Time: Morning, 11 am Location: Athletic Arena Interactions: Mina @Tae
Leo watched transfixed as the execution began. The guards made a dramatic unveiling of the stake and pyre before the criminal was cuffed to it. It was clear why no offer of a pardon was presented, the only answer to high treason was death. But even stranger that the royal family didnât see this as worth their time; they showed indifference toward a crime that attacked order and rule of law.
Why the criminal had been allowed to keep his treacherous tongue, and why the guards had allowed him last words, was beyond Leo. The traitorâs ravings were wild and mad as he was granted both stage and audience to spread his chaotic notions about the king and hidden power. Ideas that now spread through the crowd. Leo wondered for a moment just how long they were going to permit this lunatic to rant. Far too long it seemed.
There was a subtle chill as the executioner was beckoned and strode towards the pyre, gleaming torch in hand. He felt Minaâs hand on his arm and heard her say âsomething isnât rightâŚâ, just as the executioner removed her hood and decreed it time for the traitor to burn. It wasnât right, the entire execution was a bungled mess so far but at least the finale would be difficult to screw up. He glanced at Mina, noting her closed eyes and disquiet expression. It was a surprise, Mina did not strike him as being easily shaken. Leo remembered the first time heâd seen a man burn, the immense weight of dread and horror that time and experience had rid him of as he stood to watch another. There was a spark of envy and a sobering realization that he didnât feel much of anything to watch this now.
The torch was finally dropped upon the pyre. Even stranger, as much as the doomed man struggled amidst the rising flames and billows of smoke, he did not scream. He laughed. And from within the flames, a flash of glowing red orbs that Leo mistook for rising embers, glowed. One of the guards, it seemed, had accidentally lit his own pants on fire. What an idiot. Leo shook his head, he had more than a good idea of the state of Caesonia now. His odd nostalgia, and burning curiosity, for the event, were far less important than Minaâs current state of distress. Leo was about to offer to escort her somewhere else when she took a weak couple of steps backward.
âMina?â She was now a ghastly shade of pale. He moved to steady her, an arm around her waist with enough time to stop her from crashing to the ground just as her slight frame became only dead weight. He gently guided her down onto one of the seating benches in the area, unceremoniously pushing anyone nearby out of the way. âMina?â He repeated softly. He knelt to her level and figured the event had all just been a bit too much for her, surely sheâd be up in a few moments.
Time: 11:00 am Location: Ballroom Interactions: Ariella@Tpartywithzombi
Callum honestly expected the public interest in talking with him now to have dropped off. He certainly wasnât expecting any interest in him from anyone perched at the top of the Caesonian hierarchy. So to find Ariella Edwardâs violet eyes on him was a surprise.
Salvation walked towards his table, not in the form of the red-haired noblewoman, but in the glasses of wine held in her hand. He imagined quite a few mothers out there had advised their hopeful daughters that winning over Prince Callum was as easy as keeping a filled wine glass in his hand. Not bad advice either, but why anyone would view capturing his hand as a prize was beyond him. He wasnât going to be a king, he wasnât even liked by the current king or the crowned prince, whatever small gain they thought he could provide was already long gone.
" Forgive my intrusion, Prince Callum." She spoke, curtsied, and offered him not only a glass of wine but a cloth of cold water as well. It was a kind gesture. And it was so hard to tell whether people were being nice to Prince Callum or to just Callum. Either way, he still reached for the glass of wine as soon as it was placed on the table. The wine also tasted more like onion than wine but he didnât hold it against the drink.
âThank you, and youâre not intruding, anyone who brings a drink is always welcomed around me.â Callum replied flippantly but heâd still risen from his chair to bow to her before sitting back down. Cal leaned his head back and put the cloth on his eyes. It really did help. So he relaxed a bit and found it easier to just listen to Ariella this way; when he couldnât see the extravagant efforts put into appearances and he could just think of her as a person and not one of the Edwards. She asked if she could sit as she made her introduction.
âYou may, and I know who you are,â Callum added but he realized that wasnât entirely true. âWell I guess I mean, I know your name and who your parents are, but thatâs really not the same thing is it?â Heâd hated being thought of as being like his parents, he wasnât going to do that to other people, even if he had seen enough glimpses of Dutchess Edwards to know she was awful.
âI think I should let you know that if you're looking to talk officially with a proper prince who enjoys all of this,â Callum gestured with one hand to the entirety of the ballroom, âand is looking to end this summer with a wedding, then youâve picked the wrong table.â He took the cloth off his eyes and sat it down next to the onion and the worm pot. Ariella came from the same sort of family as him, illusions surrounded both their lives, and if she wanted someone to feed into all that there were plenty of nobles around who would. âBut if you still want to talk to the idiot who ate an onion off the floor a few minutes ago, heâs more than happy to share a drink. As long as youâre fine with dropping the titles, Iâd rather just be a person right now than a prince.â Callum made his offer and waited, fully expecting her to leave to speak with one of his brothers.
Time: 11:00 am Location: Ballroom Interactions: none
"GUARDS! Get that onion woman away from my sons! NOW! And Callum, conduct yourself with some respect for the ladies if not for yourself!"
Callum made his way back to his seat, still staring at Edin, and loudly chewing that same onion bite with his mouth wide open. Now that he had a mouthful of onion he didnât particularly want to swallow it. His eyes burned, his mouth was filled with onion-infused saliva, and he had to choke down this god-awful decision or give Edin the satisfaction of him acknowledging in any way that eating this onion was a bad idea. So Callum sat back down in his chair, continuing his show of preformative mastication until the onion that was in his mouth was entirely mush. Then he choked it down and chased it with what remained in his cup of coffee.
Another bad idea because coffee mixed with onion was not in any way better than onion alone. He realized he could have spit the onion into the cup but it was way too late for that. Everything still tasted like onions, but he didnât let a single expression slip through to betray how disgusting he found the experience. He looked away from Edin, who had long stopped paying attention anyway, and looked ahead at whoever else was still watching. Surely no one here wanted to sit and chat with someone who just had his last visitor leave tripping over the chair to get away and who ate onions off the floor. Maybe he wouldnât have to disappoint anyone else here, theyâd already know what they were getting into.
Since Edin wasnât looking, Callum tried to discreetly wipe the tears out of his eyes and drool from his mouth on his sleeve. Except it was the sleeve that contained the hand that had been holding that damn onion and now his fingers smelled like the onion. His eyes only grew redder and more watery. No longer discrete, Cal next tried wiping his eyes clear with the other sleeve, and any victory he thought he had over Edin from eating that bite of onion with a straight face was now lost amongst the frequent face wiping and occasional gagging.
Gods only know how long he was now going to be stuck here where everything smelled and tasted like onion. But maybe heâd spared Ruby something; Edinâs full attention, or at least when people talked about this, and they would, maybe theyâd all laugh at Callum eating an onion off the floor and not at the clumsy girl who tripped over a chair. He was fine with that, people thought there was something wrong with him anyway.
He gathered the peeled-off bits of the onion from the table and stuck them in his now empty coffee cup and placed the rest of the onion on top. He wasnât eating any more of it, and it was probably one of his least favorite ideas, but maybe it had done something a little bit helpful. He didnât feel good about it though, not because it was entirely disgusting and not because he was probably ruining the whole regal air of the event. No Callum currently felt like a jackass because he had promised Wulfric he wouldnât do this. And then he did it. On a whim. Just like he pushed buttons because he knew where they were and he was angry enough not to care what happened after that. So heâd looked at just about everyone in that room while he was making another scene but not Wulfric, he didnât have the nerve for that.
He noticed that Ruby really had left the tiny worm pot behind and he moved it closer to him. He was going to keep it safe until she wanted it back, and he figured she definitely would still want it back since he was doing a terrible job at this whole princeâs court thing. He wondered if someone would bring him a drink if he asked for one now. Probably not.
Time: Morning, 11 am Location: Athletic Arena Interactions: Mina @Tae
âI know what you meant, it is just a tender subject, which I also know you understand. And, thank you.â Leo answered with a soft and careful reply. It was a matter he did not need to casually discuss. It wasnât polite conversation and Leo knew better than stand around and discuss topics that he was unable to remain calm and rational about. if he spoke on it for too long and heâd say things that werenât for public ears. Grief would unravel and he was doing pretty well at keeping it coiled and contained. It was his burden to carry and the only person he could share burdens like that with was gone.
Minaâs words on the execution were easier to hear and she now had far more of his attention than the event taking place. While Leo had noted the absence of any members of the Caesoniaâs royal family, he had not considered its potential importance beyond them not finding this particular criminal worth their time. Mina made a solid point; the game of acting as if a pardon could be earned, that the monarchs cared even for those who had lost the right to live, was necessary to keep the common folk believing that the game wasnât rigged from the start. Without that hope, people got desperate. The trick was dosing it out, too much hope, and people got greedy, too little and youâd have a revolution pounding on the door. The common folk needed to be given those few scraps of hope to keep them quiet and dreaming of something better rather than demanding it.
âHope really does make the sturdiest cages.â Leo agreed with her statement, not entirely sure if Mina had meant her observation in the way heâd taken it but it hardly mattered to him, it was a valuable insight nonetheless. âNow witnessing history, sounds like a fantastic way to spend the summer.â Leo grinned and dropped his voice to whisper before continuing.
âWhether itâs here or elsewhere, Sorian feels far less stable than I remember. Take last nightâs party, every single noble in attendance now has a very bizarre case of amnesia for the entire event. And those parties have been recurring around here for a while now involving the two youngest Danrose royals.â Leo offered up his knowledge of last nightâs events, it was hardly a secret, and word of it would spread quickly enough with or without his help.
âNot to mention at some point last night a prankster managed to sneak into my room and had more than enough time to ruin every pair of shoes I had here. Which says nothing good about security. Even the palace servants are hostile and unruly. Which is to say, from one Varian to another, thrilling and historic, almost certainly, but potentially dangerous here as well. Not that I would imply you canât handle it, but added caution wouldnât hurt.â Leo left out the fact that the said prankster revealed herself to be one of the hostile and unruly servants. There was no way he was going to willingly admit heâd been bested by some impoverished miscreant. He offered what he thought would be useful to Mina because he thought highly of both her and her uncle and she had shared insights with him.
Time: 11:00 am Location: Ballroom Interactions: Ruby @SausagePat, Auguste @Inertia, Edin
âOh I canât wait to return to the worms.â
âSame.â Callum muttered though he doubted that was the appropriate response. Rubyâs entire demeanor had changed, she seemed in a panic to get out, or at least away from him. Both the chair and Ruby crashed to the floor, and for some reason, there was now an onion rolling around as well. Well, there goes staying out of trouble. He really had tried to keep his word to Wulfric, but if they had really wanted this whole event to go smoothly then they wouldnât have included him.
Cal wasnât sure what heâd said wrong, maybe heâd gone on about worms too much. Or maybe it wasnât entirely the fact that he was talking about worms but that everyone here, Ruby included, expected him to act more like a prince and be able to think of something more interesting than worms to talk about. Then again maybe five minutes was about all it took for people to figure out he wasnât someone they wanted to be around. It didnât much matter why, it was his fault, and now Ruby had made a spectacle and he had to fix it because Ruby seemed far too nice to deal with Edinâs attention.
âSorry I-â Callum got up from his chair but didnât get a chance to offer a hand to help Ruby up as she was already on her way out. Probably for the best, he wasnât exactly sure what he was going to say. Sorry, I ruined this event for you. Sorry, Iâm kind of a shit prince. That didnât seem like a useful thing to add right now, and he needed to try and find ways to be useful rather than just apologizing for messing things up. Callum picked up the chair and sat it back. Then he grabbed the onion off the floor and grinned.
âHey, Auguste, I got a gift and a snack, not too bad huh?â He asked, louder than necessary as he slowly peeled off the first layer of the onion and set the peelings on the table. Cal made no effort to hide a grin as his eyes found Edinâs. Callum lifted up the raw onion and took a bite the same way he wouldâve if it had been an apple.
But it was not an apple and whiskey, coffee, and a mouthful of raw onion were certainly not the breakfast of champions. It took most of his will not to hurl at the taste and the unwanted amount of onion juice now in his mouth. He forced himself to chew the crunchy bits of onion with a smile as his eyes never left Edinâs. âMmm, my favorite.â He lied, mouth still full of half-chewed onion as he spoke. Then just because it was obnoxious he continued to chew with his mouth wide open.
Time: Morning, 11 am Location: Athletic Arena Interactions: Mina @Tae
Leo was caught off guard by Mina, and by her comment even more. He cringed momentarily before his jaw tightened as the words or is it Duke Smithwood now, rattled around in his head. The immediate instinct to snap back and shout that his father was not dead, not until there was proof, still tried to claw its way out of him. But it had been over a year and every day it got a little bit harder to even hope there was a chance he was alive. Every time it was brought up, no matter how subtly, it cracked that delusional hope just a little bit more.
âLady Blackwood, your face is always a delight to see.â He spoke with a polite but hollow tone, bowed as was expected, and a polite smile twisted its way across his face. Leo took care to ensure nothing else beyond the image of a proper nobleman was seen.
âStravy remains in the capable hands of her Dutchess,â Leo said, purposefully acknowledging only the true Dutchess of Stravy as he spoke, âand after last nightâs folly Iâm more than sure my mother has pushed back any thoughts of retirement plans.â He forced a calm and friendly reply; this was not a bridge to burn over an imagined slight. He knew Mina enough to assume she wasnât here to make light of his loss and he held no animosity towards House Blackwood.
The issues between Leo and his mother were entirely personal, but in her duties as a Dutchess, he found very few faults and he was in no rush to be named a Duke. It felt far too soon to hold his fatherâs title and he wasnât ready to accept it either. Going to late-night parties that draw ire from a foreign monarchy and nearly losing all composure with random servants was only proof that was true. His attention turned back to the execution as he thought about the other half of what Mina had said. He made no comment on the men who ended their lives before they could face the executionerâs justice, he figured his thoughts on that matter would be unwelcomed.
âIt is effective, for a while. All these people here to watch, get their fill of bloodshed, and theyâll all leave thankful it wasnât them, thinking as long as they stay in line it wonât be them awaiting the executioner. Until it stops working and they will all look for a new way to satisfy a need for blood.â That was the way the cycle went; those in power used brutality to keep the order only to have everything fall apart beneath revolutions. Then came chaos and in that chaos, a new power rose up and the cycle began again. âThank the gods Varian has moved beyond such displays.â He added with a smirk. He almost meant it but he was here all the same enjoying the spectacle of old-fashioned public execution.
âThis one already feels different, the man out there doesnât look like a doomed man awaiting his fate. He looks like rage, like he still has something left to prove. Should be an interesting one.â Leo did little to hide his excitement as he spoke, they were both here to witness it, and he saw no reason to feign shame at that.
Time: 11:00 am Location: Ballroom Interactions: Ruby @SausagePat
Callum, slightly confused, did his best to match the strange and overly zealous handshake from Ruby. She was dismissive towards his comment about the king, whether that was because she wanted a happier conversation topic or she simply held a general disinterest towards the kingâs antics, he wasnât sure. He stared at her hand as she left it lingering between them, eyelashes fluttering and fingers waggling expectedly. Callum obliged, less than gracefully, as he stood to politely kiss her hand, and knocked against the table which rattled and echoed in the room before the sat back down.
Her instance to turn the conversation back to pottery was more than welcomed. It was a topic so far removed from all the things he didnât want to talk about, this day or any day in the foreseeable future, that Callum felt much more relaxed. He didnât hate talking to people half as much as he pretended he did, he only hated how fake it usually was.
âTen pots?â Cal repeated the offer, whistled, and shook his head. âThat seems like a lot, wouldnât know what to do with so many and Iâd hate for them to go to waste. One sounds perfect. And I like purple or blue.â He offered, before he could think up something else to add Ruby was rifling through her things and pulled out a small, slightly dusty, teapot. She excitedly launched into a story about it and Cal listened with equal enthusiasm.
He took the tiny teapot from Ruby, holding it as she had; like it was a precious thing, and he was careful not to drop it as he looked it over. âCanât say Iâve ever given much thought to worms.â Or pots but he didnât mention that aloud. The teapot itself seemed simple and functional, well made but hardly meeting the standards for anything that would be found in the palace. He liked that about the tiny pot; that it was a mundane object decorated to honor an oft-forgotten creature. âAnd you, made a teapot that remembers them,â Callum said, nodding, âand to the worms we all return, whether we remember them or not.â Maybe that was just the whiskey leading him to ramble and find meaning in random things, but today a worm pot made perfect sense to him. Cal carefully offered the teapot back to Ruby. âA very fine piece, thank you for sharing it with me.â
Callum gave everyone he met snap judgments. They often werenât fair, he was just as easily swayed by rumors and his own biasâ as everyone else was. But he really did try to see the good in people, and people he knew nothing about were much easier to see in a positive light. He could trust strangers inviting him to parties with lax rules, he assumed bakers who spent all day making cakes did so to add something sweet to the world, and today he decided that anyone who would make a pot to celebrate worms certainly had to be a kind person.
âIf you are going to make me a pot, then Iâm going to have to figure out something to make you in return. Sadly Iâm not half the accomplished craftsman as you are but maybe you could help me think of something.â He offered with a smile. And he then thought about worms some more. How they were a small, seemingly insignificant part of a much bigger world, but one day, even Edin would become just another feast for the worms and his smile brightened at that.
Time: 11:00 am Location: Ballroom Interactions: Ruby @SausagePat
Callum was surprised at how quickly the fair-haired stranger made her way to his table. She spoke with a hint of an accent more common in the less-than-affluent parts of Sorian than with the nobility and she looked at him with hopeful, mismatched, eyes. He was pretty sure if she were one of Sorianâs eligible high-class and wealthy noblewomen heâd have at least heard of her. Edin certainly enjoyed listing off all eligible noblewomen and commenting on which features he approved and disapproved of during his insufferable marriage speeches. But Cal kept his suspicions to himself and simply went along with the ruse.
âThat is a rather impressive pedigree Ruby. Iâm Callum, it is a pleasure to meet you.â He offered the required polite smile with the greeting. Her boast of social status, wealth, and refinement did little to impress him, but the unusual offer of a handcrafted pot was far more charming. âNo oneâs ever offered to make me a pot, I think thatâd make a wonderful gift.â Callum added. She had seemed more enthusiastic and earnest when she had offered him a pot than when she spoke of noble heritage, he tried steering the conversation back to that.
âAs for hesitating to make my pick; the king was talking and my ears have this terrible habit of turning off when he does so, seems I tuned back in just in time though, eh?â Callum spoke with a grin. He tested the waters, waited to see her reaction to his small slight against the king.
âAh look at my beautiful blonde-haired sons. Sons Iâve created.â
The comment barely registered a response; with every fiber of his being Callum rejected thinking of Edin as a father, and Edin had always mirrored the sentiment. There was no bond, no link between them, only mutual hatred and it remained a wound so old that it no longer carried a sting. It was only satisfying, to feel separated from the source of rot in his life.
I am no Danrose. I will be better. He reminded himself. But a quieter, more persistent, voice whispered how, and he had no real answer for it. Then it whispered when, and without the how he had no answer for that either, and he felt his stomach twisting. And then it asked, and for how long? How long before he gave up fighting them, everyone had a breaking point, when would he find his? Callum tried to ignore it, he placed what remained of his coffee further away from him, and tried to think about anything else.
He pushed all his thoughts away, good and bad, closed his eyes, and focused only on breathing. He found himself a few more precious minutes where none of this existed.
âYou are doing well here, just going to give you some well warning of advice. You need to do your best to impress that woman from the Alidasht. I hear she is just your type. You will be thoroughly impressedâŚâ
âDoubtful.â Callum muttered at Alden who had broken his focus and Cal barely bothered to glance in the advisor's direction. As if the once long-lost advisor knew enough about him to know his type. As if heâd ever trust the opinion or word of a man who was suddenly a part of Edinâs inner circle. No, Callum had seen enough of the Shehzadi at the ball last night; the whole better than everyone air about her, harsh piercing eyes, and the lack of warmth in her expressions that made him suspect her blood ran colder than the serpent that adorned her. If anything he guessed she was more Wulfricâs type than his.
Callum was entirely pleased to see that the Shehzadi was drawn into Wulfricâs orbit. A completely different Shehzadi from the one his brother had danced with last night. Gods, just thinking about Wulfric being the center of a love triangle between two sisters of a foreign royal family was enough to draw out a smirk. Scandals like that could really tear royal houses apart.
He glanced at the other two women before them. He gave a friendly smile at Zarai who he suspected, much like himself, was here only by her family's command. He didnât recognize the other women, which was probably a good sign, as it meant she likely wasnât a constant fixture at extravagant and pompous gatherings, and therefore someone potentially interesting. Either Zarai or the stranger seemed like fine options for conversation, so Callum gestured to the open chair in front of him and shrugged.
âGrab a seat,â he offered, âor bring your own,â he glanced at Zarai, âif you like.â Callum did his best to seem friendly and approachable, but he certainly wasnât interested in forcing anyone to speak with him.
Time: Afternoon, 2pm Location: Dugmaghord - The Pit to the Shaman's hut to the desert Mentions: Pâsh Weapon: Meliora a cobalt glaive with unbreaking and returning charms Armor: Just the clothes on his back Equipment: Lockpicking kit, small knife, 3 large red potions, and a pouch of amas.
Leaf sat loyally beside Pâsh as the orcs continued their pit battles. He studied how they fought and he cheered on the brutality with the same enthusiasm as his orc brethren. He feasted and drank with Pâsh and his innermost circle, orcs who held unquestionable loyalty to their Grand Chieftan. The orc world was simple, Leaf understood much of it, and it was easy to find oneâs place and feel comfortable in it.
But today his place in the orc kingdom had changed, he was no longer a scrappy outsider who simply trained with them, now Leaf on the Wind was part of their society, today he was War Chief. He could feel the eyes of other orcs around him and he wondered if there had ever been a cat-orc here before or if he was the very first. Leaf, as was his nature, felt only pride at his new title and none of the fear that should come when so many orc eyes glared upon him.
The fights came and went, the food was eaten, the orc booze drunk and Leaf soon left Pâsh to conduct his business in peace. Or, as he figured Pâsh would prefer it, in a very orcish brand of organized chaos. He found a warm patch of sunlight to lay upon the sand, full and exhausted, to bask and nap. The brief rest was soon interrupted just as heavy eyes had finally closed by a sharp jab to an already tender spot on his ribs.
âYa fight gud fer kitty.â A familiar voice spoke and Leaf smiled in presence of one of the few orcs who had been willing to train him when he first arrived here.
Räum was well into his elderly years and somehow none the weaker for it. He held the title of shaman and wore the bones and teeth of the creatures heâd defeated on his clothes and upon his staff. During numerous training sessions, Leaf had often been bruised by smacks from that very staff. Most orcs respected the shaman and even fewer dared to challenge Räum who, in his prime, had been a savage warrior, and who now freely gave wisdom and training to those who came to him willing to learn.
âNot bad for a scrawny, little, cat at all huh?â Leaf replied basking in the sun upon his spot on the ground.
âDonât ya get bigheaded. Ya make problems little War Chief.â Räum gave a snort and shake of his head, his collection of decorative bones rattling as he did so.
âProblems? Iâm not making problems. They love me now. Iâm practically one of âem.â Leaf offered back, wearing a comfortable smile.
âBig orc, donât want, little War Chief.â Räum spoke slowly like he was talking to a child whoâd been knocked in the head too many times.
âAh, Pâsh, donât mean nothinâ by that heâs just-â Leaf stopped. What was he going to say? Pâsh was just being nice? That wasnât true, Pâsh was a lot of things but nice, for no reason, was not one of them. You didnât lead Avalia's strongest, most brutal race by being a nice guy. Whatever Pâshâs intentions were it was now painfully obvious to Leaf that he had a target on his back for any orc who wanted to be war chief. âI guess I outta tell Pâsh I ainât cut out to be a war chief around here.â
âNow little War Chief tell Pâsh wut he do?â Räum asked, his teeth and tusk displayed in a grin.
âOh no, nope, little War Chief ainât doing that.â Leaf shook his head and crossed that idea right off. âI guess thatâs what Pâsh meant about getting a bodyguardâŚâ Leaf wondered how he was going to find a bodyguard, and if having one would only make him look weaker to the orcs.
âWorry later. Today fresh little war chief hunts with best orcs, all war chiefs follow me today.â Räum spoke in a somber tone, one that Leaf missed because he only heard the word âhuntâ.
âWeâre going huntin?â Leaf asked excitedly as he hopped up off the ground. âYa shouldâve said sooner, Iâm always ready for huntin!â
Räum grunted, unamused. âImportant hunt, not fer cat-antics. Tonight Pâsh leads towards war. Today we honor harvest, day of sacrfice, day of preparations, powerful day. Good day to do it.â
âDo what now?â Leaf asked as he followed.
âRite of Shaman. War needs strength, needs new Shaman to lead down new path.â
âSo this is like, what, your retirement party?â Leaf asked and at this question Räum gave a dark chuckle.
âYes, today, a fine celebration o' Räum.â The elder orc agreed.
Leaf was led to the Shamanâs hut which was already crowded with the other war chiefs. Leaf was careful to match the posture and attitudes of the orcs around him. Somber, and standing with the pride of a warrior, he watched as the door was closed, the windows sealed shut, and the hut was lit only by the small fireplace in the corner.
The hut was cluttered with a wide variety of dried plants that hung from lofty ceilings, dusty jars lined every surface, and sun-bleached bones decorated the walls. Plants and ingredients Leaf couldnât even begin to identify, and bones from creatures he could barely name. He knew the war chiefs by name and reputation only but recognized Talyn, the grandson and apprentice to Räum immediately. Talyn stood expressionless by a table which held an intricately carved dagger of bone, a golden pot of water, a small bowl of powder, and a pile of dried plants.
The first stage of the rite began as Räum and Talyn started chanting; praises were first given to the orc god and then his presence was invoked. Leaf did his best to chant the proper replies along with the other orcs around him. Räum continued to lead the chanting as he threw a handful of powder into the fire which strengthened the flames. Talyn began tossing the dried plants into the fire. Thick pungent smoke filled the tent, and Leaf did as the orcs around him did and took in deep breaths of the smoke.
Each breath of smoke burned at his throat, and with each exhale he felt his primal nature rising to the surface. The need to hunt, to use teeth and claw to tear, to find strength from fallen prey; Leaf felt his nature reflected in the nature of the orc god.
Räum raised a dagger made of bone and clasped his hand to Talynâs hand before stabbing the dagger through their joined hands. Talynâs other hand added a handful of powder to a pot of water, then the two orcs plunged their dagger-joined hands into the water. Räum removed the dagger before both orcs pulled their hands from the water. Räum and Talyn each grabbed a handle of the pot and then tossed the water onto the fire, extinguishing it, before letting out a guttural roar.
The flames died out, and in the darkness, the orcs echoed the roar and Leaf too emitted the primal growl of a cat. He did as the orcs did, fist pounding against his chest, his glaive smacked against the ground, the sounds of both barely heard amidst the many orc fists, war hammers, and axes that all did the same. Talyn opened the door to the hut and led the orcs from the hut. Leaf followed along ready to hunt and ready to be a part of an orc tradition that few outside this tribe had seen.
He soon found himself walking near Talyn and Räum, the of which later seemed so intensely focused it felt wrong to bother him with more questions. He wondered if he even should ask questions.
âSpeak, littlest war chief.â Talyn glanced at him.
âJust wondering what happens next.â
âWe go deep in the desert, to kill a beast of worth, greater the beast, greater the blessing. Strong connection to War means strong shaman.â Talyn offered a straightforward and clipped explanation and Leaf nodded.
War was the word most often chosen to represent the nameless orc god. An orc worshipped through violence, War appreciated sacrifices, and Warâs gift was one of strength. Leaf needed strength, the orc way was the most direct path to becoming what he wanted to be, a warrior.
Talyn seemed to wait for more questions but Leaf asked none. He followed, he watched, and he learned.
A party of orcs, and a feline war chief, deeply entranced in their primal natures set out into the desert for a sacred hunt; to kill a worthy beast and prove their devotion to the orc god and show the strength of the Shaman line within the Dugmaghord clan.
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Tpartywithzombi
PapaOso
CitrusArms
princess
Izurich
Atsushi akajima
Mixtape Ghost N
Tae
pugbutter
Apex Sunburn
