The year is roughly 9500 BG.
Dorje (DOR-jeh) sat cross legged in silence, meditating in a solitary field of lupine and lilacs, all different shades of purples and deep blues, atop one of the many mountains in the vicinity of the Eastern Air Temple.
Lupines:
Lilacs:
Eastern Air Temple:
Appearing as though it were a mighty pillar erected from the earth, smooth cliff sides wrapped almost entirely around the circumference, it was nigh impossible for anyone who wasn't an airbender to scale. The top of which a small plateau lie, embellished by this secret garden the young monk visited often. He intentionally kept its existence to himself, figuring if the others came upon it then okay, but so long as he found isolation he would do nothing to compromise that.
The monk inhaled the sweet fragrance deeply, exhaling slowly, and emptied his mind, focusing solely on his breaths and their relationship with the scent of his personal sanctuary. Then he was standing in another field far removed from his meditating body. The world he saw when he opened his eyes didn't resemble his home in any way. The sky was a myriad of different colors, the field was alive and he could feel it breathing in unison with himself. There were mushrooms the size of trees, and the spores that they spewed seemed to change the very fabric of this reality. Some coalesced into intelligent beings while some painted the sky as a brush running through paint might. Clouds created impossible shapes, and waterfalls seemed to pour from nowhere creating whirlpools that distorted the surrounding features as they spun. Dorje had been to the spirit world many times before but this time was different, because this time he had a purpose. Dorje sought insight regarding an ominous dream that had befallen him recently, and then again, and again, and every night since its first appearance over a week prior. Every night his dream became more fractured and confusing and at this point he just wanted it to stop.
Spirit World:
Tree of Time:
The world zoomed past him until the Tree of Time stood before him. Dorje had never been to this part of the spirit world before, as he had never come with any specific goal in mind until now, but his people visited the location often. Whether it was to seek wisdom or clarity of reflection, the Tree of Time always seemed to offer the monks who meditated near it whatever it was they sought. The sight of its prisoner sent chills through his incorporeal body, but he was wise enough to block himself from its influence. Dorje began meditating beside the tree hoping to find some clarity in regards to his dreams, but what the tree showed him only confused him that much more. He saw people he didn't recognize, people who were not air nomads or monks, and an older version of himself with hair. He couldn't see his airbending tattoos beyond the dot on his forehead. There was an enormous storm, lightning arcing throughout until the lightning formed the image of the flowers that surrounded his physical form. Those flowers became clearer until they filled the entirety of the tree's inside. The last images the tree gave him were of the flowers in vases, then nothing. Dorje could not accept that this was all there was, especially since the tree told him nothing of his dreams, but there were other options.
Original Airbending tattoos:
Koh the Face Stealer:
Koh's domain:
He focused on a name well known to his people, a name that was used to scare young air nomads from ever getting too curious about the spirit world; a name that reminded them the spirits were benevolent and demanded respect. The spirit world brought him to yet another tree, however, this tree was far more foreboding. It protruded from the depths of a bog, twisted and skeletal, and grew larger as the world brought it closer and closer to the monk until Dorje stood at its base, an opening inviting him forward with a sinister glee. Show no emotion, he reminded himself, and after steadying himself and debating whether the reward was worth the risk, the monk began his descent.
"Thorns puncture deep..." A low voice whispered from the darkness. "They puncture pure and true..." It laughed menacingly. Dorje closed his eyes and repeated the mantra in his head over and over, show no emotion. "I'm here about the dreams I've been having." He explained. "I can't sleep. I need to know what it means."
"Ah yes," the voice a little louder now, "the passing of the last brings forth the next...curious timing, but why you?" The final word was loud, clearly from right behind the monk, but reverberated from all around. Just as Dorje was about to turn to face him, Koh emerged from above, hanging upside down, the limbs protruding from its round bulbous head tracing the outline of the monk's face. "I don't understand." Dorje said calmly. "Please Koh, what do you mean by that?" The spirit twisted and coiled around the young monk until there was no escape for the young man. Dorje felt his heart begin to beat faster, but had prepared for this and quickly calmed himself. He knew Koh would not harm him if he played by the spirit's rules. "Your selfish desire will pass, liberation will be dealt; a new era will begin and the thorns will puncture deep." Koh nearly giggled as he spoke for he could feel the rise bubbling within Dorje.
"I don't understand." Dorje said as calmly as he could, but with every word he spoke Koh's face changed and got so close to his that their noses nearly touched. "You believe it to be your own." Koh said. "Does this not contradict who you are monk?" As he asked the question Koh's eyes were rolling and his new face was tilted upward at an angle. Realization flashed across Dorje's face, then confusion, both in the span of a heartbeat before the mantra he'd been repeating over and over in his head took control of his features. "The flowers? What does anything have to do with them?"
Koh's face showed disappointment and he knew if he were to steal this monk's face he'd have to give the man some space, and so he crawled along the tunnel's walls, back into the darkness. "Nothing. And everything. You are intricately connected to them, and yet they are not for you alone. Just as the Avatar is intricately connected to the spirit world, it doesn't belong to them alone...clearly." Koh said with annoyance and sighed. "The dreams will stop when the truth is liberated." Dorje wasn't going to get anything else from the spirit he knew and began backing away. He bowed, "thank you spirit." As the monk approached the opening in the tree he could hear Koh's voice in the distance. "A new era will begin...."
Dorje's eyes opened and the scent of the flowers dominated his senses. The beautiful lush garden had been his own little secret hideaway, and he had purposefully not plucked any, ever, in order to keep it that way. He sighed heavily knowing what must be done. Perhaps, by keeping this field a secret he was inadvertently preventing a medicine from saving lives, and in this sense, he was being selfish. With a heavy heart the young monk gathered some of each flower that had been thriving in the harsh conditions of their altitude. As he glided toward the temple he noticed something far below on the ground and decided to investigate before presenting his findings to the elders.
In the valley at the base of the mountain ranges that stretched as far as the eye can see was a new settlement. It wasn't very large by any stretch of the imagination, but this was the first Dorje had noticed. He landed quite gracefully, and as eyes focused on the monk that had just fallen in the middle of their town, people began gawking at him, and in turn looking toward the heavens. Dorje couldn't understand the language they spoke, but the people greeted him with reverence. Some even fell to their knees and began praying...the monk knew better than to let any of it go to his head and so he began helping people back to their feet, smiling, and passing out the flowers until there were none left. He promised them that he'd return, wished them good fortune and took to the skies once more. After returning to his secret field and gathering more of the flowers, Darje returned to the Eastern Air Temple and made his way to the chamber of the elders. Each in turn praised him for his discovery, accepted the plants for research, and sent him on his way. No dreams assaulted him that night.
-----------
A few more days passed free of the haunting dreams. He had made it a point to return to the settlement but hadn't had the chance thus far. He had been put to work and was too exhausted by sundown. One evening, as he lied down to rest, he was summoned to the chamber of the elders. When he arrived he bowed and awaited to be addressed. "Monk Dorje," the central elder said, "your discovery is appreciated. Your contribution to our understanding of the world we inhabit is no small feat." Another elder spoke up then. "The flower you brought us..." He held up the lilac. "Its pleasant fragrance is potent and has assisted in guiding several students into the spirit world, and we have been able to produce a residue from its petals that can be used in various forms of artistry." Yet another elder's turn to speak. "The colors are quite wonderful and vivid, and have already been put to use in the temple." The elders gently tapped the palms of their left hands with the fingers of their right hands, a formal gesture of praise and appreciation. The central elder spoke up once more. "The other flower..." They held up the lupine. An ominous silence seemed to stretch on a little bit too long for Dorje's liking. "It is very toxic. It is good you...."
The words faded from Dorje's ears. He could see their mouths moving, but he could no longer hear their words. All he heard was the sound of his heart beating in his ears, which were growing hot. Sweat began running down his face and the young monk fell to his knees. "What have I done....?" He asked himself, interrupting the elders. Tears welled up in his eyes and he clenched them shut hoping this was all a terrible dream.
"What is the problem young Dorje?" An elder asked. Dorje stared blankly at the cultural leaders of his people, full of wisdom and compassion, and it broke his heart to even look them in the eyes. He turned and sprinted from the chamber. The wind rushed past him as he used it to hasten his movements until he reached his room where the few belongings of his were. Ignoring the looks and questions of everyone he knew and cared about, he just ran. One of his friends tried to speak to him as he moved through the temple's innards, "Dorje! Did you hear?" They called. "Raava's Avatar pa...." But Dorje was gone.
On his way to the settlement, Dorje plucked some more of the flowers from his not-so-secret garden, a way to communicate with the settlers below. When he arrived there was nobody left. A dozen or so graves were all that was left of the settlement. They had buried their loved ones and fled. He dropped to his knees, the flowers dropped to the ground beside him, and he wept in his tear soaked hands. "I'm so sorry!" He choked on his words. "I didn't know..." The sound of grunts and screams broke him from his self-pity, and when he turned he saw a large man charging him with a giant club. Dorje rolled out of the way as the club smashed into the ground where he had just been kneeling, and gasped with wide eyes at the enraged man. "I'm so, so sorry..." The monk lifted his hands in surrender knowing he deserved whatever this man had in store for him...but as the club came swinging toward his face, Dorje felt the rush of air from the weapon and without thinking, used the momentum of the man's swing and pulled that rush of air aside. The adrenaline-induced move sent the man crashing head first into the base of the mountain, breaking every bone in the man's face. His body crumbled to the ground, blood leaking from every orifice: eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, as well as the open wounds Dorje had accidentally made in his sudden change of heart. The monk just looked on in horror....
-----------
8 years later...
"Another drink!" The man demanded of his patron. "I haven't lost yet..." He curled his fingers a few times until the cup slid across the bar to him. He wore a burgundy robe beneath a brown leather suit, tight fitting, light weight and breathable, black metallic buckles holding the straps tight, black fingerless gloves and wore nothing but dried earth on his feet. Long dirty-blonde, almost brown, dreadlocks fell past his shoulders, and an unkempt grizzled beard protruded from his face. His almond shaped chestnut colored eyes glared at the barkeep who put his hands up in defeat. "C'mon man..." He said. "You're bleeding me dry..." A large burly man, well dressed and groomed, stepped out from a back room then. "He is the mighty Hurricane!" The man boomed, drawing screams and whistles of praise and glory from everyone in the tavern. "As long as he fights and business is good," the man said lower now as he stared at the barkeep, "he can drink as much as he wants! Is that a problem?" The barkeep shook his head, and scurried away to see to other customers.
The owner laughed and patted the Hurricane on the shoulder. "One of these days," he said, "you're gonna have to enlighten me..." Dorje emptied his glass in a single swig and slammed it onto the countertop between him and the owner, Jekaar. "Who's next?"
Dorje (DOR-jeh) sat cross legged in silence, meditating in a solitary field of lupine and lilacs, all different shades of purples and deep blues, atop one of the many mountains in the vicinity of the Eastern Air Temple.
Lupines:
Lilacs:
Eastern Air Temple:
Appearing as though it were a mighty pillar erected from the earth, smooth cliff sides wrapped almost entirely around the circumference, it was nigh impossible for anyone who wasn't an airbender to scale. The top of which a small plateau lie, embellished by this secret garden the young monk visited often. He intentionally kept its existence to himself, figuring if the others came upon it then okay, but so long as he found isolation he would do nothing to compromise that.
The monk inhaled the sweet fragrance deeply, exhaling slowly, and emptied his mind, focusing solely on his breaths and their relationship with the scent of his personal sanctuary. Then he was standing in another field far removed from his meditating body. The world he saw when he opened his eyes didn't resemble his home in any way. The sky was a myriad of different colors, the field was alive and he could feel it breathing in unison with himself. There were mushrooms the size of trees, and the spores that they spewed seemed to change the very fabric of this reality. Some coalesced into intelligent beings while some painted the sky as a brush running through paint might. Clouds created impossible shapes, and waterfalls seemed to pour from nowhere creating whirlpools that distorted the surrounding features as they spun. Dorje had been to the spirit world many times before but this time was different, because this time he had a purpose. Dorje sought insight regarding an ominous dream that had befallen him recently, and then again, and again, and every night since its first appearance over a week prior. Every night his dream became more fractured and confusing and at this point he just wanted it to stop.
Spirit World:
Tree of Time:
The world zoomed past him until the Tree of Time stood before him. Dorje had never been to this part of the spirit world before, as he had never come with any specific goal in mind until now, but his people visited the location often. Whether it was to seek wisdom or clarity of reflection, the Tree of Time always seemed to offer the monks who meditated near it whatever it was they sought. The sight of its prisoner sent chills through his incorporeal body, but he was wise enough to block himself from its influence. Dorje began meditating beside the tree hoping to find some clarity in regards to his dreams, but what the tree showed him only confused him that much more. He saw people he didn't recognize, people who were not air nomads or monks, and an older version of himself with hair. He couldn't see his airbending tattoos beyond the dot on his forehead. There was an enormous storm, lightning arcing throughout until the lightning formed the image of the flowers that surrounded his physical form. Those flowers became clearer until they filled the entirety of the tree's inside. The last images the tree gave him were of the flowers in vases, then nothing. Dorje could not accept that this was all there was, especially since the tree told him nothing of his dreams, but there were other options.
Original Airbending tattoos:
Koh the Face Stealer:
Koh's domain:
He focused on a name well known to his people, a name that was used to scare young air nomads from ever getting too curious about the spirit world; a name that reminded them the spirits were benevolent and demanded respect. The spirit world brought him to yet another tree, however, this tree was far more foreboding. It protruded from the depths of a bog, twisted and skeletal, and grew larger as the world brought it closer and closer to the monk until Dorje stood at its base, an opening inviting him forward with a sinister glee. Show no emotion, he reminded himself, and after steadying himself and debating whether the reward was worth the risk, the monk began his descent.
"Thorns puncture deep..." A low voice whispered from the darkness. "They puncture pure and true..." It laughed menacingly. Dorje closed his eyes and repeated the mantra in his head over and over, show no emotion. "I'm here about the dreams I've been having." He explained. "I can't sleep. I need to know what it means."
"Ah yes," the voice a little louder now, "the passing of the last brings forth the next...curious timing, but why you?" The final word was loud, clearly from right behind the monk, but reverberated from all around. Just as Dorje was about to turn to face him, Koh emerged from above, hanging upside down, the limbs protruding from its round bulbous head tracing the outline of the monk's face. "I don't understand." Dorje said calmly. "Please Koh, what do you mean by that?" The spirit twisted and coiled around the young monk until there was no escape for the young man. Dorje felt his heart begin to beat faster, but had prepared for this and quickly calmed himself. He knew Koh would not harm him if he played by the spirit's rules. "Your selfish desire will pass, liberation will be dealt; a new era will begin and the thorns will puncture deep." Koh nearly giggled as he spoke for he could feel the rise bubbling within Dorje.
"I don't understand." Dorje said as calmly as he could, but with every word he spoke Koh's face changed and got so close to his that their noses nearly touched. "You believe it to be your own." Koh said. "Does this not contradict who you are monk?" As he asked the question Koh's eyes were rolling and his new face was tilted upward at an angle. Realization flashed across Dorje's face, then confusion, both in the span of a heartbeat before the mantra he'd been repeating over and over in his head took control of his features. "The flowers? What does anything have to do with them?"
Koh's face showed disappointment and he knew if he were to steal this monk's face he'd have to give the man some space, and so he crawled along the tunnel's walls, back into the darkness. "Nothing. And everything. You are intricately connected to them, and yet they are not for you alone. Just as the Avatar is intricately connected to the spirit world, it doesn't belong to them alone...clearly." Koh said with annoyance and sighed. "The dreams will stop when the truth is liberated." Dorje wasn't going to get anything else from the spirit he knew and began backing away. He bowed, "thank you spirit." As the monk approached the opening in the tree he could hear Koh's voice in the distance. "A new era will begin...."
Dorje's eyes opened and the scent of the flowers dominated his senses. The beautiful lush garden had been his own little secret hideaway, and he had purposefully not plucked any, ever, in order to keep it that way. He sighed heavily knowing what must be done. Perhaps, by keeping this field a secret he was inadvertently preventing a medicine from saving lives, and in this sense, he was being selfish. With a heavy heart the young monk gathered some of each flower that had been thriving in the harsh conditions of their altitude. As he glided toward the temple he noticed something far below on the ground and decided to investigate before presenting his findings to the elders.
In the valley at the base of the mountain ranges that stretched as far as the eye can see was a new settlement. It wasn't very large by any stretch of the imagination, but this was the first Dorje had noticed. He landed quite gracefully, and as eyes focused on the monk that had just fallen in the middle of their town, people began gawking at him, and in turn looking toward the heavens. Dorje couldn't understand the language they spoke, but the people greeted him with reverence. Some even fell to their knees and began praying...the monk knew better than to let any of it go to his head and so he began helping people back to their feet, smiling, and passing out the flowers until there were none left. He promised them that he'd return, wished them good fortune and took to the skies once more. After returning to his secret field and gathering more of the flowers, Darje returned to the Eastern Air Temple and made his way to the chamber of the elders. Each in turn praised him for his discovery, accepted the plants for research, and sent him on his way. No dreams assaulted him that night.
-----------
A few more days passed free of the haunting dreams. He had made it a point to return to the settlement but hadn't had the chance thus far. He had been put to work and was too exhausted by sundown. One evening, as he lied down to rest, he was summoned to the chamber of the elders. When he arrived he bowed and awaited to be addressed. "Monk Dorje," the central elder said, "your discovery is appreciated. Your contribution to our understanding of the world we inhabit is no small feat." Another elder spoke up then. "The flower you brought us..." He held up the lilac. "Its pleasant fragrance is potent and has assisted in guiding several students into the spirit world, and we have been able to produce a residue from its petals that can be used in various forms of artistry." Yet another elder's turn to speak. "The colors are quite wonderful and vivid, and have already been put to use in the temple." The elders gently tapped the palms of their left hands with the fingers of their right hands, a formal gesture of praise and appreciation. The central elder spoke up once more. "The other flower..." They held up the lupine. An ominous silence seemed to stretch on a little bit too long for Dorje's liking. "It is very toxic. It is good you...."
The words faded from Dorje's ears. He could see their mouths moving, but he could no longer hear their words. All he heard was the sound of his heart beating in his ears, which were growing hot. Sweat began running down his face and the young monk fell to his knees. "What have I done....?" He asked himself, interrupting the elders. Tears welled up in his eyes and he clenched them shut hoping this was all a terrible dream.
"What is the problem young Dorje?" An elder asked. Dorje stared blankly at the cultural leaders of his people, full of wisdom and compassion, and it broke his heart to even look them in the eyes. He turned and sprinted from the chamber. The wind rushed past him as he used it to hasten his movements until he reached his room where the few belongings of his were. Ignoring the looks and questions of everyone he knew and cared about, he just ran. One of his friends tried to speak to him as he moved through the temple's innards, "Dorje! Did you hear?" They called. "Raava's Avatar pa...." But Dorje was gone.
On his way to the settlement, Dorje plucked some more of the flowers from his not-so-secret garden, a way to communicate with the settlers below. When he arrived there was nobody left. A dozen or so graves were all that was left of the settlement. They had buried their loved ones and fled. He dropped to his knees, the flowers dropped to the ground beside him, and he wept in his tear soaked hands. "I'm so sorry!" He choked on his words. "I didn't know..." The sound of grunts and screams broke him from his self-pity, and when he turned he saw a large man charging him with a giant club. Dorje rolled out of the way as the club smashed into the ground where he had just been kneeling, and gasped with wide eyes at the enraged man. "I'm so, so sorry..." The monk lifted his hands in surrender knowing he deserved whatever this man had in store for him...but as the club came swinging toward his face, Dorje felt the rush of air from the weapon and without thinking, used the momentum of the man's swing and pulled that rush of air aside. The adrenaline-induced move sent the man crashing head first into the base of the mountain, breaking every bone in the man's face. His body crumbled to the ground, blood leaking from every orifice: eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, as well as the open wounds Dorje had accidentally made in his sudden change of heart. The monk just looked on in horror....
-----------
8 years later...
"Another drink!" The man demanded of his patron. "I haven't lost yet..." He curled his fingers a few times until the cup slid across the bar to him. He wore a burgundy robe beneath a brown leather suit, tight fitting, light weight and breathable, black metallic buckles holding the straps tight, black fingerless gloves and wore nothing but dried earth on his feet. Long dirty-blonde, almost brown, dreadlocks fell past his shoulders, and an unkempt grizzled beard protruded from his face. His almond shaped chestnut colored eyes glared at the barkeep who put his hands up in defeat. "C'mon man..." He said. "You're bleeding me dry..." A large burly man, well dressed and groomed, stepped out from a back room then. "He is the mighty Hurricane!" The man boomed, drawing screams and whistles of praise and glory from everyone in the tavern. "As long as he fights and business is good," the man said lower now as he stared at the barkeep, "he can drink as much as he wants! Is that a problem?" The barkeep shook his head, and scurried away to see to other customers.
The owner laughed and patted the Hurricane on the shoulder. "One of these days," he said, "you're gonna have to enlighten me..." Dorje emptied his glass in a single swig and slammed it onto the countertop between him and the owner, Jekaar. "Who's next?"
