Flashback Goes The Spoiled

[Razkar]

3rd Day of Spring, 508AV

She was older than many thought she should be. Yurta said that she was already old when she was Razkar's age. By then she must have been well over a hundred, and yet when they came to her, she was out front dexterously repairing a fishing net outside her hut. And when they were within fifty feet of her, large and clear eyes darted to them... and her wrinkled face broke into a grin.

"Ah... young Yurta." She said, rising to her feet with the speed one would expect of a woman nearly a century and a half old. At least her knees were obeying the laws of entropy. "It has been a while since you have seen me."

"I see you all the time, Mayla."

Mayla's face split into a grin that bred wrinkles on wrinkles, and Razkar could see a keen, cunning mind still working just fine under the years. She glanced meaningfully at him, then at the battered nearly-a-gladius in his hand.

"Not for this reason, my lady. Please...?"

She went inside and Yurta followed with Razkar trailing behind. It was only when he got close to curtain of vines serving as a door that he realized there were bones everywhere. This was not too strange, given Myrian culture, but there was just... more.

Built into the walls of the hut. Into the vines. Into the beams supporting it. Even driven into the floor. Bones and teeth... all with dark etchings on them. He stopped and frowned, coming close to one. What looked like... a sternum... with circles, faces in the circles... screaming...

"Razkar!"

He turned to see him mother gazing at him with that diamond-hard expression, silently holding the vines aside. He did not argue, and they both vanished inside.

Something smelled good, at least.

[Razkar]

Razkar chewed his roasted eel thoughtfully as the two women talked. Like all Myrian males, he knew that when two females spoke and you weren't one, you shut up, listened and waited your turn.

Added to which, this was much more instructional.

"So, you come seeking my skills, Yurta." Mayla said, making a statement, not a question. She carved off another strip of eel, placed it into a wicker bowl and passed it to Yurta, who accepted it politely. "The last time you did was... hmm... ten years ago? Fifteen?"

"Closer to twenty. You haven't aged much."

A "hmph" that was both amused and scolding. Mayla served herself last, grumbling into her plate as she ate.

"Only on the outside, my girl. Only on the outside. Everything ages. Everything decays. Even those barbarians beyond the jungle who think they'll live forever..." she snorted in disgust and shook her head definitely. In the dim light of the hut she looked so much older, and yet so much more solid. "No. Time destroys everything. Even an old bitch like me."

"You still have your wisdom."

"Which you wish to use."

"Yes."

"For what price?"

Now Mayla paused, eyes flickering between mother and son. Razkar had heard about The Old One. Every village had at least one, that much he knew. A woman, almost always, who had studied and watched and learned and... practiced. There were many, many kinds of magic in the world, but Myrians as a whole put little stock in it. A quick body, a cunning mind and fine steel were far more reliable in their world. But you never knew when you needed it... and one in particular... spoke to them.

It was the Power of Bones, a whispered art that few even attempted. It was like keeping a tiger as a pet. If you could work your will, it would make your powerful. But if it went wrong...

It would devour you whole. And there was always a price.

"Hmm... your son. Razkar. I heard you fought well a few nights ago." Mayla smirked slightly when Razkar nodded proudly. "Such a shame you are just a male."

With difficulty, Razkar suppressed his deflation. He would not give the crone the satisfaction. There was a slight, barely audible growl, and Razkar realized it had come from his mother.

"Not that I mean any offence. Our kind are as they are. But here you come, with a broken sword and... that."

He gestured to the other thing on the low table. A gleaming thigh bone over a foot long. Elanosa's. After the celebrations were over last night, Razkar and his mother had stripped the remaining flesh off the bone and cleaned it thoroughly. Now it shone, white and pure so you'd never believe it had been hacked off a fresh corpse and had its flesh devoured by the one who had made it.

Now it was just a bone. Just a tool.

"Can you work your will upon this item?"

"Oh, yes." The old woman picked up the bone and studied it with the air of one who knows. She turned it over and stroked it, caressed it. "This was... Elanosa, yes?" She smiled at Razkar's shocked expression. "I do not read thoughts, boy. I hear the village gossip as well as anyone else. Hmm... a fine warrior. A noble victory. And now you wish to make her power your own."

Once again, a statement, not a question. Mother and son nodded at once. Mayla tossed the bone back to the table and reclined, eyebrow cocked.

"But you have not answered my question, Yurta."

"What do you want?"

"What are you prepared to give?"

Yurta's eyes narrowed, and Razkar remembered why this woman was more often chosen to lead his clan in was. Draksyl, an older male, was a war leader, too, but Yurta was the right-hand of the matriarch. She was wise, cunning and vicious in war... and she did not suffer fools or double-talk.

"Speak plain, Mayla. I have no patience for riddles."

"Really? I do."

Yurta rose like a murder of crows, Razkar doing the same a surprised moment later. She was already walking to the door when she spoke.

"You are wasting my time. Thank you for the-"

"Wait!"

Mayla spoke the words, but the whole hut seemed to be her voice. It echoed and reverberated around the interior like a bellow around a canyon. Razkar actually saw the bone necklaces and shrunken skulls shake. Felt the command, the order resound in his bones. His mother gritted her teeth and whirled around, eyes aflame.

"You would work your craft on me?! I should gut you-"

"A tiger's bones."

A beat. A pause. And then Yurta cocked her head.

"That is your price?"

"It is. All the bones."

"Why do you need them?"

"An explanation was not asked. A price was. That is mine. Do you agree to it?"

Yurta tried to think about the angles her, the possibilities. Tigers were not uncommon in the jungle; the opposite, in fact, if one knew where the look. If it was a Myrian Tiger Mayla had mentioned, she and Razkar would already have left. It would take an entire squad of her best warriors to take down one of those beasts, and even then, only maybe. Such a price was not worth paying, even for her son. But an ordinary one...

"Agreed."

But when she drew her dagger to slice her palm, Yurta raised her own hand and pointed a bony finger at Razkar.

"No. He must swear. And he must bring the bones."

"That was not part of-"

"I am making it."

"Mayla, I warned-"

"Agreed."

Now both women turn to the new voice, just in time to see Razkar step forward, cut deep into his palm and then offer the dripping red appendage to the crone. Yurta opened her mouth but before a scolding cane be issued forth, Mayla cut her own and they shook.

Blood mingled. A vow was made and promises exchanged. But when Mayla tried to pull away, Razkar's grip remained. She looked up into his hard, serious eyes as he spoke.

"You do your magic first. Then you shall have your tiger bones."

"How do I know you can trust you to-"

A familiar, hissing sigh of metal pulled from leather. Yurta had drawn her sword, eyes wide with disbelief. To question her own son's honor so...? Mayla nodded slowly, turning her attention back to the boy.

"Forgive me. Of course. First... I shall fulfill my end of the arrangement."

Razkar let go, already binding his hand. "Thank you."

[Razkar]

Mayla busied herself with preparations, giving Razkar and his mother time to talk. They kept their eyes on the wily old woman the whole time, though, exchanging whispered words as she bustled to and fro.

"Why couldn't you do this, mother?"

"I know little about this magic." Yurta said, watching Mayla reverently place a set of carving implements on her table. "Enough for an animal, perhaps, but not a... thinking being, like a Myrian. It had to be Mayla."

"She is... not trustworthy."

The slap stung his face and stopped Mayla in mid-bustle. But she ignored it and continued. What happened between mother and son...

Razkar rubbed his cheek and lowered his eyes.

"She has been aiding our clan since before I was born, boy. And not once has she ever broken a promise. She is... difficult, and with every passing year she becomes more stubborn. But her power is great in this art. You will learn from her."

Razkar's eyes darted up and saw a glimmer in Yurta's eyes that was a little more... complex. So. That was the real core of it. Not just getting Mayla's help, or her services, but to observe her. To watch her hands, hear her words and learn the Power of Bones for himself. He nodded slowly, eyes sliding over to the woman with gray hair and parched skin.

"Yes... I shall."

"I am ready."

Mayla stood over her table and they sat at it. An array of chisels, some thick, most thin, were lined up neatly before the thigh bone. Ink, too. The old woman cracked her knuckles and picked up the bone, feeling the weight and texture of it...

"She was a fierce warrior, yes?"

Razkar nodded, tapping the scar on his chest. "She fought to the end."

"Of course. And... that will... that strength... you wish to have it for your own?"

"No." Razkar said firmly. "I wish for it to aid my strength. I will not rely on the dead."

Mayla chuckled. It was a dry, eerie sound. She nodded.

"Good. That is good." She picked up one of the chisels and began to carve a circle onto the bone. Razkar watched closely as he hands moved carefully but swiftly, the line gouged deep enough for the ink that followed. When that was made, she grabbed a finer chisel and handed it to Razkar. "Now you must help me."

That Razkar had not been expecting. He looked to his mother but she merely shook her head.

"Mayla is the one possessing knowledge here, Razkar. You will follow her orders."

With that, Razkar took the chisel. Mayla placed the bone before him, tapping the center of the circle.

"This bone? It is too thin for pictures. But... not for words. Write now, Razkar. In the first circle, this fallen warrior's skill, her passion. But understand that from this point on, the Power of Bones will be summoned. You must take care in what words you choose, for the powers conjured will reflect them."

She drew herself up to her full height, which was taller than expected. If there was any fear on her face, Razkar could not see it. Just cold, impassive instruction.

"Begin... or walk away."

Razkar stared at the bone and the circled gouged into it for a long time. What words would he use? What could best evoke the magic they had come here for? What was...?

It came to him quicker than he thought. Placing the bone on the table, holding it steady with one hand, he began to carve two words onto it, inside the circle. Each one was curved at the middle, so each took up roughly half of the circle.

Speed... hands that wove her scimitar like part of her own body... feet that danced from his ax...

Strength... power that shook his arms with every blow... a kick that made him wince even now...

Mayla watched him the whole time, lips moving silently, as if in prayer. But her eyes were mostly studious and critical, a teacher grading a student, and when the last word was finished, she nodded slowly.

"Good... that is good. But only the first, my boy. The... exterior."

She took back the bone and carved another circle, this one larger, on the opposite side of the bone. But this time, it was a double line, not a single, as if the energy contained inside it was more powerful. When she extended it to him this time, her eyes were more urgent.

"This time... her inner self, Razkar. Those qualities which drove her speed and her strength. You were there when she took her last breath. You saw them. You conquered them. Now see them again... and bind them."

Razkar concentrated on the empty circle, and in his mind he saw Elanosa again. Her vitality, he determination. When he took her hand, she still fought. When he drove her to her knees, still she lashed out. Even when he scalped her, she fought... she fought to the end.

He started carving a word.

Defiance... never bowing or breaking, even after limb and form betrayed her... spitting her hate and anger to the end... it was not her soul that lost their duel, but her body...

After that word was finished, half-filling the circle, the last one came easily to him.

Courage... never succumbing to fear... even when she knew her tribe was lost, she fought on... even in Dira's face she swung he sword...

He passed the bone back to Mayla, and the old crone caressed his handiwork. She grimaced, frowning slightly.

"It could be better. But not bad, for a first effort, my boy. This is to be a hilt, correct?"

"Yes."

"Give me the blade."

He did as he was told, handing over the blade to his broken gladius. Mayla worked silently and industriously before him. She sawed off the end of the thigh bone, making it flat and even, aside for a deep notch where the blade would fit. Then she placed the bottom of the blade inside it, binding it over and over with leather strips and thick, gummy sap from a flagon. Razkar knew it well: it was evil-smelling when wet, but odorless when dried and could hold a house together with enough of it.

Between it and the leather, his gladius was restored.

As if she possessed a holy relic, Mayla held the blade out with both hands, offering it to Razkar. But when he moved to take it, she drew it back.

"We require but one final thing: a drop of your blood-" she tapped the newly-decorated thigh bone "-on each circle."

Yurta drew her dagger, blade gleaming dully by the light of the dying fire in the hut, and gave it to her son. He pricked his finger, squeezed it so droplets swelled at the end of it... and one fell... then another... onto the circles.

There was no earth-shattering wail. No flash of light. No shaking or gnashing of teeth. No-one disintegrated or burned. But when it was over, he felt something... born.

Now Mayla held the gladius to him, hilt first. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face.

"Take your blade, Razkar. And master it."

He did, and it began.

[Razkar]

He grabbed the gladius, but he felt it grab him as well. Some force reached out from that dead bone and pressed around his hand, gripping his flesh.

Yurta's eyes widened as his dark skin whitened where an unseen power pressed down, gripping him. Razkar gritted his teeth as he felt... her.

Her rage. Her anger. Her loss and despair, amplified but silent over the vast gulf between the Waking and the Dead. There were no words; no mouth to speak them. Just a sudden, powerful connection, waves of emotion flooding over him as if he had been tossed under a waterfall.

When he closed his eyes, he saw her face. Hateful and screaming, contorted and surrounded by wisps of fog. She seemed to... reach to him... travelling up his arm and into his brain-

His eyes snapped open, and he growled... gripping the new hilt tighter.

"I... do not... suffer... the dead..."

Yurta frowned in puzzlement. Mayla just smiled. Boy had her worried for a moment.

Razkar breathed in a channeled that self-same control that had him survive their encounter while Elanosa still lived. That fury and anger, tempered with the cunning that made her lose her own control, and thus give herself to him. He chuckled darkly, eyes focused but not on anything here... looking inside himself...

He closed his eyes again, and did not speak his words. He did not need to. It was between him and whatever shadow of life was left in that bone.

You were slain by my hand. I ate your guts. I took your scalp. I feasted on your body and now your bone is mine. Your spirit, your power... now mine. Fight if you wish, and burnish my strength.

Her screaming face crumpled. He felt the pressure lessen, bit by bit, until the trembling vanished entire. He smiled with his eyes closed, and saw Elanosa's features finally dissolve into true loss.

You are gone, Elanosa. You were strong... but I was stronger. That is the way of our people. Now... submit!

The final word was screamed inside his own head and with a final wail Elanosa vanished. But he felt a new surge through his body now. He swung the gladius experimentally, and it seemed to cut the air faster than before. It seemed... lighter, and not just because of the new hilt. His whole body seemed keener... sharper...

Razkar inhaled, and saw a beaming Mayla.

"It is done, Razkar. Remember our bargain."

Razkar of the Shorn Skulls sheathed his weapon and bowed to the old crone. She had done him a great service, channeled powerful magic for him. He would not forget that.

"I shall, mistress. You have my thanks."

They left, Yurta leading, of course, but now Razkar was by her side. They walked through the village and Razkar felt a new swelling inside him. When he placed a hand on the handle of his gladius, he felt it even more strongly. Yurta cast a glance at him and smiled at her son, gripping his shoulder.

"A better gift, my son?"

"Yes, mother." He reached up and gripped her hand. "Thank you."

A moment passed between them. Brief, as those moments always are... but with what they contained, they did not need to last forever. At the end of it, Yurta sighed and shook her head, a picture of bureaucratic weariness that she was utterly and totally not.

"Well... now all we need to do is hunt a tiger."

Razkar pondered this and finally grinned.

"We never said when we would bring it mother."

Yurta considered this, and grinned back, showing her filed, pointed teeth.

"I always knew you were my son."

"Father will be happy to hear that."

Razkar ran before the slap could touch him, laughing in the midday sun with his mother scolding after him.

[Traverse]

Thread Awards! Razkar : Experience: Carving 1 Malediction 4 Observation 3 Lore: Mayla: The Old One Carving Symbols for Malediction Malediction: The Art of Taking the Qualities of the Dead For Yourself + Gladius Effects Dual Effect: When utilizing his Maledicted Gladius, one of two things can happen: Razkar can see through his own blood lust, lessening the effects of his own rage and preventing the sort of lack of control that led to Elanosa's death, or the opposite will happen. Upon reaching a fighting frenzy (This effect wouldn't generally take place in something like a training bout unless it got really heated), Razkar will find himself consumed with rage, lashing out with bloody vengeance at anyone or anything in his way. In addition, the handle of the sword seems to stay in the hand better than any blade Razkar's ever held before. It can still be dropped and knocked out of his grasp, yet when it is there it seems almost magnetized to his flesh. Additional Notes : Unfortunately Razkar didn't do enough of the work himself to get the 5 points in Malediction, but at least now he's got a nice start for it. I really enjoyed your portrayal of Mayla, as well as Razkar's mental struggle with the deceased Elanosa. All in all this was a nice two part thread which includes everything a growing Myrian needs: Death, Eating you foes, Malediction, and some Mom bonding time. If you want to discuss the effects I gave the Gladius, feel free to PM me. Questions, Concerns? PM me and we'll be to the bottom of it. Safe Travels!