Mid Day on a Hill

[Gildren]

Story; “Mid Day on a Hill”
00C - A polite request; this story/thread has been created for specific players to RP through, please do not add additional IC posts without first receiving permission from the primary parties involved. Polite 00C posts are welcome. This is a continuation of the Alone in the Dark thread

----------------------------------------

“S’arrapu…”

“S’arrapu…”

“S’arrapu…”

Chanting heard around a mid-day fire.

“S’arrapu ta d’hay ahlan tal la bah nico-ah-tu" spoken calmly by the old man as the half-elf women impatiently helped him.

Six more stood outside the ritual area sunburnt into the grass, making a total of eight persons present. Five golden braziers were placed at each point of the star held within the circle. A slight breeze drifted their thick sent high into the trees away from the city walls. Even from this distance, the Watcher’s eyes might water from the smoldering foreign herbs.

“S’arrapu…”

The chanters continued...

---------------------------------------------

A few days before…

“So my friend,” spoke the powerful mage “did you see what you needed? Are you willing to accept this girl as an apprentice?”

The dark shrouded man paused in his exit, turning slightly. The mage spoke again before meeting the man’s gaze.

“I do not wish to pry, my friend, I am merely concerned for her well being. She is out of place here, away from our homeland. I would prefer that if she seeks this path that she be well guided for her own protection.”

The man looked out from within his hooded cloak, his face calm, neutral, having lost the false smiles and friendly nature displayed in the conversations the hour before. Showing his friend his true self once again.

The mage scratched his chin in thought, thinking he understood the empty expression.

“That would be a ‘no’ then, wouldn’t it?” Lowering his hand and nodding to himself, “I will respect your decision, even if I am a bit disappointed.”

Meeting the mage’s gaze directly, the man answered. “She is a girl, adept at flirting and make-believe. This fancy of hers will pass in time. This type of life is not for her.”
Turning away, the man walked to the doorway.

“Be thankful.”

--------------------------------------------------

One of the seven did not participate in the ritual. Dressed in leathers he stood a few paces away facing the path that lead down the mountainside and away from the ritual. His dark skinned hands were gently crossed in front of him, giving the impression of relaxed confidence, while being only the briefest twitch away from his twin scimitars.
‘A body guard not of their faith, interesting’ the Watcher concluded.

“Eelaynee sa ta reh ooh nad ga hey et tuu” spoke the ancient priest to his followers. The shapes of the words from his mouth were plain enough to see, but without knowing the language the Watcher could only guess at their true meaning. The chanting had stopped. The opening segment of the ritual had been completed.

Brilliant red robes flowed around the priest as he addressed his flock. He was standing on his own, the holy symbol openly displayed beside him. The long staff with a golden sun set atop it, was held in his wrinkled hand. It was a rare display of strength for the tired old man. The priest words continued, seen but not understood.

“Tel ii lic kall da ney ney, zo been chunn kay bay donna. To bey ta navarra lou bey say.”
“S’arrapu” they answered.

----------------------------------------------------

Several years before…

An average boy sat between his parents amongst a crowd of wealthy Varanites. Assembled before them in perfect lines stood many older boys in flowing red capes. The room was somber and full of pride. The red capes spoke in unison.

“I am his axe, I am his weapon.
My enemies do not deserve my mercy, it is not my choice to decide.”

The boy looked up from his feet to see his smiling mother on the verge of tears, his father’s expression cold, like marble, eyes sparkling.

”My blood is filled with his zeal.
I am his holy warrior, I fight without concern for the life of myself.”

Both of them, as they have done so many times before, did not acknowledge their lesser son. They only saw Him. The tallest boy, the strongest boy, the center of all their pride.

”I shall defend the lands of the Emperor.
I shall conquer all that is Lochwars, all belongs to Lochwar.”

The average boy looked back to his feet, not understanding the words.

----------------------------------------------------

At the western point stood a large man. Not old, and not young, born of the same land as the priest, with dark skin further blackened by the sun. He too wore trappings of their faith over his light armor, but not the full robes of the priests by the fire. Slung over his broad shoulders was a meticulously cared for great axe, a beautiful weapon gleaning in the sun. ‘Light armor, a slow weapon… yet very aware of his surrounds’ the Watcher thought to himself.

“Mainda neb borea den tu la dain” the warrior answered confidently, having been directly addressed by the old priest.
“S’harrapu” the congregation answered.

At the north western point of were the star touched the circle stood the powerful mage. Draped across his shoulders was a talisman similar to that of the barbarian. He too answered the priest when addressed, humbly speaking the ancient foreign words.

“Feyda neb borea den tu la dain” and again he was answered.
“S’arrapu”

To the northeast stood another large man. Dark brown skin, not unlike that of the bodyguard watching the path. He did not openly wear any vestments of their faith, but remained covered in dark robes. As he answered the old priest’s address, his hood slipped back revealing a clean-shaven head. His face was painted with black tattoos.

“Loathru neb borea den tu la dain”
"S’arrapu"

Another, covered in dark hooded robes, occupied the southeast point. ‘Secret worshipers… perhaps of value later’ the Watcher noted. The face of ths man remained cast in shadow, but the skin of the hands and wrists was light, a pale contrast to the majority of the group. The old priest spoke to this one slowly.

“Tel ii lic kall da ney ney, zo been chunn kay bay donna. To bey ta navarra lou bey say” the priest intoned.

“I-kaypa…” The old priest smiled, gently shaking his head. “I-kaypei neb borea den tu la dain” the hooded robe corrected.
“S’arrapu” was answered, almost covering the snicker of a young girl.

----------------------------------------------------

An hour before…

“But it would be so much fun Fire-bug! Come on, use one of your fancy spells to make the circle this time! Please!” Cat-Eyes flirted in a little girl’s way. The powerful mage could not help but smile “I admit that I am tempted, little trouble maker, but you know just as well as I that it is not allowed.”

The girl pouted at him sullenly as they crested the top of the hill. The half-elf priestess was directing the darkly tanned barbarian where to place the ‘sacred water-chest.’ It was really nothing more than a fancy barrel used to hold the sacrifice.

Bolting ahead Cat-eyes rushed towards the barbarian. “Can I see the fish barrel?” she asked, knowing the exact response it would bring from the half-elf.

“You will stand to the side, child” the dark haired women barked at her, stopping her with the command of her voice. “This is not a place of play, there will be no foolishness here.”

Cat-eyes turned slowly, quietly enjoying the ease of her manipulation. She could feel the kind look of the two men in response to the half-elf’s words. The dark haired woman was less liked than her, again.

-------------------------------------------------------

The half-elf priest snapped an angry glare to the southwest. The fury of her dark eyes threatened to burst into the very flames of war. Her dark hair almost lifted in the blaze of her own heat. Cat-eyes blinked her long lashes innocently with a slight smile on her face. The smile faded with perfect timing, just before the ancient priest turned to see. Without a word, he gently placed a hand on the dark haired women’s shoulder, calming her.

“Tel ii lic kall da ney ney, zo been chunn kay bay donna. To bey ta navarra lou bey say.”
“Zeybin neb borea den tu la dain” Cat-eyes answered perfectly.
“S’arrapu”

The old priest, apparently pleased with the conduct of the ritual, nodded to the dark haired half-elf. Taking her cue, she stepped to the water-chest, opening it, as her superior leaned heavily on his golden-sun staff. With practiced hands the half-elf removed a living fish from the water in the chest. It was a large fish, with scales sparkling chromatically in the mid day sun. It fought, wiggling in her grasp.

The congregation began to chant quietly as the sacrifice was carried towards the center of the pentagram, and the fire. Two red-robed priests stood on either side of the small blaze, the women on the north, her patriarch to the south. The half-elf priest presented the large fish, holding it above the reach of the flames. The old priest looked up, speaking directly to the sun overhead.

“Datte tis, mou goojerin, da belu maridin laylu!”

The beautiful fish burst into flame from within, wiggling as its life was burned away. It burned brightly as the half-elf stared, dark eyes open, unflinching before the holy flames. Within the span of a heartbeat, the fish was gone, nothing but light weight ash floating in the air, lifted by the ritual fire below it. Lifting the offering up towards the sun.

Cat-eyes yawned, unnoticed by the others.

-----------------------------------------------------

[Judas]

*Ritual completed the half-elf Priestess began leading the assembled figures down the hill and back towards the village of Cear , all follow except the old priest who wished to have a private moment with his daughter*

"Angel , please wait a moment , I have word from home and news of your mother .."

*The young girl waits with the old man for the others to leave then looks at him with her golden cats eyes*

"I have received a letter from the city of Maslam , grave news I’m afraid .. A high standing priest within our faith informs me that a young up coming tribal leader from the Tuigan clan has invoked the rite of Akbar’lenek against our family ; claiming that I can no longer provide for my wives in the manner law grants them and that I am dishonestly gaining prestige for such a large harem .."

"With your brother , eldest of my living sons strangely called away from the city at the request of our church there was no one to challenge the rite .. The rite of Akbar’lenek was completely successful .."

"He has now claimed ownership of my harem .. Shame really , it was one of the largest and most exotic in all of Maslam" *a nostalgic look of cheeky pride flashing in the old mans eyes* "Our family gained much influence and respect because of it , all that now belongs to this young tribal leader along with many of our families slaves and even tents . He has gained much .."

*The old man reaches out his wrinkled hand gently placing it upon the young girls shoulder in way of comfort*

"Your mother is now unwillingly in the hands of another man ."

[Will]

I really enjoy this Cuhannan aspect in the story.

[baby1111007]

The girl looked silently at her father, emotions changing like quicksilver in her eyes. Sadness, regret, shame, finally settling on rage. The cat like eyes sparked with fire , her tiny hands caressed the hilts of her weapons almost soothingly.

"Such an insult is not to be born, pappa. Give me the name of the curr that would shame my mother."


A small, utterly wicked smile crossed the crimson lips as the girl began plotting the various ways she could make the object of her mother's shame suffer.

[Gildren]

Having slowly worked his way down the strong branches of the tree as the congregation lead by the half-elf made their exit, the Watcher paused. The words “angel, wait” and “moment” were easily read upon the old man’s lips.

As the girl lagged behind at her father’s request, the Watcher’s form shifted immaterial, bending the very light to hide his presence. Quick light steps closed the distance through the already disturbed grass.

“Give me the name of the curr that would shame my mother"

[Judas]

His name is Truluian of the Tuigan , not that that is important at the moment .

*Looks at her hands upon her weapons*

No need to be hasty Angel .. This attack upon our family name can not go unanswered , but for now I would suggest patience . Don’t forget , a young and unknown clan leader wouldn’t have the gold for such a bold move alone and there is the business of your brother being called away from Maslam on the request of our church . I suspect a second party working against us from within the shadows and who ever it is has just created themselves a powerful ally ..

Infact I suspect the very high ranking priest that send me this news in the first place . He is wealthy and would have the gold to fund the Tuigan . Also he often spoke up against me back home and on one occasion even went as far as slandering our family name within the church .. The only time he agreed with me was when I announced my plans to undertake the great pilgrimage into these new lands , leaving our home sands of Cuhanna far behind ..

A few months back this priest send me a slave to protect me as my body guard , a fine and generous gift indeed . At the time I thought I may have been wrong about him after all , but now I think that all of his recent kindness was just an effort at him covering his tracks ..

If he truly wishes to slide up beside me smiling before driving home the knife than so be it .. We can use it against him to find out if he is guilty . I have send my so called friend a letter thanking him for his loyalty and asking him for his advice . I have told him that I suspect someone of aiding the Tuigan clan leader and have provided him with a scapegoat that only I know could never of had anything to do with it .. I have also asked him to investigate into this for me as I am old and it will prevent me from having to take the long journey home to investigate personally ..

His answer will be most interesting ..

[baby1111007]

The girl followed her pappa mutely back to the Mistyvale. Though her emotions were seething, she kept tight reign on them as she tended to the older man, making sure he had what he wished to eat and drink, patting his hand before she made her way upstairs. Indeed, any who did not know her well would presume her to be a most dutiful daughter, well worthy of her father's pet name. For once, she paid no attention to the stares of the patrons, her eyes kept downcast, her posture almost rigid.

As soon as the door to her room was closed, she ripped off the confining robes leaving her form clad in a thin silk shift, flinging the turban across the room so her hair flew free. She paced the room like a restless cat, her fingers clenching. Her eyes gleamed with rage, glowing in the dim candlelight.

"This is not the time to act without thought. If this is to be done, it shall be done right. Revenge will be had, but must not lead back to my Father's house."

The girl paused, tapping well manicured fingers against her crimson lips. There was nothing else to be done, she would have to intercept her Father's correspondence to get the answers she would need. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the face and form so like her mother's.

"How far will you be willing to go to bring the threats to the Family down?"

A wicked smile crossed the girl's lips as her hands smoothed the silk shift over her body. There was no line she wouldn't cross to insure her family's prosperity. None at all.

[Gildren]

A dirty aging farmhand turned on his stool, watching, with others, as the slip of a girl made her way up the stairs. A younger man two stools down sighed as the door closed behind her, before he was brought back to himself by the rough laughter of his two friends.

“Even the old drunk’s gotta have a look!” one of them barked, thumbing in the Watcher’s direction.

“Bah, I ain’st dead yet” the dirty farmhand mumbled while turning back to the bar. “Not’s dat a welp likes you would know wat ta do wit her” he drunkenly smiled.

“What did you say there, drunkard?” said the man two stools down.

Turning back to his drink, the Watcher sullying answered “nutton…”

“That’s what I thought” smiled the young man, so very proud of his social conquest.

“Ah course, a young fools likes you wouldn’t have da woods ta do da job in da first place…”

The three men stood.

[Judas]

*The old priest sat alone by the fire , nursing the tea his daughter had made him as a bar fight threatened to break the calm ; but what’s an old man with a bad back and knackerd knees to do ? .. All he knew was that someone had disrespected his Angel and with this he turned to the larger of the two young men and spoke*

"Don’t listen to him , he is just drunk again , he is always saying strange things .. Why just the other day he was saying a load of strange things about your mother .. Now I’m well educated in Varanite but it made no sense to me .."

*The old priest speaks with a strong foreign accent as if he was trying to remember the words without knowing their meaning*

"Something about .. Eight , Tank-ards nay bein’ enough .. Something , something , wouldn’t give ‘er a good seein’ ta with your’s .. Something , something … Complete gibberish , he is clearly mad … Pay him no mind my friend .."

[Gildren]

With a deathly silence the large man turned slowly back towards the drunk. His two friends, once eager to join the fun, stepped back giving way.

"Did you say that?" was heard clearly throughout the bar.
'Hmph, this might hurt a bit,' the Watcher thought.

"Wat?" spoke the drunk and the large man answered, hard.

An powerful right hook that everyone could see coming dropped the drunken farmhand to the floor to the sound of laughter.

"That will teach you your place!" said one of the two friends stepping up to kick the fallen drunk.

The dirty drunk looked up with watering eyes, silently taking note of his assailants faces, before pretending to pass out.
'Too bad the first failed to split my lip, but the broken rib will do nicely' he thought without emotion.

[Judas]

“Enough !”

*The old priest proclaimed with more confidence than you would expect from a man with his frail frame*

“Calm your self’s before you spill his life’s water upon the sand .”

*The old priest moved slowly towards the battered drunk , knelt down besides him and gently laid his wrinkled hands upon him . The patrons saw him mutter some foreign nonsense to his 'so called' barbaric gods and with this the drunkard was healed*

*The drunkards eyes focused much faster than expected but the old priest was ready and quietly whispered into his ear*

“This time I was able to heal you , but next time I may not be around to help .. I suggest you remember that some of the locals around here don’t like it when you disrespect young women .. Now , run along and play nice ..”

*Patting the drunkard on the back the old priest moved back to his place by the fire*