[Flashback] As Far As Light Excels Darkness

[Colombina]

Toviel's eyes closed and he placed his hand over Abashai's. No words came. He looked at Abashai with fatherly gratitude. A stranger had come to him from across the sand and was willing to try where Toviel had failed.

Overwhelmed, the old man did not speak until Abashai began to leave.
"Remember the living are worth more than the dead," a solemn caution to not risk too much.

Two shallow ravines and low scattered mesas separated Abashai from the three Tsanas. It was a brief walk, but over uneven terrain. The animals congregated in the shadow of a ledge that stretched fifteen feet above their heads. Something that still drew flies was between them, while rags and vague white shapes were clustered behind them.
This upper ledge that curled over them was accessible by a narrow path that snaked up the back of the formation.

As Abashai stood at the base of this path, he could hear the Tsanas scratching and hissing, but could not see them. The way was too precarious for a broad Tsana, but a human or goat could move between the boulders and thin steps that jutted from the red cliffs.

Faith pressed Abashai onward, especially since he felt no twinge of encouragement or peace. However, there was no warning either. The Benshira was using principles from the Penitas to guide him where intuition was scarce.

[Abashai]

Abashai paused, gathering the will to climb the narrow path. He did not have it in him, and found himself in a moment of trepidation, sweating profusely. The Benshiran was no coward. He was fiercely protective, and had faced off against jackals and wolves, brigands and raiders. But never against tsanas...three. He had seen them before, from afar, and up close dead. A Chaktawe hunter had once described the creatures to him, that their long powerful tails could knock a full grown man off his feet, that they could pounce like a sand cat.

In lieu of a plan, Abashai turned to prayer. "Yahal, cover me in the shadow of your wings, give me the necks of my enemies and do not let them triumph over me." It was not original, but one learned by those studying warfare in the Seat of the Sons. Nevertheless, Abashai prayed it with fervency from his heart. There were tales in the Penitas of the Holy One delivering his faithful from great harm, aided them in great feats. He hoped his rekindled faith was sufficient to warrant Yahal's aid. He realized he was staking his life on it. The image of Toviel's desperate face flashed across his mind's eye, giving him a small measure of prupose.

Cinching up his sword belt and adjusting the bow and quiver across his back, the desert wanderer began to make his way between the rocks up the steep, narrow goat path. Arriving at the top, he quietly dropped, crawling on his stomach toward the edge. He could heard the tsanas shuffling below, so near. At the end of the ledge, he held his breath and peered over the edge.

[Colombina]

Abashai wriggled in the red dust to reach the tip of the ledge. Beneath him the Tsanas pulled at the sinews of a dead goat, shouldering one another for a better share. One Tsana raised its head from the glistening splay of innards.

It was confused, there was something different in the air. While Tsanas were formidable fighters and ill-tempered, they weren't the brightest animal in groups. The alerted Tsana trilled something to its fellows, but was ignored for the carrion. Realizing every distracted moment lost it more of a share, the monster returned to pulling the slick corpse to bits.

Surrounding the beasts were the remnants of of one of Toviel's tents. It was likely his last stronghold against the continual waves of disaster. Purple fabric edged in blue had been pulled down from tent poles tipped in ivory. The broken poles were splintered on the ground or still wedged between stones despite being half snapped. Evidently, Tsanas were no respecter of costly materials.
A sordid collection of human bones were in a pile behind the Tsanas. Birds and time had picked them clean leaving only a yellowish heap.

As the goat's corpse was growing smaller, the two larger Tsanas squeezed the smallest from the circle. They dug their powerful shoulders into the smaller one's chest, making it rear and snap uselessly at the sky. After propelling the lesser one back, the larger animals swept it away with their tails. It whined futilely and turned from the kill.

One down, as it descended the stepped face of the formation. After its first few steps, Abashai could no longer see the expelled Tsana, his ledge did not stretch far enough.

Then, a great shout rebounded between the stones, and a metallic shriek came from where the Tsana descended. Stones were clacking against each other and the loose earth was hissing with movement.
The remaining Tsana raised their narrow heads from the bloody mess. They stalked to end of their plateau and peered over the ledge. A hungry brightness livened their orange eyes as they considered the hidden scene beneath them.

[Abashai]

Abashai watched the scene below curiously. The beasts had not appeared to have noticed him, too busy rending the goats carcass to shreds. Unsure of his next move, the Benshiran saw his opportunity as the larger tsanas ran to the plataeu's edge. Abashai took only a moment to wonder what had befallen the smallest creature, or what had caused the loud noises beyond his sight.

Drawing an arrow, Abashai set it to his shortbow and let it fly. The missile struck a tsanas on the head, glancing off of its thick skull and merely opening its skin. It screeched, shaking his head. A second arrow nocked, the desert man sent it sinking shallowly into the predator's shoulder. The agitated beast shrieked and spun about to find the source of its pain. The creature strained to reach the offending arrow with its long toothy snout. A thin trickle of dark ichor began to ooze from the wound.

The hide is too thick for arrows, Abashai realized. He'd have to pepper the monsters with them for any hope to bring them down. Hik!. He watched perplexed as the wounded animal staggered below, circling itself in a vain attempt to remove the arrow from its shoulder. Thankfully, the second tsanas was still preoccupied with whatever had befallen its smaller fellow.

With his own heartbeat pounding in his head, breathes coming at a quickening pace, he drew the heavy khopesh blade from its sheath. Suddenly, impulsively and without a thought, as the angry behemoth strayed below his ledge, Abashai leapt off the edge. A cry burst from his throat. "Yahal!" Weapon raised over his head, the hunter landed with a bone-jarring thud on the creatures back, the sword already descending in a deadly arc.

Even as Abashai reeled from the abrupt impact, the steel blade had bit into the tsanas' massive shoulder, cleaving muscle and bone, leaving a great gash in the beast's flesh. The furious creature railed with a deafening cry, throwing Abashai from its back. He landed in a crumpled heap on the ground, rolling quickly to avoid the long sweeping tail. Pumping adreneline temporarily blocking the pain, the swordsman struggled to his feet. The enraged tsanas turned to him, its orange eyes livid. Beyonds its bulk, the man could see the other beast, bobbing its head between the happenings below and the battle behind, unsure of where to turn it attention.

The wounded tsanas slowly limped towards Abahsai , its narrow head snapping,its grievous wound reddening with the flow of deep crimson blood.

[Colombina]

Blood wound through the ridges of the Tsana's hide, flowing into the dust. The enraged beast began to crouch, its claws finding leverage in the ground. Its snout centered on the standing Abashai, with his back to the wall. Defying its size, the Tsana lunged with its claws spread.

Abashai felt a strange clarity. He could see the animal's terrible silhouette in fine detail, feel the uneven stone under his feet him and smell the metallic odor of blood. Instinct overwhelmed the Benshira as the monster descended.

A desperate slide to the right as his sword arced into the Tsana's left shoulder, almost cleaving its head from its body. But not without the animal's splayed left paw raking clumsily across Aabshai's side. It tore the Benshira's shirt and drew blood, before slamming lifeless to the ground.

The claws went deep enough to scar, but not enough to cause anything worse than pain. With the slaying of its fellow, the other Tsana turned from whatever held it spellbound over the ledge.

Abashai was pinned in its orange gaze. It smelled his wound and was livened by the aroma of torn flesh. The creature lowered its body, tensing for a struggle.

It made a feint to go forward, opening and clamping its long snout towards Aabshai, but this display of teeth was all show. Its tail was the weapon of choice, swinging around with enough force to break Abashai's ankles if he did not move fast enough.

[Abashai]

As the hulking , lifeless body of the tsanas slid to a halt, time seemed to stagnate. Every sense seemed heightened, finely honed. Abashai could feel the tickle of the thin rivelets of blood trickling down his side, smell the foul stench of death on the rock, hear the stony soil grind under his own boots. He noted the desert breeze, lifting stray strands of his long hair, cooling the sweat-soaked skin on his neck. It was a level of sensation he had not known. He turned to face the next orange-eyed terror.

His world exploded again into a frenzy. The second deadly tsanas raged and made his feint towards Abashai. The Benshiran squared up, focused on its snapping jaws. But the creature pivoted on surprisingly agile limbs, bringing its heavy tail to bear. Barely perceiving the attack from the corner of his eye, the swordsman jumped back, narrowly escaping the lightning quick tail lash.

Abashai lunged foward at an angle, attempting strike the exposed chest. He swung the khopesh, but the blade only traced a thin slash in the thick hide. He staggered backwards as the tsanas brought is toothy jaws about to snap. Smacking the snout with the flat of his blade, Abashai deflected the treacherous bite.

While avoiding the teeth, the man did not see the tail swinging around again. The end struck him behind the knees, sending him crashing to the ground. Air rushed from his aching lungs and did not return. Gasping for a breath, the Benshiran saw the beast crouching for a final pounce. He clenched his empty fist, realizing the sword was gone. Panicked, his hands reached desperately for the weapon. His left had closed around a broken tent pole.

The predator, sensing his prey's disability, pawed momentarily at the dirt, then sprang out of its crouch. Finding his breath, Abashai rolled forward to a low crouch, bringing the six-foot splintered tent pole up and setting the base against the ground. He braced himself, anticipating the tearing of his flesh by tooth and claw.

There was a loud shriek and a terrible weight crashed down on Abashai. He could not breath again, the weight prohibiting his lungs from expanding. There was pain in several of his joints and his head. The mass atop him quivered involuntarily for a moment, then fell still.

Abashai frantically struggled to free himself, finally extracting his body from underneath the dead tsanas. He examined the beast, the bloodied tent pole jutting out of the creature's back. Convinced it was dead, the man fell to his knees, exhausted and panting. "Oh Yahal, thank you!" After catching his breath, he painfully stood up.

Head still swimming, Abashai picked up his khopesh, now caked in blood and red dust. He staggered to the edge of the rock, to assess the fate of the third tsanas.

[Colombina]

Below Abashai the body of the smaller Tsana was on its side, its limp legs slung over the piles of rocks that made the path. The head was barely attached to the body, holding on by a few dark sinews. Its mouth was open revealing moist pink and white flesh, luminous against its brown skin. A dagger handle jutted out from its side, showing it had not died so easily.

Old Toviel knelt near the animal, wheezing and bent over his knees. A jeweled scimitar, once a merely decorative object in his tents was still in his shaking hand. Both hand and hilt were sticky with blood.

The battle with the lesser Tsana had drawn his strength. Even lifting his hand to shade his eyes was wearying.

"Abashai! You live." Toviel grinned up at the Benshira, "Come help a stupid old man stand again."

Toviel waited for Abashai to pick his way down the waterfall of ruddy rocks. When the tattooed Benshira was before him, Toviel clasped his hand to stand. His old joints fought against the exertion. He then patted Abashai on the shoulder.

"Two big Tsanas. I would never have believed it." Toviel laughed and coughed all at once.
"A son of Havid indeed." He shook his finger at Abashai, "Fortune has smiled on you."

"No, not Fortune."

The answer came from where Abashai had been standing moments ago. A human crouched wearing a sand colored tunic and a brown cowl that cast a shadow on his visage. Only the lower portion of his face was visible.

"A more familiar god than that."

Toviel's bitterness overwhelmed his awe.

"Where has this god been, then?" the old man railed. "When my family and tents were taken blow by blow? No," he shook his head.
"He does not remember his people."

The hooded messenger stood.
"Not remember you, Toviel? Can you chart the connections of the seen world to the unseen? Do you know the hearts of men and gods?"

Toviel cringed and said nothing as the messenger continued.
"Then who are you to pass judgment? No, Toviel..."

The messenger's voice moved in the wind, and winnowed through the flesh and Djed, seeking out what portion of the soul dwelled in the heart.

"He has not forgotten you. Could a parent forget a child they have raised? Even if they might, Yahal will not forget you. He is still faithful to your family, Toviel, treading beside them in realms where you cannot go. Forget you? He has written your name on his palms."

The messenger turned its bronze voice on Abashai.
"And for faith shown in deed, you shall wear his."

The messenger's eyes blazed white and blue, flickering like tongues of fire in its shadowed face.

"Faith is believing not that Yahal exists, but that Yahal is good."

The words had been spoken, and nothing remained. Only the humbled Toviel and the Shiber on Abashai's palms: the first symbol of Yahal's name. The gnosis seemed no more than a tattoo, it took yet more faith to believe its miraculous quality.

Abashai realized, with blackened palms he would have been unable to see this blessing, the first fork in his narrow path. Yahal had been faithful even when he had been faithless.

[Abashai]

Abashai looked at his hands. Gone was the gritty coating of red soil, the crimson stain of the Tsanas blood. All that remained was the inky Shiber character on each palm. His eyes returned to the mysterious messenger, only to find him gone.

Turning back to the godly markings miraculously etched in his hands, the veil that parted this world from a higher one lifted a bit and he saw a glimpse of the machinations of the divine. Revelation poured out upon Abashai. His God had not turned from him, ever. Even before that night when a confused Benshiran youth turned his heart from his family, from his city, from his God, Yahal had been operating on his behalf to make way for his future. The Benshiran's heart swelled, tears welled in his eyes.

Abashai fell to his knees in the dry dust, bowed his head and lifted his outstretched palms to the last golden-red rays of the sunset. He wept bitterly, his guilt spiritually splayed out before him, his voice crying out.

"Oh, Holy One of our people, you are a faithful God! Who am I, that you twist fate for my benefit? A decade I have praised you with my lips and with my instruments, but my heart has been far from you. Though I had abandoned the tents of my family, I did not go hungry or without shelter in a dry and desolate land."

"Though I have no sacrifice of flesh to offer, no fat of ram or bull to burn before you, I offer my lifted voice and soul in praise to you. My heart is broken before you, Holy One of the Benshira, cleanse it and mark it as you have my hands."

"Bless your name Yahal, and thank you for your strength today, for your goodness to a simple desert wanderer!"

[Colombina]

Abashai's praise and Toviel's thanks rose up like fragrant smoke to Yahal, better than the offering of incense or animal. He desired their faith more than sacrifice, their trust more than vows.
A steady, quiet voice passed from between the stones to their thoughts. There were words, but Abashai could not articulate them, it was grasping at the wind. It was a phrase of forgiveness and a god's ardent fealty to his sons. It brought peace and it brought courage.



OOC: Thank you for a fun thread! You have been awarded a gnosis mark from Yahal, which translates to an ability to temporarily draw tremendous physical strength and fortitude when all seems dark. (More to come in the writeup!) I also award 1xp in sword/khopesh wielding.