To become a God among men

[Allatu Dagon]

We took into deep consideration what happened that night. A discovery of a female infant in a meadow empty, calm and peaceful. She was marked in a way that was undeniable to her origin. The child had been born of the gods. Had she been disowned, cursed and thrown into the mortal world to fend for herself? A damned godly soul locked up in a mortal body? Our questions were rampant that night.

Nothing had occurred within the last fifty or so years to suggest that the gods were upset with their mortal lesser beings. We pray, provide the proper means of thanks and honor to our gods for allowing our tiny existences to be undisturbed for the most part. The silence had been taken as a kind of peace and acceptance to the ways that man had adopted within the years. It was rare we heard the voices of the gods. Some had claimed that we had been abandoned and left to our own demise. That the gods had chosen elsewhere and no longer wanted to even bother with our petty existence. After all—what significance are we to them? Philosophers have thrown about the idea that we are simply amusement. Toys with minds of their own.

Digression, accept the apology of a priest's old mind. It tends to wander when thinking about the discovery of the daughter of the gods. The unanswered questions we had the night we found her remain as such. With out an answer and only more questions.

All that we, the lowly priests of Abri temple, have come to know and understand is that an event will occur. Perhaps several events. The knowledge of our star daughter is quite well concealed. However-heh—yes information never stays secret forever. Or maybe we are simply terrible at keeping it silenced. Many years back, roughly ten to fifteen, some of the public began showing up on the temple's steps begging for these magical abilities of the daughter of the gods. Claiming they heard word of her discovery. We had to dismiss this as rumor and speculation so often that it became a second answer to new faces at the temple. They were all greedy, selfish people that came in search of the gods daughter. Many were true and suffering from ailments or illnesses. Though what do you tell people about a gods daughter when she's been imprisoned by her own blood? That they have denied their own child the power and responsibility they had been born into. How is she to help the helpless . . . when she herself is just as helpless to the needy?

The star daughter's own locked away abilities is quite the burden on our shoulders as priests and priestesses. Abri temple has been tasked with trying to unscramble the tattooed seal that runs over every inch of her body. The gods were elegant, even in their means of locking power away. It is a series of marks, archs, images that wrap themselves around the flesh of the gods daughter. To an untrained eye, not that our own is, it appears as if it is simply a beautiful work of art decorating her skin as to her status. For all we may know, that might be all it truly is. Speculation of course denies it is simply symbolism of the gods mark and claim on this star child. The markings of the gods remains a mystery to this day.

In the current our king has come to our attention and decision that he has the right to this daughter of the gods. That he, the king of the lands, claims her as his sons bride. We have been striving to remove these bonds we are sure she has. Just as before, just as when we found her and just as it is now. No progress has been made. Researchers, philosophers, wise men, godly men like us have all convened and made attempt after attempt at deciphering those elegant black marks on her body. We are only human men with human ideas and assumptions. Of course all that we have to suggest is ideas, theories and speculation . . . and many, many more questions. Unfortunately the idea that we might find a means of translation in ancient text's, pictures, grave stones and the like . . . . dead end after dead end. It is as if it is a completely different . . means of . . . communication. Yes signs and gliffs and designs look like similar present day words and meanings. Line that up with what they translate in today's language and what do you have? Gibberish! Utter useless gibberish!

“Dasha, my lady, won't you join us out in the waiting room while your escort arrives?” A priestess asked of their star daughter.

Hesitant goldenrod eyes parted to look at the woman who stood at the door open to her chamber. Sitting in this room would be no longer once they arrived. She had spent her lifetime, up until that point of course, in this very chamber . . . . an odd childhood and adolescence but . . . a thankful one at that. Thick, dark lashes rose and fell slowly as thoughts tumbled through her muggy mind. Everything was processing so slowly and with greater care now. “I don't wish to leave.” Dasha said quietly.

The look on the priestesses face was sad and understanding. “I know my lady. It's torn at the hearts of us all here . . . we don't wish for your departure either. Father Manuel spoke the words we have all been feeling in our hearts when he said that nothing good can come of letting you from our protection. And . . and that, that you're a daughter to us all. Not some gods daughter.”

She forced a respectful smile onto her lips, trying to show that the gentle, loving words the woman spoke were truly dear and wonderful to hear. She felt loved by them as if she were birthed by a human woman. Not tossed from the stars and heavens of the gods. “Thank you.” Dasha said as she stood up reluctant to take the necessary steps out of her chamber, down the hall and into the waiting room.

Once her charge had made it to the door the priestess looked at Dasha with a slightly amused look in her eyes. “Do us all a favor, give that stuffy prince a hard time for taking our precious one from us will you?”

Dasha smiled in earnest. “I will try, for you all. The least that I can do for my family.”

The priestess escorted the daughter of the gods down the hall and into the waiting room where they received guests. She was seated on a large cushion and her robes straightened out for the sake of appearance. They had raised her modest and withdrawn, respective and kind. Though to the men that were to be at her side, she needed a more authoritative stance upon the first meeting if she were to convey some kind of air of control and power . . . that she had yet to come to terms with.

Dasha sat in robes that sprawled elegantly away from her feminine figure which was drowned in the several layers of white, baby blue and yellow fabric she was adorned in. Her long pale blond hair had been fixed simplistic with little effort, a few braids drawn back and fashioned with a small gold clasp. Her goldenrod eyes drawn forward and settled on the two large doors that were to produce their guests and her escort. She would do her best to bring a good, if not greater, name to the temple. As well as present an image to the human men that she was more than just a figure with a name and abilities that were still locked away. Such a dangerous detail she had been instructed to never allow it to leave her tongue, not until they had discovered a solution . . or she had unraveled the mystery herself.

[KillamriX88]

A seedy little bar. No place for an elite warrior to be living in. The women there were substandard even by his heavily eroded standards. Even getting drunk didn't make most of them attractive. The racketeer bar owner charged him to advertise his services. Seriously, who did that? Who made someone pay to nail a piece of paper into the termite infested wood of a place barely worth calling a building. Didn't even give him a discount for room and board.

Well finally it had all payed off. After this job he could move to a place that only smelled funny and didn't look ready to fall down. Falling to the rock bottom made climbing one's way back up... unpleasant. But hey, he had standards. Standards based on questionable logic, but standards none-the-less.

Some old man in a robe showed up, looking for skilled hands. None were more skilled than him. When he was sober. Which was something that was infuriatingly common since he was too broke to buy ale these days. He wasn't usually a heavy drinker, but if he didn't drink he would go insane from the mind numbing boredom he was subject to.

When he'd heard he could get paid more than even his already high price for this job, he hadn't even asked what he would be doing. He didn't care. They could have hired him to burn down an orphanage and he'd have done it. What? He'd have given them fair warning first. He wasn't a monster.

And so there he was... at a... temple? He was almost afraid to go in lest he burst into flames. He probably wasn't on the best of terms with the gods. Some of the people milling about were already giving his lightweight black armor funny looks. The fanged-skull engraving on his right shoulder-pad might have had something to do with it.

Well, he'd rather get funny looks than wear the horrible, clanking, half-ton full plate some of the other men in the escort party were wearing. Maneuverability was a better defense in his mind. Of course black armor still got hot in the sun. Sweat kept dripping from the bangs of his short black hair into his icy-blue eyes.

"Bloody hell." He wiped his brow.

"Watch your language, you. This is a holy place," one of the other warriors warned.

"I have a name. Rurik." He was just looking for any point to argue honestly. The warrior just shook his head.

Finally they entered the grand building. He was curious now, what was he here to guard? He should have asked more questions. He was under the impression it was supposed to be an escort, but that was all he knew. Escort what? Escort who?

That was when he saw the young woman in the room.

Escort her. Please for the love of the gods tell him he was going to escort her. That, he could most certainly live with if only for the eye candy.

He sighed. It had been a while...

[Allatu Dagon]

Dasha almost gave a slight startled jump when the doors parted and presented the most disturbing image she had laid eyes on. Mind she had never seen anything related to war, such as the man at the door. She felt a hand rest on her thigh and its squeeze with comfort. Taking in a small breath she drew in the support and parted her lips. “Welcome.” Dasha said with as much authority she could work up. In comparison she felt absolutely pitiful and insignificant to the man decorated with more intimidation than herself. How was she suppose to have authority and air among them? The temple had to simply be jesting.

“Please, have a seat my lord . . . ah there you are.” One of the priests said as he assisted the man to where he would sit only a few feet away from the daughter of the gods. “We left you rather in the dark of the details because it's our hope not much will spread during your journey. You see she's . . . this is . . her ladyship Dasha. She is, she is . . .” Why could he not simply throw the truth out there?

“I am the daughter of the gods.” Dasha said quietly.

“Yes, she is . . I apologize it is . . unspoken around here much . . just for the sake of her safety. The wrong ears can spin many many stories. She is to wed the prince . . and many will seek her for their own. We require your promise to escort and protect her ladyship.”

Lord? Who? Where? Wait, him? Sir was about the nicest thing anyone said to him. He really didn't want to think about the worst. It was depressing. Now what was he here for?
Oh, they were talking about the girl. She really was the person he'd be escorting? Perfe-
"Wait what did you say she was?" His eyes went wide. He hadn't been paying attention... to much besides where Dasha's dress happened to fall around her curves. And... a prince? What prince? Certainly not that prince. Or even worse THAT prince.

"A prince you say? Well, why not just stab her in the throat and get it over with! That would be the merciful thing to do, I mean damn-" He paused when just about every eye in the place squinted harshly at him. Touchy bunch... "Err, I mean. Sounds good?" Well, at least he was getting paid.
Dasha's eyes grew so large, batting several times before they focused on the man sitting not too far from her. He was going to be escorting her? She was going to be around him? Her brows wilted in defeat, confusion and concern. “Father . . .” Dasha began meekly.

The Father of the temple licked his lips, slid his hand out into the air to silence the daughter and folded his arms back behind his back. “You're opinion and personal thoughts of his highness are your own son.” He said firstly. “But her life doesn't belong to you. It is being given to you to protect. It's more dear than any life in this room, even yours.” He said curtly. “No one knows for certain, but, we all understand that she's the the turning point in this civilization. Whatever happens to her will forever shape and determine how the lives of man will continue forth. In the wrong hands she may wilt and be a life lost to us, but, the gods know better than to allow her to perish under a petty human's mind and desire.

The priest took a breath and stared at the young man in his dark armor for a moment before he continued. “I see you've heard little, that is good. We seem to have done a good job. I wouldn't doubt you've heard the rumors and little stories about a child of the gods falling to the mortal world. The stories are true, mostly. She has fallen from the heavens and she is the daughter of the gods. I figure there is little else to say, unless you have questions I've neglected to answer.” The Father said with a slightly raised brow.

[KillamriX88]

Her life was more important than his? Said who? So far, only the man in front of him, and Rurik was not inclined to agree. As far as he was concerned, his own life was the most important. Though a lot of people probably thought the same about themselves. Rurik just felt they happened to be wrong. If they disagreed, who cared, if they disagreed violently... he'd just stab them.

"Yes yes, very good secret keeping. Why not keep them a while longer, I've no questions." Actaully he was just too impatient to go through the trouble of asking. He would find out later if he had to. Or maybe he wouldn't. As long as he got payed, what did it really matter?

All he had to do was escort this woman for a while, stare at her ass, and hope he was struck by lightning for doing so. Easy job, easy money. Maybe too easy. Oh sure lots of money and an important person were involved, but if they were so good with their secrets, how much danger was really involved? Perhaps this was beneath him after all. Oh well, he wasn't one to go back on his word without a better reason than boredom.

And she did have nice hips...

"So... uhh... we gonna get going? This army is stuffy."

[Allatu Dagon]

The Father priest was quite displeased at how quickly the man waved away his words. He was not in it for anything but his payment. Father Manuel's brow fell unamused by the young man's comment to retain the secrets further. There was hardly an point in trying to share them with him, even if they would probably see to their daughter having better care and a smoother trip. Father Manuel glanced back at his troubled star daughter and gave a meek smile, trying to calm her and usher away the strain he saw creeping up in her eyes. The priest heaved a sigh. He was the most impatient young man he had had to deal with in years.

Dasha stood at the motion of the Father and walked over to his side. She received a caring and loving glance from the human man and then a glare from the Father to her escort. “Follow him to the carriage Dasha. I will accompany you.” He reassured her as she began walking behind the man clad in black.

The star daughter was given a fresh taste of concern when she saw all of the rough and angry looking men. Some of them stood, some leaned lazily against whatever was near by while others sat on horses staring bored and not very entertained as their leader walked with her and the Father in tow.

Father Manuel wrapped his arms around the small woman in front of him. He pulled her tightly into his embrace. “Be strong Dasha. We all knew something was going to take you from us at some point. But, it is for the better we hope. Don't forget us when you're lavishing as a queen.” He said with a soft laugh.

Dasha shook her head against him. “I'll never forget Father, I swear I won't. If it was my choice I would reside here with you, the sisters and brothers. You have always been my home and family.” She murmured contented to be in the old man's embrace. “You've all made me feel like I am the temples only child.” She said with a small held back sniffle. Dasha wished not to cry. She had to be stronger in front of the angry human males. The star daughter knew she had to look weak to them.

The Father forced himself to remove his star daughter from his arms and load her into the carriage. He gave her one last loving smile and patted her hand as she leaned out of the carriage's window. “We love you daughter. Whenever your wedding is to be, I promise we will attend.” He said with a warm look.

The daughter of the gods nodded and remained focused on the priest as her escort said nothing and simply loaded himself up and motioned for the men to move out. She was now in the hands of strangers that her Father trusted, or, hoped he trusted. Dasha could not completely pick out if the priest fully trusted them or had much of a choice.

[KillamriX88]

It seemed they were finally ready to head out again. Finally might have been a strong word, they hadn't been there that long. In fact it had been rather speedy all things considered. Well... Rurik really didn't like holy places, they made his skin crawl. Too many people staring at him... and disapproving of him... and thinking about how he was bound for a special place down below where the angels don't go. He rolled his eyes, yeah, he was glad to be going.

"All right, farewells done? Good, let's go. Move it people!" He waved his hands and urged their little convoy on.

"Are you going to be this unpleasant the whole trip?" the disapproving knight from earlier grumbled.

"Are you going to be this condescending the whole trip?" Rurik raised an eyebrow. "Shut it and move to the back if you don't like it." The knight shook his head, but took Rurik's advice. Either way, Rurik hadn't been planning on talking much, so he doubted he'd hear from that man again any time soon.

After a while, Rurik got bored enough to start mentally complaining. Seriously. She was a daughter of the gods. Could she even die? Who would even want to attack her? Well, obviously he'd been hired for a reason, or was it just customary to guard important people? This was boring.

A knife clanked against and bounced off of his shoulder plate.

"Wha-?" he muttered, and moments later arrows shot out of the surrounded hills and bushes and struck down a few of the other escorts. So much for being boring. His hand shot up and caught a second knife before it could hit him. "Who keeps throwing these!?" he growled, and then caught sight of the man who'd thrown the knives at him. "Right then..." he wound the knife up and threw it back, having it embed deeply into his skull. One down. Meanwhile, at least five of the guards had already been killed. Including him, there were about 8 guards left, and who knew how many attackers who hadn't yet jumped out to attack...