumphant squeal as she threw her arms out as if to hug the sun. Her form reverted to that of a golden haired woman with a large, large smile on her lips. It turned her face into a joyous expression. She had succeeded! She had done what she had once thought impossible! Neiya actually listened to her, she broke through and now… Now the world could heal, she and Gibbou could heal, Neiya could heal and the Aiviri could as well! They still needed to come up with a better solution to stop the fighting but for now it was a time of celebration!
Celebration and relaxation! Oraelia dove into the closest field of flowers and closed her eyes, remembering the experience and power that her judgement had brought her. She would do great things with it, in time, but for now. It was time for some cloud gazing.
Rhiona flew over to her as she lay in that field of flowers, watching the clouds go by. The avatar loomed over her, obscuring her view of the sky but Oraelia didn't mind. Instead, she smiled up at her.
"How did things go, my lady?" she asked with hesitance in her voice.
"Oh Rhiona! Things went much better than I expected! I broke through to her and she listened to me and now I think things are going to get better. It's wonderful and I can't wait to tell Gibbou! I should probably go see her right away actually! She seemed so upset when she left. I hope she's better now." Oraelia said with a quickness in her voice, sitting up as soon as her words left her mouth. Rhiona gave her a funny look.
"I am glad to hear that and to see you in such high spirits but um, my lady? Before you go to see your sister perhaps it might be best to deal with… Them?" she pointed past Oraelia, back over to where the portal was.
Oraelia opened her mouth to say something but then followed Rhiona's finger until she saw… Naked women? She took a closer look and realized who they were. Naked Furies! There were about a dozen of them, wide eyed as a wee babs, looking at the world in a new light. Or several new lights, as their eyes glowed different colors. With delicate fingers they touched flowers and grasses and every now and then looked over to Oraelia as if waiting for something.
"Oh." she said and flew over to them, Rhiona close behind. Most stopped what they were doing as they approached and turned their gaze to her, while a few seemed to be too fascinated with a tall sunflower to pay attention.
"Hello little ones!" Oraelia exclaimed. "Welcome to my realm! Uh, but might I ask why you've come?"
A few curious faces lit up and focused on her, and Oraelia felt the sensation of Neiya's blessing as these simple mortals scrutinized the Life Goddess and saw more than other mortals might, she could feel emotion coaxed to the surface to reveal subtle hints. Oraelia was of course almost entirely immune to such paltry things as mortal perception, but it provided a notable tingle that regular mortal sight did not. A few moments of awkward silence later, a pale horned woman - almost as white as snow, with shining golden eyes - decided to speak up when no one else did. "What path shines brighter than that walked by she who shackled the storm?" She produced in a strange, divine language. It sounded vaguely like the roots of human and merelli speech.
Oraelia was taken a back for a moment. Not from the tingling sensation she felt or because her voice was so relaxing, no for a different reason. They were here because… she clasped her hands together and gushed, "Awww, isn't that adorable! You came because of me? Oh, I love you already!" she flew closer to the pale one and inspected her, touching her face, feeling her horns and then pinching her left cheek playfully. "And what should we call you miss? Do you all have names?" she asked in a bubbly voice.
That seemed to catch the attention of a few more, and Oraelia now had the attention of a good dozen pairs of bright eyes. Hesitation ruled the group, and the pale one felt compelled to answer. "I have failed this demand for tribute. No names were brought. Perhaps allowances will be made for those found lacking to retrieve this quarry afore final judgement is made." A few nods shot through the crowd.
A reddish-brown shorter woman among them piped up. "Perhaps if these names are described a journey may be undertaken to locate them whence we came."
Oraelia put a warm smile on her face. She then gave a small chuckle and said, "Oh we have much to teach you, my darlings. Much indeed." she landed upon the ground and stretched her arms. "A name is what we and others, call ourselves. For example, I am known as Oraelia, Goddess of Sunlight. This," she pointed at Rhiona, "Is my avatar, Rhiona. Your names can come about in many ways. You may pick a name for yourself or allow us to do so. Whatever you want I'd be happy to help you."
"Pick a name for myself?" The pale one questioned, and appeared even more hesitant than before. This appeared to be a daunting task for her, and the others were happy to let her suffer the most attention.
Except the reddish one, who now had returned to gazing out over the landscape with hope and fascination in her eyes. "Oh. Mayhaps a suitable name to choose would be 'Endless Field of Flowers'." She commented as though she had just undergone a major epiphany. A wave of oohs and aahs rippled through the crowd of Furies.
"Cresting the Painted Fields!" Another exclaimed from the ranks of the dozen or so, eliciting the same response.
"Lovers Shared Breath!" A third exclaimed, and the crowd twittered with sly looks between themselves and Oraelia.
Oraelia giggled. "What wonderful names! They convey emotion and thought, which is pleasing to the ears. Come come there is much more to see in this realm of mine. A plethora of names await you." she said, grabbing the hands of the pale one and the reddish brown one and leading them all deeper into the realm. A grand tour of sorts, to inspire and amaze. They all followed her, some more willing than others, though all equally wide-eyed at the prospect of seeing a new world reveal itself to them.
They went through fields of golden grasses as tall they, with every manner of animal and bird. Some bigger then them. Then through glades of honeydew and mint with berry bushes to pluck from until the belly was full and the heart content. They walked by ponds of the freshest of waters teeming with fish and drank from the crystal depths to quench their thirst. Then shade covered them as they journeyed through forests old and new, seeing even more life that Rhiona had populated. All the time Oraelia watched with keen eyes, delighting in their faces as they discovered the world around them. Hours later they arrived at Oraelia's large house having seen only a portion of her eternal realm.
Having let go of the two furies from when they first began, Oraelia rested her hands on her hips and beamed a toothy smile at them "Well my dears, what do you think? Have you found your names?" she asked.
They spoke in hurried unison, eager to tell her their chosen names. All were as extravagant and emotional as the first, yet the pale furies' choice stood out; "Garden of Ordained Peace." She watched Oraelia with hesitant eyes even now, and seemed to have a different attitude to the fascinated and starry-eyed dozen around her. Perhaps she had seen something the others had not prior to coming here. Two furies had engaged each other in a now two-hour long debate on the merits of a name with more prose and description, and how to effectively pronounce long names. Oraelia had certainly started something.
"Garden of Ordained Peace." Oraelia whispered under her breath, looking to the pale one. She reminded her most of Neiya but there was a certain hesitance that was not Neiya. She loved the name, she loved all of their names.
She clapped her hands together to get their attention. "All of your names are perfect and beautiful. Cast aside the discussion on which is best and how to pronounce them, my little scholars. Now is the time for a bit of rest and dinner." she said. "Now watch and be still." she continued, raising her hand to her house. In an instant it, and the immediate surroundings vanished, replaced by a grass field. Then from the ground emerged tall pillars of white stone, they grew tall and wide with ornate designs of leons and stags and of flowers and sun. Followed by that was a large roof, adorned with wavy patterns and the visage of Oraelia cupping a seed in one hand and fiery orb in the other. This building grew as the land rose, creating a white staircase and rows and rows of hedges with flat areas for gardens and lounging. Water fountains erupted from the earth with stone work of the same stags and Leon's but eith more detail.
When the land at last settled and trees sprouted, what was before them stood a very large palace of Marble that began to run with lines of liquid gold between the rocks. There was another rumbling and upon a hill over yonder Oraelia's old house appeared, then with a chunk of the land it rose into the sky and stayed there as the land beneath it healed.
Oraelia grinned. "Welcome home, my Furies." she proclaimed.
The chattering chorus of squealing and amazed muttering was almost overpowering. Though the Furies maintained a general air of pride and restraint in their mannerisms, many were unable to contain their glee and abject fascination with each shift of the landscape. This grand estate seemed unlike anything these nascent sentients had ever seen, and it showed. "A grand gesture, a bastion matched in stature only by its builders heart," one of the bluer Furies - Valley of Freedom - intoned emphatically. "A sanctity that must be kept and honored."
Oraelia snapped her fingers and clothes began to cover the furies one by one. Long slender garments of white. Two small straps held them up at their shoulders and were low cut enough to reveal their more feminine features. Colorful flowers began to sprout from laurels that wrapped around their heads, smelling of warm pleasant aromas and sweet nectars. They stood before her, newly clothed and brimming with excitement. ”There, now you are clothed, and not so bare to the world. Within this palace, you will find many rooms for you to occupy and call your own. This is your home now within my realm, and yes, I do expect you to keep it well. But first, I am quite peckish and I am sure you are all hungry as well?” Oraelia began to pace back and forth, setting a finger on her chin. ”Now what should we do about that? Oh, I know!” She turned to them and waved, a gust of wind washing over them.
”You will find that I have taught you a few things. One being how to cook many delicious foods and how to forage for ingredients in the wild. What’s edible and what isn’t and those sorts of things. Some more gifts remain yet hidden, waiting to be unlocked… Now you will find that my realm is bountiful, but know this, that which is taken must be out of necessity and never excess. If one takes excessively, it must be used and not hoarded.” She gave a soft smile. ”Now a little test. Around here you will find what you need to cook a feast. When you have what you need, meet me in the kitchen. You will also find that the palace is known to you, so that you will never get lost. And remember, work together! Now, are there any questions?”
What ensued was a brief silence, followed by a chattering cacophony of questions. Many worried over the exact details of her challenge, but none stood out as particularly difficult to quickly answer with a shake of the head or a smile. A few Furies caught on quick and wasted no time in trying to both soothe the inquisitive nature of their kin, but also motivate the others to cooperate. Eventually a tenuous consensus was reached, and the confused worry adopted by a few taking the word 'test' too closely to heart was soon discarded in favour of following the gaggle of giggling girls.
Soon it seemed there was a pair of Furies around every corner, scouring every inch of the local area in an effort to analyze and take in all they could. Of course, being divine, Oraelia could hear their faint murmurs from quite a distance away - already they were deep into drawing conclusions about different types of flowers and berries based on their appearance and features. They treated it like a sporting challenge, taking to the task of assembling all manner of ingredients with jovial moods and cheery debates, while still holding a good pace. A few times Oraelia caught sight of one of them reminding others not to take too much - it was perhaps no surprise it was the pale Garden of Ordained Peace who worried about excesses.
Oraelia smiled to herself and before long began to walk up the steps to the Palace. Truth be told, she did create the thing but it was still exciting to see up close. She left the Furies in good hands, knowing they would come to her when they were ready (It wasn't like she couldn't hear them and their chatter anyways). So she wandered through the long empty halls, taller then even trees and she looked out long windows to see a wondrous view of golden fields and she sampled the glistening bathrooms, the empty dining halls, the comfy bedrooms and found herself at last within the main kitchen room. A large interior lit well by windows. It was a modest place full of tools that may have been a bit beyond anything on Galbar that she knew of but still retained a feeling of the times. She walked towards the entrance of the room, hearing feet walking up the corridors.
The first of the Furies barreled through the halls with a load full of fruits. Her happy expression froze when she came upon Oraelia, as her body followed suit and locked in place out of respect, reverence, or fear. The small mountain of citrus fruits burst from her precarious grip, and rolled all over the corridor.
"Ack! A great blemish I have inflicted on this domain. Pray forgive me, O' virtue incarnate." She spoke in half-song as her sky blue skin blushed darker, before rushing to pick up her rolling fugitives. Behind her came a flood of Furies, all but a few repeating the pattern of stopping dead in their tracks when they came upon her, but less clumsy with their bounty.
Oraelia gushed, "Oh no my darling, I scared you. Please forgive me! Here, let me help!" The goddess chimed, helping pick up the fruit. "The rest of you can carry on inside and start. Remember, accidents happen and one should always be willing to help make things right, even if they had nothing to do with it."
The blushing furie said nothing but smiled warmly to herself as she collected all of her lost fruits with Oraelia's help. An errant mutter reached her ears, basic envy among the others for getting to spend time with 'Our Lady', but it didn't seem all that malicious as the others quickly made their way further into the palace chatting away. When Oraelia picked up the last round escapee, the blue-horned girl dared to speak again. "Your home is much nicer than our birthplace…"
Oraelia looked upon her with a thoughtful expression. "Not all things are so nice as where we find ourselves eventually. Your… Creator… Mother?" she shook her head. "Do not think terribly of Neiya. Hers is a complicated history full of pain and sorrow. I hope to one day help her truly realize she can be something else then what she was born to be." She smiled at the fury. "I think you and your kind are proof of that. Now come, we mustn't keep the others waiting for too long."
The horned girl nodded twice and - having learned nothing from her previous behavior - rushed down the hall to join the others with the same speed that had culminated in middling catastrophe just before. Naturally, keeping up would never be a match for a deity, but they were capable of considerable bursts of speed. They were certainly spry, almost imbued with a relentless drive to engage in each activity with their full attention and passion.
Soon enough the chattering turned to a clatter and jovial talks as well as traded tips and conclusions on cooking. The talent appeared to come naturally after Oraelia's initial assistance, and now all but a few of them were avidly figuring things out on the fly, and whipping up possible dishes and techniques with mere taste testing. The few Furies that did not manage the same level quickly adopted a supportive role, unselfishly accepting their lack of skill as cooking masters. The recently raised palace soon carried a strong and inviting fragrance of fresh herbs, ripe fruit, and exotic blends of spice. In record time - and with almost no help - the furies whipped up a truly massive feast of all the bounties the realm had been willing to offer. It was immediately evident - and had been during cooking - that unless Oraelia ate for ten, there was way too much food prepared. An excess indeed.
Regardless, the Goddess made no mention of this and instead guided them to dish the food and bring it out to the dining room, where she waited at the head of the table. And so the Furies brought their succulent foods out and arranged them on that long table to the brim. When that was done, Oraelia bid them to sit. "What wonderful work my lovely little doves. I think some important lessons were learned today so before we eat, would anyone like to speak?" she asked in a reassuring voice, eyes falling on Garden of Ordained Peace.
The pale woman seemed immediately weighed down by the implicit attention leveled her way, and fidgeted in place. A few other Furies seemed to realize only now how much food there truly was, and Garden herself glanced at the long table conscientiously. "...Do not collect to excess, do not waste…" she began, lifting a hand to her cheek. Her glowing gaze lifted to behold her comrades, who had begun to shift their own eagerness into frowns as they realized their lack of thoughtfulness. Garden of Ordained Peace widened her eyes and looked towards Oraelia, though did not have the confidence to meet her gaze. "Alas, it is not so that the challenge laid upon us has not been met. In our vigor to please Our Lady much food has been made - all the better to invite more guests."
The Goddess' lips slowly turned into a smile. "An excellent idea! I feared, as I wandered this palace, I made it too large for so few. But… Let this be a lesson and not a punishment for excess. There are many solutions to the problems we face. Never be afraid to let your ideas be known. Now, shall I invite more of your kind to my realm?" she asked.
A long string of oohs and agreement ran through the crowd. The pale Garden seemed to smile to herself in a brief moment of joy, and nodded slowly. Of course, it didn't take long for her reddish-brown comrade from earlier to step in with her own thoughts, blind to the subtler side. "A grand feast for as many as wish to come! Perhaps even the Songstress, our maker, will come to participate!"
Oraelia gave a small nod in turn. "Well, I suppose I can ask her to come but I wouldn't get your hopes up my doves. Now, if you'll excuse me for one moment." she said, getting up from her seat and walking back into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of sight of the Furies, Oraelia became visibly panicked. Could she really ask Neiya? Was it too soon? She let out a small breath and then steadied herself. She couldn't let her Furies down. So she sent her thoughts towards the Goddess of Love.
"Neiya… I've a favor to ask…"
Despite having only spoken with Neiya a few times, there was a noticeable delay that was now becoming standard. She could tie it now to the struggling goddesses' thought process, no doubt going through the same wracking doubt no matter the situation. As expected, a brief sensation was returned, followed by the thoughts of the horned love goddess. "...Oraelia? What's the matter?
There was a lot she wanted to say. Things she probably needed to say but Oraelia's confidence faltered as she felt Neiya’s presence. So she said the first thing that came to mind. "I-I need more Furies!" she blurted then winced at herself.
"..O-Oh.” Neiya replied almost immediately, filling the void with an enigmatic breath before silence took over again. The delay was murder. When her words returned, they were steeled with the cold grace of the frowning goddess. "Of course. I’ll let them know they are welcome in your realm.”
"You are too! I mean, we're throwing a feast and they asked if I could invite you! But I want you to come! But only if you want too!" She slapped herself and took a deep breath. "They're really precious and and… Uh… Thank you for making them, Neiya."
"...Thank you, but there’s someone I have to see. Maybe next time, Oraelia.” came the response, filled with promise and sadness alike. ”I’ll send as many Furies as I can. They deserve a good life.”
"O-" Oraelia started.
No more could be said before one of the furies burst into the kitchen, taking a deep breath before trying to compose herself and appear at least a little graceful before a goddess. “Hark! Cresting the Painted Fields is trying to argue it is a matter of course to begin the feast early given our sizable number. Garden of Ordained Peace mounts a valiant defense of mind and logic, but a ruling is required, O’ Brightest.”
She turned to Treads Before the Dawn, and for a moment her face was blank. She blinked then laughed, "Oh my, well, let's go give a ruling then, yeah?" she said, following after the Fury, mind thinking of Neiya for a moment before the smells of food brought her back to task at hand.
Oh and how she loved them.
Oraelia is celebrating in bliss having gotten through to Neiya. In her celebration, Rhiona asks who the newcomers to her realm are. Oraelia looks and sees about a dozen Furies immersing themselves in her realm. She flies over and welcomes them, asking why they have come and a rather pale Fury that reminds her of Neiya says they are there because of her, basically. They then have a small conversation about names and the Furies and Oraelia go on a tour of her realm and the Furies come to name themselves.
Oraelia then builds them a palace home, clothes them, breaks them into two holy orders and sends them off to do tasks. The piece ends on Oraelia, SMS’ing Neiya and asking her for some more Furies for her realm.
Oraelia 5/5
Holy Order - Caretakers of Paradise.
Formed when a band of Furies followed Oraelia home, this holy order lives in the Sun Goddess’ realm, where they care for the land and protect it. Kawaii maidu-desu
-2MP for the title, Exquisite Gourmet II - There are many ways to show that one cares for another, deepening the bonds of companionship and intimacy through a foundation of love. As such, this Holy Order excels in the craft of cooking and strives to make delicious food stuffs out of ingredients that are edible and fresh. They are capable of taking the most mundane items and spinning them to explode with flavor that’s to die for.
-1MP for the title, Foragers I - This Holy Order is naturally inclined to find their own ingredients for cooking and crafts and can forage to their heart's content, usually finding what they need in just the right amount.
-1MP for the title, Calming Aura I - Members of this order have an aura of calm that envelopes their person and sends good vibes to animals and to a lesser degree, mortals. This aura only works if beings are unprovoked and in a sensible state of mind. The more members that are together, the greater the effect.
-1DP (Healing port) for the title, Healing Hands I - Members of this order also have the ability to manipulate the healing energies of the world through touch, and can mend wounds and injuries. The larger the wound the longer it takes to heal.
Holy Order - Covenant of Deliverance
Also formed when a band of Furies followed Oraelia home, this holy order lives in the Sun Goddess’ realm, where they take pride in law. They are avid authorities on justice and mediators of peace.
-2DP (2 towards Justice port) for the title, Justice Enthusiasts II - The members of this holy order are competent rules lawyers and enjoy engaging in legal debates and problem solving. They are naturals at picking up on details and obscure facts in local laws, and use it to full effect.
-1MP for the title, Scholarly Disposition I - This holy order has minds more attuned with learning and researching through trial and error. They enjoy debating and mediating between different cultures, peoples, and ideologies all in the pursuit of learning.
-2DP (Just Judgement Domain) for the title, Magisters II - Coupled with being Justice Enthusiasts, this holy order is capable of administering and judging those established laws they are so keen on finding. As such they are uniquely qualified, furthering their species' natural disposition for punishments, to be judges those who offend laws and dole out appropriate sentences.
Mekellos stood tapping his foot in Acadia’s central square. A host of soldiers had been assembled behind him, with King Hugon at their head, all equipped and ready for a long march. The Avatar himself wore simple bronze plate, but his height and his unnatural hair colour were more than enough to distinguish himself from the rest. As he waited, one single question lingered on his mind.
“Where is she?”
Almost as if on cue, the city stirred with surprised murmurs and calls for attention. The reason quickly became clear; above the distant treeline to the northwest came a winged figure, with broad and colorful wings beating to bring the shape closer with worryingly quick speed. It wasn't long before Mekellos got a clean look at the tall, horned woman with blue, black and gold wings. She was dressed in what looked like brass plates and black and grey fabrics, and wearing a simple brass circlet with points that made it look like a crown. A moment or two later, a massive wingspan swept through the air near him, whipping up a gust of air and sand as the woman touched down.
“Aveira, is it?” Mekellos asked as he stepped toward the winged figure, as the King of Acadia and his soldiers knelt. “You’ve joined us at last.”
A stern gaze fell on the avatar of Cadien, Aveira's frowning face a disruption of the otherwise inviting form she'd taken. "I had to see to matters beyond the waters. Can't leave a task half-finished." Her gaze fell out over the assembled soldiers as she spoke, and her expression twisted to bemused delight. "You've brought warriors. How delightful. How many of them have seen combat in the past?"
“There are four hundred,” Mekellos revealed. “Half of them have already participated in raids across the river. The other half are untested, but their training is complete, and when the time comes they will stand.”
The winged avatar scanned the assembled faces with a second moment of scrutiny, lingering briefly on King Hugon. "I look forward to seeing their prowess. I may have to extend a reward to the truly skilled." she offered with no apparent predilection for lingering much longer. "That aside, I'll ask you to take the lead. My Mistress has asked me to assist in whatever plan it is Cadien wills."
Mekellos nodded, and gestured for his men to rise. “We march for the docks!” he declared.
At the docks, forty boats awaited. Most of them could carry at least a dozen men, while the rest were laden with supplies and provisions. The men and women of Acadia wasted no time in boarding the small crafts.
“The Acadians launch raids rather frequently,” Mekellos explained to Aveira, as they watched the process unfold. “It’s meant to prevent the Iskrill from getting too secure a presence along the river bank, so the Iskrill cannot launch raids in return. It has been mostly successful, but the Iskrill have larger settlements deeper inland. They craft their boats there, then carry them to the river bank. It takes longer, but it allows them to make the occasional incursion on Acadian soil.”
“I’ve already scouted the river, and sighted a small iskrill encampment. Our aim is to destroy it, then advance inland and eradicate as many iskrill as we can find. Once that is done, the Acadians will lay the ground for a more permanent outpost, to threaten the abominations more directly.”
Aveira rolled her shoulders expectantly and provided a thin smile. Massive wings shimmering in blue, black and gold spread out on each side, and a single powerful beat lifted her feet up off of the ground. "That's fine by me. We'll push as far as your mortals can handle."
They embarked on the journey soon after, and it passed mostly in silence as the disciplined Acadian oarsmen rowed the vessels across. Said silence was only broken up by Mekellos’s occasional attempt at conversation with Aveira. The winged avatar turned out to be a relatively poor conversational partner, responding in short sentences that gave no clear way to continue. The only thing she responded well to was strategy, it seemed.
Finally, the iskrill camp came within sight. There were no more than a few dozen, and upon sight of the Acadian ships they were already beginning to panic. No doubt they would have vanished into the forest by the time the Acadians were actually in a position to disembark.
Without warning, Mekellos vaulted over the edge of his boat and began sprinting across the water as if it was solid ground. Within moments, he was at the camp, a blade materializing in his hand. Behind him, the sound of wings overpowered the sounds of the sea as Aveira lifted into the sky.
Letting out guttural battlecries, the iskrill met Mekellos’s charge; they had no true idea what they were dealing with. With reflexes and strength that only the Avatar of the God of Physical Perfection could attain, he leapt into the air and delivered a spinning kick that didn’t so much as cave in an iskrill’s head as completely disintegrate it. The moment he landed, he lashed out with his blade, cleaving another iskrill in two, and then became a whirlwind. He didn’t even need to block or evade their strikes, for nothing they had could harm him. Within seconds, most of the group had been eviscerated and the rest were fleeing… only to be trampled by a Hunter that came charging at him with a roar.
The avatar stood his ground, and met the charge with a punch that not only halted the creature in its tracks, but pierced its skull and struck deep into its brain. Mekellos grunted in disgust as he pulled his arm free.
Now the iskrill were fleeing en masse, running off in every direction. A few reached the nearby treeline, seeking safety amidst the underbrush. Safety did not last long however, as a scant few came rushing back out. Behind them expanded massive wings, snapping and bending dense woodland and tilting weak trees as they gave way to a colorful display of wings. The Avatar of Neiya emerged some metres above the ground, speaking with a reverberating voice that would not have carried far enough were it not for Mekellos' hearing. It was a simple demand for them to accept their fate. The voice niggled even in his mind, giving a sensation of divine essence. The result to mortal ears became readily apparent as the fleeing iskrill screamed in abject fear, fell to the ground in bleak search for safety, or straight up fell lifeless from shock. Before bodies had hit the ground, Aveira's massive wingspan had already carried her towards the next group of fleeing creatures. Among them as well, catatonic terror was the best they could hope for, it seemed.
The ‘fight’ - more of a massacre, really - ended soon after. Every single iskrill within the camp had been slain. “Well done,” Mekellos nodded in Aveira’s destruction. “Though, that was hardly a true test of our talents. No matter. There are greater fights ahead, I suppose.”
The winged woman turned to regard Mekellos with an appraising eye, releasing the limp being in her hand from her grip, and letting the iskrill fall several meters to the ground. "Mortals will never test our limitations, Cadienson. But they make for an adequate distraction. Is this where you wish your mortals to establish themselves?"
He nodded, before turning to the river. The warriors of Acadia had finally reached the riverbank, and were already disembarking. Some looked disappointed to have missed out on the fight, but most were in awe. “There will be more fights to come,” Mekellos declared. “Bring me the map.”
One of the soldiers complied, bringing a roll of rough parchment. He handed it to the avatar, bowed, and then stepped away. Mekellos unrolled it, and showed it to Aveira. It was a map of the lands west of the river. “There are three settlements nearby,” he told her. “Once they become aware of our presence, they will no doubt attempt to raid whatever outpost we establish, or inform the rest of their kind. I believe we can wipe them all out at once. King Hugon and his men shall advance alone on the closest one, which leaves the two remainders for us to split up and deal with. Which one do you want?”
The question was more a courtesy than anything else. The two remaining markers were roughly the same distance away, and there was nothing to indicate that one would be particularly easy or difficult compared to the other.
Aveira gestured briskly towards the northernmost of the two remaining encampments on the map. "Any particular wishes on method?"
“No survivors.”
King Hugon and his four hundred men marched through the woods.
Marching through woods, in his experience, was always something easier said than done, and this instance was no different. Maintaining an organized formation was almost impossible, due to the need to step around trees and over roots, and attempting to mask their approach was equally daunting. Twigs snapped all around, creating a sound reminiscent to that of a cooking fire, and armour clanged lightly as the metal shuffled or men bumped into each other.
Thankfully he had scouts ranging ahead, to both kill any iskrill who might sight them, and to warn them of any forces attempting to intercept them. He didn’t think the enemy was aware of their presence just yet, but one could never be careful.
As he marched, the aging King’s thoughts drifted back to home. His sons were all grown men now, and the eldest was ready to replace him, with all the responsibilities such a thing would entail. Not that there were much responsibilities these things. In the thirteen years since Mekellos had arrived, the Avatar had more or less had the final say on everything. The Avatar rarely forced people to adopt his judgement, but most went along with his words anyway simply due to the fact that Mekellos spoke for their city’s patron. Anyone who publicly argued against the Avatar would suffer a loss in standing, if not with Mekellos himself than with the city as a whole.
In some ways, it was refreshing to be deployed like this; away from Mekellos’s sight. The avatar himself had ordered it, but at least he had been given independent command, which meant he could decide how best to approach the camp.
From time to time they passed the body of an iskrill, indicating that his forward-ranging scouts had successfully brought down someone who would have otherwise spotted and attacked them. But then one scout came back to report that an iskrill had sighted them but got away, and Hugon knew the element of surprise would soon be lost.
Another scout came back to him less than an hour later, informing him that they had sighted the camp. The iskrill had still not had time to flee or build additional fortifications. Hugon wondered if they knew just how many Acadians had crossed the river. The iskrill who sighted them wouldn’t have been able to glimpse the entirety of their force, after all.
The village, the scout said, was surrounded by a low wooden pallisade, only slightly higher than a tall man. There were two entrances with no gates; only crude barricades. All gates were heavily guarded, however, and the iskrill had sentries in their own keeping an eye eastward. A few scouts had even been defeated by said sentries, surprisingly enough.
The scouts did not know how many iskrill lived within, but he doubted that the village’s population outnumbered the small army he had brought.
So, Hugon gathered his officers and mages, and together they devised a plan.
“For Cadien and Acadia! Charge!”
Three hundred Acadians thundered out of the forest, their eyes set on the main entrance. The iskrill atop a crude watchtower next to the entrance shouted cries of alarm, and began unleashing slingstones and arrows at the attackers, while iskrill warriors assembled behind the barricade.
But the Acadian mages had joined the charge. With some quick hand gestures, the barricade exploded, send wooden fragments back into the eyes, throats, and stomachs of the defending iskrill.
But the iskrill had surprises of their own. As the warriors of Acadia neared, a bloated abomination pushed his way past his wounded and fallen comrades. Recognizing this particular type of beast for what it was, Hugon hung back, allowing a few of his men to pass him before he resumed his charge. The abomination opened its mouth and spewed forth a vile green substance, striking four men in the face and dissolving their flesh down to skull.
But it was not enough to stem the tide of Acadians. They surged through the opening, cutting down the fat beast, finishing off those who had been wounded by the explosion of wood, only to find themselves face to face with more defenders, who fought them with tooth, claw, and spear.
The crack of wood was heard elsewhere, and Hugon knew his flanking force was about to join the fray. Instead of attacking an entrance, he had sent his one hundred other men to attack a section of the wall, the mages in that detachment using their power to tear it down so they could swarm into an unguarded section of the settlement.
He heard a shout of alarm at the rear of his host, but could not see what was happening. Had the iskrill performed a flanking maneuver on their own? He had no way of knowing, because the man in front of him had just died, pushed aside by another savage iskrill, and Hugon was forced to fight for his life.
The fight went on for only a few more moments before the Iskrill finally broke, fleeing deeper into the village. Hugon allowed his men to pursue, but stayed back once again, and only when all had passed him was he able to turn back and see what had happened in the rear.
What he saw was the bodies of two iskrill hunters. Eight men lay dead around them, another two were greviously wounded, and a dozen or so Acadians were on their feet, either talking amongst themselves or attempting to attend to the wounded. It didn’t take a genius to know what had happened; the hunters had lurked outside the village, somehow evaded the scouts, and struck the Acadians in the rear when they had committed themselves.
He looked back to the village, which was already beginning to burn as the iskrill inside were hunted down and exterminated. He wondered how many would escape. He had been ordered to leave no survivors, but such an order was nothing if not unrealistic. There were always going to be those who survived; those who played dead, hid, were already outside the village when the attack happened, or knew of some escape route the attackers didn’t. They were all common enough occurrences when the Iskrill raided Acadian villages, so he didn’t see why the inverse should be different.
But just to be sure, Hugon had the village burned anyway, and had his men surround it so they could pick off any who tried to flee. And indeed, some did, only to be shot by archers, blasted with magic, or impaled on spears.
The village was still smoking when a sharp light stirred a collection of soldiers, and drew attention to the assembled treetops. Like a beacon, a grand pillar of blue, white and purple rose into the sky, a beam from on high illuminating a distant location. Then as soon as it appeared, it faded. A few moments of confusion spread amongst the ranks, before a loud rumble rolled in with the clouds, like thunder called from on high. It came with its own quakes, the very ground shaking as the roaring sound rolled past. It too faded eventually, leaving a now unsettling silence in its place. It had been too far away to investigate - and none seemed too keen to head in its direction.
It was not long after that large wings spread out over the sky, rapidly approaching from the same direction as the beam of energy. The servant of the Lover approached like a giant hawk swooping down from the sky. Without real patience for those assembled around the smoking village, Aveira slammed down in the middle of the camp mere minutes after the trouble on the horizon, whipping up dust, dirt and blood as she landed.
The Acadian soldiers knelt upon recognizing her, their king included. “The iskrill have been dealt with, my lady,” Hugon reported.
Aveira cast a sharp look at the assembled soldiers and frowned, almost as if his words reminded her of their presence. Her gaze settled on the King, and she sauntered closer with a straight back, bringing the tall avatar closer to the kneeling soldiers. "Casualties? How far will your… hunting party… be able to press?"
“We lost two dozen men,” Hugon reported. “Some Hunters caught us off guard. We can press further. Maybe sack another village before nightfall. But at some point we’ll need to dig in for the night.”
The winged avatar raised her gaze to the sky, staring up at the sun to idly gauge the time left in the day. "I suppose Cadien's dog will have an opinion." she gave with an impassive tone, before focusing back on the King. "The Lady would like me to bestow an honor on those who excel. I trust you to make an adequate selection."
Hugon furrowed his brow at the insult toward Cadien’s avatar, but did not protest. “May I ask what sort of honour you have in mind?”
"Yes. Given your predicament with these savage creatures and the importance of valuable resources, it only makes sense to boost their effectiveness. Neiya decrees success in war as much as love." Aveira replied stiffly, gaze falling on the kneeling troops. "You may stand."
The Acadians rose to their feet. “How many do you wish for me to select?” Hugon asked.
Aveira focused back on the king, and with a single beat of her massive wings closed the distance between them - and sent a wave of force over the ranks in the process. She lifted her hand to place on his shoulder, and set her eyes on his. "Any number, King Hugon. But what makes them worthy, and is it worth risking ire in the face of divinity?"
Hugon’s eyebrows rose at the implied threat. It seemed he could name as many as he wished, provided he had a valid reason, but if he did not it would anger her. But how many was too many, and what did she consider worthy? This was a test. “Every man and woman who stands before you is worthy,” he declared, loud enough for all of them to hear. “Every one of them has come to defend their homeland to and destroy its enemies. They have all put their lives at risk, and will continue to do so in the days to come.” A few smiled, pleased to receive such a compliment from their King.
But Hugon was not finished. “Unlike the Iskrill scourge, we Acadians fight as cohesive units, not as individuals. The Flameweaver did not drive them back alone. Even the greatest warriors, mages, and heroes among us would accomplish little without the comrades who stand beside them. It is for these reasons that I must select them all.”
Aveira straightened out slowly, scrutinizing the king as he faced her down with fresh resolve. Her extended hand lifted into the sky, and around her fingertips tendrils of light touched and spun in the air. The tendrils grew to a vortex, until it exploded out over the entire remnants of the village, showering each and every soldier with a golden sheen. Under the coating of light, wounds and injuries began to heal, with only the most grievous damage left after the healing energy had run its course. Further, the energy seemed to seep into their pores, steeling their resolve and dispelling fickle doubts and fears.
"Soldiers of Acadia! Your king has trusted you with the fate of his city," she called, voice carrying far and wide about the camp. "Know that while you fight for Acadia, Neiya herself stands by your side. Honour your rulers, and honour your gods."
The Acadians let out a cheer, slamming the butts of their spears against the ground in unison. Hugon nodded gratefully.
“Ah, you’re both already here!” Mekellos suddenly spoke, stepping out of the trees. “Very good. Shall we carry on?”
Mekellos is waiting in Acadia with a small army. Aveira shows up. Now they can finally set out on their campaign.
They cross the river on boats. Mekellos and Aveira absolutely slaughter an iskrill encampment. The army lands, and they decide to split up to attack three iskrill villages further inland. Mekellos and Aveira will each take one, while King Hugon will lead the army against the third.
So yeah. They do that. Hugon attacks a village. Things don’t go entirely as planned because the iskrill have spitters and hunters, but the Acadians are still able to destroy the settlement with relatively light casualties. Aveira then shows up, having destroyed a village of her own offscreen. She asks Hugon to select soldiers he deems worthy of a reward. Hugon decides to select all of them, and Aveira gives them a blessing.
Then Mekellos shows up, ready to continue the campaign.
Neiya (Aveira) 5/5 -1 MP to obliterate an Iskrill village with a big laser. -1 MP to heal the injured Acadian soldiers. -2 DP to bless Acadias soldier caste with a useful new ability against the Iskrill; in combat they naturally appear more imposing and dangerous, and as such spread fear and doubt in iskrill ranks.
Even though Kia had been mostly laid out resting and recovering, it had been a relentless set of days. It took Oruna almost a full two days before she came back to see her, sending another young girl who dared not even speak to Kia in her own stead to check on her wounds. Attempts at conversing with passing villagers earned her only flustered stares and murmuring. When Oruna returned, she did so with renewed conviction. Now not only did Kia have to maintain her composure around the pungent smells of whatever strange herbal mixes they were smearing on her bruises, but also keep her cool whilst being barraged by questions about her gifts. Oruna had many ideas about the nature of Kia's gifts with ice, and none were particularly close to the truth. Her questions in turn related mainly to what ice was, and where it came from. As an added benefit, the jungle woman now seemed to put more stock in Kia's words whenever she mentioned the goddess of the past - or at least she no longer dismissed it as false.
On the third day of this interrogative care, the village renewed itself with a hubbub unlike any Kia had seen. She was crawling with anticipation and perhaps anxiety. She didn't know what was going on and it showed in her never ending barrage of questions. Oruna, who had seemed to be in a better mood than previous days, laughed off most of her questions with variations of the same response; the hunters had returned. The same afternoon two women caked in dried paint and mud came to see her, and though they seemed to have no interest in properly introducing themselves, Kia could infer from their hectic conversation and Oruna's responses that these were the women who found her in the forest. No questions or comments were levied straight at Kia, it was almost like she didn't exist except to be looked at. They poked and prodded at her, and one of them extended thin fingers to press against her cheeks and grinning demonstratively to try and get Kia to show her teeth.
“You could ask, you know.” Kia muttered, baring her teeth for them to see.
Almost immediately, two rough thumbs shot up against her lip to push it up further, and the athletic woman began a quick investigation, forcefully moving Kia's head to and fro as she inspected her teeth, nose and eyes. Finally she let go and released a verdict to Oruna loud enough for Kia to hear: "Good enough stock. Western, perhaps."
Oruna seemed pleased by this, and her eyes met Kia's conspiratorially, mischief clear in her gaze. Given the previous few days, it wasn't hard to imagine gears were turning in her head, rife with new opportunities. As the two huntresses began to depart, they deigned to bring up another fact - again only available to Kia by way of eavesdropping; the beast she had fought in the jungle was apparently called a Koreet, and few came out of a lone encounter with such a beast with any hopes of survival.
Koreet. Now that was a word that sounded dangerous and she had… Killed one? She shook her head, repressing bad memories. She turned to look at the older woman, "Oruna what do they mean? Western stock? Is that good or bad?" She asked, rubbing her sore gums.
Oruna watched the women round a nearby hut before turning her head to look back to Kia, and offering her another pleased smile through her heavy face paint. "They think you are from the border clans, close to the great wastes. They are prized among wealthy men, very frail. We," she gestured at the two of them greedily. "We know better of course. Perhaps your god has put you here for a good purpose, Keeah."
"I'm not frail." She muttered under her breath.
Her response elicited an amused tut from Oruna, who leaned forward to ruffle her hair. “Not all predators look frightening, Keeah. Now rest. Tomorrow, I take you before Za’watem Etana. Just follow me, I have a plan. Hm?”
Kia blushed as Oruna touched her and looked to the floor, mumbling. "You're not going to tell me the plan, are you?" Oruna just smiled mischievously.
The buzzing of insects diving in past her ears made Kia infinitely more aware of how poor a state of dress she was in. Oruna had given her a basic rough cover to wrap around her body, but had immediately demanded she bare her neck and shoulders. The canopy of trees and basic shelter did little to prevent the sun’s scorching rays, and she felt the sweltering heat drain away her energy little by little. She could feel what little water she had drunk run along her skin in sweat. To make matters worse, a tickling brush of animal hair danced teasingly against her neck and throat, as Oruna applied some kind of foul-smelling mixture from a bowl. It was only slightly darker than the huntress’ own paint, but also looked grainier. At a guess Kia could assume it was cheaper, or at least lower quality.
“Don’t move so much,” Oruna complained absent-mindedly, tickling the brush against her throat, despite the fact that Kia hadn’t moved at all. Or not much, at least.
“I- The brush tickles me.” Kia complained likewise. “What even is this stuff?” She asked, crossing her arms.
“The blessing of the Water and Sun, from my ancestors. Like mine, yes?” Oruna answered matter-of-factly, neglecting to touch on the fact that she was covered in painted symbols, none of which looked remotely like anything like water or the sun. “Like I told you, it is dangerous to wear no symbols. You will become marked, walking in the wrong place. Especially this close to Zuanwa. The Daughter of the Water asks many slaves in tribute each passing of the moon. I do not doubt many die to build her strange structures.”
"Daughter of the Water… Who is that? What are these strange structures?" Kia asked, forgetting about her 'blessings.'
Oruna scoffed quietly, keeping her eyes on Kia's neck. The brush twirled and shifted against skin slowly. "Za'watem Uraka. She rules the great city now that her father has been collected by the Great Hunter. Through her the world speaks, and she rules from a giant stack of stones. Now she is building more of them."
Fantastical thoughts filled Kia's head as she thought about a great city of stone. How did it work? How could such a thing even be made? How many people must live there? She found herself smirking and she asked, "But why Oruna? It all sounds soooo, make believe. Does a village like that actually exist?"
Firm fingers corrected her head and tilted it slightly upwards as Oruna hummed a response before speaking. "It is like twenty villages, with stone that reaches above the trees. Large rivers herded by square stones. Where the paint flows like water. I have only seen it once, but perhaps you will have a chance to see it."
“You think so Oruna? I can hardly imagine it, but to see it with my own two eyes? It would be… Wonderful.” she said in a small voice, cheeks blushing red. What was she saying? How foolish was she?
"And done!" Oruna exclaimed with a sigh of relief, leaning away as she removed the brush from Kia's neck. "Now you are almost perfect." Oruna gave her a cursory peer of scrutiny before rustling up from her seat to walk over to the hut to the right of the shelter - which Kia had come to understand belonged to Oruna. She reappeared in moments, throwing a bundle of leather and fabric at her. It was a single broad strap to pull around her torso, and a thin leather clasp with two red sheets of thin fabric hanging from them. As far as clothes came, this was the least there was.
Kia looked them over in her hands, feeling the fabric. Up until now she had mostly worn blankets and sheets to cover herself. These looked… Very revealing. “Y-You want m-me to w-wear these?” She stammered, feeling her heartbeat quicken.
"Too big?" Oruna replied idly. "I only have what I wear. Maybe you can tighten them. Or, are you worried about skin?"
“I- Um…” Kia seemed to freeze up. It was one thing to wear little in the company of the one who saved her, who also happened to be a woman- but to wear so little outside in the public eye. She turned beat red. “S-Skin… Oruna… I’m not used to… t-this.”
The huntress looked more amused than anything else, watching Kia quietly freak out in front of her. Without another word she headed back into her hut, coming back out with a modest bundle of orange fur speckled with black and brown spots. She dumped it together with the rest of the 'clothes'. "Perhaps for the best. You are so bright, maybe Etana will lose her eyes if you are not covered. Do not cover your neck, yes?"
She gave a quiet sigh of relief and traded the clothes she held for more comforting ones. She gave Oruna a small nod of thanks. “Don’t cover my neck, got it.” She said, donning the furs. These did well to cover almost every part of her besides her neck. She then put her hair up into a messy bun and looked to Oruna for any sign of approval. Another silly thought, by any means. She hardly knew her, really and yet… What was she wanting?
Oruna hemmed and hawed briefly, giving Kia a proper lookover. After a moment of thought she leaned down for the bowl of colorful dye once more, dipping her finger in it before moving up to Kia. With a decisive motion, she pushed her finger against Kia's nose and dragged it down along its shape, coating her skin in more of the dye. She moved swiftly to drag quick lines gently over both her cheeks as well. "There."
“What are those for?” Kia asked.
"Make you less bright, show less skin." Oruna lectured with a sagely tone. "When Etana speaks, do not interrupt. She is an unpleasant woman in many ways, but the spirits have chosen her."
“Okay.” Kia said. “But why is she unpleasant?”
Despite having spent several days in the village, Kia was seeing the rest of the village for the first time. A mishmash of shelters, clay huts, and wooden dens built into the underbrush made up the majority of living space, and a river cut through the jungle on one side. With it came a clear view of other structures in the distance much like this village - other small settlements dotted around the river.
At the centre of this village however was a single building of light-coloured stone, though it's denomination as such was hinged entirely on a thin ceiling of hung cloth, without which it'd be more akin to an altar cornered by pillars of stone. In the middle of this altar, situated atop a small mound of furs and packed clay, sat chieftess Etana.
The chieftess was a frail-looking woman, with shoulders half as broad as Oruna's and a slim shape less athletic than Kia herself. Her dark skin was painted from head to toe in swirling red and yellow patterns that looked like dried blood and mud, save for her face which had long intricate lines of blue. She was more paint than person, save for a simple skirt of leaves and loincloth. Her head turned as her gaze fixed on the recent arrival of Oruna and Kia, alongside the two huntresses that had come to inspect her the day prior. Her eyes were coiled and drawn out like arrowheads, and half her face had been left unpainted despite her station. The reason became obvious as soon as Kia looked closer - her dark skin gave way to pale patches of skin, as pale as Kia’s own, dotted in erratic clusters over her face and neck. The natural skin pattern had been reverently left alone, as if to further draw attention to it. The chieftess craned her neck forward inquisitively as Oruna urged Kia forward, and the both of them came to a halt right before the small altar. A brief silence reigned, as the chieftess stared at them expectantly, her narrow eyes digging into Kia.
“Oh. Chieftess Etana, Wisdom of the Skies, Most Humble of Rulers, please accept our presence,” Oruna began, clearing her throat after a few moments of thought. “You desired to see the girl that battled the jungle - here she is.” Kia felt Oruna’s fingers dig into her hair, guiding her head backwards to lift her chin towards Etana.
The chieftess gazed at Kia with a seething suspicion that somehow felt too personal - too interested in more than her face. When she said nothing, Oruna continued. “It has been a true trial to guide her back from the brink. She is lucky to have been gracefully saved by your magnanimous mercy, Chieftess.”
Silence took over as Etana continued staring, before lifting a single hand. “Come to me.”
With some reluctance and a prodding from Oruna, Kia stepped forward to The chieftess. She was nervous and it showed as she looked to the ground at her feet. Dirt was traded for firm rock as she climbed the small stone ingress, coaxed up to face Etana head on. Brown eyes burrowed deep into her soul, and the chieftess kept her hand outstretched no matter how close she dared step. Kia took one step too many and the frail Etana gripped her wrist and pulled, demanding her closer. "She is already painted? This is your doing, Oruna?" She exclaimed as her gaze fixated on her neck.
Kia heard Oruna behind her - she sounded so distant now. "As gratitude for my care, she has pledged her life to me. It would have been most unkind of me to reject her."
"Truly?" Etana mused with a frown, and lifted her gaze to stare straight at Kia's face. "You cast yourself into the service of Ta'zesh Oruna? You would have a better life with me." The chieftess explained with a certain intensity, all too clear from the continued grip on Kia's wrist.
“I-I wish to be with Oruna.” Kia said in a small voice. The Chieftess’ touch was warm, even a bit clammy and it was a feeling Kia did not like. She said nothing else though, for fear she might say something offensive or wrong. She just wanted to be with Oruna, she had been nice to her and healed her. The thought of being with Etana was… Something she did not want.
Her reply seemed to send the chieftess into a deep frown, and her gaze shifted past Kia again, back to acknowledging Oruna in her stead. “What are you planning, Oruna? Not satisfied with your lot? And you two,” she snapped quickly, turning her attention to the two hunters who had come along. “Why did you come to Oruna and not me with this girl?”
“She was dying, Za’watem. Since Za’wal Renek and his apprentices are out of the village, Oruna was the-...”
“That’s enough. I won’t hear any more of these obstinate lies.” Etana interrupted, and Kia could feel her grip on her wrist intensifying. Heavy and irritated breaths fell loud enough to hear, and her eyes seemed to carry a building fury of her own making.
“There’s no need to worry, Za’watem Etana,” Oruna cut in from the steps of the small altar, behind Kia still.. “As you say I have no true need for a servant. I intend to travel along the river, and trade her in Zuanwa for a life of peace and luxury. As you can see she is good for nothing but blinding men with her skin.”
The Chieftess stared past Kia, and then briefly turned her attention back to her. Suspicion and anger was clear in her scrutinous gaze, but her grip on Kia’s wrist finally relented as the frail woman scoffed. “Fine. As usual, your greed does you no credit, Ta’zesh Oruna, but I will be happy to be rid of you.”
“Your wisdom is legendary, Etana of the Skies.” Oruna produced.
Oruna’s word cut Kia like a knife. Her eyes went wide as she turned to the woman. She caught a brief glimpse of a stoic Oruna meeting her eyes with a sterner gaze than ever before. Was that her plan all along? To sell her as a slave? She could feel her blood begin to boil but a thought ebbed her wound. Oruna had said to follow her, had she not? Was this her plan? Besides, even if it wasn’t, she couldn’t lose herself again. Not to these people. She looked at the floor again and waited.
What followed was an attempt from both sides to deescalate the animosity that had sparked during the conversation, with Etana taking an idle interest in how Kia came to be at the village at all - and thus she turned to the two huntresses idling beside Oruna. Their tale was long, quick-spoken between the two of them, and embellished with a lot of tangents about their own hunt and what appeared to be a rivalry with another group of jungle folk. Most of it went over her head, not least of all because she’d heard much of it before. Despite having been the center of attention before, it was now almost like Kia was invisible while the women spoke. They were talking about carrying her to the village, in a way that made it clear she had no place in the conversation. She languished in the middle of this back-and-forth, stood awkwardly between Etana and Oruna waiting as conversation went on.
Finally Oruna’s voice cut through the chatter, and only then did it become apparent attention was back on her. “Keeah. Tell the Za’watem of how you came here. About Rheeona.”
“I…” She began. What did she even tell them? Everything? No, not everything, but enough. “I came from a land far from here. It is a land of snow and ice. Rhiona, A goddess, found me wandering alone in the wastes after I… Lost sight of my path. She then sent me here within a blink. I became lost in the trees and that… creature attacked me and I barely survived. I owe my thanks to all standing here.” she finished shuffling in place.
"A goddess?" The painted chieftess queried with a frown. Her eyes dug into Kia searchingly.
"A powerful za'wal, to be sure. Perhaps a wicked ritualist." Oruna stepped in to explain with quick speed.
Etana glared at them both, but settled back in her seat slowly and waved her hand flippantly towards Kia. "What is snow?"
Kia was taken aback by the question. It shouldn’t have surprised her, given how much Oruna was fascinated by it. But how did she explain that without showing? “I… Uh… Snow is like, umm… A white blanket that covers the land when it comes down from the sky. Like rain but softer and gentle. It melts into water if it touches skin. That is snow.”
The chieftess looked at the others gathered, some of whom shrugged their shoulders to enforce never having heard of such a thing. "I see," Etana declared. "That is simple. You have mystified my subjects but your embellishments cannot fool me. I have been to the Mistmarshes, what you describe is the descent of clouds." She waved her hand dismissively.
Kia smiled. “Yes, that’s right! We have mist too and when it gets cold enough it will freeze. Other clouds descend, like thousands of small white flakes with beautiful little patterns if you look close enough.”
"I would very much like to see that. Perhaps you will take me to your old home." Etana crooned calmly. Their eyes met, and Kia noted the conspiratorial stare she was subjected to.
Kia shied away from the stare, gripping her upper arm. “Well umm, I don’t actually know where my home is anymore. It might be, far far away now.” She said with a small voice.
"So you are not about to lead Oruna there the moment you step outside this village? Hm?" She pressed with a growing intensity. Etana shifted in her makeshift seat, before rising up to stand. She was considerably shorter than Kia, but even as frail as she was she was broad-shouldered and fierce-looking. The paint made it hard to follow her movements. "If this Rheeona likes you so much to attend you personally, she might reward your return. Where is your home?"
Kia took a slight step back. “I-I told you. I don’t know… I arrived on a beach… I-I don’t want to go back there. P-Please.” She said, her heart growing distressed as the memories of her village came to mind and the dead faces. So many dead faces.
"That's enough." Oruna cut in from behind her. "There's no need to harass the girl, as you can clearly see she is too weak to even understand your words properly, great Etana. She will be useful only to the comfortable and lazy of Zuanwa. Out here she will surely die of drop fever."
Tension rose as silence affixed itself amidst the gathered. Etana stared at Kia and then past her, her eyes narrowing as they found Oruna.
Kia sucked in a deep breath and looked to the ground. She felt clammy and uncomfortable and she just wanted to leave. Yet the weight of the women around her shackled her in place. She couldn't leave until they were let go. She had to stick it out.
"Fine. Go. Throw her at the feet of the Daughter of the Water and pray Uraka and her preening sky-readers care for you more than I." Chieftess Etana finally concluded, and a hand gripped Kia's arm almost immediately after.
In her ear, Oruna murmured a quiet urge to leave before lifting her head to give Etana a brief but formal and curt departure honorific. She had lived through Etana's scrutiny, and was quickly whisked away from the altar by Oruna, who seemed keen to drag her out of sight. "Do you understand now?" She offered with a sigh.
“I-I-I don’t k-know.” Kia murmured, head still to the ground.
"Embolden yourself, Keeah. You are much more formidable than her. But a huntress must obey the jungle." Kia stood a little straighter and let herself be guided by Oruna safely out of sight by any.
It was only when they neared Oruna’s hut did Kia finally break herself free from her grasp. She then stood and looked at the older woman. “You’re not… You’re not really going to sell me, are you?” she asked.
Oruna scoffed at that, turning to glance at Kia with a mischievous smirk that seemed to accentuate the intricate face paint. “Will you let me, Keeah?”
Kia took a step back, as the question caught her off guard. She then narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists, anger welling up in her heart. “N-No… No!” She shouted. “I don’t want to be sold! You can’t! I-I Thought I meant something to you!” The air seemed to grow colder.
The older huntress watched her reaction with no true shift in her expression, though gradually her smirk turned to an impassive, lazy frown. Oruna took a step towards her hut to pull aside the fur hiding the entryway. “Then what do you have to worry about? Only the weak let others dictate their lives,” she turned back to face Kia, raising a brow. “The strong lie in wait until it is their time to strike. Are you weak, Keeah? Or strong?” The girl took a deep breath, then unclenched her fists. The cold air was swallowed up by the heat and Kia sighed. She walked closer to Oruna and then stood in the doorway, turning to the huntress. With a fierce look in her eye, she said, “I’m strong.” Then walked inside.
“Good,” Oruna murmured as she passed, and she found herself in the small but cozy hut filled with fur, knives, obsidian-tipped arrows, and a few spears. “Now that you have survived Etana, I can tell you the real plan.”
The flap closed behind them, hiding them away from the rest of the village.
Kia is finally rested enough to move around, and this signals a new set of trials for our pale teen heroine. She learns more of Zuanwan culture and beliefs, and learns what attacked her in the wilds. With Oruna at her side, she prepares to meet Za’watem Etana, the chieftess of their tributary village. Kia is painted as a servant according to local customs, but Oruna refuses to tell her the plan in its entirety. She learns of Zuanwa and Uraka’s rule, and wishes to see the big city like a real folksy country girl.
Kia then gets to meet the chieftess, and Oruna has correctly warned her that Za’watem Etana kinda sucks. She spends most of the meeting being a jerk, and makes Kia feel bad in many ways, and raises doubts where none were before. After a long and awful meeting, Oruna hints that a true huntress relies on trickery, and offers to let Kia in on the “real plan”.
The trees rustled warily in the howl of the agitated storms in Neiya's realm. Stone cracked and splintered as talons dug into the pillar holding up the centre pavillion, and subsequently crumbled under pressure as Neiya pulled back, ripping the stonework from its foundation to wield the pillar like a club. With a furious scream not unlike a petulant youth, she swung her massive weapon at the remnant of her luxurious structure, sending shattered debris all over the riverside glen as the building toppled under the impact and collapsed under the combined pressure of it's own weight and Neiya's assault. As if the realm itself knew the significance of this event and the resident deity's unbridled fury, the ground shook and the walls of the realm itself rumbled warily.
Another furious roar as the goddess continued her tantrum, and threw what remained of her pillar with all her might. It smashed into the remnants of her old nesting place, spraying rock and dust everywhere. Thick coils of black energy twisted and churned around the goddess that had once allegedly stood for love, but now seemed to fall ever deeper into some lovelorn despair. The black tendrils extended to touch all shadows in her realm, and in the darkness, something stirred. Countless eyes, teeth, and growls resounded about the primordial world, as it twisted and warped into something wildly unrecognizable compared to it's old shape as a natural garden.
The goddess swore and cried two names, swinging her arm out over the landscape in a fit of unbridled anger. The realm responded, and vast swathes of the land were set ablaze with an endless fire. In the blaze soon wriggled new creatures, wrought to life out of the sheer fury of the goddess. Horned, burning silhouettes skipped around, and before long were sunk deep into brawls amongst themselves.
Neiya did not notice. Heaving heavy breaths, Neiya stumbled across the chaotic ruins of her realm. Her eyes whipped to and fro, as though trying to find something new to destroy - to no avail. It was then that she turned to Galbar. Her gaze and mind focused on Oraelia's lake in the Luminant, home to her traitors. A new plan formed, of revenge and justice. An eye for an eye. Gibbou would be next, as soon as she figured out what Gibbou had ever done on Galbar. For now, Oraelia's creations would suffice.
And so, the Goddess began to sing. She suppressed her fury into a cold and centered vengeance, and listened to the endless torrent of mortal woes to channel all of it at the Oraeliari. A song of eternal sorrow, infectious and unrivaled in beauty. It caught the ear of a single unassuming man in the glowing forest, and Neiya silenced herself, knowing the deed was done.
Now that her focus was here, however, she could just as well try to influence the Oraeliari further, and add to her collection. Trying to focus on a village in the Luminant, Neiya parted her lips to sigh, and a portal tore and whirled open to the world beyond. She was about to call out to the confused denizens beyond when something skittered into her vision, a black beast, licked by dark flames, quickly darted past to escape her realm and dive onto Galbar through the portal. A whole pack of beasts slipped after it. Neiya blinked, her petty scheme of vengeance replaced with confusion. Then, out of nowhere, a tall humanoid that looked like a poor copy of the goddess herself, though licked by flames, ran past at breakneck speed, throwing itself through the portal with a yowl. Before long, the portal closed in on itself.
Neiya stood there bemused, then took a glance about her ruined realm. It was teeming with strange life, called into existence by her reckless behavior. Unsure what to think, Neiya took a breath and considered her curse.
She'd need to do some digging before she could hit Gibbou where it hurt.
Neiya is angry after her short battle with Gibbou. Like a petulant child, she rampages through her own realm and warps it into something entirely different. She doesn't appear to notice that several new creatures spring to life during her tantrum.
Channeling her rage into something suitably petty, she curses the Oraeliari in the Luminant. She then tries to steal some Oraeliari with a portal, but stops when she realizes her new beasts slipped onto Galbar.
Neiya: 5/5
4 DP - Song of Sorrow Oraeliari in the Luminant are afflicted by the Song of Sorrow, a curse that spreads through negative emotion and thought. Sighing, negative words or unpleasant emotions are all contributors. Afflicted beings slowly become despondent and apathetic, failing to see any positive qualities in life. This gradually becomes worse until their depression pulls them into becoming Neiyari, or they waste away and stop taking care of themselves. Together with this, the thoughts of affected Oraeliari are slowly overtaken by the forlorn song, making it difficult to escape its grip when once allowed to take hold.
1 / 1 MP / DP- Trovers A species of hound native to Neiya's realm. They feed on fear and are able to sense it much like a regular dog would smell food. Further, they are stronger and fiercer the more fear are around them. They do bite. A lot.
3 MP - Furies This humanoid species are a vague reminder of their horned creator, though come in hues of red, brown and green. They are intrinsically linked to rage and flame, and are able to manifest heat when enraged. Their continued presence will spark fires and violence. They are very strong and fast (compared to the human average), but are not actually sentient and are no more intelligent than a particularly clever crow.
Covered by the veil of morning fog, a long and subdued procession of villagers shuffled along the trampled path westward. Despite numbering almost a hundred, the line of travellers was almost entirely quiet; beckoned to silence by the cold air, the early morning, and the rough road. In the distance behind them they could still catch glimpses in the mist of their old home, abandoned structures of wood, stone and leather and all else that could not be deconstructed and carried on their pilgrimage.
At the back of the procession, one couple struggled to keep the pace ahead of them. A worn woman carrying a mewling bundle, the pressure of recent motherhood scoring her otherwise ageless youth with bags and wrinkles, and a horned man fighting to drag packing to the collective rhythm of the procession trampling dirt and snow underfoot. The bundle offered a temporary complaint, and the woman halted further in her pace as she focused on her child - at least until those behind her threatened to bump into her with their presence. A few short heaves of breath to steel herself, she nuzzled her baby and hurried up alongside her husband. Breathless from the short jog in the morning sun, she pleaded with him. "Eirik… it's not too late to see reason," she pushed out between breaths. "We can go back to the others who stayed. We don't even know how far-"
Her husband shot out a sharp breath, shushing her with a frown and a glance. Hoisting the rope tying their packing together further over his shoulder, he fought a fury borne from hard labor before tempering himself enough to speak. "We have spoken of this already. Less than a dozen remain. I doubt they shall last two winters. Is," he paused to drag the large pack of supplies over uneven ground with a grunt. "Is that the life you want for us? For Ronja?'
She could not answer that with anything but a burning shame in her cheeks, staring down at the unknowing child bundled in blankets in her arms. Already small nubs were growing on her temples under the wiry white hair. Early horns were a sign of a healthy child, the shamans said.
"Besides," Eirik continued between struggling breaths of his own in the cold morning air. "Rurik and his lot may want to defy the gutakvínn and her message, but I am not going to invite that kind of doom into our household." Almost as if summoned by his words, a silhouette appeared above the front of the long procession, large beating wings dissipating fog and snow to reveal the winged, horned woman that led their excursion from the air.
"Eirik…" she breathed with worry and shame in her tone.
"Just walk, Kari. Promised land or not, we'll build a new home. We'll give Ronja the life she deserves."
The ruckus of new arrivals had brought with it nearly a week of debate. After the arrival of the Steinnvaetr tribe from the northeastern reaches of the snowy wastes - and they had reported a hard journey with no sightings of other kin along the way - discussion had begun to shoot through the peaceful settlement that no other tribes were coming. That the wait was over.
Kari stood in a ring of people in the midst of their valley-village, a fascinated three-year old Ronja hoisted up in her arms. For three years they'd argued whether to wait for more pilgrims before moving southwest towards the promised land, and people had begun to settle in. Only the gutakvínn pushed to keep moving - as she always had - but with every chieftain that had arrived, it was another voice against leaving this valley by the water. Now they had dragged the whole debate up again, with the chiefs and the winged messenger surrounded by the village as they debated publicly. With long horns coiling from her head, and wings of blue and gold able to spread in a wingspan beyond that of several men, she cut an imposing figure even before her height came into play. That had kept the chieftains in line during the pilgrimage, but now that they were assembled, they argued with her at every venture.
"There's just no way of knowing if more are on the way, hopeful of joining the great pilgrimage. It would do our kinsmen a grand disservice to abandon this meeting place," argued Chief Borgir, facing off against the winged and horned gutakvínn with the same undaunted arrogance as he always had in these past three years.
"Indeed," the elderly chieftain Torkil cut in to steal the word, leaning on his staff weakly despite looking as youthful as the rest. "To resume the search for the promised land could spell the doom for many hopefuls yet arrived, and uproot all we have prepared here. We are thankful for your effort in leading us here, Aveira of the Mother, but now we must trust in the song to tell us when to resume the pilgrimage."
Aveira, the gutakvínn, watched the two conduct themselves before her with disdain, but seemed more interested in the expressions of the assembled audience, and the hummed agreements their words captured. Before she could respond a third voice piped up to stack arguments against leaving; this time it was Chieftain Havardr, who had gone to the extra trouble of wearing his ostentatious reindeer helmet, covering his small horns with grand antlers. "This bay is perfect for our ways. The Song flows undisturbed, and the fauna are in harmony. To abandon it for another land would be folly, when our resources are so meager."
Kari frowned to herself, remembering when Havardr had demanded all new arrivals pay him half their supplies in tribute. To hear him speak of resources now was to spit on all things decent, and yet she agreed. She tugged Ronja up properly on her side. There couldn't be another journey so soon.
But the gutakvínn did not agree. When silence finally lingered save for some brief murmurs in the crowd, she took it upon herself to respond. Kari still hadn't adjusted to the booming echo of the divine being's voice, nor how her speech seemed to be in another language entirely, yet resonated properly in her head to give it meaning. "Your concerns are unfounded. Were we to depart, I would make certain that others of your kin were not lost. The promised land waits. All that it requires is a journey that shall only become easier the further south we travel."
A brief silence reigned as the stern, powerful voice echoed in the minds of the assembled, joined only by a few coughs and the quiet mewling of a newborn in the crowd. It was not to be, however, as old chieftain Torkil cleared his throat to warn of his incoming dissent, his staff wobbling unsteadily as he straightened his back in the crowd-circle. "Ah, it eases my heart that you would extend such a courtesy to both us pilgrims on this long journey, and our kin who have not yet arrived. What you did not account for in your assurances is the uprooting of all we have built here - the risk to families and children who have just begun to settle." Torkil gestured straight at Kari and Ronja in her arms where they stood in the crowd, casually using them to affirm his point. A strange sensation of primal fear rippled along her spine, and she felt the eyes of the gutakvínn linger on her for what felt like an eternity.
"But afore you argue this point, Aveira of the Mother," Torkil continued, dragging the winged woman's attention back to him. Kari released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. "I propose before this council of peers and divine that this matter will not be settled by discussion - we must vote."
A hum and murmur of agreement spread through the crowd, and perhaps most importantly, among the seven chieftains crowding around Aveira in the middle of the circle. Aveira herself viewed them with what Kari would call open scorn, but still the winged woman relented, seeming to speak to the seven men - not loud enough for the crowd to hear.
"Wha's happenin', mama?" Ronja piped up softly. Kari sighed sharply and gently rocked her three-year old daughter gently. A sting of fear lingered in her heart, as she stared at the gutakvínn. Aveira glanced out over the crowd, and for just a moment Kari's eyes met with the unyielding and stern gaze of the winged woman. It was enough to rocket her heart into fear.
"D-Don't worry, Flower," she offered under her breath, looking down at the chieftain's feet. "We're safe here."
The quiet rush of water seemed to tantalize even the most restless of people with it's peaceful rhythm. The gravel-mixed sand on the beach rattled with a melodic uproar each time a wave washed up onto the land, hugging the bay in brief and fleeting moments. The sonorous rhythms of the sea followed as a natural accompaniment, each crash of waves and foam-touched wind settling in the powerful melody. Like a mastercrafted rattle snare rattled against fur, the strong ocean winds caught in the trees in the midst of their spring awakening and shook them to a gentle agitation. Eager to add to the chorus, the call of a few birds returning from the south mingled with unerring talent, completing the performance into a symphony that only nature could provide. This land had long been untouched, and the Song was strong here - so strong that even those like Eirik, who'd never busied himself with the Song, could pick up it's melodic notes with only a calm mind and open ears. The world was at peace here, in the valley that had become their home.
Judging by the impatient fidgeting, idle sniffles and murmurs among the assembled children however, not all appreciated the Song as Eirik did. He sat on the stump of the birch they felled last summer, watching chieftain Torkil try to lead the assembly of over two dozen youths in training, urging them to sit quietly and listen with extremely varied results. The two boys at the back - Roval's twins - wouldn't stop fighting over a stick, and little Embla at the front of the pack seemed more interested in whatever everyone else was doing. Rikkon's son seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep. Eirik scanned the crowd for his own daughter, and found her radiant silver hair and black horns poking up between a few shorter kids. She was sitting quiet, a determined frown on her face and eyes closed, nose scrunched up the same way as when eel hit the dinner table at home. Even at a mere eight years, Ronja was putting in an amount of effort most of her older peers did not, and it made Eirik's heart swell with pride. Even with the bustle of distracted children, he had no doubt she'd pick up the melody.
That is, until something rocked the symphony with a loud rush of wind that washed over his back, enough to drown out the Song and ruin his basic concentration. The beat of wings stiffened his back, and he knew what was coming even before the gutakvínn Aveira wandered into view to come standing beside him. Her horns coiled far longer than any merelli in Reginsvik, and she stood several heads taller. Every time he saw her, he was reminded of her first arrival, speaking of promised lands and free choice in a way that made it sound neither appealing nor like a choice.
He languished in a brief moment of tension before the gutakvínn broke the silence, speaking calmly so as to not disrupt the proceedings. Even so her voice shot through his senses like an arrow. "Which one is yours?"
Eirik hesitated until he caught her head turning towards him in the corner of his eye. Cursing himself inwardly, he gestured towards Ronja's silver head poking up in the middle of the crowd. "Ronja. She wants to be a shaman."
"A reasonable ideal. The song is a powerful tool to lead the pilgrimage forward." she returned with unyielding determination.
Eirik drew a short breath, allowing himself a glance towards the tall, winged woman. Her eyes were fixed on chieftain Torkil and the children, her features unchanged since first he saw her some eight years prior. Merelli were ageless, but she was untouched by all things. Like an ill memory that never shifted. "The vote is tonight, then?"
"Mmh," Aveira confirmed with a sharp tone. "Though I'm afraid I already know the outcome this year as well."
"Oh?" Eirik questioned with another glance at the statuesque gutakvínn. "The Mother has told you the outcome?"
His question awakened something in the woman, her nostrils flared and her eyes shifted to give him a proper look. "No. With the passing of chieftain Murla, and his successor's ideas, the votes to resume the pilgrimage are in firm minority."
"Oh," Eirik intoned, feeling a wash of relief come over him.
"But that is not why I am here. I came for you, as a matter of fact." she continued, and what measure of relief he had felt quickly drained away. "You are good friends with chieftain Torkil, are you not?"
Eirik blinked, glancing up at the winged woman before looking to Torkil weaving slowly through the crowd of children with his staff for support. "I suppose. I've known him for most of my life."
"I'd like to assist the community even if your leaders will not see reason. Perhaps I could lend my knowledge to the children, and prepare them for a life blessed with all the knowledge of the Mother."
"I…" Eirik breathed, thinking through the implications. A generation taught by a messenger of the gods. Whatever his own misgivings, it was an honor. "I'm sure he would love to hear that."
Eirik felt a hand grip down on his shoulder, and he turned his head to find the gutakvínn staring down at him. Her face was stiff and unyielding, a strange contrast to her supernatural and ageless beauty. "I think it would sound even better coming from you, Eirik. You want a prosperous future for your daughter, don't you?" she said, and her lips creased into an inviting smile.
Somehow, Eirik felt like he was being threatened.
Wood clacked loudly against wood, and painful vibrations shot through Ronja’s hand. She drew her wooden weapon back to defend against retaliation, but it was too late. From out of nowhere, a long stick swung at her from the right, and smacked her in the shoulder hard. It was enough to send her stumbling to her knees, suckling a pained breath, while the clacks of wood against wood continued in frenetic symphony around her. At once, a hand extended, Hakon abandoning his position to offer her help up. “Are you alright?” he blurted out quickly, and languished in front of her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I was hitting that hard.”
She looked up at him as she tried to push away the pain that burnt in her arm. His square face made him look older than he was, a weird contrast to the small nubs that poked out of his forehead where his horns should be, despite his already having turned sixteen. He was a full year her senior, yet his horns were that of a newborn. That, along with his robust silhouette broadcast his heritage very clearly. He tried too hard, always said the wrong things, and swung his weapon like a dumb brute.. Still, his doe-eyed stare caught her off-guard as their eyes met, and she glanced away quickly. “I-..Idiot. You’re gonna get us yelled at again.”
Hakon retracted his hand, sighing. “I’m not going to attack you on the ground, Ronja. This… this isn’t a real fight.”
“Then you’ll lose!” she breathed sharply, and swung her weapon towards him. He danced out of the way easily, backing away back to his original position as Ronja clambered up off the ground with as much grace as she could. Her swing took too much out of her, and she nearly stumbled again when she attempted another assault. Her arms weren’t strong enough, her body wasn’t fast enough. At this rate, the Mother’s messenger would never take note of her. The botched display during last fall’s duel competition still lingered fresh in her mind. Aveira had seen her, and had been visibly disinterested. She would learn. She would push harder.
Hakon was a skilled opponent, and the two of them resumed their spar. Ronja knew that she would lose were it not for his faults, but his hesitation and complacency and her drive to succeed seemed to put them on almost equal footing. The clack of wood, sharp breaths and crunch of dirt around her seemed to fall into a rhythm as they danced in their mock battle, the cacophony of youths fighting their pitched battles in teams becoming a melody to follow, together with the mild rain that pitter-pattered around them. So it went for most of the afternoon until the winged watcher, Aveira, called for the proceedings to come to an end.
”Our time today is over. Those of you who excelled today, well done. That is all.” she concluded with the same matter-of-factly tone as she always did. Hakon gave Ronja a sheepish smile and nodded, and she felt compelled to nod back before he hurried off to catch up with his friends. Ronja caught sight of Finni and the other girls among the crowd, and was about to walk off when the presence of the tall avatar became clear. ”Ronja. I’d like to speak to you.”
A flurry of thoughts shot through her mind, fear and panic twisting her ideas before she dared respond. She would have to plead for her chance to remain, no doubt. She opened her mouth to speak but Aveira held up a hand. ”Tomorrow is the next vote for the pilgrimage to resume. I trust you understand now the need for your kind to seek out your destiny.” “..Yes, Mistress. We must seize our chance at the promised land or be destroyed.” Ronja returned quickly, nodding with intent. Her hand gripped firmer around her wooden staff, unsure of what would come next.
”This is the twelfth vote. It should be increasingly clear to all who live here that no consensus to depart shall be made while the current council of chieftains remain in power.”
Ronja paled, watching the tall woman stare back at her with a face that belied the stern warlord she’d hinted at over the years. “So-.. Do… Do we have to-.. Replace them?”
That made the gutakvínn smile. ”Nothing quite so drastic. Power without wisdom is simply brute force. And brute force without reason is, what?”
Ronja wracked her brain, feeling her brow wet with cold sweat. Or perhaps it was just rain. “Uhm. Un-suss-tain-able?”
”Correct,” Aveira chimed in and smiled with a charming and friendly expression wildly contrasted to her usual demeanour. The divine messenger stepped forwards to place a large hand on Ronja’s shoulder. ”It’s time to prepare for a secondary path. I’d like for you to shoulder a new responsibility.”
“M-Me? I’m not-.. I’m not the strongest, though. And.. Finni is as good as me in your classes-...” Ronja argued, though she quickly quieted herself when she realized she was arguing against what she wanted. A churning in her gut built up, butterflies and strange feelings of elation.
”You’ll understand in time, Ronja, that conviction is as important as skill.”
”Behold, the path to your destiny.” Aveira boomed with an unbridled power, her voice carrying on the wind to cow anyone who’d dare question her intent once more. The sky crackled with anger, just as the ocean waves thrashed wildly and frenetically. The agitated water split and fell away, and from the depths rose three large and long ships of dark wood, inscribed with runes and symbols all along the wood. At the end of both aft and fore were large serpentine heads, with gaping maws to herald the power and people they would contain. Large black and red sails rolled from the masts, materialized in a simple show of the gutakvínns power. In short time, Reginsvik had a navy - warships unlike what their own minds could have conjured.
It had taken almost four years to prepare the plan and practice the ways of the sea beyond what her inherent merelli talents had given her, but it was worth it. Ronja stood at the end of their little dock, now wholly insufficient for the large ships that had appeared in the bay at the behest of the divine messenger. Aveira turned towards Ronja and the assembled youths, whipping her hand outwards to will her creative force unto them as well. Their roughspun clothes turned dark, and over their shoulders fell grand black coats of an oily, thick fabric. On their heads helmets of leather and metal materialized, capped with grandiose ram-horns to accentuate their regular horns. She motioned for Ronja to step forwards, and the white-haired girl did so without question. Another of the large coats materialized slowly in Aveira’s hands, this one bulkier, with a wide collar raised protectively. She hung it around Ronja’s shoulders with surprising reverence, and the thick material immediately weighed down heavily on her - fortunately years of martial practice and labor had trained her for this.
”Seize your destiny, children of Reginsvik. Until the day that the pilgrimage resumes, you shall find and prepare the promised land. The blessed peoples of the Mother shall overcome all obstacles. It has been seen.” Aveira shouted with a powerful voice, a beat of her wings bringing her up into the air. Ronja gently touched at the stiff fabric of her new coat, trying her best to remain stoic and push her heady feelings of giddyness down.
“Ronja..” came a voice from the side, quiet and unassuming. It was her mother, watching her with eyes that conveyed none of the pride Ronja had hoped. Instead, she looked scared, worried even.
Ronja frowned, and glanced away. Aveira had warned her of those without conviction, and as she’d grown up she’d realized just how degenerate her parents were. Cowardly, and dishonorable. Seeking safety instead of destiny. But the divine had decreed their success, yet nothing would assuage them. Not even now. Ronja sucked in a breath, trying to keep a level head. “I will find the promised land, Mother, and bring our people to paradise.”
Aveira resurfaces! She's in the north, urging entire tribes of people to enact a great pilgrimage. We follow a single family - Kari, Eirik and baby Ronja - who struggle with the decision to abandon their old home.
Three years later, Kari watches a heated debate unfold as Aveira tries to convince the tribes to keep moving. They like the gathering place too much and put the matter to a vote.
Five years after that, Eirik watches as his daughter and other children of Reginsvik learn to listen to the Worldsong. Aveira interrupts and reveals there's another vote - but she already knows they'll vote to stay. Instead, she coerces Eirik to help her start teaching the children.
Seven years pass, and we find that Ronja is now practicing fighting with the other youths of Reginsvik under the watchful eye of Aveira. Despite Ronjas own misgivings, Aveira scouts her out to clue her in on a secret plan.
Nearly four more years pass, and we jump straight into Aveira’s big reveal in the present day as she conjures ships and cool gear for the residents of Reginsvik. Aveira urges the youths to take up the banner of conquest and supremacy, apparently her plan. Ronja disses her mom.
Reginsvik is now a naval power!
Neiya: 2/5
Mantle of Manifest Destiny - Artifact 3 DP - Promise of Superiority III: (The pride of the wearer bolsters and inspires those around them. As long as those around the wearer can relate to them in some way, they are inspired to greater courage, low fear, and arrogance. The effect is stronger for Merelli, and the wearer's own ideas of species' pride are magnified.) 2 DP - Conqueror's Coat II: (This overcoat is made of thick, durable, fabric impervious to rain, stains and dirt. It provides protection against the elements, and is further lined with stiff black plates that provide protection equal to copper and wood.)
1 MP - Summoned three mighty dragon-head longships.
1 MP - Created black overcoats and ram-horn helmets for the youth of Reginsvik.
Gibbou’s slippers made soft slaps against the cobblestones of Antiquity. Having her sister over was a lot of fun, but occasionally, she needed to get some distance to vent out all that negativity her stories of recent events filled her with - all this mess with Neiya, the berries, the loss of Genesis… It sometimes just got a little too much, even for her. A thought popped into her head - aeons back, she would have given everything to stay with her sister for every second of every hour; now, she at least an hour’s walk to think for herself and just… Well, be alone.
She hoped nothing was wrong with her - why didn’t she worship her sister like she had all those years ago? Was it because Oraelia had appeared so emotional before her? Or had Gibbou herself changed?
While it was likely a bit of both, she decided not to dwell on it much further. She found herself a small bench next to the road and glanced off into the skydome above. How much had she changed since the days of old, huh? Would… Would Adrian recognise her if she woke him up? Dark thoughts returned to memories of that dark vault - the dormitory on the moon in which specimen of all life laid sleeping, doomed forever to dream about all the things that could have been. Gibbou comforted herself through force to think that, if the world ever faced a terrible threat, then maybe those species could be used to reseed the planet with life.
The comfort evaporated as her eyes fixed on a stray bone on the cobbles. She knelt down with a grimace and picked it up.
Thaa…
Really, she should have expected it. Guardian of the dead? God of the afterlife? Someone who spends their days looking after the dead were bound to be cynical. He needed a beanbag and some hot cocoa, she reasoned. He woulda been given it, too, had it not been for, well, his attitude. She pushed aside the circulatory nature of her argument and kept shuffling down the road. ”Dumb-dumb…”
The pressure of dirt pushing between toes with each step was the slightest distraction from her unfiltered anger. Neiya marched with haste through the dizzying yet sparse layout of Antiquity, flexing the white talons of her War Form restlessly as she pushed over the mostly barren roads. She had chosen not to hover for once, intent on saving every bit of her divine power in the righteous vengeance she was to enact on that conniving, hypocritical Life Goddess.
She'd hesitated in the past, worried she'd gone too far. Tried to let her take her lesson and leave her alone. Now she knew the emotions had been a ploy. She'd bided her time and struck at Neiya's pride all at once. Nallan and the Luminant - nothing was sacred. Neiya felt her blood boil as she stormed across portals at a quick pace, manically eyeing each as she searched for the realm of the Life Goddess. She'd arrive unannounced and knock that pleased, smug smirk the goddess was certain to have off of her pretty face.
Yet something felt wrong. With each step, Neiya's courageous rage and fervor filtered through niggling doubts and second-guessing. What if she didn't know the full story? What if she was playing right into her hands? What if Oraelia expected her to arrive, and sat ready to pay her back in kind for hurting her the last time they met? That thought - which Neiya refused to consider a nugget of guilt - grew like an acorn in her belly, a stone of her own making weighing her fury down
When the Goddess of Love, War and Sin finally stood a stone's throw from the portal she understood to be Oraelia's, it was without the anger with which she had travelled there. She stared at the portal intently, feeling the itch and drive to pay her back with force. Put her in her place. Uncertainty ruled for a few moments, before Neiya cut through her own tension with a scoff and turned on the balls of her feet. She wouldn't play into Oraelia's schemes so easily. Yes, that was it. Neiya was too good, too smart, to fall for such simple provocations. Stiffly she wandered away from the portal, staring into the ground.
Neiya walked aimlessly through Antiquity, trying to make sense of her own thoughts. A frustration boiled inside her, yet she certainly couldn't go back now. The moment was gone. Sullenly, she kicked a rock across the road with her bare feet, stumbling ahead with a sharp sigh.
There came a sharp gasp. A shuffle of fabric against stone halted behind her, and there came a voice like a growl in the darkness. ”You!”
Neiya stopped dead in her tracks, suffering the soft crunch of dirt under her feet as she narrowed her eyes. She knew that voice, didn't she? Neiya spun around to lay eyes on the source of the voice, flexing her white talons.
There, on the opposite end of the cobblestone road, stood Gibbou, her breaths deep and quivering with rage. Her lunar white eyes fiercely contrasted her skin as it darkened deeper and deeper, furious tears of shadow welling up atop her cheeks. Her fists tightened together as though the fingers sought to pierce her palms. ”Why are -you- here?”
Neiya's pearl-white skin flushed with a furious burn as her eyes narrowed further. Her gaze slid around the area, paranoia nipping at the back of her mind, but ultimately being silenced when she regarded the moon goddess properly. "Hello, Gibbou." she crooned with a venomous voice. "I have a lot to thank you for."
”Don’t give me that!” thundered the moon goddess back, moon light warping and twisting in a halo behind her. ”Had this been a normal meeting, I would already have had a bone to pick with you for your outright bitchy behaviour last time… But when I heard you hurt my sister?” The moon light intensified like a supernova. ”You’ve long since crossed the line - it’s time to kick you back to the other side.”
Neiya offered a full on smirk; a vicious and unpleasant expression full of frustrated excitement. Hands falling open, talons curling up in ready motion. "Oh, honey, you picked the greatest time," she rolled out with a sultry, condescending tone. Metallic shards and edges around her form came alive, floating and twisting angrily in the air right around her skin. "I was going to finish the job, but I'll settle for pulling the Moon out of orbit."
The white-hot moonlight spun itself into thread, twisting out of its halo to bind around Gibbou’s skin. As it settled, it hardened into silvery steel, covering her from head to toe. Her shoulders sprouted great pauldrons from which draped a long cloak covering her whole body below the neck like a curtain. The ceremonial blades on the shoulderpads glistened sharply in the dim light of Antiquity, and the moon goddess scowled through the thick visor of her plumed helmet. ”Try me, bitch.”
That was all the coaxing the alleged love goddess needed, and Neiya burst from her spot with uncharacteristically swift speed, sending dirt and gravel spraying from sudden force. "You think a few accessories will help you, Gibbou?" She growled in her charge, a talon lifted in preparation as she flew over the unassuming dirt path in Antiquity. Around her, jagged edges of metal twisted and aligned around her wrist, like a tangle of metal snakes ready to bite. "Let me show you what I've learned since last time!" the goddess cried with a strange mixture of venom and delight, and slashed towards the Moon Goddess as she closed the distance, talons and sharp metal both swept against Gibbou.
Upon impact, however, the talons snapped, splintering into shards that flew across the battlefield and dug reflective debris into the dirt as they landed. Neiya roared with a ferocity that suggested the impact hurt her more than it did the Moon Goddess. Despite her initial assault being an abject failure, Neiya did not relent. The collar of her dress around her head arced upwards to free itself and swung like a blade against Gibbou. That too shattered in a spray of metal. Gibbou snickered.
”What, is that the best you can do? I didn’t even feel that!” She retracted her left fist, her gauntlet growing spikes on the knuckles, and then sent it torpedoing forward towards her abdomen. Neiya gasped in surprise as she realized the opening in her own defenses. However, where a painful sensation of a fist should have been felt, there was instead a rush of air as Gibbou’s fist missed - by several centimetres. The moon goddess’ footing appeared unstable, and the momentum invested into the strike tossed her forward at least a metre, if not more.
Silence struck for a moment, as only the crunch of dirt under Gibbou's boots filled the air. Then Neiya cracked into a haunting chuckle surprisingly full of mirth - and mockery. "Oh, my sweet moon. Will you be ever distant?" she crooned with a mocking tone, before skipping through the air soundlessly to swipe a quick grip on Gibbou's shoulder. Her other fist clenched, and swung hard straight for the goddess head. Her white struck the helmet with a loud clang, and Neiya immediately recoiled; her face locked in a face of relentless pain as she nursed her hand.
”Sh-shut up!” came a fierce retort as the moon goddess enlarged her gauntlet to the size of a cannon ball. She wound it back and propelled it forward again, hoping to take advantage of Neiya’s pained lapse in focus. However, her fist’s added weight once again challenged her ability to balance herself, and her straight punch quickly became a downward hammer, only that it had been aimed too low for that. Her fist dunked against the ground and the moon goddess needed a moment to pick it back up. ”Oh, come oooon!”
Neiya recovered from her own lapse in both tactics and opportunity with all the speed of a particularly tired tortoise, seeming to be at first more interested in maintaining both balance and the poise that made her haughty veneer possible during a brawl. As such, she wasted almost the entirety of Gibbou's recovery on preening a broken talon. When the moon goddess rose in shape before her, the duplicitous Neiya launched back into her offensive with a rancorous frown, diving towards Gibbou once more to grab onto the sturdy frame with a fierce grip. "Oh, let me help you -- up!" Feet dug into the ground for the first time since the start of the fight, and with all her divine strength she tried to hurl the Moon Goddess in the direction of the nearest wall. But Gibbou didn't move much, if at all. Gibbou frantically waved at her with her free hand, slapping wetly at Neiya’s face.
”G-get your hands off me! Stop!” In a shift of divine power, she shrunk her fist and was immediately tossed into the wall. The wall tumbled together like a pile of rocks, the building it supported crashing down with it. However, Gibbou was undeterred and undamaged, grabbing at Neiya’s arms holding her and trying to toss her over her own shoulder. That went about as well as her previous attacks, and all she managed to do was hug Neiya close and lift her slightly, before her cumbersome armour caused her to fall backwards onto her back, dragging Neiya with her.
The love goddess went from an angered snarl to a sudden gasp as her footing was stolen, and crashed down softly with Gibbou, safe from danger and injury in her snug hold. A brief awkward pause followed as both of the two fighters tried to process what just occurred. Being quick to adapt, Neiya adopted a conspiratorial smirk and wriggled theatrically in Gibbou's grip. Her pale and sleek war form grew more and more pink with each passing moment, black horns raising from her head and her features twisting into the inviting and decidedly more curvaceous silhouette that was her corruptive sin form. "Oh, Moon Above," she crooned as her form pushed against armor. "You should have told me this is what you wanted."
Frustration bleached her voice as Gibbou whined and squirmed loose. ”No! Get off me!” Her armour blasted off of her like shrapnel and her small form morphed into the shadows, which all were growing at an alarming rate as though the light of Antiquity had decided it was night time. Two bloodshot eyes was all that indicated Gibbou’s presence, and they were glaring down at the demoness a pace or so away. ”You’re unbelievable - I don’t want anything like that, especially not from you! The only thing I want from you is your cry for mercy!” A spike of shadow shot out of the darkness and pierced the ground next to Neiya. There came a frustrated groan. ”Fuck! Why is this so hard?!”
Neiya sat still for a moment, processing what had just happened as she lounged on the ground where Gibbou had been. Moments later, she burst into a dramatic gasp, raising her nails to touch at her chest as though she were clutching at her heart. "Augh! You got me! You found my weakness, oh goddess of the moon; being slightly surprised!" She panned the back of her hand up to lay flat against her horned forehead. "Mercy, please!" She cried with insidious, and needlessly sweet tone.
Another bolt of darkness blasted out of the shadows, shooting past her once again like an amateurishly thrown rock. ”Shut up! This isn’t funny! This isn’t supposed to -be- funny! Just, just leave me and my sister alone, or I’ll--!” The darkness faltered, dimished, even, as the blood-shot eyes took on their softer, chalky colour and eventually grew a blue-skinned face around them with midnight hair, attached to a body that couldn’t seem to carry itself with joy and pride anymore. ”Why can’t I do anything right?”
A single beat of leathery wings brought Neiya up off the dirt path upon which their alleged battle had taken place, and back to her confident hover above the ground. She regarded Gibbou with a mixture of fascination and contemptuous pleasure, much like a feline toying with prey. Almost as if pulled towards the wavering goddess, Neiya drifted toward Gibbou, fingers flexing but still not as offensive as before. "War and sin are as inevitable as sorrow. Don't take it personally, my sweet. You can still apologize." she crooned haughtily from the air.
”Apologise for what? I’m just trying to protect my sister and, and… And why is that so hard for me? Why can’t I hit you?” She wound up a right hook and sent it forward. It struck air, for Neiya was nowhere close. ”I didn’t even try…” Her knees softened to the point where they could no longer support her, and the small moon goddess slumped down, sniffing weakly.
The 'Love' Goddess released a soft scoff, watching Gibbou sink to the ground. Her own expression seemed to fall back to frustration at her own apparent victory, but that didn't stop her from hovering closer. Her hand stretched out slowly, seeking to place a ginger touch on the moon goddess shoulder as she dared herself closer. "So much potential… So much wasted." she breathed, golden eyes flitting greedily between watching Gibbou's reaction and their surroundings. "All for someone else. Who ever cares for the Moon, hm?"
Gibbou looked up with white-hot eyes of hate, then softly placed her hand on Neiya’s. The grip tightened, and Gibbou cracked a small smile. ”Got you.” Then she pulled Neiya towards herself, gloved her opposite hand in spiked metal and rammed it into her abdomen in a strike that would be downright impossible to miss.
Neiya gasped in surprise, her arm instantly straining against Gibbou's hold. It was too late. The moon goddess fist connected with the sleek form of the corrupting love goddess, who could neither move away nor absorb the hit with that metallic coating she had had previously to changing her form. The air seemed to leave her and she whirled violently in Gibbou's grip, flung backwards in her airborne and vulnerable state. All that left her was a timid whimper, wholly uncharacteristic. Gibbou didn’t waste her chance - she put her whole might into grabbing the love goddess by her arm and, switching her momentum around, tossed her over her shoulder and into the ground, shattering the stone flooring. She pulled back, panting heavily. ”I may not be fast enough to, to catch you, but…” She heaved for breath. ”... But if you do that job for me, I’m stronger!”
The love goddess lay splayed on the cracked ground, a deep indent splitting flagstones in half where stone had met divine flesh. Golden eyes stared upwards frantically, her chest heaving to pull ragged breaths. She wheezed a few sounds that eventually formed words. "H--... H… How.. da-dare… you…" Another sharp breath as the goddess collected herself, her voice rising several hundred decibels. "How dare you!? You disgusting degenerate failure! Indignant thankless worm!" she screamed at full volume, her eyes filling with a dark swirl that seemed to dim their dubious golden glow. Her hands smacked against stone in a furious tantrum, and wisps of black energy shot out against the stone in erratic patterns. "How dare you touch me?!" she roared, and lifted herself up off the ground slowly to resume what she imagined was an imposing hover.
Gibbou entombed herself in armour plates to deflect the blasts, and pained screams rang out from within the unbreakable metal. She was evidently reaching the limit of her stamina. As her metal chrysalis broke, she stood in her full body armour, visor up, but had nothing left of the proud, powerful stance she had opened with. She hissed through her panting and hammered one metallic fist into an iron palm. ”That… That the best you’ve got?”
Neiya screamed in frustration at the sight of the cocoon of metal that was Gibbou. Wild and without the original poise and grace with which she had conducted herself. "S-Shut up! Just shut up! You and your sister can both just- just die!" she wailed, and raised her hands towards the armoured goddess. A torrent of black matter streamed from her hands and arms, like a swift moving fog twisting and coiling to spray forwards with the force of a tidal wave. With it came a cacophony; wailing, crying, screaming, pleading - the many emotions of the world beyond weaponized.
The moon goddess collapsed to her knees, the sound only intensified throughout the armour. Her own screaming was deafened completely by the storm of noise, and she ended up pulling her helmet off, lobbing it at Neiya without really looking where she was throwing, her black hair rolling down over her shoulders in a mess of stressed strands. She grit her teeth together and bumped her forehead to the ground, hoping some physical pain to the skull would alleviate the agonising storm in her head.
The storm twisted away from her in a violent jerk, the energies scoring deep marks in the stone and dirt alike. Soon after the energies dissolved into the air, the intense sounds of the beyond vanishing into nothingness. Neiya had been destabilized, nursing her head with both hands. Looking somewhere between ready to burst into tears and in pain herself, the goddess struggled in the air for a few moments before her wings began beating, carrying her further up into the air. The helmet lay directly beneath her, innocently rolled to a stop on the cracked stone.
With the rustle of chainmail and plate, the moon goddess below her slumped onto her belly, broken to the point of exhaustion by the attack. Her eyes were closed fiercely as though she was suffering a headache, and her heavy breathing had weakened into short, pleading gasps for air. She hardly moved, her armour looking as much like a prison as protection.
Though the moon goddess exhausted form appeared to be the perfect target, it seemed Neiya's taste for violence had abated. The bruised love goddess ascended higher in antiquity until she broke away entirely, wavering in flight as she made a straight beeline towards her own distant portal. For better or worse, Neiya was gone.
It took Gibbou hours to regain consciousness. When she did, she could barely haul herself to her feet. She had defeated Neiya and-... No, no, she hadn’t even been close. She had survived Neiya, more like. Gibbou punched the ground weakly in anger and regret, aimed mainly at herself. Why… Why was she so utterly useless? She had only gotten her opening because Neiya got careless - she had just barely been able to conceal her surprise by looking cool and in control in the moment. She had had no idea what she was doing for that whole fight. She had just tried to mimic the way she had seen mortals fight and she had failed - extraordinarily.
Eventually, she reached her portal, which she fell through rather than stepped. Once she laid safely on the moon’s surface, she felt her eyes well up. ”I’m such useless trash…” she whispered to herself. With a weak hand movement, she conjured forth a bottle with a strong smell. She gave it a swig and cringed.
”I’m hopeless,” she continued and drank some more.
Gibbou and Neiya fight. Neiya cannot pierce Gibbou’s ultimate shield, but Gibbou cannot fight for shit, so Neiya isn’t actually hit once. That is until she gets hubristic and goes to console Gibs like a bitch when Gibs gets depressed at her own uselessness. Gibs uses this to slam Neiya into the ground, but then Neiya super-blasts her and knocks her out. By that point, though, fighting isn’t fun anymore, so Neiya goes home. Gibs wakes up hours later and goes home to sulk and drink.
Neiya: 2/3
1 DP - Unleashed a torrent of sad girl energy and bad vibes. End: 2/2
The goat pen shed had a certain air of dread emanating from it. Farah had never noticed it before, but back then it had never housed anything but goats, either, save for the occasional boy or girl exiled from the dormitory for a night. Now that it hosted a whole crew of violent thugs, and four slaves under their thrall, it seemed to radiate a certain malice, encroaching on the peace of nearby sheds and the rest of the community with its mere presence. She could see movement between the spaces of the planks. Heard gruff voices in the distance. Farah reached for support as she waited, and looked to her right as a calloused hand gripped hers.
Adnan’s eyes met hers, and he smiled as much as his injured face could muster. It was enough to steady her nerves, and Farah felt her own lips crease into an unbidden smile. Despite his nose having buckled under the pressure of confrontation, and his skin around the breakage being red and angry, he was as handsome as ever. If anything, the damage made him look rugged, although she’d never say such a silly thing. Adnan stared at her as well, content to forget the scene and shed they had both been watching from afar. His lips parted as if to speak, when a sudden force pushed against Farah’s back. The heat and weight of another. Arms wrapping over her shoulders. A brief shock, alleviated as she heard Aisha’s voice. “Farah, this is so exciting! What do you think they’re talking about in there?”
Farah exhaled sharply, her smile growing. Adnan chuckled as well, but released her hand to let her struggle with Aisha on her own, using his hand to gingerly touch at his nose instead. She tried to throw off her excited friend, but it was no use; Aisha clung on tight, as usual. ”Well,” Farah surrendered at last, drawing her gaze away from Adnan to glance back at the shed properly. ”If anyone can make them see reason, it’s Matron Nasira. I’ve never seen anyone win an argument with her.”
“True, true.” Aisha said, and Farah felt her lay her head against Farah’s. “Hi, Adnan! How’s the nose? You should know better than to swing at outsiders.”
”Aisha-...” Farah protested, though could not stop herself from smirking just a little. She glanced back to Adnan, and he seemed to be taking it in stride, a big smile playing on his lips.
“You’re right, Aisha. I got myself in trouble. Patron Abbas gave me a real earful for it, too.” Adnan explained with considerable calm, his gaze fixed on the shed in the distance. Aisha, meanwhile, bobbed a straw of sungrass in front of his face. Farah felt compelled to do her part, and batted her hand down. “I can’t help it. What they are doing to those people. That’s how I ended up in Karay, in the first place. I don’t want to imagine what they’ve gone through.” he continued, and his smile vanished into the ether, replaced with a wistful sorrow. Farah frowned to herself, and gazed back at the shed. Those men had said all manner of wicked things, and had done worse. Farah could barely imagine what Adnan saw in his mind, beyond her own memories of youth. Even those were vague at best. Whatever Karay was like, it didn’t sound like anything like what she knew. That much she had gathered from asking others over the years.
“Don’t worry, Adnan,” Aisha intoned quickly, and reached a hand up to tussle Farah’s hair gently, eliciting a quiet chuckle from her. “You saw Oraliyah’s light. They did too. No chance they will try anything after that. If they do, Farah will call on Oraliyah and the sun will teach them a proper lesson.”
Adnan offered a hum of agreement and smiled still, and Farah snickered quietly. Within, she felt a strange stone in her gut. She didn’t know why Oraliyah had chosen her. Could she call on her? What if all this was some kind of test? What if it was a trick? Yazmina had all kinds of stories about witches and their trickery. But the feeling she had felt, in that moment. That had felt real. Different. Unlike anything on Galbar that she knew. She still felt it somewhere deep within. Oraliyah still graced her with her presence. Perhaps she never left? Farah glanced up at the sky, trying her best to look at the sun without actually looking at it. Everyone knew Oraliyah was too beautiful to look at without being blinded, even children.
Her thoughts were broken by the sound of beads rattling against each other, as the Matron ducked out of the shed, finished with her talks. The old woman barreled out of the pen with determined steps, her face locked in an angry frown. She never looked particularly happy, but it was easy to tell that something was bothering her. Farah felt Aisha slowly let go and ease away, and within moments she had filed in between Farah and Adnan. Two of the others who had lounged nearby quickly scuttled away when they caught sight of the matron. Farah too felt her legs itch with an urge to walk away, but it was too late. Matron Nasira had seen the three of them the moment she stepped outside.
She was in front of them in an instant, her face enough to call on the sky to shield the sun behind dark clouds. She gave Farah a look that evaporated all joy, and replaced it with a feeling of disquiet. “They demand to speak with you, Farah,” the matron spoke through gritted teeth. “These brutes will not leave until we show them the miracle child.”
Farah tried her best to breathe, but the knot in her stomach seemed to make it hard to get a steady breath of air. They wanted to see her? Why?
Before she could ask, Adnan stepped in with his own question. “Matron Nasira? What about those people they are holding captive? They have been in there for a full day now.”
The matron glanced towards Adnan, and her demeanour almost immediately shifted. Her wrinkled features softened, a small, empathetic smile playing on her lips. She extended a hand to gently pat Adnan on the cheek as she spoke. “Oh, my dear. We cannot be saviors for everyone. These barbarians will not see reason, I’m afraid. Not all men are as virtuous as those on our farm.”
Adnan protested, but Farah could not hear it. In her mind whirled a tumultuous flurry of thoughts, drowning out much of the world around her. She felt a growing dread build around her heart, and the shed seemed to grow in the distance, the movement between the boards an eldritch, predatory hint of what dangers lurked on the other side. Barbarians. Slavers. Killers. Thieves. What if they tried something? She had been told her entire life to stay away from outsiders, and now they wanted her to go in there? It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t natural. ”Why me?” she questioned meekly, feeling the shame in her own words. ”I don’t think there’s anything I can do that you can’t, Matron.”
Matron Nasira was back on her in seconds, and her hand lashed out to clap Farah on the cheek in the same way she’d lectured her since she was a child. It burned the same way as then, and Farah sunk her eyes to the ground, her shame growing. “Stupid child. Oraliyah comes down from above to bathe you in her light, and you are still trying to escape your duties? Does your laziness know no bounds?” the matron growled with the same venom she’d had when she found them playing in the field when they were twelve. Aisha tried to protest, but the matron cut her off with a simple shush before continuing. “These men are invaders, and fortunately for us, even barbarians respect the sun goddess. They have asked for your presence to appease their spiritual needs. If that is what it takes for them to finally leave, then so be it.”
Everything was wrong. The very words the matron said disgusted her. Filled her head with strange, unpleasant worries about what the men with weapons would say and do. She had heard her share of horror stories from others about what outsiders were like. Only now did she begin to believe them. She wanted to argue, to tell the Matron that she would not do it. But Oraliyah had shone her light on her for a reason. Right?
“Go now, do not make us wait. Do not worry, child, we are right here.” the matron intoned with a hastened voice. Farah breathed a shaky breath, and felt Aisha touch her shoulder and drift down along her arm as Farah stepped away, head held low. She watched the goat pen shed loom closer with each step, and gently took a step over the low fence. A few more steps, and she heard voices coming from inside. It was enough to give her pause, as the roil in her gut seemed to make itself known again. The Matron said it would be fine. That had to count for something. Right? Farah took another few steps, and stepped through the rattling barrier of string and beads.
The view inside was unpleasant at best. The band of ruffians had assembled on the far side of a bit of fencing, and had pushed their captives into the corner amidst a few distressed goats bleating uncertainly but all the same refusing to skip outside. The stink of goat and old grass was overpowered by the smell of sweat, alcohol and refuse. In mere hours, they had made the shed theirs in every way, and it sent a ripple of disgust down Farah's spine. Their eyes locked on her the moment she stepped inside, and Farah fought the urge to just stop and run back out. Their gazes wandered over her simple dress in strange ways, and their eyes were hard and unpleasant. These were wild men, she reminded herself. Different from those who lived here. Her own gaze fell on one of the corners, where the slaves they had brought with them sat huddled. They looked dirty, scared and weak. A wrenching feeling in her gut followed. How mistreated they were. Like poorly cared for animals. It made her sick inside.
"Done starin'?" a gravelly voice rumbled at her, jolting Farah out of her thoughts. The old man that had hurt and threatened them not many hours ago stared at her from the middle of the shed, and Farah averted her eyes with equal dread and disgust.
"You wished to see me," Farah breathed, trying her best to sound fierce and strong, and ignore the weakness in her limbs. "I am here, now look quickly and go."
The old man broke into a chuckle, which caused a ripple of snickers among his traveling troupe of troublemakers. "I'd expect nothin' but fire from Oraliyah's champion, eh. Tha's fair." He concluded, scratching at his chin as his gaze roamed over Farah. "Now, see, yer old crone won't hear reason, so I suppose we'll leave all ye to the wolves. All we want is a blessin' afore we go. From Oraliyah's champion."
Leave them to the wolves? Farah ruminated as best she could under the circumstances until his request clicked in her head, and her head spiralled with what strange ideas they may demand with such a vague request. A stone filled her gut once more. Why had the Matron sent her in here? Did she hate her so much? She cleared her throat and glanced at the old, disheveled man. "...Bless you? In what… in what world would I bless you?" she asked with a little too much fire, and saw the frown building on their faces. She drew a long breath, finding the huddled slaves in the corner looking at her. Before the old man got any new ideas, Farah steeled herself and stepped forwards to continue, gesturing towards the slaves. "Even if I had the power to bless any woman or man, what possessed you to think, even in jest, that you are worthy of such? You who keep fellow people as animals on a leash, terrified and cowed? Oraliyah's light shines on the kind, the warm of heart, and the weak." she reprimanded swiftly. The man began a reply but Farah felt her fire return. She continued, raising her voice to cut him off. "Yet all of you come here with grins and malice and expect the goddess to smile on you. After what you have done, to us here, to Adnan outside, to these chained people. Have you no shame?"
A strange feeling rippled through her as she finished speaking. Silence reigned in the shed as the men seemed stunned by her angered response. Then it was as though a dam burst. One of the men broke into sobs, falling to his knees and clutching his head. Another stared at one of the slaves with guilt in his eyes before it became too much for him and he vomited onto the hay-covered dirt below. The old man gripped a nearby wooden panel shakily, breathing heavy and unsteady breaths as his companions all burst into tears, sobs, and anguished cries. Farah stepped back in shock. Had she cursed them somehow? She'd never seen men act anything like this.
"Yer… yer right. I-... I've done so much," the man began with a wavering voice, intoned by a chorus of sobs from his companions. "It was tae survive.. always tae survive… tha's what I told meself... Oraliyah… Forgive me.." His gaze rose, and he looked up at Farah with pained, guilt-ridden eyes. In that moment, Farah felt as though he would have leapt from a cliff if he could. His look of abject defeat touched her deep inside, and she realized the other men appeared to be as deeply disturbed as he. This wasn't normal. Was Oraliyah with her right now?
Farah breathed an unsteady breath of her own, and took a two steps forwards to close the gap between her and the old man in the shed. Cautiously she extended a hand, and laid it gently on his shoulder as solemn comfort. He seemed to melt into it, gently leaning against her hand lightly. Then he too burst into tears. Farah stepped closer yet, pulling the much older man against her into a comforting embrace. Her own anger had washed away, and before these humbled men she felt almost maternal. The man cried into her hug as others sobbed, fell together, or quietly recovered in the case of one man. He who recovered looked at the gathered slaves with a growing distaste on his features, then simply wandered over to undo their bonds. One of the captives ran out immediately, while the others remained together. "I'm so sorry…" the man murmured, and Farah shushed him quietly.
"It's never too late to improve. Never too late to be an honest man. If you know what you have done is wrong, then you also know how you must change." she murmured quietly, echoing the words of her bed- and field mates rather than the Matron. Nasira would say a person never changes, but this was surely proof of the opposite. He nodded slowly, and she continued to nurse him for a while before stepping away to allow the man to recover. "You said you would leave us to the wolves. What did you mean?"
The man sighed quietly, and even that admission seemed to hit him with a pang of guilt. "Karay is leaderless. The richest are about tae war with each other for power. Yer farm had a deal with Karay. Food for protection, and new blood. Tha's all gone now. More-... more slavers will be coming this way."
A chill ran down her spine, the implications of his words settling in quite neatly. Suddenly what she had overheard before began to make sense as well. It all led to what she had feared when she had first spotted these men walking on the horizon; the farm was no longer safe.
"But-... there'll be a new leader. A new.. a new deal can be made." she pressed. Even in his humbled state her question provoked only a simple shrug, tired and weary.
"Maybe," he conceded quietly. "I guess all that' depends on findin' someone as sly as the last feller. He was keepin' the market together with nothin' but willpower and brute force."
"Then we must act swiftly," Farah concluded. The Matron would surely agree. "Someone will see reason. Our farm provides food for many mouths. It is a valuable thing to protect." Somewhere deep inside she resented her own words. She knew what she was proposing.
"...Ye mean to go?"
"If the Matron won't, I… I will."
"Please, champion-.." the old man began anew, capturing her attention. He reached for her, before thinking better of himself. Instead he sank to the dirty ground in the shed, prostrating himself before her on both knees in a deep bow. He was promptly joined by his comrades who filed up alongside him in an awkward line in the tiny space. "Let me… let us serve and protect Oraliyah's champion. As penance for me worthless life. I… ye have shown me the blackness of me soul. I know nae wha' else tae do."
Farah breathed a deep breath, watching the men. To her surprise, two of the remaining slaves had joined them, apparently begging her mercy. It made her feel like a fool, and she felt her cheeks burn. "My name is Farah. What you do… what you do is your own choice." she offered and nodded firmly.
They too nodded, and looked up at her as though she had affirmed their service. Farah lifted a hand to scratch at her neck, but stopped halfway when the crowd interpreted her motion as a gesture to rise. She breathed uncertainly.
"...You all must be hungry. Come. We should all eat." she said after a moment of hesitation and offered a small smile. That smile too, spread like wildfire.
Farah worries about what the dangerous men that came to the farm are like, and ruminates over what transpired. The matron returns from a negotiation, and demands Farah take over because of Oraelia's blessing. Farah reluctantly complies, and once more meets the traveling crooks from the last post. She learns about Karay and the Farm being in danger, and decides to go to Karay with the men, who pledge themselves to Oraelia's "champion".
Frettzo
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