Nahdib Tashael's Story

The darkness of his cell was nothing new to Nahdib, and as long as he pondered upon his years spent within the confines of armor, it proved to be of little import to him. He had only a general idea of how large it was, the hallway was pitch-black due to its lack of torches, and the only time he saw any light was when a gaoler was ushered forth with a pan of mush and cup of water, but he paced it once, having to hunch over slightly as the cell was at the least a foot shorter than he was tall, and found it to measure roughly ten foot wide by ten foot long. Amazingly the rushes kept within as his bedding were changed weekly to deter the spread of fleas and lice from the inhabitants, but the smell from their dampness was unbearable, and they molded with amazing speed. He had found that there was a drip of water emanating from the ceiling that focused upon his bedding, but he supposed it was better to have a wet hay-pile than a puddle of water in the center of the room. In the opposite corner from that of his bed lay a hole in the floor, approximately a foot in width and length discovered by an unfortunate accident when he was pacing the room to discover its size, and found it very useful for his relieving himself, but cared not to imagine where the hole lead.

No matter how hard he tried, Nahdib found his mind continually ventured back a month prior, only knowing this date by the numbers of times his bedding had been changed, to that fateful night with his beloved, the Princess Tashii, when he was forced to slay his two youngest brothers. The memories were merely blurs now, one event hardly distinguishable from the next, but he could remember his treachery. They had been locked in an embrace when his brothers, Kin’Drael and Rin’Tael, had burst through the windows. He had pleaded with them to forget his treachery, but they would not be persuaded, and drew their swords. There was no way for Nahdib to tell how long the fight had lasted, every minute seemed to stretch into an hour, until it seemed days had drug by before he stood bleeding over the corpses of his kin.

Without thought he had fled the Princess’ apartments, taking only his sword, arm, and leg, coverings, and an amulet that Tashii had given him upon his induction into the Royal guard, needing to discard what he could so that he could flee to the Synod as quickly as possible to petition the Council for his pardon. He did not know for what reason the kingdoms were being convened, but that his only hope would be to confront his father, and with him the Emperor and Empress.

The trip had been exhausting, having been forced to put off sleep for all but an hour the first day of the trip so that he could maintain distance between him and any soldiers in pursuit. The most he could hope for was an hour or two before scouting parties had been sent to track his path, and knew that if they were to reach him before he could make it to the Synod that his demise was imminent. Somehow he had managed to outrace the soldiers in pursuit, but not without collapsing from his horse upon arrival at the gates.
When he had woken up the first time it had been under the care of healers, but afterwards he found himself in his current residence. With the first changing of the rushes a healer had attended to his wounds one last time, removing the bandages and poultices that had been covering the larger cuts upon his abdomen, and left him in the darkness to ponder his past, and what form of execution his future would hold.

He needed to abandon his ponderings one day, when he received an unexpected visit from the Lady Minerva, and found himself chained hand and foot, lead out of the cell to a caravan. She had mentioned that he was a hero from prophecy, but Nahdib still had no clue what was to happen to him. Where they sending him on this quest so that they could find an easier way to executing him? Why would they need to bind a hero hand and foot?

*Time Lapse Present Time*

Nahdib had been dragged along with this caravan for eleven months, his once battled-honed body had wasted away slightly, and if it were not for the weight of his chains, or their allowance to his physical training needed to sustain proper fighting form, he would have wasted away totally. Yet no matter how active he stayed while in fetters, he was unable to achieve the physical prowess of his previous state. Over the course of their travel they had acquired several other “heroes”, a Baldor, two Shara, two Orii’m, and an Anaur. The procession had been slow, as was the custom of persons bound in chains, and seemed to drag on for ages. The guards had treated him with much disdain from the start, ofting finding reasons with which to "ugre" him on with a kick or slap with the flat of their blade. The Naari guardsmen despised oathbreakers such as he, and kin-slayers even more so, and it proved very calamitous for Nahdib, trying to retain as much dignity as possible under their glares.

He often heard them converse concerning their trip, however, and often heard the name Rivael Andur'me mentioned. He recalled that this was the son of an aristocratic Neru'Abar, but he had never experienced more than stories of the man's exploits. They said that when they reached the man he would take control of their procession, and after which Nahdib had no clue as to what their fate would hold, however as they drew near he heard a cry in distance, and saw several bodies locked together in battle.

"Release the prisoners, let them take arms! We have been ambushed!"

Nahdib lifted his head anxiously towards the guardsman who sat mounted next to him, letting a rock-hard stare bury into his body. The guard hesitated for a moment, not wanting to allow Nahdib a weapon, doubting his true intent, but hastened when he saw the plight up ahead, and the other prisoners pausing to rub raw wrists. He unlocked the manacles quickly, and passing Nahdib his sword, let out a quick warning.

"Do not attempt escape Kin-Slayer, you may be spared until this quest is finished, but your father Tandarael will have you death."

Without sparing another moment Nahdib bent over slightly, letting a thrust of his wings toss him forth into a creature grappling with a Neru'Abar ahead of the party. He had a grip of his sword that had it pointing in the opposite direction that his body was moving, and twisting his body to the left to bring the length of the blade against the creature's neck, using his body-weight to cleave it off in one smooth motion. He rebounded as quickly as he could, taking a defensive stance over the wounded man underneath him, letting his protective instincts reemerge. Glancing down through the side of his eyes he made a quiet inquiry of his wounds.

"Can you stand and fight comrade?"

The hot blood ran freely over Nahdib’s violet eyes, turning the bloody combat-zone into more than just a comparison, and in all truth he had to close his right eye after his perspiration mixed with the blood, the salt beginning to burn like a hot-knife, as the Nieral kept leaping onto him. The wound was the product of one beast raking its claws down the soldier’s scalp, before a gauntleted hand could shove itself inside of the Nieral’s mouth, splintering jagged teeth, and ripping the jaw forcefully away from Nahdib’s powerful figure.

The beast slumped to the ground, a sickening wheeze issuing forth from broken mouth, as Nahdib began to take stock of the current predicament, scanning quickly for any other creatures that dared to attack again. Instead a Neru’Abar had flown drifted down amongst the chaos, attracting the attention of several Nieral, being forced to dispatch one the woman fled to the wounded Neru’Abar’s side, making haste in mending his wounds, while the spurned beasts focused their attention on the towering being nearby.

Nahdib had widened his stance slightly, putting left foot further outwards from right than previously, and raised two lengthy, armored arms above his figure, using the Falcon’s Strike posture, allowing the man to put much more force and speed behind every strike made. The first beast darted at Nahdib, attempting to trip the man, and bring him forcefully down, but an arcing slice had cleaved half of its head off, sending it sprawling at his feet, still twitching with remnants of life, while the others had begun circling the Naari, hoping to catch their foe in a vice.

The maneuver had worked, for when the first leapt the soldier had position slightly, revealing flank to the other creature, and while a quick swipe dispatched the first assailant, the other had managed to ensnare itself around the unfortunate being’s wings, tearing away at the vulnerable plumage. Nahdib managed to recover after a second of blinding pain, and brought the point of his sword backwards into the Nieral’s ribs, impaling the beast and forcing it to the ground, where a booted foot stomped into the soft flesh of its neck, crushing the windpipe.

As quick as everything had started, it had finished, and left the rag-tag group of would-be heroes in a daze, not yet trusting the safety of their predicament. The beasts melted away into the surrounding forest as shadows during sunrise, but the unfortunate souls who had not survived were not so lucky, their torn bodies thrown asunder, leaving mangled heaps lying in place of once thriving forms, awaiting the crows for the oncoming feast, but the carrion-eaters were not to have their banquet with this battle, for the Neru’Abar he had saved ordered their bodies burned, warding off other beasts that may not bow so easily.

Who the man was that ordered them into work was of little concern to Nahdib, merely assuming that it was the one, Rivael Andur’me, that he had heard tell of so much, and acquiesced to the instructions with a slight nod of blood-encrusted head, the wounds had nearly stopped oozing blood, but it would take much time to heal completely, and the ravaged wing would need to be immobilized, and of no use for at least a week.

The pyre took little time to assemble, amazingly, and was in large part due to the hurried efforts of the new comrades, but as the flames began to lick the bodies, slowly crisping the flesh, and igniting their clothing, the quiet guardsman raised hand to chest, raising index and little fingers, along with the thumb, while leaving the middle and ring fingers pointing into the palm, Nahdib quietly repeated the chant used for the burial of Royal Guardsman, and deemed appropriate for any that sacrificed their life for the well-being of the Empire, and upon finishing grasped the talisman strung about his thick-neck, touching it to eager lips for a moment, and listened attentively to the one Neru’Abar’s instructions pertaining to their camp.

The task had not taken much time, and Nahdib found time to rummage through loose materials in their supplies, acquiring a cleaning cloth and bottled of mulled wine, pouring a portion within the bottom of a helmet he had found, and setting it near the fire to boil, he took the cloth to cut several strips from it, placing them in the wine. A skin of water emerged also, and dampening the remnants of the cloth, he cleansed the grime of battle from battered body, but began with blood-soaked sword, a ceremony always observed by Royal Guards, and more so in Nahdib’s case, the sword being an heirloom passed down from his father, Tandarael.

After the wine began to boil, Nahdib began prodding around with a twig he had found, using it as a means to fetch the strips from their boiling residence, and began to wrap the wounds afflicting his face delicately. As the searing cloth touched gaping wound, Nahdib grimaced slightly, but only showed his discomfort by a twisting of his face and a sharp inhale of breath. The one man, Rivael Andur’me he discovered, began to elucidate their intention upon this purpose, and remarkably finished when the soldier’s tourniquet was completed.

An Orii’m began to initiate idle chatter with the rest of the group, while her second, a tiny-bird amazingly enough, flew up towards Rivael’s shoulder, making quiet conversation with the leader. The getting to know the others, or asking questions pertaining to their situation, mattered little to the disgraced soldier, he merely wanted to perform his duty, and whatever lay in store for them was of no consequence if the task was completed. What was bothersome, though, was the wounds inflicted upon his wings with which he was incapable of mending alone.

“Whether we are chosen, or not, is of little import to me. I was set with this task, and will see it fulfilled, no matter if it requires my death, and on my honor I shall not quit. Yet necessity forces me to ask for assistance in bandaging my wings, it would be sore-luck for them to incur a fever. Would anyone care to assist my person?”

The mountainous man tilted right-flank forward slightly, highlighting the two lower-most wings that had been tattered rather badly.

Nahdib had born the discomfort as well as possible, but despite the fact the Endyne was knowledgeable of healing, and worked gently upon this tender area, the man was forced to wince more than once from how tender the wounds were, especially when it concerned plucking a feather, whether lost or not. It had not taken much time for her to scrape grizzled flesh away, and place a soothing salve over afflicted areas, calming the burning sensation that had been steadily accumulating during the cleansing process. He inclined his head towards her in response to the respectful gesture as she slipped away, once again running to the side of Rivael, almost like a dog to its master.

Looking around slowly, Nahdib began to measure the new companions seated around the campfire. Several seemed of a more despicable nature, and would rather watch the world burn than save it, and the cautious Guard could not refrain from making a mental note of a Baldor and Shara male, or the Orii’m female that had been observed maintaining a distance from the party, and in the company of a rather large bear.

This was certainly a rag-tag assembly if one could be imagined, but the other members seemed quite in contrast to their partners. While several seemed much more balanced in concerns to their status, two had seemed to attract much attention to themselves, merely by appearing so out-of-place in their current predicament. The loquacious Risu had seemed rather rattled after their battle, and despite his efforts during the confrontation, Nahdib had noticed the fight more from necessity, and little joy had been invoked within the cunning man’s demeanor.

His eyes strayed again to the slight Anaur female that had brought her tea pot along for the voyage, of all things a person could bring, and had graciously offered everyone the drink, while making conversation with a Baldor female. The Baldor had composed herself well on the battlefield, but he had seen little of the timid Anaur, and only glimpsed her at the end emerging from the forest, probably hiding from the fierce creatures they fought. A spark of curiosity stirred suddenly, and the ex-soldier found he was seated beside the two women, attempting to acquaint himself further with the other members of the party. As any veterans of campaigning within the military would know, unity must be had within the ranks to improve overall morale, and that this would signal the making, or breaking, of a unit.

“Greetings miladies, I am Nahdib. How fare you after our plight earlier?”

A soothing smile spread upon the battered face of Nahdib, and somehow a sense of comfort surged over his being, he had not been capable of smiling for some time, but it was merely a gesture to comfort the two women, and belied the pain behind calculating eyes.

Nahdib had wandered off to sleep not long after engaging the Anaur Hana in conversation, stretching out on his side after finishing the soothing cup of tea, rinsing it with a trickle of water from his skin, and found the heat of the fire soothing. It had been a long time since the warmth of a fire was welcome to the outcast, Naari soldiers preferred to leave the disgraced man chained to the back of the caravan, on the side opposite of the campfires they had made, and winter had been especially brutal under these circumstances. Fleeting words drifted through the soldier’s light sleep, causing head to tilt slightly at times, and quiet phrases were mumbled through half-open lips.

Sleep may have visited quickly, but it refused to be a guest for very long, and the Naari was soon awake, opening eyes and ears to sounds of the peaceful, slumbering companions. The sound of snoring rumbled forth through the group, and it was hard to tell whether it originated from a Baldor male, or the giant bear that came with the woman Chisheema, but despite this everything still seemed at ease, and somehow Nahdib knew that things were well, despite the circumstances that had brought them here. Rising quietly, armor and sword were bundled up and carried between arm and body; he slipped off just out of the dying firelight, stopping shortly to clasp armor on barren arms and legs.

The armored Naari began pacing the perimeter of their camp, surprised that Rivael had not detailed a better guard after their skirmish yesterday, and probably one reason that the former legionnaire had not slept for much longer than it took others to doze off. The dual-moons had come out in full, Turael, the larger blue-moon, looming behind Toreal, its smaller red counterpart, and lit the somber plains laid out around their encampment, and allowing perfect visibility for miles around as long as a sentry had keen eyesight.

“The sisters had lit the skies the last night I held Tashii.”

Thoughts drifted wantonly to those last fleeting moments before his brothers had broken the sublime moment, and shattered all illusions of tranquility. Nahdib lowered violet-eyes towards the sisters in the sky, wondering whether he would see his love again, not wanting the sublime thoughts to be diluted with the truth of his predicament, and the certain doom of his future. A lonesome tear slid slowly down his lean-face, burning as hot as any steel hot from the forge, and fell slowly downwards, wetting the amulet clasped about his neck.

*4 Hours Later*

The nighttime had fled quickly for the Naari sentry, and with its departure hailed the beginning of their perilous journey. Nahdib had begun making preparations for their departure after Rivael had set forth clear instructions, and decided it best to help the Baldor, whose name was Mazren he had discovered, with packing the mules with the heavier bundles and equipment, it had been near daybreak when he found this was the culprit of the monstrous snoring. Everything had gone smoothly; everyone was working together, some packing and others cleaning away the traces of their encampment, when the Guard ventured forth to question Rivael who, he had noticed, was not inclined to friendliness.

“Excuse me milord, but I was hoping to…”

The phrase was stifled quickly as Risu looked towards Rivael and Mazren, upon scolding the Sharan, began rushing towards a long figure limping from the woods, which seemed rather peculiar given the current circumstances, and Nahdib placed a gauntleted hand on sword-hilt, pacing towards the, what appeared to be, wounded female, eyes scanning the forest for any unwanted attention.

The clamor of steel greaves heralded the approach of Nahdib, more alike to a mountain than a normal man, to the limping Sharan female, keeping a decent pace with Mazren, who seemed to be almost stumbling over himself to reach the woman. He had not drawn his sword, but kept a tight grip upon the hilt should any action need to be taken, but the forest stayed quiet, and the woman did not seem to be capable of actually threatening even Mazren, much less the towering figure that approached behind him.

As the Naari drew closer he noticed that she was attractive, for a Sharan at least, but had a sinister demeanor, something about her said that there was some ill-intentions meant with her arrival, yet despite these grave misgivings, Nahdib still offered the lithe woman help while escorting her to the back of the caravan, acting as a sentry in case escape was attempted before Rivael had a chance to question her.

There was not conversation held between them, the woman seemed in a state of unease while travelling with the group, and the self-appointed sentry trudged along silently behind, only the clanking of his armor or the rustling of wings indicating his presence. The silent duo followed in this manner for several hours until plumes of smoke filled the air, and a sweet stench filled their nostrils. If there was a fire in the village ahead then no one was trapped in the inferno and burning, the stench of flesh would have smothered all other odors and just the thought brought back horrid memories for Nahdib.

It had been ten years ago, when the Naari had been in the service of the Seventh Legion for some two years at the time, when his party had happened upon an Anaur village that had been sacked by a band of outlaws that had been terrorizing the country-side, and were the main target of the Seventh Legion at the time. The fire had almost died out completely by the time the soldiers had arrived, only embers and ash remained of the wood and hay structures, only to find the blackened stone columns that had supported the town center standing, encompassing the charred remains of the village inhabitants.

It had taken little time to provide a proper burial for what was left of the villagers, but the memory had haunted Nahdib’s dreams for years to come. Now the memory began tugging at his very soul like a crow raking its beak in carrion. A second-glance back at the Sharan almost held rushing figure as he glanced upon what could almost be mistaken as a gleeful look encroach upon her face, but duty forced the sentry forth to help stay the blaze.

*Time Lapse*

It had taken quite a long time to beat back the inferno, and this was in the most part thanks to the efforts of Hana and the quiet Neru’abar female, who appeared to be a seasoned campaigner, but everyone had their part in the struggle. Nahdib had rushed around the burning village, wrenching mounds of Earth from the ground with gauntleted hands to smother whatever flames that wanted to leave the encircling village, and shifting any flaming objects that he could from the buildings that had not been fully captured in hopes to contain the damage.

The party sat quietly in a circle, resting filthy bodies that were exhausted from the day’s work, most in quiet contemplation while Rivael and Risu commenced with questioning the Sharan female from earlier. It was strange that one from the Empire would be so far from the realm without orders, but his own predicament gave insight into the plight’s that might beset an individual. Smoke-irritated eyes drifted over the sortie, glancing upon the slumbering Hana, beaten by her efforts at conjuring rain earlier, and rested upon the quiet Neru’abar female that sat scribbling on a piece of parchment.

The Naari stood up and moved closer to the figure and discovered, to his surprise, that she was actually drawing on the parchment, and it contained numerous drawings, all of which contained a remarkable amount of detail, and concluded that it must be a sort of picture diary she kept. The mountainous figure seated himself several feet of to her side, not wanting to intrude within her personal space, and gazed upon the parchment with which she focused so intently.

The soldier settled himself, using a travel pack as a cushion for his back, and began stripping his equipment off, using a moist cloth to rinse away the smoke and embers, then placing the armor carefully in a bundle to be set next to him. Laying back fully now, scarred hands placed themselves under his mop of black hair while violet eyes gazed upon the sisters floating above them.

The clamor of the disturbed pottery had awakened Nadhib, but exhaustion had stayed any response from the man, merely choosing to attribute it with improperly tired knots that had given way from some chance kick by a sleeping individual, and he chose to lie quietly, hoping for the sweet embrace of sleep once again. This proved to be futile, however, as the soft rustle of footsteps through the glade hinted some individual stirring in the camp, but as soon as they approached near the stone-cut Naari the sounds of rustling armor escaped from within the sack lying nearby containing the ceremonial greaves and bracers bestowed upon him by the Emperor, yet before any attempt could be made to discover the fiend rifling through the possessions a blood-curdling howl, almost akin to the shriek of a dying animal burst through the woods, tearing the peaceful atmosphere into pieces, and throwing the entire party into disarray as slumbering companions ross groggily from sleep’s embrace.

The Guardsman leapt upwards with rapidity and grace that was belied by enormous appearance and, ripping blade from battered sheath, barely managed to catch an encircling wraith at the knees, sending to massive creature bowling over to lie in a bloody heap as a clenched fist was plunged into the would-be bandit’s stomach that was attempting to pilfer his armor. A monstrous figure then catapulted into the Naari from behind, pinning the avian man to the ground as a foul breath crept forth down the pinned figure’s neck, inhaling and exhaling the stench of its next meal, but a freak explosion from somewhere had dazed the creature on top of the Guard, allowing for a rock-hard elbow to connect with the beast, sending it sprawling away, and allowing for a quick slice at the neck to send its head toppling.

"Run! Leave everything which your hands cannot carry and run! Run for your lives!"

A brief examination of the once peaceful camp had now metamorphosed into a fermenting pit of chaos filled with the sound of screaming and the stench of fear as the companions began to follow their leader, Rivael, who had flown away, through the only route they had left for escape. A scarred hand grasped for the satchel of armour, hastily tying a knot around a leather belt at his waist, and began to survey the other members’ predicaments. Several had already fled the scene, but others had been encircled, or were unable to take of as the Neru’abar or the Naari could.

Cold-eyes halted upon the terrified form of Hana, caught between embattled soldiers and encroaching Nieral. Powerful legs launched the Naari towards the cowering Anaur female. A muscled arm wrapped around her petite frame, bringing her closer to allow for a surer grip, and the three sets of powerful wings began to beat in unison, sending both figures upwards into the atmosphere and towards Rivael, who had already had a decent head start upon the rest of the company.

“Hold on tight.”

The avian soared forth, attempting to keep within eyesight of the others following on the ground, catching glimpses of them whenever the canopy of the forest opened up to the night sky, and watched their leader intently, hoping that the Neru’abar would had some idea as to where they might be able to hide or stand their ground.

"I have spotted a glade ahead of us!"

The aristocrat’s son had indeed found safe have, and the wild beasts seemed to lessen in number the closer they approached to the sanctuary, and was soon espied to landing in the centre of the glade. The Naari soon followed behind him, landing with a heavy thud next to Rivael, and setting the tiny Anaur on her feet gently, turned upon the Miira encamped there, feeling as much rage as the infuriated Rivael at the deception.

The sky wept furiously upon the scene, foreshadowed by doom, where the heroes stayed their retreat, awaiting the coming onslaught that was sure to bring damnation to some, and despair to others. The traitorous Miira heckled Rivael continuously over their doomed people, and the leader responded with a voice full of ignorance and arrogance, the true fury of their enemies unknown to any but the Miira who had attempted to sacrifice them. Violet eyes peered down upon the rain-sodden earth, the ground beneath their feet transforming the previously safe haven into a swamp, ready to trap lifeless bodies within its embrace. The deafening thud of approaching monsters, altogether massive by the sound thundering forth from each step, sang as the harbinger of death.

Despite this calamity taking place around the half-naked Nahdib, the world seemed calm to the veteran, all the terrified voices were drowned out by some unknown force, and the stinging rain felt soothing to dulled senses, but this oblivious exterior belied the true existence of what lie within his inner-self, that of a being aware of the plight that lay ahead, and a readiness that made a hunter on the trail of its dying prey pale in comparison. Steady, battle-scarred hands calmly began to attach armor upon weary limbs at the arrival unto their new battle-ground, placing cuisse and graves upon taught legs, while brassart and vambraces were upon muscled arms, saving the gauntlets for last, appearing every inch the true soldier that had been ingrained into his very soul, resounding crack of tree limbs signaled the ever-approaching creatures whose very existence was that of destruction.

Downcast features examined the ground once again, noticing the ease with which feet sank into the earth, unrelenting in its aspirations as a tomb. The sodden ground refused to drink any more water, bloated as it was from the inundation that had soaked the assembly as well, and began weep with each step any person made. The monstrous colossi burst forth from the surrounding forest, issuing monstrous screeches each mouth disharmoniously, fading and escalating at the same time, creating an endless cacophony that could make ears bleed from despair.

"Shed your fear. Shed your sins. Shed any remnants of kindness. Arm yourselves with courage. Arm yourselves with bravery. Arms yourselves with hope. Above all, trust in victory: tonight, dear friends, we shall feast upon their still beating hearts!"

The disgraced Guardsman side-stepped in front of the petite Hana instinctively, giving no more thought to the action than a dog would protecting an owner, as the form of another avian being, probably a Neru’abar by the skin coloration, rushed forth to the woods, doing the gods know what with a length of wire and crossbow bolts. Whatever the task was meant to accomplish, Nahdib had not a clue, but seeing the plight with which it was about to face at the approaching colossi, he knew that a measure of time must be assured it the efforts were to come to fruition. Knowing full-well that this make cost his life, the soldier drew the brilliant long sword from its sheath, praying quietly to the runes inscribed upon the length of the blade, and rushed forth, placing each step carefully so as to not trip during this hazardous venture, to meet the oncoming brute that burst forth from the foliage.

The brilliant blade came slashing forth towards the behemoth, Nahdib’s head reaching only to the colossus’ waist, as a diving leap was made in attempts to circle around the gargantuan creature, hoping to attack the beast from the rear.