Introduction
Historians estimate the emergence of the Khadryan race to be about one millennium ago, in the southern frozen wastes. Those who are the subjects of Khadryan lords praise their rulers and their intelligence, but those who meet them on the battlefield condemn them as demons. Confronting soldiers in opposing armies have often described the physical deformity of their face as the revealing of hellspawn through a humanoid mask. Whatever the case may be, it does not discount the tangible success of the Khadryan race to build the Inari Empire.
The Inari Empire grew with the spread of Khadryans, who appeared to be larger, stronger, more intelligent and faster humans with psionic capabilities. Nomadic tribes were beaten and captured, and intimidated and tortured until they finally consented to doing the Khadryans' bidding. We know a man named Lydnus to be the first lord in the Inari Empire, characterizing his race as brutal and calculating. That was eight hundred years ago. It would take another century for his nation to reach out from the southern arctics and begin claiming more palatable land.
There was a growing air of superiority as Khadryans examined themselves and compared themselves to humans or elves or dwarves. Lydnus himself often preached the benefits of being a Khadryan, claiming that some higher being must have sent them down to rule. Being a Khadryan grants you many perks, with some drawbacks. Physically, they appear like humans, but generally they are over six feet tall. Their veins are larger and more abundant, their heart is stronger, and they have more blood to fuel your muscles, granting them more strength. Because they have more blood, they have larger lungs to breathe more air. Their nervous system is more entwined with each muscle fiber they have, and is simply more wired to their brain, granting them faster reaction time and more bodily control. However, with these combination of biological benefits, wounds can be severely detrimental to the condition of a Khadryan. Luckily, most severe wounds can heal within two to three weeks, and up to 90% of their nervous system can heal biologically.
Their psionic minds allow them only one ability in their natural state. Khadryans have an ability to sense their environment by interpreting energy signals from matter. Generally, more powerful warriors sense larger distances. It might also be useful to know that all Khadryans are incapable of utilizing magic, and in this manner, they can't be healed or replenished by magic either.
It was important to differentiate between their natural state and their "supernatural" state in the previous explanation, because their "supernatural" state is often what earns Khadryans the label of "demons" or "hellspawn." When confronted with extreme conditions, a human might be able to list half a ton and tear the muscles in his arms by doing so, or their brain's reaction time speeds up and they can do things twice as fast. But this is truly where Khadryans are set apart from other humanoid races.
When confronted with immediate, life-threatening danger, coupled with the will to live, a grotesque transformation takes place. A dark cerulean ring forms around the dominant eye, and veins begin to bulge in the side of the head, often rooted at the same eye. But these veins not only bulge, but they glow a luminescent light orange, almost gold hue. Physical strength skyrockets and reactions happen almost instantaneously. What's most peculiar of all is that when this supernatural state surfaces, or superstate as many Khadryans call it, a being seems to gain control of one of the ancient elements; as described by Khadryans. Elements like earth, fire, air, water, and also light or dark. The most advantageous trait of this is that once someone has crossed into this superstate, it can be voluntarily However, the longer this state is held, and the more energy released while in it, the longer one will be incapacitated afterwards.
Lydnus exploited these biological advantages and handpicked an elite group known as the Provenance Guard, which still exists to this day; every ruling lord has one such group. They're Khadryans who seem to be devoid of all mortal emotion. They have infiltrated castles, kidnapped princes, and on Lydnus' order, killed his own son for befriending a dwarven king.
As Lydnus' empire grew and expanded beyond his lifetime, and the needs of its people became more diverse, the reliance on a feudal system of governing became more prevalent. In many cases, these Khadryan led city-states of the Inari Empire act more like a coalition rather than a cohesive nation. But each answered to the central city-state, inventively named Inari.
Of these city-states, the territory of Visigoth is the most powerful today. Being only eighty three years old, it has a short line of lords. It was granted to lord Garis as a fiefdom after Garis had conquered a northern human kingdom. Not ever being a ruler before, Garis organized four advisory councils to optimize agriculture, industry, trade, and the military. His son, lord Faeron did much to maintain the status quot, with woodland elves on his record of conquest. When Faeron did not have any male heirs, he looked to one of his two cousins to take the throne.
Artaz and Goraz led two quite separate lives, though they were brothers. Artaz was an adviser on the Military Optimization council. He became quite knowledgeable on strategy, war goods and manufacturing, and propaganda. Knowing of Faeron's predicament, he became quite close with the lord of Visigoth. Goraz chose to be a vigilante of sorts, though he acted within the military. He held the spirits of many soldiers in the army, but he often acted as an independent agent quelling and settling conflicts in conquered countrysides. Unlike most Khadryans, Goraz showed honorable amounts of modesty. While Goraz was the older, Faeron felt more comfortable in picking Artaz as heir to the throne.
There would be many quarrels between the brothers over Artaz's policy. Artaz sought to create something of a totalitarian state. He conscripted all Visigothic Khadryans ages ten and up into the military, regardless of gender. Brutal training to all newly enlisted Khadryans had to be undergone so that each and everyone could achieve the Khadryan superstate. Often, this "training" was senseless beating and abuse, and it wasn't uncommon that children who had become depressed died. Additionally, most propaganda against the military or the throne was destroyed, in order to keep morale for conquest up. In some cases, those who would not cease their acts against Artaz's will were imprisoned or killed. To be consistent, many religious structures from conquered kingdoms have been toppled and exiled from Visigoth. And it's not as if Emperor Kaidman, the current emperor of Inari cares as long as he gets paid a sufficient tithe.
Goraz looked upon Artaz's policies, and did his best to raise resistance against what was going to be a massive campaign for conquest; in four years, three expansionist wars had been won and there didn't seem to be any slowing down. The vigilante argued in front of the courts against Artaz on more than one occasion, claiming that the lord had committed irreconcilable crimes against the living. Ten years into his reign and four wars later, Artaz finally brandished his brother a traitor. A small revolution led by Goraz lasted about one month before Artaz squashed it and executed his brother in front of Goraz's two sons. Artaz would then take Goraz's oldest son under his wing, cultivating Olin to be the Overhead General of the Visigoth army, while Goraz's youngest child was sent to the frontlines to die as a lowly officer. Goraz's name would be erased entirely from history by Artaz; dissenting was a most punishable crime.
It is now twenty years into Artaz's lordship. His grand successes on the battlefield and the spirit of harmonious war among his people have him titled by his subjects the "Divine Lord," a title coined by a popular colonel. The few that silently hold thoughts against Artaz silently wonder if there will be a day his land will be defeated. For the even fewer that decide to act, it will be a long journey...
The Inari Empire grew with the spread of Khadryans, who appeared to be larger, stronger, more intelligent and faster humans with psionic capabilities. Nomadic tribes were beaten and captured, and intimidated and tortured until they finally consented to doing the Khadryans' bidding. We know a man named Lydnus to be the first lord in the Inari Empire, characterizing his race as brutal and calculating. That was eight hundred years ago. It would take another century for his nation to reach out from the southern arctics and begin claiming more palatable land.
There was a growing air of superiority as Khadryans examined themselves and compared themselves to humans or elves or dwarves. Lydnus himself often preached the benefits of being a Khadryan, claiming that some higher being must have sent them down to rule. Being a Khadryan grants you many perks, with some drawbacks. Physically, they appear like humans, but generally they are over six feet tall. Their veins are larger and more abundant, their heart is stronger, and they have more blood to fuel your muscles, granting them more strength. Because they have more blood, they have larger lungs to breathe more air. Their nervous system is more entwined with each muscle fiber they have, and is simply more wired to their brain, granting them faster reaction time and more bodily control. However, with these combination of biological benefits, wounds can be severely detrimental to the condition of a Khadryan. Luckily, most severe wounds can heal within two to three weeks, and up to 90% of their nervous system can heal biologically.
Their psionic minds allow them only one ability in their natural state. Khadryans have an ability to sense their environment by interpreting energy signals from matter. Generally, more powerful warriors sense larger distances. It might also be useful to know that all Khadryans are incapable of utilizing magic, and in this manner, they can't be healed or replenished by magic either.
It was important to differentiate between their natural state and their "supernatural" state in the previous explanation, because their "supernatural" state is often what earns Khadryans the label of "demons" or "hellspawn." When confronted with extreme conditions, a human might be able to list half a ton and tear the muscles in his arms by doing so, or their brain's reaction time speeds up and they can do things twice as fast. But this is truly where Khadryans are set apart from other humanoid races.
When confronted with immediate, life-threatening danger, coupled with the will to live, a grotesque transformation takes place. A dark cerulean ring forms around the dominant eye, and veins begin to bulge in the side of the head, often rooted at the same eye. But these veins not only bulge, but they glow a luminescent light orange, almost gold hue. Physical strength skyrockets and reactions happen almost instantaneously. What's most peculiar of all is that when this supernatural state surfaces, or superstate as many Khadryans call it, a being seems to gain control of one of the ancient elements; as described by Khadryans. Elements like earth, fire, air, water, and also light or dark. The most advantageous trait of this is that once someone has crossed into this superstate, it can be voluntarily However, the longer this state is held, and the more energy released while in it, the longer one will be incapacitated afterwards.
Lydnus exploited these biological advantages and handpicked an elite group known as the Provenance Guard, which still exists to this day; every ruling lord has one such group. They're Khadryans who seem to be devoid of all mortal emotion. They have infiltrated castles, kidnapped princes, and on Lydnus' order, killed his own son for befriending a dwarven king.
As Lydnus' empire grew and expanded beyond his lifetime, and the needs of its people became more diverse, the reliance on a feudal system of governing became more prevalent. In many cases, these Khadryan led city-states of the Inari Empire act more like a coalition rather than a cohesive nation. But each answered to the central city-state, inventively named Inari.
Of these city-states, the territory of Visigoth is the most powerful today. Being only eighty three years old, it has a short line of lords. It was granted to lord Garis as a fiefdom after Garis had conquered a northern human kingdom. Not ever being a ruler before, Garis organized four advisory councils to optimize agriculture, industry, trade, and the military. His son, lord Faeron did much to maintain the status quot, with woodland elves on his record of conquest. When Faeron did not have any male heirs, he looked to one of his two cousins to take the throne.
Artaz and Goraz led two quite separate lives, though they were brothers. Artaz was an adviser on the Military Optimization council. He became quite knowledgeable on strategy, war goods and manufacturing, and propaganda. Knowing of Faeron's predicament, he became quite close with the lord of Visigoth. Goraz chose to be a vigilante of sorts, though he acted within the military. He held the spirits of many soldiers in the army, but he often acted as an independent agent quelling and settling conflicts in conquered countrysides. Unlike most Khadryans, Goraz showed honorable amounts of modesty. While Goraz was the older, Faeron felt more comfortable in picking Artaz as heir to the throne.
There would be many quarrels between the brothers over Artaz's policy. Artaz sought to create something of a totalitarian state. He conscripted all Visigothic Khadryans ages ten and up into the military, regardless of gender. Brutal training to all newly enlisted Khadryans had to be undergone so that each and everyone could achieve the Khadryan superstate. Often, this "training" was senseless beating and abuse, and it wasn't uncommon that children who had become depressed died. Additionally, most propaganda against the military or the throne was destroyed, in order to keep morale for conquest up. In some cases, those who would not cease their acts against Artaz's will were imprisoned or killed. To be consistent, many religious structures from conquered kingdoms have been toppled and exiled from Visigoth. And it's not as if Emperor Kaidman, the current emperor of Inari cares as long as he gets paid a sufficient tithe.
Goraz looked upon Artaz's policies, and did his best to raise resistance against what was going to be a massive campaign for conquest; in four years, three expansionist wars had been won and there didn't seem to be any slowing down. The vigilante argued in front of the courts against Artaz on more than one occasion, claiming that the lord had committed irreconcilable crimes against the living. Ten years into his reign and four wars later, Artaz finally brandished his brother a traitor. A small revolution led by Goraz lasted about one month before Artaz squashed it and executed his brother in front of Goraz's two sons. Artaz would then take Goraz's oldest son under his wing, cultivating Olin to be the Overhead General of the Visigoth army, while Goraz's youngest child was sent to the frontlines to die as a lowly officer. Goraz's name would be erased entirely from history by Artaz; dissenting was a most punishable crime.
It is now twenty years into Artaz's lordship. His grand successes on the battlefield and the spirit of harmonious war among his people have him titled by his subjects the "Divine Lord," a title coined by a popular colonel. The few that silently hold thoughts against Artaz silently wonder if there will be a day his land will be defeated. For the even fewer that decide to act, it will be a long journey...
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Era of Bloodshed
It had only been three days since the surrender at Azurei. What its citizens new as a way of life had been trampled. In the capitol, the military had posted sentries in many of the city's vantage points and on its once busiest intersections, and there was no way out of the city's limits without going through a guard post. All of the smiths and artisans were now contracted to produce goods for Visigoth's ranks, whether it be swords, catapults or potions. Technically, it wasn't slavery, but there wasn't much of any other choice.
Today, Decree 342, or the Foreign Mobilization Decree, was being enforced; the military was obligated to draft new citizens in occupied territories into the ranks. Azurians were lined up for almost half a mile around the city's square, as tents and kiosks were set up to assimilate its next victims into the vast numbers that constituted Visigoth's army. Some groups of citizens in the line were chained and bound together, all of them captured soldiers.
Above the steps leading to Azurei's consulate building which had once governed the nation autonomously, one of its district executives was strung up, her clothes covered in her own blood. The inner flesh and veins of her neck was exposed, the trachea being ripped out it seemed.
"Ugh," an Azurian captive in line grunted, observing the displayed corpse, "it's shameful how they have Executor Fesna hung like-"
A Visigoth soldier abruptly dug the hilt of his sword into the captive's side.
"Keep your attention forward!" the swordsman commanded, "and stand straight." The soldier put his hand on the prisoner's shoulder and brought the captive to a rigid stand.
"Hagh!"
That scream. That terrified, helpless, begging scream.
Talmar wandered the city. He had sent his men out to their duties across the city and for the time being had nothing to do. But the scent of alcohol that followed him suggested at what he did to fill the time. The captain observed the omnipresent lull. In every city he had conquered and ever village he tramped through, it was always quiet after the battle. And on the trail to the next battle the soldiers were too busy trying to keep their energy up to march the next ten miles with full gear to really talk. Whatever life was supposed to be like, he destroyed it time and again.
A boy and his mother stopped at the side of the road, looking at Talmar as he passed. The drunkenly dazed, out of uniform officer dragged his oversized sword along. The mother pierced into whatever soul the man had left with a contemptuous stare. But that look seemed too familiar to Talmar; everywhere he went, someone's mother lost a son, or a husband, or even a father, or all three. He tried not to think about it.
Proceeding a bit further down the street, the captain happened upon the city square. It was bustling with soldiers and soon to be soldiers. Looking at the groups of captive Azurian fighters just had him ever so hopeful for dealing with the replacements in his unit. The men in his unit were replaced faster than the water in his flask. How empty the whole ordeal was.
While he walked by a section of the line, a discontented citizen found the will to spit onto Talmar's bare chest. His look bored into the young man's face. The captain grabbed the man's shoulder and pinched into the base of his victim's neck. He used the stunning pain coupled with the force of his hand to bring the man to his knees, holding him there for a moment while everyone watched.
"What are you gonna do? I'm not scared of you!" the Azurian yelled. Talmar used his ironclad boot to pull the man's bent leg straight, at which point he stomped as hard as he could into the man's thigh. Spectators cringed as they herd the cracking of the femur between the foot and the ground, and the man let out of shrilly scream. The officer looked over to a nearby soldier.
"You," he pointed, "take this man to a healer. He had a bad fall."
"Yes sir," the soldier saluted to the captain, his face almost stricken with panic, lest he too get on the captain's bad side. He waved over another soldier to help drag the screaming man away from the line and off to wherever the healers were.
Walking away from the noisy chaos he caused behind him, he looked up to the staircase he was about to climb. His eyes fell upon the body of the councilwoman.
"Hagh!"
Talmar clenched his fist and stared at it, lost in his own thoughts and memories. That body hung not only as a symbol to oppress the Azurian people and culture but also to remind him of his place. He looked to his sword and then at the chains that held the corpse up by the arms. Perhaps he had just enough alcohol in his system to will himself to do this.
Walking over to the pillar the decomposing body was tied down to, Talmar readied his mass of a sword. Raising it with both hands, he swung down powerfully to break the chains. Behind him, the corpse fell with a thud. Not caring to find out what the consequences were, he retreated inside to where maybe he could find a bed to sleep.
Inside the capitol building was an oasis of opulence compared to the dry, red-sand world outside of it, where everything was sunbleached and dusty and faded. Inside was a riot of different shades of blue--some of it glass, some of it lapis lazuli, and some of the color came from carefully maintained paint that coiled around the central pillars like ivy in some pattern known only to the Azurei. It had once been the home of Amaiera-Sol, of Azurei's revered matriarch. It often housed the councilwomen too, when they were around. One of them was now crumpled on the white marble steps--Khaltira Fesna of the Atakhara district. She'd always been a bold woman and her Taja were stout, sharp men unflaggingly loyal to her and the Sota-Sol above her, so naturally, she did not shy away from standing her ground when the capitol was attacked. She had died with the comfort of knowing her Sota-Sol Amiera was able to flee with her own Taja to protect her. But that hope was a false one, as the Azurei matriarch was tracked and cut down several hours later--her and every single one of her Taja.
The central room was looming, especially in the context of the low-roofed common dwellings of Azurei, which were built of red clay brick and deft hands, not carved marble and basalt blocks. For one thing, the building showed that Azurei as a nation was proud of her colors--rich indigo, silvery white, and an endless inky black. The trio of hues were everywhere inside the building with blue being the most dominant color. The air was cool inside, too. Cool, sweet, and tinged faintly with the delicate aroma of orange oil and woodsmoke. On the wall opposite the door was a chair, hardly anything more than a bench carved into the dark stone wall, but it was made with such care and love that in its simplicity it was still a beautiful thing. A simple fountain flowed like a manmade stream across the foot of it, burbling softly even still. To the left and right were many doors, each leading to halls, stairways, and rooms of many sorts including libraries full of leather scrolls, entire spaces dedicated to very involved murals depicting great warriors or powerful deities, baths, and an oddly empty room filled only with thick blue rugs piled in the center. The air in that room smelled heavily of a pungent, bitter herb, almond oil, and what could only be some kind of alcohol.
But despite the building's opulence, everything was empty. Hollow. Like the entire world had suddenly stopped one day. The entire building was unfriendly and looming, a still shadow of the power that once resided there.
----
Ridahne had struggled to not get caught. She kept to the dust-sea mostly, holed up in a burrow she made for herself hidden by tightly packed mud and clay and camouflaged by ever-shifting red sand. She kept very few possessions and it helped immensely that nobody, not even the invaders were keen on traipsing out into the dust-sea without absolute need. There were other ways to the mountains--more circuitous routes that were largely more passable due to better traveling conditions and unchanging landmarks. But eventually even she was rounded up by the invaders, who she did not like in the least bit. Still, she gave them all kinds of trouble in subversive, quiet ways. She wasn't immune to a harsh snarl and a few unkind words spoken in fast, jagged Azurian, but she preferred sneaking away equally as much. Someone somewhere must have had an idea of her former training, because she had yet to lose a limb for it. Somebody must have thought she was useful whole, and Ridahne would play that up for as long as she could. Either that, or the leaders of this new force did not yet learn that Azurei's women were more often soldiers and warriors than men. After all, it was common for other cultures to see women as people who did not fight. She didn't know. Either way, Ridahne would find every loophole she could.
She'd wandered back into the capitol building today in search of some kind of artifact, heirloom, or piece of art that was sacred to the Azurei culture--something she could save from the savages that invaded her home and keep safe until the nation found enough strength to rise up and become sovereign again. To become whole. Ridahne made it to the side of the landing at the top of the steps, somewhat concealed by a curved, painted pillar when one of them stomped up the steps like some ignorant, staggering thug and, facing Khaltira Fesna, her Sota, he raised his sword unceremoniously and--
Ridahne bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. She was no stranger to gore, but she was angry and part of her feared that he would be spiteful and cut her face. Khaltira's spirit was gone from her body now, but the disrespect of such an action would have been too much for any Azurei to bear. But no. Her tattooed face was left unmarred by his blade and instead she was cut down. The man disappeared inside and she felt the eyes of all her kin looking on. Watching.
She could bear it no longer. Ridahne dashed out from her shadowy place and scooped up Khaltira's arms, dragging her inside. Her kin watched. Silently. Inside was blessedly cool but Ridahne could feel her hands shaking already as she brought the ruined body to the center of the main room and arranged her there on the floor as if she had laid down to die herself--peaceful and graceful despite her gory wound. The tall, slim woman knelt beside her leader, dark hair kept out of her face by a rough knot of hair she tied behind her head. Her russet face was intricately tattooed in black, blue, and white and maintained with much care, unlike her clothes. She wore no shoes (Ridahne always hated them) and a very purposefully wrapped sarong-like garment that was not uncommon among women, and even men, though theirs were of a slightly different style and shape. She had a fitted half-shirt on that just covered her chest and upper back, but her skin was dusty. She also wore a thin leather harness of sorts that strapped a large, slightly curved knife to the curve of her lower back. With tears in her eyes, she began speaking softly over the body in Azurian with a ritual air about her. But she did not sob. No, Ridahne was not the type.
The central room was looming, especially in the context of the low-roofed common dwellings of Azurei, which were built of red clay brick and deft hands, not carved marble and basalt blocks. For one thing, the building showed that Azurei as a nation was proud of her colors--rich indigo, silvery white, and an endless inky black. The trio of hues were everywhere inside the building with blue being the most dominant color. The air was cool inside, too. Cool, sweet, and tinged faintly with the delicate aroma of orange oil and woodsmoke. On the wall opposite the door was a chair, hardly anything more than a bench carved into the dark stone wall, but it was made with such care and love that in its simplicity it was still a beautiful thing. A simple fountain flowed like a manmade stream across the foot of it, burbling softly even still. To the left and right were many doors, each leading to halls, stairways, and rooms of many sorts including libraries full of leather scrolls, entire spaces dedicated to very involved murals depicting great warriors or powerful deities, baths, and an oddly empty room filled only with thick blue rugs piled in the center. The air in that room smelled heavily of a pungent, bitter herb, almond oil, and what could only be some kind of alcohol.
But despite the building's opulence, everything was empty. Hollow. Like the entire world had suddenly stopped one day. The entire building was unfriendly and looming, a still shadow of the power that once resided there.
----
Ridahne had struggled to not get caught. She kept to the dust-sea mostly, holed up in a burrow she made for herself hidden by tightly packed mud and clay and camouflaged by ever-shifting red sand. She kept very few possessions and it helped immensely that nobody, not even the invaders were keen on traipsing out into the dust-sea without absolute need. There were other ways to the mountains--more circuitous routes that were largely more passable due to better traveling conditions and unchanging landmarks. But eventually even she was rounded up by the invaders, who she did not like in the least bit. Still, she gave them all kinds of trouble in subversive, quiet ways. She wasn't immune to a harsh snarl and a few unkind words spoken in fast, jagged Azurian, but she preferred sneaking away equally as much. Someone somewhere must have had an idea of her former training, because she had yet to lose a limb for it. Somebody must have thought she was useful whole, and Ridahne would play that up for as long as she could. Either that, or the leaders of this new force did not yet learn that Azurei's women were more often soldiers and warriors than men. After all, it was common for other cultures to see women as people who did not fight. She didn't know. Either way, Ridahne would find every loophole she could.
She'd wandered back into the capitol building today in search of some kind of artifact, heirloom, or piece of art that was sacred to the Azurei culture--something she could save from the savages that invaded her home and keep safe until the nation found enough strength to rise up and become sovereign again. To become whole. Ridahne made it to the side of the landing at the top of the steps, somewhat concealed by a curved, painted pillar when one of them stomped up the steps like some ignorant, staggering thug and, facing Khaltira Fesna, her Sota, he raised his sword unceremoniously and--
Ridahne bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. She was no stranger to gore, but she was angry and part of her feared that he would be spiteful and cut her face. Khaltira's spirit was gone from her body now, but the disrespect of such an action would have been too much for any Azurei to bear. But no. Her tattooed face was left unmarred by his blade and instead she was cut down. The man disappeared inside and she felt the eyes of all her kin looking on. Watching.
She could bear it no longer. Ridahne dashed out from her shadowy place and scooped up Khaltira's arms, dragging her inside. Her kin watched. Silently. Inside was blessedly cool but Ridahne could feel her hands shaking already as she brought the ruined body to the center of the main room and arranged her there on the floor as if she had laid down to die herself--peaceful and graceful despite her gory wound. The tall, slim woman knelt beside her leader, dark hair kept out of her face by a rough knot of hair she tied behind her head. Her russet face was intricately tattooed in black, blue, and white and maintained with much care, unlike her clothes. She wore no shoes (Ridahne always hated them) and a very purposefully wrapped sarong-like garment that was not uncommon among women, and even men, though theirs were of a slightly different style and shape. She had a fitted half-shirt on that just covered her chest and upper back, but her skin was dusty. She also wore a thin leather harness of sorts that strapped a large, slightly curved knife to the curve of her lower back. With tears in her eyes, she began speaking softly over the body in Azurian with a ritual air about her. But she did not sob. No, Ridahne was not the type.
Outside, a man covered in a black hooded robe and nearly seven feet tall stalked Talmar. A hooked blade of a ram dao stuck out from the mysterious man's sleeve, the hilt covered entirely. He watched from a distance at the captain's dissent, the breaking of the chains followed by his sheepish retreat into the capitol building. The man made a cautious approach to follow the officer but stopped in his tracks to watch someone carry the formerly strung matriarch's body inside. The fact that the two went in the same direction was interesting; perhaps they had colluded in something.
Watching the Azurian woman drag the body inside, and the man rolled his shoulder, eager for the eminent confrontation. As she went out of sight, the man hurried up the steps in pursuit. He stopped, hiding from her at the entrance of the building. The man, a Khadryan, could sense her traveling to the central chamber of the building. Picking the opportune moment to creep in, he sneaked to the cover of a stone that had fallen from the ceiling in the bout some days ago. He could sense the woman mumbling something, but more importantly, he could feel the running water of the fountain. How easy this would be.
The water began to move unnaturally; it pooled up on the stone before the man stepped out from his cover. His arm raised in line with the woman's neck and the water followed his command. The water became a harsh shackle around the woman's neck, and dragged her to the front of the robed man. The man looked to his victim, who now sat on her knees with the water grip clamped on her neck.
Killing her was not part of the equation, yet, anyways. He needed information, and then he could figure out what to do with her.
In the characteristically sadistic way of a Khadryan, the man placed the hook of his ram dao around the woman's neck, the width of the blade resting on her shoulder. She could see now the azure ring around his eye and the glowing blood vessels on the side of his face. He was completely bald, with no facial hair either, and as pale as could be.
The ring of water dropped and soaked into Ridahne's clothes. He studied her body and face silently before he finally opened his mouth to say something.
"What were you doing with that body?" he asked, in a surprisingly delicate voice. Clearly, he enjoyed the terrifying nature of his interaction with her.
Talmar had stumbled over to a row of cots in the library connected to the main chamber. He let his sword drop to the ground next to the nearest cot and leaned his head against the book case next to him. His head was pounding from the alcohol. Or maybe it was the fact he only got a few hours of sleep per night. Either way.
He closed his eyes, sensing his environment. Everything was still; the soldiers were either out and about or sleeping. The sense of the running water was rather relaxing. He reached further and further out with his mind until he tensed. Someone, some woman that was, had brought the mutilated body back into the capitol building. He shook it off; it was none of his business. Until he felt the water become choppy, and move erratically. And he could only think of one reason why that was.
Picking up his sword, he stepped out through the door and into the open setting of the central chamber. He saw a member of the Provenance Guard, the woman on her knees with the Guard's blade at her neck, and mutilated body in the middle of the chamber. The captain studied the situation for a moment before he decided what he wanted to do.
"Chrolus!" Talmar shouted. "What do you want?"
Watching the Azurian woman drag the body inside, and the man rolled his shoulder, eager for the eminent confrontation. As she went out of sight, the man hurried up the steps in pursuit. He stopped, hiding from her at the entrance of the building. The man, a Khadryan, could sense her traveling to the central chamber of the building. Picking the opportune moment to creep in, he sneaked to the cover of a stone that had fallen from the ceiling in the bout some days ago. He could sense the woman mumbling something, but more importantly, he could feel the running water of the fountain. How easy this would be.
The water began to move unnaturally; it pooled up on the stone before the man stepped out from his cover. His arm raised in line with the woman's neck and the water followed his command. The water became a harsh shackle around the woman's neck, and dragged her to the front of the robed man. The man looked to his victim, who now sat on her knees with the water grip clamped on her neck.
Killing her was not part of the equation, yet, anyways. He needed information, and then he could figure out what to do with her.
In the characteristically sadistic way of a Khadryan, the man placed the hook of his ram dao around the woman's neck, the width of the blade resting on her shoulder. She could see now the azure ring around his eye and the glowing blood vessels on the side of his face. He was completely bald, with no facial hair either, and as pale as could be.
The ring of water dropped and soaked into Ridahne's clothes. He studied her body and face silently before he finally opened his mouth to say something.
"What were you doing with that body?" he asked, in a surprisingly delicate voice. Clearly, he enjoyed the terrifying nature of his interaction with her.
Talmar had stumbled over to a row of cots in the library connected to the main chamber. He let his sword drop to the ground next to the nearest cot and leaned his head against the book case next to him. His head was pounding from the alcohol. Or maybe it was the fact he only got a few hours of sleep per night. Either way.
He closed his eyes, sensing his environment. Everything was still; the soldiers were either out and about or sleeping. The sense of the running water was rather relaxing. He reached further and further out with his mind until he tensed. Someone, some woman that was, had brought the mutilated body back into the capitol building. He shook it off; it was none of his business. Until he felt the water become choppy, and move erratically. And he could only think of one reason why that was.
Picking up his sword, he stepped out through the door and into the open setting of the central chamber. He saw a member of the Provenance Guard, the woman on her knees with the Guard's blade at her neck, and mutilated body in the middle of the chamber. The captain studied the situation for a moment before he decided what he wanted to do.
"Chrolus!" Talmar shouted. "What do you want?"
Ridahne was a sharp woman. She grew up quite poor and often had to hunt just to eat, and she gained an aptitude for it more so than her brother Hadian, whom was fortunately out at sea. But she had trained herself to be attentive when searching for game, listening for every shuffle of sand, every soft patter of a paw or hoof or claw, and the beats of wings in the air. Not to mention she had extensive training in the art of stealthy combat, or avoiding being seen. Even so, she was too distraught by seeing her Khaltira-Sol so maimed and decomposing to notice the soft padding of feet or the rustle of water as it sprang from the fountain like a tentacle and coiled around her neck with a force she had never known to belong to water. Water was powerful but it was changing and fluid, unlike stone. This manacle around her neck felt very much like wet stone, hard and unyielding. Her honey eyes flicked up to the invader, standing victoriously over her like he'd won some kind of duel. She saw the pleased look on his face, a cruel expression, and snarled fiercely. She did not grovel. She did not quail or shout or cry, nor did she beg. Tears still in her eyes, now turning from the salty drops of mourning to liquid fire, she held the man's gaze evenly, practically daring him to do anything to her. There was no fear in her, either. If he was going to kill her, then she would die. She would die quietly and proud. If he was going to hurt her, she knew she'd had worse. If he had other plans for her...well...she would make it very unpleasant.
He released her though, to her surprise. Now dripping wet, Ridahne did not make any move to back away, escape, or flinch. Instead she held her ground, snarling up at him with an intensity only matched by a beaten dog coming for her revenge. He asked what she was going to do with the body--as if that was any of his business! Hah! She would not offer up the practices and customs of her culture to this ur'khei, this outsider, not after what they'd done. These men could kill her people, they could take their homes and land and livestock and silver, but they would not take her culture. They would. Not.
Ridahne spat at his feet as easily and as fast as saying hello. With a defiant smile, she began speaking her own language at him. It wasn't clear what she was saying, but her face said enough; contempt, defiance, spite. She spoke the Northern tongue next, the common speech that was widely known throughout the north and even through parts of the south. "I do as custom demands," she said coldly and cryptically. No details for him, ohh no.
The first outsider, the one who cut down her Sota, re entered the great hall again, calling out to the man by name. Ridahne snarled at them both, kneeling over the purple-white body of her leader like a dog defending her litter. "Get out, ur'khei. Both of you. Leave the dead until she is dust in the air," she hissed, full of spite and venom and fire.
He released her though, to her surprise. Now dripping wet, Ridahne did not make any move to back away, escape, or flinch. Instead she held her ground, snarling up at him with an intensity only matched by a beaten dog coming for her revenge. He asked what she was going to do with the body--as if that was any of his business! Hah! She would not offer up the practices and customs of her culture to this ur'khei, this outsider, not after what they'd done. These men could kill her people, they could take their homes and land and livestock and silver, but they would not take her culture. They would. Not.
Ridahne spat at his feet as easily and as fast as saying hello. With a defiant smile, she began speaking her own language at him. It wasn't clear what she was saying, but her face said enough; contempt, defiance, spite. She spoke the Northern tongue next, the common speech that was widely known throughout the north and even through parts of the south. "I do as custom demands," she said coldly and cryptically. No details for him, ohh no.
The first outsider, the one who cut down her Sota, re entered the great hall again, calling out to the man by name. Ridahne snarled at them both, kneeling over the purple-white body of her leader like a dog defending her litter. "Get out, ur'khei. Both of you. Leave the dead until she is dust in the air," she hissed, full of spite and venom and fire.
Chrolus watched the woman as she moved away from his blade unfearfully; she seemed to not care of the consequence. Such an insubordination didn't belong in Azurei anymore, in his view. He listened as she spouted things in her native tongue, and then only grew bored as she put herself between one of her fallen leaders and her conquerors.
"You peasants are all the same. So caught up in the meaningless nuances of whatever 'culture demands.' Your culture is weak, woman. And we have no use for feeble peasants clinging to decrepit traditions," Chrolus lectured. He took some steps backwards and flipped out the whole of his sword from his sleeve so that the hilt wouldn't get caught in the wide cuff of his robe.
Talmar watched the theatrical display put in by Chrolus; so much was wrong with this. The Guard was toying with him and the woman, for no reason other than the fact that Chrolus was bored. The captain had come closer to look at the body of the matriarch he executed, wondering what Chrolus wanted to be done with the rotting corpse.
"Now begone with you!" Chrolus cast his sword wide in a wind up before swinging across the ground so the blade would swoop up into the neck of his next Azurian kill.
"Ragh!" Talmar had raised his sword and swung downward with all his might to create a wall between Chrolus' blade and Ridahne. Chrolus glared at the captain, and Talmar gazed back.
"I've killed enough people in this room. We don't need to add to the body count," Talmar declared.
All of the runoff from the fountain lifted from the ground, and speed in a circle around the perimeter of the room before closing in one large circle on the chamber's three occupants.
Chrolus still gleamed at the captain with his preys now trapped. Was Talmar doing this out of spite or had he really meant those words? Oh, how well any Khadryan could put on a show.
"Do you even know how many drinks you had today, captain?" Chrolus asked, to which his question was met with silence. "The correct answer is eleven, and it's hardly after lunch. That's a new low for you." Chrolus' words sunk in, but what affect they had on Talmar didn't seem to be discernible.
"Your... superiors are quite agitated with the continuous insubordination and overall belligerence, Talmar. Soon they will have no patience left for it," the Guard spat at the officer.
There was a tension that lingered in the air, with the two Khadryan warriors staring each other down. Most men would have been terrified by Chrolus' towering figure deformed by the Khadryan Eye. Soon enough, Chrolus powered through the locking of sword, pushing Talmar's blade up far into the air. The captain staggered back, still in an alcohol induced daze before he found the Guard's edge expertly rushed to his hip without cutting him. Chrolus looked to Ridahne, then back to Talmar.
"I have an idea," Chrolus announced. His sword began to move across Talmar's body, who stood still, not daring to tempt Chrolus for the worst. The Guard was carving a shallow cut across the stomach and chest of Talmar's body as he went on with whatever his "idea" was. "You," he said, looking to Ridahne, "are going to join Captain Talmar's unit. Which, I'll mind you, has had the highest casualty rate of any Visigothian unit since it's creation. And the first order you have, which goes for you too," Chrolus emphasized, as the circling dart of water struck into Talmar's side. The water splashed and rebounded into a floating ball of water as Talmar fell to the ground next to Ridahne. "You both will take the matriarch's shell of a being and tie it back up where it belongs. Is that clear?"
"You peasants are all the same. So caught up in the meaningless nuances of whatever 'culture demands.' Your culture is weak, woman. And we have no use for feeble peasants clinging to decrepit traditions," Chrolus lectured. He took some steps backwards and flipped out the whole of his sword from his sleeve so that the hilt wouldn't get caught in the wide cuff of his robe.
Talmar watched the theatrical display put in by Chrolus; so much was wrong with this. The Guard was toying with him and the woman, for no reason other than the fact that Chrolus was bored. The captain had come closer to look at the body of the matriarch he executed, wondering what Chrolus wanted to be done with the rotting corpse.
"Now begone with you!" Chrolus cast his sword wide in a wind up before swinging across the ground so the blade would swoop up into the neck of his next Azurian kill.
"Ragh!" Talmar had raised his sword and swung downward with all his might to create a wall between Chrolus' blade and Ridahne. Chrolus glared at the captain, and Talmar gazed back.
"I've killed enough people in this room. We don't need to add to the body count," Talmar declared.
All of the runoff from the fountain lifted from the ground, and speed in a circle around the perimeter of the room before closing in one large circle on the chamber's three occupants.
Chrolus still gleamed at the captain with his preys now trapped. Was Talmar doing this out of spite or had he really meant those words? Oh, how well any Khadryan could put on a show.
"Do you even know how many drinks you had today, captain?" Chrolus asked, to which his question was met with silence. "The correct answer is eleven, and it's hardly after lunch. That's a new low for you." Chrolus' words sunk in, but what affect they had on Talmar didn't seem to be discernible.
"Your... superiors are quite agitated with the continuous insubordination and overall belligerence, Talmar. Soon they will have no patience left for it," the Guard spat at the officer.
There was a tension that lingered in the air, with the two Khadryan warriors staring each other down. Most men would have been terrified by Chrolus' towering figure deformed by the Khadryan Eye. Soon enough, Chrolus powered through the locking of sword, pushing Talmar's blade up far into the air. The captain staggered back, still in an alcohol induced daze before he found the Guard's edge expertly rushed to his hip without cutting him. Chrolus looked to Ridahne, then back to Talmar.
"I have an idea," Chrolus announced. His sword began to move across Talmar's body, who stood still, not daring to tempt Chrolus for the worst. The Guard was carving a shallow cut across the stomach and chest of Talmar's body as he went on with whatever his "idea" was. "You," he said, looking to Ridahne, "are going to join Captain Talmar's unit. Which, I'll mind you, has had the highest casualty rate of any Visigothian unit since it's creation. And the first order you have, which goes for you too," Chrolus emphasized, as the circling dart of water struck into Talmar's side. The water splashed and rebounded into a floating ball of water as Talmar fell to the ground next to Ridahne. "You both will take the matriarch's shell of a being and tie it back up where it belongs. Is that clear?"
Peasant wasn't really much of an insult to Ridahne, for she truly was one and always had been. Atakhara was not a rich district by any means and the Torzinei clan was even less so. But she was rather affronted by the comment that Azurei's culture was weak, and almost as much by the remark about her being feeble. Hah! He did not know who he was speaking to! She was an Eija Ait'situri, a trained military warrior specializing in stealth, silence, and absolute control of her sword. She lacked the brute strength of the Khadrian, but she thought her own moves were far more elegant, graceful, and artful.
"Azurei is strong. Azurei is the sand in the wind and the waves of the sea. Azurei is fire and stone. Azurei is not dead. Though our bodies may go, Azurei will never die." She was resolute in this and spoke with all the certainty of a hunter reading fresh tracks in soft ground. And part of her, mostly in her eyes, dared him to try and refute it. "Do what you like. We will endure." She was daring him to kill her. She did not care anymore. Not that she didn't want to live or didn't care about life, for she did. But she had done enough worrying about survival for her lifetime and had seen enough violence to not be frightened by it. Indeed, as she saw the man's sword arm tensing, she braced herself for death quite calmly. But...there was no cold steel on her neck, nor pain, nor oblivion. Instead, the man she had followed inside intervened and the two crossed swords briefly.
Ridahne wasn't certain why he did that. She didn't care too much, though she was glad she was still alive. Still, she made no move to leave, even as the ring of water swirled around her like a sentient being. Ridahne had learned these invaders had some command over elements, though each one was different. She found this somewhat disgusting, or maybe just naive--Nature and her elements could not be mastered. Tamed, maybe, but not mastered.
The skirmish between the two ended and the cloaked one clearly won. Did she smell alcohol faintly? The cloaked one informed them both that she was supposed to join his unit. Her! Join their military! Ridahne almost laughed at the idea--she'd sooner die than betray her Azurei, especially not to these uncultured brutes. Besides, she did not like taking orders from those she did not respect ,and she had none for this man. None at all. She snarled at him, and then at Talmar, clearly not liking either of them.
In her native Azurian, she said what translated to, "Good luck with that." Her language was her one small joy--they did not know it and it was a difficult language to learn, especially considering that it was not normal to teach it to an outsider. She could use it to say anything she wanted to without them knowing, or could communicate secretly with her own kin.
She was 'ordered' to put the body back where it had been hung like a macabre flag, but Ridahne did not respond. She would wait until he left, and then take full advantage of the fact that this other man, Talmar apparently, seemed to be quite drunk. He seemed strong, but in his state she guessed she might best him with speed and agility, of which she had plenty. "I take no orders from you," she growled, still crouching over the body like it was treasure and she a pirate. To Talmar, she spat, and quite angrily. It did not matter to her that he had essentially saved her life--he could have had a million reasons for doing that and none of them had to do with him being good. No, she didn't trust him and would exploit his drunkenness as soon as she had a reasonable chance. She spat at Chorlus too, for good measure.
"Here my Sota will stay," she snarled.
"Azurei is strong. Azurei is the sand in the wind and the waves of the sea. Azurei is fire and stone. Azurei is not dead. Though our bodies may go, Azurei will never die." She was resolute in this and spoke with all the certainty of a hunter reading fresh tracks in soft ground. And part of her, mostly in her eyes, dared him to try and refute it. "Do what you like. We will endure." She was daring him to kill her. She did not care anymore. Not that she didn't want to live or didn't care about life, for she did. But she had done enough worrying about survival for her lifetime and had seen enough violence to not be frightened by it. Indeed, as she saw the man's sword arm tensing, she braced herself for death quite calmly. But...there was no cold steel on her neck, nor pain, nor oblivion. Instead, the man she had followed inside intervened and the two crossed swords briefly.
Ridahne wasn't certain why he did that. She didn't care too much, though she was glad she was still alive. Still, she made no move to leave, even as the ring of water swirled around her like a sentient being. Ridahne had learned these invaders had some command over elements, though each one was different. She found this somewhat disgusting, or maybe just naive--Nature and her elements could not be mastered. Tamed, maybe, but not mastered.
The skirmish between the two ended and the cloaked one clearly won. Did she smell alcohol faintly? The cloaked one informed them both that she was supposed to join his unit. Her! Join their military! Ridahne almost laughed at the idea--she'd sooner die than betray her Azurei, especially not to these uncultured brutes. Besides, she did not like taking orders from those she did not respect ,and she had none for this man. None at all. She snarled at him, and then at Talmar, clearly not liking either of them.
In her native Azurian, she said what translated to, "Good luck with that." Her language was her one small joy--they did not know it and it was a difficult language to learn, especially considering that it was not normal to teach it to an outsider. She could use it to say anything she wanted to without them knowing, or could communicate secretly with her own kin.
She was 'ordered' to put the body back where it had been hung like a macabre flag, but Ridahne did not respond. She would wait until he left, and then take full advantage of the fact that this other man, Talmar apparently, seemed to be quite drunk. He seemed strong, but in his state she guessed she might best him with speed and agility, of which she had plenty. "I take no orders from you," she growled, still crouching over the body like it was treasure and she a pirate. To Talmar, she spat, and quite angrily. It did not matter to her that he had essentially saved her life--he could have had a million reasons for doing that and none of them had to do with him being good. No, she didn't trust him and would exploit his drunkenness as soon as she had a reasonable chance. She spat at Chorlus too, for good measure.
"Here my Sota will stay," she snarled.
The two Khadryans heard the words the Azurian spoke, but to either her rabble meant near to nothing. To Chrolus, a misguided peasant did as a misguided peasant does. To Talmar, the end result on following Ridahne's rebellious path led to defeat, something the Azurian woman seemed to not understand.
"Oh, will she?" Chrolus openly touted, turning his back from the captain and Ridahne. "Hop to it; I don't want to bring a fourth party into this."
The Guard took his leave, Talmar and Ridahne now left in the silence of each other's presence, for now anyways. The captain pushed his groggy self to his feet. Blood dripped down the front of his body as he picked up his sword, dragging the blade along as he stood before the matriarch's corpse. He looked down to it, then to Ridahne.
"If this doesn't happen, at least one of us will die," he told her. "And then perhaps both our bodies are strung up as examples of dissenting, as an Azurian and as a Visigothian soldier. If you want to be killed in a pointless and anticlimactic bout against Chrolus, then you'll stop me or run away from here. And if you have any sense of pragmatism," he began to say, in a lower voice, "you'll wait for your opening." Talmar dropped his sword and began wandering over to the fountain. A good drink of water would do good right now.
"You see, now it's personal between you and Chrolus, and he's not going to let this go. This hanging body is important to the image your current 'Divine Lord' wants to project," he explained to Ridahne, not paying attention to where she was, for he didn't care, and that was most likely because he was drunk. "In fact, if he is going to kill you, I'm going to take a guess as to how you're going to die."
Talmar finally reached the water fountain, cupped his hands and washes his face. He propped his chest up with his arms on the stone wall of the fountain, staring into the rippling water.
"After you're subdued, in whatever meaningless manner you prefer to go out in, a ring of water, like the one what was around your throat, will grip your entire rib cage. And slowly and surely, the ring will get tighter and tighter, like a snake clamping down on its prey," the captain drawled along in his drunken state. "You'll feel the tightness as the air is forced out of your lungs, you're unable to breathe, and the bones in your body feel more and more stressed. Until eventually, one gives way and cracks, then the next, and your entire sternum collapses into your organs. It'll perhaps be the most painful thing you've ever endured in your life, and for what? That's the question you'll be asking yourself in the moments of your death. And your single and isolated outcry will be made an example of, perhaps publicly, for all to fear. It won't be honorable, nor glorious. It will be ugly and horrifying."
Talmar took a long drink after his monologue. It was time to get up and do, so he stood up to face what was inevitable, putting the body back up.
"Oh, will she?" Chrolus openly touted, turning his back from the captain and Ridahne. "Hop to it; I don't want to bring a fourth party into this."
The Guard took his leave, Talmar and Ridahne now left in the silence of each other's presence, for now anyways. The captain pushed his groggy self to his feet. Blood dripped down the front of his body as he picked up his sword, dragging the blade along as he stood before the matriarch's corpse. He looked down to it, then to Ridahne.
"If this doesn't happen, at least one of us will die," he told her. "And then perhaps both our bodies are strung up as examples of dissenting, as an Azurian and as a Visigothian soldier. If you want to be killed in a pointless and anticlimactic bout against Chrolus, then you'll stop me or run away from here. And if you have any sense of pragmatism," he began to say, in a lower voice, "you'll wait for your opening." Talmar dropped his sword and began wandering over to the fountain. A good drink of water would do good right now.
"You see, now it's personal between you and Chrolus, and he's not going to let this go. This hanging body is important to the image your current 'Divine Lord' wants to project," he explained to Ridahne, not paying attention to where she was, for he didn't care, and that was most likely because he was drunk. "In fact, if he is going to kill you, I'm going to take a guess as to how you're going to die."
Talmar finally reached the water fountain, cupped his hands and washes his face. He propped his chest up with his arms on the stone wall of the fountain, staring into the rippling water.
"After you're subdued, in whatever meaningless manner you prefer to go out in, a ring of water, like the one what was around your throat, will grip your entire rib cage. And slowly and surely, the ring will get tighter and tighter, like a snake clamping down on its prey," the captain drawled along in his drunken state. "You'll feel the tightness as the air is forced out of your lungs, you're unable to breathe, and the bones in your body feel more and more stressed. Until eventually, one gives way and cracks, then the next, and your entire sternum collapses into your organs. It'll perhaps be the most painful thing you've ever endured in your life, and for what? That's the question you'll be asking yourself in the moments of your death. And your single and isolated outcry will be made an example of, perhaps publicly, for all to fear. It won't be honorable, nor glorious. It will be ugly and horrifying."
Talmar took a long drink after his monologue. It was time to get up and do, so he stood up to face what was inevitable, putting the body back up.
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Ridahne spat at Talmar the minute they were alone. It was not a dainty little spray but a well-practiced glob of saliva that hit it's mark--right next to his shoes--with impeccable aim. She looked like if he came any closer she would bite him like a cobra, and that wasn't too far from the truth. Though Ridahne was trained in the graceful arts of swordplay, she was absolutely not above biting, kicking, scratching, or eye-gouging--whatever it took--because she always had to fight dirty growing up in the packs of children that would roam the dusty streets of Atakhara. She was a wild and untamed sort of thing too, and biting a hand that came too close was just as natural as speaking. Her disdain for him was in no way concealed, more so than the other Azurei, who tended to silently glare or grumble or spit but did not make much of a scene other than that. Ridahne never really did have any tact.
When he mentioned that one of the might die if orders weren't followed, she hissed with a snarl, "GOOD. Kill me and all of Azurei will know that I died for my Sota and the Sota-Sol above her. They will know I did the honorable thing and Ridahne Torzinei will no longer be shamed. But more than that, they will get their own ideas. They will remember the courage deep within them and rise up against you, assassinate you in the night. Be careful what you do to me. It might come back to bite you in the end."
Ridahne made no comment when he said that she ought to just wait for the right moment. She was a bit surprised to hear it from him, one of the ur'khei, the invaders, but she was already planning on that anyway, or else she would have tried to stab Chrolus whether she was successful or not. Instead she still leaned defensively over her matriarch with all the fervency of someone guarding the living, not the dead. And though she sneered at Talmar and spat at him and muttered things in her own language that did not sound wholly kind at him, when he finally moved to take the body she did not openly fight him but instead insisted, "No. You will wait." It was not a request. "I will do right by my dead before you take her. And then you can pat yourself on the back for following your orders like a good little soldier." She got the sense he wasn't the most obedient among them and fully planned to exploit that where she could.
Ridahne turned her attention back to Khaltira Fesna, touching her hands to the wet stone floor and bringing them gingerly to the matriarch's purpled face. She spoke low in her own language as she did this, and then pulled a handful of charcoal lumps from the stumps of a wooden chair that had been burned in the wreckage, crushed it to powder in her hands, and then sprinkled it over. The dead woman's wet face so that the black dust clung to it and covered up the majority of the tri-colored tattoos, of which Ridahne also had similar ones, and so did most Azurei over a certain age. The rest of the charcoal powder she sprinkled into the void that was once her throat. She spoke again, almost chanting, and then lay the woman's arms over her chest. Satisfied, she stepped back from the body, but her eyes as they watched Talmar were still hateful and angry.
When he mentioned that one of the might die if orders weren't followed, she hissed with a snarl, "GOOD. Kill me and all of Azurei will know that I died for my Sota and the Sota-Sol above her. They will know I did the honorable thing and Ridahne Torzinei will no longer be shamed. But more than that, they will get their own ideas. They will remember the courage deep within them and rise up against you, assassinate you in the night. Be careful what you do to me. It might come back to bite you in the end."
Ridahne made no comment when he said that she ought to just wait for the right moment. She was a bit surprised to hear it from him, one of the ur'khei, the invaders, but she was already planning on that anyway, or else she would have tried to stab Chrolus whether she was successful or not. Instead she still leaned defensively over her matriarch with all the fervency of someone guarding the living, not the dead. And though she sneered at Talmar and spat at him and muttered things in her own language that did not sound wholly kind at him, when he finally moved to take the body she did not openly fight him but instead insisted, "No. You will wait." It was not a request. "I will do right by my dead before you take her. And then you can pat yourself on the back for following your orders like a good little soldier." She got the sense he wasn't the most obedient among them and fully planned to exploit that where she could.
Ridahne turned her attention back to Khaltira Fesna, touching her hands to the wet stone floor and bringing them gingerly to the matriarch's purpled face. She spoke low in her own language as she did this, and then pulled a handful of charcoal lumps from the stumps of a wooden chair that had been burned in the wreckage, crushed it to powder in her hands, and then sprinkled it over. The dead woman's wet face so that the black dust clung to it and covered up the majority of the tri-colored tattoos, of which Ridahne also had similar ones, and so did most Azurei over a certain age. The rest of the charcoal powder she sprinkled into the void that was once her throat. She spoke again, almost chanting, and then lay the woman's arms over her chest. Satisfied, she stepped back from the body, but her eyes as they watched Talmar were still hateful and angry.
There was a long moment of silence before anything happened. The only thing to interrupt the silence was the ebbing of water from the fountain. Talmar took the moment to consider what would happen to his body after he died. Perhaps Chrolus and the rest of his "superiors" would have enough respect to lay him to rest properly. Maybe, there would be no remains at all as he went out in an explosive blaze. Or maybe the vessel that carried his life would be forgotten altogether.
Whatever it was, it didn't really matter, Talmar concluded. He took a step off to the side to plant the end of his sword into an exposed section of dirt in the floor where stone had been blasted away. He then slugged towards the corpse of the matriarch, ready to do as Chrolus bid once more. It didn't take him much effort to shoulder the rotting body and turn back to collect his sword.
"Let's get this over with," Talmar said dully.
Groggily, he collected his sword and dragged it on the ground as he headed for the door of the chamber. As he got tot he exit, he stumbled and leaned his unoccupied shoulder into the frame of the large doorway. He stayed there for a moment as his vision steadied, the alcohol starting to really mess with his coordination.
"I'm gonna need help tying this up," he said rather openly, and with a rather ashamed tone. The captain eventually brought himself upright and walked further onto the landing of the large staircase that led to the capitol building of Azurei. Walking over to a tethered chain, he rested Khaltira Fesna's body on the stone floor and took a seat beside them, unable to stand for much longer without rest. He looked out towards the camp that was set up int he city's center, and the hustle and bustle that was conscription.
"How did you manage getting away from the rest of the pawns?" Talmar asked.
Whatever it was, it didn't really matter, Talmar concluded. He took a step off to the side to plant the end of his sword into an exposed section of dirt in the floor where stone had been blasted away. He then slugged towards the corpse of the matriarch, ready to do as Chrolus bid once more. It didn't take him much effort to shoulder the rotting body and turn back to collect his sword.
"Let's get this over with," Talmar said dully.
Groggily, he collected his sword and dragged it on the ground as he headed for the door of the chamber. As he got tot he exit, he stumbled and leaned his unoccupied shoulder into the frame of the large doorway. He stayed there for a moment as his vision steadied, the alcohol starting to really mess with his coordination.
"I'm gonna need help tying this up," he said rather openly, and with a rather ashamed tone. The captain eventually brought himself upright and walked further onto the landing of the large staircase that led to the capitol building of Azurei. Walking over to a tethered chain, he rested Khaltira Fesna's body on the stone floor and took a seat beside them, unable to stand for much longer without rest. He looked out towards the camp that was set up int he city's center, and the hustle and bustle that was conscription.
"How did you manage getting away from the rest of the pawns?" Talmar asked.
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Stubbornly, Ridahne just watched. She didn't even get up from her place on the floor, just sat cross legged on the cold stone, still sopping wet. She didn't mind all that much; Azurei was hot and even a local like her could appreciate a little cooling off. She just laughed at him as he implied she should get up and help him. "What, can't do it yourself?" She was full of mocking and disdain. "Poor you. The Khadrian," she said with a very thick accent like she'd never spoken the word in her life, "So big, so strong, so powerful. Such a fine warrior is he...why does he need the help of a lowly peasant? An Azurei woman? Is he not so strong as he likes to think? Or is he just too drunk to keep his feet? How do you like Azurei liquor, a little strong for you, mm?" She wrung out her wet dark hair and flicked it behind a mostly bare shoulder, the few stone beads holding a couple locks together rattling softly.
Ridahne stood finally, but she did not make any move to assist with the hanging of the body. "You outsiders are big thugs," she answered his question. "And I have training. But do not think I will give away my secrets to you. You don't deserve them. And as long as they are mine, I will use them. Do not expect to keep me long. I am not your pet, nor am I this thing of yours to command. You. Do. Not. Own. Me." Her voice was harsh and her eyes even more so, like two orbs of amber lit in deep orange fire.
"Why did you come here?" Her question had dual layers; she never really understood what the invaders wanted aside from their total compliance and their lives, and probably any of their valuables or resources. She knew there was more to it, or else they would have begun to set up colonies and try to settle. No, they were after something else. But she wondered also what HE was doing there specifically. She understood duty, but he seemed to already not care much for duty. Or whatever crusade they were on.
Ridahne stood finally, but she did not make any move to assist with the hanging of the body. "You outsiders are big thugs," she answered his question. "And I have training. But do not think I will give away my secrets to you. You don't deserve them. And as long as they are mine, I will use them. Do not expect to keep me long. I am not your pet, nor am I this thing of yours to command. You. Do. Not. Own. Me." Her voice was harsh and her eyes even more so, like two orbs of amber lit in deep orange fire.
"Why did you come here?" Her question had dual layers; she never really understood what the invaders wanted aside from their total compliance and their lives, and probably any of their valuables or resources. She knew there was more to it, or else they would have begun to set up colonies and try to settle. No, they were after something else. But she wondered also what HE was doing there specifically. She understood duty, but he seemed to already not care much for duty. Or whatever crusade they were on.
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When the woman started questioning his strength, a cocky smirk took hold of his lips. Never mind the stuff about being a woman, but the comments about Azurei liquor made him scoff. He actually laughed at it.
But Talmar's laugh went silent when she accused Visigoth of being thugs. He didn't have an answer for that, only because he agreed. And her, "training," whatever that implied, meant nothing to him. All he had to start with was a smirk and a giggle.
"You know, you should write comedy for the lords, that was pretty funny," the captain replied. "Well, I'm here, sitting on the ground because I'm drunk off my rocker and I felt like giving Chrolus a rustle in the undergarments and seeing what happened. And I might've gotten drunk sooner and none of this might have actually happened if your people's liquor wasn't watered down ale. But hey, if that's what you like," he began rambling.
"You know what I bet you like?" Talmar kept going, pointing his hand at Ridahne, "living. And y'know, I happen to be familiar with the people who run this place now, and I happen to know they don't like Sota there on the ground. And they're more than willing to kill at least one of us if it doesn't happen," he said rather casually, trying to stand himself up.
"Listen," the captain said, speaking in a softer voice so as not to be heard, "I'm surprised enough I was able to block Chrolus' sword back in the building. In all honesty, you should be dead right now, and I'll be able to get you out of all this mess soon enough, because I don't want to deal with someone who is only going to be uncooperative. But first, I gotta sleep this off, and you have to help me get there."
He walked over to a large spool where an abundant length chain was wrapped around; it was the counterweight before he cut it down. He put his hands down on the spool to help lower himself to a sitting position, and began unwrapping the chain.
"Now help me tie this."
But Talmar's laugh went silent when she accused Visigoth of being thugs. He didn't have an answer for that, only because he agreed. And her, "training," whatever that implied, meant nothing to him. All he had to start with was a smirk and a giggle.
"You know, you should write comedy for the lords, that was pretty funny," the captain replied. "Well, I'm here, sitting on the ground because I'm drunk off my rocker and I felt like giving Chrolus a rustle in the undergarments and seeing what happened. And I might've gotten drunk sooner and none of this might have actually happened if your people's liquor wasn't watered down ale. But hey, if that's what you like," he began rambling.
"You know what I bet you like?" Talmar kept going, pointing his hand at Ridahne, "living. And y'know, I happen to be familiar with the people who run this place now, and I happen to know they don't like Sota there on the ground. And they're more than willing to kill at least one of us if it doesn't happen," he said rather casually, trying to stand himself up.
"Listen," the captain said, speaking in a softer voice so as not to be heard, "I'm surprised enough I was able to block Chrolus' sword back in the building. In all honesty, you should be dead right now, and I'll be able to get you out of all this mess soon enough, because I don't want to deal with someone who is only going to be uncooperative. But first, I gotta sleep this off, and you have to help me get there."
He walked over to a large spool where an abundant length chain was wrapped around; it was the counterweight before he cut it down. He put his hands down on the spool to help lower himself to a sitting position, and began unwrapping the chain.
"Now help me tie this."
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Ridahne just sneered at him; this seemed to be her favorite thing to do to him, as she did it often. A willful, defiant sneer that showed just how much she disliked him. Whatever favors he'd done by defending her did not seem to be enough to win her good graces. The truth of the matter was, he was an outsider, a raider, a usurper and murderer. She had no love for him.
The woman did not give the courtesy of eye contact as he spoke to her. Instead, she stared endlessly through the dripping strands of her black hair that the hot, dry wind had now taken and tossed into her tattooed face, gazing out into the endless desert. Smooth, perfect red dunes with little waves etched into their faceted surfaces from the relentless wind, broken only by the lonely mounds of dark iron-rich stone that stood amongst the dust like weathered sentinels. Ridahne thought back to her hiding place at the dust-sea's fringes, but she dared not think on it too long, lest the obscene, brutish creature beside her steal the thoughts from her mind with some sorcery she did not understand. They had magic, his people, but of what sort she had yet to fully understand. Chrolus, or whatever that horrible man's name was, could clearly command water. But was it only water? Was it some spell, or an innate thing bestowed to him at birth?
Finally, Ridahne returned her attention to the man beside her, who was practically dragging himself into action to try and follow the orders given him. Was he suggesting he would let her go? For the first time, she showed genuine interest in whatever he had to say; she met his eyes appraisingly. "You would defy your orders to get me out?" Part of her thought, 'good, as you should.' But some other part of her doubted his honesty, or perhaps just his motivation. What did he have to gain by it, besides ridding himself of a troublesome subversive?
Surprisingly, Ridahne took the end of the chain from him and began to tie up her beloved Sota. As she did this, she muttered in her own language all forms of apologies and farewells. "Why are you here?" She asked again, with equal parts genuine curiosity and disdain.
The woman did not give the courtesy of eye contact as he spoke to her. Instead, she stared endlessly through the dripping strands of her black hair that the hot, dry wind had now taken and tossed into her tattooed face, gazing out into the endless desert. Smooth, perfect red dunes with little waves etched into their faceted surfaces from the relentless wind, broken only by the lonely mounds of dark iron-rich stone that stood amongst the dust like weathered sentinels. Ridahne thought back to her hiding place at the dust-sea's fringes, but she dared not think on it too long, lest the obscene, brutish creature beside her steal the thoughts from her mind with some sorcery she did not understand. They had magic, his people, but of what sort she had yet to fully understand. Chrolus, or whatever that horrible man's name was, could clearly command water. But was it only water? Was it some spell, or an innate thing bestowed to him at birth?
Finally, Ridahne returned her attention to the man beside her, who was practically dragging himself into action to try and follow the orders given him. Was he suggesting he would let her go? For the first time, she showed genuine interest in whatever he had to say; she met his eyes appraisingly. "You would defy your orders to get me out?" Part of her thought, 'good, as you should.' But some other part of her doubted his honesty, or perhaps just his motivation. What did he have to gain by it, besides ridding himself of a troublesome subversive?
Surprisingly, Ridahne took the end of the chain from him and began to tie up her beloved Sota. As she did this, she muttered in her own language all forms of apologies and farewells. "Why are you here?" She asked again, with equal parts genuine curiosity and disdain.
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Talmar looked back to the woman who had questioned his capacity to defy orders.
"I wouldn't call it orders. Chrolus just wants entertainment, and there is a propensity to do it at my expense. Most likely you will be released from me by death, but perhaps you are stronger than the peasants," Talmar mused. He watched in wonder, and with a slight bit of confusion, at the sight of Ridahne tying up her Sota and hanging her where the matriarch did only moments before. Was it fear or hope the drove the woman? She didn't seem to tremble, she had defied Chrolus outrightly. He rolled his shoulders as Ridahne spat yet another question at him.
Talmar didn't rush to respond. Instead, he reached for Ridahne's shoulder in an effort to pull himself up, still groggy from the alcohol. He walked with her to the edge of the top step, overlooking the destruction that had come nights before and the enslavement taking place. "This is why I'm here," he said, the arm not using Ridahne to balance panning across the open view.
"Every moment of our lives has led us to this place, to this moment," the captain went on, staring into the distance. But he stopped speaking, and stopped moving, moments of his journey through life flashing before his eyes. What great horrors he has either witnessed or caused had froze him. Whatever Talmar was going to continue saying was lost now. He slowly turned away from the steps and began heading inside, stumbling in his drunkenness.
"Bring my sword. If I bend down once more, I will surely not get back up," he commanded. All he needed to do was sleep. The captain headed for his cot in the library once more, rolling onto once he had gotten there. Almost immediately, he passed out from his alcoholic daze.
"I wouldn't call it orders. Chrolus just wants entertainment, and there is a propensity to do it at my expense. Most likely you will be released from me by death, but perhaps you are stronger than the peasants," Talmar mused. He watched in wonder, and with a slight bit of confusion, at the sight of Ridahne tying up her Sota and hanging her where the matriarch did only moments before. Was it fear or hope the drove the woman? She didn't seem to tremble, she had defied Chrolus outrightly. He rolled his shoulders as Ridahne spat yet another question at him.
Talmar didn't rush to respond. Instead, he reached for Ridahne's shoulder in an effort to pull himself up, still groggy from the alcohol. He walked with her to the edge of the top step, overlooking the destruction that had come nights before and the enslavement taking place. "This is why I'm here," he said, the arm not using Ridahne to balance panning across the open view.
"Every moment of our lives has led us to this place, to this moment," the captain went on, staring into the distance. But he stopped speaking, and stopped moving, moments of his journey through life flashing before his eyes. What great horrors he has either witnessed or caused had froze him. Whatever Talmar was going to continue saying was lost now. He slowly turned away from the steps and began heading inside, stumbling in his drunkenness.
"Bring my sword. If I bend down once more, I will surely not get back up," he commanded. All he needed to do was sleep. The captain headed for his cot in the library once more, rolling onto once he had gotten there. Almost immediately, he passed out from his alcoholic daze.
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Era of Bloodshed
by Redred33mer on Fri Apr 15, 2016 1:31 pm
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on Tue May 10, 2016 10:23 pm
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Era of Bloodshed
Most recent OOC posts in Era of Bloodshed
Re: Era of Bloodshed
Sorry I took so long for what seems like so little. I've had to move back home as my semester of college ended, was still doing makeup homework and then my computer keeps giving me different technical issues. I just wanted to post something to keep the RP moving while I had the energy to re-rewrite what I had lost.
Re: Era of Bloodshed
I know my post is kinda metagamey (I sort of just assumed she'd be grabbed) but I can fix whatever if you want. Or we can use it as a start to a collab post; but it seemed early in the RP to bother you with one. I'm also trying to move the story along as best I can to start; assuming stuff about your character isn't something I normally do.
Anyways, if I do stuff like that and it's a problem let me know. I can edit whatever.
Anyways, if I do stuff like that and it's a problem let me know. I can edit whatever.
Re: Era of Bloodshed
I was working on a first post a few days ago but then I lost about 4-500 words...
Anyways, I think I might be able to get something up by tomorrow for sure.
(Oh, and it's too late. I'm a music major doing Sound Recording Tech.)
Anyways, I think I might be able to get something up by tomorrow for sure.
(Oh, and it's too late. I'm a music major doing Sound Recording Tech.)
Re: Era of Bloodshed
Alright, so I'm a little braindead from work (guess who doesn't get a day off until like mid may? THIS KID. Don't go into the arts if you want a life......). Would you mind making the first post? My brain doesn't want to work hard enough for an intro, it seems.
Era of Bloodshed
This is the auto-generated OOC topic for the roleplay "Era of Bloodshed"
You may edit this first post as you see fit.
You may edit this first post as you see fit.