Dear Mr Curly, I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all nothings lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that I am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat. Yours sleepily, Vasco Pyjama xxx P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
Janius let go of his breath. Kaleeth's idea was sound and he was grateful for her quick thinking.
Unfortunately, Remus was not impressed. "You were never interested in honourable service," he said. "What changed you?"
"The people I worked with," Janius responded. He could follow up Kaleeth's angle. "They showed me what it was to work for something greater. They showed me that what I did saved lives and helped the Empire." It had a hint of truth, but for the lycan clans rather than just Cyrodiil. "They showed me how I could belong."
"You could have joined the legion and learned the same things."
"Father, I am not here to prove myself to you." Janius grasped his temper back. "I am my own man, with my own family and my own responsibilities now. I don't need to-"
"Then why are you here!?" Remus spoke over him.
Janius was glad he had an answer. He straightened and swelled his chest. "I'm here to help my sister."
Lunise slowed to a stop and looked at Meesei with a small frown. Her pause would have preceded a question, one could suspect. She chose not to ask it.
She looked around the ground floor hall they were walking in and walked in a certain direction. "This way," she said.
Lunise led Meesei through an open archway to a compact indoor amphitheatre. She closed the large entrance doors behind her. Magical lights illuminated the entire interior of chairs and desks. Their steps echoed in the vast empty room. The stage itself was empty but for a large sturdy cabinet that materials could be set up on for presentation. There was more than enough space for Meesei to open her portal.
"We are out of sight here." Lunise said. She charged a spell in her raised arm for a moment, scanning the room for life, and then nodded to Meesei.
Appearance: The holy site of Loralom spire is made up of a complex of bridges, gazebos, and towers made out of a similar self-healing porcelain as the holy site of Cornerstone. The structures are contained within a crater nearly five hundred metres in diameter, flowing with freshwater streams from around Loralom. The architecture is suitably majestic, featuring smooth arches and columns designed to please the hain eye. No matter the weather upon the site, all of the white porcelain remains immaculately clean.
Four main bridges span the crater’s waters from the edge of the crater to the central spires, pointing in all four cardinal directions. They are each around eighteen metres wide. Four more narrow bridges slope in an arch from the edge of the crater to the central complex's lower floors.
The spires count eleven in total. Eight minor spires stand sentinel at the head of each bridge, standing around fifty metres tall and less than ten metres across. They are solid and have no discernible purpose. The two great spires flanking the centre are four hundred metres tall from bottom to top and, though built with solid thick walls and a web of supports, are honeycombed with rooms, stairs, halls, and narrow windows. This space is furnishable and was not long empty before the local Loralom hain established a monastery to Toun within them.
The central spire, named "Akol’s Spear" by the locals, appears to be the source of the holy site’s power. It is shorter than the twin great spires, reaching three hundred and forty metres high, but it is not for living in. Its tapered double-edged shape holds within its mostly-hollow structure a glowing blue stone. The tower's base is open from all sides, held up by a set of columns. Its inside walls are covered completely with perfect red Tounic calligraphy.
All porcelain parts of the holy site make up an unbroken solid lodged into the ground.
Description: When the Marked Hain Edda landed on the shores of Yorum, her quest led her to King Akol the Young, leader of the beleaguered city state, Loralom. Edda was shown the utter despondency of Loralom’s situation; a traumatised populace, attacks from all sides, near daily death by combat, and survival only by the King’s talent at commanding a battlefield. All the same, she challenged King Akol to place his faith in Toun. To spite Edda where she stood, Akol dropped to pray to Toun, declaring his intentions to build his Loralom to greatness with or without him and that he would only help Toun and Edda if he was given a 'spear that shatters the earth' and the resources to secure his homeland. King Akol expected his exorbitant request to be answered with silence. Toun, however, answered his bluff, causing the Loralom Spire complex to burst out from under the ground.
Loralom Spire is a holy site of Toun, costing fourteen might points and yielding seven might points per turn. Its passive effects are fundamentally different from Cornerstone, save for its regenerating ability, renewing lost or broken materials.
The huge blue stone in the central spire glows similarly to the eyes of a droningbird. They provide a similar effect for Toun, allowing him to look through the stone, though it carries a more powerful sight to it. Looking through the spire stone allows Toun to see through arbitrary amounts of solid materials to a radius of two hundred kilometres. Incidentally, Toun can directly view any pilgrims that pray under the stone.
If a worshipper of Toun sits underneath the stone for long enough in quiet contemplation, the Tounic symbols on the inside of the spire influence their minds. They gain artificial memories of three things: A glimpse of themselves in a better position, their greatest weakness, and a flash of a peaceful and safe society, all devoid of context. Hain monks that reside in the spires believe this to be a glimpse into the future. In reality, it is merely the symbols telling a mortal mind to forge the memories around a particular prefabricated template, using their existing memories to personalise them.
The symbols themselves are near-incomprehensible to mortals when taken in as a whole. However, the symbols may be deciphered individually, allowing the Loralom monks to delve into Tounic calligraphy and its powers on their own.
Flaw: There is no obvious flaw to the spires, except that its motives are not in plain sight. Toun could have mimicked its effects with a different creation at far less cost. The significance as a holy site is clear enough, but given that far more power was poured into it than Cornerstone for much milder effects on those within, an inquisitive divine might wonder to what other secret functions the rest of the power went.
As an apology for a post where the description and pacing were awful, I'll work on the required sheets today.
Here is the first, elaborating hain body language a bit more. This will be in the hain body language hider on Toun's character thread.
Physical intimacy between hain are similar to humans in many ways. Holding hands, hugs, holding arms around shoulders, etc. all signify a closeness, whether familial, deep friendship, or romance in varying degrees. Though the hands alter the execution.
Hain beaks are too impractical for kissing like humans do. Instead of this, hain mutually bring a hand each to the mouth of the other. This comes from the hain instinct to hand-feed their children. Holding the fingers shallowly in the mouth is most common, and biting harder or thrashing occurs with high passion.
The significance of hand-feeding extends to deliberately laying hands on the body of another hain. If done for no other reason, it is a slightly greater sign of affection than usual. Laying a hand on a personal area, such as the face, holds the significance of a kiss on the cheek.
As with any body language, context also plays a role. Laying hands on another as part of labour, fighting, emergencies, or other situations generally does not carry affection, though the regular room for misinterpretation is ever-present.
A simpler exception to human shows of affection is bringing their heads close together. Again, hain beaks make touching foreheads together uncomfortable. The equivalent in hain body language is to rest the sides of the head together with the beak over the shoulder of the partner. Just like with humans it tends to be reserved for deep affection. From this position, hain have the closest view of their partner's eyes.
This is about the limit I will probably provide as canon for anyone trying to write hain fanfics for some goodness-forsaken reason.
Christ, the hain wiki page is going to be heeeiiiiiiuuuuuuuge.
The bath before the meeting left Edda's shell with a beautiful gloss sheen. She suspected that the servants had been trying to scrub away her markings to somehow normalise her. Edda would not have felt any less hain if they hadn't. She was handled like a mute child for lack of any chatter they could exchange, after all. She could only stare back at them blankly when they asked questions.
At least the awkward maintenance was short-lived. Edda let the women clean and dress her in short order. Korom the advisor and a handful of guards beckoned her out as soon as she was ready. He lead her through the palace.
The escort gave Edda time to refocus. She didn't have too much attention upon her now. Without the worries of her companions to placate, questions emerged in her reflection. This invitation to dinner had to have some motive, yet Tokgos and the other translators were not following her. How would they talk?
More questions arose from why they were walking unerringly through the empty great hall of the palace. The long tables there spoke of potentially merry feasting but her escort did not regard them.
The huge double doors to the bright courtyard were pulled open by more servants ahead of them. The light that flooded in faded to show a group readying to leave. Notably, a cart full of grey-cloaked figures alongside King Akol's wife from the balcony, as well as few chariots. Another cart was ready to go, holding bolts of canvas and shapes of wood.
Edda could connect the clues. They were not dining in the palace at all.
No matter. If she and the king were to sit around a cookfire in the wilderness, Edda could still beseech his help. The king was an exceptional warrior and commander. If he could inspire hain, know the gods, and lead, he would be the one Edda was told to look for. Toun's chosen hain. All she had to do was show him her markings in full and point them out in order. She did not have to know the tongue-scraping local language.
Unfortunately, King Akol was nowhere in immediate sight.
Edda tried to ground herself. Her hand found a void around her waist. Linen. The smooth white robe she had been dressed in was fresh enough to be new. And yet, the pleasant feel on her shell was outweighed by its lightness. Without the reassuring weight of a tool -- her obsidian rigging knife -- any tool at all -- she felt a chill. Her hand curled around it, gathering a wad of fabric. The habits of an ex-chipper died hard.
The grind of wood on stone turned Edda's head. A towering giant shaggy hound passed, happily panting breath that smelled of dead meat. It drew a chariot carrying a much cleaner version of the boar-jousting hero Edda had witnessed on the battlefield.
"Tachhem, Korom, Edda," king Akol greeted, nodding upwards to each of them. Korom received a gesture to move to a cart behind the chariot. "Ie anmesechnt eymer ven for met nir. Ir nemen dem voyn met ie materch."
The cart full of hain-shaped people in billowy grey cloaks showed not a chip of their shells. They were cringed and quiet. Korom bowed and glided in his red regalia to join them in the cart.
The king regarded Edda with a different look. It was unlike how the townsfolk gawked. He was looking straight at her eyes, not at her marks. One of his eyes was slightly narrower than the other, trying to solve the puzzle of her. He shuffled to the further side of his chariot. "Tumen, ikh visn ir nemt nich marich." He extended a hand to the empty spot, pointed to Edda, and gestured to the spot again. "Mahefn mer."
"Okay." Edda stepped up onto the unsteady platform beside the king. It was easy enough to follow the visual instructions. As she clutched both hands tightly to the walls of the vehicle, her robe fell free of the wad she had been clutching -- she hadn't even noticed that she was still holding it until then.
"Sheiem!" The young king commanded. The dog set off on a walk, jerking the chariot forwards. The guards let the way on foot through the gate.
The king looked ahead. Edda looked to the sides.
The palace gate painted them all dark grey in its shade. A soft breeze made Edda's robe cling at her upper body as they passed through. When colour returned, the town was not what Edda had anticipated.
There were citizens walking to and fro, talking, carrying goods, pulling carts or driving livestock. It was alive, but it had a stillness to it. All the talking was hushed, all the movement was either stilted or fast. Edda expected to see normality with the threat battle gone.
"Why are they still all so scared?" She asked.
The king threw a glance to her, nothing more.
Their procession did not roll far before getting noticed. Edda received the stares again. Everyone's heads turned. It was a unanimous attention. The stillness was joined by a fade to silence, save for the padding of hound paws and wheels crushing gravel. A goat bleated.
Some of the citizens ran down the street away from them. One even dropped the sack he was carrying to do so.
Then there was a voice. Edda didn't make out the words or the direction. It was joined by another. Edda saw the moving beak of the speaker to her right. A well-dressed but sad woman. It was so quiet.
The procession kept moving.
One spoke louder. Edda couldn't make it out. The word signalled almost all of the villagers watching them to say that word. It was no a chant, it was unordered. It was a plea. Edda could hear it now. One word was spoken over and over again.
"Ram-m!""Ramy-""-myem!""R-em!""-amyem!"
Edda's head flitted. More hain were emerging and gathering to watch them pass. Most were just speaking the word, some were speaking it loudly.
Edda spotted one man fall to his ankles at the side of the road. He was hyperventilating, staring up at her and the king. He opened his beak wide and screamed. "Ramyem! Ramyem! RAMYEM!"
He screamed the word, over and again. Tears were streaming from his eyes. Edda's eyes lingered on him. The coherence of the syllables were eventually lost to the emotion he poured out. He clutched his hands to his beak and sobbed the word out.
Edda looked behind as the procession moved on, leaving the screaming one.
The crowd had enlarged ahead. The word converged into a chant.
"Ramyem!""Ramyem!""Ramyem!""Ramyem!"
"What are they saying?" Edda asked over the din. Her hand was starting to hurt holding onto the chariot.
The king extended a palm to gently push Edda's chin straight again. "Chhener, anmesechnt eymer." The king answered dismissively.
"Ramyem!""Ramyem!""Ramyem!"
The gathering crowd still parted for them.
"Ramyem!""Ramyem!""Ramyem!"
Edda neither knew whether the crowd meant to commit violence nor whether it would continue to follow them. Keeping calm was getting harder as the prospect of the latter loomed. The edge of the town was just ahead.
They reached the edge just as the king breathed in and raised an arm. "Durchh di machn fun di shul!" His booming voice reduced the unending chant to murmurs. Edda's ears relaxed. "Losn aunms chteln auncher helim su ru!" His voice echoed through the streets.
The crowd, not out of fear, but instead cemented by the authority Akol used, looked to one another and shuffled out of the way. A clear path was left for the procession. They continued.
Edda could hear soft weeping. Some hain were palming the sides of their beaks, desperately remaining quiet. Edda wondered how long they had been crying for.
The crowd did not follow them on the road out of the city.
The farmers in the fields were not inspired to chant, much less weep. They stared just as the townsfolk did. Edda concentrated on keeping her footing on the bumpy chariot.
"I wish you could tell me where we are going, king Akol," she said. The last while of silent travel was too uncomfortable to concede to.
"Ikh litchn ir gechem redn andcher dam nrach, Edda." The king mimicked her tone, surveying the landscape.
Edda exhaled from her nose and leant forward while the beasthound climbed them up a small rise. They were headed further inland.
They crested the hill to more flat land and some sparse trees. The King pointed forward. "Az imer dor mstma anfers velchr ksha ir hat."
Edda craned her head to line a set of eyes up with Akol's arm. She spotted a glint of colour reflecting off a copse of trees down the hill. Another breeze passed by. All the foliage around the grove flickered as their leaves and needles moved. The colourful trees did not.
They approached closer. "By the gods," Edda breathed. The grove was made of clear glass.
She had never seen one for herself. They were sacred places to the urtelem. She knew that much. They were supposedly full of ghosts. Edda had listened to many stories warning of waking up the sleeping dead in a glass grove. Urtelem never let anyone alive inside them for that reason back home.
Edda glanced around. The procession was not stopping. She hoped king Akol didn't think she could convince urtelem to let them into their groves. Unless this was a place to dispose of her. No, Toun would not send her here if they were simply going to kill her. This was not the end.
The flitter of an ink fly distracted Edda. Her eye caught another movement. A gaunt, blind human woman, waving and smiling with at least four arms at once. Edda would have recognised the figure anywhere. She waved back to Caress, looking blank, if surprised.
King Akol spotted the sculptor as well. His eyes lit up. He waved and beckoned her to approach.
While the procession still moved, Caress easily caught up with her long human stride. "Tachhem, mchol Akol. Greetings, Edda." Her calm voice speaking her language was enough to make Edda forgive her hideous countenance.
Edda leant her upper body over the chariot and spoke quickly. "Caress, it warms my heart to hear your voice. We have been locked away for a day and a night. Toun guides my path to destiny, though I cannot see it as he does. Do you know where we are going?"
Caress faced ahead. A number of arms hanging from her waist clasped together respectfully. "Hmm, it feels like you are heading to matriarch Worm-Hair's herd. They are maintaining the lens grove this season. She is a soft soul. Every great city in this land has a lens grove nearby, she tells me. Away from the fighting. The urtelem are not fond of the slick of hain blood on the soil, so they maintain them as neutral grounds."
Caress exuded calm in her smooth voice. "I would not worry. The lens grove is not a place to feel sorrow or pain. You are safe."
Edda looked back at the hain in grey cloaks in the cart.
Caress continued. "This place feels so wounded. Scarred and smouldering. Worm-Hair says I am the only non-urtelem sculptor in these parts since the blinding purge. They snatched away so much. And left such textured pain. Wherever I may use my hands, I will soothe. Worm-Hair was very thankful for someone defter than her to make her a new shawl." She laughed through her nose.
"Mekhachyf." King Akol spoke around Edda. "Chen ir mite nlayn tsu chelfn zich un Edda farchet?"
"Iyem, mchol Akol," Caress answered. "The good king has invited me to interpret the urtelem, Edda. Are you comfortable with me remaining with you?"
For the first time since landing, Edda lifted a palm upwards. "It would be a keen relief to me. Thank you."
"Omstel!" The king raised a fist. His chariot hound stopped and sat on its haunches. The rest of the procession stopped behind them. The hound lifted a hind leg to itch at its ear.
They were a stone throw away from the edge of the grove. Around them were half-buried boulders. Many were marked with carved patterns or little crystal clusters. One was draped with a large, soggy cloth.
The boulders swelled up from the ground. For a moment, they looked like they were crumbling, falling apart. When the stone stuck in places to itself, limbs could be noticed. Each boulder stood on thick, stubby legs. Arms crumbled off in a similar fashion. Then eyes and mouths flexed, almost yawning from a satisfying sleep. Urtelem were always so simple on their surface behaviour.
The urtelem draped in the cloth thumped up to the front. Her old pyrite eyes spotted Caress and began to sign.
Caress lifted three hands to her lips and giggled. She translated for King Akol, and then for Edda. "Worm-Hair has missed speaking to the kings of Loralom. She is welcoming him by comparing him to a renewing worm through the soil. A kinder simile than it feels to the raw ear, I assure."
King Akol spoke imperiously in return.
"What comes next should be felt with the eyes, Edda. I do not think you need to hear it in speech." Caress kept smiling at Worm-Hair. She stepped ahead to focus fully on signing the King's words.
Edda threw Caress an unsure look. "Very well."
King Akol clapped his hands together above his head and stepped off his chariot. Clasping his hands behind his back, he approached the matriarch with two guards in tow. They did not brandish weapons. They instead held a wooden chest between them.
The chest was set down and Akol spoke with added gestures to Worm-Hair. Worm-Hair squatted to look at the hain king with a considered frown. Whatever their conversation was, Edda wished she could hear it. Nothing much was as obvious as Caress implied.
After some kind of agreement, King Akol lifted the lid of the chest.
The contents brought a warm look to Worm-Hair's face. She reached with great care to pick up the crate and poured the contents into her hand. Stony cracking joined a white cascade of cloudy rocks. Edda recognised them as rough quartz. Worm-Hair nodded to Akol.
Akol immediately spun on his heel and shouted another order. The entire entourage moved into action.
"Caress, I would like to know what is going on."
"You are about to find out. There is no worry to touch here."
Edda's other eyes noticed that Korom the advisor and Akol's wife were leading the grey-cloaked figures. Now that they were moving, Edda saw that they held bundles of cloth in their sleeve-covered arms.
The march of grey figures was slower than the frantic setup of tables and canvas shelters. There was a sombreness to the march at face value, though the purpose of the pace became clear. Some of the figures had a distinct limp. More than a few were near-crippled under their cloaks. The last one was being carried by their shoulders between two guards. Only the bottom of the grey cloak dragged along the ground, empty.
Edda followed their shuffle past the chariot. Korom and the king's wife looked as if they were leading a loved one to a grave. Akol looked at them with a patient sternness, waiting.
The grey cloaks stopped. The forwardmost cloaked one limped forward, past Korom and the king's wife. It stopped when the king laid a hand on his shoulder.
The grey-cloaked hain reached across his cloth bundle and pulled it open. He was holding a fine stone mace.
King Akol looked at the mace. He raised his other hand and wrapped his fingers around the weapon. His eyes went up to the hood. He spoke a few quiet words.
Taking his hand from the grey cloak's shoulder, he took their arm and pulled its huge sleeve from the hand. It was a white hain hand, like any other. The king took the wrist and brought the fingers to his mouth. He bit down, gently. He then held his hand into the great grey hood. The grey-cloak leant its head forward onto the hand. It looked like he was biting the king's fingers in return.
Such a thing was what parents did to wish their children goodnight, or to paramours to express passion. Edda wished she could ask Caress whether the king had any further spouses beyond the wife guiding the greys.
They held the position for a few seconds before their hands fell from the mouths of the other. Akol half-turned and placed the mace reverently in the chest that had previously contained the quartz. The grey cloak half-turned in the opposite direction and limped towards the lens grove. Pulling at his arms, he cast off the cloak, letting it crumple to the ground.
Edda silently gasped at the limping one's body.
The entire rear of the hain man's chest was shattered away, leaving a hole of rotting flesh. His leg was bent forward rather than back. This was a ghost that Edda was warned about, taking his place in the grove.
The next grey-cloak stepped forward in a similar fashion. The same ritual repeated; giving the mace, he and the king lovingly holding fingers in their mouths, and then separating to cast off the cloak. This one's beak was broken off at the front, leaving a terrifying face that Edda was glad to see turned away from her.
One by one, each of the grey-cloaks received their farewell. Edda surmised them as soldiers. All of the solemn quiet, all of the loving farewells, the entire ritual was piecing itself together.
Edda felt a bulge on the room of her mouth. She blinked frantically to stay composed. These were the lucky ones. They had the chance to say goodbye.
Limbs were broken and missing between them. Shells were shattered and flesh was rotting away, some full of maggots already. Mace after mace was given.
The last one, carried by two guards, clutched his bundle in one arm. What he presented to the king was a spear broken in two. The guards set him down when the time came to cast off his cloak. He dragged himself along the ground towards the lens grove, out of his grey clothing. His pelvic shell emerged with two soil-encrusted stumps where his legs should have been.
Edda's mind flashed back to the point in the battle where the boars were released. They tore at hain and shattered their spears.
She bowed her head. Her hand reflexively rose to meet the side of her beak. These were all soldiers that she had seen die from the balcony.
An urtelem stepped up to the legless hain and picked him up by the middle. Like a cat, the hain was hoisted up to the urtelem's shoulder, arms hanging over its stony back. The hain closed its eyes as the urtelem strode into the grove.
He looked so peaceful. So unlike the people in the town. His worries were cast off with his cloak.
King Akol, remaining perfectly stoic throughout, placed the broken spear into the chest and closed it. His guards took the chest away.
"Edda, are you okay?" Caress asked.
Edda sniffed deeply and let out an uneven breath. "Yes." She said confidently. "Yes, I am fine."
"The king asked the matriarch if you are undead. She does not sense that in you."
"Is that why I was taken here?" Edda straightened her head and quickly rubbed at her eyes.
"I feel the flesh of cooked swine on the air. I cannot fathom you would be slapped with exclusion. That reason feels the nicer one to be taken along, don't you think?"
Edda turned her head. The table and chairs, sheltered by canvas above, was now adorned with roasts and fruits. King Akol waited at the head of the table alongside his wife and advisor. They stared at Edda expectantly. One chair stood alone.
She hoped they wouldn't mind her taking a moment to calm down. How they were standing so numb to it could only have come from the ritual's frequency.
"Welcome to Loralom, Edda." Caress stood behind Korom the advisor, interpreting words from the king and anyone else speaking. Akol continued, placing a hand on his chest. "I am Akol, son of Nievon, King of Loralom. This is Korom the Speaker and Sira the Stonefriend. They are my paramours and advisors."
Edda nodded to each. It was nice to finally know the woman's name.
"Sorry you had to arrive in time for a battle. Those were a band of stray Salrans from the north. Starving and desperate to raid grain. We would have repelled them without incident, but we did not know until too late that they had scrounged together enough copper ore to purchase a mercenary rovaick. Those pigs took many men. We were able to slay them, though. My soldiers are disciplined. They were not."
Again, more questions were preemptively answered. The miracle of Loralom's victory in spite of their numbers was swayed further in their favour after all.
On the other hand, Sira shrank when Akol described the battle as he did.
Akol carved at a piece of grit-powdered pork belly and brought it to his mouth with an obsidian knife. "I heard you came from over the white ocean, yes?" He asked through his mouthful, pointing the knife at Edda.
Edda nodded stiffly.
"Right. No wonder you speak gibberish." The king swallowed. "So, you found my humble kingdom." He dropped the knife on the table and leant back, hands over his middle. "Why are you here?"
Edda took a breath. If she had to repeat the scene on the beach, so be it. "I was sent here, to Yorum, by Toun. The perfect one spoke to me..."
"Stop. I heard that. I heard that before," Akol said, waving one arm. "I'll rephrase. Why have I taken you out here to the lens grove?"
The king put her off balance. Edda blinked and twitched her head. "I...Caress told me that you asked whether I was undead."
Akol exhaled. "Fine, that's fair, that is one of the reasons. There are many mad undead sailors that wash up on the shores of Yorum on driftwood. Granted, they don't come from as far away as you claim, nor to they speak your language...nor to they have a body not covered in barnacles and eaten from their limbs-but I digress." He held a hand forward. "That word. The one the townspeople were chanting. Do you know it?"
Edda thought back to the screaming man. "Ramyem." She shook her head. "I do not know what it means."
"It means 'angel of mercy,'" the king said. He weaved his fingers together. "We can speak freely here. This kingdom is depressed by its suffering. It has been an uphill slaughter to get this far after the blinding purge. Those markings have an effect on people. You could do some good for us, just with morale." He waved in permission. "This is your chance to ask questions about us because you are going to be staying."
Edda stayed stiff. This king was not what she was expecting. He was brash and frank, unlike the reverent individuals that were addressing her before. Still, his offer was not one he would pass up.
She cleared her throat. "King Akol. The guard that spoke to me on the beach. He said this land was littered with broken shells. What can you tell me about Yorum as a whole?"
"That is...a complicated subject." Akol pitched his head to one side. "Korom, you had better recite the history to Edda."
"Of course, my king." Korom lowered his wine vessel. He was not as bodily in his speech. He stayed still in his seat, talking in Edda's direction. "Loralom was once part of a league of city-states, the North Yorumite pact. We held steady trade treaties and were powerful enough as a unified force to dissuade any invasions from the south. The south was a disparate collection of tribes and states, but they were too interested in consolidating their own resources to commit to occupying more land. Several years ago, however, stars fell from the sky in a blinding purge and scorched the earth. Thousands were killed, including many royal families. The pact collapsed in the span of a week. Loralom was fortunate in that much of its military strength survived the purge, and one heir lived." Korom looked to Akol, who had his eyes down, eating. "Akol will not say it to anyone himself, but he is a military genius. He brought together what was left of Loralom's soldiers and held the line against roaming warlords, desperate bandits, and hungry beasts. Many of the deaths of the purge are still in living memory, but we have been growing steady harvests again, and Loralom is mostly rebuilt. It is because of him that we live."
Akol spoke at his food. "We have to march every other day and the families have to worry every time," he said. Resentment laced his voice. "There are always deaths. We rebuild but everything else is still hot ashes. Crazed and desperate hain will launch themselves at our granaries every day. And the people are on the brink of what they can suffer. So much death. We cannot help everyone."
Edda cut in. "Why do you not expand?"
Akol's eyes drew up. He took a slow breath in. "Can't hold it. We don't have enough men."
This was her chance. Edda held the sides of her seat. "King Akol, you heard my mission, so you know that I am looking for a chosen hain. A hain that has an eye for battle, an eye for leadership, an eye for the gods, and an eye for inspiration." She built confidence. "You can read it upon my shell. You have held together your kingdom in a land of implemented savagery and suffering. Toun has asked me to find the one who will forge Yorum into a sanctuary, and I believe you are the only one who can do it."
Akol let out one laugh. "I think you're leaping ahead, Edda. I am lost in the leadership of citizenry. Sira is the one that helps me there. For inspiration, my men follow me because I am skilled, not because I give them rousing speeches. And finally..." He shrugged. "...I cannot name more gods than I can count on one hand, let alone know their natures. They do not favour me."
"Do not doubt so quickly," Edda's eyes were wide. "Such things that are missing? You will find them along the way. Toun said to seek. To build." She swung her arm to gesture around her. "It is his will. Miracles will come to help you, even if you doubt it!"
A little white bird perched on the chariot a distance away. Its eyes were glowing blue. None noticed.
Sira spoke in a hushed tone to Akol. The king put a hand up to Caress to not translate the conversation between them. They leant in close to one another, Sira's hand on Akol's. Edda could not understand the words, but Sira was putting conflict into Akol's face. Sira was insisting something. They whispered and murmured for another half a minute.
Edda leant back on her seat. This had to work.
Akol looked at Korom. They exchanged a nod. Akol addressed Edda once more. His elbows rested on the arms of his chair and his fingers touched at the tips.
"Look, Edda, your commitment is admirable, but this land has not seen the kindness of gods in many years. A king here has to work with what he perceives." Akol's eyes went down and up. "The markings on your shell are death's bait. They fill me hope. Nothing more. I cannot take my army on a campaign to conquer the entire realm without at least some true omen that a god is on our side. Toun forsook the hain. If my doubt is wrong here, I have lost little. If I go out without anything else, I will lose all I seek to protect. This kingdom made the same mistake before."
"Pray to him yourself," Edda demanded.
Akol lowered his beak. "...Pray?"
"I was at the end of my options when I prayed to Toun. I had lost everything and he gave me purpose." Edda placed both her hands on the table. "You complain that your fight will be never-ending if you are to remain as just a small city-state in this land. There are people in Yorum who remember the North Yorumite Pact, as you called it. I saw them in the town, those scared people! They will join you! They will join you because Toun himself gave a blessing to build Yorum into the greatest nation on Galbar! I saw Xerxes rise myself. I saw what godly influence can do. I know that today will be the beginning of Yorum's great walls if you ask him right now."
Akol shot up, slamming his hands down on the table. "I will pray to prove you wrong, Edda! Nothing more. Prayer has betrayed the hopes of too many Lorals for me to allow you to bluster on."
Korom and Sira flitted their beaks in surprise.
Edda breathed in to retort. Akol jabbed a finger towards her. "Sit! Down! Remain."
Akol slid his hands from the table and walked away. He stopped, containing his fury in narrow eyes and a low beak. He fell to his ankles.
"Toun, the clay devil himself," he began aloud speaking to the air, seething. "I have seen the consequences of your abandonment to their greatest degrees in my lifetime. My mother and father prayed to all of the gods in the rubble of Loralom. None saved their lives. None picked up the pieces but us. I will do anything for my hain. I will forge my kingdom to greatness with or without you. I will make my hain the best on Galbar, in sight of all gods. I shall not carve an empire in your name unless you throw me a spear that can shatter the earth. Bring me all I need to ensure that I can build my kingdom, and I shall build yours in return." Akol shouted angrily at the distance. "This I swear upon my oaths as King of Loralom, in the spirit of Loral! For your co-signature and acceptance, my unswerving oath is such!"
The little bird on the chariot turned its bright eyes to jet black. It fluttered away on a small breeze. Dust slid along the ground.
"I thought not," Akol muttered. He brought one foot up to the ground. There was a tremor.
Loralom was never this close to earthquakes. Akol stopped, kneeling.
Another small quake hit the ground. The lens trees tinkled together nearby. Another tremor escalated into a quake that rattled the implements on the dinner table. It became more intense.
A plume of brown soil exploded in a pillar in the distance. Between them and Loralom, directly in King Akol's sight, there rose three gleaming white points. The great blasting sound reached them, echoing off into the distance. The tremors settled with it.
...Unveiling a spear that shattered the earth.
My apologies if this post seems rushed at points. I tried to get it our before the end of the turn and I've been tired and stressed out these past few days from university.
Anyway, we're back in Yorum again. Edda has been washed and dressed for her dinner date with the king. Muttonhawk continues to overstuff the worldbuilding to a fault.
Edda wonders why dinner isn't set up in the main hall, and she's led out to the courtyard. A convoy of sorts is being put together and the king's there. Looks like they're heading out.
Edda gets to ride on King Akol's hound chariot. He's leading a cart full of hain in fully-covering grey cloaks.
They head out of the gate. Instead of the townsfolk just gawking, they start to gather and say a word in northern Yorumglot (that Edda still can't understand). The crowd gets bigger and the word gets shouted and chanted. They don't seem threatening, but it's kinda weird. One guy even breaks down on the street, screaming the word.
Once they reach the edge of town, the king tells the townsfolk to all to shut up and stay put or something and they proceed onwards.
They come to a lens grove. The many-armed sculptor Caress reunites with Edda. She's very welcome to the party currently because there's been a dearth of sculptors around to translate the urtelem.
The king speaks with the matriarch of the herd tending the lens grove, Worm-Hair. She's been sheltering Caress in return for sculptor stuff, like knitting. She accepts a gift of some quartz from King Akol and then the grey-cloaked hain start a ritual with the king.
One by one, the grey-cloaked hain give up a weapon to the king, he thanks them for their service with a finger bite, and then they cast off their cloaks to go to the grove. It turns out that the hain grey-cloaks were soldiers that were turned undead on the battlefield. This ritual is the on-Galbar thanks for their martyrdom and their path to peace.
Important note: Mutual finger-biting is a sign of deep affection. It is the hain equivalent of kissing. I heard a theory that kissing developed from mouth-feeding in humans. Hain tend to hand-feed rather than mouth-feed because of their beaks, so fingers-to-mouths made logical sense to me. I'll add it to the hain sheet later.
The last hain undead to do the ritual fucks up Edda's emotions. This is because she realised they were casualties of the battle she had just witnessed. The last soldier had his legs torn off by a blutterboar, so his release is a bit graphic.
Anyway, they set up dinner nearby, so they sit down for the meal. We actually get intelligible dialogue from the named Loralom characters. King Akol is joined by his two paramours and advisors. Korom is a historical and economic advisor, while Sira (the lady that was on the balcony) is more of a social and household advisor.
Akol proves to be blunt and brash. He tells Edda that he took her out here to get perspective on how cruddy life in Yorum is right now and to speak with her in private. He also took the chance to ask the urts whether she was undead. She is not.
Being an amiable chap, Akol tells Edda to ask any questions she might have. She asks what the history of Yorum is. Akol defers to Korom.
Korom relays the abridged version: There used to be an alliance of city-states in the north, of which Loralom was a member. These hain city-states were prosperous and powerful enough to discourage any invasion from local threats. That all changed when the Fire Nation realta attacked. They royally sodomised Yorum with their plasma enimas to the point where most royal families were killed and armies crippled. Anarchy reigned. Loralom survived because Akol survived, hence his young coronation. And because Akol is a prodigal general who lead the remaining Loralom warriors to many victories, they're now recovering.
Akol is pretty cynical, however, because he doesn't see the countryside outside of Loralom's borders ever sorting itself out. They would be fighting hungry barbarians for the rest of his days at least.
Edda asks why he hasn't tried to take them over.
Akol says he doesn't have the resources.
Edda uses this opportunity to pitch her quest about finding Toun's chosen and building Yorum into something cool. She believes the king is that chosen hain, seeing as he's a pretty powerful general.
Akol rebutted her argument by mentioning that he isn't really the other stuff that the chosen hain was meant to be, as Edda had put it.
After a back-and-forth on the matter, Akol demands some kind of proof that Toun is on their side, seeing as he isn't too happy with how the gods have treated Loralom so far.
Edda challenges him to pray.
This triggers Akol a bit because no amount of prayer ever helped him or his family. He goes and prays to Toun in angry spite.
Akol's prayer unknowingly asserts that he's going to make things better either way, which is a good way to get into Toun's good graces. Akol declares to Toun that he'll build Toun's empire if he is given the resources he needs to help Loralom, also if he can get a spear that shatters earth.
Getting more than he bargained for, a set of white towers breaks out of the earth in front of Akol, one looking like the head of a spear. This is Toun's next holy site, the Loralom spire.
This will have repercussions across Loralom and the surrounding area.
Extra Note: I'll try to avoid the northern Yorumglot gobbledygook from now on for two reasons: 1. If I use it for too long, I might have to make it into a proper conlang so it doesn't sound too stupid, and I don't want to put that kind of effort in. 2. I feel like people will eventually catch on that I'm just punching sentences into an English to Yiddish google translate, replacing all the lip-heavy syllables like b and p, and then randomly replacing other bits of words to disguise it.
I really wanted to get an important post in before the end of the turn, but damn it, no one has posted since the Aitiraq/Toun collab. I may have to be a rude, uncouth, and downright savage person and double post in IC :C
Janius wished he could show his gratitude to Kaleeth for answering his father believably. The thought of moving houses hadn't crossed his mind.
Only Remus' eyes moved to listen to Kaleeth. As she spoke, his eyebrows tensed just subtly enough to imply his annoyance. "Janius, answer on your behalf."
"It's true, father. And Kaleeth can speak on my behalf for these matters. She is my wife, and-"
"-And we. Are. Your family, Janius." Remus cut Janius off.
Janius clenched his teeth and bowed his head forward. He breathed in to retort, likely with anger, and hesitated. He glanced left and right to Julan, Kaleeth, and Aurana. He couldn't afford to make a mess of things so soon.
Remus broke the silence he created once more. "You are in the Empire's employ now?"
"Yes?" Janius answered.
"And you were forbidden from contacting us from the beginning?"
"That's right."
Remus' chest fell and rose. "How could you agree to such a thing and turn your back on us?"
Once again, Janius had to swallow his anger. However, he had to make a choice whether to tell the real truth that he felt no belonging in his own house with his own parents -- a truth Kaleeth was abundantly aware of from Janius' recounting -- or to come up with another excuse. His hesitation left a gap.
"He hated it here," Aurana's voice piped up breathlessly. Janius jerked his head to her, surprised. She was staring Remus down with an angered frown. Her knees had a faint quiver to them. "He didn't want to come back because you two were horrible to him!" She continued. "He told me just before. You never listened when he had problems. You never understood why he got into trouble. Just like you don't listen to me!"
"Aurana, please." Janius lifted a hand. "It wasn't like that. I know what I told you, but you must understand, it has been a long time."
Remus gave Aurana the same look as Kaleeth, except this time an angered flush was creeping up his neck. Aeramina still had her hand to her mouth, but she was wide eyed and shocked silent.
Lunise slowed her walking pace as Meesei spoke. She was in no hurry as she was before, even if her naturally wide stride made it appear as such. They were still in the halls of Pircalmo's building, so only rare passers-by would hear them, but Lunise had resumed her resting scowl.
"I did do what I intended with the meeting. It might be the last time I see him for a long time, depending on the future." Lunise gave Meesei a sideways look down. "Your patience is appreciated."
Stopping for a moment, Lunise bowed slightly to look out a window at the sun. "This place you wish to visit, will we be there long?" She looked at Meesei. "Do you require to go there the same way we arrived here?"
Sorry to not give you much to react to with Janius' parents. I'm trying to space it out rather than writing the whole conversation between Janius and Remus. It'll probably go on between only them for a while, barring any speaking out of turn.
[center][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPjJCVylFBo[/youtube][/center]
[quote=Michael Leunig. The Curly Pyjama Letters.]
Dear Mr Curly,
I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all [u]nothings[/u] lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that [u]I[/u] am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.
Yours sleepily,
Vasco Pyjama
xxx
P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
[/quote]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><iframe src="//youtube.com/embed/HPjJCVylFBo?theme=dark" frameborder="0" width="496" height="279" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><br><br><blockquote class="bb-quote">Dear Mr Curly,<br>I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all <span class="bb-u">nothings</span> lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that <span class="bb-u">I</span> am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.<br>Yours sleepily,<br>	Vasco Pyjama<br>	xxx<br>P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!<footer>Michael Leunig. The Curly Pyjama Letters.</footer></blockquote></div>
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