[Alements] Heated Discussion (Hirem)

by **Kavala** on June 23rd, 2014, 10:44 pm

18th of Summer 514 AV

It was impossibly hot. There was no doubt about it. But Kavala had the rare day and night off. Aweston had volunteered to take the babies and Tasi for the evening, which was nice because it gave Kavala a chance to be out and about. Aweston needed time with the children, being an uncle of sorts, and it helped him ease the pain of his own lost pavilion when he held babies of a new generation. He’d been smart though. While The Sea of Grass had fantastical breezes to keep itself cool, Riverfall had still air which Aweton had pronounced unfit to reside in. So he’d planned a day of making and repairing tack inside, where the children could be thoroughly watched.

She thought the heat wouldn’t bother her, but it had. Setting off early for the city before it got warm, Kavala thought she could get everything done before the temperatures soared in the afternoon. But the morning soon provided no comfort. While everyone else was heeding the fast breaking bells and clearing out of the heat, the Konti healers was heading into the heart of the city – its merchant district. The sweltering heat turned the Bazaar into a simmering illusion of rippled silk that trapped the smells and sounds close to the ground in undulating waves of heat that looked like bright blue water. Kavala tried to shop, but the crowds vanished as soon as the morning heat grew in intensity. So eventually she discarded her list, turned her feet towards the stairs that lead downward, and eventually came to the lower levels until she hit the lowest tier and made her way through the streets until she came to Alements.

The Sanctuary became too far away in Kavala’s mind as the afternoon approached, especially in such heat. Her reluctance to burn out in the blistering sun was partially to blame. But the covered balcony beckoned. It was a beautiful stone archway that covered seating for Alements and partially shaded the docking area. No ships were currently tied up so Kavala could enjoy the view of the plunge pool bay with very little obstruction. She picked a spot outside, where she could perch up on the thickly formed stone rail and lean against a pillar like a child… and left her cape draped there.

Of all the silly things… Kavala had brought a cape out into the weather to ward against morning chill not realizing the temperatures would be in the triple digits come midday. Then, abandoning the article of clothing to save her space and pad her rump when she came back, Kavala headed inside. Once inside, she got Elise to spare her some ice and a glass of lemon water, where she wandered back outside to sit up on the railing. Elise was usually free with the ice because she knew Kavala would be good enough to replace it and shore up her supplies if it were needed. The Konti got comfortable, swung her legs up on the rail, and swiveled sideways on it so that her back was against the pillar and stretched her legs out along its length, knees slightly bent so she could rest her chin on them childlike if she so desired. It would have been easy for someone passing her by to push her off to the plunge pool the balcony overlooked, but Kavala was not worried. Her Kontiness made drowning a least likely scenario, though the bay water indeed looked bathwater warm itself.

That wasn’t something Kavala was interested in taking a dip in at the moment.

So instead she sipped her lemon water, incredibly grateful for the ice that was in it. But as she watched, the ice began melting away. The heat was just too oppressive everywhere, even here where the breeze should have granted relief. There was no breeze for the potted wisteria growing up and through the stone work were not rippling like tell tails on a ships rigging.

Her ice was gone in an instant. So Kavala reached up, gripped the glass in her hand, and blew res onto the surface of the liquid, willing its state to freeze. It took a delicate touch and just a sliver of power to shiver across the surface of the lemon water. She moved her hand down, reaching for power through the glass and tapped the liquid inside freezing solid the bottom two inches. She curved a finger and tapped on the ice at the surface, breaking it up, so the liquid could both be sipped at and would still be chilled from above and below.

Kavala signed. They were in transition in life… all of them. And it merited reflection. The gods were giving them room to breath and placing no immediate tasks before them. Kavala suspected it was to get Caelum ready for more to come and to also give her a chance to get her school built and put in place as a cover. The Ruv’na would never suspect the Cytali of running a formal training institute for animal healers. She was grateful. It gave her a chance to get more things settled, start a few projects that were being neglected, and simply BE.

Sometimes BEING was the hardest thing of all.

Kavala sipped at her lemon water again then transferred it to an empty spot on the rail in front of her feet. She opened her palms, both of them, and reached down to touch the stone that had been formed of her res. Its song rose up to greet her, welcoming and familiar. So she closed her eyes and lost herself to that song, letting her awareness travel down into the stone thereby letting its whispers fill her heart. She signed, her face taking on a soft expression of pleasure, and her entire body relaxed. She seemed to melt against the pillar she leaned against and let her awareness run through the entire dock structure, checking her handiwork and making sure there were no signs of stress or weakening. She remained still, barely breathing, throughout the whole thing until finally she opened her eyes and smiled. The stone was happy, strong, and doing its job. There was nothing more a reinmancer like her could ask for.

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by **Hirem** on June 24th, 2014, 4:56 pm

Ledger :

Hirem was growing to love the Alements tavern, and he was growing to hate the Alements tavern.

The reasons that he had for enjoying the tavern were limitless. Caelum's establishment had a lot to like; the building was beautiful, the atmosphere cozy, the clientele unique and varied, and the service that it provided was simply invaluable. This was a place of healing, even more so than the House of Mercy in Yahebah, for here one could receive the soothing gift of medicine, the comfortable touch of ale on the lips, or the reassuring presence of friends and companions. To simply stand within Alements was to know peace, for here was a sanctuary for men and women, the weak and the strong, the feverish and the feeble. Hirem had never been inside of a tavern without some duty forcing him inside, but he was starting to warm to the idea of visiting Alements with no purpose in mind. The duty-bound Benshira was slowly starting to accept the fact that sometimes he had just had to be content, to sit and relax and be himself.

Unfortunately, it was a far darker purpose that usually brought Hirem to the door of Alements, and it was for this reason that he was growing to hate the tavern. For night after night, the Benshira was beset by the same awful visions that had plagued him throughout the last four years, unrelenting in their torments, ceaseless in their pained howls. He had found only one "cure" that could knit his scattered mind back together come the mornings, and only one place in the city where it could be found: Caelum's tavern. The man was a genius with potions, more skilled than any Benshira that Hirem had ever met, and so he found himself constantly relying upon Caelum's aid to get himself through the wearisome nights. It sickened him to depend upon medicine so, to use Alements as a crutch when he had no reason to be crippled... and, at the same time, he knew that he could not return to surviving the nights alone. He looked at this place - at the smiling proprietor, the gracious server, the cheerful patrons - and felt nothing but a hollow place ringing, deep in his soul.

Today, it wasn't even a nightmare that had sent Hirem scurrying back to Alements, with his tail tucked between his legs. A fight had broken out at the Rat Hole between two armed belligerents, who would have hacked each other apart with their swords if the Benshira hadn't stepped in. After he had parted the two attackers and sent them out of the tavern, he had reached down to pick up one of the fallen weapons... only to realize that it was a gladius. The sight of that blade in his grasp had unleashed a torrent of memories - of Netanel, of Savra, and of the dreadful storm that had thrown them both into Hirem's world. She had tortured him to the point where no healer could fix the damage, he remembered, forcing me to end his pain before I got a chance to repay my debt. And then I... I... The sweat had started to run down his brow then, and his hands had begun to shake violently.

And then I threw myself at her. I fought more savagely than I had ever fought before. I wanted to do more than kill her... I wanted to destroy her.

Waiting until the end of his shift had almost been too painful for Hirem to manage. As soon as the damnable Tom Volus had given him the go-ahead, not without a great deal of caustic remarks, the Benshira had thrown himself out of the Rat Hole and had gone sprinting towards the distant Alements. Though his body was experiencing the great heat and humidity of Riverfall, the sun's glare pounding into him from above, his mind was trapped within the caverns of Hai, the prison cells of Ahnatep, and the sandstruck plains of Eyktol. He ran towards the tavern, not just to procure more of his medicine, but escape his troubles, leaving them behind in the dreadful desert of his birth. He knew, however, that he would never truly be able to escape the Burning Lands. It has branded me as the master brands his slave; once desert-borne, forevermore desert-owned.

Thankfully, Caelum was accommodating to his sudden request, quickly brewing up his tincture and asking for the usual price. To the healer's credit, he cracked no jokes, made no funny statements, and tried not to have too much fun at the Benshira's expense. Once the beverage was finished, Hirem quickly paid the Alement owner, thanked him profusely for his time, and made his way to the tavern deck. Outside, the weather was sweltering hot, even this close to the sea, but the heat did not bother the native Eyktolian. He approached the railing, haggard and blind to the other patrons of the tavern, hand clenched tight around his bottled tincture. Staring out to sea, his gaze lost in the immense Suvan - wondering if, perhaps, he would ever able to find an actual cure for his condition in this immensely large world - Hirem sighed, uncorked the bottle, and drained it all in one go.

He doubled over from the intensity of the drink, his knees quavering dangerously and making him throw his weight against the railing for support. It might have snapped and sent him spinning into the docks below, which at least would have managed to cure his troubled mind, had he not managed to regain his strength and push himself back up to his feet. I don't think I'll ever get used to the taste of this medicine, he decided, recalling the first time that Caelum had brewed it for him. Feeling the sudden clenching of his throat, Hirem also remembered becoming parched the last time he had drunk one of the healer's beverages; reaching for the waterskin at his side, the Benshira tilted his head back and greedily slurped from the waterskin, savouring the cool taste against his cracked lips. He didn't stop it until he had drained the waterskin completely, at which point he returned it to the belt at his waist.

His gaze once again travelled to the Suvan Sea, and a wry smile crossed his features. "So strange," he murmured to no one in particular, "that such a little thing can save a man's life. Water... if it is so essential, why then did you lead us into the desert?" Hirem stared now into the sky, his hands clenched around the top of the railing. "Why did you rob us of life?" he accused, directing his question to his maddening god. Then, as if ashamed, he hung his head low and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Forgive me, father Yahal. I was wrong to speak - you have done nothing but sheltered us from the worst of the world's dangers. I only... I only tire of being so weak." Sighing, Hirem reached up and placed his hand on his heart, his tone absolute with penitence. "Forgive me."

It was only then that the Benshira realized he was not alone. Turning his head slowly, he stared in awe at the strange woman that sat on the same railing he leaned against. Her body, skin, hair, face... she looked a human, save for the shimmering scales that marked the sides of her neck. The hair was stark white, a colour that Hirem only rarely saw adorn a young woman, and her clothes looked to be bought straight from Rosela's fancy store. But, more than anything else, it was the look of complete and total serenity that marked her features that engaged the Benshira more than anything else, suddenly making him dearly envious of this woman's peace. Is this... is this one of the fabled Konti that I hear so much about? I've seen them before, but only ever at a distance...

Abashed that he was staring, Hirem slowly nodded his head. "Falim, friend," he began, stubbornly sticking to his traditional Shiber greeting. "It is good to meet you. My name is Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa. I would hate to disturb you, but... I must ask, how is it you find so much peace on a day like today? Most people I know are struggling with the heat, yes? Yet you are... very calm." The Konti are legendary healers... perhaps this woman will know what is wrong with me?

Word Count :

by **Kavala** on June 24th, 2014, 10:01 pm

Hirem would not have made the assumptions he made gazing at Kavala through his pain wracked eyes had he seen her in her usual guise. Dresses lightly designed for coolness in the sun wasn’t her normal attire. She often went about in warriors leathers armed to the teeth with braces of daggers and a double bladed long sword that was clearly longer than she was tall. Today though, today had been an exception. Kavala felt that no one would even remotely be in the mood to fight in the weather they were experiencing. Blades just seemed somewhat overkill. Clearly, she would admit to assuming wrong, if Hirem’s experience of the day was ever brought to light.

But as it was, the man’s stumbling form awoke her from her reverie with the stone she’d lovingly built. It caused her eyes to widen and her awareness to snap into the now instead of be lost deep within the stone singing beneath her fingers. She swung to the side, legs dangling on the patio side rather than the water side of the pier. And as the big Benshira struck the railing, she was glad indeed it was thick stone for she felt he would have gone right through wood.

Bare feet went from hovering in the air to gently touching down on the warm ground as she slid down from her perch and headed towards him. Kavala, twice marked by Rak’keli, was infused with his pain. There were no wounds she could sense, but something else had him in its grip. Concentrating, she felt total body exhaustion and all the problems that went with it. The compulsion to help was strong, exceedingly so, as the man quaffed whatever brew Caelum had undoubtedly philtered up for him and seemed to pray for it to take effect. Her friend was a good healer, one of the best, but she hated to see a man in the shape this one was in.

Kavala offered him a friendly smile, closed the distance between him, and caught his hand up in her left before he could protest. “Easy….” She muttered, lifting her opposite webbed hand up and stroking her scaled palm across his forehead. Her touch and even the sounds she made were akin to an animal handler soothing a feisty camel that was out of sorts for a reason only his handler might understand. She muttered softly again… “Easy…. Stand for me…” Her words were singsong as he felt power flowing from her body into his.

Muscles unwound, their tightness perhaps unrealized as the tension eased with their relaxation. His stiff neck broke its strangled lock and relaxed, loosening his jaw and the tension in his forehead. The Konti closed her eyes, everything about her nonthreatening as she touched him uninvited. He could feel the healing course through his body, relaxing his heart, opening his veins, letting his blood flow more freely. Even the arches of his feet relaxed in his thick desert boots. She kept a grip on him, pushing more of the energy into him, freeing the tension utterly and making him feel for the moment like he’d slept for a million years and awoke without the stiffness of not moving while the time had flowed around him.

When she finally released her grip and stepped back, her blue eyes were the color of ice and filled with concern. “I can only help the symptoms, but what ails you seems far deeper than Rak’keli’s work can do. There is nothing wrong with your body. It is a strong fine body that should carry you well into old age. One of your knees will stiffen before the other, but not for years… Hirem. You could use more water though. It would help with the headaches. It has been my experience that the people of the desert go without when they surrounded by a bounty of it out of habit not out of necessity.” She said softly, backing up a step or two and giving him his personal space back.

The Konti released her grip on him altogether, knowing she could patchwork his exhaustion away. But with no apparent wounds her assumption was that his mind had experienced trauma that his body was reacting too over and over again. “I am Kavala Denusk. The owner here is a friend of mine so I come here often when I am in the city and want a break before heading back to my home. I am a healer of sorts, though I rarely work on people. More often I tend to animals and Kelvics. But the compulsion is the same regardless. Rak’keli bids us to help where we can. We have no choice in the matter.” The Konti said, resuming her perch on the railing.

“You asked your God… Yahal… why you he lead you into the desert. You asked him why he robbed you of life… but I have known a few of your people and they are some of the smartest cleverest people I’ve ever met. Deserts are not without water, not really… all you must do to understand that is butcher a camel and see how much water is in its flesh. I had a friend once who talked about the Burning Lands and how the plants hid water cleverly everywhere and it was just there for the taking if you were as smart as they were. It seems to me your God picked a match for his children that would utilize how intelligent they are… for whom else would be able to thrive in such a place but your kind?” Kavala offered with a smile.

“I know my sisters would not. We would die of loneliness so far from the sea.” Her smile was wistful then, and she reached down and stroked the stone. “As to your question, Hirem… I find peace everywhere. It is in the rise of the sun and in the smile of a friend. Here and now it is in the song of this stone. When I put my hands on it, I can hear it singing to me… calling me… whispering secrets about it and everyone it touches. Just because a thing has no life as we know it doesn’t mean it doesn’t have something equally valuable. This city is alive. Each house is alive. Each door you can walk through has a story and wants to tell it. You only need to know how to listen to understand that.” The Konti said, reaching up and running her hand across her hair.

The wind from the bay had loosened most of her braid. So her busy fingers carefully pulled the leather that held the braid from her hair and began to reweave the strands of her locks back together. “You are a long way from your people.” Kavala commented, and then met his gaze boldly. “Care to share why you have traveled so far? Does it have to do with why your body is in such a state? I would hazard you are not sleeping… at all.” Kavala said, tapping into her utter mastery of medicine and of the human condition. Someone hurt him or he’d hurt someone. The Gods had made him a pawn perhaps. She was curious now to know the why of it… and even wondered if it was worth a stray hair or the wipe of his lips across a discarded vial to Dreamwalk his past and try and understand it.

Count: 1,245

by **Hirem** on June 25th, 2014, 1:15 am

His first instinct was to recoil away from the scaled hand that traced his brow.

His second instinct was to close his eyes and let himself wash away in the comforting touch.

By all rights, he should have retreated the second he saw the Konti woman approach him. Reputed or not for their peaceful ways, the Konti were also well-known for their innate magical abilities, their strange "gifts", and magic was something that no Benshira would tolerate being practiced upon them. Rakva! His senses screamed at him. Witch! The second he saw her approach him, his fists should have been up, warnings already erupting from his throat. Who knows what her touch might cause? Perhaps her heart has been touched by pride, like Sagallius, and she seeks to use her magic to control me? Even if he did not fight her off, he should at least have made some effort to defend himself.

But something stayed his hand. He was caught staring at this woman, this foreign Konti woman, as she approached and could not even muster enough energy to take a step back. Instead, his gaze was caught in those eyes - those eyes of frosted blue! It was a wonder that his jaw hadn't slackened yet; it took every ounce of willpower he had to avoid gawping at her as if she were an actual fish that had just waddled out of the sea. He didn't move as she finally closed the distance between them, and could only note her surprising strength when she reached out to grip his hand. If she had a mind to, a knife could be plunged between my ribs and I would never notice it. I would drop to the ground within a matter of seconds, struck dead as suddenly as if I was hit by lightning.

Hirem was helpless. Helpless to resist, helpless to thank her... he froze completely at her touch, transforming into a statue. And as he stood there, his life in her hands, he began to feel the sensation: the pure, unrestrained life that flowed from this woman and into him. He was almost too scared to breathe, but found that air could breeze out of his lungs with less difficulty than ever before. Everything in his body bled tension, turned soft and buttery, his legs shaking quietly underneath him. Breaking the spell, Hirem closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking a quiet breath, feeling his heart relax in his pounding chest. An orgasm of relief had just come over him, unlike anything the Benshira had ever experienced before, and he knew exactly what had just transpired: magic.

So it is true. The Konti is a witch. Centuries of tradition continued to whisper to him, Rakva! Rakva!

He listened to her speak quietly, bright eyes staring intently into hers, his hands crossed behind his back. "“I can only help the symptoms, but what ails you seems far deeper than Rak’keli’s work can do," She said, drawing worry from him. Rak'keli... is he the master of healing, then? What hope have I if even the god of cures himself cannot do a thing to save me? She said even more: "One of your knees will stiffen before the other, but not for years… " Wonderful! Now the witch has predicted my eventual laming! Is this one of her Konti gifts, or some other part of her dark magic? But as she backed away, Hirem cursed at himself underneath his breath and hung his head, ashamed at his own thoughts. What is wrong with me? This woman stepped in to heal me, not destroy me... even now, all she is doing is trying to ward me away from illness! Why should I be cross with her? Because she uses magic? Because she isn't human?

Embarrassed by his own stupid, senseless prejudices, the Benshira sighed and kept his head bowed as the woman - Kavala - returned to her cozy spot on the railing. He stared at the ground as she spoke of his god, and his own frustrated question, and realized with a start that she was actually praising his people. Praising them, when most in the city did not understand a single thing about his ways! This Kavala... and her friend, Caelum... they might just be the wisest individuals I have had the pleasure of meeting in this city. Why, even great Rapas would be delighted to speak with them! This was undoubtedly the closest Hirem had ever come to a true mystic; Kavala defied explanation and existed as a being unto herself. Under his breath, he spoke softly to himself. "Not just thrive... but welcome the challenge... my people would endure a thousand trials and more just to prove themselves to our lord."

And he stood and listened some more, as the Konti explained where she found her inner peace. "This city is alive. Each house is alive. Each door you can walk through has a story and wants to tell it." Slowly, he raised his gaze from the floor and looked back at her, his mouth slightly agape, his mind struggling to comprehend the enormity of Kavala's world... struggling to make sense of majesty. I stumble and fall and trip on myself, in a search to find peace. I have left my homeland in search of it, something I never once thought I would dare attempt! How is it that I cannot discover this serenity, while Kavala finds it everywhere around her? It is because she chooses to find peace there, to make it for herself. And I - I cannot convince myself that it is truly peace. He felt on the verge of a cliff, staring over the edge and into a winding chasm below... but instead of fearing the fall, he welcomed it, for the winds were soft and carried him on faith's wings.

And now she was beckoning him to speak. Taking a deep breath, Hirem slowly nodded as he approached her perch, coming to stand just a ways apart from her at the railing. His eyes fluttered to the watery horizon, and his great hands settled upon the stone railing, clenched around it. Unlike other attempts to explain his past, the Benshira felt no need to try and conceal his pain from the Konti woman, for she had glimpsed into the heart of it already. "Six years ago," he began in a low voice, "I made a mistake that ruined my entire world. I was believing that Yahal had given me a quest, when in fact his voice had never reached me, and in my haste to please him, I..." His head bent low with guilt, regret, shame, and weary resignation.

"I sinned. I sinned greatly, and then directed others to do the same. I had charged myself with a crusade filled with hate and bitterness, and in my deluded mind, I thought it was the Benshira people I was protecting. But, in reality? I was protecting none. I was destroying lives." He felt a sudden and inexplicable urge to destroy something; in the absence of something to break, he tightened his hands around the railing. He knew that this wasn't what she had asked for at all, but something about this Kavala compelled him to explain everything to her, even when he had refused to do the same with Caelum. "It took something truly horrible to shake me out of that nightmare, to make me open my eyes and realize what I had done. And ever since then, I have been trying to make amends for the great wrongs that I have done."

"I am here because... I traveled here because..." This part was the hardest for him to explain, for it truly made little sense in his mind. It didn't have to make sense - he had merely closed his eyes and let Yahal take him where he willed. "I felt trapped in the desert. I wandered for years and years, searching for answers, but not finding any. I became... lost. Confused. Broken. I didn't know who I was anymore. By chance, I came across a caravan heading north, and something in me... just decided to accept this as Yahal's will, and travel with them. Their road has brought me here, and it is here that I intend to stay, until Yahal gives me another sign."

Abruptly, he turned about and looked to Kavala again. "I have had trouble sleeping, yes. I cannot sleep without returning to the dark places in the road behind me. And I am here," he gestured to the tavern interior, "because your friend Caelum brews medicine that comforts me. Now, let me ask why you have come here, for are Konti not drawn to the White Isle?" His eyes betrayed his simple curiosity in asking such a question, but he nonetheless kept up an intent gaze that matched wits with hers, challenging her to respond likewise. For if Kavala was going to receive an open window into his soul, he would at least challenge every step she made into his life's tapestry.

Word Count :

by **Kavala** on June 25th, 2014, 3:08 am

The healer stood stoic through his fear, his helplessness, and his overwhelming need to be somewhere else… and through it all Kavala just saw the courage in his stance. Men carried their emotions in their eyes, though like this one, sometimes that was conveyed with blankness – an absence – of any or all sensation coursing through their dark gazes. He was strong, she decided. Perhaps he was even far stronger than he knew. And he had traveled a long way to get here on a path he was only half aware of. Humans were like that, enduring short lives that made the urgency of their actions all that more potent. They rarely understood how bright they burned even though their flame only lasted such a short while. They had things in abundance other races did not. And yet they rarely saw it even in their own hearts.

Kavala knew when to keep quiet. She knew when to just be present in the moment and listen for a telling that was so slow in coming that she herself could feel the weight of its disuse on Hirem’s tongue as he spoke of it. He might have thought of it frequently, but she knew immediately that it was probably not something The Benshira talked about much.

She let his words roll over her and let them sink deep into her pores. It wasn’t the specifics that were important. Sin, the way the faithful saw it, was sin regardless of the details. He told her of his transgressions. There were no details, but Kavala understood well enough what it meant to have people die at ones own hands. She knew what it was to be misguided and deceived, even if the deceiver was ones own will. The Konti tilted her head, her eyes softened, and she continued to take in his words. His accent had a softness to it that would sooth a child or a wounded thing regardless of what their meaning held. And even as she’d touched him to loosen his muscles and relieve him of his exhaustion, Hirem’s words did a little of that for the Konti in turn. She appreciated stories, even of the vague sort, and wondered if Hirem knew he had a gift for tales.

No. Most likely he did not. For standing there she could tell he had no idea what he was and the sort of shadow he cast upon the world. Blue eyes snapped to the railing, locking on the grip he had upon her stone. It was stone she was still touching, still listening to its song, and she could hear the music change under his hands.

The tale continued, granting no detail but speaking volumes regardless. Kavala could close her eyes and see the cloak of misery and guilt Hirem wrapped around himself composed of reflections – like a shattered mirror - depicting some sort of destroyed idea of perfection. His pain was almost tangible. She could feel it and it echoed through his body and leaked outward. The Konti longed to reach out, pluck the individual shattered pieces out of his aura, and begin to piece them together. The only problem was no one could heal someone like that. Only the people broken by their own actions could sit down and gather up the mess they’d made of their lives and put it all back together.

He continued to speak into the silence between them, talking of the oppression of the desert and his wanderings. She wondered how many miles had passed beneath the heels of his boots and how many sights his eyes had gazed upon before he settled here. Was this the end of the line for him or just a flicker of notability on the unwinding ribbon of his path?

When Hirem was done speaking, Kavala let the silence stretch out until even the echo and pain of his words had drifted away on the salt wind. When she did speak, it was slowly and thoughtfully with more conviction than she had intended.

“And yet a ruined man does not stand before me. Nothing about you speaks of being broken. I would know, being what I am.” The Konti said softly with a voice that brokered no argument. She took a breath and leaned closer, not because they had company on the veranda or because people were listening. No, the heat had driven most everyone away. She leaned closer to catch his attention and hope beyond measure that he would understand the message she wanted to convey.

“Everyone has flaws. No one is without mistake or misstep in their lives. This fact does not lesson your crime or guilt, but it is something to consider nonetheless” Kavala said abruptly. She reached up and stroked her long hair which was caught up in a braid. She tugged on the interwoven length, trailing her fingers down to the end where she twirled her finger around the lone one or two strands at the very tip. Her face was pensive, thoughtful, and seemed clear of purpose before she met his gaze once more.

“I believe that the Gods set us on a specific path to sometimes fail as often as we succeed. I do not think they wish us to fail, but I do think they allow us to do so in order for us to be able to grow. If we do not make mistakes, take missteps, and get our souls tempered with pain we cannot expand as people. Pain witnessed is not nearly as acute as pain caused by our own transgressions and thus it does not temper our souls as well. These events… these actions… cause us to think for ourselves and outside the realm of our teachings be they from our parents or from our Gods. If you donned a white cloak etched with Yahal’s winged sign and did only what you were told and felt only what you were allowed to feel, you would cast no shadow in this world and walk this life living nothing but a whisper of existence.” She said, taking a moment to reflect before speaking again.

“Then, Hirem, what good would you be to Yahal? What good would you be to anyone? I think the Gods are the wisest of all of us. But they do not want flocks of sheep following them. We are their children, not the meat and milk and wool they utilize to survive. And like any parent, the ones who nurture and have goodness within them, they want us to be as brilliant as we can be. How can you be anything but a stone if all you do is lie upon the ground waiting for others to pass by your resting place or say water to wash you downstream?” The Konti said, pausing and shaking her head.

“No… Yahal let these things happen to you for a reason. You are here for a purpose. And I suspect I know why.” The Konti said, looking very thoughtful and a little bit afraid. She dropped her voice further, turned for a moment to stare out into the bay, and then glanced back at him.

“This city houses hatred. There are other places and other dens of such things in the world, but here they are amassing anew. The Gods have enemies among the mortals and often they cannot see them to fight them themselves. So they send their warriors, their trusted and their chosen, toughening them up along the way to make sure they are bold and courageous enough to face what is here. They have a name… this enemy. And they are filled with hatred for the Gods. They cut down the marked of the deities of the world, with no consideration of which God or why one is marked. They knock down their temples and torture their priests. They hate that the Gods have influence here and draw in their minds that we are naught but yoked oxen to those we serve. It is no coincidence you are here, Hirem. I can feel your faith resonating from you like a light in the dark. But you must be careful. They will see it as well and they will cut you down for standing with your Lord and not against him.” Kavala said softly, knowing full well she was right.

Count: 1,376

by **Hirem** on June 25th, 2014, 12:29 pm

“And yet a ruined man does not stand before me."

The words, so simple in hearing, sent a chill across Hirem's entire being. They made his shoulders bend inwards and his hands, no longer holding onto the railing for life, fold over each other restlessly. His eyes, shining with an inner determination but hooded with fatigue, flicked over to the Konti woman, staring at her quietly. Does she not have the gift of sight? Can she not see where the cracks in me lie, where the scars of battles long past have exacted their toll? He did not know whether she spoke honestly or intended to flatter - although, judging by that tone, he expected that it was the former. What kind of woman was this Kavala, that she could ignore the still keenly-felt pain in his past, as well as his constant struggles to determine who exactly he was, in favor of calling him strong? Was she blinding herself to the evil and the misguided parts of his soul? Or did she honestly yet see good in him?

He could not accept the idea that he wasn't broken. It made no sense to him. How could he be called whole, when something as simple as a bump in the night could send him into a blinding, overwhelming panic? How could someone call him strong, when he lacked the power to exorcise long-passed demons from his mind? No, I am ruined, despite what Kavala says. What I am afflicted with, is the antithesis of strength. It is weakness given form, reducing me to a crumbling mess with a mere thought about something from my past. Every childhood impression he had made about strength did not coexist with the crippling pain that infested his mind daily.

And... as Hirem reflected on the issue, he realized that he was perhaps reluctant to give up on the idea that he was "broken". Though the thought of him resorting to such a crutch disgusted him, perhaps he had grown so accustomed to feeling incomplete that it was easier to accept than strength. After all, strength carried its own burdens; responsibilities were entrusted to those that could bear their load, not only concerning the self but also the many. In another life, I might already have become a father, or a leader of a Tent. But instead of bearing such a duty, I am here, still discovering myself in this city on the edge of the world. All this time, had he been escaping normal life by convincing himself that he needed to repair a wounded heart?

Who is this woman? He kept thinking to himself, gazing over at Kavala constantly. She speaks with the wisdom of an ancient, but, judging by her looks, she cannot be much older than me. Were the Konti a long-lived race? Was this chance encounter with Kavala incidentally bringing him into contact with centuries of carefully researched knowledge? He wasn't sure. He could only stare at the mystical healer beside him and wonder what kind of life she had led before fortune had brought her to this patio, on this day, at this exact bell. No one in this world can live an innocent life and be able to speak with as much experience as she... I wonder if my life's troubles compare to hers? He didn't treat this conversation as a chat between peers, meant to be enjoyed in the moment - it was more like a chance to learn from and bask in the presence of a Rapa. Every word was to be cherished, for each was a gift directly from the mouth of wisdom.

"If you donned a white cloak etched with Yahal’s winged sign and did only what you were told and felt only what you were allowed to feel, you would cast no shadow in this world and walk this life living nothing but a whisper of existence.” This was a particularly hard concept for Hirem to accept: the idea that his faults, that his sinful past, could somehow make him better tempered for a life in Yahal's service. All his life, he had believed the opposite; he had believed that his duty was to erase the sin that he had wrought, for such was the essence of a pure life. One cannot embrace purity if they still have the chords of evil ringing deep within their heart. Could the Benshira accept his past transgressions as a sign of Yahal's will? No. He would never consider such heinous acts a part of Yahal's grand plan - the god encouraged him, did not command him, to do good, and would never have steered him willingly into the dark places that he had trod. But perhaps he could learn to accept the past for what it was.

“No… Yahal let these things happen to you for a reason. You are here for a purpose. And I suspect I know why.” At this, Hirem started, turning to her with a new look dawning in his eyes: confusion. How can I not understand why my path has led me here, and yet Kavala can see the road that my god has created as plain as day? Has all of this been a test, and the Konti secretly been one of Yahal's messengers? A part of him could scarcely breathe, convinced that this was it, that this was finally the sign that he was waiting for his god to send. Finally, I will understand why I have been brought to Riverfall. Another part wondered how much Kavala could truly assume of his god's intentions, given that she bore no marks from Yahal and was beholden to others. More than anything else, Hirem was interested in what the healer had to say, and listened to her attentively.

And what this paragon of wisdom had to say, did not disappoint.

As the Konti spoke, the Benshira initially struggled to understand what she was referring to. Enemies of the Gods? Who might be so vain and arrogant, to think that their mortal life can contend with the infinity of a god's power? Can mortals even combat gods? I would attack Rhysol's designs with every ounce of strength in my body and not rest until I succeeded or died, but I would never dream of being able to challenge the god himself. But as she continued to talk of these unknown enemies, Hirem eventually came to a revelation. Of course I have no knowledge of these opponents! For if they consider themselves enemies of the gods, no land in Mizahar will shelter them... they must, by their very nature, remain in the shadows or else rightfully be destroyed. Though he was sure that what Kavala was describing was unrelated, his mind flashed back to his journey in Hai. There were creatures there that spit on the gods, light and dark... creatures that lingered in the dark, for the open flame burned their miserable eyes. By chance, has Hai's evil begun to seep into the world at large? Or is Hai only a symptom of the larger problem?

"Any man that seeks to cut me down," he began, shaking his head, "because I serve a god is only interested in being served himself. No matter what noble pretensions these opponents may have, I know their kind well: they are ungodly only because they themselves reach for mastery of the world." The arrogance of believing that the gods, one and all, were deserving of destruction was infuriating. Hirem knew what pride, easily-corruptible pride, tasted like in his mouth, and had experienced the maddening rush that being the arbiter of life and death allowed. But what Kavala was speaking of... was insanity on a whole other level. To strike at a god is to reach for their station, and in doing so, one becomes the very creature that they seek to kill. How could one deny both Rhysol and Yahal in the same breath, he wondered, and could not find an answer. To battle against the gods is to rage against both the light and darkness in the world, all at once. What then do you believe in, if you devote yourself to combat against both purity and evil?

Power, Hirem thought. Power in its simplest form.

Pressing himself forward into the railing, it was now the Benshira's turn to lean over and grab the Konti's attention. "I have never heard of these enemies before, for their existence cannot be... understood?, in Yahebah. But I know that you are speaking the truth, for I believe in the arrogance of man, to know that some might dream of destroying the Ukalas themselves." He brought up his hand and laid it flat on his heart, bowing his head respectfully. "I swear to you, that I will not make light of the gift you have given me. Always my eyes will be turned towards the shadows, wary of those that might seek to snuff Yahal's fire... and I also promise you that they will not succeed while I still draw breath." He spoke, not with a cocky, aggressive tone, but simply and determinedly. He made it clear to Kavala that he would not just talk of action... if these enemies showed their heads around him, he would challenge them.

"Tell me more about these benachags. Tell me everything."

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by **Kavala** on June 25th, 2014, 5:33 pm

Kavala watched the Benshira’s facial expressions carefully as she spoke. She liked the way he thought things through, carefully absorbing the words of others before he spoke. It gave her the impression he was a thinker of keen intellect and not just a blind follower of the teachings of his people or his society. She had no idea, of course, that he had a mental dialog running through his mind that was akin to a master debater pleading a weak case with a strong talent. If she had, perhaps she would have reached out and slapped him, intent on slapping down the rhetoric inside him, and not in fact the man before her. But his inner voices were his own and perhaps with good reason.

Kavala was no Seer.

Her eyes had begun to drift from his, tracing the lines of his face and the width of his shoulders. Her gaze had moved to his arms, his hands, and had crossed his hips and roamed down the length of his legs as if to judge his physical strength. Kavala was bold in her assessment, liking what she saw in the man’s mind and wondering if his body could be trained to match his mental fortitude and intellect that she deduced from the words they had exchanged thus far. His next statement solidified her judgment.

Yes. He had it right as far as she was concerned. Men only wanted to rid the world of the Gods to have mastery over it themselves. But it was more than his words she responded too as she nodded her agreement to his statement. She responded to his tone, his passion, because therein was his own power. Hirem had a fire banked in him, a powerful one that was fed by conviction and ideal. She could feel it keenly and longed to drop her hands from her beloved stone railing and reach out as if to a fire, and splay her webbed digits wide do feel it radiate off him. Was it that tangible that she’d feel heat? Kavala suspected it was so.

There was more than one kind of power in the world. Men as shallow as the ones she spoke of only saw the obvious kinds. But the man before her displayed another sort altogether and it was the kind of power that lasted despite its frail housing. Hirem’s life was fleeting as a human, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a huge impact. He was old for it though. She suspected he was late into his second decade, maybe perhaps his third. It wasn’t too late, no not by a long shot, but had her or someone like her gotten to him sooner then it would have been by far better.

Kavala again nodded to his words. And at his expressed conviction she felt the keen weight of her duty to Nysel on her shoulders. She knew in this lifetime she was to gather, recruit, and educate. She was to identify those people that had souls that burned bright and unite them against the very real threat to the gods. Like Hirem’s love of Yahal, Kavala too loved a God – several in fact – and did not want to stand by wide-eyed and worshipful when she could put a weapon in her hand and defend them and back up her love with action. Hirem could do the same… if he so chose too. And if he had guilt which Kavala equated to red ink in her finances, then the best way to wipe it out was by paying it back. Hirem might have a lot to pay back, but she suspected he had the conviction to see it through if it was the sort of road he decided to start down.

She couldn’t and wouldn’t make the decision for him. But he did ask of her the one thing she could do for him… give him information and educate him. And while there was a lot of secrecy in her life, one thing she knew was that trusting her instinct had never steered her wrong. And this man… radiated to her a trustworthiness that didn’t make her hesitate one bit in imparting the knowledge she had.

The only thing that made her pause was were to call a beginning and were to call an ending to her story. Life wasn’t linear. It was circular. And she did not know what beliefs the Benshira had in those regards. And so she took a moment to gather her thoughts, deciding finally to tell him everything as she knew and let him sort it out for himself rather than trying to filter it or tailor it to his understanding. The former delivery method would lean upon his intelligence while the latter would assume his ignorance and pitch the information in a way that may or may not be true for his perspective.

“It is a long story. And it circles through many lifetimes. So forgive me ahead of time if what I am about to say confuses you or asks you to … suspend what you may or may not hold as beliefs.” The Konti said softly in the form of a preamble.

“They call themselves The Ruv’na. They have been in existence for almost as long as the world has been here and there have been humans. They are primarily humans because their kind rarely recruit but instead raise their followers among their ranks. They keep to themselves and raise their children in a way that is strict and unforgiving. The men lead and pick strong women who will bear hearty offspring, and she does so frequently and repeatedly until there is nothing left of her. Then, almost from the time the child can walk it is raised with the belief that the Gods seek to enslave us. When we are teaching our children songs and giving them toys, they are teaching their children to hate and giving them weapons. From an early age the children are trained to be killers. Their first toys are not rattles, but blades that are incredibly sharp. They are taught to obey without question and their rites of passage always involve the death of their enemies. Children kill other children and teens older than they are. By the time they are teens they are well into their mastery of death and are killing adults and the very old. To be fully recognized within the organization a priest must give up their life to one of their youth. This almost always happens to those ten and older. To marry and rise in ranks, a temple must fall to ones’ careful undermining.” Kavala said, meeting the Benshira’s gaze. She paused for a long time after that, rummaging the recesses of her own memory and nodding to herself as she laid out the next words she had to offer.

“When they are far enough along in the organization and have enough blood on their hands, they are given a power that is perhaps the Ruv’na’s greatest secret. This power was one that the Gods themselves invented to control their followers that had gone rogue utilizing their power. Even if a God marks a follower, they cannot always control that person or keep them acting within their interests. They are not… infallible. So… they took their combined powers of all the Gods that were in existence at the time and combined it to form a new magic. This magic was a pact among the Gods made to help each other out when someone goes astray. I’m sure there was a reason for it at the time, but its something lost to us now. Perhaps a Gods champion acted out against him or her. Maybe a powerful follower tried to usurp the power of one of them. I can only speculate. But this new magic they made had one purpose and one purpose only…. to interrupt the commune between a God and His or Her follower. It renders the Gods power inert within its use. So this magic blocks all gnosis from flowing to the marked and doing the Gods will upon the world. It is called Static. And the Ruv’na stole its knowledge early on as the singularly most powerful tool they could hold to render priests and followers useless so they could kill them. And they teach it to their high ranking members as a reward and as the ultimate tool to fight the Gods themselves.” Kavala said, looking into the Benshira’s eyes. She wanted him to understand the gravity of the situation, how dangerous these people were, and what real threat they posed.

“There is a catch though. Static cannot block all the Gods powers that are in the world now. The newly born Gods and Goddesses did not partake of the weaving of this new power so the Gods like Sylir who have died and been replaced by a son will not be effected by Static. I met the man who caused the Djed Storm of 512 that destroyed so much. He released the God of Fire, Ivak, from his lifelong prison. He was Ivak’s Champion. That storm was caused by the power that was released when Ivak’s Champion set him free. When the walls were brought down, the storm came into the world. It would have been much worse, but people were there that stole the power and became Gods and Goddess’ themselves. We now have Peace and Fear and Possibilities and they are utterly immune to Static as well.” Kavala said, shifting her stance now so she was sitting cross legged on the wide railing. She leaned back, a breeze finding the loose strands that had escaped her braid and looked thoughtfully into Hirem’s eyes.

“You said you came here on a road. I can tell you came here with no reason in mind other than instinct or perhaps Yahal guiding you. And you asked me why I am here. I came here on Call. It is something Konti feel that compels them to leave their homes. I was never born in Mura though. I only went to the White Isle for my medical training. I was born among the Drykas and consider myself one of them more so than a woman of The White Isle. I came here to start a healing clinic for animals and Kelvics, but more so than that, I’m here because I’m bringing a group back into the world that has long been lost to it…. one that serves the Gods and fights these men that would destroy them completely.” Kavala said, hesitating only a moment. This was the right thing to do. This was the perfect timing. He was trustworthy completely and she could tell him and trust that he’d take it to his end. And if he couldn’t take it to his end and the Ruv’na got the words from him, then she was in a stage where she could defend and protect what she’d built.

The Konti glanced carefully around then continued.

“The school will be a cover for this group and a place for us to do some good when we are not fighting our enemies by educating youngsters and sending them out into the world to do some real and true good. And while we teach we can observe and the best and brightest from its classrooms can be gently and carefully cherry picked to be introduced to the group to carry on the fight.” She said simply, knowing that was the whole of the truth of it. Funny though, it hadn’t been something she’d voiced to herself before or really had wanted to admit. But it was the why… the whole why… and the driving force behind her wanting the school to get open as soon as possible.

“Now… have you heard enough or do you want to ask me how I know all this? Some things you can hear once and forget, but none of this is something your mind will ever let go of Hirem. Ask me how I know all this, but if you do, know that I think you are here and I am here because we are meant to have had this conversation and that your road was supposed to lead you here because here… finally… you can do some real good and I can help you do that.” She said softly, her voice lowering even more. “And if you don’t want your road leading here… to where Yahal does not hold the ultimate sway but instead only has an equal voice in a fight that is bigger than either of us, then don’t ask me and move on because you are not ready.” The Konti said, gently reaching out and touching his arm.

To Kavala touch was everything… a single gesture could convey more than ten thousand words… and if his mind was open and he was good at reading sign… then her touch would say welcome home in a thousand languages even though her lips had grown silent.

Count: 2179

by **Hirem** on June 26th, 2014, 12:18 am

“It is a long story. And it circles through many lifetimes. So forgive me ahead of time if what I am about to say confuses you or asks you to … suspend what you may or may not hold as beliefs.”

Already, Hirem was lost.

Lifetimes, did she say? As in, more than one? Somewhere, deep in his heart, a valve closed shut and a flush of cold raced through his upper body. The hair on his arms stood tall with electric energy, the chill on his back making him want to sit down. By the gods, what have I stumbled into? He felt dizzy, not just from the heat, but from anticipation of the enormity of what Kavala was about to reveal to him, and placed a hand on the railing to steady himself. In Eyktol, one couldn't enter a city without beholding magnificent accomplishment, for the fact that cities existed at all was an achievement in the hostile Burning Lands. The walls of Yahebah and Ahnatep both were older than time allowed, and always had filled Hirem with a keen sense of insignificance when compared to their steadfast glory. Even Hai had filled with a disturbed sense of appreciation, for the tragedy of its long history and the faded glories that it used to represent. But the idea that what Kavala was speaking of - monsters seeking to displace the gods themselves - had been in existence for many lifetimes without ever becoming public knowledge made him feel terribly, terribly small.

Even if he wanted to deny her now, refuse to hear her story and shut his eyes to the greater world, Hirem knew that he had no choice but to listen. When one comes across something as widespread as a centuries-long crusade against the gods, they are helpless to do anything but discover more, for what will they find in their lifetimes that can eclipse such a thing? But of course, he wanted to discover more. It wasn't just to satisfy some belief that this was what Yahal had intended him to discover when he was brought to Riverfall. I might have ended my journey prematurely and say that Yahal had always desired that I discover the existence of purple-skinned men. Hirem was genuinely furious at the possibility that there were men in the world that sought to destroy the gods. He feared for Yahal, of course, and feared for what might happen to his people if their only patron was removed from heaven; he also feared for Laviku and Atoll's Svefra, the Chaktawe and Makutsi, the Akalak and their twin gods. He feared for the removal of faith itself, for faith truly was the strongest power that Hirem had ever embraced, and its destruction would annihilate life as he knew it.

So he listened. He listened intently, he listened quietly, he listened and memorized every detail, for he knew that the Ruv'na had just earned themselves an eternal opponent.

"When we are teaching our children songs and giving them toys, they are teaching their children to hate and giving them weapons. From an early age the children are trained to be killers." Again Hirem was reminded of Hai, but this time he was able to manage the memory with a clear mind, consider it without falling into despair. Conditioned for hatred... their childhood replaced instead with education in the darkest twists of the world. I wonder, did the original founder of the Ruv'na crawl out of a prison similar to Hai, where he had known nothing but brutality and death? The creatures that stalked the ruined city's hall shared the outlook of the Ruv'na, for they had been born into and lived solely under darkness. The flames of hope, kindness, and generosity did not extend to the bowels of the earth, where the murderers, thieves, and lepers of old Hazadhar warred against each other eternally. To hear that the sickness of Hai, the disease of hatred, had spread far beyond the prison's walls filled him with a sobbing rage.

Kavala had not yet revealed the worst, however: "But this new magic they made had one purpose and one purpose only…. to interrupt the commune between a God and His or Her follower." Impossible, was Hirem's first thought, his entire body stiffening in shock. Impossible. He had imagined that the end goal of the Ruv'na was to destroy the gods and thereby remove the ability to believe in them, remove the foundations of faith from the world - but this was something far, far more monstrous. To rip the connection between man and god apart, to mute the god's commands and deny their advice to the confused mortal races... the Benshira could imagine no worse crime. For we need the gods, and the gods need us. The divine and mortal worlds were meant to be joined, not torn asunder. Hirem tried to comprehend what would happen to Yahebah if connection to Yahal was impossible. The answer was clear: this "Static" would destroy everything his people believed. To think, I had once thought Eypharians our greatest danger.

The Konti's references to the Djed Storm confused him, for he truthfully did not understand much of what had caused the calamity. He knew only of the Storm's intensity and the scope to which it had affected Mizahar, but it's origin had, until now, eluded him. His eyes went wide as he tried to comprehend what Kavala was telling him. Ivak was... imprisoned? And it only took one mortal man to release him from his chains? How could this be? The fact that new three new deities had arisen on the same day that the Djed Storm had been unleashed boggled the mind, made his head reel with the implications. A god of... fear? Peace? Possibilities? There is such a thing in the world now? Perhaps this kind of cataclysm was what the Ruv'na feared, motivating their ruthless campaign? That cannot be, Hirem immediately decided, for they cannot think that, by killing the gods, they will save the world from future disasters.

And, finally, Kavala revealed more of her past, giving him greater insight as to why he had come to trust so entirely in her. The Call... something that compels the Konti to leave the White Isle for something foreign? For a brief second, Hirem indulged a humorous thought and tried to imagine that he had secretly been a Konti seer his entire life, and had never understood it until now. Kavala's affiliation with the Drykas, however, gave him a possible connection between her and Caelum. They must be united by more than just friendship... for both are something greater than a human, yet have an undeniable connection to the horse lords of Cyphrus. Her final revelation, however, was the most significant: "I came here to start a healing clinic for animals and Kelvics, but more so than that, I’m here because I’m bringing a group back into the world that has long been lost to it…. one that serves the Gods and fights these men that would destroy them completely." A shudder traveled through Hirem's body, a curious note being struck in the chords of his heart... one of determination? Hope? He could not truly tell. Is this what I was supposed to hear? Is this the message I have been searching for all along?

He couldn't bring himself to believe entirely in Kavala's words. Absolute faith was something he reserved only for Yahal, despite the fact that this Konti woman struck him as the most wise individual he had ever met in his lifetime. The Ruv'na sound terrifying... but without seeing their work firsthand, I cannot be sure that they are even real. And this school that Kavala intends to build... would it not just be an example of the Ruv'na's tactics applied against them, training children to become the new soldiers in this eternal war? At the same time, however, Hirem found himself trusting in Kavala a great deal, for she had demonstrated equal trust by revealing these secret plans to him in the first place. I am wrong to doubt her decision to build this school, for while fresh blood would be constantly necessary against an enduring opponent like the Ruv'na, I know that this woman would prove far kinder and more understanding than her foes.

She had done her part in explaining the nature of the Ruv'na to him. Now, Hirem knew that it was all up to him: did he leave now and remove himself from the conflict, or did he stay?

He could hear the wind whistling through the open patio, feel the burden of heat press down upon his sweating brow, hear the crashing of the sea against the cliff of Riverfall. Glancing down, he looked at Kavala's pale hand resting on his darker arm, a gesture fraught with meaning. She touches me as if we were acutely familiar, for, in truth, we are... she has seen into the depths of my soul and knows what lurks within my heart. She knows me better than I know myself. The touch was comforting, and it would be easy for the Benshira to just nod fervently and say that he was devoted to hearing out the rest of her story - but he could not bring himself to do that without giving the matter serious thought. I've lost too much embarking on false pilgrimages. Instead, as much as it pained him to do so, he broke away from Kavala's reach and approached the railing.

In the distance, the Suvan rumbled, an alien landscape that continued to mystify Hirem. He had never lived so close to an ocean before, and still felt himself get lost in its tumbling, always-changing beauty. Even just standing near it made him feel alive, with the spray of the ocean breeze against his face and the sound of the waves rocking steadily against the shoreline. The Benshira closed his eyes and bowed his head, reaching forward to grip onto the railing with both hands. Just like the nearby sea, his mind was a tumultuous cascade of different thoughts, emotions, and desires that threatened to capsize him. I asked my god for a duty, and it appears that he's led me to one... but from the sounds of it, to invest in Kavala's cause is to throw myself headlong into another war. And I've had enough war for one lifetime.

The truth was, he was afraid. The last time he had devoted himself so completely to a fight like this, everything that he had ever loved crumbled around him. I was left alone, cold and miserable, in an Ahnatep prison cell, forced to confront the enormity of my sins. I never want to fall into a trap like that again. What if he took a stand beside Kavala and found that her campaign was just as misguided as his own... or, worse, what if he corrupted his charge with thoughts of senseless violence, and turned the once noble duty into an act of evil? He feared the worst in himself. At the same time, something about this cause made him feel differently. Perhaps the change had come because he was older, wiser, more seasoned, or perhaps it stemmed instead from the fact that Kavala and other noble souls would be around to help him, but...

He felt more sure about this than he had felt about anything for a very, very long time.

His gaze returned to matching Kavala's, his body shifting to face her. His face was... strangely composed, despite the fact that it had been torn with anguish just a few moments ago, fretting over the decision he had to make. All of that confusion seemed to have vanished now, replaced instead with a stubborn dedication. "I am not sure I am the man that you believe me to be. I am unsure if I am ready for this type of burden. But - I know that I want it." Then, sealing his fate: "Tell me how you know all of this. Let me join your fight."

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by **Kavala** on June 26th, 2014, 10:00 am

Kavala met Hirem’s gaze firmly and held it a moment before he began to speak.

The healer knew that what she told the man would weigh heavy on his soul. And in a way that’s what she was counting on. If he was weak, spineless, and without reservations he would have jumped on her words, asking her a torrent of questions or perhaps he would have laughed outright in a mocking disbelief. But Hirem did neither. Instead, emotions seem to fly across his face as her words sunk into his psyche. He was listening, at the very least, even if what she said was borderline fantastical. But Kavala had something many mortals on Mizahar did not. Kavala had faith. She listened to her instinct, and every bit of what her mind was whispering had to do with trusting this man.

If she was misguided then it would be a hard learned lesson. But Kavala didn’t think she was.

And when she closed her explanations with a question… no a demand… he didn’t respond right away. He looked thoughtful, seemed to fall apart, and then strangely drew himself back together. There was no other way she could explain what she witnessed in the lines of his desert-born face. He expressed his disbelief in her words. He also expressed his disbelief in his readiness. Fair enough… both were quite possibly true. But Kavala was looking deeper, seeing more, and following her guts. He would need a lot of work, much more than he realized, but in the end she thought he could be far more than he thought possible.

And truthfully Kavala loved surprising herself, exceeding her own expectations, and coming to the realization that she inside was not who she had set out to be but was rather a thing molded under the world’s hands and forged in her own passions. And those passions included the need to live without fear in safety, to be able to protect oneself and the ones she loved, and finally to never stop learning and growing. This man might not understand that about her. But it did not make the facts any lesser. Kavala did not know how to quit. She did not know how to NOT follow through with something she promised. And she didn’t quite know how to master ignoring her gut. And her gut told her to tell him everything.

So she did.

Lifting up her leg and displaying her ankle, she revealed the double twisted winged snakes. “I am marked by Rak’keli, the Goddess of Healing.” She started… then inverted her hand to show another mark. “Eyris has also marked me and her realms include Wisdom and Knowledge.” The Konti went on. “But my most active lord, Nysel, has also gifted me with his sight…” She said, turning and running her hand over a place on her back where she could not bare the skin to his eyes due to the dress. “I am a Dreamwalker. And to understand Dreamwalkers, one must understand a bit about the world.” Kavala said, shifting her position so she was standing… so she could pace.

Some explanations were harder than others.

“Every man woman and child born has something called a Chavi. You can visualize them as a silver chord, infinitely complex, that ties you to the Ukalas. You cannot see your Chavi, but everyone has them from the moment their soul begins to exist. And your Chavi carries on from this life to the next. It is marked with your birth and life and every moment of your existence from the beginning. Your Chavi grows as you pass through multiple lives, becoming more and more complex. And that Chavi is… a record of your life. Within it all your memories are housed.” Kavala explained, her eyes scanning the area suddenly, double checking to make sure they were alone.

They were. She seemed to relax.

"The Chavi are housed in a place that is neither this world nor the world of the Gods.” Kavala said, spotting what she was looking for suddenly and moving to a nearby table. She plucked an orange up from a basket of fruit laid out there and carefully peeled part of it until it was only half without its peel. Then, as she divided the half of orange between them, offering him a few slices, she used the remainder of the orange as an example.

“The realm we live in as mortals is called the living world. It is like this peel… firm, hard, protective, but small in the sense of the size of an orange.” She took a moment to savor a slice of the fruit and then continued on with her explanation. “The sweet fruit inside is the Ukalas, where the Gods dwell. It is a land of infinite space and power.” She explained, and then came to the section between… the white part of the orange beneath the peel but above the fruit. “This part, this bitter unsavory part, is like the Chavena. It is an in between place dividing the Ukalas with the Living world. It looks like a vast black plain filled with colorful strands of light. Those strands are the Chavi of people living. You have one there, I have one there, and they are linked to us here and our bodies. They carry the history of who we are.” Kavala explained, smiling slightly.

“Eyris, the Goddess of Wisdom allows those that are marked by her to reach out and touch and object and know its origin or important things about it. Everything we touch can hold a memory of that touch and what their purpose is for.” Kavala said, backtracking just a bit. Then she moved forward.

“So I can heal from Rak’keli and I can know things by touching them as gifted by Eyris. However… the greatest power I have is from Nysel, the God of Dreams and Nightmares. He gives his Dreamwalkers access to the Chavi. They can walk their own Chavi and walk the Chavi of others that they know and learn about who they are. They can learn about who they are so intimately that to walk another’s Chavi is to live their life and know what they know.” Kavala said as her now over bright blue eyes meeting Hirem’s more deeply colored ones.

“I walked my Chavi and knew that I was born, a few lifetimes back, among the Ruv’na and trained with them until I was seventeen. This was before the Valterrian. I was a killer by age five. My father was their leader and went by the name Eclipse. I was called Crescent. I was sent on my final mission before I was going to be given rank and married into the upper echelon of the Ruv’na. My final mission was to kill the leadership of Nysel’s Dreamwalkers. I very nearly succeeded. But in the end they thwarted me and my youth failed me in the light of age and wisdom.” Kavala said, looking thoughtful and meeting Hirem’s gaze again.

“They did not kill me. Dreamwalkers are ever so resourceful. They walked my Chavi and learned about my upbringing and the truth behind the Ruv’na. But they recognized all my training, and so ones that were more adept marked multiple times by Nysel went through and rewrote my Chavi. Sometimes this can be done. And when it is done, the memories change within a person’s head. They do not know anything is wrong or different if it is done by someone skilled. So when I awoke, I thought I was among family and that I was chef of their security. I lived a very long healthy life serving them without even ever knowing that once, when I was seventeen, I made a mistake with an assassination, and my entire life changed.” Kavala said, smiling slightly.

“It was the best of lives after that… dangerous yes, and fraught with a battle that’s been waging since the Ruv’na came into existence. For since that time, the Cytali... the group that transformed my life, have fought under Nysel’s guidance and other gods like your own. They have waged battle and kept the Ruv’na weak. A time or two they thought the Ruv’na were destroyed. And then the Valterrian happened.” Kavala said, shaking her head.

“The god of fire fell in love with Kova, the Queen of Suva and the Valterrian happened. Most of the Dreamwalkers alive died. Most of the Ruv’na did too. But some survived, as people tend to do, and now the Ruv’na is rebuilding and more powerful than ever. The Cytali have been absent from the world for five hundred years until I was born, marked, and became away that this has always been my duty. Now I mean to bring them back. I know their ways intimately. I know I can. But I need the people to do so… the right people. And the people I need have to be willing to fight to protect their deep seeded unchanging love of their gods.” Kavala said, scanning the veranda once more.

“I tell you this because its something you need to think on. I feel like your God brought you here flawed and bleeding because here you can heal, have a purpose, and become the weapon I suspect Yahal thinks you can be. This war is not going to be won overnight. It will not even be won, most likely, in our lifetimes. But half of the war is setting the stage and putting all the players into play again. When I set eyes on you…. I recognized you. I have not walked your Chavi nor would I without your permission. But we know each other, Hirem, and I suspect this is a battle you’ve long been involved in. You do not have to say yes. You do not have to get involved. Because I think if I look, you’ve probably already done more than your fair share. But if you want it, and if someday you are ready for it, the doors will open here too you. Because you are very welcome, much needed, and someone I suspect we have well loved.” Kavala said, nodding to herself, and strong in her conviction that this fact, at the very least, was true.

And finishing her words, she peeled the rest of the orange, discarded the peel in the water, and divided up the segments, offering half to him.

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by **Hirem** on June 27th, 2014, 1:38 pm

The moment Kavala first revealed her Gnosis Marks to him, Hirem understood then why this woman, who truthfully did not seem that much older than him, could be infinitely more wise and knowledgeable in the world. Anyone that bears the touch of multiple gods is truly blessed, for one god alone cannot form the entirety of the world. Life cannot be composed solely of the earth, of healing, of evil... and yes, of faith. Though Yahal is the only god that I can truly love, I know that his powers have their limits. To be beloved by many gods is to be the paragon of what mortal life can aspire to. Earlier, he had felt that talking to Kavala was akin to discussing life with a mystic, whose ways were shrouded by secrets and whose eyes could glimpse far greater truths than he could aspire to. But he was wrong; this was more akin to talking directly to the gods, for surely more of their presence was reflected in Kavala than any other person he had ever met in his lifetime.

But this last god she mentioned, Nysel... Hirem could not remember where he had heard the name before. And she calls herself a Dreamwalker? What can that possibly mean? He listened intently to her explanations, struggling to understand... and becoming more and more shocked by what she had to say as time wore on.

"Your Chavi grows as you pass through multiple lives, becoming more and more complex. And that Chavi is… a record of your life. Within it all your memories are housed." This revelation alone boggled Hirem's mind; his brow furrowed, and his lips parted as if to ask a question, although of course he could not bring himself to interrupt Kavala. It frustrated him to try and picture this Chavi, invisible and unknown to him, tying his insignificant mortal life all the way to the glorious realm of the Ukalas. Does that mean that every single mortal life has been touched by divinity, even those unmarked by Gnosis? How can that be? How can the gods pay attention to the great multitude of souls, save for Dira, who only sees them when they pass from the world? Did... did the gods even create the Chavi? From what Kavala says, they are neither of the mortal world nor of the Ukalas, but then... where did it come from? Why does it exist? All these questions and more puzzled Hirem to no end.

To be honest, the truth of the Chavi... frightened the Benshira. To think: all of his memories, the entirety of his life's experiences, was hanging by a thin cord to his easily perishable body, stranded somewhere between this world and the next. It made him feel that much more fragile, to think that his life literally existed in the width of a single thread, weaving through the dangerous and muddled tapestry of life. Worse yet, he wondered, Could my Chavi be tampered with, by some force that I cannot even see? Could some creature pounce upon my Chavi and make me forget my entire life, and then whisk away before I get a chance to stop it? Fear of the unknown - as well as a general sense of utter bewilderment as more secrets of the world were revealed - made him instinctively want to bury his head in the sand.

But the far more impactful revelation was the fact that this Chavi recorded, not just this life, but the lives he had led previously. The Benshira had never, not once, considered the idea that he might have lived more than once in this world. It made him feel... weaker. Less in control. Less unique. As if the actions he did in this lifetime meant nothing, for they were only being repeated from another ages past... or, worse, that they would be rendered null by the next existence that he experienced. Do my choices even matter, or are they simply following a pre-established pattern? Does Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa, matter in the grand scheme of things? He couldn't even begin to comprehend the possibilities of what his previous lives had entailed... and fancied, briefly, if the reason his life as a Benshira was inclined to disaster was because someone had placed a curse on him.

One thing was for sure: Hirem had never imagined that he'd come to understand the way the world really worked by staring at an orange.

He realized, as Kavala spoke of her time as Crescent, that his own impulse to tell her everything about his life was being shared by the Konti woman... in fact, it was magnified in her, for she was telling him about her life and all of its variations. She admit herself that this group that she has resurrected to fight the Ruv'na must operate in secrecy, and she keeps checking the patio to make sure that we are alone. If the wrong ears hear of what she has done, her life will be in danger... knowing that, she still has chosen to speak to me. The level of faith that she was placing in him was enormous, especially considering the fact that they had just met and were currently speaking in a very open patio. If he truly were a spy, and this had all been a trap to get to speak of the Cytali, then there wasn't much she could do to shield herself from listening ears. It was an honor to be held in such high regard by this fascinating woman, prompting a small smile to emerge on the Benshira's face. I must not disappoint her, for her trust is both a compliment and a gift to me.

More than that, he was grateful to Kavala, for explaining these simple truths of her world to him, that had long been obscured to his limited perspective. I would never have imagined that it was love that had caused the Valterrian, and never that it was Ivak's love. I had always thought of him as a... brute, an uncontrollable beast... Now I see that my view was tainted by the enmity of Eyktol for the god of fire and heat, who controlled the very thing that made their lives difficult. And all of this talk of Chavi, Chavena, Cytali, Ruv'na, Static... At times, it became too much for him to take in all at once, prompting him to step away, rip his gaze from Kavala's, and try to reach a compromise as to accepting it. It would be so easy for me to just deny everything she says as witch-speak, or think of her as a foolish Rakva interested only in bewitching me... but that would be a disservice to the incredible trust that she has placed in me. Just as Kavala was demonstrating faith in him, so too would Hirem give her his faith; he believed everything she had to say, and struggled only to understand.

Even when what she had to say was fantastical, far-fetched, and just plain unbelievable.

It was the final revelation, however, that required his faith the most. For Kavala had one piercing statement to offer him, that his whole world spun to even consider: "When I set eyes on you…. I recognized you." The breath in his lungs halted, and his eyes flared as they stared, haunted, into Kavala's. Could it even be true? He wondered, almost too frightened to even consider the possibility. I understand that this was fated to be, thanks to Yahal's guidance, but... was it also fated because I have done this before? Does it feel like I am speaking to an old friend because... I am? A sudden bitter thought crossed his mind, wondering if Kavala was just a charlatan and this deal of "knowing" him was another means of duping him. But no - he had too high an opinion of her to believe that such a thing was true. She must be right, for if she is wrong, then everything in the world must then be wrong as well. At the same time, believing what she had to say was difficult, for that meant he had to accept the idea that he was... that he already had been...

That he had once been Cytali.

In the silence that followed after Kavala had finished speaking, the Benshira gratefully accepted what pieces of orange she offered him, chewing down on them quickly and thoughtfully. Then, obeying a bizarre fancy that had overtaken him, Hirem closed his eyes and centered his breath. He tried, for a few moments, to reach out and feel for his Chavi, just to see if it was there, just to brush his fingers across his multitude of past lives and get a glimpse of what they might have been like. Deep breath, and deep breath out... His mind's eye was fixed on a picture of that silver cord, winding itself through the pathways between the mortal and immortal worlds, composed of the thousand different identities that he had taken over the centuries. But no matter how far he reached, or how fervently he believed that he could reach it, Hirem received nothing for his efforts.

Her final words were whispering themselves back to him within his mind. "But if you want it, and if someday you are ready for it, the doors will open here too you. Because you are very welcome, much needed, and someone I suspect we have well loved." Try as he might, he could not deny the powerful effect they leveled upon his soul, what influence they exerted over his mind. Particularly, it was her last sentence that truly drove him mad.

Very welcome.

Much needed.

Well loved.

To be welcome, needed, loved... I have not known the warmth of companionship for a great deal of time. The life of a hermit looked to be my fate, for my path was seemingly destined to be lonesome through the winding desert sands. Indeed, I should have died there, lost among the sands, cursed to remain alone even at the end. And now it seems that Kavala is offering me comrades, allies, friends. No, she is not just offering... it's as if she's saying that it was my birthright. He felt his shoulders begin to quake dangerously, and approached the railing for support. Might I - might I have finally stumbled upon my true calling? Can it even be? Is this what absolution feels like? Unconsciously, the Benshira's chocolate eyes reddened and squinted shut, a few salty tears spilling from him freely and trailing down his dusty cheeks. Can it be that after all of this time, I have finally discovered the purpose that Yahal intended me for? Is it possible that I may I become the champion that Kavala is seeking? Can the Cytali become the - the family that I want?

Have I found my home? At that thought, the last few reserves of Hirem's willpower splintered into pieces, unleashing a torrent of emotions into his body. He collapsed to his knees and wrapped his arms around the supports for the railing, holding on for dear life, tears constantly streaming down his cheeks. He sobbed openly and without shame, fearing not what Kavala might think of this strange blubbering man. But he did not sob out of despair; his eyes were affixed to the heavens and a bright, blissful, joyous look was shining from his face. "Thank you..." he kept murmuring in Shiber, almost to himself. "Thank you..." He sobbed happily and he sobbed thankfully and he sobbed out of relief, letting every single feeling that had been bottled up inside of him for years come spilling out at once. For now he had something to focus them towards... for now, he had a duty to uphold.

When the tears had finally stopped, and the Benshira had recovered control of his body, he pushed himself to his feet and slowly turned to face the Konti. It was only now that he felt self-conscious, reaching up to wipe away the wetness from his cheeks. "Look at this travesty," he whispered to her. "Wasting water... me, of all people." Cracking a brilliant, happy smile, Hirem reached down and cleaned his face using the sleeve of his tunic. Then, looking back to her with a peaceful gaze, he bowed his head. "Thank you, Kavala Denusk, for what you have told me today. Thank you for talk of the Cytali, the Chavi, the Ruv'na... all of it. I am honored by the gift of knowledge that you have given me." He didn't know how else to convey his immense gratitude to the woman, even if it was only for the simple comfort of words. A temptation had arisen to seize her in his arms and embrace the woman with as much strength as he could bear, but he decided that would presume too much and, besides, get his tears all over her dress.

"And let me offer you something, Kavala Denusk, that I've never offered to anyone before." Keeping his head low, Hirem closed his eyes and spread his arms out wide. "My fealty. Until now, I only ever have given it to Yahal, but if what you are saying is right, then serving you is the same as serving him. I wish to join your Cytali... to stand beside my brothers and sisters and know that I once more am doing good in the world. I wish to join your fight against the Ruv'na and pledge myself to their defeat, even if it takes another hundred of my lives to accomplish. I offer myself to you, to Nysel, to the Cytali, to all the gods of Mizahar until I see this battle finished." He spoke as if conducting a ceremony, his every word laced with conviction. "I offer to you my strength until my body perishes, my mind until it falls to discord, and my soul until it is extinguished by Dira's embrace. I offer myself, as I am, to you. Hirem, from the tents of Alachi, of the sons of Rapa, is at your service, as I swear to Yahal himself."

In the vacuum of that promise, he wondered briefly if he had done the right thing. I have never sworn an oath like that before to another living person... I can only hope that it was not made in vain.

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