Tempest and Lightning

[Enyeto Wesh]

Crack-Kaboom

The bolt of lightning arcs across the sky, illuminating the verdant landscape and immovable hills. The natural totems of wood, the sparsely populated Deciduous, seemed to dodge away from the arc of energy as it crashed towards the ground. The sonic wave emanated along the length of the lightning's path, the sound heard for miles around.

Not all were quite so lucky as the great Cearian trees, however. Green skin boiled and charred, moisture within eyes and mouths evaporated, and the air itself turned to plasma and seared the lungs of the foul creatures.

The young human, little more than a decade old looked upwards to the rain clouds. His soaked blond hair stuck to his forehead, layering itself around the bandages over his eyes. He had felt every tendril of energy as it snaked from the heavens and struck the goblins down, slaying them in one powerful blast of electrical might. He could nearly taste the raw form of the lightning as it arced through the air around him.

The boy slowly settled back to the ground, his feet touching softly, and he raised his arms to catch more rain upon his slight form; each raindrop a tiny pinprick of cold, of sound...Of sight.

The boy slowly steps past the smoking ruins of his most hated foe, a foe which he had no remorse for, no restraint. A foe that he avoided, for the rage they built within him threatened explosive violence which he could not condone. He had felt within his very essence the pain and death of each goblin by his guidance... And yet he felt no remorse as waves of fear became waves of terror, as the goblins mentally prayed to their false gods to be saved from the tremendous pain, for the torment to finally end.

He avoided them, but they found him and attacked. And yet, as much as he hated them, as much he felt no remorse for the deaths of creatures which had destroyed his home and former life, he felt sick for each and every death and wished they would just leave him alone; wished they would just leave him to save the world as best he could without having to kill without necessity...

Not even children are given such a gift.

Lightning never strikes the same place twice. Unless it is guided.

[Kell]

Under the porch of the little white house with the blue doors and windowsills, close to the docks of Cear, stood a man hiding from the rain. Though it was mid-day, the clouds were dark enough to deny Rel any foothold. They were heavy with more rain and storm undoubtedly. Ardaion looked at them thoughtfully. Every so often he whispered to a little, wrapped up bundle that he was keeping safe and dry under a blanket in his arms. He spoke words of reassurance as he shared his fascination for the turmoil of changing of weathers with his newborn son. Rhauth seemed to be in a particularly displeased mood today. The babe lightly suckled on his fathers’ pinky finger.

The priest’s attention was properly caught when he saw the clouds beginning to move in more peculiar, circular patterns over what he estimated to be the Cearian rural lands. They became predictable and started circling faster and faster. The weight of darkness above seemed to move into the middle of it; as if the clouds were being directed, targeted or even drawn to specifically that spot.

A loud crash, followed by roaring thunder shook Ardaion out of his trance-like fascination. He turned around and went back inside. Thirianna looked up from where she was feeding Crystal. “What’s going on hun?..” she softly asked, indicating the natural drama that unfolded outside their warm, comfortable home. “I don’t know-.. but I have a feeling I should go have a look. Something is off about this storm.” Ardaion gently laid Arveldir in his crib. He tucked in the child and pressed a kiss to its forehead. The little boy giggled and blew a raspberry at dad. Dad smirked, shook his head endeared and returned to mum. “I won’t be long, but I need to know what’s going on. This isn’t just Rhauth’s work.” Thirianna looked up at him and nodded with her typical soft smile. “Do what you think is right sweety.” Then she turned her loving gaze back to Crystal, who was still comfortably drinking in her arms.

He swung a thick rain cape over his shoulders and drew his hood up as he stepped outside to make his way through the rain that came plunging down in abundance.

[Enyeto Wesh]

Arroooooo

Began the call of the wild; as the incorporeal canine called upon the nearest pack. The answering howls rose loudly against the din of the rain, piercing the lifeless gloom. An onrush of snarling forms, grey blurs of dangerous teeth and claw flew upon the well cooked flesh of the fallen goblins, devouring the free meal with abandon.

The spirit wolf acknowledged the young spirit speaker and padded along beside him as he exited the carnage, leaving the corpses for the wolves. The wolf protected and guided him away from the feral creatures as they consumed his foes, keeping him safe from their bloodthirst.

Towards Cear the youngling stepped, the wolf fading from natural sight as he drew closer to civilization. Eventually it disappeared from even his spiritual sense - returning to its home. As he stepped closer to the gates of Cear his body still echoed the electricity that had flown from him, and through him. The taste of ozone followed him where he went, a form of unreplicable perfume caused by the unleashed energies.

As he reached the gates he put his shoulder into shoving it open, the great door difficult to open for one his size.

He stepped into Cear.

[Kell]

Ardaion picked up speed as he moved past the fountain in Trades and Commons. His thick mantle was soaked, as was his hood, but the way the storm progressed had him on edge and he found it hard to remain easy paced. The rain began to trickle through his clothes, touching his skin coldly, but he hardly noticed it. His mind was entirely occupied with the question of what he was going to find.

The howling of wolves halted him for a moment. He considered the likeliness of wolves remaining outside in storms like these. No animal was as stupid as man to go outside when lightning struck. He smiled curiously. With more caution in his step he walked up to the gates, just as they were beginning to open.

That's when he noticed it. There was the smell of a thousand tiny electrical explosions that cut through his senses like an icy wind. And then there was this raw feeling against the tips of his fingers, trying to seep in under his nails; he could feel it. He could even see it, tiny runes just like the ones that adorned his sword.

He looked up and cast a gaze towards the gate. He blinked, then cocked his head in mild surprise. "Enyeto?.." The elf's words weren't more than whispers on the wind between them, but he knew he didn't need to speak louder. "Is there anything wrong, friend?"

[Enyeto Wesh]

"Enyeto?.. Is there anything wrong, friend?"

The words fluttered across the barren space between the elf and child; the sounds twisting and turning upon the stormy gales. Yet no storm could halt a hint of the sound from entering the hypersensitive ears of the blind child.

His mind twisted outwards, sensing the spirits of various living creatures. Near his left foot crawled a horned beetle; flitting between tall strands of grass towards a meal or safety. The beetle was overwhelmed with fear at the arrival of the child's boot heel so close by; a primal fear for survival that caused it to run with even more haste. Overhead flew a flock of long-gulled birds. The flock, fleet even in the stormy winds deftly dodged gusts which could topple a halfling before quickly dancing upon warm thermal wind shears to higher skies. All around him spirits of air and water ebbed and flowed, ecstatic in the natural convergence of their native elements. He mentally whispers to the spirits, their joy spinning through him and lifting his morale; and he mentally watches them play games involving chasing and mock fights as they wage fake wars - the soldiers rain drops and breathes of air; the wars imperceptible to normal site as if they didn't exist at all.

Expanding his awareness onward and outwards he sensed the guards and citizens, and the elf. The various hues of emotions flickered through his mind as his empathetic sense focused on each individual for a fraction of a moment. A guard was frustrated, a citizen grievously depressed, a hunter forsworn and a trader full of greed. Intelligent creatures oft had the most conflicting of emotions, the most contrived and selfish. His mind passed over them with unnatural swiftness, both to preserve their privacy, and to preserve his own hopes that they could learn to be better.

Of all the senses, only sight had allowed him to view the world in natural colours. Neither the image formed by a thousand raindrops crashing upon the flesh and form nor the spiritual-empathetic sense he was gifted and cursed with provided a true colouring of the creatures and landscape. With an inward grin he once again hoped that his clothing didn't look too silly.

At last the words began to register in his mind and his attention - mere fractions of a second after the words were uttered, mere moments after he had finished scanning the environment around him.

"Mistah Ardaion?" the child says with a tilt of his head; curious and confused by the elf's appearance and sudden concern. His senses focused upon his form, shifting to encompass the origin of the words whom's voice he recognized and recalled clearly. And yet, it was hardly the elf he knew, the very essence had shifted, altered as if malleable. Searching deeper within the man he could sense that his core was still the same unaltered substance, his heart remained the same purity of storm as when he had met him.

The child spoke quietly to the man some distance away, spirits of air ensuring that the words would not be swept away, forcing the words to reach the elf's ears before fading into obscurity. "You're getting all wet!" he chirps up with some extra enthusiasm which is somewhat difficult in his exhausted present state. He mentally thanks the spirits for carrying his message to the elf, for not disrupting it with their games.

The child wondered to himself: How had the man changed since he had challenged him to a magical duel three weeks past? If the young spirit speaker still had eyes they would narrow slightly in a frustrated memory at the elf's refusal to help him grow stronger, his refusal to treat him like he mattered. But before the emotions could be properly realized they disappear from his conscious mind and he focuses on the task at hand.

He steps closer to the elf in order to be able to speak to him without the aid of spirits, and speak to him privately. He closes the distance to the elf and opens his mouth to speak... And then stops. He suddenly feels disconnected from reality, pulled within himself. In an instant he enters a great expansive realm; both a graveyard and a home - where war has come and gone, where love has blossomed and later shriveled and perished. He has been here many times before, it is safe and secure. Once again he opens his eyes and and for the third time sees fire in the distance; the elemental conveys a salute of respect and a bow of honour in a single undefinable movement before fading from his mind. A moment or an eternity later, the child awakens as if from a dream.

While the child was hidden away in his mind, another spoke through him; as others have done so before. As the boy opened his mouth to speak, his mouth dropped open and his shoulders slumped; his head tilted slightly to the left.

And then words poured forth form his mouth:

Beware the tempest - the moving storm,
Allow the gale to shift thy form,
With crash of thunder, lightning strikes,
Lack control, to love they swarm.

As the last words swirl upon the wind - a new kind of echo, the blind kid shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head as if cleansing it of vertigo. His jaw snaps shut with a barely audible click and his head straightens once more. He wears a puzzled frown, his shoulders arching guardedly as if expecting an attack at any moment.

The child face turns towards the elf, as if he seeks to look upon Ardaion. His face is a mask of confusion, the shift of consciousness quickly fading from his working memory as he focuses on the real world, the dream quickly fading into obscurity. The youngling inquires of the elf with a small frown, his head tilted slightly to the right.

"What did I say?"

[Kell]

Curiosity peaked. It wasn’t even so much seeing the strange behavior. His studies had led him to stranger places and he knew what the child was capable of.., more or less. He was aware; partial reason to his concern. Those who usually versed with the spirits were older; far older than this lithe shaped human. Indubitably talented, gifted, cursed.. Ardaion sank to his knees before Enyeto onto the muddy ground and shielded the child from the rain by tightening the cloak around its tiny frame. Business as usually, beyond the obvious; in his eyes a child was a child. And a child needed warmth. The elf simply took care, as he listened to the voice that spoke.

As then the child snapped out and the ghostly narrative of his rhyme died on the stormy winds, they grew slowly on Ardaion’s mind. He felt the tinge of confusion downing, but he pushed it away. There’d be time. First response was to watch and learn, and to continue as per usual. He narrowed his eyes some as he observed the changes that brought Enyeto back to him. His outer presence remained calm, hoping that the child would not see his confusion through the guise. Deep down inside, he knew better.

Ardaion took some distance, both physically and mentally. A silent prayer silently ran through his mind, shielding himself but the boy too, for anything that could shake the balance even further. He did not want to side-track, and he needed Enyeto to be secure in his presence. He leant back and kept his gaze fixed on the boy as he kept repeating his prayer until he felt secure in his own energy. Then he responded quietly and repeated the child’s words with a calm, confident voice. He remained the observer.

[Enyeto Wesh]

The child smothered his rising distress under layers of fierce willpower. Once again the spirits had pushed him aside to say strange words, to whisper them upon the winds for all to hear and fear. Malign or benevolent, it was an intrusion like no other. The soothsaying-child could do little to resist the squall within, yet he was able to mask it from reaching his posture or visage. Sick to his stomach he could not feel the rain batter away with greater force as his turmoil brought distress to the friendly spirits around him.

His senses were skewed, projections of life flashed through his mind rapidly as he reeled with cerebral vertigo; he was unable to place them upon his internal map of the world. Even his hearing failed to locate anything, the rain not helping him in this state. Desperately he thrust his mind away from himself, a mental scream of empathy which rapidly placed every living thing on his internal empathetic radar - from Cear to Thrall's Gate and beyond. But even with his now vast experience he could not even process a fraction of the information now presented to him and he nearly lost consciousness from the overwhelming quantities of sensory information.

In the fraction of the time it took Ardaion to mentally converse his prayer within his head, the child wrapped his senses around himself and plunged back into darkness, aware only of his own feelings and pains, aware only of what was immediately about him (including the spider crawling up his pant-leg to keep dry). He felt every sore joint, every cold and damp patch of skin, every raw emotion coursing through his being, all with an acuity born from an abnormal birth. Inside raged the eternal internal debate, the debate that would continue on to his permanent departure from this plane.

Soon it dawned on him that Ardaion had cared for him while he was vacant; had wrapped his cloak tighter around his tiny frame. At once he ached for his old life with a passion he had not known for years, not known since Orion had perished to the terrible dark forces of Canas. He truly did miss his mother and father, knowing full well that they had been murdered because of what he was and knowing that while it wasn't his fault that they had been slain, that he still felt the guilt and loss as truly as if he had slain them himself. Not even the rain which he loved as much as any natural phenomenon in the world could lighten his spirit.

Nothing he had done had ever filled that void, no matter how much he made amends by helping others, by healing wounds and saving people from death, by relinquishing control and unleashing a tempest of spiritual elementals upon enemies of Dasaria and losing himself a bit each time. He always tried to help people that couldn't help themselves, to grow stronger so he could help everyone, so that no one would ever have to suffer again.

But, he had friends - Darion, Celestia, Sophie, Shayde, Ardaion, Quinn, Elvina, Prisca - and many more. He had people that loved him for who and what he was. He realized now that he hung himself too much on the past, that his friends could fill that void as well as his parents had. If he let them. If he could learn how.

A quiet sob ripped its way from his throat and he dashed towards Ardaion and wrapped him in a hug; his small form crashing into the lithe elf in the same way as a halfling crashing into a giant, so little effect could it have upon the larger humanoid. The child was not as much as he seemed; weighing no more than 50 pounds soaking wet, even though he looked like he should weigh twice as much. It was no small wonder how he avoided flying away with every breeze. The youngling whom had grown up long before his time just wanted to crawl onto Ardaion's lap and cry until the pain went away. Yet the blind child could no longer shed a tear, had never been able to shed a tear at his parents loss. Sobbing was too ineffective, it held no release, and never could he have release.

As his arms wrapped around the elf his mind flashed upon the man; the close proximity strengthening his senses even further. Upon touching the elf Enyeto felt a dull throb along his lower back; a tiny twist of pain upon the middle of spine which would have made him gasp had he not been used to such. Mild confusion bubbled up within him, seeking to entwine with his grief-relief to create a abnormal combination of emotions which cycled through him rapidly, giving him equal parts strength and weakness. A small coiling in his stomach hinted at a form of self-doubt or nervousness or fear; emotions began to bubble within which defied attempts to be defined or properly discerned. Lastly upon the tide came a strong feeling of warmth.

His power rose in him then, small sparks shivered along his skin. Elementals of fire found they needed to lend him their strength as fire fused with lightning and sheathed his hands in a red-blue glow of warm power turned golden. Neither did this power burn nor shock Ardaion or Enyeto, but the man felt the warmth on his lower back, felt it shift and squirm up his spine. The healing energy swam up the elf's back and restored lost vitality, for a time at least.

Slowly the ache in Enyeto's back subsided, yet the emotions remained; perhaps a few more emotions had bubbled up to the fray of his consciousness.

And then he felt a familiar pressure within his essence, a friend come to help. The mixture of foreign emotions bubbled back down deep to the graveyard. Along too sped the grief which he could not truly control; sequestered from native emotions for sake of safety, and sanity. He silently thanked his guardian spirit for his rescue, the message reaching the enormous bear of Nuarari before the passage of time - a silent roar of approval echoed within the boy.

And he made to lean his head onto Ardaion's shoulder, careful to keep flesh from touching flesh - for he still did not know how Ardaion had changed and he did not know how the plane would react.

[Kell]

The youngling crashing into his arms had the elf wavering on the edge of break down momentarily. His heart felt as if it plummeted through his chest and sank heavy to his stomach, where it ended up knotted up and tangled in an infinite, thorough sadness. The pain of grieving for something that should have been hit home; he’d seen it all too often before. This boy wasn’t any different from the other children. Another lost child forced to grow up too soon and too fast.

Quietly Ardaion let boy reach within and come to terms with his wildly whirling emotions. He felt how the elements responded and seemed to resonate with the rawness of the moment. He looked up at the dark skies above them. Far above them a war was being fought; wild running lightning that bounced off against the rolling thunder. And the rain just kept pouring down, weeping the tears that the boy could not.

He felt strengthened by the faith and glimmer of trust that Enyeto showed to have in him. Despite the cold he knew he could make a difference, if only in this moment. He drew in a slow, deep breath and let go of the sorrow and the pain. He received, accepted and simply allowed it to flow through his being, as if it were lightning seeking release in the muddy ground. With it, he felt how simultaneously and oddly enough even physical pain left him. A pure, white light began shining from his inner self; the white which was so lovingly described by his tutors up in the mountains back in the monastery. He didn’t wonder or question. He finally made it outside the physical shell that was his battered, scarred body and he felt no longer restrained by the past.

With Enyeto in his embrace and the little boys’ head resting on his shoulder, Ardaion reached up a hand in a silent call for His Master of Tempest. He looked up, following his plea with his entire self and breathed life into his wish for silence. Enough with the rain already and enough with the storms; he simply refused to have the play continued. No matter the spirits or elements; they had to understand that this was unbearable. The boy was hurting. They had to listen. Grant him peace. Rhauth, with all Your infinite wisdom and grace, please listen to your beloved Nuarari for this once. Don't deny her calmth and peace. Accept her embrace, I pray. It's time to slumber again. It is time for light.

The elf’s attempt at denial of further violence caused uproar as if the clouds itself were protesting. A loud thunder that could be heard for miles roared and lightning bolted down in an attempt to find respite. Doubt and confusion in the heart of the God-made tempest. Slowly though, it seemed as if the weeping was coming to an end.

“We ought to get you inside somewhere, Enyeto.” Ardaion looked at the boy as if he sought the eyes that could not see. “Time for dry clothes, hot cocoa and then, I will listen if you have words to speak. But let's focus on the importance of cocoa first.”