Myri

[Gossamer]

Myri Myri came from humble beginnings. She was a daughter of a warrior of one of the smaller tribes of the southern ranges of the Suvan Empire, in what would become Falyndar. At a young age, she hardened herself in the fires of battle, learning, fighting, surviving. Despite her younger age, Myri was declared chieftain by the elders of her tribe because of her strength, tenacity, tactical expertise, and her skills in battle. She was shrewd and cunning, and utterly merciless. Her fanaticism, her desire to see her people triumph, drew her followers and support. According to legend, she made a deal with Navre, the God of Cats, promising him followers in exchange for massive dire tigers, the ancestors of what would become known as the Myrian Tigers. Myri set herself an ambitious goal, a goal that had never been achieved in the region before, and was considered impossible. She planned to conquer the entirety of land around them, and rule it all. As the years went by, slowly but surely, one by one, Myri began to remove all opposition, everyone and anyone, who stood in the way of that goal. Other tribes were offered a choice. Join the growing empire, or be obliterated. What had been considered impossible was soon the reality, and Myri gained control. Her next goal was the construction of a city, a home, for her people. It didn't matter so much to her that each and every one of them lived there - she envisioned a center of operations, the trading hub which numerous villages were nearby, and a bastion against the forces from the north. The result was Taloba, a massive city named for her mother. With the construction complete, the various tribes elected to unite themselves under one name: they became the Myrians, in honor of the Queen; now worshiped as a goddess for her accomplishments. She bore four children: Miha, Tika, Aira, and her lone son, Zal. While she may have been worshiped as a goddess, she wasn't one. Ruros, the reigning god of war had heard of the savage queen's triumphs in battle, and that she was considered his equal by her people. While the savages of Falyndar had never paid tribute to Ruros, they did to this mortal woman, calling her the Goddess-Queen. He visited Taloba in disguise, and was so impressed by the fearsome woman with the bones in her hair that he offered to take her as his bride. She refused, and they fought. His remains were impaled in her throne room, where the skeleton is still displayed. She was called Myri the Usurper by some... but she claimed the title, the goddess of war, for herself. She has held it ever since. At the onset of the Valterrian, Myri ordered her people to take shelter in Taloba in order to try to protect them from the cataclysm. When it was over, they found that the changes were very much to their liking, and Myri set her remaining people on rebuilding, recovering, and repopulating... as well as reclaiming what was theirs: the entire region.

[Razkar]

Promises Born Of Blood

62nd Day of Spring
Anchorage Flotilla
1st Bell

The Flotilla never truly slept, but parts of it slumbered. Halfway between waking and dream, the ships were dormant as their crews bedded down for the night. They were still tethered to each other, available for use as thoroughfares at all times as per the Flotilla's rules, but it was the choice of the Svefra to use them or avoid them. Usually the Cuttlefish was not "out-of-bounds", as it were. There was nothing intimidating or forbidding about it... but things change.

A bonfire lit up the night from the middle of its deck. One figure knelt before it, still as stone and barely moving with slow, shallow breaths. His eyes for focused to intently on the dancing flames that it was like he was waiting for something. Watching them.

In fact, the reverse was true. Or so he hoped.

The figure raised his hand slowly, as if showing it to the fire. A kukri appeared in his other hand from the darkness, and a quick slash was made across his palm. Drip... drip... drip... a steady flow of glittering crimson into the bowl. He was silent until the drips became a splash as enough liquid had eked out of him. When the tiny pool was ready and primed, the words came.

Guttural. Harsh. Full of clicks and growls like a beast that was aping the speech of men. How laughable. This was the language of an entire race before humans had even begun their grunting cant.

"Goddess, ancestors, here my words this eve. Words I bring with humble offering..."

He clenched his fist and a pang of pain shot through him, neat slash in his hand pulled wider and flow increasing slightly. His eyes never wavered from the fire. It seemed to be... goading him now. Watching just as intently. Judging him.

"Goddess, look upon my steel the 'morrow with favor. Know your servant will claim scalps and lives. Will send you the souls of warriors. Will give you cause to rejoice in the honors you bestowed..."

The Myrian closed his eyes briefly, imagining with a thrill of barbaric pleasure the carnage he would reap in a few short ours, all in the name of his Goddess-Queen. The scarlet arcs... the screams and shouts... the clashing steel and flesh ripped from moist, fresh corpses... and above it all, him roaring to the skies and the face of that most terribly beautiful deity.

"Ancestors, smile upon my works. Know your son is worthy of his place among you. And our Queen will be honored in your son's offerings to her..."

He thought of his family, leagues and worlds away in the deep, distant jungle. They would all be sleeping now, he was sure of that, only to wake long before he probably would. Chores to be done, hunts to be made, a thousand details and tasks that a clan required to continue. He could see their faces. His family. His kin. His clan.

And the face of one lost to him. A radiant and terrifying warrior-woman, forever frozen in his adoring eyes as just that.

In a flash they all came to him. All those lose. All those slain in his presence, friends and family...

His hand tightened further and his teeth gnashed together. His eyes snapped open and raging black orbs glared at the flames now. The Goddess-Queen appreciated battle rage. It fed her fury and her holy wrath... but he held it back by a hair. Not here, and not even then, when battle was joined.

When needed. No other time.

He lifted the bowl high, offering it to both the flames and the sky, voice dropping to a humble whisper.

"I, Razkar of the Shorn Skulls, fulfill my vow, and pledge myself anew."

He drank from the bowel, slow and deep and thorough. When all the life's liquid had been returned to him, and by extension his Goddess-Queen, he licked his lips and relished the iron-rich tang. His eyes dropped... and they had not lost their steel.

Much left to do.

Without fear or hesitation, he reached out to the edge of the bonfire. Burning logs and debris were around its rim, blackened and dead and nothing but ash... which was exactly what he wanted. The Myrian's hand buried themselves in the mounds of ash until they were blackened and heavy with the spent, powdery substance. Then slowly, reverently, he began to spread it across his body.

First his arms and hands.

Then his face and head.

His torso down to his waist.

His legs... and his feet.

Dark and tanned became grey and dusky. For a flashing second he was reminded of the Yukmen, then angrily banished the thought, never to return. He was not mere monster. He was a Child of Myri, her arm and her blade in a dark and barbaric world. He was on Pilgrimage, and he would worship in the way he knew best.

Razkar stood before the bonfire, and with his eyes never wavering from it, he cut a shallow line into his cheek.

"Braten..."

The word was a curse and a benediction. With the second cut across his other cheek, it was whispered again.

"Braten..."

The blade moved down, questing and patient in his steady hand. He slashed open his pectorals one after the other, the side over his heart left for last. He barely felt the pain. He was not truly there anymore.

"Braten... Braten..."

He was with the flames.

"I will send him to you, my Queen..."

He whispered into the fire and the smoke and the glare and all that lay beyond it, dripping red kukri raised in salute.

"Him and all those who stand between your son and his offering. Flesh and bone and body... and soul."

A roar from the far horizon. Razkar's kind knew that it was the approaching storm the Svefra had told him about. They were a frequent thing this time of year, the changing weather creating chaotic constellations of wind and rain across their ocean.

His mind knew this. But his soul knew what it truly was... and he smiled with his filed, bloody-stained teeth.

Myri had answered him. She would watch her son come the dawn

[Sheshna]

Spring 4, 513 AV
Ahnatep - Her Father's Home, Guest Room
3rd Bell

There sit Sheshna, her clothes were dirty from being on the floor and violence. The girl's face wasn't lacking moisture, her tears simply pouring out. A river of pain came, she could only cry as she saw her surroundings. Her mother's blood was staining her clothes. It was another beating at the hands of her father. The Dhani had a hate of Myrian's most vile. His love of her came from being a father, her mother lacked this fortune. It wasn't something new, but it wasn't something that hurt her any less nowadays. Her mother ever resilient today as she had been for over 21 years, never backing down, having taken the beating with a grain of sugar as though it didn't hurt. She was a liar, wounds new and forgotten were split open yet again on her back. The Dhani's ferocious strength and temper left the woman lying nearly unconscious, unable to hold her spit . She usually was by the end of it, and as usual her mother refused to look her daughter in the eyes. Not while she was bruised, not while battered, not while bleeding, not while she was... weak.

Sheshna in her tears turned to the only hope her mother had given her. Myri, the great goddess-queen. "MYRI! Please, please, I know I've never seen you but petch please. Kanakanama, MY MOTHER! She told me your love for your children was unending. She told me you gave them strength so that they returned to their mother, you wished for their happiness, you wished for them to succeed. YOU! YOU! YOU! She told me that none of your children were forgotten, and that even in death it's your bosom they return to. Well here she is, here I am?"

Her tears came out stronger, the torrent reflected the hurting in her chest. Her heart and soul and body agonizing as her mother finally falling asleep, the next day she would hear her, but tonight's prayer was between her and the goddess, "I'm half Dhani, is that enough to hate me! Is that enough to spit on me with your absence! Is my mother not you're child! I spent my whole life hearing about you! How by your hand alone she was safe from danger, how as our great mother you loved us. I grew to cherish you, love you, I hold you dear to me but you hate me! Am I not good enough! IT DOESN"T EVEN MATTER! But please, she's hurting... please help her. It hurts too much to see her like this, please, I'm begging! I love my father I would kill myself if I hurt him, but he hurts her. NAME YOUR PRICE! My life? My soul? What do you need! I'm petching willing to give it all! If it's hate that keep you from saving her, hate of me, then take out that hate on me! Do unto me as the father I love has done to her! I only exist as some cruel joke. Surely though, if I give it all, and let you destroy all I am, than we would be even, if only you would save her."

"She will recover, but for how long! To be beat again and again! Unable to escape, how long will she last! Where is your love for your daughter, one who has been so loyal to you. She prays every night that you will somehow save her! She prays every night, she has put all her hopes in you. Please, you're all she has, don't let her down." The girl slumped to the floor, laying on her side looking into her mothers face. Her tears still riding down her face. She needed an embrace, one she wasn't gonna get nor could she give. Afraid to agrivate the wounds, she stared. Clenching her eyes closed, imagining that warm embrace her mother gave her. In the end weak people are weak people, she thought.

She was weak, her mother was injured, but she was weak. Never did the women even mention the pain of her life to her daughter. Kanakanama, a great mother. In her eyes she was the child's armor, protecting her from the world's wickedness, she was her sword, destroying anything that would harm her, she was her sun, always smiling down on her. She had never seen her cry for herself, only for her.

[Tinnok]

15th of Winter, 513 A.V.
Just before dawn

She woke with a start, heart pounding, eyes flashing open. Some would describe the color of those bright round orbs as fresh urine, two black slits centered int he putrid color, thin as a strand of panther hair for an instant, then widening out to more rounded points, breath slowly evening.

There was no danger, there never was, not now that she had fled the City of Bones and her home, murdered more of her brethren in order to stay alive. She wasn't sure how much energy would be used to track down a murderous traitor such as she. Would they hunt her relentlessly, or back off. If they were clever, knew anything about her they knew she would stay in the jungle wilds. Falyndar was a big place, but not so large that someday she wouldn't meet up with scouting party again...or they with her.

It was dark, yet already the screeches and warbles of birds, the steady thrum of insects filled the jungle around her. Those sounds told her it was safe, and the pulsating life and calm of the tree whose branches she slept in kept her heart from exploding out of her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, waiting until her breathing evened before she began to climb down, pack over one shoulder, bow slung across her body, spear stuck into her pack, knives covering her body.

She dropped down to the earth on all fours and made her way slowly over to the small stream that she had been following for the better part of a week. It had kept her well nourished and provided her with fish if she was nimble enough to catch their shining silver forms. If she hadn't been so petching scared for her life she would have enjoyed this desperate escape which she called her pilgrimage.

Tinnok bent down and cupped the cool clear water in both hands, splashing it upon her face as if that might clear up the nightmares that tortured her sleep. She sat pensively, waiting for the water to clear until her reflection only rippled slightly, a lightening to the sky allowing her to see the glint of her eyes and the faint glimmer of scales that was her flesh.

Slowly, and without thinking Tinnok began to un-braid her hair. It was long, dark, and slightly curly, and had only been cut a handful of times in her life, mostly just to trim the edges. Loose and wet it hung nearly to back of her knees.

Myrians rarely cut their hair short.

"But I am not a Myrian anymore, am I Great Queen?" She spoke softly into the water. "Perhaps...I never was."

Once, when she was truly small she had dreamed of riding a tiger within the ranks of Myri's elite soliders, commanding her own fang and murdering those villainous Dhani, driving them off the face of the land. But that was before she had ever been allowed to travel to Taloba, saw they way everyone looked at her, felt the sting of their words, and learned how deeply that hate was rooted within the people she shared half of her blood with. Before she realized that she was a Dhani to them, and before she had murdered her own comrades in order to defend one of those snakes...because he was a witch just like her.

She let the end of her dark hair trail in the water, a familiar knife sliding out of her pack. It wasn't very useful in a fight, so fragile was its black glass blade, but she had kept it as a keepsake from the horrid battle in the depths of that tainted cave, the one only she and Eagle managed to escape from, and to which she had returned to set things right again.

It's handle was once bone, but now so brown it almost looked like wood, wound in strips of dark leather. The twisted black blade glinted against the water. She pulled it around behind her head and hesitated for just an instant before she clutched a handful of hair, just beneath the base of her scalp...and began sawing away at it.

It took more than a chime, perhaps because hair was not the substance the blade was meant to cut through, perhaps because of how thick her hair was, but suddenly a weight lifted off the back of Tinnok's head and she grasped nearly a lifetime's worth of hair clenched tightly in one fist.

She gazed at it for a moment, blinked once, and then threw it into the small river, watching the waters carry it back downstream from the way she came, back toward a life she could never lead again. Slowly she rose, curious fingers running through hair so short she wasn't sure what to do with it.

"I have failed you Myri, and lived up to every expectation that Taloba had of me, but I am free, and given the chance to do it all again, my choice would have been no different."

She bowed her head low, then turned from the stream and began trekking back through the under story. She had much ground to cover yet, and had wasted enough time already.