Down in the Gardens, a wind blew warm across the land, bringing with it the tides of change. Oraelia knew the suffering that went on here and thus she created from the land, a large cathedral hewn from the rock. It stood tall, supported by tall trees and flowing gardens. It would be a place of healing and warmth, where those who sought to be comforted from horrors could go to find peace. Oraelia knew that the machinations of her peers were ever moving and thus, she made another change to the design, for in it she wanted mortals to be taught to confront their fears and to control their powers, if the need ever arose. She then erected walls and defences invisible to the eye and put into that place her very heart so that all might be loved in her embrace.
Yet, it remained empty.
She took a deep breath and spread her hands across the good green soil of the Gardens, sowing new seeds that would come to grow within the bodies of hopeful mothers. These children would be destined to heal the people of the land, and inhabit the Cathedral. In time they would grow to know its greatness.
Knowing still that the Cathedral would sit empty for years, she decided to entrust it’s protection and that of the land to the nearest family. There was nothing special about them, nothing that defined their presence but the courage to do what was right. She asked and they did so out of genuine want and thus, Oraelia parted with them with a gift.
They were known as the Omun.
The scouts had returned bringing grave news. The humani were marshalling forces on all sides, making a march for Ha Duna. Not much had been heard from the city, besides a few rumors from the many pilgrims who sought the gift of the statuette. The many fears of the Sun’s Daughter had come to fruition. They had tried to seek peace with the surrounding towns and villages, starting small, hoping to work their way up but they had been too slow. Now the host of the Oraeliari within the Caisteal Na Grèine, were preparing for war. Pilgrims were made to take shelter and those tending the surroundings lands were brought in for protection or sent home.
Spears were forged, blades were made anew, arrows were fletched and bows were strung. With the help from Lucia and Sanya, armor was crafted in the visage of the sun. From their inner forges, they produced that which could protect like never before. Plate that mimicked the gift of the Goddess. It was not as strong but the likes of it had never been seen before. It was an advancement of the ages but one used in the horrors of war. They were no stranger to that beast. They knew of its pain and suffering but they did not shy away from the task at hand.
The cardinals stood tall, beacons of hope in a tide of crushing dark. Even still, Lucia and Sanya stood taller still. Living embodiments of the mother’s will, brought forth to bring about a lasting peace. Even if it had to be forged with a heavy heart. They would set out soon, in an attempt to save that land from it’s own vices, from more needless pain.
Solus watched from where he stood in the courtyard. Silent but resolute. He had returned from the far west, preventing those who sought conquest upon the dunalands. But he had failed to look to the east and now what approached was a deep breath before the plunge.
Lucia and Sanya walked to him and he knelt down. Both held their helmets under the arms, while the darker haired woman carried her spear in the other. With a look of doubt, Lucia bowed before him.
”Mighty Solus. I wish we could have met under better circumstances. It seems the mortals here have a penchant for starting wars over something or another. I wish it were not so. I thought we were going to do better but the conflict that is brewing is testament to that failure. But I digress. How are you doing? Was the trip west uneventful?” She asked in a voice that reminded the avatar of his mother. In fact, no one had ever asked him how he was doing and Solus did not know how to react.
“You…” He began in a deep, but soft voice. “Remind me… Of her… Mother.” The avatar took a pause. “The West… Is secure. Saved from… Warlords and… False gods. Here is… No different… You all will… Save them… From… Themselves. You… Must. I will… Help.”
Lucia nodded, a look of relief washing over her face. ”It does me good to hear that, Solus. I am glad you are well and unharmed from your trip. I can’t imagine dealing with all that but you did and we thank you for it. We plan on leaving for Ha Duna shortly once the final preparations are made. If all goes well, we can prevent anything from happening before it gets out of hand. Let’s hope that there is no trickery afoot from other, less civil, gods. As it stands, anything could happen and we have to keep our eyes open. Having you at our side will put all of us at ease. So, thank you, Solus.” she flashed a smile and jabbed Sanya, who also gave her thanks.
Solus stood and remained silent for a time. “War… Never changes. We will… Do… What we…” A presence came snaking in on the winds and the avatar turned his attention up and behind them. His perception scanning the skies for that which was unseen by mortal eyes. There. He found it… No… He found her… Flying so high above.
His voice was no longer soft. “She… Flies… Up above... My old… Enemy. A viper… A stain… Lucia… Sanya… Aveira… Has come. Protect… I must. Mother… Would… Want that… Thank you… For kind… Words… Aveira must… Be… Destroyed. Goodbye… Daughters… of the… Sun.” He took off into the air as Aveira made her approach.
Behind him, Lucia cried out for him to stop but Solus was resolute in his charge. Aveira could not be allowed to meddle in the affairs here. Another Luminant… Was not needed. It was time for her to face judgement.
Oraelia does some stuff in the Gardens, location pending. Then we see what the Oraeliari and Luciya have been up to in Ha Duna. Solus feels an old presence and goes to fight it.
Holy Site - Cathedral of Light
-1DP (Compassion) Oraliyah’s Embrace I - Those who venture into this Holy Site’s hallowed grounds feel the warmth and touch of the Goddess Oraliyah. Aggression dissipates, anger washes away and a sense of serenity overcomes those most out of sorts. -1DP (Healing) Healing Baths I - Within the confines of this Cathedral, there are fountains that contain the healing waters of the goddess. The longer one submerges in these waters, the more they are healed from their physical ailments. -1MP Large Stone I - This Cathedral is very tall and wide, perhaps bigger then what most mortals can achieve currently. -1MP The training Ground I - There is a special area within the Cathedral that acts as a place for those wishing to train themselves and others. The area itself is more of a large courtyard and is one of the only places in the Cathedral where combat is permitted. One of the more supernatural rooms of the Cathedral, as the area never seems to run out of training dummies and targets. -1DP (Punishment) Hallowed Ground I - The ground that the Cathedral sits upon is protected by the Goddess. Acts of aggression, of harm, of hatred and of war, are not tolerated here. If any such transgression were to pass, the Cathedral will trap offenders in a prison of light. This prison is only a temporary thing, allowing time for other defenses to arrive. 2 Free Titles (Sunlight) Solar Guardians II - The Cathedral can summon forth physical constructs of light in the form of tall beings with mighty armor and blazing swords. There are only a handful of these beings but they will protect the Cathedral at any cost.
-2DP Golden Generation. Oraelia sowed the seeds for a generation of those who have an affinity for the natural healing energies of the world. These mortals are able to heal minor wounds of others by themselves and working together, can even heal those gravely injured. They have a natural pull to the Cathedral of Light in order to house and staff it.
Holy Order - Coven of Omun
-2MP Light Bearers II - Coven members can wield the magics of light in the form of strands, barriers, and shields. This light can be any color and strength varies. Such light, when channelled together, becomes permanent but not infallible. This magic is more defensive in nature, meant to subdue.
-1MP Light Constructors I - Molded by the Cathedral in style, members of the coven can create small constructs of light. They can physically interact with the world and can be used for a variety of applications. When brought forth by a member, they become attuned to their summoner and they know where they are. They can also look through their eyes but if their construct dissipates when doing so, their eyesight is lost.
⅖ Justice ⅖ Repentance ⅗ Punishment
Lucia: 60 Prestige
Lucia -10 major tech shift (Solar forged armor, tough as iron)
He did not dream. Instead, Zayd woke with a jolt, feeling a mix of betrayal and sadness. He looked around but she was gone. Not even the coals of the fire were smoldering. How long had he been asleep? Zayd got to his feet, moving his arms in a circle and stretching them out. He was amazed that they felt fine, maybe a little sore but by all accounts he should have lost them. Even his chest… Where was his shirt?
After a quick sweep, he found his belongings and… A small pile of berries. He frowned and then his stomach grumbled. He was hungry, and thirsty. Not one to let food go to waste, he took the berries and began to eat them as he looked for the old sword. He found it sitting against the rock wall, still coated with black blood. He touched it, feeling the dry texture and how smooth it was. There was something very strange to it, unnatural as the beasts had been. He looked around for their corpses but could only find two black spots on the ground. Had they burned away to nothing?
He shook his head and made the for exit. A cool breeze was blowing the scent of early spring, that wonderful aroma of budding flowers and growing grasses. The light was near midday, just enough for him to cover his eyes so that they might adjust. Had the light always been so blinding, he wondered, stepping out and making his way up the vines. He would need to get home quickly, as he was sure his family were worried for him and he did not know for how long he had been sleeping.
Once he reached the top he finished off the last of the berries and made a quick stop at a nearby stream to drink some of the water. It was pleasant and he drank his fill, washing his face of grime and dirt before continuing on. He tied the sword to his cloth belt, the weight of it alien against his leg at first but that feeling disappeared as he made his way on.
The trip let his thoughts wander back to the plant girl. That kiss… He didn’t even know her name, which was unfortunate. He would have liked to know, or maybe to have seen that smile again but she was gone and Zayd had a feeling he would not see her again. Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps it wasn’t- he still felt guilty all the same. Like he could have done more for her. Shown her the land, given her another hiding spot, kept her company…
He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself, fantasizing about what never would be. No, it would just be a story that he could not tell anyone about. Not his family, not his future wife, not his future kids. Not even grandkids. Partly because he couldn’t speak and for the fact he felt as if something like that got out, it could cause trouble. She was being hunted by something. Those demons… They were not natural, they were not of Oraliyah or the gods. What could have even wanted her?
It made him angry to even think about it. He couldn’t do anything to help her. She would just fade from his memory. Like a forgotten dream, wanting to be remembered, so desperately. No! He would not forget her, he could not forget what she did for him. Never.
At least the forest was lively.
Zayd cleared the woods as he tightened his resolve of that smile of hers, the memory of his savior’s kiss. He would remember it and think fondly of her. As he continued on, his eyes caught the open fields of his home and… Smoke on the horizon. A great plume of it, thick and dark. Why were they having a fire that large, at this hour?
Unless… Oh no!
Zayd broke into a sprint, letting the wind whip through his hair. His earlier fears washed away in a torrent of like a raging river, unleashed by this new fear. This ever growing thing that threatened to consume him forever. He had been a fool! If those demons had found him then what’s to say they wouldn’t have found his home!
His lungs felt like they were going to burst, like he was going to pass out. He was pushing himself too much, too soon but what else was there to do? He ran and ran and as he approached, he was welcomed by horrors. The fields were burned out, their livestock was slaughtered or missing and the smell of death was pungent. It made him want to vomit and he almost did but he sucked it down and pushed on, slower now. He was shaking, he couldn’t even call out to see if anyone was there. Not that he could hear anything but the crackling of wood.
As he stepped onto the long, well worn path to the homestead, he found it was littered with dried blood, broken pots, splintered wood, tattered clothes and burned out fires. He spotted several black spots, the same as were in the cave and he felt his spine shiver. He took out his copper sword, trembling within his grasp. This was his home, it shouldn’t- it couldn’t look like this.
As he approached the homestead proper, his heart grew heavy at the amount of destruction. The first few houses, his uncles houses, were completely burned to ash and timbers as he walked up into the center. It was then his eyes caught sight of something closer towards the middle. He didn’t know what he was looking at first but his mind began to put the pieces together as he drew closer, like his mother when she would sow. Slow but always coming toge-
He threw up.
The pungent smell of berries clouding his senses as tears filled his vision.
Before him, suspended by pikes of wood through their throats and stomachs, was his father and uncles. At their feet lay a pile of pale corpses. His boy cousins, around his age and a bit younger, perhaps older. A few of his aunts and girl cousins were there as well. Stripped naked, bodies clawed, some chewed to pieces and others with their throats slit. All with vague eyes, open and cloudy, looks of pain and fear. Of ending.
Zayd couldn’t breath. He felt like he was choking. He wretched again in his panic, then dry heaved until he gasped for air. When he at last caught his breath, he rebounded and ran off, stumbling in the direction of his home.
He found it. The roof was caved in, and the doorway was little more than just a gaping hole. He worked his way inside, shuffling around the debris and moving them when he could. The family room was broken apart, like the wind had come and blown everything to one side. He pushed on, towards the sleeping room and found a great amount of dried blood there. It coated one wall and the floor, staining sheets, pillows, and blankets that dark crimson color of suffering. He fell to his knees, then tossed his sword at a wall. It clanged and hit the dirt floor with a thud. Zayd then gripped his head and shut his eyes, wishing to wake up from the nightmare.
With the last body wrapped, and carefully laid on the pyre with the others, Zayd cast a torch and let his family rest. Nothing was really the same. He barely ate, barely drank- just went on with his motions. Preparing the dead for the fire, keeping the birds away, dealing with the smell, the bloating, the warmer days.
Time didn’t really matter to him, for he felt nothing. And if one did not feel, then why would one care?
He did what any good man would do, what was expected of him. He should have buried them but the stink was attracting too many animals. They would not eat and defile these corpses, no. Thus he burned them and as he watched, fire reflecting in his hazy eyes, Zayd knew not what to do next.
He did not find any others in his family. His mother, brothers, sisters. They were missing and so were most of his younger cousins and his aunts. Who would have taken them? Slavers? No… Even slavers were not that cruel and this land was free, protected by… Where were the soldiers of the Hash’Lahan? Of Artikulah? The curious eyes of the passersby? The Coven of Omun?
Where was his help? Where was any help? Why did no one save them… Why didn’t he save them? Because he ran away… Like a coward unable to accept responsibility. His father was right. He was no soldier. He would be no great warrior. His dream of bringing honor to himself and his family were burning right before him. He remembered her smile and he paused where he stood, looking out over to distant lands. His shoulders slumped and he grimaced. He was not worthy of that smile. For he who could not protect his family from wolves, deserved nothing. For he was nothing. He was worthless, a leech that persisted on despite knowing it should be dead.
With staggered feet, he began to withdraw from the fire, walking back to his home. His gaze could not stomach looking at anything around him. The broken houses bringing forth the memories of better times. Now there was nothing but pain here, that was the only truth he knew. Pain and the memories of better times. A constant reminder. He didn’t want to stay but where would he go? This was all he had known.
There was really only one thing left for a person that had brought shame, dishonor, and failure to his own name. He walked past his home and fell upon his knees in the tall grass. He pulled his father’s dagger from his belt and looked upon it. It was one sided, long as his hand and tarnished. Zayd had found it in the house, unused but well kept.
Now, it would be used.
He looked up at the sky, tears beginning to fall down his face. He hoped his family would forgive him. He hoped they would not suffer at the hands of fate. His hands were calm as he brought the blade to his neck and pressed the bladed side to his throat. He thought of his savior and hoped that she would find her way. He felt something hot trickle down his throat as he closed his eyes, breathing deep and prepared a fitting end for the coward he was.
He thought of a memory, he wanted to think of his savior as the last thing he saw but instead, he remembered a time when his baba was still alive. Down at the river, where he was teaching Zayd how to fish. It had been right after he lost his tongue and his spirits had faltered. Baba told him with kind eyes, “Zayd, you must not let this take your spirit. Remember this always, what we lose, makes us stronger. In ways that might not be seen by the naked eye, or known by the mind but,” He had poked Zayd in the chest, “What is felt by the heart.”
Zayd snapped his eyes open and the blade slipped from his fingers, landing in the grass before him. He heaved, and placed his head on the grass as he cried again. What was he doing? Why was he giving up so easily? He had family out there somewhere, afraid and alone and he was just going to kill himself? He would die trying but he would find them and he would bring justice to this senseless act. He had to. It was the only thing that ushered in a new purpo-
“Are you alright?”
The voice startled Zayd and he shot up. A man stood before him, gripping tight to the reigns of a massive bird. A terrakin! It’s body was sleek, kept up by two powerful legs with great talons. It’s neck rose up above them, leading to a large crushing beak and rows of red and yellow crest feathers. It looked on edge and the man too, looked uneasy. This man, who wore an old brown shirt and tan pants. Black beard, tinged with silver, large and bushy upon a slim face with high cheekbones and inquisitive eyes. He wore a cap of black upon his bald head. “Are you hurt? What happened here?” He asked, standing still.
Zayd got to his feet, leaving the dagger on the ground. He looked over his shoulder and then back to the man and shook his head. He then pointed to his throat and opened his mouth to show him.
The man gave a thin frown in return. The kind his father had given him when he had been disappointed. It was both comforting and humiliating. “I noticed the smoke a day ago. Then a new fire this morning. Was this place your home?”
Zayd nodded as his face twisted with emotion. Then he placed his hands atop his head and paced back and forth. It had been his home, now it was just broken wood and embers.
The man looked past him, then back to him with a slow nod. “There are strange things happening in this land. Tales of mass death and blood sacrifices.” He shook his head. “Ah, I should not trouble you further. Come on then. By Oraliyah’s light I won’t leave you here by yourself. You look starved boy and these nights, one can never be too careful alone. I have a home half a day’s journey away from here, if we leave now, we might make it before dark.”
Zayd breathed through his nose, and looked back at his home. He steeled himself, this would not be the end. He would return with those he could save, no matter what. For now, the man’s invitation would be enough. He would get his strength back and rest, then his journey would begin.
He turned back and nodded, picking up his dagger and putting it in his belt. That was all he needed.
“Have you ever ridden on a terrakin before?” the man asked as he approached. Zayd eyed the bird and it eyes him back and he shrank, quickly shaking his head. “Not to worry, old Itern is calm. Calmer than most, at least. Let me help you up.”
After a bit of reprehension, Zayd was on the bird, sitting closest to its neck. He didn’t know where to grab so he wrapped his arms around its neck. The bird’s head came down and with a mighty clack, it startled Zayd enough and he almost fell off if not for the man steadying him. He chuckled aloud. “Itern doesn’t like constriction around his neck. Grab on to the larger feathers in front of you and hold on. Terrakin are quick.”
Once Zayd had done that, he peered over his shoulder at the man. “No sense in waiting then. Itern! Home!” At once, the terrakin lurched forward and with mighty leaps, as if it was more flying then running, they were off. Zayd shut his eyes tight, holding on for dear life as the man laughed deep behind him.
“The name’s Nadir, by the way.” he shouted over the wind. “And you are most safe now.”
Zayd wakes up in the cave, the plant girl is gone but she left him some snacks. He’s feeling good after almost dying and heads home. But sees smoke on the horizon. When he gets home, it’s a mess and it looks like a battle took place. He then finds a pile of his dead family and breaks down. He then burns them all and almost kills himself a few days later before a memory of his baba stirs him to hope again and a stranger arrives, whisking him away from the nightmare.
She was far away in the land of her Lady's realm. So far from the Furies and Oraelia, frolicking with the animals she had come to love so greatly. They were her friends and that which she loved the most in her existence. From the smallest of mice to the largest of sky whales, they lived in the harmony she had created within the Garden Under the Sun. For what was a garden without life that could appreciate it?
The mortals would of course, for they were not able to not appreciate a realm where anything was possible. Where beauty was at every turn. Oh those pesky mortals. Always fighting and arguing. Never knowing that peace was so close to achieve yet so far away. For those who chose to dominate blocked every path.
But right now, Rhiona did not care about mortal woes. Instead she was busy creating something new in a small glade. She had made many animals and plants since she came to be but now she wanted to try something completely new.
Abstract of the mind but beautiful all the same.
She outstretched her hands and then cupped them together, bringing them back up to her face. She breathed into them and a stream of light coalesced forth coming into a lively ball that wobbled back and forth. It tickled her and she giggled, giving it a scratch with a free finger. It pulsed and it's golden color turned pink as it's body changed shapes into symmetrical blobs that glowed with such beauty it took her breath away. Who knew something so small could contain the beauty of stars.
It was small, yes, but held promise. She set it down and watched as it hovered around a blade of tall grass. She could make it even more beautiful still. Rhiona then picked up a large rock and then crushed it within her hands so tight the pieces became hard. She then blew the rock onto the creature and it coated the vibrating light in a million crystals. It seemed to enjoy that as it's color changed to a lively gold again, it's shape becoming that of a disc as it flew around her head.
It reminded her of a shooting star. So she would name it, ”Lumin.” Upon hearing her voice, the lumin danced and in it’s excitement, it flew into her head, letting out a low buzz as it fell to the earthen floor. Rhiona sank to her knees beside it and gently scooped it up with a soft smile on her face. ”You must be careful, little one.”
The lumin buzzed, changing to a deep blue color. Rhiona looked it once over and blew upon it. It fluttered, changing its shape again to a circle. ”There, now if you hurt yourself, you can mend. Mend and give.” The lumin zipped off her hand and took flight around her head again. Rhiona giggled.
She then grew the creature to the size of a royal joyf and multiplied its characteristics to create more of its kind. Around her they flew amongst the grasses and the trees, pairing off. Rhiona then blessed them with enhanced fertility so that they could make more of themselves. She did not know if they would be sent to Galbar eventually, but even creatures such as they could enjoy the company of one another.
Satisfied with her newest creation, she sat down to hold one but felt… A presence that should not be. It was one of death and it had come to their realm. This could not stand!
Rhiona creates some critters then feels a presence of death. That’s it, that’s the post.
5/5 -3MP Lumins - These mastiff sized creatures are made of light and use millions of crystals as a frame to contain that light within. They can use these crystals to form mundane geometric shapes and patterns that are symmetrical. These forms are almost always changing, never keeping the same form for too long. Their crystals also refract their light within as they change colors depending upon their mood. They move around by hovering and flying.
Females of this species are slimmer than their male counterparts, who are larger in size. They breed by pairing for life and mingling their light together, placing a small bit of both into crystals that they also give from themselves for their offspring. They are biologically immortal as they do not need to eat, drink or sleep. They can be killed as much as anything else.
-2MP (Ability) Intrinsically Beautiful- To look upon a Lumin is to look upon a magnificent sight. Unlike other races with flesh and bone, Lumins are made of crystals that bring out true beauty in the forms of their color shifts and their ever changing forms.
-2DP (Ability) Ray of Life- They have been imbued with the essence of life upon their creation and are capable of spreading this life by use of their light. This ray shoots forth, letting plants grow and banishing that which is undead.
-2DP (Ability) Ray of Healing- They have also been imbued with the essence of healing and are naturally inclined to mend that which is broken. Not only can they heal each other, they can heal flesh and mortal like wounds, by use of their crystals.
-1DP (Blessing) Fertility- They are naturally slow to produce offspring and raise their young for many years as they grow slowly. But with this blessing they are capable of having a couple offspring per reproductive cycle and don't have many complications when doing so.
So he ran, deeper towards the light from whence he came. He had nowhere else to go. The cave was the only option. The only thing he could think of was the swords. If he could get one he might have a chance at fending them off. But that was only if…
The thought struck him with dread.
He was leading those monsters to her! She had just saved him and now… And now he was putting her life in danger! Was he really so selfish? Perhaps his father was right… He shook his head- Now was not the time to think about that! Now was the time to live or die.
His footsteps echoed further, the snarls of the monsters closing in behind. They were close to the entrance. As the light neared, he saw the familiar silhouette of his savor, visage obscured by darkness, but the spear in her hand did not go unnoticed.
“Why you come!” She yelled at him, brandishing the spear. “I say go! You go!” She moved closer to him and Zayd slowed down. He turned sideways and then pointed towards the entrance, finger shaking. He looked at her and could tell she wasn’t paying attention.
“I say go! You go! No stay!” She shouted again. “Wh-” Her voice was cut off by a loud howl. Her eyes grew wide with fear. Her once proud posture seemed to grow smaller and she looked past him to the gleam of red eyes entering her abode.
“Oh no.” She managed to say.
Zayd took his chances and ran past her, around the small wall and into a crevice at the back of the cave. He looked up to see her shaking with fear, they were nearly upon her and she wasn’t even defending herself! Zayd grunted as he thrust his hand into the rocks. He was cut several times by sharp stones but his hand found what it was after- a hilt. He pried the sword free with little effort and swung around to rescue her from the monsters but…
They ignored her.
With one sniff of her head, the larger one moved on towards Zayd and the smaller one paced back and forth like some sort of shield, preventing him from being able to reach her but still keeping her from running. She crouched down and that was the last thing he saw of her before his attention swapped to the monster coming closer. In the light of the fire his eyes fell upon a horrible sight. Of a creature’s flesh that moved like worms in the dirt after a downpour. It was disgusting and the smell was foul. It stood nearly shoulder height to him and Zayd began to wonder if his dull copper sword was going to do anything to it.
Still, he had to try. He couldn’t let fear control him! He took a defensive stance, eyes never leaving the beast that approached. It did not slow down, a low rumble emitting from it’s chest, teeth dripping with a black liquid. Zayd lunged at it, bringing his sword down in an arc but the creature was fast and it side stepped him. He overcompensated his wing and went forward as he lost his footing. Something slammed into his left side, sending him crashing against the rocks. His vision blurred and he felt two things, one was a blistering pain and the other was anger. He forced himself to stay awake and gripped his hilt tighter as he turned to the creature. It ran at him and Zayd barely had time to roll out of the way, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He sprawled out in a heap as the creature slammed into the rocks with a piercing scream.
It lunged at him again in it’s rage and Zayd tried to roll out of the way, but it pinned his left arm. A rare scream came from his lips, haggard and muted as it was. He felt something break and vision blacken one more, but this left an opening as the creature snapped at his body that had moved. With his right arm, he stabbed the creature in the neck. It screamed again, and Zayd lost the sword as it instinctively jumped away from the danger and into the other wall. It lost its footing as it screamed again.
Zayd was relieved and began to sit up, watching the creature begin to struggle as dark liquid began to spew from the wound. That was his mistake, for the next thing he knew, something snapped down tight on his right shoulder. He wanted to scream, but his breath was taken away. He glanced right and the smaller beast had bitten down and then squeezed. Zayd struggled to free himself but there was little he could do, it was like the weight of three men holding him down, applying pressure, breaking bone, ripping flesh.
Fear took him then, and the creature shook its head, rending his flesh even further before it threw him to the floor, knocking what little wind he had in him out. His eyes were barely able to stay open as he saw it come toward him with such evil eyes. His vision began to fade and the last thing he saw was… The girl… And… Her spear...
“...uman…”
Light was fading. Dim glows. The smell of smoke. There were screams in the dark and terrible eyes. So many eyes. It was like they surrounded him whole, always watching with such malice. He couldn’t escape them no matter how he tried and they threatened to swallow him up whole.
“...You need too…” Was that a light hidden in the eyes? Something blue besides the crimson. He reached for it and tried to grab it with such desperation but it was fleeting like a shooting star. Fading from his vision.
“...Wake…”
Zayd felt himself fall with a jerk. He tried to scream but his voice was lost. It had always been lost. The eyes began to streak together as he fell, like horrible rivers of blood, threatening to swallow him up. To suffocate him entirely! He heard the howl, tenfold and bloodchilling as hot and humid breath touched his neck. It was going to kill hi-
“WAKE UP!”
His eyes snapped open, tears flooring down his cheeks. He tried to move but a hand pressed his chest down. He looked up to see her face, red with worry. He felt so much pain and he couldn’t move his shoulder without jolts of pain. He took a ragged breath and it felt like something had stabbed him. It was hard to breath. He was able to move his legs and feet and even his left arm? Hadn’t that been brok-
“I try heal. I try.” She said in a softer voice, and Zayd focused on her as she took his left hand within her own. They were so soft and that voice of hers, she sounded sorry.
He looked at her and gave a slight nod. He should have been dead. He would be, if it wasn’t for her. She must have killed them but… He tried to sit up but felt faint. She seemed to realize what he wanted and kept her hand pressed down. Not enough to hurt him but enough for him to realize he shouldn’t move.
His eyes moved frantically, as they strained to see if they were truly safe.
“No worry. Is okay. Killed.” She pressed a hand to his cheek and wiped away one of his tears. “You brave.” She said after a moment, their eyes connecting. Her face was one of guilt and behind those crimson eyes there was a pain of her own.
“Why?” The question caught Zayd off guard. Why what? Why had he fought them? Why had he ran back into the cave? He could have ran anywhere else, those things would have followed. Right?
Was it guilt that had made him pick up a sword? Or was it that he really had believed he could prove himself? He didn’t feel like he had proved a damn thing though. If anything, it had shown just how stupid he was.
A thousand different emotions crossed his face and he looked away from her. He couldn’t speak, so why even try to explain? But he felt her hand tug him back to her and he relented. Zayd froze when they met again. She was… She was smiling. It made his heart flutter, that smile, so warm and genuine and just… Beautiful.
“Thank you.” She whispered, a violet tear rolling down her cheek to her chin, then falling onto his bare chest. When did he lose his shirt?
The plant girl then looked away from him, frowning. “I heal you. You rest…” She paused, peeling her hands away to rest them over the side of his stomach. “I go after.” Before he had time to object, he had the same tingling sensation as before, and then something popping. He groaned as his eyes went hazy but it did not linger and he took his first full breath of air without the stabbing in his side. Relief washed over his senses and he gave her a weak smile.
He raised his good arm and then pointed to her. Then he pointed at himself. He frowned and began to shake his head. He didn’t want her to go. How would she be safe from whatever those things were that attacked them?
She guided his hand back down with her own and shook her head. “I go. I d-danger. To you.”
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, shaking his head again. He began to mouth the word, stay, but this only further pushed her away. She broke free and stood up. Zayd tried to follow, but she placed a foot on his chest this time and she kept him down. He gave up in defeat and settled back down.
“I...:” She pointed at herself. “Go.” Then she pointed at him. “You stay. You go home. Forget.” She said it with such a commanding tone, a stark contrast to how she had been only a few minutes ago. She walked over behind his head and sank to her knees. He looked up at her and she peered back before he felt her hands upon his right shoulder. The tingling began and he winced as she worked.
Zayd made up his mind right then and there. When he was healed, he would follow after her. He didn’t know why but that smile had been enough to convince him that it needed to be protected. He was stupid but it had led him to her, right? That had to mean something. It just had to. He needed a purpose.
He felt another pop and his eyes focused on her once more. She brought her head close and Zayd felt his heart beat faster. Her eyes seemed to wander over his face for a moment and then she placed a small kiss upon his forehead.
“Sorry.” She whispered and before he could register what was going on, he felt her hand press into the base of his neck. The last thing he remembered was that kiss, warm and gentle, before his eyes faded to black.
Zayd, our fledgling hero, fights the demon dogs after they follow him into the cave. Strangely, they don’t attack the plant girl and one even begins to defend her. She looks shocked if anything but Zayd doesn’t worry about that, cause he’s got a fight of his own with the other dog. He wounds it, after getting thrown about and mangled pretty bad. As that one began its death throes the other one got the surprise on him and crushed his right shoulder, throwing him about some more. The last thing he sees is the plant girl attacking then he dreams some pretty bad stuff.
He wakes up to the plant girl, who has been healing him. Who knows how long the days have passed. She thanks him for being brave but tells him she is leaving. Zayd, after falling for her smile, wants her to stay but she shakes her head. As she heals the last of his energies, she kisses his forehead then knocks him out with a pressure point.
The great crimson sun hung in the many-hued heavens of the western wastes of the Kubrajzar. It seemed to eat up the skies, which were different hues of orange and yellow and red, as though there was not even the possibility of coolness in sight. The desolate redlands took the beating of the sky with the patience and fortitude of two thousand or more years - who could know? Were these wastes not eternal?
But there was a being here now whose like had never wandered the deserts and vales of the Kubrajzar. Malri was far from home. Yet as he wandered in the oppressive heat that baked his armor and cooked his skin, turning his wings to what felt like flames, he knew he never truly had a home. The Luminant was but a distant memory… The snow wastes, oh the snow wastes, they were gone too. Even the ocean was nothing more but a desire now. A distant want to escape the heat. It was torture. For he could not die. The bands kept him imprisoned to his flesh, healing his burns as they burned, fueling his rage. Not even thirst could keep him down. It was as if his mouth and throat were the desert and his tongue a shriveled, dying plant but it didn't stop his slow march. He was a wrathful spirit, consumed to the core.
Every now and then his mace would poof into existence beside him, only to be abandoned again as he walked and only for it to reappear. Time and time again. He lost track after the tenth time, for his mind wandered frequently and his vision was haunted by a red haze. This fate was not fitting for him. He had been conqueror, a king! He had been a God! No he was a God!
Right?
Did Gods tire? Did they get punished for being cursed? Did they thirst and hunger? Feeling their insides starve and be replenished? Did they become consumed by rage? Over and over and over and over and over and over…
No sooner had he begun to think that the suffocating heat of day could do him no more harm - that his body had taken all its ardent rays and emerged victorious - then that great crimson sky-orb slipped behind the sandy horizon and the twin-moons came riding the night on wings of bitterest cold. The chill would have raked at his very bones, perhaps, but he laughed in the face of the night. Such as he no longer feared the cold. His laughter did not last long however, for even if he was warmed by the stone, it reminded him that this was not a place of pleasant airs. Extremes on both sides, never just a pleasant day. It made him angry.
Everything made him angry and as he quickly found out, that anger could do nothing but keep him alive. Coupled with the bands, it prolonged his suffering. Such as Malri was too vengeful to die in such a place. Truly, he could use his anger to escape and then punish those that had wronged him. He would endure to enact his revenge against the Litus tribe and that damn giant. For in this place he could keep his anger sustained forever. The heat and cold… The never ending cycle… It took a toll even on him and added fuel to the fire that burned inside of him. Like hot coals begging to be ignited into a roaring inferno.
So he kept walking, sluggish now, each anger filled step, feeling like his last. There was no direction in mind, for his mind was taxed to the limit on just surviving. Besides, it wasn't like he had any idea where to go.
There was just the endless walk towards his enemies or the nothingness that haunted him. Of a revenge never given. He preferred the latter. For seemingly endless cycles of day and night did he wander, the redlands spreading out before him in all directions. Sand and rock spread out as far as the eye could see, here and there great towering rock formations shot up like gravestones. Their shade, at least, provided some relief. He was in such a state of rageful delirium that he almost missed it one day - that something was different.
On the distant horizons there was something not red. At first it seemed like the sky had forgotten to be red or orange or some other torrid colour, but after his eyes passed over it a few times and it did not disappear he knew it was no illusion. There on the horizon was greenery and the promise of life.
Where there was green, there was water and water brought food. The idea of such necessities was tantalizing. It brought him renewed vigor or the illusion of it as he scrambled closer. It ushered forth in his mind an all consuming drive. It was the essence of surviving or death would claim him. Day by day the greenery got closer and closer, and soon enough it was but a handspan away.
Before him, as far as the eye could see, were wrinkled husks of trees and plants - there seemed in them no sign of life; their only feature was that they glowed green and so gave the illusion of life. There was no water to be seen, no coolness from the eye of the sun. The wasteland remained - only that now it was green.
As he came to a stop before this trickery, he did not want to believe it. He could not believe it. He walked so far and for so long and this was what awaited him? This… This false hope. He felt his anger turn to rage, and his rage began to bubble. The all too familiar sound of his mace arriving next to him was too tempting, and so, in a burst of speed that had eluded him before, Malri picked up his mace and swung. He swung at the plants and at the trees, roaring and cursing. It wasn’t fair! They would suffer as he suffered! He would make them feel his pain and as a particularly large husk was felled, Malri stumbled and fell forward. A great bloom of dust erupted from the ground as his body- no… His carcass found it’s resting place.
His rage subsided, growing dull as it did but leaving a reminder of its presence in the back of his mind. It wouldn’t let him die. That was his curse. He was too angry to die. What was left but that? Nothing but a nagging to keep moving on. The drive that came over those that faced death. And so, Malri began to drag himself. He would show them just how strong his will was. No matter what it took.
Yet these barrens - for all their lifelessness - were not quite devoid of life, and in his rage and in the great cacophony of his whirling mind, Malri almost missed the subtle sound of… buzzing. Looking tired towards the sound, he found that in the distance a great dust cloud was blowing wildly and violently, eating up all about it and approaching at speed. Only that - on closer inspection - it did not seem to be a dust cloud at all. The way its particles moved seemed too free to be the simple work of the wind. And as the buzzing grew louder and more incessant, and as the cloud grew ever closer, it dawned on him that the approaching cloud was in fact alive.
It was an endless vespian swarm, no doubt drawn by the great fury he had unleashed upon this deceptively verdant mirage. He growled, pushing himself to his feet as he watched the approaching swarm. His mace was not far and he walked to retrieve it. The rush began to flood into his senses, awakening them once more. He had heard of these things from the Litus tribes but had never actually seen them. Still… He wondered if they were edible.
They came screeching and hissing, armoured vicious things with abnormally large scything talons and stingers; and they seemed to care for little but him. Mindlessly they came, and mindlessly they were cut down - and still they came, blotting out the light of the sun, swarming from all directions, cutting at wings, at lefts, at arms.
His armor could only do so much and every cut, every sting, every bite that he felt was a dose of rage. He felt his wings be torn to shreds, he felt them be reduced to bloody stumps of flesh. He lost himself in the pain and his rampage was never ending. They came and they died. They cut him and he healed. They bit and stung him and he healed. He felt something hot run in his veins, only for it be purged with the inferno that was his core. His mace was a bludgeon and it became coated in sickly green, as well as his armor. They did not seem to be afraid of him and he welcomed it. It meant they would die by his hand.
And parting the swarm of little things came red and brown giants, winged and maned, and they struck out with claws and seemed, to Malri, to be directing the smaller ones so that they acted in greater synchrony - for now they seemed to see where he was weakest and target him there. Healing wings were struck, aligning limbs were scythed again and again. The swarm seemed as relentless as it was endless, day had become night beneath their sheer number, it seemed neither a step forth nor a step back could be taken except that they were there.
He began to grow tired of the game they played. The small ones were not a challenge, but a nuisance that did not end. It was time to go after the bigger prey. Try as he might however, his wings were gone and the swarm would not let him have a moment of peace. So Malri was forced to break the smaller ones, over and over again. Their bodies began to pile, turning the very ground wet with liquid. Malri pressed on.
There came a moment - he sensed the change immediately - when the swarm seemed to realise that there was a great futility to this for they very suddenly they began to back off - one moment he was cleaving them left and right and above and even below, and the next they were out of reach. They observed him for a while, watching as he attempted to reach them but buzzing just out of reach, and then they turned and left just as swiftly and in just as great a cloud - though Malri liked to think it was somewhat reduced - as they came. He watched them depart through the adrenaline, the world around a great vespian graveyard.
He fell to his knees and ripped off his helmet, then wasted no time in picking up a broken bit of chitin with what he assumed was meat, and took a bite. The mere taste was enough to repulse him and he gagged, spitting it out. In a fit, he punched one of the fresh corpses and it exploded on him. He wiped the gunk off his face and then grabbed his helmet, rushing off after the swarm before his adrenaline faded. He could feel his wings beginning to regrow and it would not be long before they were strong enough to fly with. He needed to see where they were going. Perhaps they had food and water. It was the only lead he had.
As soon as his great black wings were in a ready state, he beat them on the torrid air and went flying after the swarm. By air the distances that required endless nights and days on foot were eaten up as easily as lovers whispered sweet nothings to one another; and as easily as Malri planned to consume whatever eatable, drinkable vittles these sorry insects led him to. When he made landfall, it was within sights of a great oasis; real greenery and real water. But it was clear that it was not unoccupied - the very vespians, it seemed, called this place home. As he made his way towards it, hellbent on doing to them just as he had done before, a small group came zipping towards him and stopped some distance away.
They all looked the same to him, but if they could look different then perhaps these ones were, in some insectoid sense, more refined, cleaner. And they did not come at him in a swarm. “Hail, Vespslayer.” One stridulated, “we are the hWebi-Vesp, traders and resource gatherers. We have heard of you in the cries of those more barbarous kin of ours - we have no wish for strife or war.”
Malri hung in the air, inhaling their words with each beat of his wings. He had not thought them capable of speech, nevertheless capable of being traders. From behind his helmet, a very rare smile appeared upon his lips. “Those that do not wish for war and strife often find themselves in it’s midst.” he said, voice raspy and dry. “If these kin of yours told you about me, then they will have made mention that I was unkillable, yes? Now listen closely, for my patience for your kind is thin. I require food and drink and answers. Provide these and I will not harm you.” They stridulated amongst themselves for a few moments, and then the one who had spoken before turned back to Malri.
“There is no need to speak of harm, we will feed you and quench your thirst, and we shall give you answers too. In exchange we ask little - we are traders still, and we ask something easy and of little value. We too would like answers. Food and drink in exchange for our safety from your wrath, and answers from us for answers from you. It is a good trade.”
Malri was in little mood to argue with them, as much as he thought them inferior. Besides, spilling blood in the water would ruin it. Probably. After a moment of silent contemplation, he flew closer and uttered but one word. “Agreed.” They watched him with their jewel-like eyes for a few moments, before stridulating their approval and zipping off into the air, towards the oasis-hive. The trees that grew around the oasis were all fruiting - palms, figs, apricots, peaches, and other fruits. Fabrics and banana leaves were laid out in the shade and clay bowls of fruit were brought before the black-winged Neiyari, as were jugs of water from the oasis. A fire was lit nearby and an ibex placed on a spit.
“We prefer it raw, but the redmen do not like such things - if you wish for it raw, Vespslayer, simply tell us.” The one who spoke hovered above the ibex for a few moments before zipping down and sitting on his thighs before the winged being.
Malri could hardly believe the bounty of food that was laid before him. He removed his helmet post haste and set it on the ground next to him. The flame flickered and danced over his impassive visage. The first thing he did was grab a jug and bring it to his parched lips. He drank until it was empty, then did so again. Next, he grabbed a fruit, not caring what it was and began to eat. The sweet flavors erupted in his mouth before being swallowed up like a wolf.
Between bites, he managed to say, “Cook it.” and glanced towards the meat. He then went back to drinking and eating the fruit, the aromas of meat seducing his nose, making hum hungrier. It felt as if years had gone by since his last meal. When at last the meat was cooked he took while still hot and ripped into the flesh. The meat was gamey but he would not complain.
The hWebi-Vesp watched him as he tore through fruit and meat alike, and fresh bowls of fruit and jugs of water were swiftly brought forth to replace empty ones, which were carried off. As he began to slow down, however, jugs of a strange, sweet-smelling liquid were brought forth. “Date wine. The redmen like it.” The speaker explained. “We don’t. Meat and water is sufficient - meat raw best.” The creature paused as it poured some of the wine into a cup and placed it before him. “Where did you come from, Vespslayer?”
He took another sniff of the date wine before taking a large swig. The taste was far too sweet for his liking but it was something different and he downed the cup. He licked his lips as he turned to the speaker Vesp, narrowing his eyes. “Where is here?” He instead asked.
“Here is the redland - it is redland from the north sea to the south sea, wherever that may be. It is redland from the west sea to the mountain, and it is mountain from the north sea to the south sea, wherever that may be. That is what is here.” The hWebi-Vesp answered simply. “How did you come to be here, Vespslayer, without knowing where here is?”
Malri pondered the words of the speaker. Never before had he heard of such a place or its unique description. His eyes flashed with anger. Where had that damned giant sent him? He took a breath. “Have you heard of a land of golden grass, teeming like the oceans with life? Stretching as far the eyes can see and then further still? Or before that, a land of ice and snow, where the cold would freeze you solid? Or perhaps a place of light, more colorful than any field of flowers or the setting of the sun? These are the places I am from.” He grimaced, gritting his teeth. “Then I was cast out of them, one by one. Finding myself wandering an empty red land of cruel heat and bitter cold. That is how I came to be here.” He spat before drinking some more water. “And what could be powerful enough to cast out the like of you, Vespslayer? Not once - but again and again.” The same speaker asked. “It is certainly not something that dwells in this land or anywhere that we know of.”
He eyed the speaker, his expression souring. “Surely you’ve heard of the divine in this forsaken land? The Gods? They have cursed me time and time again and for what, you might ask?” His words grew angrier. “For being alive, for existing. For asking questions and demanding answers. I was king. Warrior. Wanderer. Conqueror. In this place… It all begins anew. Starting with Vespslayer.” He tore into another piece of meat. The speaker looked to some of her gathered companions.
“And do you think it wise to defy the gods, Vespslayer? If it has played out like this so many times, do you not think it… appropriate… perhaps, to do something differently this time?” She paused and let her words settle. “Perhaps there is a way to achieve what you wish without gaining the ire of the gods. You are sat here eating as you please, delighting in the shade, hearing from us as we hear from you. You have gotten what you wanted. You could have, if you wished, slain us all, taken what fruits and meats you wished for, forced one terrified hWebi-Vesp or another to answer your questions. You would have gotten what you wanted too - though I would say you would have been the poorer for it, and so too would we. Is there no way for you to gain what you want while avoiding divine ire? Many have managed it - why not you?”
“I still could.” He said with a deadpan stare. “Kill you all, I mean. It would be easy, like breaking twigs for a fire. I would feel nothing doing it.” He rolled his head, something cracked in his neck and the giant let out a sigh. “The Gods are fickle things. One could rape, murder, pillage and slaughter a whole nation before they deem it appropriate to act. Is it wise to defy them? No, of course not. You think me a fool do you not? You are inferior to me, just as we are all inferior to the gods. Does a bug not fear a boot? I will do as I please, for they made me this way and the only way they can stop me is if they kill me. They’ve had their chances and each time they send me on my way. Now, tell me of these Redmen and about this land. If you know not where I come from then I am truly forgotten.”
The speaker buzzed in agitation at his words, but then settled down on her thighs. “The gods do as they will. It is not the place of - as you say - bugs to question the boot. If you slay us all it shall, of course, sadden us greatly - but we have no illusions about our own greatness. A god created us and dropped us from the heavens - why? We could not tell you. Perhaps it thought it fun. We do not ask why - it created us and can do as it wants with us. But we think we have a good trade with you. We have given you no reason to slay us - and you have given us your word, have you not?” She paused for a few moments. “Redmen, yes. Two legs, two arms, a head, oddly placed thorax - like you actually, but no wings. Feathers on the head like a crown, hair also. Often the colour of the desert, sometimes dark. They live on the oases, on the coast, in the mountains. Some trade with us - they like many useless trinkets, give good food in exchange. They go beyond the mountains - they say it is all trees there, that there is so much water that it is a snake. They say there is water there as much as the sea, only sweet. Those are the redmen.” “Humani?” He said to himself after a moment of contemplation. He then waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Yes, yes. Gods and greatness. What else exists within these lands that speaks and has thoughts of their own beside the redmen? What are the dangers besides this desert? What do you trade?” He asked leaning back. The speaker clicked and cocked her head.
“Ah, yes. Humen… humenak. They call themselves that - humenaki.” She paused and rubbed her face in thought. “No other sapients on the land. On the sea in the west are waterkin - ugly tentacles, sea-redmen too. They bring treasures from the sea - they bring treasures from distant lands. Powerful tentacle-leader - powerful magicker. But redmen have powerful magick - keep tentacles off land. So they trade instead. Trade is good.” She paused again, clicking her mandibles and rubbing her head as she got her thoughts in order. “Many dangers. Flying men and magickers. Demon-magickers wander the redland. Redmen bring thought-fiends - too much worrying. Faeryfolk can be nasty - but make good trading. Wild vesps are irksome - always after our water, raiding trade. Redman hate us because of it, but hWebi-Vesp do not raid. That is all we know of.
“As for trading - we give poisons, fruits, wild meats, faeryfolk things, salts and copper-rocks, demonbits and trollparts, inks and dyes, weeds and herbs they think precious. We make their food too - grains and earth-things, they give animals. We can’t herd - kin too wild and volatile, can’t herd animals, only kill. But planting we can do - see, fruits and grains that redmen love. They bring camels and goats; delicious. The hides we sell back. We make pots for them too,” she picked up the bowl of fruit, showing off the ornate handiwork, “good quality, yes? We know what redmen like. Many other things. Every useless thing we find, the redmen take.” She stopped there and rubbed her face once more. “See, we give good answers. Why these questions? Do you… plan to rape, murder, pillage and slaughter?” She rubbed her head in agitation. “You are powerful. There is no need. Trade is good. Trade is powerful.”
“Very good answers.” Malri mused. “You speak of many things. Many unknowns. You are useful, that much I can see with my own eyes. And these questions are of great help to me, being a stranger in a strange land after all. Full and ripe for the taking, if one knows where to look for it. And you have looked for it and you have come to your conclusion- That being trade. You trade to live and live to trade, this is plain to see. But are you powerful? You must be if you can maintain this oasis in a desert of death. Protect and maintain, yes. Trade keeps you alive and you are content to always trade then? Is that where your aspirations died? Perhaps, perhaps. Now do tell me, one last question, do these redmen travel to you, or do you travel to the redmen?”
The speaker clicked her mandibles and rubbed her antennae. “Redmen are forbidden here - they come far, travelling back and forth. But here they don’t come. We go to them - they are easy to find, they know where to stay until we come. We are powerful enough to keep them away. Powerful enough to keep our wild kin at bay. More powerful than you? No. But the gods have made you powerful, and so you are. The gods made us weak, but we made ourselves powerful - more powerful than our kin, powerful enough to tame the redmen and stop their aggression, powerful enough to make them bring food to us. We survived. Now we thrive. Maybe one day trading will no longer be good - maybe then we will need to find other things. But now trading is good, and we will keep to it until it isn’t.” She paused again and then gestured to his armour. “Your clothes - odd. Metal? Not copper. How is it done? The redmen will like it.”
Malri gave a bemused smile. “It was forged by a god.” He picked up his mace and displayed it. “Forged by a god.” He set the mace back down. “It cannot be done by mortal hands. There is none like it in all this world. Now, I shall sleep for several days and several nights. Do not disturb me, do not touch me, don’t even think about trying to slit my throat. It won’t work. When I wake, you shall take me inland, towards the mountains. I have no wish to see this sea with its dangers.” He stood up, and looked down upon them. “Since you are fond of trades, I shall offer you this.” He clapped his hands together and a glow came from within. He began to pull back his hands, revealing the glow to be that like the sun’s light. It was blinding but was over in a flash. In his hands there was a red hot blade, unlike any metal seen within the land. That he was sure of. The sword, more of a large dagger to him, was straight like an arrow with a small hand guard and narrow hilt. He showed it to the speaker and the others. “A sunlit blade. Let it drink the sunlight everyday and it will not disappoint you. So, do we have a trade?”
The hWebi-Vesps seemed dazzled by the strange thing, and a few lifted off and backed away from the sudden burst of light. The speaker, however, remained in place and eyed the offered sword. “We never go to the mountain… but for a trade like this, we indeed have a trade. You have nothing to fear from us - and we have nothing to fear from you. Trade is the cure to war and hostilities, and we are trade partners now. Sleep well, Vespslayer.” And with that, the speaker lifted off on her wings and buzzed away with the others, disappearing into a subterranean burrow by the far side of the oasis with the sword in hand. Malri grabbed his helmet and put it on, then took the mace and found a better spot with shade. He rested against a tree, mind abuzz with many hateful things, until at last sleep came.
Malri is in a desert, basically enduring through his rage. Time passes and nothing truly makes sense. He thinks about a lot of things, mad ramblings in his head. He eventually finds green in a desert of red but is tricked cause it’s all dead stuff. He throws a fit and it attracts swarmer Vespians. They rip his wings off to the bone and stab, bite and cut him where his armor is weakest but Malri endures due to the bands of healing and renewal and his sheer rage. He doesn’t even make a dent in the swarmers but kills enough for them to leave. Being a spiteful guy, he trails after them as his wings regrow and comes into contact with trader wasps. They don’t want to fight and offer a trade instead, answers for answers. They treat him to a feast and Malri learns about the place he is in. It’s very far from home, at least he thinks. After some back and forth Malri comes up with a new trade and they graciously accept. Malri then sleeps.
This is for you En. ZIP.
Malri Starting = 19 -1 Prestige to make a sunsword. +5 = 23
Oraelia paced back and forth in front of her portal. Her form was that of her love domain, and her clothing was a dress of white, golden hair long and curly running down her back. Every now and then she would glance outside into Antiquity proper with nervous eyes, the mere thought making her feel sick to her stomach. Could gods feel anxious? Why couldn’t she just do it and get it over with. It was just Neiya and… It was just Neiya… The one who had hurt her so long ago, the one that had hurt Gibbou and Sanya and… It was just Neiya…
She gripped her head, trying to gasp for breath as she crouched off to the side of the portal. She didn’t even need to breathe and yet, there she was, having a panic attack. She had rehearsed it over and over in her head. She would waltz- no, walk into Neiya’s realm. Yes, walk and then she would call to her, because Neiya would already know she was there. But if her portal was locked? Then she would have to call out to her and what if she never answered? What if she did answer…?
She clutched her heart, it felt like it was going to explode. Her breaths were sharp and hurt and she wasn’t exhaling. She fell to her knees. Why was this so hard? Why was she so… weak and pathetic? Angry tears fell down her cheeks. She told Gibbou that she would do this! She had to! She had to make peace with her, it was the only way or one of them… One of them could die… The mere thought sent shockwaves rippling through her body.
She didn’t want them to hurt each other anymore.
She didn’t want them to kill one another.
To hurt.
To maim.
To suffer.
To feel such sor-
Oraelia gasped as she felt the all too familiar touch of Neiya in her heart. Like thousands of little knives cutting her so deeply. It was too much to bear and then she heard the voices. Their voices.
A cool breeze blew through the Luminant, kissing the lake of radiance with a gentleness reserved for lovers. Sat on the soft sands of the beach was an Oraeliari couple. His long wings draped over his mate in a sign of comfort. Her forlorn eyes looked out over the water, oblivious to his pleas.
In a house in a tree there was another man, watching the sun dip beyond the horizon where he sat, legs hanging over the deck. He didn’t know why but he found no joy in that sight like he had before. It all seemed so… So pointless.
A woman consoled her friend, who had been so well the day before. She did not know why those silent tears flowed down her friends cheeks. Or why those tears held the hint of black in them.
A child grabbed the hand of his mother, pleading for a bedtime story, pleading for anything. A hug, a kiss- ‘Momma please’, he would say. Met with silence, met with apathy.
More and more that night of sorrow unfolded, upon the dawn of their greatest victory, they met their greatest tragedy. And all of them prayed to their Goddess when nothing else worked.
Oraelia snapped herself out of the sorrow induced lull, hands growing into fists. She had cursed them! She had cursed her Oraeliara! That- That monster! What gave her that right to do that! Her feelings of anxiety were replaced with anger, a newer sensation that felt goo-
She had cursed the Neiyari…
Hadn’t she? Well, Rhiona did but it was her by extension.
She took a deep breath and unclenched her hands. Neiya had gotten her revenge, how could she not have seen such a thing coming? And now her people paid the price, to suffer as she had suffered so long ago. What could she do? Another curse? A cure? Was it even possible?
It dawned upon her, what she truly had to do.
It was none of those things. She would not retaliate with a curse, for such a thing would never end between them. A cure would solve the flower of the problem, but not the root- even if it was possible. No, her solution had always been in front of her.
Oraelia stood and turned to face her portal. A look of determination flashed in her eyes.
It was time to see Neiya.
Bright eyed and full of determination, she stepped through the portal to the ‘Love’ goddess’ realm, into a very, very different sight. One she could hardly remember. When Oraelia had last visited Neiya, she had walked into a desolate plain with withered trees and a solitary river, save for the grove in which the goddess herself had resided. An early warning of the bleak outlook the goddess had had on love, perhaps. If that was the case back then, then what greeted Oraelia now did not bode well.
The plains were gone, replaced by jagged cliffs, hills and obsidian monoliths built in random and erratic fashion, with no logic to their construction nor any acceptance of basic geometry and physics. It was a hostile landscape, with only hints of its previous form. The river was still present, a dark blue and black affair swirling and churning like a maelstrom as it coiled over the landscape; not content to remain settled along the ground. It culminated in a waterfall that fell upwards towards the sky - into what appeared to be a roiling abyss of colours, emotions, and malice. Just looking up into the eye of the storm brought a pang of emotion, laced with spite and sadness. Yet that was not all - life now seemed to teem in the chaotic realm. Packs of dark hounds with fur like burning shadows sprinted across the landscape, trying to find refuge from the howl of the river. Silhouettes of horned women, spreading flame and fighting each other, popped up across the jagged land as well. Chaos reigned.
Oraelia could not focus on one singular thing, as her eyes wandered to all, yet she tried to retain focus. She was beyond horrified, as the realm was nothing like she remembered. So she grabbed her wrists and looked down at them, conjuring a small band of light into a ribbon. She whispered a small prayer to herself and then spoke aloud, "Neiya! Where are you? We need to talk!" she said with a loud voice.
Coils of energy arced from the river, running down along it and striking the ground in angry strikes akin to lightning. At the mouth of the river, high in the sky, a vortex began to dissipate to reveal the silhouette of another horned being - and Oraelia knew as soon as she saw her; Neiya hovered high in the air between the warped sky and the maelstrom of a river leading up to it. She looked nothing like either of their previous meetings, but was still immediately recognizable to the Life goddess.
”Talk?” her voice boomed across the realm, suspicious and sharp in tone. ”You’ve come to gloat, but I have already moved on. Struck back.” she concluded, and her shape stirred from it’s resting place in the sky. She descended down towards Oraelia slowly with graceful drifting, as behind and below her, the river crashed down on the landscape, creating lakes and riverbanks now that it was no longer being pulled into the sky.
Oraelia’s posture changed. She seemed to shrink, as if trying to become very, very small. Her display of power was, whether an act or trying to unnerve her, was having the intended results. Oraelia could not keep her eyes off of Neiya’s new form, out of the fear she would attack and she wondered why she would even want to be viewed as such. It was so… bare so… uncovered!
She blinked, trying to retain focus of herself. She had come here for a purpose and one she would now have to see through!
”You-” she said in a small voice before clearing her throat, ”You are mistaken! I never gloat over those who are suffering. I’ve come to talk to you! This has to end, Neiya, can’t you see it will bring only further pain? Please, Neiya. Please. I know there is more to you then this.” she finished, adjusting her shirt which had been buffeted by the winds.
”More to me than this?” the horned goddess demanded as she touched down a few metres away from Oraelia. ”I am just being who I am supposed to be. And I’m good at it, too. What else could there be to me?” Neiya commented, a conniving, false smile playing on her lips. Around them, creatures began to pool and gather in the shadows, drawn to the sheer power of roaming divinity.
Oraelia briefly fled her gaze to look at the gathering creatures. Figures like women, but with the intelligence of the wolves that followed them. What had she done? Oraelia looked back at Neiya. ”Is this what you are good at? Being antagonistic with Gibbou? Creating savage life and twisting landscapes?” Oraelia’s expression softened. ”Neiya, listen to me, in each of us there is more than what is seen on the surface! I know it, Neiya and I know you know this too! You don’t have to be like this, you can change! Not drowned in the sorrow of your own making.” She said.
That struck a chord with Neiya, who widened her eyes as realization dawned on her. The horned goddess stopped dead in her tracks, staring straight at Oraelia though not truly seeing her. In a short span of moments, her face went through several stages, the goddess visibly working through surprise, confusion, and finally - anger. ”Liar!” she roared with unabated fury, harking back to their previous meeting, and her arm rose to deliver her accusation as her gaze fell properly on Oraelia. ”You have no idea-... no idea what I carry! Who I am!” Despite this, the goddess remained immobile, as though the sheer fact of what was said held her back. Around them, creatures ducked further into the shadows after the goddess raised her voice, yet were clearly unafraid enough to linger despite the volatile conditions.
Oraelia braced herself and took a step forward. ”I know.” she began. ”It’s true, I don’t know another side of you, I thought I did so long ago but I was naive, Neiya.” Oraelia sighed, clasping her hands together. ”Please, I beg you Neiya. Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay, I promise. Let me help you and we can find out together.” Oraelia said, taking another step closer. She then extended out a hand towards the angry Goddess.
Golden pupils swirled like vortexes, Neiya furiously staring at Oraelia as if that would divine a deeper understanding. Her face kept a mixture of her old fury, but cracks in her armor appeared as the frown faltered and doubt flitted across her features. "I-... No… No," she uttered as she attempted to find her spirit. "I- I made my choices. I hurt Gibbou. Hurt you. This is who I am. I'm unstoppable. Powerful. Desirable. A monster. A predator." Neiya pressed her lips into a thin frown, staring at the extended hand.
Oraelia’s hand did not falter. She frowned however and said, ”You can change Neiya. You can grow. That is the beauty of life.” A single golden tear rolled down her cheek. ”Is that what you think you are? A monster? A predator? Neiya… Is this who you truly want to be? A Goddess too afraid to face the consequences of her actions? Who acts like someone she is not? Trying to fool herself? Fool the world? Neiya. It isn’t working. Please. I can help you.” Oraelia’s voice broke, hand now shaking.
The hurt in the Sun goddess' voice struck Neiya firmly, and visible distress ran over her face, washing away most of her determined anger. For a brief moment, old habits of emotional sharing seemed to call to her, and the horned goddess raised her fingertips slowly in a cautious reach for Oraelia's hand. It was not to be. Moments later, she froze in the motion, exhaling sharply before turning away firmly. "You're trying to trick me!" she exclaimed, lifting up off the ground as both her hands reached up to hold her head. "You're just-just jealous of me! Angry at me! I'm not that- I don't know… I never asked for any of this!"
Oraelia recoiled her hand as if struck. She watched Neiya ascend and did the same, but much slower. ”I am neither angry or jealous of you, Neiya.” she called out to her. ”And I would never trick you! I know you never asked for any of this, none of us did and yet, here we are. All I want is for the fighting to stop, Neiya. I want us to heal, together. Please, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out. Let me help you!”
The Sin goddess ascended higher into the sky, drifting languidly towards the center of the massive vortex that had replaced the sky, requiring Oraelia to pursue. "I showed you once, and I saw the life drain from your eyes," Neiya called, turning halfway to stare down towards Oraelia while still climbing to greater heights. "You don't understand. You don't… don't hear them. I did what I had to do. Yes, what I had to. If they won't improve, someone needs to make them. N-Nothing has changed!"
Oraelia continued on after her, expression bleak. ”Neiya, stop! I’m not afraid! I do understand! I understand because I changed!” Oraelia called out after her. ”Let me show you a different way! You don’t have to force anyone to improve! We naturally improve by growing and learning from our mistakes! Everything changes! Everyone changes! Please just listen to me!” she said, with angry tears falling down her face. What was she going to do if Neiya wouldn’t listen?
But her doubts didn't have time to take root.
"Mistakes?" Neiya began to slow down until she came to a full stop, hovering in the sky halfway to where she had first appeared. Eventually she turned around to face Oraelia properly, her eyes raw with the same hurt that was innate in her base form, but maintained a certain hostility under it. "So I'm a mistake? Just like Cadien, you refuse to see my side. You have already decided what's good for me."
Oraelia came to a stop across from Neiya. ”I never called you a mistake. Don’t twist my words.” she said in a calm tone. She then crossed her arms over her chest and eyed Neiya down. ”Do you really think I’ve decided what’s good for you, Neiya? This entire time I’ve asked you to talk to me, that we can work through your issues together and you have refused. I am a Goddess of Life, I don’t make judgements, I don’t decide fates. I help people grow. I want to help you, please don’t do this.”
The horned goddess scoffed and swept a hand in front of her dismissively. "You don't decide fates because you are weak. Naive. Trusting." she debated with resurging irritation. Golden pupils fixated on Oraelia as Neiya began to drift closer despite her previous attempted escape. "Mortals walk over each other, steal each others' things, and break hearts without a thought. They will do the same to us if allowed. You think I can change? You are blind to why I am this way." Her voice had changed to a sharp and hostile tone, wholly unsuited to her form; but very reminiscent of their previous encounter.
Oraelia looked away from Neiya’s gaze, her posture becoming tense- small. She knew she was naive but… Was she really… Weak? Perhaps she was. Perhaps she had always been. She just tried to help people… Of course she was trusting. One had to be if the world were to become a better place. Golden tears pooled in her eyes as she turned to look at Neiya with reluctance. ”Perhaps I am blind.” she whispered. ”But as blind as I am, I can still see that you are wrong. You look at mortals and see them for all the bad they can be, and you neglect everything about them that makes them good. You do this to yourself Neiya! Because you are afraid. Afraid to feel any different.”
A guttural vocalization akin to a growl rumbled up from the hostile love goddess, and she sprung forward through the sky like a pouncing Leon, arms outstretched as she reached straight for Oraelia in her sudden charge. Her tactics certainly hadn't improved since last time. "I'll show you afraid, cur! You think I want this?! I hate it! I hate them! I hate you!" she shouted angrily as she dove forward, gripping the Sun Goddess’ arms firmly. Oraelia let out a gasp. Why hadn’t she moved? She could have. The realization stark in her mind, but fear had consumed her and now she was in Neiya’s grasp. Without delay, Neiya's eyes turned black and released the torrent of her experiences through their shared contact. Like before, the flood of negative emotions was all powerful and like a dark whirlpool, Oraelia’s light began to fade down it’s crushing despair. She could do nothing. For she was nothing. Neiya was right.
She was weak.
Why was she so weak?
She saw the mortals she had tried to help, flooded with sorrow, heartbreak, lust, and sin. So much sin. Maybe Neiya was right. Maybe mortals never cared. Maybe they couldn’t care. Maybe they had fallen into their own vices because they never knew anything else. Maybe… Maybe life was just some big joke.
Her vision began to fade, eyes going dim, yet she looked upon Neiya’s face and all she felt was pity. Why did Neiya make her feel this way? Why did she inflict such emotions on her? Why did she want to hurt her again? Why couldn’t she just see there was another way?
Why couldn’t she just be love!
Oraelia gasped.
She had been wrong. She had judged Neiya the moment she had entered her realm. For all she ever wanted Neiya to be, was what she had viewed her as, that fateful day in Antiquity. No, that glimpse upon her birth. Oraelia had wanted her to be as she had thought her as, a good and true Goddess of Love and she had wanted to change her to be like that. To be like… Herself.
No matter how much she wanted that to be reality, it wasn’t. She had been a fool.
How could she Judge her?
It wasn’t her place, she was the Goddess of Life. She was meant to… She was meant to watch her life be abused, twisted, broken? She was meant to watch growth and love shatter, murdered, defiled? Was she really letting herself be abused by Neiya again? Like she had abused Gibbou and countless mortals? Her Aiviri?
Was this her life? Was she so weak and powerless to stop cruelty and crimes against it?
No…
It was her right to Judge.
Her eyes bloomed into yellow suns. Clarity washing away the fog of despair. Oraelia grasped Neiya’s arms with her own, her eyes staring deep into her soul as her face relaxed. Then her form began to change. Her golden hair was leached of it’s luminous color, becoming black as the abyss. No longer running down the length of her back, but ending in curls around her shoulders. Her face became impassive, uncaring. Like a stark reflection of Neiya herself. Her eyes retained the same golden color but the kindness that was so often seen inside was replaced with scrutiny. Even her clothes changed, to that of a simple black dress, cut deep in the middle to reveal a tattoo of gold, the same color and glow as her eyes. The pattern faintly resembled a heart with wings, like a constellation, and spread along her arms and legs but stopped upon her chest and rose no further.
She opened her mouth to speak and her voice reflected that of her form, cold but bitter. ”You are not the only one who suffers. Let me show you my pain.”
She began to pour her own emotions and memories into Neiya. Starting upon the very first day she had seen life taken from the world. Before any had been born but the sun and moon. It had almost been unbearable. Then the memories shifted to the tornadoes in her prairie and the devastation they wrought. Then to the Aberrant and her guilt, her failure. Then it jumped to her being ripped out of the world, Lucia’s crying face the last thing she saw. Then to an eerie reflection of Neiya doing the same as she was doing now and how deep it cut her, how long she had anguished in that misery. Then she showed her the pain of Genesis dying and the years of denial. There was a brief flash of all-consuming joy, but it was quickly repressed. To see Gibbou fall time and time again. To the very moment Neiya had grasped her again. Misdeeds and misery.
”Yet.” Oraelia stated, changing the chord of her emotions to that of love and happiness. She was brushing Genesis’ hair, playing games, watching her grow. Hugging Gibbou, being proud of her, doing anything for her. Seeing Lucia and Sanya, Neiya’s own creation, in a love that grew deeper everyday. Then Oraelia showed her mortal love. The small grasp of a newborn, a first kiss, the petting of a Joyf. Acceptance, happiness and joy. The bad was there, ever present, for without it, how could one appreciate what they had? The memories faded and reality swept back in.
”I‘ve learned to not let it consume me.” She finished but then continued, ”Unlike you, Neiya. You fail to realize that love is neither one side or the other, but both. Working together. Your judgment is not sound.”
Neiya, who had reacted with no more than a sharp breath and hostile staring at the grand change taking place before her at first, now stared in apparent awe at the reborn shape that was Oraelia's new form. Her eyes held a distant and morbid fascination with the sun goddess words and mannerisms, but first and foremost her gaze tinged with a serenity that had been rare for the goddess recently. Her rage was quelled almost instantly as pain and anguish was shared, and for a tranquil moment amidst Oraelia's resurgence, Neiya appeared taken with sorrow and sympathy. She had truly spoken her language. That changed with the shift in narrative. When pleasant memories rushed through her, that expression twisted to bewilderment and finally fear. Her irises returned to their golden shape, the dark swirl dying out as the Love Goddess relented in her own assault at last.
That initial bewilderment turned to a restless discomfort, as her sorrowful expression washed away in favour of a growing tension quickly turned to anxious worry, and finally fear. Her nails, which had dug into Oraelia’s arms, now released their grips, and Neiya squirmed to try and wrest free. ”N-No,” she cried fervently, shying away from Oraelia’s visions. ”Stop this! I’ve never-.. It’s a lie! An oasis in the desert! Life cannot be like this-... I didn’t choose this!”
Oraelia did not let go of her. She tilted her head, never moving her gaze away from Neiya’s. ”A lie? No, Neiya. Even an oasis can be found by those who are lost. I realize now that life is a struggle. They crawl over one another, those mortals you hate, striving for greatness and falling time and time again. Most never rise. But those that do, those that endure the hardships, that find their oasis, they thrive. They grow.” Oraelia breathed, releasing Neiya from her grip and then touched a slender hand to her cheek. She used her finger to rub under Neiya’s eye. It was as if Oraelia was searching for something, so fixated was her eyes upon Neiya. She then spoke again, ”The only thing they get to choose is whether or not they keep pushing forward. That’s how the world works. Now you must choose, because no one can help you unless you first help yourself. This, is the judgment you sought.”
Neiya breathed unevenly, her eyes welling up with shimmering dark tears. Her features contracted into an unsteady frown, the Love Goddess doing her best to keep her usual haughty demeanour in the face of an onslaught of repressed emotions, doubts and fears. "All I wanted was peace and quiet," she admitted in a subdued moment of serenity. "Every voice is a creature in pain. A voice unable to make itself heard. But I hear them."
Oraelia said nothing, her eyes growing soft. Instead, she moved her hand to the back of Neiya’s head, and pulled her into an embrace upon her chest. She then used her other hand to wrap the Love Goddess in a squeeze of warmth. She then spoke in a more relaxed voice ”I know.”
The horned goddess remained placid in the embrace, golden eyes closing as she was simply held. A few moments later, she quivered gently in Oraelia's hold, and released a few silent sobs. For a long time, she seemed to simply linger, silently crying in another's embrace. Her form acted reactively to her mood, and her skin slowly twisted pale, while black horns began to sprout from her form. The goddess slowly shifted back to her traditional form, pale and sorrow-tinted.
When Neiya spoke, it was sullen and guarded. Still it appeared to be a request, if only because her tone wasn't demanding. "Show me."
There came a soft breath from Oraelia, and a warm finger found its way to Neiya’s cheek again. The moment they touched, Oraelia showed her memories she was ashamed of, that she tried to repress and forget. It all started with a simple berry. Vivid in color, joyous in taste and destructive. She ate them to forget the pain, to forget her life and her purpose. All she wanted to do was be happy. That’s all. No more pain. The memories shifted to what she did. Giving the humans of the highlands eternal fields of food, failing to see what grew within them. To arm monsters who destroyed her city with a weapon and even giving a Neiyari tools he could use to live forever. The reasons were there, induced by a sense of wanting to do right. Having to help, no matter the cost. Needing to be useful. She had caused so much pain.
The memories faded away.
”I know…” Oraelia repeated with a solemn tone in her voice. It was enough to make Neiya return the embrace properly, the horned goddess exhaling sharply. Oraelia made no sound, but returned the embrace all the same.
Neiya breathed a forlorn and deep breath, as if to steel herself for what was to come. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I… It just… everything happened so fast, it was… I had to try. I… I think I'm broken, Oraelia. Being in charge feels so good. So easy. As.. as long as I don't think about it."
”It’s alright, Neiya. I forgave you.” She paused, then asked, ”Can I show you something?”
There was quiet for a time, a weird tranquility amidst the raging torrent above and the strange calls of animals in the realm below. Eventually Neiya simply nodded against Oraelia's form, remaining in the embrace.
There was a flash of light and the two found themselves in another memory. One that Oraelia held close in the days of her youth. The Sun Goddess stood before humans, mourning the dead. A baby cried and she asked to see what they had seen. A simple touch, no more, no less. It rocketed them to the past, there beside the river.
A whirlpool formed.
Something, no- Someone rose from the water.
For a brief second, there she was. Neiya.
But it was not the Neiya any would know. For that Neiya existed for the briefest of moments, untouched and unrefined. Her form was simply that of a young woman, shouldered with impossible burdens. Before the pain came. So visible across her face and from the maelstrom of emotion that followed.
Oraelia’s voice ushered in a calming aura as the memory played out further. ”I latched myself onto that form of you. That perception I had fabricated in my head was of Love and how I thought it should be. I stared at the other side, right in the face, and I could not comprehend it at the time. I wanted you to be as I wanted you to be. But that was wrong of me, I see that now.” The memory began to fade away, turning the land white before reality ushered forth. Oraelia talked more, stroking the back of Neiya’s head with gentle fingers. ”Being in charge is difficult, even for a god. Even if it feels good, we often lose ourselves. But I can say with confidence, you are not broken. Lost, perhaps. Still trying to find your way. Like I am. Like many of us are.” She paused as if in thought. ”I want you to know that I believe she still exists somewhere deep down, Neiya. But I won’t change you, for that is a decision you will have to make for yourself. All I ask right now, is we stop our fighting. Please… No one needs to get hurt anymore.” Oraelia finished in a murmur.
What Neiya thought of the vision she didn't seem keen to share, simply remaining under Oraelia's vigil. Coaxed into a response by the life goddess' words, she offered a simple commitment. "...Okay." For a time that was all she wished to say, until guilt, restlessness or doubt pushed her to elaborate. "I'd like to try."
Oraelia let out a soft sigh, her embrace growing warmer as she rested her cheek upon Neiya’s forehead. There was more silence between the two, but unlike before, it was blissful. ”Thank you.” Oraelia at last said. ”That would make me very happy, Neiya. Yet... There is… There is one thing I think that needs to be done this day as well. What I did to the Neiyari… I’m sorry. Had I known what Rhiona was planning I would have stopped her and as such, it welcomed a challenge. Even now I can feel it spreading… So I ask you, Neiya- Might we forgive our curses as a start?”
The horned goddess opened her eyes to look up at Oraelia, the ordinarily tall love goddess seeming to shrink as they drifted in the sky. A glittering in her eyes remained, emotion raw and thoughtful in her gaze as she pondered Oraelia's words; even now a wounded kernel of doubt lingered in every mannerism. A built in fear of being betrayed worn plainly on her sleeve. "You will allow the Neiyari to flower again? Even though you hate them?"
Oraelia tilted her head as she looked at Neiya in return. The Goddess then resumed her caressing of Neiya’s hair and spoke, ”Oh Neiya… I don’t think I ever truly hated them. I was distraught upon their birth but…” Her voice seemed to die a little before resuming, ”Even they can change, I think. If they are shown a better way. Both the Oraeliari and Neiyari are… Incomplete. You know this as well as I. They function as they are but they could be so much more. Dooming the Neiyari would destroy any chance of seeing that future. So yes, I will allow them to flower again. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me and the Oraeliari.”
Neiya raised her gaze to search for Oraelia's eyes, her own burning with a morose guilt. The pacified love goddess breathed sharply, as if trying to escape the tension of decision and responsibility. Still, Oraelia’s words seemed to pace the way for even the most self-centered of goddesses to acquiesce. "...Yes. I can… I mean, I do. I forgive you." Neiya raised her own hand and placed it against the changed life goddess' chest. It was another flush of emotion, of guilt and pain, but considerably more reserved and contemplative than any previous assault. Around them, a melody woven into the storm of the vortex in the sky seemed to dissipate and dissolve, quietly fading into oblivion. The Sorrowsong vanished, withdrawn from reality.
Oraelia closed her eyes at the touch, a small smile forming on her lips. She took a deep breath and then looked at Neiya again. ”Thank you… It is done.” She then looked around the sky and gave a small, but peaceful sigh. ”I always thought your realm was beautiful, in its own way.” Her gaze lingered on the multitude of beasts so far below before she looked back at Neiya, cupping on her hands to the Love Goddess’ cheek. ”It’s not my place to say what goes on within another’s realm but… Perhaps you should give them a chance to choose their own fates?” she cooed.
Neiya seemed to consider the words and her gaze fell briefly, the sensations passed on to Oraelia mingling with a primal, petty shame. "I've never been pleased with it. Nothing is like what we left." She murmured sullenly, glancing down towards the ground below herself. "I've never created anything of my own before. Even these… were a mistake."
With a gentle pull, Oraelia brought Neiya’s face back to her. ”The only mistakes we make are ones where we don’t try hard enough. When we give up.” She gave another small smile and then took Neiya’s hand within her own, causing the love goddess to widen her eyes in passive alarm. ”Come. I will help you.” And Oraelia began to guide her down. Neiya breathed unevenly, following Oraelia like an uncertain visitor in her own home, gaze fixed on the goddess.
Below, animals that had gathered began to scatter as the shapes in the sky grew closer. The bipedal creatures were horned women in the colors of the rainbow, pale imitations of their creator. Hounds of shadow slinked back into the crevasses of the jagged landscape. They appeared to fear the mere presence of the divine, perhaps not without cause. The two Goddess touched down on a flat rock that overlooked the horned women. Oraelia gave Neiya’s hand a squeeze as she stood next to her. ”How and why they came to be does not matter now. What does matter is how their future might look. It can be shaped and added to. I suggest… For a start… Give them the gift of intelligence?” she asked in a soothing, but reassuring voice.
Neiya peered at the life goddess as though she had suggested something truly new and riveting, her gaze soon twisting to regard the scattering creatures. She closed her raw eyes, drawing a long and heavy breath. As she exhaled, an eldritch whisper carried on the wind, imperceptible to all but the divine. A call to awaken and ascend, setting alight a thousand minds at once. All about the jagged landscape, something slowly changed in the bipedal creatures, a renewed and deliberative caution with which to perceive the world. Question and curiosity.
Oraelia watched with humble curiosity. ”Very good Neiya. You see? You created them all by yourself. Take pride in that accomplishment.” She spoke in a whisper.
Neiya glanced back to Oraelia, her expression of doubt and guilt growing to a taut, thin frown. She turned back towards the landscape and lifted her free hand. From her fingertips coiled ripples of divine power, dusting the landscape and coating the newly awakened creatures. One by one, their eyes brightened and produced the same soft glow as Neiya's own, hiding their pupils behind red, blue, yellow or green. It seemed to have an immediate effect on them, as the horned creatures seemed to panic and view their surroundings with renewed fascination in equal measure. "...Something to help them choose… she justified morosely. A few among the creatures appeared to approach the two, kneeling and offering their implicit worship.
”Ah, I see.” Oraelia mused. She then did the same as Neiya, raising her free hand and waving it over them. The power that shot forth rippled and pulsed, entering their hearts by unseen currents. Most stood taller, their postures reflecting the change. ”Something to help them act.” Oraelia said. ”I hope you won’t mind.” she turned to Neiya.
Neiya watched the change unfold in her creations, then turned to regard Oraelia. "...No, I don't mind." Her hand moved to touch the life goddess' cheek as she turned halfway to face her, demanding but without the threatening imposition she usually carried herself with. "You truly believe all things can change, don't you?"
Oraelia pressed herself into the touch and stifled a breath. ”For better or for worse… Yes.” she confided. ”I do.”
For but a moment the horned goddess appeared to smile, brief and hard to see but still a genuine reaction to the words. Neiya leaned forwards towards the new and altered Oraelia, gaze falling over her form in tempered curiosity. Finally, her scrutiny fell on the sun goddess' face, as she leaned in to touch her own forehead against Oraelia's. "...Naive." she muttered softly.
Oraelia’s lips turned into a smile. In that new form, it was rather mischievous and knowing. She closed her eyes and took in the moment between them, arms and hands wrapping around the love goddess to embrace her once more. ”I know.” She breathed at last.
Neiya remained motionless for a long time, simply watching the life goddess. Her eyes roiled with purpose, golden flashes in their irises sparking like small eruptions of flame. Eventually she sighed a quiet "You should go."
Oraelia hesitantly pulled away, her smile fading. Doubt crossed her face but she nodded. ”It was… Good to see you Neiya. If you need me, please, don’t be a stranger.” Oraelia gave another nod, then walked past her, lingering for a moment by her side before continuing on. The portal was in view and as she walked, the creatures and beings of Neiya’s realm parted. As she arrived at the portal, Oraelia turned around to gaze upon Neiya again, and found the pale goddess watching her wistfully from afar. She almost raised her hand, but stopped, then stepped through leaving the realm of sorrow behind.
Unbeknownst to her, her departure inspired the same in several curious young horned creatures, eager to see what the world had to offer.
Oraelia is super nervous about going to see Neiya. Then she hears all the prayers from her Oraeliari about the curse Neiya has wrought. Feeling guilty and now full of determination she goes to Neiya’s realm and finds it really chaotic when she arrives. Neiya eventually shows up yelling in her succubus form and the two begin a back and forth of pleas and shouts. Oraelia is trying real hard to get through Neiya’s emotional armor and she is succeeding but things take a turn and Neiya flies up into the air, given chase by Oraelia. More things are said and Neiya gets upset so she does the same thing she did when they first met, and conveys an emotional flood upon Oraelia. Oraelia gets super duper depressed and wonders why she is so weak.
She has a bit of an epiphany during their grasp and takes on a new form. One of Judgement. She then grasps Neiya by the arms and shows her all her pain, then love. This shocks Neiya and she settles down, allowing Oraelia to break through to her. Instead of beating Neiya down further, Oraelia does the opposite and ends up embracing her, showing her lowest point- her time high as a kite with joy berries. Neiya then realizes Oraelia does understand her and she becomes more open to change as they continue to talk and make up. And to further end the fighting between them, they agree to undo the curses they set in the Luminant to foster peace.
Oraelia then convinces Neiya to help her creatures in her realm and she does so, bestowing intelligence upon the furies as well as both of them giving them abilities. They then depart reluctantly and some Furies leave Neiya’s realm as well.
Oraelia 5/5
-5MP For Judgment Domain
0MP The fertility curse upon the Neiyari in the Luminant has been broken.
-2DP Towards Punishment. (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies have been imbued with the essence of Judgment. They are capable of punishing those who have sinned in the name of the Goddess by physical immolation. This right has been granted to them and etched into their souls by divine mandate. They only punish those who commit immoral acts decreed by Oraelia and only if there is no other way. Given their other gifts, they fill a role that most species are unable to.
-2DP Towards Repentance (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies have also been given another ability through Judgment. In order to carry out a punishment and to temper their own rage, Oraelia has given them an inclination for repentance. They are capable of steering wayward sinners onto the path of redemption by conveying emotional understanding for one’s wrongs and misdeeds.
-1DP Blessing of Compassion. To further reduce their rageful tendencies, Oraelia has blessed the first generation of furies with a greater sense of compassion for other life.
0/0
Neiya 5/5
0 MP - The Sorrowsong curse on the Oraeliari in the Luminant has been dispelled.
1 MP - Uplifted the Furies to sentience.
2 MP - (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies have been imbued with exceptional sight, and are able to pick out living creatures in darkness as though it was daytime. Inanimate objects are mere contours and silhouettes, like regular darkness.
2 MP - (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies speak the same divine language as their creator, and transcend mortal language barriers. Their words are understood by all but the most ignorant, and they understand all who speak a mortal tongue.
2 DP - (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies have been granted the ability to perceive sin. Particularly debauched mortals appear tinged in a color reflecting their sins, and Furies can concentrate to bring these auras out of most people, to identify their vices.
1 DP - Taught Furies about the concepts of friendship, love, betrayal, sin and virtue.
1 DP - Taught Furies about conflict and the idea of war.
1 DP - Assaulted Oraelia with some sweet sad emotion juju.
Gebu's light was small, but a thin crescent so far away in the night sky. It painted the land dark, with moonlight coming through the clouds. Perhaps it would rain after all, but Zayd did not care at the moment. His father’s words haunted him, filling his head with such frustrating rage. So he ran away from his home, past the fields and gardens and off into the valley of his youth. A place that was even more familiar to him then home, where his siblings and cousins played, where he met Elena. But that was years ago. Now it was barely used except for the occasional game of hide and seek with the young ones and sparring practice with his brothers. That was where he was headed, down into the valley. More of a large cut in the land, like a giant of old had come along and scooped up the dirt and rock and threw it far away into the sea. That was what baba had said anyway, he was one with many stories and it seemed, some secrets.
There was a cave down at the bottom of the valley, large enough to walk in and wide enough to stay for the night. It was also where they kept some old dull swords and firewood. Though the supply probably wouldn't last him the night. It had, once upon a time, been a place where they had sat and watched a mighty storm pass. The wind had gotten so strong that Imraan had fallen onto a sharp rock, cutting his arm open. That was the first time he had seen Saban act so serious. Zayd cracked a grin at the memory of them huddled around a fire, retelling stories from baba as the storm calmed down. Those were the good days, before his fateful adventure. Now his brothers got to go off and be soldiers, making names for themselves. As his father said. He growled and shook his head. It should have been him! Saban had a life here, as the eldest son. He was not the soldier type, he-he loved to make pottery and use dyes to give them stories. He could die.
Saban could die and it would be his fault.
As he neared the rock face that held the entrance of the cave down below, he looked for the path down, giving little care to the thicket of twisting vines and grasses, overgrown by neglect that grabbed and cut him. He pushed his way through grunting as sticky barbs caught on his clothing and his frustration only grew as he got snagged on sticks in the dark. Yet he knew what to look for, a very large tree root that had grown out of the side of the dirt and over the edge, so he kept going. Thick vines had sprouted from it that twisted back into the dirt to survive and they made a misshapen path down. The drop itself wasn't far by any means, but a fall in the dark could be deadly. Wouldn’t that be great?
His hands found what he was looking for at last and without waiting, he began his descent. The air was turning cool as the nightly chorus of spring peepers made their calls. Something flew past his head, followed by a small 'squee' and Zayd almost lost his grip on the roots. He took a deep breath, face relaxing as he regained his composure, then kept going. When his feet touched the soft ground, he sighed in relief knowing that the hard part of the journey was over. Now it was just making a fire with what he could see and find...To make a larger fire. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance but a flicker caught his eye.
Before him sat the cave, it’s mouth like a black abyss, but farther in he could see a light flickering across the cave walls. He squinted, then rubbed his eyes making sure the darkness wasn’t playing tricks on him. No, the light was still there. He felt his heart begin to beat faster as questions entered his mind. Who could be out here? One of his cousins? Someone else? Now he had a decision to make, keep going and find out or turn back and go home.
He frowned. The darkness had set in, making it back home would be a challenge that would take him far too long. Caution, that was what he needed. He rummaged around the area for a suitable stick and when he found one that was strong enough to wield, he crept forth. He had no idea what he was going to find, or even why he was doing it. His mother would call him a reckless fool, his father would also call him a fool but baba… Baba would have called him brave.
He’d show them. If this was some vagabond or criminal, he’d show them just how capable he was! Even if he couldn’t talk, that didn’t mean he was less brave. He’d show them all, especially his father. His grip tightened and his brow narrowed.
As the light source grew, he could make out it was behind a low wall on the cave floor, where behind it, the cave got lower. It was a good place to sleep, as a fire would reflect off the rocks and warm someone cold up further. As he neared the wall, he crouched, feeling energized. Like he could strike and take down a bull. But that only masked his uneasiness. Was it fear or anticipation that he felt with each slow step?
Something rustled behind the wall and he froze mid step. There was then a banging of something, then silence. Zayd brought his foot down quietly as he waited for the noise to continue but it never did. Taking a deep breath, he moved forward and reached the wall. There he leaned against it and very slowly peered over to see a very strange sight.
A figure wrapped up in a brown cloak sat huddled next to a dying fire, hood obscuring their face. Gloved hands were cautiously holding a skewered stick over the flame. The smell of something burnt filled his nostrils and Zayd grimaced. He had no idea what they were cooking but knew they weren’t doing a good job. The figure turned his back to him as they rummaged through a sack behind them, giving Zayd the opportunity to crane his neck over a little more. He could see a makeshift bedroll and a long stick with a whittled point. He also caught a glimpse of red. Between the cloak and a gloved hand, he could see skin. Why was it red? A trick of the light perhaps?
They turned around and Zayd ducked, cutting his hand on a protruding rock and breaking the tip. For a split second his lips curled in pain before the rock hit the ground, and his pain was forgotten. There was quiet now, he could hear his heart beating fast. What did he do? What did he do! Could he run for it? Could he fight them? His early thoughts about showing everyone just how capable he was seemed to drain away.
He took a gulp and then ran.
Before he even took three steps, he felt something whack him in the leg and he fell forward. His hands took the brunt of the blow, but it only agitated his cut further. His face contorted into pain and he flipped over to see the hooded figure holding their spear in one hand and a long, polished knife in the other. His eyes went wide and panic took him. He was not brave. He was a fool! A stupid fool! A dead fool!
He began to back away but grimaced again his cut hand touched the floor. He cradled it and did what he could to back up as the hooded figure watched him. Then with speed the figure ran at him and placed the spear point at his chest, hovering over it poised for the killing blow.
Zayd froze, eyes going wide. This was it. This is how he died. All he felt was dread. The terror of knowing his life would be unfulfilled.
“Why-” The being spoke in a voice like honeydew, “Why you come?” Simple sounding words, accusatory and agitated. Zayd exhaled, maybe he wasn’t going to die just yet. But… Now for the hard part. How would he communicate?
“Answer!” She said pressing the point closer to his chest. It had to be a woman. There was no way any man could have a voice like that. But he had been wrong before. What a silly thought to have in such a situation.
He raised his hand slowly and then shook it, pointing to his throat.
“No… Speak?”
He nodded his head and then opened his mouth to show her he had no tongue.
A small gasp came from under the hood.
“No tongue?” She said rhetorically. “Who cut?” She then asked, removing the spear tip from his immediate chest.
Zayd frowned and looked away. How could he even begin to tell that story?
“Hm. Is okay. Come to take?” She questioned, once again putting the spear tip closer.
The sudden change brought Zayd back to himself and he shook his head and hands in frantic succession. Why would she be taken?
Her hooded head shifted to his cut hand. It was at that point she dropped the spear and crouched next to him, inspecting his hand. Her hood still obscured her face but Zayd knew just because he couldn’t see her, that didn’t mean she couldn’t see him. He needed to play it cool and what… What was she doing?
She brought a hand to her mouth and a moment later a glove was falling from her hood to the cave floor. A slender hand was revealed, colored red with veins of green. It took him a moment to realize just what he was looking at, but then her flesh touched his and he recoiled slightly. Her hands were unnaturally soft, almost like a… Like the bud of a new leaf…
She removed her other glove in the same fashion and her grip on his hand tightened as she used her fingers to feel his wound. He squinted as pain jolted through him.
“It alright. No hurt.” She spoke as if she wasn’t really paying attention to him, but more of an afterthought. “Cut deep. Will mend.”
Her words confused him but before he could try to protest, his hand became very itchy. He breathed out through his nose and looked to see her hands cupping his. Whatever she was doing felt wrong but the itchy feeling dulled and before her knew it, two crimson eyes were staring at him.
Deep maroon, glowing dim beneath her hood. She faced him now and asked, “Better?”
Zayd could hardly take his eyes off of the strange sight, his face going blank as his thoughts rushed to him. He blinked and looked over to his cut hand… But it was no longer cut. Just stained with drying blood. He flexed his fingers and felt no pain, then feeling her eyes still on him, he looked back to her.
She was sitting on her knees, removing her hood. Zayd’s mouth slowly parted in a state of awe as he looked upon her face. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.
Human-like in appearance, that was where the similarities ended. It was not skin that made up her narrow face and sunken cheeks, or her dainty nose set above those thin lips of red. He gulped. That face of hers was crimson in color, with light green around her almond shaped eyes that seemed to accentuate her features. The green was around her lips as well but fainter. Even her hair, if one could call it hair, wasn’t like his- but it acted in the same way. Like… Leaves. Long leaves of crimson red and veins of the same green upon her face. Her leaf hair went down past her shoulders and looked… Matted? Or unkept? It was hard to tell. So that was what she was… There was no flesh and skin but leaves and plant. She was… She was one of them!
She glared at him, then pointed at his hand. “Better?”
He nodded yes in quick succession and tried to force a smile but it didn’t feel right. She could tell as a frown pursed her lips.
“Scared?” She asked.
He shook his head. He wasn’t scared, just taken aback.
“No scared?” Her lips tugged into a grin. “Should be. I dangerous. I fierce.”
He froze at those words, taking her in again. There was something about her demeanor that made him crack a genuine smile.
She glared again and stood up.
“Go.”
His smile died and Zayd’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
She brandished her spear again and slammed the butt on the ground.
“You go!”
He backed away, getting to his feet. It was then he saw just how small she was. She only came up to about the base of his neck. Even moreso, her arms were so thin and she looked gaunt. How was that even possible? She took a step forward and pointed the spear at him, her eyes glaring at him. How could such a dark color be so alive?
He began to back away but on a hunch, he stopped and pointed at her. She froze in her tracks, unsure of what to do. Zayd then pointed at his stomach and mouthed the word, ‘hungry’ to her. She looked confused at first, but as he mouthed the word again and rubbed his belly, he could see her face begin to light up with hopeful recognition. He took a step forward but that seemed to draw a line as she scowled.
“No! I fine! You go!” She shouted with anger.
Not wanting to upset her anymore, Zayd turned and left, glancing over his shoulder to see those crimson eyes watching him fade into the darkness. As soon as he exited the cave, he went to the side and sat down up against the rock face. The night was cool now and without a fire, he would not be sleeping well. He could return home but… His thoughts were on her. She had helped him but why?
And those words of hers… Zayd knew where those came from. Even if she wasn’t a human, it was pride that drove help away. Wanting to do everything by yourself. He felt ashamed in that moment, thinking of earlier back at home. He knew she was probably starving but… Didn’t plants grow best in sunlight? So that meant… She was doing this to herself? Why?
He didn’t have time to ponder that question, for from the brush came the snapping of a branch and a low rumble that reverberated into his chest. Zayd shot up in an instant, heart beginning to beat fast. From across the ravine’s floor, upon a low cut ledge sparsely overgrown and illuminated by Gebu, he saw two smoldering eyes. Like burning coals. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and Zayd felt an overwhelming urge to run. It growled again and another set of eyes appeared next to the first.
The first emerged from the undergrowth, a creature like an inky black mass that… Moved. Rippling with veins… Like snakes of pulsing red. It’s snout parting to reveal sharp, barb-like teeth. Black viscera drooling to the floor as steamy breath entered the night. The other emerged, looking much the same, except it was smaller.
They stood watching him. Zayd could hear his heart beating. He needed to go. Needed to run.
But it was too late for that.
For they came.
Our young protagonist is angry and runs away from home, down into a ravine that was said to be made by ‘giants’. It’s known to him where his brothers and cousins played in their youth. In the dark he arrives, knowing there is a cave with some wood inside that could be used for a fire. When he gets there he finds it already being used and in a series of unfortunate events, he gets caught after cutting his hand on a rock. A tense conversation follows with the stranger, even though he can’t talk.
She eventually reveals herself (For she was wearing a hood, duh) and Zayd is surprised by what he sees. She eventually heals him then tells him to get out. He can’t really argue but before he leaves he finds out she is hungry. Not knowing where to go he ponders some stuff and settles down outside the cave. But the sudden noise of a branch being broken jolts him awake and he comes face to face with two monsters.
Rain washed away the salt upon his face as the sun stared at him in front of dark clouds. The crashing of waves was as consistent as each of his breaths. Roaring like a monster behind him, lapping at his feet. So many faces, so many neutral stares. Blank, impassive. They watched him like vultures watch their prey. Hungrily, waiting for the inevitable. He was defiant, he was strong, even in the face of such impervious cruelty.
Yet he would fail and they knew.
It made his blood boil.
All had been going so well. For more than a decade he was in charge, he was a king! A RULER! A CHAMPION! A GOD!
Anything he said was decreed law, anything he made was decreed divine, every breath he took, every woman he made his- It was his right. For they were inferior. The Gods had made it so! He took them from their lowest point and made them strong! Forged them into something new, something better!
And what did they have to show for it?
Nothing but contempt. Of Pity.
They had fostered such resentment, such fear, that at the moment their destiny was made clear, was made absolute, they faltered and sneered. They did not want him, an outsider, this GOD made flesh.
His grip tightened on his mace. The mere thought of such betrayal made him grimace, then snarl.
Was that how it was?
Fine!
If they would not listen to him in the face of such danger, in front of such lies and slander, then they were not worthy of his time. They would all of them die and he would do it but first…
He turned to the sun, made manifest and pointed his mace at it. The giant came on the eve of his war, his war he had planned so meticulously. From the druids upon his ‘land’ to the ‘replacing’ of those pathetic chiefs who would not fall in line. Before him had gathered the largest army the Litus tribes had ever seen. Would EVER see. And now, at the mention of this disapproval, this ‘divine’ decree, they had stopped. They had questioned their ways that had made them so great. And now he faced the sun alone, for they were cowards and fools to believe what it said. You could NOT trust a GOD!
The Daemon placed his helmet upon his head and with a defiant roar he barrelled forward to the giant.
There was a bright flash and then he was tumbling down a hill of stone, breaking sticks and twigs with each crack. The light was bright here and he could barely keep his eyes open long enough to see. When he finally came to a stop, he laid still for several moments, trying to register what had occurred.
He at last sat up and removed his helmet to meet a wave of crushing heat and a sea of red all around him.
Malri let out a frustrated roar.
A lone warrior faces down an impossible adversary. His tirade of terror comes to a swift end as he is banished to a land far away.
“Come on come on!” Elena shouted, voice full of fright as her brown hair whipped in the wind of her own feet. They ran through the woods, sticks and brambles poking and scraping them with every step. Every frantic step. It felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest but they kept going and all the while, Elena held tight to that basket.
A dog howled behind them, it was getting closer now, followed by the sound of Yazif’s men. They whooped and shouted, egging the dog ever towards its quarry. Them. They weaved through the forest, hoping to make it to the river. That way they could lose the dog and it was so close, he could see the break in the trees!
But one wrong step by Elena, and it was over. She tumbled to the ground, her basket of ill gotten fruit spilling out onto dry leaves and yellow grass, like bright jewels. He stopped in his tracks and went to his friend but Elena protested. “Zayd go! Run!” she shouted but it was futile. He wouldn’t leave her behind. How could he?
She gave no protest when he began to help her up, but by that point it was too late. There came a deep growl, and Zayd whipped around to see the black hound of Yazif, teeth bared and hackles raised. He froze with fear, staring into it’s yellow eyes. Footsteps followed it not long after, and three men came running towards them. Zayd tried to fight back but it was no use, a punch to his stomach sent the wind out of him and he felt Elena be ripped from his grasp. She screamed, the dog barked and Zayd fell to his hand and knees, gasping for breath.
Someone whistled and in an instant the dog stopped barking and whined. He lifted his head up to see Yazif, wearing his family robes of crimson, emerge from the trees. Elena was held by one man, but her eyes were on Zayd. Blue eyes brimmed with tears.
“Did you really think you could steal from me and run away? In broad daylight no doubt! I mean, honestly,” he came over and grabbed Zayd’s hair, lifting his head up. The smell of stale ale permeated from his lips, “You kids aren’t the smartest in the bunch and oh, you’ve wasted it.” His eyes fell upon the spoiled fruits. Yazif frowned, his black hair greasy and unwashed as he moved it out of his eyes.
“Well, let’s get this over with. You know the price for stealing.” He pulled out a long, copper knife from his robe. “Shall I start with you or the girl?” Zayd’s eyes glanced at Elena and Yazif wrenched him free from his grasp, landing with a grunt.
“Girl it is.” Yazif said without a hint of emotion.
“No! No! It was me! It was my idea! I wanted your fruits, not her. I-I-I dragged her into this. Don’t punish her! Please!” Zayd shouted, trying to get to his feet, but he was shoved to the ground again.
Yazif turned to him and crouched down. “Oh, is that so? Well then, I suppose that means instead of a finger, I’ll take a hand.” Zayd began to breath faster as his anticipation grew at an alarming rate. A sickness he had never felt welled up inside, almost making him throw up. Yet he felt himself lifted, arm outstretched as he fought back but it was no use. Yazif lifted the knife higher and then-
“No! It was me!” Elena shouted, “It was my idea, don’t listen to him! Punish me, not him. Not him.” She cried, no longer struggling against her captor.
For the first time, Yazif looked amused. “You know girl, I believe you. It takes a certain type to take the blame for another. Honorable even. But, all it really does is make him a liar. A lying thief, at that.” Yazif touched the tip of the blade to his cheek and stroked his goatee as he looked between the two of them. Then he laughed, a cruel smile forming on his lips, “Fine, I won’t take his hand. But I will take his tongue.” And he gave a nod.
A grimy hand grabbed his cheek, Elena began to scream in protest and before he knew it, his mouth was being pulled open. He couldn’t bite down, all he could do was panic and plead like some pathetic creature. Some pathetic creature that couldn’t even speak. Was that his future?
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be boy, or we’ll take something a little more sensitive.” Yazif sneered, gesturing with the blade. “Trust me, you’d rather keep that then a tongue.”
Zayd’s eyes went wide at the thought of that- He wanted to be a man and not… With a great amount of reluctance, he stuck out his tongue and felt the taste of metal as Yazif pressed the flat of the blade on his tongue. Yazif was toying with him, even now. The anticipation was beginning to take its toll on Zayd, as tears and snot ran down his face.
“Remember boy,” Yazif said, flipping the blade up.”Women are never worth it.”
There was a sharp sting, a flash of pain and the loss of something dear. Something needed.
He could feel a warm liquid fill his mouth as the world became a fog. Elena’s screams and Yazif’s laughter fading into the black abyss of sweet silence.
Several Years Later
Zayd ran his fingers through the dry dirt. The sun was beating down on his bare back, only adding to the stifling heat of the day. There was no breeze to be had and no rain cloud in sight but the work had to be done with or without the few comforts the gods could afford. As his baba had always said. Now that old man looked down on them, probably laughing at their misery.
He smirked at the thought, worming his index finger into the dirt to make a hole. He then grabbed the bag of chickpea seeds and took one out. He looked it over, making sure it was healthy. Satisfied, he placed it into the hole, then pushed the dirt over the seed and gave it a slight pat. That was one down, and now… He looked over the small field he found himself in, half was planted and the other half still needed seeds. He breathed out his nose and grimaced. Then got to work.
Later that night after the planting was done for the day, he went back to the homestead. Several huts sat around a large opening, cobbled together with stone, mud and clay. Draped with colorful cloth and drying clothes, it was a hectic place. He was not the only one who called it home and that was apparent when a band of children came to greet him. Running, whooping and hollering in the dying light of Oraliyah. For Zayd came from a large family. A very large family.
His father and his brothers all called it home with their wives and children, having come to settle there with baba and his wives. For baba had come from the old stock, from the west, having won his freedom and fortune by chance one fateful day, or so baba had said. As he walked to his father’s hut, Zayd could hardly count all the faces of his cousins, nieces, and nephews. There was great laughter here, infectious with each passing step and Zayd did his best to greet everyone with a wave and a smile. The very air smelled wonderful, full of spices and cooking things. It made his mouth water and his stomach growl. He picked up his pace, for he knew his mother would have the nightly supper ready.
Before he could enter his family's hut however, his older brother, Saban erupted from the door as if he had been waiting for him. He was pulled to the side of the house and out of sight from anyone. Saban’s curly hair was unkempt and his face still yet to be washed, was grimy. Zayd frowned, pushing Saban’s hands off of him. He raised his eyebrows and Saban began to grin like a fool.
“Zayd, my brother, you are looking fine today. Perhaps a bit too smelly for mother’s liking but that just means you worked hard, yes?” He spoke in a silky voice, the type that made one know where this conversation was going to go. Zayd shoved him in return and began to walk away. Saban grabbed his wrist. “Okay okay! Brother please, listen to what I have to say! You’ll like this I swear.”
Zayd turned to him and crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side as he stared at his brother.
“You know how mother and father want you to wed Nashwa?” He could hardly contain his smile now.
Zayd grimaced and stood straighter, that was a topic of contention of late. He did not want to wed that woman. She was far too needy and loved to be pampered, even her voice made him cringe. Zayd outstretched his hands and shook them at Saban. His brother chuckled.
“Relax, Zayd. Today they found out she’s going to wed some snob from Artikulah. You’re saved!” Saban clasped his shoulders and Zayd let out a large sigh of relief. That was wonderful news. He then grabbed Saban’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes, nodding his head in question.
“Yes yes, I am sure of it. Mother tells me everything, remember?” Saban’s smile faded as he looked to the floor. Zayd’s eyes narrowed and he shook him. “There is some other news, I’m afraid. The captain of the guard in Artikulah… He demanded every house under their ‘protection’ deliver them two sons of age, in accordance with the old ways. For war.” Saban squeezed his shoulder. “Father is sending myself and Imraan.”
Zayd gulped and began to shake his head as his face turned into a scowl. He would go give his father a piece of his mind on this. He knew it should be him! Not Saban! As he tried to free himself from Saban,his brother did not let him go.
Instead he spoke, “It’s the only way, Zayd. Imraan has always wanted to be one with the sword, you’ve known that the moment he could wield one to practice and I, I do my duty for my family.”
Zayd looked away from Saban, a wash of emotions welling up inside, wanting to burst forth.
“Zayd, look at me. Look at me!” Saban said in a stern voice and he did after a moment.
“This is not your fault brother. Do not blame yourself, this is for the best. Just trust me. Let’s just go and eat alright? Mother has made your favorite.” He cracked a small grin.
Zayd nodded and when Saban finally let him go, he bolted.
“Zayd no!” Saban called after him as they entered the house.
He found his parents and siblings around the table. All eyes fell on him as he entered the room, pointing at himself. Why wouldn’t you pick me? Why why why? He wanted to shout, but all he could do was point at himself, shaking his head in anger.
“Zayd, what the matter?” His mother asked, raising from the table.
Saban then arrived and his mother looked to his father, who he had not taken his eyes off of. He was a large man with an even larger beard. His laughter could shake the whole house but at that moment, all he could see was a betrayer.
“Saban, you didn’t.” His mother began to shake her head.
“I- wanted him to hear from me. I thought he would understand if I explained it.” His brother said.
“Oh Saban.” His mother frowned.
The rest of his siblings all grew quiet as his father finished the piece of meat he was eating. He took a drink and then said, “Sit down and eat my sons. We can discuss this tomorrow.”
Zayd shook his head and stomped his foot on the ground.
Now his father stood and everyone seemed to grow still. “What do you want me to say!” He slammed a fist onto the table and the rest of his children scattered, leaving the oldests among them remaining. Imraan, Saban and Eshe, his older sister.
“Kaid, please.” His mother said in a pensive tone, hands on the table.
“Salma, not now. If the boy wants to know why I won’t send him in Saban’s stead, then he can learn a hard truth.” His father said, brushing off his shirt. Zayd relaxed his shoulders and crossed his arms again, looking hard at his father. Waiting for whatever lie he was going to be told.
“Don’t give me that look Zayd. You have no idea what this means for this family. This is a great honor, to be in service to the Hash’Lahan, to mean something! So they can make names for themselves, your brothers! Be happy for them, for they will be able to have multiple wives like baba! They can have their own land like baba! They won’t have to be stuck in one place forever like us!” He looked to his wife for a sign of reassurance, but her face was of stone. His father sighed and looked him dead in the eye, “I am sorry, Zayd. I will not send one who has no tongue. It would dishonor us all.”
Zayd recoiled as if stuck. That was not a lie, was it? His face all at once became a canvas of shock and sadness that melted into anger each passing second as he looked to the faces of his siblings who would not return his gaze. He clenched his hands into fists, taking a ragged breath before turning and running out of the hut. He could hear shouting behind him, and his name being called but as he ran, their voices were replaced by the roar of a fading fire and the eventual cold of dark.
A story taking place sometime in the Garden. Zayd and his gal pal Elena get caught stealing fruit from an orchard. Zayd takes the blame for it even though it was Elena who did everything. Seeing how Zayd is about to lose a hand, she confesses and Zayd meets a new punishment.
Years later a now mute Zayd lives at home with his big extended family planting some chickpeas. At the end of the day he arrives home and his brother Saban confronts him with some news. Zayd is no longer going to be wed off which is good news but Saban and his other brother are being sent away to become soldiers.
Zayd doesn't like this and confronts his father who basically says his brothers will have every opportunity to become wealthy and he will not dishonor the family by sending a mute.
Year 29AA, middle winter, outside Caisteal Na Grèine...
“Oh, I cannot wait! I cannot wait! To feel the Statuette once more… How can we be so fortunate?” The young man Macdouh clapped his hands together and had a skip in his gait, kicking up snow with every step. His brown linen robes were characteristic for a monk, and in true monkly fashion, he had given up his family plaid in favour of simple furs. Indeed, nothing less was expected of an acolyte of the House of the Sun. His excitement was met with a somewhat patronising chuckle from his left. The monk turned to see the old, speckled face of Kaer Pier, his balding head covered with a well-sewn and ornately embroidered squirrel fur hat.
“Now, now, young Macdouh - we haven’t even started negotiations with the Reiyar - there is no guarantee that we will be permitted to touch the Statuette.”
Macdouh’s excitement was quickly capped by the elder’s words, and the gait lost its momentum. The monk folded his cold hands instead and attempted to assume a more conservative stance a little behind the druid. “Of course, father - forgive my overreaction.”
“My son,” the druid soothed, “one should never have to apologise for one’s excitement; after all, excitement is but the sun’s will made manifest within our souls. The greatness of Reiya and all of her gifts given to this good world comes to light in the sensations of joy, life and excitement.” He clapped the monk on the shoulder and lifted his tree branch staff to the heavens. “Come now, sing with me! Sing praises to the Daymother! Oh Reiya, oh Reiya~~!”
The druid was quickly joined by Macdouh, as well as the other seven monks and nuns who had come along for the trip. A little behind, two elks trudged through the snow, each carrying a plaid-dressed, copper-helmeted warrior wearing vigilant stares as they surveyed the hills around them. Behind them again, thirty or so foot soldiers followed, all armed with copper spears and small, wooden shields.
“Oof, here they go again,” muttered one of the commanders. The other rolled her eyes.
“Only you would complain about hymns to the Sun, Cumhail. I think they sound rather nice, actually!” Cumhail, théin of the farmstead of Ha-Reyr, gave a long, drawn-out groan.
“Not another word, Cat. I did not ask for this mission; I want my bed; I want my wife; and I want my morning porridge.”
“You had porridge this morning, though…” Cumhail exhaled hot air.
“I want it the way -she- makes it. Campfire porridge cannot even begin to compare!”
“Okay! Okay, relax.” Catryn, théin of the mining village of Ha-Tind, pulled her green and red plaid tighter around her torso. “Didn’t mean anything mean by it…”
“Look, I know you didn’t, but, c’mon, show a man some respect, would you, and don’t make him think of his wife’s porridge while in the field.”
“You’re the one who brought it up, tho--”
“Shush! Not another word.”
Catryn looked to be on her last thread of patience, but a call from ahead in the column caught her attention enough that she let go of the handle of her axe. They kicked their elks gently in the sides and the mounts sped up to top a hill. There, over the top, they could see the red stone castle, standing out from the surrounding like a spot of blood in the whitest snow.
Caisteal Na Grèine.
“We’re here!” announced Kaer Pier to the sound of applause from the monks and nuns. “Now, remember the plan - I will approach first with the acolytes and ask for lodgings. You warriors will await outside.”
“In the cold?” Cumhail replied curtly and sourly. Kaer Pier nodded.
“Most unfortunate, I know, but I will not have armed men and women enter the holy halls of great Solus - of Mother Reiya. Remain out here, and we will make certain to plead for permission so that you, too, may come in. Now, come now, young acolytes! Let us do what we do best!” The druid trudged ahead through the snow, followed by the monks and nuns, some of whom were pulling pulks. The théins looked grimly at one another. Catryn growled at Cumhail and turned to the warriors.
“Well, you heard the man - set up camp and get a fire going. I’m freezing my tits off…”
Meanwhile, the druid and his companions reached the gate of the Sundom, its radiant heat having melted all the snow around it in a several metre radius. The druid motioned for his followers to kneel as he himself approached the gates and knocked. “Great Reiyar - servants of the Sun - we come bearing gifts in honour of your great aid earlier this winter, and pray we may spend the day strengthening our great friendship!”
It did not take long for a reply to muster forth in the form of great golden Leo. peering its head over the walls, body precariously perched upon the stone as if it was finding its footing. A great halo shimmered above it'a head as two curious eyes looked upon them. It lifted its head to sniff at them and then seemingly disinterested, it turned and disappeared over the wall.
“A beast! A beast of the sun!” one of the nuns burst out and squealed, being joined by her comrades. Kaer Pier seemed a little less giddy about the whole situation and gently knocked on the gates again.
“With great humility and respect, we pray we may enter this great castle again in hopes that we can further our bonds of friendship - the Reiyar and the Dûnans!”
The gates did begin to open, revealing winged men and women standing tall on either side of Tevuri and a shorter woman. She wore embossed plate armor of the sun, a faint Halo was above her golden hair. In stark contrast to the Reiyar, her skin was dark… Her arms were folded in front of her and her facial expressions were neutral.
"Dûnans." she stated in a strange accent. "Please, come in, you must be cold." She smiled.
It was the druid’s turn now to stand dumbstruck in awe. The monks and nuns hadn’t risen from their knees, and a few of them were nervously looking around for the signal to stand up. Instead of giving such a signal, the druid himself fell to his knees and laid his staff down on the ground, saying, “Oh… Oh, what fortune - what joy! To think that I, the humble sinner that I am, would be so fortunate to gaze upon the beauty of the Sun’s daughter twice in one lifetime. I greet you from the bottom of my soul and wish you all the blessings of my people, Lucia Helgen!”
The monks and nuns gasped. “A helgen?!”
Lucia remained still. "And I greet you. All of you. Please, rise. Rise and tell us why you've come. No one was expected here until spring at the earliest. Or so I was told."
The druid rose against slowly and the monks and nuns joined in. “Oh, but we couldn’t wait to show our appreciation for the Sun’s aid in reclaiming our home. We’ve brought gifts of ale, food and crafts for all to enjoy, and my acolytes here, a selection of monks and nuns from the House of the Sun, were all eager, so eager, to travel as soon as the weather would allow it. And, as it happened, thanks to the grace of Claroon, no storms have come to keep us at bay this month. I hope we are not intruding.”
"I see. What do you think Cardinal Tevuri?" she asked, turning to the taller Reiyar.
He stroked his chin and said, "I for one always welcome the mixing of culture and exploring the Humani's customs. They are most welcome here. Plus the Oraeliari would do well with something to do."
"Well, that's settled then. Please, come in and be welcomed." Lucia said.
“We cannot express how grateful we are, kind helgen,” praised the druid and took a step forward. “Oh! Before I forget… Atop the hill there, our escort awaits in the cold. They number roughly thirty or so. Would it be too much to ask if they, too, may stay inside the warm castle?”
"Of course." Tevuri said. "We do ask that any weapons are given to us upon entry however. They will be relinquished when you decide to leave."
“Oh, certainly, certainly. Whatever you request be given over, shall be given over. Macdouh, son, would you run up the hill and invite the warriors into the warmth?” The monk bowed and immediately set off on a panting spring through the snow. Kaer Pier smiled and walked over to one of the pulks a nun had dragged with her, from which he untied a thin-necked clay vase with a bark cork. He then stepped back over to Tevuri, bowed his head and offered the vase. “Good Cardinal… Please accept the first of our gifts - the wholly new invention of our people: golden ale.”
Tevuri took the vase with gentle hands, as if he was holding a baby. He brought it up to his puzzled face and asked, "Golden… Ale? What does it do?"
The druid smiled. “It is a drink, friend - a tasty, round-flavoured drink that keeps your belly warm and happy in winter times. In excess, it will soften your soul just enough to reach into the divine plane and speak to the gods. Indeed, I have tried and succeeded - much a similar effect to pipeweed and joyberries.”
Tevuri still looked skeptical but uncorked the jug and took a long whiff of the ale. "It smells good." He said, taking a swing. His face puckered and he passed it to another Reiyar. "It is different, but different is good. Go on and try it Yuleari.” The woman was hesitant in her reaction but sniffed and drank, a small smile creeping onto her face as they passed it around to try.
“Be not afraid to drink it all - we have plenty more! If there is a table somewhere, let us prepare you the feast we have brought with!” At this point, the warriors arrived through the gate behind them, looking blessed to be in the heat of the castle. The two théins dismounted their elks and each offered curtuous bows to both Lucia and Tevuri.
“Gods’ peace be upon you,” Catryn greeted and took her helmet off, blonde hair flowing out of it and down over her cloaked shoulders.
“Yes, gods’ peace,” Cumhail offered just politely. Kaer Pier cast him a sharp glare.
“My companions have naturally accepted that they must give up their arms and will do so immediately,” the druid reminded through a forced, toothed smile.
“Oh, right!” Catryn blurted out and all the soldiers quickly disarmed themselves, neatly arranging a pile by the gate. There were daggers, spears, axes and even some swords - mostly copper, with one or two bronze artifacts scattered in there. There was even a sunforged weapon, which Cumhail seemed terribly reluctant to leave behind. He hung over the pile, holding the long dagger in his hand, grimacing harshly.
Tevuri clasped his hands, "Please, this way. We shall prepare some tables in the dining hall. In the meantime, warm up and mingle as you humani do." Tevuri and Lucia walked off ahead into the keep.
The Dûnans didn’t ignore his suggestion, and many immediately snuggled up against the sunstone wall, many taking off their thickest clothing to not sweat them soaking wet. Kaer Pier and his followers rounded up sacks of oatcakes, pots of cheese, vases of ale and much more from the sleds, following Tevuri with their arms full of gifts. When the food had been moved over across the grand courtyard and into the warm keep, the druid picked up a small wicker chest, beautifully woven and ornately decorated with speckles of chalk, amber and a cross-shaped, golden sun atop its lid. Ceremoniously, he carried it over to the tables and put it down, placing his hand in kind protectiveness over it. “Now… Shall we feast?”
Tevuri nodded, looking around at the many humani and Oraeliari entering the chamber. Each table was large enough for a Reiyar to sit at comfortably but the Humani were a bit short. Lucia had vanished however, most likely through one of the many doors in the vast chamber. As Tevuri sat down at the head of the hall, he looked at the box and asked, "I don't think I ever caught your name?"
The druid smiled and bowed again. “Forgive my insolence - I should’ve opened with that. I am known as Kaer Pier, former archdruid of Ha-Dûna and now trusted advisor and messenger of our sanndatr Boudicca. I also oversee the Daytemple, temple of the Sun.”
“No need to apologize, Kaer Pier. It is nice to meet you.” Tevuri said, taking off his gloves. Around the room the two species mingled and merriment was had, as the Reiyar tried the ale and food. They in turn brought out some of their own items that they had brought from the Luminant. Lumos berries and oran bread, bright and colorful but not as delicious as when they were ripe. “Former archdruid? Sanndatr Boudicca? Has there been a change of leadership in Ha-Dûna?” Tevuri queried.
“So there has,” said the druid and received a horn of foaming ale from a bowing nun. “The Moot declared that the druidic leadership had brought our civilisation nothing but ruin and infamy - we elected that we should have one leader instead, one selected on account of their stellar virtues and inborn charisma: the sanndatr, the True Daughter, or sannsonn if our next one is a man. Boudicca was the only viable candidate in the eyes of the gods and the Moot, without a doubt. Some among us are naturally skeptical of leaving power to a single individual, but the last thing we need now is a crippled council government. A single, righteous leader of such exemplary moral character as Boudicca can make effective, solid decisions and have them be carried out on the day they are made. -That- is what we need; that is a leader.” He sipped his horn with a nod.
Tevuri took a sip of some freshly poured ale, smiling at the nun in thanks. “Change can be many things. Good and bad, it is simply a matter of perspective.” He took another sip. “I can not comment on singular leadership I’m afraid. The Oraeliari people are guided along by we Cardinals. No easy task, but the light of our Oraeliara guides us along. I hope things go well for you and your people.”
“As do I, friend. As do I.” Pier helped himself to an oatcake and scooped onto it some cottage cheese from a nearby bowl. “If I may ask, what has become of your policy on the local, for the lack of a better word, conflicts in the Dûnlands? You helped us reconquer our home, but… What will you do now?”
“Ah, that. We were unsure after reclaiming your home, but now with the Sun Daughter’s arrival, our purpose is clear again. We shall help build a lasting peace here in the Highlands, between all clans, villages, peoples, and races. It is the Sun Mother’s will made manifest.” He said, taking another small sip.
“Then we are of one mind, friend. Peace is the only sensible goal left for these lands - if we can achieve it, then all will be well.” He smiled. “Naturally, Ha-Dûna will wholeheartedly line up behind you as an ally in this matter - whatever you may need, whether it be knowledge of the tribes, connections around the Dûnlands or manpower and resources, you shall get it.”
"Any help is appreciated." Tevuri smiled. "Now, I've noticed that box you brought with you and I must say I'm curious to what might be contained within."
“Oh, this? A small gift for the Cardinals personally - one we hope to exchange for a small favour in return, is all, a favour that to us would mean a great deal.” He opened the lid: The inside of the box was upholstered with wool and bird dow, forming soft, pillowy protection against uneven movement. In the centre of the pillows, there laid a set of four golden rings, intricately adorned with bulbs of transparent glass, with one verdant piece of chiseled malachite in the centre. “Had we known the Sun Daughter was here, we would have naturally brought another one; let us bring it at a later date.”
Tevuri's expression narrowed as he looked the rings over. He said nothing for several moments, as if deep in thought. When he did speak he looked to Pier. "They are beautiful rings, one cannot deny that and I cannot speak for Lucia but before we Cardinals think of accepting this gift, I think it prudent you speak of this request of yours."
“Oh, it’s not as much a request as it is a simple question of permission, my friend.” The druid closed the box and pushed it gently aside for a spell as he took his horn and gave it a sip. “As you no doubt know, these upheavals and our years in exile have taken their toll on our population - many fine, beautiful youths who were meant to grow up and carry our people forward were taken from us much before their time.” He sighed somberly, and the monks, nuns and warriors around the table who had heard him either joined his sigh or teared up. These were comforted by their peers. The druid gave Tevuri a broken stare, the residue of his smile lost completely. “We ask therefore for permission to have our young and newlywed come here on a pilgrimage, just so they can touch the belly of the Sun Mother’s statuette and help our people recover.”
Tevuri looked them over, eyes lingering on the sad faces he saw before him. He then looked out over the room and said, "Such a question cannot be answered by myself alone. Thus I propose that in the morn you gather those of you who speak for your sanndatr and I shall gather mine and we shall discuss this. For now, let us enjoy ourselves in the warmth of Oraeliara and friends."
“I wholeheartedly agree.”
"Good." Tevuri smiled, "Now please, pass the butter?"
A sun of red began to rise, warming the foggy keep. The feast had gone on well into the night and most had fallen asleep in the grand hall, but those that were able to walk found rest in the barracks and dorms of the Reiyar. The day was full of anticipation, stemming from the weight of the question posed. And after a quick breakfast, they were guided to where they needed to go. Up winding stairs, down long corridors until at least they reached another short flight of stairs and looming above, a great door. The Reiyar standing guard pushed on the doors and sounds of straining wood and creaks filled the air. Before them sat another room, not as long or tall as the dining hall, but ornate with windows letting light stream in. Rows of tables and chairs lined the sides of the room, leaving a walkway to the front, where another longer table sat, facing a raised platform that stood half as tall as them. Upon that platform sat another table, and sitting upon great chairs were Tevuri and three other cardinals. They wore simple white robes with golden sashes.
These cardinals sat on either side of two figures. One was Lucia, wearing a sleeveless but simple gown of lavender. Her golden hair was let down, matching the color of the Cardinals wings and her own shimmering tattoo’s. Above those five, shimmered their ever present Halos, marks of Oraelia herself. The sixth figure who sat next to Lucia, was a broad-shouldered woman with no easily determined heritage beyond being fair of skin. Her black hair flowed reminiscent of the Ketrefan south, but her face - locked into a thin frown - had the same sharp lines as Acadian nobility. Beyond all that, she was shaped like a western warrior, with athletic muscles hidden underneath thin black fabrics woven like layers of veils over the skin rather than any thick clothes for weather. Lucia turned to her and said something, placing her hand upon her shoulder.
Behind them all, carved into the very stone of the wall, was a depiction of Oraelia. She held a glowing sun in one hand, and a flower in the other. She looked down, smiling with kindness.
As Kaer Pier and his party approached, Lucia rose with a smile. ”Welcome, welcome. Please sit.” she gestured to the table below before continuing, ”Tevuri has informed me that you wish to ask something of the Caisteal Na Grèine. So please, before the eyes of my Mother ask us what you will.” She then sat back down.
The Dûnans offered their most respectful bows, though young Macdouh stood staring at the mural of Oraelia, descending slowly to his knees. “Oh, Mother Sun,” he whispered, then furrowed his brow somewhat. He leaned over to Kaer Pier and whispered something to him, and then the druid put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it firmly.
“Don’t be disrespectful, my son,” one could barely hear him respond through a forced smile before greatly loudening his voice. “Sun Daughter Lucia, helgen of helgens! Once again, I must express from my heart’s deepest cavities that to see you once again is nothing short of a blessing, and as much as I wish we had come purely for the social exchange, wise Cardinal Tevuri speaks true: We have come also with a request - one that, if granted, would mean the world to our people’s present and future.” He took a breath and bent a knee, his followers doing the same. “We wish, with utmost humility, to be granted permission to open routes of pilgrimage to this holy keep, so that our promising youth may touch the belly of the Sun Mother’s statue and be granted her bountiful fertility.”
"Ah, so the object of your desire is the statue? And you wish to pilgrimage here to be able to touch it." Lucia folded her hands across the table, her expression marked with neutrality. "You are aware that the statue is one of the roots to the problems this land has faced over these years? That my mother blames herself for what she gave you in her naivety? That you could be trusted with it in good faith, so that it could be used responsibly? If the Sun Mother had known the path it would send you on, she would have never given it." Her voice grew softer, "But who could have predicted you would use it so fanatically that your own land could not keep up and then when she gave you everything you needed, it still wasn't enough. After the wars, after the bloodshed." Lucia sighed and her expression grew hard. "I shall ask you this now and answer truthfully. Do you think you are worthy still of such a gift?"
The druid frowned. “Would it not be blasphemous to not employ a gift given by the Sun Mother herself to its greatest extent? Would it not be insolent to willingly restrict ourselves and our people’s growth when the gospel of the Sun forever preaches fertility and proliferation? Our sins are not the Sun Mother’s fault - they are ours, and ours alone. No matter the size of her infinite heart, she cannot take our guilt away from us - not even Naya can. Our growth was but a mere factor of a greater evil within our ranks - one that no god can truly take the blame for; I dare say not even the cruel Sigeran can be blamed for planting that first, wicked seed of greed within Kaer Teagan all those years ago. In regards to sustenance, Sun Mother realised our plight, of course, as wise and great as she is, and our lands can now feed our population tenfold, at least. Our estimates cannot keep up with the true yield, even.” He paused. “We are learning, wise helgen, and it is all we can do for as long as we live. That is all we can say to that.”
The dark-haired woman managed to look even less pleased than before, but shrunk back into passivity as Lucia spoke up. "To learn is to grow. To grow is to live. My mother embodies that, and just as you have learned from your lessons, so as she. For life is such a precious thing, it surrounds us in its beauty but with every breath we take it can be taken away in an instant." She paused. "Too much of a good thing can be abused and turned to cruelty, can it not? I have no doubt your intentions are pure however, you are faithful to her and her teachings. But you must learn that excess so often turns to greed. I think you were wise in coming here asking for pilgrimage, for that is admitting you are willing to change further. Now," she turned to her peers at the table. "Does anyone else wish to speak?" she asked.
Tevuri cleared his throat, giving Lucia a nod. He then looked to the druid and then other followers. "Lucia speaks with wisdom. I knew this day might come, where you would come to ask for it but I do not fault you for that want. It is a powerful gift and should not be denied, to any. I would like to say this, if you wish to make pilgrimage here then we cannot only allow the people of your nation, but any who wish to touch the statue. We wish to remain neutral when we have to and in good standing with all of the people that call these lands home. We cannot show favoritism." He said, finishing his speech.
Cardinal Amara then stood up. "Tevuri speaks after our own hearts, as does Lucia. If you wish to pilgrimage here then we would also ask that any weapons be collected at the gates before entry, any violence committed within will result in immediate expulsion by all members of either accountable parties. And finally, before Oraeliara, we do ask that bad blood, grudges and other pettiness be cast aside in favor of understanding and compassion to your fellow man." She then sat down. The two other Cardinals, one known as Ponifiri and the other unnamed both gave nods in agreement. The dark-haired warrior beside Lucia murmured something under her breath, though it wasn't particularly audible for anyone but those closest to her. In turn, Lucia glanced at the woman but her own expression remained neutral.
The druid lowered his head and smiled. “What joy, what fortune - to have such wise and understanding lieges to stand before. Of course, the gift should, no, must be shared with all in the Dûnlands - that has ever been our intention, for we restricted no one from using it before. Now, however, that it is placed much more centrally, perhaps we can all share in the Sun Mother’s blessing. All of these conditions are most acceptable in our eyes - we are grateful.”
”I am glad we could come to this agreement.” Lucia said. ”I do have a request of my own however, one unrelated to the statue. The Sun Mother has sent myself and my wife to bring about a lasting peace in the Dûnlands and beyond. We were relieved to hear that Ha-Dûna has been reclaimed and that the fighting has settled down, however, Oraeliara scouts have seen some rather disturbing things from the settlement of Scawick? Scawack?” She frowned. ”As such we think it best to gather those who have been wronged in the past and call a grand moot of sorts. A meeting between village heads, town leaders, kings and queens, elders- All across the Dûnlands so that we can talk about peace, settle mistakes from the past and move forward towards a brighter future. I ask you deliver this request to your sanndatr.”
“Such is our intention, as well, make no mistake - but the Scawicks have proven angry and hateful towards our cause of peace. We met them in the field earlier this winter and tried to talk sense to them; they would not listen. We were forced to employ blunt weapons to keep them from murdering us all. We managed to send the majority of them back home with food and supplies, but…” He hung his head in shame, his monks and nuns joining him. The warriors seemed less inclined. “... Alas, when a wolf pack takes too many of your own flock, some must be culled in response.”
The dark-haired woman beside Lucia tapped the table before them a few times, a thoughtful and erratic break from the hitherto calm back-and-forth discussion. Seeming to come out of her thoughts and behavior with a brooding peer at the assembled pilgrims, she spoke up with a broad dialect that seemed equally difficult to place. "Do not fault the wolf for remembering who struck it in the past. Your legacy stretches further back than you may be keen to remember."
Kaer Pier shifted his look to her, his polite smile losing most of its composure until only a frown remained. “Oh, do not misunderstand us - we do not fault them for their behaviour; it is common amongst people like the Scawicks to be… Less in control of their emotions.” He held up his hands. “And we absolutely understand - again, the Dûnans have a history as warmongers, and this we must repent for; however, if they murder our peacemakers when we come to them with a message of harmonious existence, then we cannot simply turn the other cheek, can we?”
”People like the Scawicks…” It was Lucia who frowned now, shaking her head. ”One step forward, another step back…” She massaged the bridge of her nose. ”I must advise, in the future when you come into contact with those who will not listen due to past prejudices, that you ask a neutral party to be a bridge between the two. To ensure such life is not unnecessarily lost.” She rested a hand upon the dark-haired woman’s cheek for a moment, before dropping it out of view. ”We shall go talk to the Scawicks to see what can be done. Now, is there anything else that you wish to ask?” she asked.
The druid bobbed his head softly. “If all aforementioned clauses of the agreement remain, then we have nothing left to ask. We thank you from the bottom of our thousand hearts for your wise and merciful decision to allow not only us, but all peoples of the Dûnlands to access the statuette through pilgrimage.” He extracted the box with the golden sun upon it once more, knelt down again and offered it in the direction of Lucia, Sanya and the Cardinals. “To solidify this agreement, allow us to offer you the gifts intended for the wise administrators of the Sun’s will, as tribute to let you know that, through thick and thin, Ha-Dûna will always be loyal to Caisteal Na Grèine.”
”Not tribute, but rather a deal made.” She turned and nodded at Tevuri, who stood and pulled out from beneath the table a box of his own. He walked down the steps and placed it before Pier.
“We offer this in return, to affirm this agreement.” Tevuri said, opening the chest to reveal an assortment of glowing seeds. Some resembled familiar nuts and acorns, but others were wholly exotic. “Take these seeds from our homeland, grow them in your fields and remember that the light lives in us all.” Tevuri said.
“A gift from the Sun Mother!” celebrated the clergy, and Kaer Pier’s followers quickly scrambled to pick up the chest and carry it to the door. Kaer Pier managed to calm them down a little with some whispering and gesturing, but they couldn’t hide their eagerness in beholding something so sacred. The druid eventually gave up and turned back to the council with a wide smile.
“As their reaction proves, we are infinitely grateful for the gift. Come spring, these will be the first seeds to be sown.” Once more, he bowed. “We cannot wait to bring these wonderful news back to our people, and to all peoples throughout the land. Today is a most fortunate day for the Dûnlands!”
“You and your people are welcome to stay for as long as you like, Kaer Pier.” Tevuri smiled. “Though I think we will understand if you wish to leave to spread the word.”
“Your hospitality is legendary, wise Cardinal, but it is as you say - these news must be brought back post-haste. The celebrations will almost certainly ravage the city all over again, I reckon,” he chuckled.
“Then we wish you a safe journey.” Tevuri said.
”Indeed. Thank you for your time, Kaer Pier. Until next time.” Lucia said, turning to the woman beside her. Something murmured under her breath, and the dark-haired woman nodded towards the druid as well.
A few days had passed since the retinue from Ha-Dûna had departed and Lucia found herself watching the Oraeliara train outside the barracks. Today, like the last few days, she found her eyes falling upon Sanya, who had taken a liking or perhaps a purpose, to avoid boredom. She taught them how to wield the spear with deadly intent. Lucia enjoyed watching her partner do something she enjoyed, it was good to see. Sanya had kept up practice these past decades, switching to unarmed forms when she had buried Sorrowsting. Now she had the chance to meet and train with students who seemed eager enough to learn, and Sanya used the opportunity both to impart her knowledge and perfect her new fighting style. She weaved into different forms and stances, and taught them grapples to dislodge and overwhelm opponents.
But she found herself lingering for too long however, and with reluctance she moved on. Through the warm halls she walked, greeted by the tall winged one with friendly smiles. They did not revere here as much as the Druids did and for that she was thankful. Eventually Lucia found herself back in the chamber of mother’s likeness, where they had made their agreement. It was empty, but only of mortals.
”You did well, Lucia.” Rhiona’s voice came from the statue of her mother as she walked forward. ”The people here are fanatical but perhaps they will learn in time.” ”I hope so. I cannot bear to see them act so cruelly. You saw how they made mention of the Scawicks…”
”Indeed. What was it that Sanya said? Wasn't it, humans never change?”
Lucia frowned and took a seat. "I love Sanya but she has a very pessimistic view on humans and I don't blame her. But some do change for the better and some change for the worse. It's one of the view journies in our life we have to take."
"Mhmm, spoken like your mother. Now, I believe I might have a few things you'll be interested in. For there is always more to give in the name of peace." A large topaz appeared on the table in front of her, giving off an aura of calm. Lucia felt as if she could burst from empathy just being in its presence. "Use that in the name of peace and negotiations. Also I made more Joyfs. Goodluck Lucia!" Rhiona said with haste in her voice before her presence disappeared.
Lucia was so wrapped up in the stone that it took her a few seconds to realize what Rhiona had even said.
”Oh goo- Wait! More Joyfs?" and as if on que, there was loud shouts coming from the courtyard and Lucia grabbed the gem before running off in that direction. Her worry began to fade as shouting gave way to laughter. She turned the final corner and the courtyard came into view. The first thing she saw was a massive head of a Joyf, looking around excitedly.
Then she saw smaller yet still large Joyfs frolicking with the Oraeliara, in fact, several swarmed over Sanya, one was laying on her legs, head at her chest, begging to be petted as the others licked at her face and head. The dark-haired warrior had all but given up any attempt at sparring practice, and was now fully caught up in trying to wrestle free from the fluffy mound of cute animals. An energetic and big joyf licked her over the nose, and caught off-guard, for once, Sanya offered a genuine and peaceful chuckle.
Lucia laughed and watched as the largest one… This Queen Joyf, fall to her side and whimper. In an instant a swarm of Joyfs went to her and several Oraeliari, all providing helpful pats to her thick fur.
Lucia rolled her eyes and looked up to see the two cats circling above. It seemed they were the only ones not a fan of the newcomers.
Druids go to the castle of the Oraeliari in the highlands and propose an agreement to make pilgrimage to the statuette of fertility. After some talk with the Cardinal Council and Lucia (who is there with Sanya) they come to a deal. Pilgrims are welcome if they abide by the rules and have only love in their hearts. The happy druid and his followers depart with this information. Skip a few days and we see Lucia seeing Sanya training some Oraeliari before going to talk to Rhiona. The avatar gives her some stuff and ushers in a golden age of Joyfdom.
Oraelia 5/5
-3MP To claim the last of her Love ports, Joy.
-2DP Blossom Topaz II - This palm sized topaz emits an aura of compassion that warms the hearts of those that are in sight of it, allowing for easier communication and less aggression. Probably a lot of feels too.
-3DP Royal Joyfs. Bigger than their cousins but retaining the same basic purposes, Royal Joyfs are around the size of large ponies when adults. These Joyfs are also very smart for a non sentient animal and go to great lengths to ensure the very best care is given to those that need it by giving joy, and compassion. They are big floofs.
-2MP (Towards Authority) The Queen Joyf. Standing as large as a cobble house and resembling a much fluffier Royal Joyf, the Queen Joyf is exactly that, the queen of Joyfdom. As well as having all the traits of her subjects, compassion, joy and kindness the queen has an aura of authority over Joyfdom and all other Joyfs obey, including other subjects who she imposes herself on. Her voice may reign supreme but this does not make the Queen a tyrant. In fact, she is quiet the opposite. A more benevolent deity that demands of her subjects, scratches. Lots and lots of scratches.
Cardinals of Tranquility Start = 14 -5 (Minor tech shift) Luminant seeds. Plants and trees that glow. Forgot to Add +5 To their last post as well Post 10k+ = 5
= 19
Lucia: 55 Prestige +5 (10k+ post)
Total: 60
Sanya: 39 Prestige +5 (10k+ post) -5 Teach some Oraeliari how to use a spear goodly.
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