Zion: Light of the New Moon Part 2, Ch 0.1
Zion - Light of the New Moon, Part 2 Chapter 0 What Comes Next
Author's Note: As with the introductory chapter at the beginning of Zion, this first chapter presented post-Milestone will include all cities together. This post will add some depth to the story and present some interesting new twists into the various plots (as if the Milestones themselves didn't do enough!). Keep an eye out for the next options for reader contributions, posted alongside the journal... it's time for some new event arcs!
Bannihar
The Moon Pelted wolf crept quietly through the underbrush, years of practiced stealth aiding her as she slowly circled the remnants of the town. Her nose worked carefully as the wind drifted by, her senses attuned for the faintest hint of the dark energies that animated the dead... but she detected none. Emerging from between the bushes, the wolf padded forward, nose close to the ground, all four paws ready to spring back and away the moment there was any indication of trouble... and yet... there was none.
As the wolf slid through the shadows closer and closer to the open doors to the town she paid close attention to the veritable army of bodies strewn about the road; they had been animated, but were now little more than unmoving corpses. She paused at the entrance to the city, loathed to enter... but she knew she would never find the answers she sought unless she gathered her will and accepted it as yet another unpleasant chore... she'd had a lot of them lately. The wolf let out an audible sigh and slowly rose up onto her hind legs, letting her forelegs migrate to the sides of her body as her torso filled out and her hind-legs lengthened, broadened, and moved into a much more suitable stance to allow her to stand erect.
The wolf casually strolled down the abandoned city street, her finely toned body left sky-clad for all the world to see... not that there were any eyes left to notice. A litany of scars stretched across her fur each one telling a story of her failures and successes... not a single one out of place, each ritualistically carved by her own claws and made permanent with a mystical unguent. The furless lines on their pristine pelts were important to her people; without the aid of the ritualistic combination of herbs and charcoal, those of her tribe were unable to scar naturally. The wolf paused as she encountered a glass window, stopping only long enough to inspect her reflection. She drew her paw back over her ear, moving an errant whorl of mane back into place before continuing on.
Emerging from the many buildings into the relatively flat center of the town, the wolf walked purposefully straight up to the statue there. She gazed into the unblinking, stony eyes, studying the face before she slowly circled it, stopping only once she reached the front once again... and then took a seat at the statue's feet. Closing her eyes, the wolf rested her paws on the bare earth and whispered softly in the native language of the Wild Lands, "Spirits of the earth, I call to thee. Dana, thy sister of flesh seeks thee out."
The wolf remained where she was, eyes closed as she waited patiently. Her father had once told her that spirits experienced the world differently than those of the mortal world; earth spirits lived slower, much more long-sighted lives and had little tolerance for any who were unable to sit still enough or were too impatient... Dana was neither. She remained where she was, unmoving and unspeaking, senses attuned to the world around her. The city was a dead thing... cut, broken, and reshaped to meet the needs of the unknowing City Dwellers, but even in the barren landscape of the town there were spirits if one knew how to seek them out... and Dana knew.
What first came as only the faintest of vibrations, as if a Wurm were moving through the forest a long distance off, slowly grew into a rumble. Anyone else could have mistaken it for any number of things, but the wolf knew it immediately, "I greet thee, Earth Sister, and provide thanks for thy council." she spoke slowly. The ground rolled faintly beneath her paws in response. "I have called upon thee and ask for thy knowledge of what has come to pass in this place." Eyes still closed, Dana opened herself to the vibrations of the earth... and she Saw.
The images were not the same as one might see with their eyes, but she had become accustomed to the senses of the spirits to understand them. The pictures she grasped from her bond with the spirit was not crystal clear, even to one as skilled as she, but she was able to make out the figure that had the majority of the earth spirit's attention: an armadillo. "An Earth Shaper?" she asked quietly. The ground quieted its rumbling, the ascent that she had gleaned what it had meant to show her. "There were more here than just he." she acknowledged, catching the faint miniature aftershocks of images from the spirit that identified a large group.
"I thank thee for thy aid, and for the answers provided." Dana bowed her head, "Eternal is the bond; forever is the connection; unending is the devotion." she offered in parting. She felt the spirit of the earth slip from her presence, and she slowly stood. Honoring the Covenant of the Spirits taught to her by her mother, the wolf remained where she stood for a count of sixty five, and then backed away five steps before proceeding away from the center of town, and toward the deep scar in the earth the people of the city called the 'Highway'.
Once she reached the open ground, stepping away from the decomposing bodies of the dead, Dana trained her ears toward an often overlooked sound: the rustling of leaves. She tuned her senses to it, using the movement as a sign for what she sought. Moving purposefully to the area with the greatest amount of wind, the wolf finally came to a stop and turned to face head-on into the breeze. "Spirits of the wind, I call to thee. Dana, thy sister of flesh seeks thee out."
Her mother once told her that the spirits of wind were fickle things, often willing to answer a call but rarely staying put. She knew that the time she would have to ask anything of them would be short, but that they were rarely unwilling to provide answers; the Spirits of Air greatly enjoyed sharing what they knew and were often very adept at it. Feeling the air tingle around her with a new presence, Dana knew that she would receive council.
She closed her eyes, feeling the wind flow through her fur, the soft caress of the breeze play across her pelt like the welcoming caress of a long-absent family member. Very few people knew the importance of the sense of touch to Wind Spirits, and Dana was one of them. She spread her arms wide, raising her face to the sky, "I greet thee, Wind Sister, and provide thanks for thy council." she breathed with abandon. The wind picked up speed, surrounding the wolf in a vibrant, vivacious whirlwind that swirled powerfully around her, but left her unharmed. "I have called upon thee and ask for thy knowledge of what has come to pass in this place." Eyes still closed, Dana opened herself to the ardor of the wind... and she Saw.
Although the Spirits of the Wind were far more adept at providing senses that those of the mortal realm would understand, they were still not the same images that a creature of flesh would know... but Dana was no novice to the ways of the spirit. She was able to experience, albeit vaguely, the battle that took place and the final blow delivered to the vessel of the curse that held the lands in its dark grip. Dana shared the Wind Spirit's sense of elation when she realized that the curse had been ended... and then, the Spirit of Wind broke contact.
"I thank thee for thy aid, and for the answers provided." Dana bowed her head, "Swift is the answer; said is the thanks; thy journey resumes." she offered in parting. The spirit had already departed, but the wolf knew that showing thanks was important nonetheless; her father taught her that spirits were always to be thanked. She did not linger, knowing that to do so would anger the Spirits of the Wind that witnessed it, and angered Wind Spirits were quick to share their frustration with other spirits-- they were a gossipy lot. She moved in the direction that she knew the destroyers of the curse had traveled.
Stopping only long enough to call on the mystical training taught to her by her aunt, Dana Reached into the world and drew forth items from far away. Dana was not prone to large amounts of clothing, but she knew that City Dwellers were... and the travelers were almost all City Dwellers, that much she had Seen. Finishing dressing in a simple tunic and breeches, the wolf started off after them. It was strange to think that the travelers moved further away from the closest large city, but she also Saw that Wild Landers traveled with them... two Wild landers... one very much like herself. Dana reached up to gently rub at one of her antlers; she had questions for more than just the spirits.
Doen
Great Father Meier reclined on his large armchair, ample bulk filling it up so throughly that the stout wooden legs creaked as he leaned back, thick paw resting atop the head of the acolyte serving him with all the skill of a full fledged priest... or priestess... Meier really wasn't sure whether it was a he or a she... nor did he particularly care. He didn't care, at least, as long as the acolyte's tongue and lips continued their excellent service... service to Her favor, of course.
The rotund rabbit let out a deep breath, reveling in the proof of the Goddess' love of her people. He took a moment to pause in his admiration of the acolyte's skill to reach for a large golden chalice of wine. The High Priest drained the entire contents in one go and set the goblet back down, motioning to one of the temple servants to refill it. "May your cup overflow." he blessed the young doe as she came to do his bidding.
The naked deer, almost of age, bowed her head and filled the chalice to the brim, "and yours, Great Father." she acknowledged, moving back to her place once she had done her service. The husky rabbit let out an appreciative breath, adding more pressure to the back of the acolyte's head, pushing his-or-her muzzle further into his groin before looking back to the young doe, "In time, you will come to serve the goddess in more ways, my child." The rabbit smiled when he saw the girl shiver; he could tell she couldn't wait.
The Great Father leaned back in his chair again, but only for a moment, letting go of the acolyte's head as he reached the other direction for an enormous wheel of Doenian Cake, a confectionery delicacy to which the rabbit was rather fond. The High priest pulled a large hunk loose from the massive tray and took an over-sized bite. Two more such bites later and his paw was free to return to the back of the acolyte's head, crumbs and all. Great Father Meier reclined in his throne once again; Tah'aveen's love was all around him.
"You are a credit to the order, my child..." the High priest noted, caressing the acolyte's head with his cake-crumbed paw while his other one pulled up on his ample belly, freeing up more room for the lower level acolyte to work the divine act. The Goddess had blessed Doen with her bounty, and the High Priest's girth was proof of that; he wore it proudly. Licking his lips, the rabbit tightened his hold of the acolyte's head once again, "Your service is about to be rewarded..."
The High Priest reveled in the momentary union with the Goddess, basking in her warm glow as the acolyte gave him what he desired-- those precious seconds of being awash in Tah'Aveen's love. He spoke the Prayer of Union, shivering in delight as the Goddess' attention was upon him for the briefest of moments... and then, it passed. Great Father Meier let go of the back of the acolyte's head, finally letting the young chipmunk come up for air, coughing and sputtering. "Thank you... Your Eminence." the acolyte noted.
"You're welcome, my child." the rabbit responded, reaching down to brush a few errant lines of saliva off of his testicles, though having trouble reaching around his gut. "You may clean me." he added, moving his arm back to the armrest as the chipmunk nodded, and lowered her (yes, he realized, it was a she) head back down between his legs, cleaning up after herself with her tongue. Truly, Tah'Aveen had blessed Doen.
"Varthis!" the High Priest called, and waited impatiently for one of his divine guardians to enter his chamber.
"Yes, Your Grace?" inquired the gila monster, standing passively by the door.
"Find my youngest son." the Great Father ordered, "I want him to enjoy this acolyte."
"Your youngest son is five months old, Your Grace." the divine guardian offered respectfully.
"Five months?" the fat rabbit inquired, pausing for a moment in his confusion, "No... no... I mean my youngest priest son... Zadok?... Zafir?... Zahid?"
"Brother Zachary, your Grace?" inquired Varthis.
"Yes... that one!" Great Father Meier acknowledged.
"He is not in the temple, Your Eminence." the guardian bowed his head.
"What?" demanded the rabbit, pushing the acolyte aside, "I demand his presence! Go out into the city and bring him to me!"
"I am sorry, Your Grace, but Brother Zachary is not in Doen." the lizard noted.
"How can he not be in the city?!?" the Great Father roared, standing. He remained on his feet for several seconds before wheezing, falling back into his armchair, "Priests do not leave the Temple City! This is an outrage!"
"Brother Zachary is a 3rd Tier Priest, Great Father... he is not bound to the city." the gila monster explained patiently.
"He can't be a 3rd Tier Priest! He must be at least twenty by now!" the rabbit objected, grumbling where he sat.
"Sixteen, Your Grace." the guardian corrected.
"In the Goddess' name, if he's sixteen then he should STILL be a 2nd Tier Priest!" the blubbery rabbit slammed his thick arm down on the armrest.
"As I said, Your Eminence," the lizard bowed, "Priest Zachary left town the day before his sixteenth birthday... he has not been given his new position within the temple."
"Leave me." the Great Father ordered. The guardian bowed and about-faced, leaving the room. "ALL OF YOU!" the rabbit roared, holding his paws to his head at the headache he created with the sound of his own voice reflecting off of the walls of this chamber. Everyone made themselves scarce, fleeing the obviously enraged High Priest.
"Why would he have left?" the rabbit asked nobody in particular. He was a disobedient whelp who didn't deserve the title of priest.
"How could he have done something like this?" Great Father Meier demanded of the empty room. Obviously the young ingrate didn't appreciate what the temple offered him.
"The Wild Lands? Could he really have left Doen?" the High Priest felt sick to his stomach. It made no sense... the city was life... it was wonder and beauty and everything anyone could possibly want.
"Fine." the fat rabbit scowled, "If he wants to die, then he will find himself in the Eternal Flame for turning his back on the temple!" he slammed his fist down on the armrest. No, he realized... that would be giving Zachary his way, and no ungrateful child deserved to have his way. Meier realized he'd have to take the matter into his own paws and dispatch a retrieval group to bring the disobedient child back... things would only be set right once Zachary was promoted to the second tier... no second tier priests ever left the temple... they never wanted to.
"Varthis!" the High Priest called.
The lizard returned in a moment, "Yes, your Grace?"
Great Father Meier dispatched the order exactly as it was spoken by the cloudy shadows amassed around him; the dark form went unseen but, thanks to the High Priest, its will was heard.
Myre
Grand Matron Leticia lowered her head, taking a candle from its place on the small stone shelf, and presented its lit wick to a second candle's unlit wick, "May She guide us in all things." she whispered her chosen prayer of the night, moving past the supplicants as she made her way to the altar situated at the front of the temple. The midnight mass was just as full as the mid day gathering; all was as it should be. The Grand Matron waited patiently for everyone to find a seat, taking a moment to compose herself as she reasoned out the best way to express what she had to say.
"Tah'Aveen, in all Her wisdom, teaches us that for every good thing to come from life, something bad must also happen; with every hardship we suffer, life holds for us a blessing. It is to this end that true believers understand that there is no good news and likewise no bad news... there is only news." she gazed around at the congregation, continuing only once she saw the noble tapestry of the Telone clan strewn across one of the pews, "And so I must tell myself this, and know it to be true, for the news I received tonight of our emissaries to Zion was unpleasant to hear."
She watched and waited as a wave of murmuring flowed through the gathered assembly, but continued before the talking got to loud, "A desperate plea from the caravan's diviners, hastened to me by the will of Tah'Aveen herself spoke of spite... betrayal..." she paused a moment for dramatic emphasis, taking that second to compose herself for the next word, "...murder."
The Grand Matron let the louder murmurs flow for a much shorter time; holding up her hand, the High Priestess of Myre commanded silence with the single gesture, "This was no isolated assassination... this was the complete and total destruction of our friends and family... the release of Tah'Aveen's divine Death Mist against her own faithful by the mechanizations and plotting of one of our sister cities." At that, the room erupted into complete and total chaos. It was not something Grand Matron Leticia liked to see, but she realized that all things contributed to balance... even the lack thereof.
"Silence." she spoke the word with complete clarity, the Holy Voice carrying it to every ear in the congregation and assuring their compliance with the command, "I know that most of you had friends or family within the caravan... my own granddaughter was among those who were taken from us in this foul plot. However, now is not the time for rash action or spiteful retribution. Tah'Aveen has always bade us think before we act and to approach all situations with our logic rather than unfettered emotion. We cannot let this unwarranted attack go unanswered, no... but neither can we be controlled by our sorrow... our grief..." she maintained her neutral visage as she spoke the next word-- the one that would resonate most powerfully among those gathered, "...our... anger."
The room exploded into an uproar of objections, cries of loss, calls for more information, shouts of vengeance, moans of despair... but it grew silent the moment the Grand Matron raised her hand, "Please... I call upon all of the faithful to maintain vigil for those who we have lost. My grief knows no bound, but I do my duty now and lead you in the midnight mass." The High Priestess did not cry; she never did. Looking around at the many wet eyes among the gathering, she knew that there were many wounded hearts... but wounded hearts often became the strongest in times of need, and she knew they would soon be facing such a time.
"I ask that you all follow my example, as Tah'Aveen would demand of her followers." she spoke, spreading her arms beseechingly, "Stay... pray... let this holy gathering still your heart and calm you. You are among friends, and at times such as these it is best that we be with one another... we must stand together that we may lean on the shoulder next to us, and be that shoulder for another to lean on." her words of fellowship and camaraderie spoken, the Great Mother began the midnight mass.
Aside from the irrefutably powerful beginning, the mass continued and concluded much like any other. Most of the congregation would assuredly return home to mourn, but she realized enough of them wouldn't be able to sleep... they would be trying to figure out how to convince the immovable Temple of Myre to give its ascent to war-- after all, the faithful would accept no less. It was the Great Matron's responsibility to preach temperance, and preach she did. The High Priestess encouraged Tah'Aveen's followers not to think through the pain... to wait until it had passed and look upon events with clear minds, but she also knew that emotion deafened people to such words... the priestess counted on it. She was not let down.
"How can you talk about peace after something like this?" a voice demanded from behind the Great Matron as she slowly extinguished the midnight prayer candles. She made a note to have the remainder of the wax melted down and formed for the mid-day candles before turning to address the speaker-- she already knew who it was.
"Lord Dalton..." she spoke softly, holding out both her hands to clasp one of his, "I understand your sorrow, and I feel for your loss, but--"
"There is no BUT, Great Matron." the Lord noted vehemently, withdrawing his hand from her grasp, "This was an act of war-- plain and simple. It should be obvious now that one or more of the other cities was responsible for the loss of our first emissaries as well."
The High Priestess didn't bother pressing the issue about how Lord Dalton knew of the loss of the first group sent to Zion, rather, she focused on what she knew he had on his mind, "Dalton... please listen to reason... we do not know that any Temple City had anything to do with the loss of our first dispatch and--"
"And it doesn't matter." the fiery-tempered Lord objected, "Whether they did anything to the first group or not, we know they murdered every last soul on that caravan. Anyone who takes the life of an innocent is forfeit to Her justice, is that not what the scrolls say?"
"It is." Great Matron Leticia acknowledged; she always enjoyed talking with Lord Dalton; unlike most nobles he knew scripture and paid attention to the ways of the Goddess, "However I would caution that--"
"And that any one of the Faithful may take it upon himself or herself to seek the will of the Goddess?" he pressed, interrupting her rebuttal.
"This is true, yes, however--" again, the Grand Matron didn't bother objecting to his interruption."
"A Father CANNOT excuse one who wrongs his daughter; no mother may turn a blind eye to one who wrongs her son." he gazed critically at her, "Does the scripture also not say this?"
"Please... Dalton..." the Great Matron laid a hand on his shoulder, and her earnest plea finally resulted in him impatiently letting her speak, "There is a survivor of the caravan."
"Leijh?" he asked, eyes widening.
The High Priestess shook her head, "No, my Lord... a loyal servant of the temple."
"Please forgive my impertinence, Grand Matron... but how does that help me?" the lord scowled.
"Because, my dear Lord Dalton, he will allow us to clearly identify those who are responsible for our great loss." she answered simply.
"And then I find out who is responsible for my daughter's death." his fist shook at its place beside his sword hilt. He looked up into the High Priestess' eyes, "You won't let this disgusting act go unpunished, will you, Grand Matron?"
"I lost my Granddaughter, Dalton Telone... and I will not have her death be meaningless." she vowed, meeting his gaze. The Lord nodded in understanding, albeit, the Grand Matron realized, only what she wanted him to understand. Lord Dalton's men in waiting accompanied him out of the temple, the man looking far older than his years would suggest. The High Priestess realized she would have felt the same over the loss of Marion were she not aware of the bigger picture and knowing just what that sacrifice meant for the world... for Myre.
"Amazing, I must admit. I did not truly understand your capacity in following through with your promise, Leticia." a mellow, even-toned voice spoke up from the pews. For the second time that night, the Great Matron did not need to turn around to know who spoke.
"I told you it would not be difficult, Saiel... merely costly." the High Priestess noted, turning back to the candles to continue snuffing them.
"Very few mortals have the mettle." the man noted. She heard him stand, his hard-heeled boots striking the stone loudly as he approached.
"Are you impressed?" she inquired blandly, setting the candle snuffer on the stone counter, "Do not be... it cost me my Granddaughter to hold up my end of the bargain."
"I am not impressed." the man confirmed, "But not because of the reason you think."
The Grand Matron turned around to face the red-haired man. He wore his human guise well, but she knew how to look past his exterior, "What secrets do you come bearing, dragon?" she demanded.
"Your Granddaughter lives... as do a half-dozen others."
"How?" she kept her voice even and her face impassive, making certain to not let her surprise show.
"The Silver Gate..." the man responded, standing next to the dais. He rested his hand against it, leaving indents of his fingers as they burned into the stone, "they passed through."
"They couldn't have." she objected, "Siyh--"
"Is dead." her visitor interrupted.
"And where are they now?" she questioned. The Grand Matron hated having to rely on the dragon for information, but she realized it was a game to him, and he enjoyed feeding her only what he thought she would need to know; her task was to get him to divulge more than he thought.
"The Ruins of Jar'ka'tal." the man's smile widened.
Great Matron Leticia, High Priestess of Myre's smile did the same; he gave her far more information than he thought. "Then there is no problem, Saielisiev" she responded, heading for the exit, "Given a choice between the Ruins and Death Mist, those who know better would rather face the mist."
Myrh
Kemyl sulked beneath the boughs of a willow, using the shadows granted by the long, wispy branches for cover. After the caravan had been nearly destroyed by what could only have been the Demon of Ashlai, the snaggle-toothed lynx knew the survivors would be far too worried about survival to notice one more shadow lurking about, and so he had taken the opportunity to get a closer look at their camp. The resemblance their cowled guard had to a wanted poster was uncanny, and, though the feline knew there were only so many snow-leopard wolf hybrids out there, he wanted to be sure... he had to be sure.
The lynx grumbled to himself, kicking an errant beetle away, "Damn Red Tips." he scowled; not only did he miss a chance to use his magical monocle, but he'd chosen a hiding place that was obviously a beetle nest, and Red Tips had a habit of eating flesh. Fortunately, they never fed on moving victims... just the sleeping or the dead, and Kemyl had no plans on being in either condition with his prey so close. His mouth watered with the thought of all the coins he'd bring in once he had the assassin's head, but it still did little to improve his mood; things were not going his way that night.
Kemyl slowly rotated the gold-framed monocle between his fingers; it was a simple trinket to any true magus, but the lynx didn't know a spit of spell craft, so he considered it one of his greatest treasures. He held it up to his right eye, whispering the word of activation, gleefully reveling in the tingling sensation it shot through his skull; it scared him the first few times, but for how invaluable the item had become, he learned to love it. When the lynx closed his left eye he was able to see the area around him as if it were lit by the full moon; the trick had helped him escape more than one tight situation in the past... but that power was second to the one he most coveted.
The lynx cursed his luck, however, that the ability of the monocle to clearly reveal the identity of the one he gazed upon worked only a stone's throw away. Kemyl considered many times the best way to get close enough to the cowled leopard-wolf to confirm his target before he struck but, before that night there seemed to be no option. Then, however, when the perfect moment arose, he realized that he was not the only hunter on the scene... the thought infuriated him.
"Fuckin' beetles." he cursed, kicking at another one, sliding his monocle back under his shirt, "Go git yer dinner somewhere else... I ain't dead." The lynx's attention was quickly pulled elsewhere, however, when he heard a voice behind him.
"Do not fault them their nature." the demure, smooth tone emerged from the tree behind him. It was spoken in the voice of a woman far too self-assured to make Kemyl comfortable.
"So ya found me, dija?" he asked, remaining cool and collected, the paw at his side inching to the throwing knife he kept at his hip, "Where's ya friend?"
"I travel alone." the woman responded, and, despite all her skill, Kemyl's hearing was far too sharp not to hear the sound of her sliding down the tree. He had to admit, however, that she did it masterfully.
"Bullshit..." the lynx noted blandly, "I saw two a ya."
"No... you saw two others..." the mystery woman answered with a tone that held no hint of misdirection to it, "I saw all three of you."
"Ya 'ere fer the assassin, ain'cha?" the lynx questioned. He was curious as to just how many bounty hunters were out there, but, he decided, taking care of her would be more worthwhile, so the key was to keep her talking.
"There are eight people in that camp." she responded, her bare feet sliding into the dirt, "I could easily be here for any of them."
"Bullshit..." the lynx repeated his earlier statement, "None a the others have a bounty on em."
"Ah..." the woman noted, walking around to Kemyl's front. She was beautiful... for a human. Her body held all of the curves that any man would like, though she was a little thin for Kemyl's taste... he liked just a hint of padding and she looked like she was almost rock-hard and thin as a reed, "But perhaps I am not a bounty hunter?" she offered.
"Well ya ain't an assassin, I ken tell ya that." Kemyl countered, his paw still resting on the hilt of his blade. He wondered if he might make an exception for the human... he was fairly confident that, once she was dead, her muscles wouldn't be quite so unyielding, and he heard that peoples' bodies stayed warm for hours after they died, "Assassins don't generally like bein seen... and they usually don't talk much."
"You know many assassins do you?" she inquired.
The lynx was astounded at her audacity to show herself in the open... and her hand was nowhere near her weapon. "That's a small little knife ya got there." he chided, "I'm thinkin' maybe yer just a cut throat lookin' ta loot some corpses."
"I assure you, I am not." the woman replied, "Although your magical lens is tempting." she acknowledged, "May I have it once you are dead?"
It was the cue Kemyl was waiting on... there were not many ways for such a threat to be misconstrued. His arm was up in an instant, thrust out in front of him as he flicked his throwing dagger loose right at-- the lynx paused when he realized that the blade was still in its sheath. He glanced down at his paw, flexing it several times, but his fingers did not obey him.
"You are a bad man, aren't you?" the woman asked.
"Fuckin' bitch!" he sneered, quickly scampering to his feet... only to slide back down onto his stubby tail; strangely he didn't feel the impact, even with the loud crack signaling a break; he whimpered, "What'd ya do ta me?!?" he demanded
The mystery human reached forward and plucked the monocle out from beneath his tunic, and, with a tug, broke the twine strap from which it hung. Flicking her long, black hair away, the woman affixed it around her own neck. As an after thought, she finally answered his question, "I did not know whether you meant good or ill... to protect myself from the depravity of a dark soul, I took the liberty of sprinkling you with Hefflys powder."
"You poisoned me?!?" Kemyl demanded.
"It is a narcotic." she responded, "In a few more minutes you will be comatose."
"ukk-han' 'ich..." the lynx swore, but he could tell that the sounds didn't come out quite right.
"You are a bad man, Kemyl Taan." she announced to him. Despite the lynx's paralysis and numbness, he could still hear the sounds of the beetles drawing closer, "It is not my place to pass judgment upon you, but it appears the Goddess already has."
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the lynx wondered how she knew his name... she had the monaole, but she wasn't wearing it. The bounty hunter watched with glassy eyes as several beetles climbed up onto him, their mandibles gnawing quickly through his leather jerkin. He couldn't feel it as the beetles began to burrow into his flesh; he felt the urge to scream regardless... but no sound emerged-- she had taken his ability to react in the slightest.
In a detached manner, he watched helplessly as more Red Tips emerged from their holes, intent on making a feast of him. The raven-haired beauty stood to the side, whispering quietly the Prayer for the Departed. Her eyes were focused solely on him, absorbing everything about the gruesome scene as if she were watching a child bounce a ball... that sight bothered him more than the beetles. His eyes, however, were transfixed on her until he his sight left him... after that, there was nothing to do but wait... and he did not have to wait long.
When nothing was left of the bounty hunter but bones, she turned away, "In Your Light, now and forever." she murmured. Sliding her holy symbol back into her cloak, the woman returned to the shadows, "Blessed be."
Shrad
For a reason Eiel could not explain, he was flying after a Dragon... a full Dragon. It was the Dragon that sent him the Call in the first place, directing him to hunt down (and eat) any and every humanoid he found once he arrived at the appointed spot. It was a Call the Wyvern did not mind in the least; the flavor of humanoids was far better than anything else in the Wild Lands. Things did not go as planned, and he was winging through the darkness after that very Dragon (and he had not eaten).
Eiel normally reveled in the feel of night flying. There was little the Wyvern enjoyed more (other than eating) than the sensation of dwindling warm updrafts sent skyward by the slowly cooling earth below as it finally realized that the sun had set. Unfortunately for Eiel, his mind was occupied with so many other thoughts, and all about the strange creature that left him curious (and not eating). Its name was Tollie, and it was stronger than he was, which the Wyvern found exceedingly unfair.
As far as views of the world went, Eiel's was very simple: to live, something had to be very fast, very strong, or very smart. Considering the fact that Wyverns were, by nature very fast and very strong it was perfectly reasonable to Eiel that his lack of smarts was not much of a shortcoming. That world view was challenged, however, when he met the morsel that called itself Tollie. Not only was Eiel unable to defeat (and therefore eat) the morsel, but it actually somehow managed to get him to reveal his Egg Name to it. How did one of its kind even know about Egg Names?
Somehow, in a way that was beyond Eiel's comprehension, the bite-size surprise gave his understanding of humanoids a wing-over. The most frustrating thing: Eiel knew he was stronger and faster than Tollie... but that begged the question as to why Eiel was now doing a favor for it (instead of eating it). Gnashing his teeth in frustration, the Wyvern slowly veered to the left; his senses began to home in on the location of the Dragon. He knew he was getting closer, but didn't much care for it when he thought about what could happen when he came face to face with Ralisiev.
Trailing a Dragon was not something Eiel was normally inclined to do but, he convinced himself, accepting a request from a morsel was far less embarrassing than being forced against his will to do it. The situation was a lose-lose one, and all results ended up with Eiel not getting what he wanted (or getting to eat.. which was essentially the same thing). Approaching the area from where the Dragon sent the Call, Eiel began to gaze around; the morsel named Tollie had told him that the Dragon would be present... apparently it didn't know everything about everything-- a moment later, the Wyvern was forced to eat his words (though he would rather have had something REAL to eat).
Coming in for a landing, Eiel gazed around at the remnants of the Dragon who had ordered him about. There was a strange sense of joy from somewhere deep in the Wyvern; outliving a Dragon after it forced him to do its will (never mind the fact that Eiel was always happy to eat whether ordered or not). The Wyvern danced in a little circle, both to get a better view of the crumpled wreckage of ground Dragon meat and to celebrate something finally pleasant happening. To avoid getting completely covered in Dragon blood, Eiel was forced to bobble along on his hind legs; it always made the Wyvern feel dizzy when he couldn't use his wings to help him walk.
Displeased at the sheer size of the crash sight, Eiel snorted. He grumbled, swinging his tail into the torn and sundered membranes stretched out between collection dismembered wing bones. The Wyvern had no idea how the Dragon had ended up crashing, but it must have been from a very great height to have caused so much destruction. He had a favor to complete for the Tollie morsel; it had been right about finding the Dragon... sort of. Eiel hobbled along the ground several more steps, hop-flapping over a large hunk of what appeared to be a rib with meat, and then came to a stop when he saw a large collection of what he recognized as letters painted onto a clear section of ground in red.
The Wyvern cocked his head to the side, looking at the letters written in blood. Eiel was quite proud that he knew each of the letters by name. "Dee.. ee... el... eye... cue... you... ee... es... see... ee." He didn't know how to pronounce 'deliquesce', and didn't bother trying; it made no sense and contributed nothing to his empty belly. Instead, the Wyvern glanced around the crash sight, searching for the first thing to catch his eye (other than the bloody letters). He was growing more frustrated by the minute... until he finally saw what must be what the Tollie morsel was after.
The moment Eiel's eyes fell upon the glinting piece of metal, the Wyvern lashed out with a talon and took hold of it. He knew it to be something some morsels wore, it was valuable to their kind, and it wasn't edible. The last two traits belonging to the same item didn't make much sense to the Wyvern but, he realized, few humanoid things did. Wasting no more time at the site of the Dragon's death, Eiel launched himself back up into the air; he would give the metal thing to Tollie and then be free of the confusing morsel forever.
Eiel's mood improved as he flew his way back toward the collection of destroyed humanoid buildings with wheels. He began to salivate thinking of the numerous food sources awaiting him upon his return. Tollie had told him that he was not allowed to hunt any of the living, but the Wyvern didn't mind... the dead were easier to eat anyway. He did lament that he wouldn't have any sport hunting the dead, but, he told himself, there would be plenty of opportunities for that some other night... when the Tollie morsel was a long way away.
The Wyvern was able to clearly identify the camp where most of the humanoids were seated as he approached; it never ceased to make Eiel laugh when he thought about how they thought they were so smart but how they never bothered looking up. He was almost tempted to try skimming the ground one or two wyvern-heighths over them, but considering the fact that the not-so-easy-to-eat Tollie knew his Egg Name, Eiel considered it fun that was not worth the cost; he kept a good distance between himself as the ground as he winged past the camp and took sight of the single campfire set a ways away from the rest.
The Wyvern landed smoothly, flexing then unflexing his injured wing. It was funny, in a not so funny way when he realized that no wound he'd ever had healed as fast... especially not to his wing. Focusing on the fire, Eiel pushed the thought out of his mind; he would give the Tollie morsel its stupid humanoid-metal-thing and then he could be on his way. The Wyvern paused when he saw more than just Tollie by the fire.
"You said it just be you." Eiel announced flatly in draconic. The Wyvern didn't like surprises, and anyone else witnessing his shame of doing something for the Tollie morsel did not sit well with him.
"It's back!" gasped the white-furred morsel seated near the campfire.
"Quiet, Tolen... I know." Tollie said to it in their language, and then turned to Eiel, speaking in draconic, "You found it, didn't you?"
"Yes." the Wyvern snorted, and dropped the metal-thing in disgust, "This, yes?"
Tollie knelt down at picked it up, "Yes." he responded in the humanoid language, "This is the Divine Shield."
"Good." Eiel responded in draconic, "I done now." he made it a statement; the Wyvern didn't need the morsel's permission to leave.
"Thank you, Wyvern." Tollie spoke.
"I not come back." the Wyvern stated, and took to the sky. He didn't have to hang around to hear the excited, disbelieving rambling of the white-furred morsel by the campfire; Eiel had a pretty good feeling what it was going to say and he was done with being humiliated... he was more interested in food. Banking to the right, the Wyvern changed his heading toward the remains of the battlefield, "Things get better now."