Grey and ominous colors tracked over the clouds as the winged avatar burst past them and lingered in the sky just above. Aveira's powerful wingbeats forced them to whip and whirl away like fleeing cattle, and the spirits of wind and water gathered and bunched themselves up uneasily, threatening to bundle into a thunderstorm to ward off Aveira's presence. Luckily for them, the avatar was not interested in tormenting the clouds further, but instead rocketed away with another beat of her wings. Before long, she was a tiny dot in the sky, speeding towards the west with breakneck speed.
Aveira was frustrated. Not only had she been made to abandon her project in the north early after decades of silence from the goddess, but now Neiya could not wait a full week before interrupting again to give her new instructions. She had abandoned Mekellos and his Acadian puppets without much more than a simple goodbye, yet she doubted that he would need her assistance to fulfill the cleansing of the forest that that they had begun – indeed, the only thing that truly bothered her was that the goddess had begun to speak, and now did so with neither acknowledgment or concern for their previous plans. Her only solace as she drifted through the clouds on wide colorful wings was that intervention in this new place would directly benefit her own little merelli project – now that Neiya seemed to have forgotten or stopped caring about the task she gave her so long ago.
The horned angel toyed with a few thoughts of playful rebellion. If Neiya no longer cared about the northern merelli, perhaps she would return herself and rule them as she saw fit. She had been much too lenient – decades had gone into shaping their minds, yet she doubted her trained youth were ready to handle the task on their own. The only benefit to this current task was it’s possible boon to the merelli project; Aveira cared about the Westfold about as much as she did Acadia. In another life, perhaps she would return to Acadia and raze it just to show Mekellos what real power looked like. He had let mortals make his mind soft, there was no doubt.
The winged avatar zipped across the sky, whipping up the colorful sky into a frenzy as she passed. Finally, when she could sight the mountains beneath, she came to an abrupt halt with a single beat of her wings. There she hovered, no more suspended by actual flight but rather willing the air to hold her up, as she extended her mind to feel and grasp at all that Galbar could be coerced to feel. Tendrils of black, blue and gold snaked from the ephemeral feathers on her wings, feeling out slowly in the air and sky, and crawling out over the void to root herself in the world. The world around her grew agitated and fearful, the very fabric of the world trembling with a building dread from the terror angels’ budding onslaught. Even from after she could sense those same emotions for which Neiya had once instilled in her a deep love.
This new land, the Westfold, was rife with hatred, pain, and fear. It was almost intoxicating, but it also made for a clear understanding of the goddess' interest in the region. Surely Neiya's words of mercy towards a people could be carried out in a way that bolstered these nascent troubles. She raised her hands into the sky and closed her eyes, readying herself for the ritual she had in mind. There was nothing quite like making an entrance that would captivate the entire region.
Solus had flown a fair distance upwards towards the sensation that had first caught his mind. There was no mistaking it now, these energies and the unnatural dread warping all of the world around him as he flew through the sky was the same that he had been struck with several decades ago. It was like a beacon, infecting the world with pulsating enmity, growing stronger for each inch he cleared towards the source. It didn’t take a solar giant to figure out that something nebulous was taking place.
He broke through the clouds and found her. Tendrils ran from her wings into the sky, trying to corrupt all the world as she had the aiviri.
The Betrayer, the Fearspawn, the Hatred that Bloomed.
Aveira.
What was she doing? It didn’t matter, as he approached, for whatever it was he needed to stop it.
“AVEIRA!” His voice boomed like thunder, the clouds crackling with solar energy. “MY OLD ENEMY!” His voice, unrestrained now out of fear of mortal ears, shook the heavens. Spears of sunlight formed in his hands, letting her speak would be foolish. For nothing she said could be trusted. He lent back his arm, and threw a spear at her.
The angelic avatar shot her eyes open as Solus voice cracked like thunder across the sky, and that simple threat inherently borne in his words was enough for her to react. Her wings whipped and thrashed, battering the spear aside in protection of her form. It was enough to distract her - the tendrils began to dissipate and the tension carried in the air began to ease. He had interrupted whatever despicable act she was intending for Galbar next, and that fact seemed to make her focus entirely on him.
"I leave one fool behind to find another," she boomed with a palpable hatred, her wings whipping to carry her higher at first, like a hawk preparing to dive for prey. "I have longed to finish what we started!"
Solus’ only reply was to heft his other spear and throw it at her, before he himself started for her in a burst of lightning like speed. He was ready for this and this time, he could not allow her to continue. The fate of all depended upon it. Aveira stabilized in the sky above, drawn out of her impending attack by the second spear. That too was sent careening to the side by a slap of her massive wing, but it was enough to keep her still for just a moment.
It allowed for Solus to collide with her, the giant tackling the smaller avatar with a force that sent shockwaves, blasting apart the cloud cover as they were sent careening down. Solus punched Aveira time and time again and she did the same as they tumbled ever further to the mountainous terrain below. Each blow was as loud as thunder, as fierce as lightning and as dangerous as anything ever could be and neither yet relented. Ephemeral wings beat with a fury to both try and break away, and alternatively swipe angrily at Solus like a set of large blades trying to batter and cut at his glowing body. Aveira seemed to grow more and more bestial as they struggled, her features contorting with a rage and fury that made her fists seethe with darkness and her eyes burn with dread hatred. Each punch of his furious sun-tempered boulder like fists enraged her further, and like a frenzied bird she clawed and beat angrily, caught in the cycle of violence.
They fell towards the mountainside, exchanging violent blows like a falling star at war with itself. They spun and whipped around erratically as Aveira tried to break loose, but eventually they ran out of air to fall. With a deafening crack of stone and a thunderous boom, Solus felt the stone of the mountain crumble and crack around him as they slammed into the mountain range as beyond lethal speeds. Aveira was undeterred by the shockwave, smashing her fist down at him like an angry ant, trying to beat him down into the mountain with each smash, and whipping at him with her wings like a restless gnat - if that gnat wielded a lethal blade.
When her efforts met resistance from Solus, she found a newfound focus, staring down at him with glowing, deep-seated hatred. Her eyes burned with a fire that seemed to evoke the primal reactions deep with the sun, and her body seethed with a heat that echoed and carried across the mountain. In response, the ground began to crack and blister beneath them, as the same burning light in her eyes shone from underneath Solus, casting rays of blood-red light into the sky before a turbulent heat gathered and built beneath him.
Aveira ripped herself free and shot up into the sky as the ground cracked, and hot flame and liquid stone erupted violently from the mountain, rippling up around Solus to drown him in molten fire. Scalding stones and unbearable heat shot into his frame and scattered into the sky as his crash site rapidly turned to a burning inferno of roiling flames and lava.
Solus was made from the sun, this heat and anger meant nothing to him and he exploded from the bowels of his confinement, emerging from the lava as an inferno of anger and might. His gaze fell upon Aveira again and he jumped at her, breaking apart the stone at his feet. This caused another fiery explosion as he was propelled towards her, scattering molten stone and heated debris over the mountainside.
The winged avatar met his charge with a wicked fury, her hands collating some manner of dark energies that she was forced to dissipate once more in order to raise her arms and defend herself. Still, despite her height she was a tiny figure beside the charging giant, and dodging away from his assault quickly became a fool's errand.
He threw a fist at her and it collided with her arms, the force of the blow sending a shockwave that blew dust and rocks into the air, with the ground below her exploding. Aveira was flung into the mountain, shattering the side like it was a clay pot. As boulders the size of houses fell down around her, she barely had time to reorient herself before Solus came crashing down once more. Two arms slammed into the rock beside her as Aveira clambered out of the way to save herself from the blow but Solus caught her by her foot as she tried to escape and then threw her through into the mountain. The giant did not relent as he battered her into the rock, each blow like an earthquake.
He punched her hard again and Aveira erupted out the other side, stabilizing herself with quick wing beats as she braced for him to come. Yet he did not. Where had he gone? Her malevolent gaze scanned for the giant from whence she came but only rocks fell. She flew further away for safety's sake, rapid wing beats keeping her in the air but ready to shoot away over the horizon. The volcano was but a small glow now, on the other side, on another mountain. It sent out ash and dust into the air as it shook, the sounds heavy in her ears. She looked up into the sky but the sun was… Brighter? She could feel Solus' presence bu- A spear slammed into her shoulder and Solus came down from the heavens above with a fury in his voice.
Aveira did her best to evade but the giant was too large. His glowing fist smashed into the colorful war angel and his weight pushed her downwards with rocketing haste. Like the last flash of a shooting star, they burned across the sky before smashing deep into the countryside, leaving a crater behind. Solus smashed and beat the horned avatar into the dirt, seizing all opportunity to crush her with overwhelming force while he had the advantage. A divine beatdown that would leave even a deity gasping for air, each strike pounding a new dent into the crater. A strange shimmer made him pause, and that momentary pause gave him enough clarity to watch Aveira in the crater beneath him. Her image rippled and shimmered, and he understood the ruse. The horned avatar's image dissipated in his fingers, and at the same time a flash of prismatic light shone behind him. It struck him in the back with a violent burst, searing and piercing with unnatural force. An invigorated assault like the one in their first battle.
But unlike that first battle, this time within seconds the beam pierced his flesh. He did not scream but instead grunted as he was pushed forward, losing his balance as he fell further into the crater. Her assault did not relent as he struggled to turn over and Solus felt the beam rip apart his divine flesh more and more by the second. Dark energy rippled and raged over his form, the horned avatar descending from her hidden perch in the sky as her assault shredded him piece by piece.
Finally the attack relented, allowing Solus to complete his battered attempt to turn over and face his opponent. Aveira hovered in the sky not ten feet away from him, clearly convinced he no longer posed a threat to her. Her face was locked in a frown of haughty, arrogant fury - the true malice within Aveira carried openly. The giant coughed, something strangely mortal for a being so divine. Ichor and essence poured from his wounds, covering the ground in liquid light.
Aveira raised her hand slowly, and in her palm a metal barb began to form and elongate, like liquid slowly being stretched to take form. It warped and twisted until a long black blade manifested in her grip, and she twisted both hands around it firmly as she turned it down to point towards Solus in the air. "Today, the war is won. Everything else is just a rat hunt. Breathe your last, Son of the Sun; a good death is it's own reward."
“You…” He spoke in a whisper, broken. “You… Will be… Defeated… One day.” He coughed again as Aveira flew in close. Solus tilt his head back, looking to the sky. “Mother… Forgive me…”
Like a falling guillotine the winged avatar let herself fall freely towards the ground, piercing blade lifted with unerring aim towards one of the many wounds on Solus' body. Aveira's weapon impacted his ichor-flowing wound, and the immense weight of the divine creature fell upon the blade to push it deep into the giant's body. Her entire form twisted with a beat of her wings and the large blade twisted with her, turning and carving deep into the divine giant. With another powerful beat of her wings, the pressure on her weapon grew immensely and it sank deeper into Solus, stabbing into his body until her feet stomped down on him. With new ground beneath her, the horned avatar twisted the blade again, roaring with unabated desire to kill.
The giant gripped the sword in vain as his body began to shake violently. Great fissures began to spread out from the wound, like snakes glowing white hot. His luminous color grew blinding, as if the sun had come to Galbar, taking from the world all of its color and vibrancy, while replacing it with white. Then, when the light was all consuming, the avatar of the sun exploded with a flash and then a roar that shook Toraan.
Rock and boulder alike turned bright red for as far as a godly eye could see, then farther still, as heat swept the land. Eventually it became too much and even the stone began to melt into slag. Trees, grasses, flowers, and anything green burst alight with roaring fire and within the time it took to blink, they were but dust strewn about in the hateful wind as it whipped ever on, towards the mountains in the west. Lakes boiled, turning to steam as rivers clogged with sand and debris. That which walked on four legs and two legs and which swam with fins and flew with wings were not spared. There would be no savior, no great hand to block the vicious heat. Nor would any prayer reach the gods in time, save for those farthest away from the blast, at the foot of the mountains and to what lay in the east. There was no time and so they died. Whole villages like tinder for the storm of heat. Turned to sand and dust, their after images forever haunting their places of death and the moment it happened. Their only saving grace was that it was quick and painless.
The blastwave at last struck the mountains, sending debris and dust into the skies, like a blanket reaching for the heavens. The mountains held firm as they took the brunt of the heat and force, but down into the dunalands would come fearsome storms as the cooler air met its match. The land on the other side was changed. Scarred forevermore.
Aveira, bruised and battered by intense pressure, flame and debris, raised the blade where she stood in the center of the chaos, watching her creation. The weapon had been turned to slag and drawn on the pure essences of Solus, creating a new blade that shone with a seething heat and fury, dripping slag and molten metal as she whipped it in the air. Rather than be cooled by the air, it seemed to cook all it came close to, such was its inherent blazing heat. What remained was a weapon of pure death, the remnant essence of her foe lingering eternally. And he raged at her, at least what remained of him did. With furious appetite and dripping with the wrath of an oppressed sun.
All around her, Aveira bore witness to glassy plains and sandswept dunes. There was no sign of life, no sign of anything really. Just an angry storm that struck at the ground with lightning as its thunder boomed. But soon, she was not alone. For from the sands, they came. Thousands of creatures that resembled beetles made of white sands and glassy mandibles. They chittered as they approached, followed by humanoid creatures that resembled Solus. But they were far too small and made of dust and sand that swirled. Their very hands were made of glass and sharp. They sensed her, for what was divinity but not life overwhelming? And they were not afraid, as they began to attack her.
The avatar of the war goddess accepted the challenge with gleeful wrath of her own, a single beat of her wings bringing her into motion to battle these new creatures. Like an angel of death she descended with the molten blade to sweep and swing, bringing death in arcing scythes against these furious and reckless new creatures. She raged for an eternity, meeting the endless fury of the storms with a hunger for battle and violence that could never be sated. So intense was her malice that her divine hatred seeped into the energies and creatures she cut apart, and with each new creature that came at her, it seemed to be more and more enraged until nothing but burning, cold hatred remained.
And Aveira stayed in that blissful malice until the skies turned dark and it rained embers.
In the Heavens above, a Goddess screamed.
Aveira is wanting to cause some trouble but before she can, Solus attacks her. The two then fight and the heavens above the Dunalands become the sounds of thunder as the two butt heads. They eventually end up crashing into the western mountains in the Westfold and Aveira makes a volcano to try and stop Solus’ brutal assault. It doesn’t work and the giant avatar smashes Aveira over and over again until they break the mountains asunder and come out on the other side. Aveira ends up duping Solus and then cheap shots him in the back with a laser beam that pierces him. She keeps this up and doesn't allow Solus to recover. Read the post to find out what happens next for the very land is changed and the Highlands will never be the same again. Or just cheat and read the mp summary you losers.
Oraelia
5/5
-2MP the Glass Wastes. This biome was created when Solus was murdered at the hands of Aveira. Due to the heat of the avatar’s explosion and the divine energy that rapidly expanded, the surrounding lands were annihilated in the heat of the sun. Massive dunes of the finest white sands, long stretches of mirror seas and the remnants of those caught in the blast, forever standing vigil as glassy statues in the Glass Wastes. The weather here can be calm and eerie or violent and oppressive. Nothing grows here, for a place such as this was not meant to be. Drier than any desert, hotter than the fires of man, this place is not meant for the faint of heart. Due to the high pressures that were released here, exquisite diamonds can be found here, as well as other valuable gemstones. To those brave enough to scour the wastes, may find themselves rewarded.
-1MP (split cost) Glass Wraiths (3MP) - Echoes born from the anger and fury of a dying sun, these creatures are mindless and full of rage. Made of glass and sand, they do not sleep, they do not eat, they do not want for anything but violence. They attack anything that is not made of them, going so far as to lash out at the smallest of creatures if they sense them. As Glass Wraiths are attracted to living creatures like a moth to flame.
Wraiths come in a few types and sizes, to the small swarm like rippers, to more humanoid builds, varied in appearance but capable of the same. They are incredibly swift and agile, using overwhelming numbers and quick strikes to attack and overpower. Because of this, they do not have a lot of natural defense and as beings made of glass, they are easily breakable. One simply needs to be able to hit them with a heavy blow to shatter them.
They come about naturally as a byproduct of the storms and heat of the Glass Wastes.
-2MP for the ability, Life Sense. Glass Wraiths do not see by normal means, as they have no eyes. Instead, they can sense when a living creature is nearby by tracking their life force. When one Wraith senses a living creature, it is capable of signalling to others and a great frenzy gets underway. When nothing can be sensed, Glass Wraiths are rather docile and seem to wander without purpose.
-5DP (+2 Sunlight Titles) Requiem VII - This blade contains the wrathful spirit of an avatar. To wield it is to yield absolute power if one can dominate the sword. The heat emitted from this blade melts surfaces, cuts through anything leaving it molten slag or ash and slashes from the blade send arcs of solar energy that explode when coming into contact with surfaces. This blade cannot be wielded by lesser mortals, for it would destroy their very bodies in a torrent of flame. Only the strongest of heroes could even attempt to do so without sustaining bodily injury.
-1DP (Reduced to 0 by sunlight) Multiple uses of sunlight stuff.
Neiya start: 5/5
-2 mp - (split cost) Glass Wraiths (3MP) - Echoes born from the anger and fury of a dying sun, these creatures are mindless and full of rage. Made of glass and sand, they do not sleep, they do not eat, they do not want for anything but violence. They attack anything that is not made of them, going so far as to lash out at the smallest of creatures if they sense them. As Glass Wraiths are attracted to living creatures like a moth to flame.
Wraiths come in a few types and sizes, to the small swarm like rippers, to more humanoid builds, varied in appearance but capable of the same. They are incredibly swift and agile, using overwhelming numbers and quick strikes to attack and overpower. Because of this, they do not have a lot of natural defense and as beings made of glass, they are easily breakable. One simply needs to be able to hit them with a heavy blow to shatter them.
They come about naturally as a byproduct of the storms and heat of the Glass Wastes.
-1 DP - Made a weapon of war capable of hurting divine beings.
- 2 MP - Minor landscape change - Created a volcano on the Westfold Mountain range - in Solus face.
-1 MP - Shot lasers at Solus
-2 dp- Infused the Sand Wraiths with an Extraordinary Ability: Feral Fury - The Sand Wraiths are consumed with an endless reservoir of fury and wrath, and will keep attacking until they are dead. They do not understand fear.
She slogged through the mud, rain pelting her as she did. Her clothes were soaked and the cold chilled her to the bone but Iora did not care. Her eyes were ever present on the path ahead, occasionally glancing around into the dim forests for those that hunted her. She found the view to be mundane, nothing like the colors she grew up in but then again, perhaps the rain made everything muted. Regardless, she couldn’t see much of anything and continued on. It wouldn’t be long now and she wanted to get out of the rain.
A short while later, the road ahead became wider, more developed by time. The glow of lights could be seen in the distance as the night came. The village of Camden was more of a trading hub to the northern villages, bridging the gap between the Luminant and all else in these parts. She had stumbled upon a rumor as she fled from the Luminant, of a humani place where one could be free. Was it for humani? Neiyari? Oraeliari? She hadn’t cared at the time, she simply needed an out. If that foolish Saint had minded her own business, she might have still been alive and Iora could have continued on.
But that wasn’t how it went, now was it?
There wasn’t much to do in the Luminant anyways, ever since the Oraeliari won that battle, nothing had ever really been the same. The first born kept going on and on about retaking the lake but by what means? The Neiyari had been castrated by Oraeliara and each loss reduced their numbers further. That had been two years ago and only recently had she found out the curse had been lifted in the passing conversation of two spice traders. She had been fortunate enough to hear the War Mother’s voice before that, on her trek out of the Luminant.
That had been agony. To hear such a splendid, intoxicating voice. She thought about that voice, fantasized about that voice, wanted to be close to that voice, for many, many weeks. Those thoughts were dull now, for they had been replaced by another humani girl. That one had been fierce but her fight had died when she opened her up. A more recent idea of hers, seeing how things worked. It was her right to know these things and no one would stop her. Let those that hunted her come, for they would fail, just as those Oraeliari had.
She entered the village proper now and made her way through the wide streets with closing vendors. It had been different to see such humani shouting and hollering, wanting to do as they called ‘bartering’. Trading one good for another. Back in the Luminant, the Saints were in control, they decided who got what and how much of it. Here, they bartered for everything. It was well most knew the Neiyari language as well, for that would have made things difficult.
The humani here gave her looks, sour expressions. Neiyari were tolerated, not wanted but they also knew well enough to leave her be. Only a few Neiyari maintained a more permanent presence here, bartering their skills for places to stay. The traitors they were to the War Effort, Iora wasn’t going to complain. They still eyed her with suspicion but it was of little consequence. It was the Oraeliari in the town she needed to be careful of. How the other Neiyari put up with them, she did not know. These were ones who abandoned the notion of the war altogether but that did not make them incapable. She knew how the other Neiyari must have felt, being welcomed by them. They were the enemy and they needed to die. It was the most basic tenet of Neiyari culture and yet, no one lifted a blade or knocked an arrow. Partially because they separated each other to different parts of the town, hardly ever interacting. As much as she would have been fine seeing them dead, Iora needed to lay low.
She had a few Saints after her and of course, all those they commanded. Evidently, she had killed someone who meant a great deal to them. For it was enough to forgo the War Effort for her capture. She had lost them at the border of this land and the Luminant but she did not know if they would follow. There was another rumor, of a mysterious plague in the Luminant that was not sparing any of its sickness. So, if they did, it would not be long before one ventured to Camden and asked if she had been seen. She would have to keep moving but there were rumors here in this small town. Of places far and wide, placed one could go to if they searched for them. Far, far away from searching eyes. But she had a suspicion that the plague would stop their search, at least for now and in time, perhaps they would forget about her.
For now, as she entered the Neiyari section of the town and into the central commons, she was finally out of the rain and that was well enough for her. The large chamber was a mud brick building, maintained constantly. It was large enough for at least a dozen Neiyari to each of their own rooms.
Just like the Luminant, the Neiyari here gave her odd glances and occasional stares but made no moves to interact. She pushed on to a small, dingy room near the back and whipped the curtain open to reveal a bed and a single chair. Not the best accommodations but it would do. She stripped, ringing out her clothes into a bucket and putting them over the chair. The last thing she did was take off her satchel, which had been pressed tight to her body to avoid the rain. She peered in and found that her ‘goods’ were still quite dry. The few she had anyway, she'd have to get more to be able to barter a meal. She placed the satchel next to her bed, sighing to herself.
Her wings were still wet so she began to shake them dry, but ended up slapping her left one into the wall. She knew this room would annoy her to no end. She'd have to try and find a better place, no matter the cost.
Then, bare to the world, Iora went back to the common area and placed her clothes next to the fire to dry. She stood there for a bit, drying off her wings and hair. She held her head high as she did this, not caring for the stares and when she was done, she went back to her room. No one would take her clothes, they were much too small for any Neiyari to wear, anyways.
Iora got under her fur blanket, felt the uneven straw on her back and shut her eyes. Tomorrow would be another boring day. Keeping oneself alive was dull, after all. She fell asleep with a hungry belly not long after and she did not dream.
In the morning, with clothes dried and smelling of smoke, she ventured out into the sunlight forest with satchel in hand. She needed more if those pesky humani were going to trade. Sure she could just steal what she wanted, but she had to keep up appearances. Not make anyone suspicious of her. Luckily she had taught herself how to forage as a child, at least better than what was taught to them as a group. So far in her satchel there were several root tubes, fibers and mushrooms. Far more than she had found in the muck yesterday. There were the usual edible kinds, as well as more… Unsavory, kinds, which she kept for herself. It would be enough to get her some food at least, until she had to do it all over again.
As she grabbed the last of the mushrooms, the familiar sound of blades being unsheathed reached her ears, followed by muffled shouts and screeches. Was it the hunters come to find her? She listened further, no, this was something else. Something different. The white haired Neiyari was unable to contain her curiosity, and so she made her way into the denser parts of the continent-spanning forest.
The farther she went, the clearer the sounds. There were two voices shouting things at each other, one male and another female. One old and the other young. Blades cut through the air and flesh alike, the sound as clear as day.
”Hyaah!”
Now, the young girl’s voice came from so close that she could swear she was standing right where the girl should be, and yet-
”Ah!” A gasp and a hiss of pain rang out, and a clear golden liquid rained down onto Iora from above, hitting her cheek and hair ”You little-” The girl grunted and there was one more hiss, then another, and even more. The canopy of the tree straight above her held numerous shadows, one bigger than the rest and deftly balanced on a thin branch, while the others jumped from branch to branch with long arms.
One of the many shadows lunged at the shadow of the girl and Iora caught the glint of metal coming from her right hand. Next thing she knew, sunlight was crashing down on her through a sudden hole in the canopy. The light, blinding, prevented her from evading the deluge of blood that followed, and a creature cleanly sliced in half fell limp in front of Iora’s feet. It was a tiny monkey-like lizard, with scaly skin, strangely long and feathered arms and a disproportionate head with more jaws and teeth than anything else. That particular thing’s claws were coated in the golden liquid that had rained on Iora before, as well as bits of a green material.
”Huff… What, are all of you suddenly scared? Not so defenseless now, am I?” The girl laughed, her musical voice tainted with pain, and then suddenly all the shadows jumped at her at the same time, ”Oh n-” Was all she managed before the entire bundle of shadows came upon her and she started slashing wildly at them.
Instantly, more blood rained down onto the forest floor, but it wasn’t enough.
CRACK
Just like that, the branch supporting the girl’s weight broke, and down came all the shadows.
The girl landed on her back a few feet away from Iora, kicking up dirt as she fell and emitting a pitiful sound as all her breath was expelled from her lungs.
In her right hand she held a short bronze knife, its handle drenched in the clear golden liquid flowing from a gash in her upper arm. Her face, too, was covered in smaller gashes as were her left arm and legs. Iora recognized her as a Sylpheni almost immediately, her vibrant green skin and leaf hair, as well as her luminous eyes giving it away. And yet, this one was different…
As the girl desperately struggled to recover, Iora noticed the small lizard creatures stand up first and set their sights on the bleeding, stunned Sylpheni girl.
She would have watched further. Would have waited to see what the creatures would do to the Sylpheni, as was in her nature. Yet.. She could already feel it starting. The tingle at the back of her neck, how she stared at those eyes, bewitched. The way her voice had sounded, how made her feel and how she wanted her to keep speaking. How she needed her to keep speaking. Her hand clutched the fabric over her heart, a breath of hot air escaping her lips as they curled into a hungry smile. This one would be one of her more intense episodes and she hadn't had one of those since the Goddess spoke.
Could she let this girl die at the hands of some beasts?
No!
The knife the girl carried lifted into the air as she stared at it, and then in a flash it attacked the creatures, slicing them. Cutting off heads, arms and tails, spilling their blood onto the ground. They squealed, confidence abandoning them and their attack upon the girl as they were assaulted. Many began to flee but the dagger followed and Iora cut them down, embedding the last one into a tree, knife in its head. She marvelled at the carnage then turned back to the Sylpheni.
“Little flower.” She whispered, only to be met with a low groan coming from the girl, who had her eyes closed for a while before slowly sitting up and stretching her neck, then her arms and back. Finally, a minute later, she finally opened her eyes and looked at Iora’s face, who was hanging above her pressed close. The girl’s luminous golden eyes met with Iora’s.
”H-Hey… I don’t know how you managed to get my knife to move like that, but thanks for the help there... I’m pretty sure I was about to be eaten. I’m Genesis, but friends call me Gen. Who-” Genesis coughed a bit and winced, wrapping her mostly uninjured arm around her lower ribs. By now the freely flowing sap coming from her wounds had begun to crystallize, and the flow had slowed enough to not be a cause for worry. ”Who are you? What’s your name? I haven’t seen your kind before… Guess you must be more plentiful the further south one goes?”
Iora stood up straighter and moved to the side of this Genesis. She then tilted her head and the knife flew back over, letting the corpse of the creature fall with a thud which caused Genesis’ leaves to rustle erratically. The knife then became suspended in the air above the girl, unmoving, until she reached up to grab it. “Genesis.” She said, mulling the word. “My name is Iora, a Neiyari from the Luminant, which is south of here, yes. You are a Sylpheni? Curious.” Her voice was that of velvet and pleasing to the ears.
”Iora, Neiyari from the Luminant. South. Thank you.” She wheezed a little after each short sentence, ”Sylpheni is what you call my kind? In Dehrthaa they call us emkura, but we call ourselves Sylphi. Iora, could you look for the body of the Sia’Kinn I killed? I think it must have fallen somewhere around here, cut in half. I need to harvest it.” She requested, looking at Iora with tired eyes.
Iora looked around at all the corpses, thinking of the girl’s words. She frowned, as there were many which had been cut in half. “Many could be harvested. Why that one?” she asked.
”The Hunter says one should only harvest those that one hunts themselves. That’s it, really.” Genesis explained, but did manage to get enough energy to look around at the scene, eyebrows twitching once she saw the sheer mess. ”Uh… I guess finding it without a good sense of scent would be difficult, and mine is not really all there after that fall. The only other thing that could identify it is by finding pieces of my green skin under its claws. It did get me pretty good...”
Iora began to walk amongst the corpses. “Your knife did do this grim work, little Flower. But if you insist… I can do this for you.” She uttered in a neutral tone, followed by a nod from Genesis. Oh the things she did to get her thrill. She backtracked to where the first creature had fallen at her feet but found the area rather full of bodies. Hiding her frown, she sank to her knees and began to comb through them until she found one, cut in half and claws with green. She floated it beside her as she walked back to the girl and set it down at her feet. “As requested.”
”Thank you, Iora. Now I will harvest what I can from it. Maybe it’d be better if you looked away… Mammal types usually find themselves feeling intimidated or uh, worse? By just looking at it, so...” Genesis said, then shrugged and looked down at her knife. She wiped the blood that had drenched it before on her own skin, in whatever spot was clean enough to do the job well. Then, when satisfied with the glint of light on the blade, she held it with her teeth and placed the top half of the Sia’Kinn she had slain on her lap, drenching her legs in a mixture of blood and guts. Iora said nothing but watched intently, giving no sign it made her unwell.
Without missing a beat, Genesis went on to quickly harvest the Sia’Kinn’s organs and bones, first from the torso half and then from the lower half. By the end of the process she was almost entirely covered in blood and fluids, both hers and the Sia’Kinn’s, and had managed to put all sets of organs and bones into neat little piles next to her.
She sighed in relief, wiped the knife as best as she could against the grass and dirt, and then put it back in a leather sheath she had strapped to her thin waist.
The Sylphi girl took a few breaths and massaged her ribs until a small popping sound rang out. ”Ow...” Genesis grunted quietly, then shook her head and grabbed the strangest of the organs, an elongated sheet of smoot, spongy mass that she had harvested from the Sia’Kinn’s head and upper back --Its brain-- and dangled it above her head, making sure to angle her own face so that it was right above her open mouth. The reflection of light coming from her deceptively sharp teeth served to make her look more and more like a predator.
Slowly, she lowered the Sia’Kinn’s brain into her mouth, taking bites out of it and swallowing, not bothering much with chewing at all. It was small enough to be finished in just a few seconds, but that wasn’t it. Iora cocked her head to the side, eyes unwavering as she ate. Darker thoughts came to mind but her face remained neutral.
One by one, Genesis did the same with all the other organs but the intestines, eating them cleanly and without fuss. By the expression on her face she wasn’t particularly enjoying the taste, but she wasn’t recoiling either. When she was done with the organs, she went on to eat most of the flesh she had separated from the bones. It was at that point that Genesis let out a sound like a low hiss as her leaves started to shiver continuously. It was effortless how she devoured the flesh, a primal look of delight and desperation on her face, not unlike that of a half-starved wild dog.
And then, just like that, she was done.
Drenched in blood and with a full belly, Genesis covered her mouth and burped softly and looked at what had been left of her prey. Teeth, vertebrae, ribs, a cracked and therefore useless skull, and a handful of longer bones that she managed not to damage during her feeding frenzy.
Sighing contentedly, she looked around her to find Iora still standing there, watching, and so Genesis smiled awkwardly. ”Muscle flesh is pretty tasty. I can’t help but get really into it, you know?”
Iora nodded slow, her lips curling into a wolfish smile. She stepped closer to the girl and spoke, her rich voice growing softer. “Would you like to know what I can get really into? What I find…” Her hand reached out to wipe the blood from Genesis’ cheek, making the girl frown and her leaves rustle violently, “...Fascinating?”
”What, uhm… What is it?” Genesis asked, averting her gaze.
Iora moved her hand to the girl’s lips and placed it there, moving her head with her burning gaze eye level with the girl, who couldn’t help but look back. Iora did not speak, letting the air become palpable, full of anticipation. Then she patted Genesis’ lips with her finger and smiled, revealing pearly teeth. “My own prey.”
Genesis nearly choked, a hand reaching for her knife. By now, even the tattered and damaged leaves that made up her dress had begun to shake and shiver.
When the tension was so thick that one could taste it, the sound of two light footsteps alerted Iora to the presence of another. She stood straighter, dropping her hand from Genesis’ face and peered behind her. It was a tall Sylpheni. Almost as tall as Iora herself, wearing leathers with various plates of bone and thick ribs sown into the material in vital areas. The exotic armour, while masterfully crafted and professionally maintained, clearly showed signs of age and tear, much like the Sylpheni himself with his rough looking skin and yellowing leaves. He was completely unhurt, the only signs of battle on him being splatterings of blood over his clothes and armour and the blood dripping from his right hand and the ornamental bronze knife he held in it.
There was something… Odd, about the knife. A certain energy to it, coming from the inscriptions and shapes that had been skillfully imprinted into it no doubt decades ago.
Perhaps more impressively was the massive weapon folded away on his back, made of an incredibly big plate of sharpened bone, with a bronze metal handle reinforcing it. It looked at least as heavy as a sun forged greatsword and yet he moved effortlessly, as if it wasn’t even there. The Sylpheni regarded Iora with icy blue eyes, not as luminous as Genesis’ but orders of magnitude more intense and weathered.
He said something in a language Iora couldn’t understand, and Genesis nodded back at him, crawling away from Iora and getting up on her feet with a grunt.
“For you, no prey here. Saving Genesis, I thank. Now you leave her with me.” the Sylphi male explained in a broken Neiyari tongue, sneaking his way into one of the pouches on his thick belt without ever taking his eyes off of Iora and Genesis.
Iora scowled, eyes narrowing to slits. She would not let this one come between her and her prey. Who did he think he was? A low growl escaped her throat and she spoke, her soft voice replaced by cold clarity. “She’s mine.” Her eyes then fell upon Genesis as she retreated out of reach. Well, she had other ways to get what she wanted, didn’t she? She focused and with all her strength, she reached out to Genesis, felt her, and then prevented her moving forward, before lifting her to her feet and trying to pull her back.
And yet, Genesis resisted. Even midair, she seemed to have control of her movements. Iora’s eyes went wide at her resistance and she began to grow frustrated as she tried in vain to pull her back.
With the sudden opening, the Hunter closed the distance between him and Iora with an unnatural speed considering his baggage and pulled out what he had been playing with inside his pouch, a rotting, fragrant herb, and before she could react, slapped it all over her chest and belly, staining her shirt, his leaves rustling as he did so with his momentum letting him slide between Iora’s legs. Then with a graceful movement he jumped up into the canopies of the trees. It was almost like he was weightless, Iora realized, as he disappeared into the thick foliage.
Again, he shouted something in the unknown tongue, and Genesis redoubled her efforts to keep out of Iora’s reach. The hold on her broke as Iora went to rip her shirt off and throw it on the ground, not trusting whatever the foul smelling thing was on it. In the moment her hold was broken, Genesis flew into the canopies and disappeared from sight.
In the distance a loud screech echoed throughout the forest, followed by the sound of numerous pairs of powerful wings lifting off. She looked at the shirt again and then destroyed it with a burst of her balefire. With her own wings, she lifted off into the air, beating them to stay in place, just above the trees. Her eyes frantically scanned them, looking for her quarry. But instead of the girl, what she found were several strange, scaled creatures with webbed wings and feathers on their heads, all flying in the sky, searching and searching.
They searched, of course, until their eyes caught sight of Iora.
One screech turned to many, and soon five of the hut-sized monsters were flying straight for her. But then her attention found itself split once more as in the distance, she saw the trail of rustling leaves that must have been the pair of escaping Sylpheni. She had a choice to make.
It was an easy choice. The thorns on her hands glimmered, growing black, pulsing with pain. A wild look caught in her eye as she let them get close. Then, Iora raised her hands and from them erupted the destructive power of her fire. It caught the first two by surprise, turning one’s head to ash and catching the other in the chest, where a hole was burned through it. Their corpses had only just begun to fall as the others broke from their formation. Iora clipped one’s wings but before she could trail the other two, the pain grew too much to bear and she had to stop. The two surviving creatures shot towards her with speed that rivalled any Neiyari.
She dove down, into the trees and took the knife from her belt. Sunforged and full of fury, she flipped herself and eyed the snarling creature behind her. The knife whipped from her hand and at it. The strategy, try as she might, did not work as she intended. Dodging trees and trying to stab a creature while flying was no easy task, and the knife returned to her.
As one neared her, breaking limbs in its pursuit, it got close enough to bite at her and Iora unleashed another trick. She cast balefire upon its face and the effect was immediate and the oversized lizard crashed against a tree, screaming as it’s face melted. The final creature, shot up into the sky, letting Iora have a moment to catch her breath. Once again she sought the girl and the source of the rustling leaves but was disappointed when she saw nothing.
Then the creature broke through the canopy right in front of her, lunging with it’s mighty jaws. Her own wings pushed her back out of it’s way but only narrowly and she unleashed another beam, turning the creature and the trees behind it to naught but ash, with a furious cry.
Where was she? Where did she go! She gripped her head, breathing going heavy. It wasn’t fair! She couldn’t lose her, not like the others. She was so close. She could- She could- Iora let out an angry scream, pulling at her hair. She would find her! She had to!
She flew back to the clearing and searched for the key. It did not take her long to find the golden blood, dried- wait! She touched her cheek, feeling something dry. She then licked her finger and rubbed it, then sniffed. A floral scent. Then Iora tasted it. It was sweet, the taste was undeniably so. But how could this help her? How?
What way did they go? Could she… Could she follow the scent? No- What was she? Some kind of animal?
No… She would have to be clever, and use all her skills. Tracking them down… She had to.
Her head snapped to the sound of voices. Was it them coming back to her? No… There were too many of them and shouts… Shouts of… Oh no… It was the hunters.
She flew off into the trees where Genesis had disappeared into. Knowing no matter how long it took, she would find her again. Even if her infatuation with her broke. She could not allow this… This humiliation. This disgrace. She was mighty. She was strong and she would kill them.
And she would enjoy it.
Iora is on the run for murdering a Neiyari saint. She finds a the human village of Camden, a trading hub with both Aiviri there living in peace. Life is a little rough for her, but she carries on, foraging to trade some mushrooms for bread. Before she does that she stumbles upon Genesis killing some critters that are attacking her. She ends up falling for her and helps her kill the critters. After a really weird display of Gen eating raw meat, Iora makes her move but the Hunter shows up and blocks her, much to her annoyance. She then tries to keep Genesis to herself but fails and the Hunter attacks, springing a trap on her in the form of winged Dircaans. She ends up killing them all but loses Genesis and then her own hunters are hot on her trail. She vows to hunt them down, no matter how long it takes.
She could not see the world but she could feel it. With every body racking contraction, every demand to push, every scream before a deep breath. The soft sheets on the hard bed, nails dug in as she clutched it for dear life with clammy hands. Brown wings pressed flat behind her. Strands of her long black hair were stuck to her sweat covered body and that impassive face of hers, with a ribbon of black covering her eyes, was distorted in pain. She screamed again as the pain in her loins threatened to never end. Her body wanted to push but it hurt so much she held it in with all her might.
"You must push Tulara. The baby will not come if you don't embrace the pain." Came the voice of Giara, a field matron, ones who helped with birth and remedy. Tulara wanted to protest but all that came out of her mouth was a growl.
Someone placed a cool cloth upon her forehead and dabbed at her sweat. "Tsk tsk Tulara. I thought you stronger then this. Will you let a little pain defeat you? You've dealt with worse, after all." Said the silky smooth voice of Fara in her ear. She despised that woman, she was nothing but a nuisance since Tulara had arrived. Always chattering about strength and the wa-
She let out another scream as the worse contraction yet hit her and she almost blacked out as her body pushed. She then felt two things, the pain beginning to taper away and a weight lifted off her shoulders. This relief was cut short when she heard Giara begin to speak.
"Bring me a towel Fara."
Tulara felt the damp cloth still and a wing beat as cool air washed over her. A moment of silence later and Fara cooed, "A girl child for the war effort."
Tulara did not hear the child scream. A dark thought leaped to the forefront of her mind and she began to speak with an anxiousness to her voice. Dreaded hope leaching through. "She does not cry? Is she still stillborn?"
"Oh you've made Giara frown Tulara. Not good, not good." Fara chided, she could almost see the grin on her face.
"She stares, Tulara." Giara began, "With pale yellow eyes, akin to a weathered sunflower. Curious eyes, in the War Mother's visage." She paused. "This one breathes with quiet contemplation, unlike her mother who yearns for what is not, louder then she. You would do well to take note from her silence."
Tulara frowned as her face became one of disappointment. Her hope for a quiet way out dashed before her. She felt no shame with those thoughts of her, much to the ire of Giara. Even without her sight she could feel the woman's scornful gaze.
"Let's see…" Fara said, "Oh my, looking at her now, what a small baby, Tulara. Hmm. Grey wings, an odd color. Almost saint-like. Her skin is very pale, paler then you Tulara and almost sickly in nature. Her hair is stark white but that color might change with age. Her body has no blemishes and… Her grip is weak. And here I thought the children of Aveira's guard would be strong."
"I don't want her." Tulara snapped, lips turning into a scowl as her anger boiled. "She was forced upon me without my choice. I will raise no weakling as my own." She huffed, crossing her arms.
"We've been over this Tulara." Giara's icy voice bit into her. "A child forced upon you is still yours. We have too many orphans as it stands and we are running out of the means to feed them. You are this child's mother and you will raise her as your own. For the war effort and for the War Mother. If she did not want you to have this child, you would not have had her."
Tulara exhaled a breath through her nose, conflicting emotions welling up inside her. A small voice broke the uncomfortable silence with a cry that grew louder as she found her lungs. Her greatest shame, brought to life. The cry grew louder as she was brought close and placed upon her chest. With great hesitance, she wrapped her arms around the bundle and felt soft flesh touch her own. She was so light.
"The child needs a mother." Giara said at last. "Even if you resent her, she will be raised for the war. This is the duty of all mothers."
As something wet began to roll down Tulara's cheeks, she cradled her baby, rocking her to quiet. She could feel the baby relax as she used her free hand to feel her face and paint a picture in her head of what she looked like.
"Here, let me wipe the blood." Fara said in a quiet voice and the exhausted woman did not protest when she dabbed at her cheeks.
"Soon enough your eyes will heal, Tulara and this life of yours will not look so bleak. Perhaps you will even find purpose again. Until then, you will take care of yourself and the child." Giara commanded, as Tulara felt her begin to clean her disgusting body.
"What shall you name the child?" Fara asked.
"Her name will be Iora." Tulara said in a hoarse voice.
"Iora? Doesn't that mean-"
"A name, Fara." Giara cut her off. "Iora she shall be."
15 AA, Luminant
The white haired girl took the hit. She felt pain in her cheek blossom and tasted blood. Around her a crowd of children shouted and egged them on as she steadied herself and stared daggers at her opponent. Magdri, a brute of a boy, smirking with glee. The kind of face only an Oraeliari could love, or so she had heard. He stood two heads taller then her and his reach was fearsome but Iora had everything to prove and nothing to lose.
She charged with a war cry, dodged his fist as it came at her and landed a hit on his chin. Pain shot down her arm and Magdri laughed as he punched her in the gut as a follow up. With the wind knocked out of her, Iora crumpled to the dirt, clutching her stomach as she gasped for breath.
"If that's the best you got, then you really are a weakling." Magdri spat, walking around her. The others had grown quiet. "What a freak. Try something like that again and you’ll be sorry! Come on, let’s get out of here before Syri shows up." She heard a flurry of wing beats and looked up to see them flying off. Iora then stood up, her face relaxing as she watched them disappear through the trees.
She dusted herself off, then went on her way. She got a thrill out of that, the look on Magdri’s face when she had tried to knee him in his groin. If he wasn’t such a troll, she would have pummeled his face in with- Ah there it was. She picked up a yellow cloth. It had been full of stones but now they were scattered about. She would have to lead with that next time.
Iora’s feet brought her back to the small ransack village where her mother’s tent was. The village had no name, for she had been told a name was not needed for a temporary place. That had been a year ago. Much of the Neiyari here were wounded from the war, recovering as they could. Every wound was different, some physical and others like her mother. She avoided the scrutinizing gazes of the adults until she made it home, one of the few remaining tents on the ground level, out of the way really. She opened the flap and went inside the dim interior and musty smell. Like something needed to be washed.
Her mother was there, sleeping as she often did, back turned to the light of the Luminant. Iora made sure to be quiet as she walked to her side of the tent and rummaged through her rucksack for what she was looking for. She retrieved the small bladder of the War Mother’s tears and took a sip. At once, cool relief washed over her body and that which ailed her became less. She touched her bruised face and found it no longer so sensitive. She took another drink and then marveled at the bladder. Taught to them by a Saint, she knew not how it worked only that it held water and came from an animal. An animal which escaped her still.
“Iora.” Came the cold voice of her mother.
She straightened her back and turned to see that her mother was sitting up, running a hand through her disheveled hair as she stared at her with a gaunt face and dark rings around her eyes. With an all too familiar look on her face, disappointment. One she had grown so used to, it no longer bothered her but to play along, Iora shrunk herself in that presence. “Yes, mother?”
“Where is it?” she asked.
Iora tilted her head in confusion. “Where is what, mother?”
“Don’t give me that, girl. You know what I’m talking about.” she said, anger flooding into her voice. She got to her feet and in two bounds was above Iora, strong hands gripping her by her arms and lifting her to her feet. Iora’s eyes went wide as her mother dragged and pressed her against the wooden support beam in the middle of the room. The tent shivered and she snarled. “You bring shame on me again! Always sneaking about, starting fights that you can’t win and now, stealing? Do you think me a fool, Iora!”
The slap came across the same cheek Magdri had punched not so long ago. It stung and her eyes watered. “Now you tell me. Right Now. Where. Is. The. Dagger?”
“I-I-I don’t know!” She yelled. Another slap, this time the other cheek.
“Stop lying Iora! The smiths keep close watch on their forges. They know to who, and what they give for the war effort. Now they say a dagger has gone missing and I was blamed. They said, ‘It must be that daughter of yours’ and ‘Why can’t she act normal? Why is she so weak.’ Do you have any idea how much shame this brings ME!” Her mother’s grip tightened.
Iora began to cry. “I-I d-didn’t s-steal a d-dagger, m-momma p-please.” She pleaded.
“If you didn’t steal it, then who Iora? Who!” She pressed her harder into the pole.
“I-I don’t know!” She cried loudly.
Her mother growled, acting as if she would strike her again but instead she released her. “Go. Get out of my sight.” She said, voice no longer angry but hollow. Like she had just given up. She went back to the bed and sat down. Iora did not wait to see what she would do next, as the girl was up on her feet and out the flap, running away from the village in haste.
When she was far out of sight and into the trees, the girl stopped for a breather, rubbing her cheeks and wiping the tears from her eyes. She frowned, realizing she left the healing water back in her sack. Her frown turned into a look of anger and she stomped off in the direction of the hollow.
She passed through the trees and found herself in the clearing she had found earlier in the year. A large hollow tree sat in the middle of a clearing. Blackened to bits, it was different then all the other trees because it was dead. She went past it and looked for the animal trail she had taken great interest in. It had taken her several days but she had finally learned how to make a snare. Such skills were taught to them in hopes and now Iora knew why.
When it came in sight, her heart began to beat fast. There, struggling to break free was a lossum with banded fur and glowing spots. When it saw her it began to cower, pulling at its caught leg in hope of freedom. A rare smile formed on her lips and she rushed back to the tree.
Within the hollow she retrieved a cloth bundle with her hand and uncovered it to grab the dagger. Its blade glowed softly, before it became brighter as it took in the light. Her mother had been right, she did steal it but there was no way she would tell the truth. She would have gotten beaten and she didn’t like getting beaten.
Iora went back to the lossum. She knew from stories that no animals, maybe except the bigger ones and the humani, attacked. Such creatures were scared of them and only wanted to flee. So, Iora got close, the animal going frantic and she got down onto her knees. With her free hand she grabbed the snare and began to pull the possum towards her. It screeched then fell to its side and stopped moving. Iora had heard of animals playing dead but had never seen it. Not wanting the opportunity to go to waste, she grabbed a rock and smashed it against the lossum’s back legs. The creature shot up and screeched again.
Iora was fascinated. It was the first time she had done something like that and it felt… Good. Watching it struggle, watching it try to get away. Her heart beat fast and a strange sensation overcame her before she moved closer with the knife.
It whimpered and she smiled.
22 AA, Luminant
He stood a few heads taller than her, gripping her arms and pinning them to her body as she was pushed up against a tree. Iora looked up at him with fixated obsession, studying every small detail of his face and those lips that had laughed and caught her attention. His name was Bolvari, just a few years older then she and he had a reputation for getting what he wanted.
In this case, it was her.
Iora had grown into a plain looking teen, much too skinny, much too short for her age, as she was so often reminded. Her hair was still stark white, not helping but add to the oddity she was. Still, it was no wonder why she found herself pinned by Bolvari now.
She had let him, this was not a surprise. She had given him fleeting looks, wanting to be close every moment she could get. The others scorned her, called her names. Even he did, at first, giving into that pressure of the group mentality. He probably still thought her a freak, an outcast, something to be an object of cruelty towards. Yet, here he was, staring at her with such bold desire. Such wanton need. It gave her such a thrill. Men were like that, once she was seen as an easy target, he could not resist. Still, it was telling that they were out in the middle of nowhere, away from scrutinizing eyes.
Oh how the wind ruffled his long brown hair and how he leaned in closer towards her lips. She closed her eyes, letting the object of her fascination reward her at last. Yet when those lips touched hers, she found the thrill dying, replaced with disgust. Such lips and such breath as he tried to pry apart and stick his tongue in. Iora pushed him off, her strength waning.
He looked at her with anger and the burning desire of being in power. She looked and found it did nothing for her anymore. He was boring, like all the others had become. Yet it lingered like a sour aftertaste, this desire she had for him. Well, there was one way to rid herself of it.
“You dare? After tempting me these last few weeks, you dare push me off?” He demanded, wiping his lips.
Iora shrugged. “I found the taste quite repulsive. Do you kiss up to the Saint’s with that mouth of yours?” She narrowed her eyes.
She could see it dawn on him, the intent of her jab. As expected, he did not take it well. In two powerful bounds he was back up to her and backhanded her in the face. The slap made her tingle and her ears ring. She tasted blood and stronger hands gripping her, turning her around. Her head hit the tree and she felt his hands upon her waist. She glanced behind to see his face twisted with ill thoughts. Something flew towards them.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you, freak? Well… I’ll show yo-” His voice cut out, replaced with a gurgle. The pressure keeping her in place relented as his body fell backwards into the ground. Iora turned around fully to see him grabbing his throat, blood spewing from the deep gash as he lashed about in vain. His eyes were full of panic, the kind she derived the thrill from. He looked up at her with hate and fear. An odd look on any Neiyari. A twisted smile formed on her lips, he looked horrified.
She watched as he became still, the life fading from his eyes.
The obsession she felt for him was gone with his final breath.
She found the dagger nearby and with but a thought it lifted into the air and flew to her. She wiped the blood off on his robe and pulled herself away. She outstretched her hand and felt the power within manifest into a green flame at her fingertips. The first time she had summoned the flame had been in a moment of anger but as time went on she had learned to control it.
She flung the ball at his corpse and it lapped at his flesh, like a hungry wolf to a fresh kill. The sweet smell of death began to permeate the air and Iora retreated into the woods. The flame would do its job, leaving nothing but ash behind.
People went missing all the time in these parts, and her mother liked to move around the Luminant now. It provided ample opportunities. She found herself a bit disappointed. She would have liked to savor it a bit more but men were so, straight to the point with their intentions.
Maybe next time, she would fall for a girl.
28 AA, Luminant
She had only seen the Heart Pierce Spire once in her life, when she was a young girl. Now she worked in its shadow, carrying healing water to those wounded Neiyari who were being brought back from the battlefront. A battlefront she did not get to see. Many of the enslaved humani did the same. It was lowly work but such was her fate in life. She couldn’t wield a sword, shoot a bow, heft a spear- It wore her out too quickly. When that had been found out, she wasn’t even trained to use them. In fact, she was belittled for it, much to the chagrin of her mother. The same one who was up fighting on the front line, having finally found herself again after years of denial. Pitiful really.
It didn’t bother her, in the end. For she had learned that true power was not only through physical prowess but by more, subtler means. Or, she supposed, by being able to command flesh eating fire at her fingertips and the ability to move objects with her mind. Better to have them all believe what they wanted to believe about her. It made things… Easier. Besides, they were all beneath her. She was superior, blessed by the War Mother herself.
Iora gave water to a Neiyari man without an arm. He groaned like a weakling and lapped greedily. The water would stop the bleeding but would not bring back his arm, only time would allow that. She found her eyes wandering, trying to get a look at- Ah, there she was.
The humani girl who had caught her attention by yelling at a slave master. She got a whipping at that and now her right eye was covered in a cloth. As well as her arms and a leg. Her dirty blonde hair, so reminiscent of an Oraeliari, was long and unkept. She was almost as tall as Iora, and that wasn’t saying much as Iora was still several heads shorter than most Neiyari. If it wasn’t for her wings and hair, she could have probably passed for a human. She was captivated by the humani girl. She was really the only reason Iora was even handing out water.
It was difficult to try and get a woman’s attention if they had their hearts set on a man but Iora did not let this stop her from trying. To be close was to feel the thrill and the strength. Even if it was for a little bit, just until she grew bored and… Well, no one would miss a humani slave.
After moving to several more wounded Neiyari, Iora was close enough to the girl that she ‘accidently’ bumped into her. The humani girl fell, dropping her water flasks. She growled at first then seemed to realize her position and began to apologize. Iora reached out a hand.
“Oh clumsy me, I’m sorry.” She said in a soft voice, an inviting smile on her lips. It was difficult to fake a genuine reaction because Neiyari barely had the concept, but there was a flicker of recognition in the girls eyes. She did not take Iora’s hand but stood up on her own, retrieved her flasks and walked past her in a hurry.
Iora watched her go. It took time to feed the desire of being wanted. To have a shoulder to cry on. At least, that’s what she thought humani liked anyways. They, along with the Oraeliari, were suckers for that kind of interaction. Besides, she had only ever been infatuated with one other humani but he ran away. She did however learn an important lesson after those weeks of agony. For one day, she woke up and the obsession was gone.
As long as she didn’t let this one escape, she had a real chance to test her skills.
A flash of light, brighter than all of the Luminant caught Iora’s attention, stopping her in her tracks. It lingered in the air where the battle was being waged and she found her curiosity getting the best of her. She dropped the flask and began to fly to the front. Was this what all the rumors were about? The master plan by the saints to boost morale and deal a blow to the enemy? They had said Aveira had returned but Iora was skeptical of that one… Mother had always said she had been a fool, left her to her fate at the hands of Malri. Her father.
Iora didn’t care one way or another, she was indifferent to her mother’s constant bickering.
As she drew closer to the source it abruptly vanished and before long, she found herself in the midst of a retreating Neiyari host. She saw their faces, scared and abysmal but Iora pressed on to the lake. She flew through the last of the trees, to witness the battlefield, now empty save for the last few Neiyari stragglers and… She had never seen the Oraeliari so close. There were many now, wandering dazed and confused, others clutching their hearts upon their knees. Across the water, a great host of Oraeliari flew about, some coming closer. She could almost hear their cheers.
So the day was lost, what a pity.
She turned to leave-
“I-Iora? Is that you?” It was her mother’s voice but not… She turned to see a golden haired woman approach her. She tilted her head. It was her mother’s face, with white wings and such emotion. Tears, pooling in her eyes.
“Why are you here Iora?” She quickly shook her head and smiled as her tears began to stream down her face. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, I was going to find you. My little girl.” She stepped towards her but Iora stepped back. This seemed to jolt her mother and she paused. “Listen, Iora. I-I’m sorry. For everything. For how I treated you, for how I... “ She couldn’t bear to say it, it seemed. “I love you, Iora. I always have. Please, come with me, we can… We can start over.”
“You love me?” Iora said. “How convenient for you, mother. After hitting me, abusing me, belittling me, after I brought you so much shame for all these years… The minute you turn weak you say you love me? That we can start over? I shouldn’t be surprised. What, did you expect me to just forget what you’ve done?”
“I don’t expect you to forget or forgive me, Iora but I would like to try to bridge the gap I created. It is my fault, and I am sorry. The cruelty of the Neiyari is like an infectious disease. It makes you numb to the world and those around you. Please, Iora come with me. Let’s start over, away from the war. From all of this.” She was begging now.
Iora shrugged. “I’d rather not. You are the enemy now, Mother. You always were.”
“Iora! Please!” she cried taking a step forward.
“You always did think me weak, mother. Can I tell you a secret?” She lifted a discarded sword from the ground, one that was behind her mother. “I never was.” The blade pierced her mother from behind and the woman stumbled forward, eyes wide. She fell to her knees and Iora walked closer, lifting another blade at her side. “You see, I was always much stronger than you. You made me keep secrets. Just think, you could have become a Saint if you knew your daughter was so powerful. But you thought me weak. You hated me.” The blade grew closer and began to enter her mother’s chest with slow agony. To her credit, Tulara did not scream. “But don’t worry mother, I forgive you.”
She stood above her now, for once in her life standing taller. Blood began to flow from her mouth and her breathing became ragged but she did not look away from Iora. “I-I’m… So… S-” Her words failed her, as another blade severed her neck from her shoulders. Iora watched her head fall and her body slump, feeling not a thing but an itch to see the humani girl.
Before she could even leave, an arrow thwacked a shield right next to her and she looked up to see four Oraeliari fighters coming at her and one lingering above with a bow. Had they seen her kill… Probably. They landed, looking gruff, swords and shields raised to the offense. She looked past their weapons to view their faces. She had always been told the enemy were weak, frightened creatures that followed a false deity. These ones looked bolstered, strong and anything but weak. She looked to the corpse of her mother, she had been weak. “Are they sending children now, to fight in their stead?” One asked, not her but the others.
“Quiet, Handari. Don’t jump to conclusions.” Said the one in the middle. “Are you hurt?” He asked her.
She stared, growing annoyed. “Do I look hurt?” she retorted.
“I told you, Olgari, even their children are cruel.” Handari said.
“Fly back up to Imra and that’s an order, Handari. Radinri and I will handle this.” Olgari said in a commanding voice. The man took one last look at her and flew up to the woman. “Did you kill her?” he asked, looking at her mother.
“Yes. She was weak.” She stated matter of factly. “She always had been, but grovelling before me, saying she loved me? Asking for forgiveness? I don’t normally feel disgusted when a bug crawls on me but I did then. Such a strange feeling.” She watched as their faces became unnerved, a slight thrill building in her chest. It was fun to toy with prey.
The larger man sighed and shook his head. “Tevuri will have to fix this one as well, Olgari.”
“Perhaps. Say, would you come with us without a fight?” Olgari asked.
She shook her head. “There is a humani girl, waiting for me at the Spire. She doesn’t know it yet, but I plan to enjoy her presence before I kill her. Slowly. Perhaps I will use a knife.” The larger man’s face grew pointed and he charged her in an instant. Good. This Olgari shouted but before he could do anything, a blade had flung into his chest and he dropped before her feet. The blade still hung in the air, coated with blood. Olgari froze and up above someone screamed.
She felt a pinprick, and then an explosion of pain in her left shoulder. The blade dropped and she looked to see an arrow shaft protruding from her skin. That wasn’t good. A flutter of wing beats jostled her awareness and she flung herself out of the way before a mace landed where she had been. The one known as Handari fell before her to reclaim the mace. Green fire sprang from her fingertips, catching him unaware as he ran at her. As it touched his chest and neck, he screamed a wonderful sound. He dropped to the floor and he summoned more, throwing it on his back and wings.
She smiled, and another arrow whizzed past her. She looked up at the sky and another blade shot off towards this Imra. Like two birds courting, they dogged and weaved in front of each other, the sword turning on a dime each time. So focused on that, she was again caught unaware as something large hit her from behind and she sprawled forward. In a daze she lifted herself to see the one known as Olgari briefly checking on his dying friend before his gaze fell upon her. A sword lifted off the ground to meet him but he batted it aside and another arrow pierced her leg, pinning it to the ground. She grunted, her annoyance turning to anger.
She scowled as the woman landed beside Olgari, arrow knocked and aimed at her. Was she going to die? No wait, she couldn’t die! She had to get back to the humani girl. Her breathing became erratic as her goal seemed to be squashed before her. They would dodge the fire, wouldn’t they? And her swords? Then what! THEN WHAT COULD SHE DO TO GET BACK?
Her answer came in the form of power. She lifted her arm and they ran at her but Iora let them come, noticing the vines growing on her pale arms. Like skin patterns that some Neiyari had begun to adopt. Her hands began to grow green, Imra took to the sky and loosed an arrow as Olgari threw his spear. From her hand came an eruption unlike any she had seen. A beam of pure, destructive flame. The spear and arrow broke apart and she was hit with splinters but the Oraeliari fared much worse. The beam caught Olgari full mass, and it consumed him, eating away at his skin, flesh, to bone and then ash before it clipped Imra’s right side. The left half of her body became skeletal and she dropped dead as the flame consumed the rest.
The beam stopped, having blackened a small area of the forest behind her as pain shot up both her arms. Her hands shook but she admired the tattoos, fighting through the pain. For pain was familiar to her. It had been there when all others had not been. Her oldest friend.
A laugh escaped her lips. It looked like she would get to see the humani girl again.
Tulara is the one Neiyari that survived Malri’s massacre and ended being teleported back to the Luminant for nefarious reasons. She ends up giving birth to a child that she doesn’t want but is told to keep her for the War Effort. We then shift POV to the girl, Iora, and her struggles with life and growing up Neiyari. Spoiler, her mum basically resents her and Iora is like the kid everyone hates growing up and is ridiculed for her shortness and white hair. She’s aggressive, steals and lies and this results in her abusing animals in return. We skip ahead to when she is a teenager, her powers have begun to manifest and she uses them to get a ‘thrill’. She ends up getting bored of a dude then murders him without a hint of remorse at the ripe old age of 15. We then skip further ahead to the fateful day when the War in the Luminant changed. She is at the Spire, dishing out healing water to wounded Neiyari, under a false pretense to get closer to a humani slave who she finds fascinating. Then the sky explodes in light and her curiosity gets the best of her, so she flies to the front to see the Neiyari host fleeing from the battle. When she gets there she meets her mom, who came under the effects of Rhiona’s compassion curse and turned into an Oraeliari. She is lovely dovey to Iora and the girl murders her. This attracts the attention of four Oraeliari and a fight ensues after she goads them. After taking a couple arrows herself, iora mops the floor with them and is excited to return to the humani girl now that she lived.
Neiya start 2/3 -1DP Tainted Love I: (This hero is prone to randomly become fascinated by a person who performs some significant action near her - a laugh, words, acrobatics - the fixation is malleable and random. When the hero is so fixated, she cannot remove the person from her thoughts until they have been apart for several weeks. While together with her fixated target, the hero is stronger than usual.)
End 2/2
Thaa Start 5 MP 5 DP -2DP Bale Flame II: This hero can summon Bale Fire in a short distance from themselves in a spout or blast. The flames do not burn or spread like a normal fire and are not put out by water or sand like one might with a normal fire. Instead the fire causes rapid necrosis in cells of living material near the flame, and can typically spread across the living body of any creature hit by it. Larger creatures usually can survive initial impact if it hits a non-vital area although having any large portion of ones body be so subsumed is incredibly difficult and may require amputation or extensive healing or regeneration to survive. This effect does not protect the user from the effects of flame. End 5 MP 3 DP
Yamat MP start-5mp/5dp -2MP Telekinesis II - This hero is able to move objects with their mind. This is not through magic, but a divine imposition on reality. Smaller and lighter objects can be moved with relative ease and speed if the need arises. Heavy or large objects are typically difficult to move, and an extremely tedious and tiring procedure. Multiple objects can be moved but only the smallest ones, for it is easier to focus on one object at a time. The strength of the telekinesis is enough to push over a fully grown Aiviri, if they only had clothes on. This strength can be easily resisted if one holds onto something or a magical barrier is present.
DP-Desolation The Second Herald IV-4dp plus 2 free titles This hero has been gifted the heraldry of Desolation itself. Tattooed upon their arms is the image of thorny vines that wrap all around, starting at their elbows and ending at their wrists. This hero can summon forth the power of desolation contained within the tattoos, allowing them to increase the power of their balefire control and concentrate it into a singular beam. This death ray includes the balefire’s ability to reduce living beings to ash but also includes the ability to reduce non-living objects to ash as well, it is slower than when used on mortals, but can still seriously cut into rock and destroy trees. When using this power however, the tattoos on the skin burn as if a searing fire was there, while causing no permanent damage the pain is incredible and only increases as it is used. End Mp-3mp/1dp
Down in the Gardens, a wind blew warm across the land, bringing with it the tides of change. Oraelia knew the suffering that went on here and thus she created from the land, a large cathedral hewn from the rock. It stood tall, supported by tall trees and flowing gardens. It would be a place of healing and warmth, where those who sought to be comforted from horrors could go to find peace. Oraelia knew that the machinations of her peers were ever moving and thus, she made another change to the design, for in it she wanted mortals to be taught to confront their fears and to control their powers, if the need ever arose. She then erected walls and defences invisible to the eye and put into that place her very heart so that all might be loved in her embrace.
Yet, it remained empty.
She took a deep breath and spread her hands across the good green soil of the Gardens, sowing new seeds that would come to grow within the bodies of hopeful mothers. These children would be destined to heal the people of the land, and inhabit the Cathedral. In time they would grow to know its greatness.
Knowing still that the Cathedral would sit empty for years, she decided to entrust it’s protection and that of the land to the nearest family. There was nothing special about them, nothing that defined their presence but the courage to do what was right. She asked and they did so out of genuine want and thus, Oraelia parted with them with a gift.
They were known as the Omun.
The scouts had returned bringing grave news. The humani were marshalling forces on all sides, making a march for Ha Duna. Not much had been heard from the city, besides a few rumors from the many pilgrims who sought the gift of the statuette. The many fears of the Sun’s Daughter had come to fruition. They had tried to seek peace with the surrounding towns and villages, starting small, hoping to work their way up but they had been too slow. Now the host of the Oraeliari within the Caisteal Na Grèine, were preparing for war. Pilgrims were made to take shelter and those tending the surroundings lands were brought in for protection or sent home.
Spears were forged, blades were made anew, arrows were fletched and bows were strung. With the help from Lucia and Sanya, armor was crafted in the visage of the sun. From their inner forges, they produced that which could protect like never before. Plate that mimicked the gift of the Goddess. It was not as strong but the likes of it had never been seen before. It was an advancement of the ages but one used in the horrors of war. They were no stranger to that beast. They knew of its pain and suffering but they did not shy away from the task at hand.
The cardinals stood tall, beacons of hope in a tide of crushing dark. Even still, Lucia and Sanya stood taller still. Living embodiments of the mother’s will, brought forth to bring about a lasting peace. Even if it had to be forged with a heavy heart. They would set out soon, in an attempt to save that land from it’s own vices, from more needless pain.
Solus watched from where he stood in the courtyard. Silent but resolute. He had returned from the far west, preventing those who sought conquest upon the dunalands. But he had failed to look to the east and now what approached was a deep breath before the plunge.
Lucia and Sanya walked to him and he knelt down. Both held their helmets under the arms, while the darker haired woman carried her spear in the other. With a look of doubt, Lucia bowed before him.
”Mighty Solus. I wish we could have met under better circumstances. It seems the mortals here have a penchant for starting wars over something or another. I wish it were not so. I thought we were going to do better but the conflict that is brewing is testament to that failure. But I digress. How are you doing? Was the trip west uneventful?” She asked in a voice that reminded the avatar of his mother. In fact, no one had ever asked him how he was doing and Solus did not know how to react.
“You…” He began in a deep, but soft voice. “Remind me… Of her… Mother.” The avatar took a pause. “The West… Is secure. Saved from… Warlords and… False gods. Here is… No different… You all will… Save them… From… Themselves. You… Must. I will… Help.”
Lucia nodded, a look of relief washing over her face. ”It does me good to hear that, Solus. I am glad you are well and unharmed from your trip. I can’t imagine dealing with all that but you did and we thank you for it. We plan on leaving for Ha Duna shortly once the final preparations are made. If all goes well, we can prevent anything from happening before it gets out of hand. Let’s hope that there is no trickery afoot from other, less civil, gods. As it stands, anything could happen and we have to keep our eyes open. Having you at our side will put all of us at ease. So, thank you, Solus.” she flashed a smile and jabbed Sanya, who also gave her thanks.
Solus stood and remained silent for a time. “War… Never changes. We will… Do… What we…” A presence came snaking in on the winds and the avatar turned his attention up and behind them. His perception scanning the skies for that which was unseen by mortal eyes. There. He found it… No… He found her… Flying so high above.
His voice was no longer soft. “She… Flies… Up above... My old… Enemy. A viper… A stain… Lucia… Sanya… Aveira… Has come. Protect… I must. Mother… Would… Want that… Thank you… For kind… Words… Aveira must… Be… Destroyed. Goodbye… Daughters… of the… Sun.” He took off into the air as Aveira made her approach.
Behind him, Lucia cried out for him to stop but Solus was resolute in his charge. Aveira could not be allowed to meddle in the affairs here. Another Luminant… Was not needed. It was time for her to face judgement.
Oraelia does some stuff in the Gardens, location pending. Then we see what the Oraeliari and Luciya have been up to in Ha Duna. Solus feels an old presence and goes to fight it.
Holy Site - Cathedral of Light
-1DP (Compassion) Oraliyah’s Embrace I - Those who venture into this Holy Site’s hallowed grounds feel the warmth and touch of the Goddess Oraliyah. Aggression dissipates, anger washes away and a sense of serenity overcomes those most out of sorts. -1DP (Healing) Healing Baths I - Within the confines of this Cathedral, there are fountains that contain the healing waters of the goddess. The longer one submerges in these waters, the more they are healed from their physical ailments. -1MP Large Stone I - This Cathedral is very tall and wide, perhaps bigger then what most mortals can achieve currently. -1MP The training Ground I - There is a special area within the Cathedral that acts as a place for those wishing to train themselves and others. The area itself is more of a large courtyard and is one of the only places in the Cathedral where combat is permitted. One of the more supernatural rooms of the Cathedral, as the area never seems to run out of training dummies and targets. -1DP (Punishment) Hallowed Ground I - The ground that the Cathedral sits upon is protected by the Goddess. Acts of aggression, of harm, of hatred and of war, are not tolerated here. If any such transgression were to pass, the Cathedral will trap offenders in a prison of light. This prison is only a temporary thing, allowing time for other defenses to arrive. 2 Free Titles (Sunlight) Solar Guardians II - The Cathedral can summon forth physical constructs of light in the form of tall beings with mighty armor and blazing swords. There are only a handful of these beings but they will protect the Cathedral at any cost.
-2DP Golden Generation. Oraelia sowed the seeds for a generation of those who have an affinity for the natural healing energies of the world. These mortals are able to heal minor wounds of others by themselves and working together, can even heal those gravely injured. They have a natural pull to the Cathedral of Light in order to house and staff it.
Holy Order - Coven of Omun
-2MP Light Bearers II - Coven members can wield the magics of light in the form of strands, barriers, and shields. This light can be any color and strength varies. Such light, when channelled together, becomes permanent but not infallible. This magic is more defensive in nature, meant to subdue.
-1MP Light Constructors I - Molded by the Cathedral in style, members of the coven can create small constructs of light. They can physically interact with the world and can be used for a variety of applications. When brought forth by a member, they become attuned to their summoner and they know where they are. They can also look through their eyes but if their construct dissipates when doing so, their eyesight is lost.
⅖ Justice ⅖ Repentance ⅗ Punishment
Lucia: 60 Prestige
Lucia -10 major tech shift (Solar forged armor, tough as iron)
He did not dream. Instead, Zayd woke with a jolt, feeling a mix of betrayal and sadness. He looked around but she was gone. Not even the coals of the fire were smoldering. How long had he been asleep? Zayd got to his feet, moving his arms in a circle and stretching them out. He was amazed that they felt fine, maybe a little sore but by all accounts he should have lost them. Even his chest… Where was his shirt?
After a quick sweep, he found his belongings and… A small pile of berries. He frowned and then his stomach grumbled. He was hungry, and thirsty. Not one to let food go to waste, he took the berries and began to eat them as he looked for the old sword. He found it sitting against the rock wall, still coated with black blood. He touched it, feeling the dry texture and how smooth it was. There was something very strange to it, unnatural as the beasts had been. He looked around for their corpses but could only find two black spots on the ground. Had they burned away to nothing?
He shook his head and made the for exit. A cool breeze was blowing the scent of early spring, that wonderful aroma of budding flowers and growing grasses. The light was near midday, just enough for him to cover his eyes so that they might adjust. Had the light always been so blinding, he wondered, stepping out and making his way up the vines. He would need to get home quickly, as he was sure his family were worried for him and he did not know for how long he had been sleeping.
Once he reached the top he finished off the last of the berries and made a quick stop at a nearby stream to drink some of the water. It was pleasant and he drank his fill, washing his face of grime and dirt before continuing on. He tied the sword to his cloth belt, the weight of it alien against his leg at first but that feeling disappeared as he made his way on.
The trip let his thoughts wander back to the plant girl. That kiss… He didn’t even know her name, which was unfortunate. He would have liked to know, or maybe to have seen that smile again but she was gone and Zayd had a feeling he would not see her again. Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps it wasn’t- he still felt guilty all the same. Like he could have done more for her. Shown her the land, given her another hiding spot, kept her company…
He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself, fantasizing about what never would be. No, it would just be a story that he could not tell anyone about. Not his family, not his future wife, not his future kids. Not even grandkids. Partly because he couldn’t speak and for the fact he felt as if something like that got out, it could cause trouble. She was being hunted by something. Those demons… They were not natural, they were not of Oraliyah or the gods. What could have even wanted her?
It made him angry to even think about it. He couldn’t do anything to help her. She would just fade from his memory. Like a forgotten dream, wanting to be remembered, so desperately. No! He would not forget her, he could not forget what she did for him. Never.
At least the forest was lively.
Zayd cleared the woods as he tightened his resolve of that smile of hers, the memory of his savior’s kiss. He would remember it and think fondly of her. As he continued on, his eyes caught the open fields of his home and… Smoke on the horizon. A great plume of it, thick and dark. Why were they having a fire that large, at this hour?
Unless… Oh no!
Zayd broke into a sprint, letting the wind whip through his hair. His earlier fears washed away in a torrent of like a raging river, unleashed by this new fear. This ever growing thing that threatened to consume him forever. He had been a fool! If those demons had found him then what’s to say they wouldn’t have found his home!
His lungs felt like they were going to burst, like he was going to pass out. He was pushing himself too much, too soon but what else was there to do? He ran and ran and as he approached, he was welcomed by horrors. The fields were burned out, their livestock was slaughtered or missing and the smell of death was pungent. It made him want to vomit and he almost did but he sucked it down and pushed on, slower now. He was shaking, he couldn’t even call out to see if anyone was there. Not that he could hear anything but the crackling of wood.
As he stepped onto the long, well worn path to the homestead, he found it was littered with dried blood, broken pots, splintered wood, tattered clothes and burned out fires. He spotted several black spots, the same as were in the cave and he felt his spine shiver. He took out his copper sword, trembling within his grasp. This was his home, it shouldn’t- it couldn’t look like this.
As he approached the homestead proper, his heart grew heavy at the amount of destruction. The first few houses, his uncles houses, were completely burned to ash and timbers as he walked up into the center. It was then his eyes caught sight of something closer towards the middle. He didn’t know what he was looking at first but his mind began to put the pieces together as he drew closer, like his mother when she would sow. Slow but always coming toge-
He threw up.
The pungent smell of berries clouding his senses as tears filled his vision.
Before him, suspended by pikes of wood through their throats and stomachs, was his father and uncles. At their feet lay a pile of pale corpses. His boy cousins, around his age and a bit younger, perhaps older. A few of his aunts and girl cousins were there as well. Stripped naked, bodies clawed, some chewed to pieces and others with their throats slit. All with vague eyes, open and cloudy, looks of pain and fear. Of ending.
Zayd couldn’t breath. He felt like he was choking. He wretched again in his panic, then dry heaved until he gasped for air. When he at last caught his breath, he rebounded and ran off, stumbling in the direction of his home.
He found it. The roof was caved in, and the doorway was little more than just a gaping hole. He worked his way inside, shuffling around the debris and moving them when he could. The family room was broken apart, like the wind had come and blown everything to one side. He pushed on, towards the sleeping room and found a great amount of dried blood there. It coated one wall and the floor, staining sheets, pillows, and blankets that dark crimson color of suffering. He fell to his knees, then tossed his sword at a wall. It clanged and hit the dirt floor with a thud. Zayd then gripped his head and shut his eyes, wishing to wake up from the nightmare.
With the last body wrapped, and carefully laid on the pyre with the others, Zayd cast a torch and let his family rest. Nothing was really the same. He barely ate, barely drank- just went on with his motions. Preparing the dead for the fire, keeping the birds away, dealing with the smell, the bloating, the warmer days.
Time didn’t really matter to him, for he felt nothing. And if one did not feel, then why would one care?
He did what any good man would do, what was expected of him. He should have buried them but the stink was attracting too many animals. They would not eat and defile these corpses, no. Thus he burned them and as he watched, fire reflecting in his hazy eyes, Zayd knew not what to do next.
He did not find any others in his family. His mother, brothers, sisters. They were missing and so were most of his younger cousins and his aunts. Who would have taken them? Slavers? No… Even slavers were not that cruel and this land was free, protected by… Where were the soldiers of the Hash’Lahan? Of Artikulah? The curious eyes of the passersby? The Coven of Omun?
Where was his help? Where was any help? Why did no one save them… Why didn’t he save them? Because he ran away… Like a coward unable to accept responsibility. His father was right. He was no soldier. He would be no great warrior. His dream of bringing honor to himself and his family were burning right before him. He remembered her smile and he paused where he stood, looking out over to distant lands. His shoulders slumped and he grimaced. He was not worthy of that smile. For he who could not protect his family from wolves, deserved nothing. For he was nothing. He was worthless, a leech that persisted on despite knowing it should be dead.
With staggered feet, he began to withdraw from the fire, walking back to his home. His gaze could not stomach looking at anything around him. The broken houses bringing forth the memories of better times. Now there was nothing but pain here, that was the only truth he knew. Pain and the memories of better times. A constant reminder. He didn’t want to stay but where would he go? This was all he had known.
There was really only one thing left for a person that had brought shame, dishonor, and failure to his own name. He walked past his home and fell upon his knees in the tall grass. He pulled his father’s dagger from his belt and looked upon it. It was one sided, long as his hand and tarnished. Zayd had found it in the house, unused but well kept.
Now, it would be used.
He looked up at the sky, tears beginning to fall down his face. He hoped his family would forgive him. He hoped they would not suffer at the hands of fate. His hands were calm as he brought the blade to his neck and pressed the bladed side to his throat. He thought of his savior and hoped that she would find her way. He felt something hot trickle down his throat as he closed his eyes, breathing deep and prepared a fitting end for the coward he was.
He thought of a memory, he wanted to think of his savior as the last thing he saw but instead, he remembered a time when his baba was still alive. Down at the river, where he was teaching Zayd how to fish. It had been right after he lost his tongue and his spirits had faltered. Baba told him with kind eyes, “Zayd, you must not let this take your spirit. Remember this always, what we lose, makes us stronger. In ways that might not be seen by the naked eye, or known by the mind but,” He had poked Zayd in the chest, “What is felt by the heart.”
Zayd snapped his eyes open and the blade slipped from his fingers, landing in the grass before him. He heaved, and placed his head on the grass as he cried again. What was he doing? Why was he giving up so easily? He had family out there somewhere, afraid and alone and he was just going to kill himself? He would die trying but he would find them and he would bring justice to this senseless act. He had to. It was the only thing that ushered in a new purpo-
“Are you alright?”
The voice startled Zayd and he shot up. A man stood before him, gripping tight to the reigns of a massive bird. A terrakin! It’s body was sleek, kept up by two powerful legs with great talons. It’s neck rose up above them, leading to a large crushing beak and rows of red and yellow crest feathers. It looked on edge and the man too, looked uneasy. This man, who wore an old brown shirt and tan pants. Black beard, tinged with silver, large and bushy upon a slim face with high cheekbones and inquisitive eyes. He wore a cap of black upon his bald head. “Are you hurt? What happened here?” He asked, standing still.
Zayd got to his feet, leaving the dagger on the ground. He looked over his shoulder and then back to the man and shook his head. He then pointed to his throat and opened his mouth to show him.
The man gave a thin frown in return. The kind his father had given him when he had been disappointed. It was both comforting and humiliating. “I noticed the smoke a day ago. Then a new fire this morning. Was this place your home?”
Zayd nodded as his face twisted with emotion. Then he placed his hands atop his head and paced back and forth. It had been his home, now it was just broken wood and embers.
The man looked past him, then back to him with a slow nod. “There are strange things happening in this land. Tales of mass death and blood sacrifices.” He shook his head. “Ah, I should not trouble you further. Come on then. By Oraliyah’s light I won’t leave you here by yourself. You look starved boy and these nights, one can never be too careful alone. I have a home half a day’s journey away from here, if we leave now, we might make it before dark.”
Zayd breathed through his nose, and looked back at his home. He steeled himself, this would not be the end. He would return with those he could save, no matter what. For now, the man’s invitation would be enough. He would get his strength back and rest, then his journey would begin.
He turned back and nodded, picking up his dagger and putting it in his belt. That was all he needed.
“Have you ever ridden on a terrakin before?” the man asked as he approached. Zayd eyed the bird and it eyes him back and he shrank, quickly shaking his head. “Not to worry, old Itern is calm. Calmer than most, at least. Let me help you up.”
After a bit of reprehension, Zayd was on the bird, sitting closest to its neck. He didn’t know where to grab so he wrapped his arms around its neck. The bird’s head came down and with a mighty clack, it startled Zayd enough and he almost fell off if not for the man steadying him. He chuckled aloud. “Itern doesn’t like constriction around his neck. Grab on to the larger feathers in front of you and hold on. Terrakin are quick.”
Once Zayd had done that, he peered over his shoulder at the man. “No sense in waiting then. Itern! Home!” At once, the terrakin lurched forward and with mighty leaps, as if it was more flying then running, they were off. Zayd shut his eyes tight, holding on for dear life as the man laughed deep behind him.
“The name’s Nadir, by the way.” he shouted over the wind. “And you are most safe now.”
Zayd wakes up in the cave, the plant girl is gone but she left him some snacks. He’s feeling good after almost dying and heads home. But sees smoke on the horizon. When he gets home, it’s a mess and it looks like a battle took place. He then finds a pile of his dead family and breaks down. He then burns them all and almost kills himself a few days later before a memory of his baba stirs him to hope again and a stranger arrives, whisking him away from the nightmare.
She was far away in the land of her Lady's realm. So far from the Furies and Oraelia, frolicking with the animals she had come to love so greatly. They were her friends and that which she loved the most in her existence. From the smallest of mice to the largest of sky whales, they lived in the harmony she had created within the Garden Under the Sun. For what was a garden without life that could appreciate it?
The mortals would of course, for they were not able to not appreciate a realm where anything was possible. Where beauty was at every turn. Oh those pesky mortals. Always fighting and arguing. Never knowing that peace was so close to achieve yet so far away. For those who chose to dominate blocked every path.
But right now, Rhiona did not care about mortal woes. Instead she was busy creating something new in a small glade. She had made many animals and plants since she came to be but now she wanted to try something completely new.
Abstract of the mind but beautiful all the same.
She outstretched her hands and then cupped them together, bringing them back up to her face. She breathed into them and a stream of light coalesced forth coming into a lively ball that wobbled back and forth. It tickled her and she giggled, giving it a scratch with a free finger. It pulsed and it's golden color turned pink as it's body changed shapes into symmetrical blobs that glowed with such beauty it took her breath away. Who knew something so small could contain the beauty of stars.
It was small, yes, but held promise. She set it down and watched as it hovered around a blade of tall grass. She could make it even more beautiful still. Rhiona then picked up a large rock and then crushed it within her hands so tight the pieces became hard. She then blew the rock onto the creature and it coated the vibrating light in a million crystals. It seemed to enjoy that as it's color changed to a lively gold again, it's shape becoming that of a disc as it flew around her head.
It reminded her of a shooting star. So she would name it, ”Lumin.” Upon hearing her voice, the lumin danced and in it’s excitement, it flew into her head, letting out a low buzz as it fell to the earthen floor. Rhiona sank to her knees beside it and gently scooped it up with a soft smile on her face. ”You must be careful, little one.”
The lumin buzzed, changing to a deep blue color. Rhiona looked it once over and blew upon it. It fluttered, changing its shape again to a circle. ”There, now if you hurt yourself, you can mend. Mend and give.” The lumin zipped off her hand and took flight around her head again. Rhiona giggled.
She then grew the creature to the size of a royal joyf and multiplied its characteristics to create more of its kind. Around her they flew amongst the grasses and the trees, pairing off. Rhiona then blessed them with enhanced fertility so that they could make more of themselves. She did not know if they would be sent to Galbar eventually, but even creatures such as they could enjoy the company of one another.
Satisfied with her newest creation, she sat down to hold one but felt… A presence that should not be. It was one of death and it had come to their realm. This could not stand!
Rhiona creates some critters then feels a presence of death. That’s it, that’s the post.
5/5 -3MP Lumins - These mastiff sized creatures are made of light and use millions of crystals as a frame to contain that light within. They can use these crystals to form mundane geometric shapes and patterns that are symmetrical. These forms are almost always changing, never keeping the same form for too long. Their crystals also refract their light within as they change colors depending upon their mood. They move around by hovering and flying.
Females of this species are slimmer than their male counterparts, who are larger in size. They breed by pairing for life and mingling their light together, placing a small bit of both into crystals that they also give from themselves for their offspring. They are biologically immortal as they do not need to eat, drink or sleep. They can be killed as much as anything else.
-2MP (Ability) Intrinsically Beautiful- To look upon a Lumin is to look upon a magnificent sight. Unlike other races with flesh and bone, Lumins are made of crystals that bring out true beauty in the forms of their color shifts and their ever changing forms.
-2DP (Ability) Ray of Life- They have been imbued with the essence of life upon their creation and are capable of spreading this life by use of their light. This ray shoots forth, letting plants grow and banishing that which is undead.
-2DP (Ability) Ray of Healing- They have also been imbued with the essence of healing and are naturally inclined to mend that which is broken. Not only can they heal each other, they can heal flesh and mortal like wounds, by use of their crystals.
-1DP (Blessing) Fertility- They are naturally slow to produce offspring and raise their young for many years as they grow slowly. But with this blessing they are capable of having a couple offspring per reproductive cycle and don't have many complications when doing so.
So he ran, deeper towards the light from whence he came. He had nowhere else to go. The cave was the only option. The only thing he could think of was the swords. If he could get one he might have a chance at fending them off. But that was only if…
The thought struck him with dread.
He was leading those monsters to her! She had just saved him and now… And now he was putting her life in danger! Was he really so selfish? Perhaps his father was right… He shook his head- Now was not the time to think about that! Now was the time to live or die.
His footsteps echoed further, the snarls of the monsters closing in behind. They were close to the entrance. As the light neared, he saw the familiar silhouette of his savor, visage obscured by darkness, but the spear in her hand did not go unnoticed.
“Why you come!” She yelled at him, brandishing the spear. “I say go! You go!” She moved closer to him and Zayd slowed down. He turned sideways and then pointed towards the entrance, finger shaking. He looked at her and could tell she wasn’t paying attention.
“I say go! You go! No stay!” She shouted again. “Wh-” Her voice was cut off by a loud howl. Her eyes grew wide with fear. Her once proud posture seemed to grow smaller and she looked past him to the gleam of red eyes entering her abode.
“Oh no.” She managed to say.
Zayd took his chances and ran past her, around the small wall and into a crevice at the back of the cave. He looked up to see her shaking with fear, they were nearly upon her and she wasn’t even defending herself! Zayd grunted as he thrust his hand into the rocks. He was cut several times by sharp stones but his hand found what it was after- a hilt. He pried the sword free with little effort and swung around to rescue her from the monsters but…
They ignored her.
With one sniff of her head, the larger one moved on towards Zayd and the smaller one paced back and forth like some sort of shield, preventing him from being able to reach her but still keeping her from running. She crouched down and that was the last thing he saw of her before his attention swapped to the monster coming closer. In the light of the fire his eyes fell upon a horrible sight. Of a creature’s flesh that moved like worms in the dirt after a downpour. It was disgusting and the smell was foul. It stood nearly shoulder height to him and Zayd began to wonder if his dull copper sword was going to do anything to it.
Still, he had to try. He couldn’t let fear control him! He took a defensive stance, eyes never leaving the beast that approached. It did not slow down, a low rumble emitting from it’s chest, teeth dripping with a black liquid. Zayd lunged at it, bringing his sword down in an arc but the creature was fast and it side stepped him. He overcompensated his wing and went forward as he lost his footing. Something slammed into his left side, sending him crashing against the rocks. His vision blurred and he felt two things, one was a blistering pain and the other was anger. He forced himself to stay awake and gripped his hilt tighter as he turned to the creature. It ran at him and Zayd barely had time to roll out of the way, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He sprawled out in a heap as the creature slammed into the rocks with a piercing scream.
It lunged at him again in it’s rage and Zayd tried to roll out of the way, but it pinned his left arm. A rare scream came from his lips, haggard and muted as it was. He felt something break and vision blacken one more, but this left an opening as the creature snapped at his body that had moved. With his right arm, he stabbed the creature in the neck. It screamed again, and Zayd lost the sword as it instinctively jumped away from the danger and into the other wall. It lost its footing as it screamed again.
Zayd was relieved and began to sit up, watching the creature begin to struggle as dark liquid began to spew from the wound. That was his mistake, for the next thing he knew, something snapped down tight on his right shoulder. He wanted to scream, but his breath was taken away. He glanced right and the smaller beast had bitten down and then squeezed. Zayd struggled to free himself but there was little he could do, it was like the weight of three men holding him down, applying pressure, breaking bone, ripping flesh.
Fear took him then, and the creature shook its head, rending his flesh even further before it threw him to the floor, knocking what little wind he had in him out. His eyes were barely able to stay open as he saw it come toward him with such evil eyes. His vision began to fade and the last thing he saw was… The girl… And… Her spear...
“...uman…”
Light was fading. Dim glows. The smell of smoke. There were screams in the dark and terrible eyes. So many eyes. It was like they surrounded him whole, always watching with such malice. He couldn’t escape them no matter how he tried and they threatened to swallow him up whole.
“...You need too…” Was that a light hidden in the eyes? Something blue besides the crimson. He reached for it and tried to grab it with such desperation but it was fleeting like a shooting star. Fading from his vision.
“...Wake…”
Zayd felt himself fall with a jerk. He tried to scream but his voice was lost. It had always been lost. The eyes began to streak together as he fell, like horrible rivers of blood, threatening to swallow him up. To suffocate him entirely! He heard the howl, tenfold and bloodchilling as hot and humid breath touched his neck. It was going to kill hi-
“WAKE UP!”
His eyes snapped open, tears flooring down his cheeks. He tried to move but a hand pressed his chest down. He looked up to see her face, red with worry. He felt so much pain and he couldn’t move his shoulder without jolts of pain. He took a ragged breath and it felt like something had stabbed him. It was hard to breath. He was able to move his legs and feet and even his left arm? Hadn’t that been brok-
“I try heal. I try.” She said in a softer voice, and Zayd focused on her as she took his left hand within her own. They were so soft and that voice of hers, she sounded sorry.
He looked at her and gave a slight nod. He should have been dead. He would be, if it wasn’t for her. She must have killed them but… He tried to sit up but felt faint. She seemed to realize what he wanted and kept her hand pressed down. Not enough to hurt him but enough for him to realize he shouldn’t move.
His eyes moved frantically, as they strained to see if they were truly safe.
“No worry. Is okay. Killed.” She pressed a hand to his cheek and wiped away one of his tears. “You brave.” She said after a moment, their eyes connecting. Her face was one of guilt and behind those crimson eyes there was a pain of her own.
“Why?” The question caught Zayd off guard. Why what? Why had he fought them? Why had he ran back into the cave? He could have ran anywhere else, those things would have followed. Right?
Was it guilt that had made him pick up a sword? Or was it that he really had believed he could prove himself? He didn’t feel like he had proved a damn thing though. If anything, it had shown just how stupid he was.
A thousand different emotions crossed his face and he looked away from her. He couldn’t speak, so why even try to explain? But he felt her hand tug him back to her and he relented. Zayd froze when they met again. She was… She was smiling. It made his heart flutter, that smile, so warm and genuine and just… Beautiful.
“Thank you.” She whispered, a violet tear rolling down her cheek to her chin, then falling onto his bare chest. When did he lose his shirt?
The plant girl then looked away from him, frowning. “I heal you. You rest…” She paused, peeling her hands away to rest them over the side of his stomach. “I go after.” Before he had time to object, he had the same tingling sensation as before, and then something popping. He groaned as his eyes went hazy but it did not linger and he took his first full breath of air without the stabbing in his side. Relief washed over his senses and he gave her a weak smile.
He raised his good arm and then pointed to her. Then he pointed at himself. He frowned and began to shake his head. He didn’t want her to go. How would she be safe from whatever those things were that attacked them?
She guided his hand back down with her own and shook her head. “I go. I d-danger. To you.”
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, shaking his head again. He began to mouth the word, stay, but this only further pushed her away. She broke free and stood up. Zayd tried to follow, but she placed a foot on his chest this time and she kept him down. He gave up in defeat and settled back down.
“I...:” She pointed at herself. “Go.” Then she pointed at him. “You stay. You go home. Forget.” She said it with such a commanding tone, a stark contrast to how she had been only a few minutes ago. She walked over behind his head and sank to her knees. He looked up at her and she peered back before he felt her hands upon his right shoulder. The tingling began and he winced as she worked.
Zayd made up his mind right then and there. When he was healed, he would follow after her. He didn’t know why but that smile had been enough to convince him that it needed to be protected. He was stupid but it had led him to her, right? That had to mean something. It just had to. He needed a purpose.
He felt another pop and his eyes focused on her once more. She brought her head close and Zayd felt his heart beat faster. Her eyes seemed to wander over his face for a moment and then she placed a small kiss upon his forehead.
“Sorry.” She whispered and before he could register what was going on, he felt her hand press into the base of his neck. The last thing he remembered was that kiss, warm and gentle, before his eyes faded to black.
Zayd, our fledgling hero, fights the demon dogs after they follow him into the cave. Strangely, they don’t attack the plant girl and one even begins to defend her. She looks shocked if anything but Zayd doesn’t worry about that, cause he’s got a fight of his own with the other dog. He wounds it, after getting thrown about and mangled pretty bad. As that one began its death throes the other one got the surprise on him and crushed his right shoulder, throwing him about some more. The last thing he sees is the plant girl attacking then he dreams some pretty bad stuff.
He wakes up to the plant girl, who has been healing him. Who knows how long the days have passed. She thanks him for being brave but tells him she is leaving. Zayd, after falling for her smile, wants her to stay but she shakes her head. As she heals the last of his energies, she kisses his forehead then knocks him out with a pressure point.
The great crimson sun hung in the many-hued heavens of the western wastes of the Kubrajzar. It seemed to eat up the skies, which were different hues of orange and yellow and red, as though there was not even the possibility of coolness in sight. The desolate redlands took the beating of the sky with the patience and fortitude of two thousand or more years - who could know? Were these wastes not eternal?
But there was a being here now whose like had never wandered the deserts and vales of the Kubrajzar. Malri was far from home. Yet as he wandered in the oppressive heat that baked his armor and cooked his skin, turning his wings to what felt like flames, he knew he never truly had a home. The Luminant was but a distant memory… The snow wastes, oh the snow wastes, they were gone too. Even the ocean was nothing more but a desire now. A distant want to escape the heat. It was torture. For he could not die. The bands kept him imprisoned to his flesh, healing his burns as they burned, fueling his rage. Not even thirst could keep him down. It was as if his mouth and throat were the desert and his tongue a shriveled, dying plant but it didn't stop his slow march. He was a wrathful spirit, consumed to the core.
Every now and then his mace would poof into existence beside him, only to be abandoned again as he walked and only for it to reappear. Time and time again. He lost track after the tenth time, for his mind wandered frequently and his vision was haunted by a red haze. This fate was not fitting for him. He had been conqueror, a king! He had been a God! No he was a God!
Right?
Did Gods tire? Did they get punished for being cursed? Did they thirst and hunger? Feeling their insides starve and be replenished? Did they become consumed by rage? Over and over and over and over and over and over…
No sooner had he begun to think that the suffocating heat of day could do him no more harm - that his body had taken all its ardent rays and emerged victorious - then that great crimson sky-orb slipped behind the sandy horizon and the twin-moons came riding the night on wings of bitterest cold. The chill would have raked at his very bones, perhaps, but he laughed in the face of the night. Such as he no longer feared the cold. His laughter did not last long however, for even if he was warmed by the stone, it reminded him that this was not a place of pleasant airs. Extremes on both sides, never just a pleasant day. It made him angry.
Everything made him angry and as he quickly found out, that anger could do nothing but keep him alive. Coupled with the bands, it prolonged his suffering. Such as Malri was too vengeful to die in such a place. Truly, he could use his anger to escape and then punish those that had wronged him. He would endure to enact his revenge against the Litus tribe and that damn giant. For in this place he could keep his anger sustained forever. The heat and cold… The never ending cycle… It took a toll even on him and added fuel to the fire that burned inside of him. Like hot coals begging to be ignited into a roaring inferno.
So he kept walking, sluggish now, each anger filled step, feeling like his last. There was no direction in mind, for his mind was taxed to the limit on just surviving. Besides, it wasn't like he had any idea where to go.
There was just the endless walk towards his enemies or the nothingness that haunted him. Of a revenge never given. He preferred the latter. For seemingly endless cycles of day and night did he wander, the redlands spreading out before him in all directions. Sand and rock spread out as far as the eye could see, here and there great towering rock formations shot up like gravestones. Their shade, at least, provided some relief. He was in such a state of rageful delirium that he almost missed it one day - that something was different.
On the distant horizons there was something not red. At first it seemed like the sky had forgotten to be red or orange or some other torrid colour, but after his eyes passed over it a few times and it did not disappear he knew it was no illusion. There on the horizon was greenery and the promise of life.
Where there was green, there was water and water brought food. The idea of such necessities was tantalizing. It brought him renewed vigor or the illusion of it as he scrambled closer. It ushered forth in his mind an all consuming drive. It was the essence of surviving or death would claim him. Day by day the greenery got closer and closer, and soon enough it was but a handspan away.
Before him, as far as the eye could see, were wrinkled husks of trees and plants - there seemed in them no sign of life; their only feature was that they glowed green and so gave the illusion of life. There was no water to be seen, no coolness from the eye of the sun. The wasteland remained - only that now it was green.
As he came to a stop before this trickery, he did not want to believe it. He could not believe it. He walked so far and for so long and this was what awaited him? This… This false hope. He felt his anger turn to rage, and his rage began to bubble. The all too familiar sound of his mace arriving next to him was too tempting, and so, in a burst of speed that had eluded him before, Malri picked up his mace and swung. He swung at the plants and at the trees, roaring and cursing. It wasn’t fair! They would suffer as he suffered! He would make them feel his pain and as a particularly large husk was felled, Malri stumbled and fell forward. A great bloom of dust erupted from the ground as his body- no… His carcass found it’s resting place.
His rage subsided, growing dull as it did but leaving a reminder of its presence in the back of his mind. It wouldn’t let him die. That was his curse. He was too angry to die. What was left but that? Nothing but a nagging to keep moving on. The drive that came over those that faced death. And so, Malri began to drag himself. He would show them just how strong his will was. No matter what it took.
Yet these barrens - for all their lifelessness - were not quite devoid of life, and in his rage and in the great cacophony of his whirling mind, Malri almost missed the subtle sound of… buzzing. Looking tired towards the sound, he found that in the distance a great dust cloud was blowing wildly and violently, eating up all about it and approaching at speed. Only that - on closer inspection - it did not seem to be a dust cloud at all. The way its particles moved seemed too free to be the simple work of the wind. And as the buzzing grew louder and more incessant, and as the cloud grew ever closer, it dawned on him that the approaching cloud was in fact alive.
It was an endless vespian swarm, no doubt drawn by the great fury he had unleashed upon this deceptively verdant mirage. He growled, pushing himself to his feet as he watched the approaching swarm. His mace was not far and he walked to retrieve it. The rush began to flood into his senses, awakening them once more. He had heard of these things from the Litus tribes but had never actually seen them. Still… He wondered if they were edible.
They came screeching and hissing, armoured vicious things with abnormally large scything talons and stingers; and they seemed to care for little but him. Mindlessly they came, and mindlessly they were cut down - and still they came, blotting out the light of the sun, swarming from all directions, cutting at wings, at lefts, at arms.
His armor could only do so much and every cut, every sting, every bite that he felt was a dose of rage. He felt his wings be torn to shreds, he felt them be reduced to bloody stumps of flesh. He lost himself in the pain and his rampage was never ending. They came and they died. They cut him and he healed. They bit and stung him and he healed. He felt something hot run in his veins, only for it be purged with the inferno that was his core. His mace was a bludgeon and it became coated in sickly green, as well as his armor. They did not seem to be afraid of him and he welcomed it. It meant they would die by his hand.
And parting the swarm of little things came red and brown giants, winged and maned, and they struck out with claws and seemed, to Malri, to be directing the smaller ones so that they acted in greater synchrony - for now they seemed to see where he was weakest and target him there. Healing wings were struck, aligning limbs were scythed again and again. The swarm seemed as relentless as it was endless, day had become night beneath their sheer number, it seemed neither a step forth nor a step back could be taken except that they were there.
He began to grow tired of the game they played. The small ones were not a challenge, but a nuisance that did not end. It was time to go after the bigger prey. Try as he might however, his wings were gone and the swarm would not let him have a moment of peace. So Malri was forced to break the smaller ones, over and over again. Their bodies began to pile, turning the very ground wet with liquid. Malri pressed on.
There came a moment - he sensed the change immediately - when the swarm seemed to realise that there was a great futility to this for they very suddenly they began to back off - one moment he was cleaving them left and right and above and even below, and the next they were out of reach. They observed him for a while, watching as he attempted to reach them but buzzing just out of reach, and then they turned and left just as swiftly and in just as great a cloud - though Malri liked to think it was somewhat reduced - as they came. He watched them depart through the adrenaline, the world around a great vespian graveyard.
He fell to his knees and ripped off his helmet, then wasted no time in picking up a broken bit of chitin with what he assumed was meat, and took a bite. The mere taste was enough to repulse him and he gagged, spitting it out. In a fit, he punched one of the fresh corpses and it exploded on him. He wiped the gunk off his face and then grabbed his helmet, rushing off after the swarm before his adrenaline faded. He could feel his wings beginning to regrow and it would not be long before they were strong enough to fly with. He needed to see where they were going. Perhaps they had food and water. It was the only lead he had.
As soon as his great black wings were in a ready state, he beat them on the torrid air and went flying after the swarm. By air the distances that required endless nights and days on foot were eaten up as easily as lovers whispered sweet nothings to one another; and as easily as Malri planned to consume whatever eatable, drinkable vittles these sorry insects led him to. When he made landfall, it was within sights of a great oasis; real greenery and real water. But it was clear that it was not unoccupied - the very vespians, it seemed, called this place home. As he made his way towards it, hellbent on doing to them just as he had done before, a small group came zipping towards him and stopped some distance away.
They all looked the same to him, but if they could look different then perhaps these ones were, in some insectoid sense, more refined, cleaner. And they did not come at him in a swarm. “Hail, Vespslayer.” One stridulated, “we are the hWebi-Vesp, traders and resource gatherers. We have heard of you in the cries of those more barbarous kin of ours - we have no wish for strife or war.”
Malri hung in the air, inhaling their words with each beat of his wings. He had not thought them capable of speech, nevertheless capable of being traders. From behind his helmet, a very rare smile appeared upon his lips. “Those that do not wish for war and strife often find themselves in it’s midst.” he said, voice raspy and dry. “If these kin of yours told you about me, then they will have made mention that I was unkillable, yes? Now listen closely, for my patience for your kind is thin. I require food and drink and answers. Provide these and I will not harm you.” They stridulated amongst themselves for a few moments, and then the one who had spoken before turned back to Malri.
“There is no need to speak of harm, we will feed you and quench your thirst, and we shall give you answers too. In exchange we ask little - we are traders still, and we ask something easy and of little value. We too would like answers. Food and drink in exchange for our safety from your wrath, and answers from us for answers from you. It is a good trade.”
Malri was in little mood to argue with them, as much as he thought them inferior. Besides, spilling blood in the water would ruin it. Probably. After a moment of silent contemplation, he flew closer and uttered but one word. “Agreed.” They watched him with their jewel-like eyes for a few moments, before stridulating their approval and zipping off into the air, towards the oasis-hive. The trees that grew around the oasis were all fruiting - palms, figs, apricots, peaches, and other fruits. Fabrics and banana leaves were laid out in the shade and clay bowls of fruit were brought before the black-winged Neiyari, as were jugs of water from the oasis. A fire was lit nearby and an ibex placed on a spit.
“We prefer it raw, but the redmen do not like such things - if you wish for it raw, Vespslayer, simply tell us.” The one who spoke hovered above the ibex for a few moments before zipping down and sitting on his thighs before the winged being.
Malri could hardly believe the bounty of food that was laid before him. He removed his helmet post haste and set it on the ground next to him. The flame flickered and danced over his impassive visage. The first thing he did was grab a jug and bring it to his parched lips. He drank until it was empty, then did so again. Next, he grabbed a fruit, not caring what it was and began to eat. The sweet flavors erupted in his mouth before being swallowed up like a wolf.
Between bites, he managed to say, “Cook it.” and glanced towards the meat. He then went back to drinking and eating the fruit, the aromas of meat seducing his nose, making hum hungrier. It felt as if years had gone by since his last meal. When at last the meat was cooked he took while still hot and ripped into the flesh. The meat was gamey but he would not complain.
The hWebi-Vesp watched him as he tore through fruit and meat alike, and fresh bowls of fruit and jugs of water were swiftly brought forth to replace empty ones, which were carried off. As he began to slow down, however, jugs of a strange, sweet-smelling liquid were brought forth. “Date wine. The redmen like it.” The speaker explained. “We don’t. Meat and water is sufficient - meat raw best.” The creature paused as it poured some of the wine into a cup and placed it before him. “Where did you come from, Vespslayer?”
He took another sniff of the date wine before taking a large swig. The taste was far too sweet for his liking but it was something different and he downed the cup. He licked his lips as he turned to the speaker Vesp, narrowing his eyes. “Where is here?” He instead asked.
“Here is the redland - it is redland from the north sea to the south sea, wherever that may be. It is redland from the west sea to the mountain, and it is mountain from the north sea to the south sea, wherever that may be. That is what is here.” The hWebi-Vesp answered simply. “How did you come to be here, Vespslayer, without knowing where here is?”
Malri pondered the words of the speaker. Never before had he heard of such a place or its unique description. His eyes flashed with anger. Where had that damned giant sent him? He took a breath. “Have you heard of a land of golden grass, teeming like the oceans with life? Stretching as far the eyes can see and then further still? Or before that, a land of ice and snow, where the cold would freeze you solid? Or perhaps a place of light, more colorful than any field of flowers or the setting of the sun? These are the places I am from.” He grimaced, gritting his teeth. “Then I was cast out of them, one by one. Finding myself wandering an empty red land of cruel heat and bitter cold. That is how I came to be here.” He spat before drinking some more water. “And what could be powerful enough to cast out the like of you, Vespslayer? Not once - but again and again.” The same speaker asked. “It is certainly not something that dwells in this land or anywhere that we know of.”
He eyed the speaker, his expression souring. “Surely you’ve heard of the divine in this forsaken land? The Gods? They have cursed me time and time again and for what, you might ask?” His words grew angrier. “For being alive, for existing. For asking questions and demanding answers. I was king. Warrior. Wanderer. Conqueror. In this place… It all begins anew. Starting with Vespslayer.” He tore into another piece of meat. The speaker looked to some of her gathered companions.
“And do you think it wise to defy the gods, Vespslayer? If it has played out like this so many times, do you not think it… appropriate… perhaps, to do something differently this time?” She paused and let her words settle. “Perhaps there is a way to achieve what you wish without gaining the ire of the gods. You are sat here eating as you please, delighting in the shade, hearing from us as we hear from you. You have gotten what you wanted. You could have, if you wished, slain us all, taken what fruits and meats you wished for, forced one terrified hWebi-Vesp or another to answer your questions. You would have gotten what you wanted too - though I would say you would have been the poorer for it, and so too would we. Is there no way for you to gain what you want while avoiding divine ire? Many have managed it - why not you?”
“I still could.” He said with a deadpan stare. “Kill you all, I mean. It would be easy, like breaking twigs for a fire. I would feel nothing doing it.” He rolled his head, something cracked in his neck and the giant let out a sigh. “The Gods are fickle things. One could rape, murder, pillage and slaughter a whole nation before they deem it appropriate to act. Is it wise to defy them? No, of course not. You think me a fool do you not? You are inferior to me, just as we are all inferior to the gods. Does a bug not fear a boot? I will do as I please, for they made me this way and the only way they can stop me is if they kill me. They’ve had their chances and each time they send me on my way. Now, tell me of these Redmen and about this land. If you know not where I come from then I am truly forgotten.”
The speaker buzzed in agitation at his words, but then settled down on her thighs. “The gods do as they will. It is not the place of - as you say - bugs to question the boot. If you slay us all it shall, of course, sadden us greatly - but we have no illusions about our own greatness. A god created us and dropped us from the heavens - why? We could not tell you. Perhaps it thought it fun. We do not ask why - it created us and can do as it wants with us. But we think we have a good trade with you. We have given you no reason to slay us - and you have given us your word, have you not?” She paused for a few moments. “Redmen, yes. Two legs, two arms, a head, oddly placed thorax - like you actually, but no wings. Feathers on the head like a crown, hair also. Often the colour of the desert, sometimes dark. They live on the oases, on the coast, in the mountains. Some trade with us - they like many useless trinkets, give good food in exchange. They go beyond the mountains - they say it is all trees there, that there is so much water that it is a snake. They say there is water there as much as the sea, only sweet. Those are the redmen.” “Humani?” He said to himself after a moment of contemplation. He then waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Yes, yes. Gods and greatness. What else exists within these lands that speaks and has thoughts of their own beside the redmen? What are the dangers besides this desert? What do you trade?” He asked leaning back. The speaker clicked and cocked her head.
“Ah, yes. Humen… humenak. They call themselves that - humenaki.” She paused and rubbed her face in thought. “No other sapients on the land. On the sea in the west are waterkin - ugly tentacles, sea-redmen too. They bring treasures from the sea - they bring treasures from distant lands. Powerful tentacle-leader - powerful magicker. But redmen have powerful magick - keep tentacles off land. So they trade instead. Trade is good.” She paused again, clicking her mandibles and rubbing her head as she got her thoughts in order. “Many dangers. Flying men and magickers. Demon-magickers wander the redland. Redmen bring thought-fiends - too much worrying. Faeryfolk can be nasty - but make good trading. Wild vesps are irksome - always after our water, raiding trade. Redman hate us because of it, but hWebi-Vesp do not raid. That is all we know of.
“As for trading - we give poisons, fruits, wild meats, faeryfolk things, salts and copper-rocks, demonbits and trollparts, inks and dyes, weeds and herbs they think precious. We make their food too - grains and earth-things, they give animals. We can’t herd - kin too wild and volatile, can’t herd animals, only kill. But planting we can do - see, fruits and grains that redmen love. They bring camels and goats; delicious. The hides we sell back. We make pots for them too,” she picked up the bowl of fruit, showing off the ornate handiwork, “good quality, yes? We know what redmen like. Many other things. Every useless thing we find, the redmen take.” She stopped there and rubbed her face once more. “See, we give good answers. Why these questions? Do you… plan to rape, murder, pillage and slaughter?” She rubbed her head in agitation. “You are powerful. There is no need. Trade is good. Trade is powerful.”
“Very good answers.” Malri mused. “You speak of many things. Many unknowns. You are useful, that much I can see with my own eyes. And these questions are of great help to me, being a stranger in a strange land after all. Full and ripe for the taking, if one knows where to look for it. And you have looked for it and you have come to your conclusion- That being trade. You trade to live and live to trade, this is plain to see. But are you powerful? You must be if you can maintain this oasis in a desert of death. Protect and maintain, yes. Trade keeps you alive and you are content to always trade then? Is that where your aspirations died? Perhaps, perhaps. Now do tell me, one last question, do these redmen travel to you, or do you travel to the redmen?”
The speaker clicked her mandibles and rubbed her antennae. “Redmen are forbidden here - they come far, travelling back and forth. But here they don’t come. We go to them - they are easy to find, they know where to stay until we come. We are powerful enough to keep them away. Powerful enough to keep our wild kin at bay. More powerful than you? No. But the gods have made you powerful, and so you are. The gods made us weak, but we made ourselves powerful - more powerful than our kin, powerful enough to tame the redmen and stop their aggression, powerful enough to make them bring food to us. We survived. Now we thrive. Maybe one day trading will no longer be good - maybe then we will need to find other things. But now trading is good, and we will keep to it until it isn’t.” She paused again and then gestured to his armour. “Your clothes - odd. Metal? Not copper. How is it done? The redmen will like it.”
Malri gave a bemused smile. “It was forged by a god.” He picked up his mace and displayed it. “Forged by a god.” He set the mace back down. “It cannot be done by mortal hands. There is none like it in all this world. Now, I shall sleep for several days and several nights. Do not disturb me, do not touch me, don’t even think about trying to slit my throat. It won’t work. When I wake, you shall take me inland, towards the mountains. I have no wish to see this sea with its dangers.” He stood up, and looked down upon them. “Since you are fond of trades, I shall offer you this.” He clapped his hands together and a glow came from within. He began to pull back his hands, revealing the glow to be that like the sun’s light. It was blinding but was over in a flash. In his hands there was a red hot blade, unlike any metal seen within the land. That he was sure of. The sword, more of a large dagger to him, was straight like an arrow with a small hand guard and narrow hilt. He showed it to the speaker and the others. “A sunlit blade. Let it drink the sunlight everyday and it will not disappoint you. So, do we have a trade?”
The hWebi-Vesps seemed dazzled by the strange thing, and a few lifted off and backed away from the sudden burst of light. The speaker, however, remained in place and eyed the offered sword. “We never go to the mountain… but for a trade like this, we indeed have a trade. You have nothing to fear from us - and we have nothing to fear from you. Trade is the cure to war and hostilities, and we are trade partners now. Sleep well, Vespslayer.” And with that, the speaker lifted off on her wings and buzzed away with the others, disappearing into a subterranean burrow by the far side of the oasis with the sword in hand. Malri grabbed his helmet and put it on, then took the mace and found a better spot with shade. He rested against a tree, mind abuzz with many hateful things, until at last sleep came.
Malri is in a desert, basically enduring through his rage. Time passes and nothing truly makes sense. He thinks about a lot of things, mad ramblings in his head. He eventually finds green in a desert of red but is tricked cause it’s all dead stuff. He throws a fit and it attracts swarmer Vespians. They rip his wings off to the bone and stab, bite and cut him where his armor is weakest but Malri endures due to the bands of healing and renewal and his sheer rage. He doesn’t even make a dent in the swarmers but kills enough for them to leave. Being a spiteful guy, he trails after them as his wings regrow and comes into contact with trader wasps. They don’t want to fight and offer a trade instead, answers for answers. They treat him to a feast and Malri learns about the place he is in. It’s very far from home, at least he thinks. After some back and forth Malri comes up with a new trade and they graciously accept. Malri then sleeps.
This is for you En. ZIP.
Malri Starting = 19 -1 Prestige to make a sunsword. +5 = 23
Oraelia paced back and forth in front of her portal. Her form was that of her love domain, and her clothing was a dress of white, golden hair long and curly running down her back. Every now and then she would glance outside into Antiquity proper with nervous eyes, the mere thought making her feel sick to her stomach. Could gods feel anxious? Why couldn’t she just do it and get it over with. It was just Neiya and… It was just Neiya… The one who had hurt her so long ago, the one that had hurt Gibbou and Sanya and… It was just Neiya…
She gripped her head, trying to gasp for breath as she crouched off to the side of the portal. She didn’t even need to breathe and yet, there she was, having a panic attack. She had rehearsed it over and over in her head. She would waltz- no, walk into Neiya’s realm. Yes, walk and then she would call to her, because Neiya would already know she was there. But if her portal was locked? Then she would have to call out to her and what if she never answered? What if she did answer…?
She clutched her heart, it felt like it was going to explode. Her breaths were sharp and hurt and she wasn’t exhaling. She fell to her knees. Why was this so hard? Why was she so… weak and pathetic? Angry tears fell down her cheeks. She told Gibbou that she would do this! She had to! She had to make peace with her, it was the only way or one of them… One of them could die… The mere thought sent shockwaves rippling through her body.
She didn’t want them to hurt each other anymore.
She didn’t want them to kill one another.
To hurt.
To maim.
To suffer.
To feel such sor-
Oraelia gasped as she felt the all too familiar touch of Neiya in her heart. Like thousands of little knives cutting her so deeply. It was too much to bear and then she heard the voices. Their voices.
A cool breeze blew through the Luminant, kissing the lake of radiance with a gentleness reserved for lovers. Sat on the soft sands of the beach was an Oraeliari couple. His long wings draped over his mate in a sign of comfort. Her forlorn eyes looked out over the water, oblivious to his pleas.
In a house in a tree there was another man, watching the sun dip beyond the horizon where he sat, legs hanging over the deck. He didn’t know why but he found no joy in that sight like he had before. It all seemed so… So pointless.
A woman consoled her friend, who had been so well the day before. She did not know why those silent tears flowed down her friends cheeks. Or why those tears held the hint of black in them.
A child grabbed the hand of his mother, pleading for a bedtime story, pleading for anything. A hug, a kiss- ‘Momma please’, he would say. Met with silence, met with apathy.
More and more that night of sorrow unfolded, upon the dawn of their greatest victory, they met their greatest tragedy. And all of them prayed to their Goddess when nothing else worked.
Oraelia snapped herself out of the sorrow induced lull, hands growing into fists. She had cursed them! She had cursed her Oraeliara! That- That monster! What gave her that right to do that! Her feelings of anxiety were replaced with anger, a newer sensation that felt goo-
She had cursed the Neiyari…
Hadn’t she? Well, Rhiona did but it was her by extension.
She took a deep breath and unclenched her hands. Neiya had gotten her revenge, how could she not have seen such a thing coming? And now her people paid the price, to suffer as she had suffered so long ago. What could she do? Another curse? A cure? Was it even possible?
It dawned upon her, what she truly had to do.
It was none of those things. She would not retaliate with a curse, for such a thing would never end between them. A cure would solve the flower of the problem, but not the root- even if it was possible. No, her solution had always been in front of her.
Oraelia stood and turned to face her portal. A look of determination flashed in her eyes.
It was time to see Neiya.
Bright eyed and full of determination, she stepped through the portal to the ‘Love’ goddess’ realm, into a very, very different sight. One she could hardly remember. When Oraelia had last visited Neiya, she had walked into a desolate plain with withered trees and a solitary river, save for the grove in which the goddess herself had resided. An early warning of the bleak outlook the goddess had had on love, perhaps. If that was the case back then, then what greeted Oraelia now did not bode well.
The plains were gone, replaced by jagged cliffs, hills and obsidian monoliths built in random and erratic fashion, with no logic to their construction nor any acceptance of basic geometry and physics. It was a hostile landscape, with only hints of its previous form. The river was still present, a dark blue and black affair swirling and churning like a maelstrom as it coiled over the landscape; not content to remain settled along the ground. It culminated in a waterfall that fell upwards towards the sky - into what appeared to be a roiling abyss of colours, emotions, and malice. Just looking up into the eye of the storm brought a pang of emotion, laced with spite and sadness. Yet that was not all - life now seemed to teem in the chaotic realm. Packs of dark hounds with fur like burning shadows sprinted across the landscape, trying to find refuge from the howl of the river. Silhouettes of horned women, spreading flame and fighting each other, popped up across the jagged land as well. Chaos reigned.
Oraelia could not focus on one singular thing, as her eyes wandered to all, yet she tried to retain focus. She was beyond horrified, as the realm was nothing like she remembered. So she grabbed her wrists and looked down at them, conjuring a small band of light into a ribbon. She whispered a small prayer to herself and then spoke aloud, "Neiya! Where are you? We need to talk!" she said with a loud voice.
Coils of energy arced from the river, running down along it and striking the ground in angry strikes akin to lightning. At the mouth of the river, high in the sky, a vortex began to dissipate to reveal the silhouette of another horned being - and Oraelia knew as soon as she saw her; Neiya hovered high in the air between the warped sky and the maelstrom of a river leading up to it. She looked nothing like either of their previous meetings, but was still immediately recognizable to the Life goddess.
”Talk?” her voice boomed across the realm, suspicious and sharp in tone. ”You’ve come to gloat, but I have already moved on. Struck back.” she concluded, and her shape stirred from it’s resting place in the sky. She descended down towards Oraelia slowly with graceful drifting, as behind and below her, the river crashed down on the landscape, creating lakes and riverbanks now that it was no longer being pulled into the sky.
Oraelia’s posture changed. She seemed to shrink, as if trying to become very, very small. Her display of power was, whether an act or trying to unnerve her, was having the intended results. Oraelia could not keep her eyes off of Neiya’s new form, out of the fear she would attack and she wondered why she would even want to be viewed as such. It was so… bare so… uncovered!
She blinked, trying to retain focus of herself. She had come here for a purpose and one she would now have to see through!
”You-” she said in a small voice before clearing her throat, ”You are mistaken! I never gloat over those who are suffering. I’ve come to talk to you! This has to end, Neiya, can’t you see it will bring only further pain? Please, Neiya. Please. I know there is more to you then this.” she finished, adjusting her shirt which had been buffeted by the winds.
”More to me than this?” the horned goddess demanded as she touched down a few metres away from Oraelia. ”I am just being who I am supposed to be. And I’m good at it, too. What else could there be to me?” Neiya commented, a conniving, false smile playing on her lips. Around them, creatures began to pool and gather in the shadows, drawn to the sheer power of roaming divinity.
Oraelia briefly fled her gaze to look at the gathering creatures. Figures like women, but with the intelligence of the wolves that followed them. What had she done? Oraelia looked back at Neiya. ”Is this what you are good at? Being antagonistic with Gibbou? Creating savage life and twisting landscapes?” Oraelia’s expression softened. ”Neiya, listen to me, in each of us there is more than what is seen on the surface! I know it, Neiya and I know you know this too! You don’t have to be like this, you can change! Not drowned in the sorrow of your own making.” She said.
That struck a chord with Neiya, who widened her eyes as realization dawned on her. The horned goddess stopped dead in her tracks, staring straight at Oraelia though not truly seeing her. In a short span of moments, her face went through several stages, the goddess visibly working through surprise, confusion, and finally - anger. ”Liar!” she roared with unabated fury, harking back to their previous meeting, and her arm rose to deliver her accusation as her gaze fell properly on Oraelia. ”You have no idea-... no idea what I carry! Who I am!” Despite this, the goddess remained immobile, as though the sheer fact of what was said held her back. Around them, creatures ducked further into the shadows after the goddess raised her voice, yet were clearly unafraid enough to linger despite the volatile conditions.
Oraelia braced herself and took a step forward. ”I know.” she began. ”It’s true, I don’t know another side of you, I thought I did so long ago but I was naive, Neiya.” Oraelia sighed, clasping her hands together. ”Please, I beg you Neiya. Take a deep breath. It’ll be okay, I promise. Let me help you and we can find out together.” Oraelia said, taking another step closer. She then extended out a hand towards the angry Goddess.
Golden pupils swirled like vortexes, Neiya furiously staring at Oraelia as if that would divine a deeper understanding. Her face kept a mixture of her old fury, but cracks in her armor appeared as the frown faltered and doubt flitted across her features. "I-... No… No," she uttered as she attempted to find her spirit. "I- I made my choices. I hurt Gibbou. Hurt you. This is who I am. I'm unstoppable. Powerful. Desirable. A monster. A predator." Neiya pressed her lips into a thin frown, staring at the extended hand.
Oraelia’s hand did not falter. She frowned however and said, ”You can change Neiya. You can grow. That is the beauty of life.” A single golden tear rolled down her cheek. ”Is that what you think you are? A monster? A predator? Neiya… Is this who you truly want to be? A Goddess too afraid to face the consequences of her actions? Who acts like someone she is not? Trying to fool herself? Fool the world? Neiya. It isn’t working. Please. I can help you.” Oraelia’s voice broke, hand now shaking.
The hurt in the Sun goddess' voice struck Neiya firmly, and visible distress ran over her face, washing away most of her determined anger. For a brief moment, old habits of emotional sharing seemed to call to her, and the horned goddess raised her fingertips slowly in a cautious reach for Oraelia's hand. It was not to be. Moments later, she froze in the motion, exhaling sharply before turning away firmly. "You're trying to trick me!" she exclaimed, lifting up off the ground as both her hands reached up to hold her head. "You're just-just jealous of me! Angry at me! I'm not that- I don't know… I never asked for any of this!"
Oraelia recoiled her hand as if struck. She watched Neiya ascend and did the same, but much slower. ”I am neither angry or jealous of you, Neiya.” she called out to her. ”And I would never trick you! I know you never asked for any of this, none of us did and yet, here we are. All I want is for the fighting to stop, Neiya. I want us to heal, together. Please, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out. Let me help you!”
The Sin goddess ascended higher into the sky, drifting languidly towards the center of the massive vortex that had replaced the sky, requiring Oraelia to pursue. "I showed you once, and I saw the life drain from your eyes," Neiya called, turning halfway to stare down towards Oraelia while still climbing to greater heights. "You don't understand. You don't… don't hear them. I did what I had to do. Yes, what I had to. If they won't improve, someone needs to make them. N-Nothing has changed!"
Oraelia continued on after her, expression bleak. ”Neiya, stop! I’m not afraid! I do understand! I understand because I changed!” Oraelia called out after her. ”Let me show you a different way! You don’t have to force anyone to improve! We naturally improve by growing and learning from our mistakes! Everything changes! Everyone changes! Please just listen to me!” she said, with angry tears falling down her face. What was she going to do if Neiya wouldn’t listen?
But her doubts didn't have time to take root.
"Mistakes?" Neiya began to slow down until she came to a full stop, hovering in the sky halfway to where she had first appeared. Eventually she turned around to face Oraelia properly, her eyes raw with the same hurt that was innate in her base form, but maintained a certain hostility under it. "So I'm a mistake? Just like Cadien, you refuse to see my side. You have already decided what's good for me."
Oraelia came to a stop across from Neiya. ”I never called you a mistake. Don’t twist my words.” she said in a calm tone. She then crossed her arms over her chest and eyed Neiya down. ”Do you really think I’ve decided what’s good for you, Neiya? This entire time I’ve asked you to talk to me, that we can work through your issues together and you have refused. I am a Goddess of Life, I don’t make judgements, I don’t decide fates. I help people grow. I want to help you, please don’t do this.”
The horned goddess scoffed and swept a hand in front of her dismissively. "You don't decide fates because you are weak. Naive. Trusting." she debated with resurging irritation. Golden pupils fixated on Oraelia as Neiya began to drift closer despite her previous attempted escape. "Mortals walk over each other, steal each others' things, and break hearts without a thought. They will do the same to us if allowed. You think I can change? You are blind to why I am this way." Her voice had changed to a sharp and hostile tone, wholly unsuited to her form; but very reminiscent of their previous encounter.
Oraelia looked away from Neiya’s gaze, her posture becoming tense- small. She knew she was naive but… Was she really… Weak? Perhaps she was. Perhaps she had always been. She just tried to help people… Of course she was trusting. One had to be if the world were to become a better place. Golden tears pooled in her eyes as she turned to look at Neiya with reluctance. ”Perhaps I am blind.” she whispered. ”But as blind as I am, I can still see that you are wrong. You look at mortals and see them for all the bad they can be, and you neglect everything about them that makes them good. You do this to yourself Neiya! Because you are afraid. Afraid to feel any different.”
A guttural vocalization akin to a growl rumbled up from the hostile love goddess, and she sprung forward through the sky like a pouncing Leon, arms outstretched as she reached straight for Oraelia in her sudden charge. Her tactics certainly hadn't improved since last time. "I'll show you afraid, cur! You think I want this?! I hate it! I hate them! I hate you!" she shouted angrily as she dove forward, gripping the Sun Goddess’ arms firmly. Oraelia let out a gasp. Why hadn’t she moved? She could have. The realization stark in her mind, but fear had consumed her and now she was in Neiya’s grasp. Without delay, Neiya's eyes turned black and released the torrent of her experiences through their shared contact. Like before, the flood of negative emotions was all powerful and like a dark whirlpool, Oraelia’s light began to fade down it’s crushing despair. She could do nothing. For she was nothing. Neiya was right.
She was weak.
Why was she so weak?
She saw the mortals she had tried to help, flooded with sorrow, heartbreak, lust, and sin. So much sin. Maybe Neiya was right. Maybe mortals never cared. Maybe they couldn’t care. Maybe they had fallen into their own vices because they never knew anything else. Maybe… Maybe life was just some big joke.
Her vision began to fade, eyes going dim, yet she looked upon Neiya’s face and all she felt was pity. Why did Neiya make her feel this way? Why did she inflict such emotions on her? Why did she want to hurt her again? Why couldn’t she just see there was another way?
Why couldn’t she just be love!
Oraelia gasped.
She had been wrong. She had judged Neiya the moment she had entered her realm. For all she ever wanted Neiya to be, was what she had viewed her as, that fateful day in Antiquity. No, that glimpse upon her birth. Oraelia had wanted her to be as she had thought her as, a good and true Goddess of Love and she had wanted to change her to be like that. To be like… Herself.
No matter how much she wanted that to be reality, it wasn’t. She had been a fool.
How could she Judge her?
It wasn’t her place, she was the Goddess of Life. She was meant to… She was meant to watch her life be abused, twisted, broken? She was meant to watch growth and love shatter, murdered, defiled? Was she really letting herself be abused by Neiya again? Like she had abused Gibbou and countless mortals? Her Aiviri?
Was this her life? Was she so weak and powerless to stop cruelty and crimes against it?
No…
It was her right to Judge.
Her eyes bloomed into yellow suns. Clarity washing away the fog of despair. Oraelia grasped Neiya’s arms with her own, her eyes staring deep into her soul as her face relaxed. Then her form began to change. Her golden hair was leached of it’s luminous color, becoming black as the abyss. No longer running down the length of her back, but ending in curls around her shoulders. Her face became impassive, uncaring. Like a stark reflection of Neiya herself. Her eyes retained the same golden color but the kindness that was so often seen inside was replaced with scrutiny. Even her clothes changed, to that of a simple black dress, cut deep in the middle to reveal a tattoo of gold, the same color and glow as her eyes. The pattern faintly resembled a heart with wings, like a constellation, and spread along her arms and legs but stopped upon her chest and rose no further.
She opened her mouth to speak and her voice reflected that of her form, cold but bitter. ”You are not the only one who suffers. Let me show you my pain.”
She began to pour her own emotions and memories into Neiya. Starting upon the very first day she had seen life taken from the world. Before any had been born but the sun and moon. It had almost been unbearable. Then the memories shifted to the tornadoes in her prairie and the devastation they wrought. Then to the Aberrant and her guilt, her failure. Then it jumped to her being ripped out of the world, Lucia’s crying face the last thing she saw. Then to an eerie reflection of Neiya doing the same as she was doing now and how deep it cut her, how long she had anguished in that misery. Then she showed her the pain of Genesis dying and the years of denial. There was a brief flash of all-consuming joy, but it was quickly repressed. To see Gibbou fall time and time again. To the very moment Neiya had grasped her again. Misdeeds and misery.
”Yet.” Oraelia stated, changing the chord of her emotions to that of love and happiness. She was brushing Genesis’ hair, playing games, watching her grow. Hugging Gibbou, being proud of her, doing anything for her. Seeing Lucia and Sanya, Neiya’s own creation, in a love that grew deeper everyday. Then Oraelia showed her mortal love. The small grasp of a newborn, a first kiss, the petting of a Joyf. Acceptance, happiness and joy. The bad was there, ever present, for without it, how could one appreciate what they had? The memories faded and reality swept back in.
”I‘ve learned to not let it consume me.” She finished but then continued, ”Unlike you, Neiya. You fail to realize that love is neither one side or the other, but both. Working together. Your judgment is not sound.”
Neiya, who had reacted with no more than a sharp breath and hostile staring at the grand change taking place before her at first, now stared in apparent awe at the reborn shape that was Oraelia's new form. Her eyes held a distant and morbid fascination with the sun goddess words and mannerisms, but first and foremost her gaze tinged with a serenity that had been rare for the goddess recently. Her rage was quelled almost instantly as pain and anguish was shared, and for a tranquil moment amidst Oraelia's resurgence, Neiya appeared taken with sorrow and sympathy. She had truly spoken her language. That changed with the shift in narrative. When pleasant memories rushed through her, that expression twisted to bewilderment and finally fear. Her irises returned to their golden shape, the dark swirl dying out as the Love Goddess relented in her own assault at last.
That initial bewilderment turned to a restless discomfort, as her sorrowful expression washed away in favour of a growing tension quickly turned to anxious worry, and finally fear. Her nails, which had dug into Oraelia’s arms, now released their grips, and Neiya squirmed to try and wrest free. ”N-No,” she cried fervently, shying away from Oraelia’s visions. ”Stop this! I’ve never-.. It’s a lie! An oasis in the desert! Life cannot be like this-... I didn’t choose this!”
Oraelia did not let go of her. She tilted her head, never moving her gaze away from Neiya’s. ”A lie? No, Neiya. Even an oasis can be found by those who are lost. I realize now that life is a struggle. They crawl over one another, those mortals you hate, striving for greatness and falling time and time again. Most never rise. But those that do, those that endure the hardships, that find their oasis, they thrive. They grow.” Oraelia breathed, releasing Neiya from her grip and then touched a slender hand to her cheek. She used her finger to rub under Neiya’s eye. It was as if Oraelia was searching for something, so fixated was her eyes upon Neiya. She then spoke again, ”The only thing they get to choose is whether or not they keep pushing forward. That’s how the world works. Now you must choose, because no one can help you unless you first help yourself. This, is the judgment you sought.”
Neiya breathed unevenly, her eyes welling up with shimmering dark tears. Her features contracted into an unsteady frown, the Love Goddess doing her best to keep her usual haughty demeanour in the face of an onslaught of repressed emotions, doubts and fears. "All I wanted was peace and quiet," she admitted in a subdued moment of serenity. "Every voice is a creature in pain. A voice unable to make itself heard. But I hear them."
Oraelia said nothing, her eyes growing soft. Instead, she moved her hand to the back of Neiya’s head, and pulled her into an embrace upon her chest. She then used her other hand to wrap the Love Goddess in a squeeze of warmth. She then spoke in a more relaxed voice ”I know.”
The horned goddess remained placid in the embrace, golden eyes closing as she was simply held. A few moments later, she quivered gently in Oraelia's hold, and released a few silent sobs. For a long time, she seemed to simply linger, silently crying in another's embrace. Her form acted reactively to her mood, and her skin slowly twisted pale, while black horns began to sprout from her form. The goddess slowly shifted back to her traditional form, pale and sorrow-tinted.
When Neiya spoke, it was sullen and guarded. Still it appeared to be a request, if only because her tone wasn't demanding. "Show me."
There came a soft breath from Oraelia, and a warm finger found its way to Neiya’s cheek again. The moment they touched, Oraelia showed her memories she was ashamed of, that she tried to repress and forget. It all started with a simple berry. Vivid in color, joyous in taste and destructive. She ate them to forget the pain, to forget her life and her purpose. All she wanted to do was be happy. That’s all. No more pain. The memories shifted to what she did. Giving the humans of the highlands eternal fields of food, failing to see what grew within them. To arm monsters who destroyed her city with a weapon and even giving a Neiyari tools he could use to live forever. The reasons were there, induced by a sense of wanting to do right. Having to help, no matter the cost. Needing to be useful. She had caused so much pain.
The memories faded away.
”I know…” Oraelia repeated with a solemn tone in her voice. It was enough to make Neiya return the embrace properly, the horned goddess exhaling sharply. Oraelia made no sound, but returned the embrace all the same.
Neiya breathed a forlorn and deep breath, as if to steel herself for what was to come. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I… It just… everything happened so fast, it was… I had to try. I… I think I'm broken, Oraelia. Being in charge feels so good. So easy. As.. as long as I don't think about it."
”It’s alright, Neiya. I forgave you.” She paused, then asked, ”Can I show you something?”
There was quiet for a time, a weird tranquility amidst the raging torrent above and the strange calls of animals in the realm below. Eventually Neiya simply nodded against Oraelia's form, remaining in the embrace.
There was a flash of light and the two found themselves in another memory. One that Oraelia held close in the days of her youth. The Sun Goddess stood before humans, mourning the dead. A baby cried and she asked to see what they had seen. A simple touch, no more, no less. It rocketed them to the past, there beside the river.
A whirlpool formed.
Something, no- Someone rose from the water.
For a brief second, there she was. Neiya.
But it was not the Neiya any would know. For that Neiya existed for the briefest of moments, untouched and unrefined. Her form was simply that of a young woman, shouldered with impossible burdens. Before the pain came. So visible across her face and from the maelstrom of emotion that followed.
Oraelia’s voice ushered in a calming aura as the memory played out further. ”I latched myself onto that form of you. That perception I had fabricated in my head was of Love and how I thought it should be. I stared at the other side, right in the face, and I could not comprehend it at the time. I wanted you to be as I wanted you to be. But that was wrong of me, I see that now.” The memory began to fade away, turning the land white before reality ushered forth. Oraelia talked more, stroking the back of Neiya’s head with gentle fingers. ”Being in charge is difficult, even for a god. Even if it feels good, we often lose ourselves. But I can say with confidence, you are not broken. Lost, perhaps. Still trying to find your way. Like I am. Like many of us are.” She paused as if in thought. ”I want you to know that I believe she still exists somewhere deep down, Neiya. But I won’t change you, for that is a decision you will have to make for yourself. All I ask right now, is we stop our fighting. Please… No one needs to get hurt anymore.” Oraelia finished in a murmur.
What Neiya thought of the vision she didn't seem keen to share, simply remaining under Oraelia's vigil. Coaxed into a response by the life goddess' words, she offered a simple commitment. "...Okay." For a time that was all she wished to say, until guilt, restlessness or doubt pushed her to elaborate. "I'd like to try."
Oraelia let out a soft sigh, her embrace growing warmer as she rested her cheek upon Neiya’s forehead. There was more silence between the two, but unlike before, it was blissful. ”Thank you.” Oraelia at last said. ”That would make me very happy, Neiya. Yet... There is… There is one thing I think that needs to be done this day as well. What I did to the Neiyari… I’m sorry. Had I known what Rhiona was planning I would have stopped her and as such, it welcomed a challenge. Even now I can feel it spreading… So I ask you, Neiya- Might we forgive our curses as a start?”
The horned goddess opened her eyes to look up at Oraelia, the ordinarily tall love goddess seeming to shrink as they drifted in the sky. A glittering in her eyes remained, emotion raw and thoughtful in her gaze as she pondered Oraelia's words; even now a wounded kernel of doubt lingered in every mannerism. A built in fear of being betrayed worn plainly on her sleeve. "You will allow the Neiyari to flower again? Even though you hate them?"
Oraelia tilted her head as she looked at Neiya in return. The Goddess then resumed her caressing of Neiya’s hair and spoke, ”Oh Neiya… I don’t think I ever truly hated them. I was distraught upon their birth but…” Her voice seemed to die a little before resuming, ”Even they can change, I think. If they are shown a better way. Both the Oraeliari and Neiyari are… Incomplete. You know this as well as I. They function as they are but they could be so much more. Dooming the Neiyari would destroy any chance of seeing that future. So yes, I will allow them to flower again. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me and the Oraeliari.”
Neiya raised her gaze to search for Oraelia's eyes, her own burning with a morose guilt. The pacified love goddess breathed sharply, as if trying to escape the tension of decision and responsibility. Still, Oraelia’s words seemed to pace the way for even the most self-centered of goddesses to acquiesce. "...Yes. I can… I mean, I do. I forgive you." Neiya raised her own hand and placed it against the changed life goddess' chest. It was another flush of emotion, of guilt and pain, but considerably more reserved and contemplative than any previous assault. Around them, a melody woven into the storm of the vortex in the sky seemed to dissipate and dissolve, quietly fading into oblivion. The Sorrowsong vanished, withdrawn from reality.
Oraelia closed her eyes at the touch, a small smile forming on her lips. She took a deep breath and then looked at Neiya again. ”Thank you… It is done.” She then looked around the sky and gave a small, but peaceful sigh. ”I always thought your realm was beautiful, in its own way.” Her gaze lingered on the multitude of beasts so far below before she looked back at Neiya, cupping on her hands to the Love Goddess’ cheek. ”It’s not my place to say what goes on within another’s realm but… Perhaps you should give them a chance to choose their own fates?” she cooed.
Neiya seemed to consider the words and her gaze fell briefly, the sensations passed on to Oraelia mingling with a primal, petty shame. "I've never been pleased with it. Nothing is like what we left." She murmured sullenly, glancing down towards the ground below herself. "I've never created anything of my own before. Even these… were a mistake."
With a gentle pull, Oraelia brought Neiya’s face back to her. ”The only mistakes we make are ones where we don’t try hard enough. When we give up.” She gave another small smile and then took Neiya’s hand within her own, causing the love goddess to widen her eyes in passive alarm. ”Come. I will help you.” And Oraelia began to guide her down. Neiya breathed unevenly, following Oraelia like an uncertain visitor in her own home, gaze fixed on the goddess.
Below, animals that had gathered began to scatter as the shapes in the sky grew closer. The bipedal creatures were horned women in the colors of the rainbow, pale imitations of their creator. Hounds of shadow slinked back into the crevasses of the jagged landscape. They appeared to fear the mere presence of the divine, perhaps not without cause. The two Goddess touched down on a flat rock that overlooked the horned women. Oraelia gave Neiya’s hand a squeeze as she stood next to her. ”How and why they came to be does not matter now. What does matter is how their future might look. It can be shaped and added to. I suggest… For a start… Give them the gift of intelligence?” she asked in a soothing, but reassuring voice.
Neiya peered at the life goddess as though she had suggested something truly new and riveting, her gaze soon twisting to regard the scattering creatures. She closed her raw eyes, drawing a long and heavy breath. As she exhaled, an eldritch whisper carried on the wind, imperceptible to all but the divine. A call to awaken and ascend, setting alight a thousand minds at once. All about the jagged landscape, something slowly changed in the bipedal creatures, a renewed and deliberative caution with which to perceive the world. Question and curiosity.
Oraelia watched with humble curiosity. ”Very good Neiya. You see? You created them all by yourself. Take pride in that accomplishment.” She spoke in a whisper.
Neiya glanced back to Oraelia, her expression of doubt and guilt growing to a taut, thin frown. She turned back towards the landscape and lifted her free hand. From her fingertips coiled ripples of divine power, dusting the landscape and coating the newly awakened creatures. One by one, their eyes brightened and produced the same soft glow as Neiya's own, hiding their pupils behind red, blue, yellow or green. It seemed to have an immediate effect on them, as the horned creatures seemed to panic and view their surroundings with renewed fascination in equal measure. "...Something to help them choose… she justified morosely. A few among the creatures appeared to approach the two, kneeling and offering their implicit worship.
”Ah, I see.” Oraelia mused. She then did the same as Neiya, raising her free hand and waving it over them. The power that shot forth rippled and pulsed, entering their hearts by unseen currents. Most stood taller, their postures reflecting the change. ”Something to help them act.” Oraelia said. ”I hope you won’t mind.” she turned to Neiya.
Neiya watched the change unfold in her creations, then turned to regard Oraelia. "...No, I don't mind." Her hand moved to touch the life goddess' cheek as she turned halfway to face her, demanding but without the threatening imposition she usually carried herself with. "You truly believe all things can change, don't you?"
Oraelia pressed herself into the touch and stifled a breath. ”For better or for worse… Yes.” she confided. ”I do.”
For but a moment the horned goddess appeared to smile, brief and hard to see but still a genuine reaction to the words. Neiya leaned forwards towards the new and altered Oraelia, gaze falling over her form in tempered curiosity. Finally, her scrutiny fell on the sun goddess' face, as she leaned in to touch her own forehead against Oraelia's. "...Naive." she muttered softly.
Oraelia’s lips turned into a smile. In that new form, it was rather mischievous and knowing. She closed her eyes and took in the moment between them, arms and hands wrapping around the love goddess to embrace her once more. ”I know.” She breathed at last.
Neiya remained motionless for a long time, simply watching the life goddess. Her eyes roiled with purpose, golden flashes in their irises sparking like small eruptions of flame. Eventually she sighed a quiet "You should go."
Oraelia hesitantly pulled away, her smile fading. Doubt crossed her face but she nodded. ”It was… Good to see you Neiya. If you need me, please, don’t be a stranger.” Oraelia gave another nod, then walked past her, lingering for a moment by her side before continuing on. The portal was in view and as she walked, the creatures and beings of Neiya’s realm parted. As she arrived at the portal, Oraelia turned around to gaze upon Neiya again, and found the pale goddess watching her wistfully from afar. She almost raised her hand, but stopped, then stepped through leaving the realm of sorrow behind.
Unbeknownst to her, her departure inspired the same in several curious young horned creatures, eager to see what the world had to offer.
Oraelia is super nervous about going to see Neiya. Then she hears all the prayers from her Oraeliari about the curse Neiya has wrought. Feeling guilty and now full of determination she goes to Neiya’s realm and finds it really chaotic when she arrives. Neiya eventually shows up yelling in her succubus form and the two begin a back and forth of pleas and shouts. Oraelia is trying real hard to get through Neiya’s emotional armor and she is succeeding but things take a turn and Neiya flies up into the air, given chase by Oraelia. More things are said and Neiya gets upset so she does the same thing she did when they first met, and conveys an emotional flood upon Oraelia. Oraelia gets super duper depressed and wonders why she is so weak.
She has a bit of an epiphany during their grasp and takes on a new form. One of Judgement. She then grasps Neiya by the arms and shows her all her pain, then love. This shocks Neiya and she settles down, allowing Oraelia to break through to her. Instead of beating Neiya down further, Oraelia does the opposite and ends up embracing her, showing her lowest point- her time high as a kite with joy berries. Neiya then realizes Oraelia does understand her and she becomes more open to change as they continue to talk and make up. And to further end the fighting between them, they agree to undo the curses they set in the Luminant to foster peace.
Oraelia then convinces Neiya to help her creatures in her realm and she does so, bestowing intelligence upon the furies as well as both of them giving them abilities. They then depart reluctantly and some Furies leave Neiya’s realm as well.
Oraelia 5/5
-5MP For Judgment Domain
0MP The fertility curse upon the Neiyari in the Luminant has been broken.
-2DP Towards Punishment. (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies have been imbued with the essence of Judgment. They are capable of punishing those who have sinned in the name of the Goddess by physical immolation. This right has been granted to them and etched into their souls by divine mandate. They only punish those who commit immoral acts decreed by Oraelia and only if there is no other way. Given their other gifts, they fill a role that most species are unable to.
-2DP Towards Repentance (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies have also been given another ability through Judgment. In order to carry out a punishment and to temper their own rage, Oraelia has given them an inclination for repentance. They are capable of steering wayward sinners onto the path of redemption by conveying emotional understanding for one’s wrongs and misdeeds.
-1DP Blessing of Compassion. To further reduce their rageful tendencies, Oraelia has blessed the first generation of furies with a greater sense of compassion for other life.
0/0
Neiya 5/5
0 MP - The Sorrowsong curse on the Oraeliari in the Luminant has been dispelled.
1 MP - Uplifted the Furies to sentience.
2 MP - (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies have been imbued with exceptional sight, and are able to pick out living creatures in darkness as though it was daytime. Inanimate objects are mere contours and silhouettes, like regular darkness.
2 MP - (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies speak the same divine language as their creator, and transcend mortal language barriers. Their words are understood by all but the most ignorant, and they understand all who speak a mortal tongue.
2 DP - (Confer an Extraordinary ability) - Furies have been granted the ability to perceive sin. Particularly debauched mortals appear tinged in a color reflecting their sins, and Furies can concentrate to bring these auras out of most people, to identify their vices.
1 DP - Taught Furies about the concepts of friendship, love, betrayal, sin and virtue.
1 DP - Taught Furies about conflict and the idea of war.
1 DP - Assaulted Oraelia with some sweet sad emotion juju.
Gebu's light was small, but a thin crescent so far away in the night sky. It painted the land dark, with moonlight coming through the clouds. Perhaps it would rain after all, but Zayd did not care at the moment. His father’s words haunted him, filling his head with such frustrating rage. So he ran away from his home, past the fields and gardens and off into the valley of his youth. A place that was even more familiar to him then home, where his siblings and cousins played, where he met Elena. But that was years ago. Now it was barely used except for the occasional game of hide and seek with the young ones and sparring practice with his brothers. That was where he was headed, down into the valley. More of a large cut in the land, like a giant of old had come along and scooped up the dirt and rock and threw it far away into the sea. That was what baba had said anyway, he was one with many stories and it seemed, some secrets.
There was a cave down at the bottom of the valley, large enough to walk in and wide enough to stay for the night. It was also where they kept some old dull swords and firewood. Though the supply probably wouldn't last him the night. It had, once upon a time, been a place where they had sat and watched a mighty storm pass. The wind had gotten so strong that Imraan had fallen onto a sharp rock, cutting his arm open. That was the first time he had seen Saban act so serious. Zayd cracked a grin at the memory of them huddled around a fire, retelling stories from baba as the storm calmed down. Those were the good days, before his fateful adventure. Now his brothers got to go off and be soldiers, making names for themselves. As his father said. He growled and shook his head. It should have been him! Saban had a life here, as the eldest son. He was not the soldier type, he-he loved to make pottery and use dyes to give them stories. He could die.
Saban could die and it would be his fault.
As he neared the rock face that held the entrance of the cave down below, he looked for the path down, giving little care to the thicket of twisting vines and grasses, overgrown by neglect that grabbed and cut him. He pushed his way through grunting as sticky barbs caught on his clothing and his frustration only grew as he got snagged on sticks in the dark. Yet he knew what to look for, a very large tree root that had grown out of the side of the dirt and over the edge, so he kept going. Thick vines had sprouted from it that twisted back into the dirt to survive and they made a misshapen path down. The drop itself wasn't far by any means, but a fall in the dark could be deadly. Wouldn’t that be great?
His hands found what he was looking for at last and without waiting, he began his descent. The air was turning cool as the nightly chorus of spring peepers made their calls. Something flew past his head, followed by a small 'squee' and Zayd almost lost his grip on the roots. He took a deep breath, face relaxing as he regained his composure, then kept going. When his feet touched the soft ground, he sighed in relief knowing that the hard part of the journey was over. Now it was just making a fire with what he could see and find...To make a larger fire. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance but a flicker caught his eye.
Before him sat the cave, it’s mouth like a black abyss, but farther in he could see a light flickering across the cave walls. He squinted, then rubbed his eyes making sure the darkness wasn’t playing tricks on him. No, the light was still there. He felt his heart begin to beat faster as questions entered his mind. Who could be out here? One of his cousins? Someone else? Now he had a decision to make, keep going and find out or turn back and go home.
He frowned. The darkness had set in, making it back home would be a challenge that would take him far too long. Caution, that was what he needed. He rummaged around the area for a suitable stick and when he found one that was strong enough to wield, he crept forth. He had no idea what he was going to find, or even why he was doing it. His mother would call him a reckless fool, his father would also call him a fool but baba… Baba would have called him brave.
He’d show them. If this was some vagabond or criminal, he’d show them just how capable he was! Even if he couldn’t talk, that didn’t mean he was less brave. He’d show them all, especially his father. His grip tightened and his brow narrowed.
As the light source grew, he could make out it was behind a low wall on the cave floor, where behind it, the cave got lower. It was a good place to sleep, as a fire would reflect off the rocks and warm someone cold up further. As he neared the wall, he crouched, feeling energized. Like he could strike and take down a bull. But that only masked his uneasiness. Was it fear or anticipation that he felt with each slow step?
Something rustled behind the wall and he froze mid step. There was then a banging of something, then silence. Zayd brought his foot down quietly as he waited for the noise to continue but it never did. Taking a deep breath, he moved forward and reached the wall. There he leaned against it and very slowly peered over to see a very strange sight.
A figure wrapped up in a brown cloak sat huddled next to a dying fire, hood obscuring their face. Gloved hands were cautiously holding a skewered stick over the flame. The smell of something burnt filled his nostrils and Zayd grimaced. He had no idea what they were cooking but knew they weren’t doing a good job. The figure turned his back to him as they rummaged through a sack behind them, giving Zayd the opportunity to crane his neck over a little more. He could see a makeshift bedroll and a long stick with a whittled point. He also caught a glimpse of red. Between the cloak and a gloved hand, he could see skin. Why was it red? A trick of the light perhaps?
They turned around and Zayd ducked, cutting his hand on a protruding rock and breaking the tip. For a split second his lips curled in pain before the rock hit the ground, and his pain was forgotten. There was quiet now, he could hear his heart beating fast. What did he do? What did he do! Could he run for it? Could he fight them? His early thoughts about showing everyone just how capable he was seemed to drain away.
He took a gulp and then ran.
Before he even took three steps, he felt something whack him in the leg and he fell forward. His hands took the brunt of the blow, but it only agitated his cut further. His face contorted into pain and he flipped over to see the hooded figure holding their spear in one hand and a long, polished knife in the other. His eyes went wide and panic took him. He was not brave. He was a fool! A stupid fool! A dead fool!
He began to back away but grimaced again his cut hand touched the floor. He cradled it and did what he could to back up as the hooded figure watched him. Then with speed the figure ran at him and placed the spear point at his chest, hovering over it poised for the killing blow.
Zayd froze, eyes going wide. This was it. This is how he died. All he felt was dread. The terror of knowing his life would be unfulfilled.
“Why-” The being spoke in a voice like honeydew, “Why you come?” Simple sounding words, accusatory and agitated. Zayd exhaled, maybe he wasn’t going to die just yet. But… Now for the hard part. How would he communicate?
“Answer!” She said pressing the point closer to his chest. It had to be a woman. There was no way any man could have a voice like that. But he had been wrong before. What a silly thought to have in such a situation.
He raised his hand slowly and then shook it, pointing to his throat.
“No… Speak?”
He nodded his head and then opened his mouth to show her he had no tongue.
A small gasp came from under the hood.
“No tongue?” She said rhetorically. “Who cut?” She then asked, removing the spear tip from his immediate chest.
Zayd frowned and looked away. How could he even begin to tell that story?
“Hm. Is okay. Come to take?” She questioned, once again putting the spear tip closer.
The sudden change brought Zayd back to himself and he shook his head and hands in frantic succession. Why would she be taken?
Her hooded head shifted to his cut hand. It was at that point she dropped the spear and crouched next to him, inspecting his hand. Her hood still obscured her face but Zayd knew just because he couldn’t see her, that didn’t mean she couldn’t see him. He needed to play it cool and what… What was she doing?
She brought a hand to her mouth and a moment later a glove was falling from her hood to the cave floor. A slender hand was revealed, colored red with veins of green. It took him a moment to realize just what he was looking at, but then her flesh touched his and he recoiled slightly. Her hands were unnaturally soft, almost like a… Like the bud of a new leaf…
She removed her other glove in the same fashion and her grip on his hand tightened as she used her fingers to feel his wound. He squinted as pain jolted through him.
“It alright. No hurt.” She spoke as if she wasn’t really paying attention to him, but more of an afterthought. “Cut deep. Will mend.”
Her words confused him but before he could try to protest, his hand became very itchy. He breathed out through his nose and looked to see her hands cupping his. Whatever she was doing felt wrong but the itchy feeling dulled and before her knew it, two crimson eyes were staring at him.
Deep maroon, glowing dim beneath her hood. She faced him now and asked, “Better?”
Zayd could hardly take his eyes off of the strange sight, his face going blank as his thoughts rushed to him. He blinked and looked over to his cut hand… But it was no longer cut. Just stained with drying blood. He flexed his fingers and felt no pain, then feeling her eyes still on him, he looked back to her.
She was sitting on her knees, removing her hood. Zayd’s mouth slowly parted in a state of awe as he looked upon her face. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before.
Human-like in appearance, that was where the similarities ended. It was not skin that made up her narrow face and sunken cheeks, or her dainty nose set above those thin lips of red. He gulped. That face of hers was crimson in color, with light green around her almond shaped eyes that seemed to accentuate her features. The green was around her lips as well but fainter. Even her hair, if one could call it hair, wasn’t like his- but it acted in the same way. Like… Leaves. Long leaves of crimson red and veins of the same green upon her face. Her leaf hair went down past her shoulders and looked… Matted? Or unkept? It was hard to tell. So that was what she was… There was no flesh and skin but leaves and plant. She was… She was one of them!
She glared at him, then pointed at his hand. “Better?”
He nodded yes in quick succession and tried to force a smile but it didn’t feel right. She could tell as a frown pursed her lips.
“Scared?” She asked.
He shook his head. He wasn’t scared, just taken aback.
“No scared?” Her lips tugged into a grin. “Should be. I dangerous. I fierce.”
He froze at those words, taking her in again. There was something about her demeanor that made him crack a genuine smile.
She glared again and stood up.
“Go.”
His smile died and Zayd’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
She brandished her spear again and slammed the butt on the ground.
“You go!”
He backed away, getting to his feet. It was then he saw just how small she was. She only came up to about the base of his neck. Even moreso, her arms were so thin and she looked gaunt. How was that even possible? She took a step forward and pointed the spear at him, her eyes glaring at him. How could such a dark color be so alive?
He began to back away but on a hunch, he stopped and pointed at her. She froze in her tracks, unsure of what to do. Zayd then pointed at his stomach and mouthed the word, ‘hungry’ to her. She looked confused at first, but as he mouthed the word again and rubbed his belly, he could see her face begin to light up with hopeful recognition. He took a step forward but that seemed to draw a line as she scowled.
“No! I fine! You go!” She shouted with anger.
Not wanting to upset her anymore, Zayd turned and left, glancing over his shoulder to see those crimson eyes watching him fade into the darkness. As soon as he exited the cave, he went to the side and sat down up against the rock face. The night was cool now and without a fire, he would not be sleeping well. He could return home but… His thoughts were on her. She had helped him but why?
And those words of hers… Zayd knew where those came from. Even if she wasn’t a human, it was pride that drove help away. Wanting to do everything by yourself. He felt ashamed in that moment, thinking of earlier back at home. He knew she was probably starving but… Didn’t plants grow best in sunlight? So that meant… She was doing this to herself? Why?
He didn’t have time to ponder that question, for from the brush came the snapping of a branch and a low rumble that reverberated into his chest. Zayd shot up in an instant, heart beginning to beat fast. From across the ravine’s floor, upon a low cut ledge sparsely overgrown and illuminated by Gebu, he saw two smoldering eyes. Like burning coals. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and Zayd felt an overwhelming urge to run. It growled again and another set of eyes appeared next to the first.
The first emerged from the undergrowth, a creature like an inky black mass that… Moved. Rippling with veins… Like snakes of pulsing red. It’s snout parting to reveal sharp, barb-like teeth. Black viscera drooling to the floor as steamy breath entered the night. The other emerged, looking much the same, except it was smaller.
They stood watching him. Zayd could hear his heart beating. He needed to go. Needed to run.
But it was too late for that.
For they came.
Our young protagonist is angry and runs away from home, down into a ravine that was said to be made by ‘giants’. It’s known to him where his brothers and cousins played in their youth. In the dark he arrives, knowing there is a cave with some wood inside that could be used for a fire. When he gets there he finds it already being used and in a series of unfortunate events, he gets caught after cutting his hand on a rock. A tense conversation follows with the stranger, even though he can’t talk.
She eventually reveals herself (For she was wearing a hood, duh) and Zayd is surprised by what he sees. She eventually heals him then tells him to get out. He can’t really argue but before he leaves he finds out she is hungry. Not knowing where to go he ponders some stuff and settles down outside the cave. But the sudden noise of a branch being broken jolts him awake and he comes face to face with two monsters.
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Enzayne
Goldeagle1221
wintersoldier
Cyclone
Vec
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Fetzen
Crusader Lord
Timemaster