Closed Something Lost, Something Gained

[Pulren Marsh]

First Day of Spring, 516 AV

The weather was finally agreeable, a blue sky and warm breezes to comfort the populace of Nyka as they found themselves milling about the great Aperture. Citizens could be seen throughout the day giving offerings to the great crack, some praying, some begging. It apparently was an event that happened each New Year, to appease the Heart of the World and to wish for a good year. For all intents and purposes, it was an honored and cherished ceremony. Of course, Pulren had been down there and had seen what lived in the Aperture. He had felt its pulse engraved into his own body, even in his entire reality and sanity. His eyes were on the darkness inside the Aperture as well as its own eyes were on him.

He stood on the Bridge of the Beginning, the first and most revered of the bridges over the Aperture. Although the bridge was only twenty feet wide, every space overlooking the Aperture was filled with people. All of the bridges were that way. with people even standing on the bare lips of the crevices themselves. One man who had been kneeling and praying with his eyes closed fell forward and disappeared into the darkness. There was a brief gasp among the people, but no one was interested in saving him. The Aperture had chosen a sacrifice, it was as easy as that.

Pulren had three Laat in his hand. The sensation that moved through his body was not on of fear, but of knowledge. Sometimes it was worse to know what was under the bed and still have to sleep. At least with fear, there was a possibility that you were just dreaming. One Laat was dropped into the darkness.

"For the Quarter."

Then the second.

"For Nyka."

The third was held and gazed at for some unknown amount of time before it left the Zeltivan's hand and disappeared into the Heart of the World.

"For Uncle."

[Ricky Maze]

Morning seemed slow today now that Ricky had finally managed to depart from the ship that arrived earlier today, the docks had provided a familiar sight he'd once set eyes upon for sure, but for reasons yet known the city didn't feel the same as it had the last time he arrived here. Of course it probably had something to do with the fact he wasn't looking at the city as an obstacle, but instead of refuge from the past he yearned to escape from. The fact he'd reached the Bridge of Beginnings, as he'd heard many of the locals call it, meant he was closer to the Celestial Square than he had been before. How long ago was it since he'd been here? Only a few years or so but that didn't seem to matter, to him it was still a step by step process of learning the place. The lay of the land definitely seemed to be different compared to what he seemed used to, and he certainly felt for sure he'd look out of place until he figured out Nyka's latest trends. The bags he carried felt weighty over his shoulders and back, while the cloak he wore had annoyingly wrapped itself over the shoulder to reveal his the buttoned vest underneath. The air had a familiar nip to it that seemed reminiscent of home, a sense of familiarity found only for a short time while he walked past those gathered here. A glance over to the side discovered one of the people here swayed over the edge, to deep into his prayer to realize he'd toppled over until it'd been too late to save himself. Or did he even wish to?

For what it was worth the part of him that wanted to reach out and stop the descent didn't seem to act out, no instead it felt absent or at least rather dormant, a quiet and resolute manner seemed to take place of it instead. With a pause in his tracks he looked both left and right among the masses, took in the reaction of those who witnessed the man's fall and furrowed his brows afterwards. They hardly even reacted to it, not that they could do much at this point anyways. But they... pretended it was almost normal, or at the very least natural for that to have occurred. It didn't make sense to Ricky at all, but that didn't change the fact he'd come here on a personal quest. He had to settle in and find a way to start over, to rebuild another life from scratch now that his old one was no longer in reach. Thoughts traced back to the ones he left back in Zeltiva, the home he no longer had after the act of betrayal he'd suffered here back. He had to admit the whole black abyss below proved a sight to behold, its immensity already set his nerves on edge with the urge to quicken his pace. He felt a multitude of things the more he dwelt in his thoughts, the bigger thought however was the notion that this gap he stood over would swallow the bridge, and him, down into the deep unknown.

People seemed to continue their prayer and their tributes as all sorts of items were released into the void below, and for just a tick Ricky began to imagine how this must be tied in to the new year. A new year, a bridge named after beginnings, and his arrival here today? It definitely had the makings of a coincidence, irony the more fitting idea now that he'd come to think of it. Surely the Gods themselves must have made this a reality, or at least intended for such things to occur. Whether the events of today were predetermined or not, his path was set before him the moment he left Zeltiva, however it also unfortunately seemed to end the moment he would arrive at the hostel he'd stayed at the first visit he paid here. Finally his attention seemed pulled more into the event altogether, whispers of prayers heard all around for a blessed year, as he felt even smaller than he did before he first reached this place. For someone Ricky's size the feeling of being small almost never came, and if it actually did then it was always unwelcome to be sure. He missed Telion, his two boys, his house; he just missed home completely now. Although there seemed nothing he could to do change it, deep down he found himself secretly praying too now that he'd stopped on this bridge. He wanted to have a better year for sure given the fact the previous one ended on a pretty bad note, dig deeper down though he longed for his family to be with him once more of course. One of his hands rose to rest over his sternum, a reminder of what happened remained hidden underneath the cloth of his vest as he silently watched the carnations descend into the pitch black below.

[Pulren Marsh]

As the third Laat fell into the maw and disappeared, Pulren raised his head from the view of the Aperture to instead scan the faces of the crowds on the bridges. The monks, however thuggish and corrupt, all now shared something with him. They all shared the long stare of those who had entered the Heart of the World and ascended reborn. They were Pulren's brothers, in a grim way, risen from the pulsing darkness. It buzzed in the pulse of the veins in his eye even as he looked over them. Some caught his glance and returned it, knowing.

Once this communion had been shared, he touched the cool stone of the railing before him. He felt like he might also take a walk down to the port and the ocean there to honor his Father, Laviku. He had been kept away by the threat of ravenous, living darkness and the chilling ice but now the changing of the seasons brought warmer days and nights. He was overdue for a long swim through the Bay of Nyka and the challenges that would come with that. He stuck out a little, not having had much time to purchase new clothes for the Spring, he was a vision of darkness himself, his long black rabbit ined cloak over a black linen shirt and black leather pants. With the new season he would have to outfit himself in more festive and cooler outfits soon.

As he began to turn and head back toward the sea and his home, Pulren stopped in his tracks. With the past season's events, he wouldn't be surprised if his mind was playing tricks on him, but his eyes were usually right. If there were no shenanigans afoot, the figure of Rick Maze stood on the bridge with him. How could that be? It made little sense and it really took him out of himself for a moment, a queasy feeling moving through his body as his realities began to churn. Trying to shake it off, he reached out and made a desperate attempt to regain his sanity. His hand clamped down on the shoulder of the man turned toward the Aperture.

"Rick..Maze? Is that you?"

[Ricky Maze]

In that moment of wonder his mind became lost deep within the black gap below, a sublime lapse in time seem to follow as his thoughts immediately seemed to trace back to the very thing he'd sought to escape from. Memories. Memories that haunted his dreams, that plagued his mind when they could find the chance. Chances like this one now that his attention seemed occupied by the unusual drift he felt below his feet, and deep down he felt the hole in his spirit match the immensity of the one underneath the bridge. He could see it all clearly now as he stood there and watched, the memory he dreaded to relive taken in the form he wanted to avoid. It grew cold all around him as shivers were abound, his hand clenched tightly onto the fabric of the vest as he looked forward before him. Cold moist stones were everywhere now as he could hear the sound of running water, his body and spirit soaked to the core as he stood over a figure. A body writhed slowly in agony, as if he struggled to breathe for whatever reason.

Wait that's right; he did struggle because of Ricky, because of what the Zeltivan did to him. He wanted to run away from this moment but his legs couldn't move, and just when he felt like he'd sunken back into the nightmare once again, a hand had gently clasped his shoulder as the call of his name brought him back to the present. His body stiffened as the blink of an eye changed the scenery once more, the gaping maw below somehow alive in a paranormal sense now that he'd experienced that little episode. The voice was familiar to be sure and it had been one he'd not heard in a while, yet the feeling of dread still remained as the very name was one he'd attempted to abandon upon his arrival. Ricky Maze. No that name, that man, had died back in the waterways underneath Zeltiva, so whoever this was had to be expecting somebody else to be sure. Still he had to react even in this overwhelming circumstance, as he only need reminder that not everyone knew what conflict he'd been thrown in before arriving. A slow turn to face the character soon revealed just who the sudden company was, and when his eyes came to meet the facial distinctions the man had, Ricky's eyes grew wide in greater shock and surprise. "P... Pulren?" 'Oh shyke' is the first thing that came to mind, but in truth no words could better define such thoughts to begin with.

Oh yes indeed Pulren Marsh stood right before him garbed in his own darker shades, the outfit a resemblance to the season that just passed not so long ago. Yet the boy Ricky knew Pulren to be no longer seemed existent anymore, what now stood before him had to be a full grown version of the lad. A man to be sure but one who'd seen more than his fair share of things, one who'd more than likely completely changed to a stranger when Ricky would think back to the older days. Words were something that seemed to be completely dead, as the father could only mutter sounds to resemble his shock when he tried to at last speak. For a chime there was nothing coherent or at least matching to the common tongue, but finally after the line of thoughts became prioritized and sentences could take place, he at last managed to come out and say something that seemed feasible to the moment. "What 're ya doin' 'ere mate?"

[Pulren Marsh]

And there they were. Two friends and former Wave Guardsmen in the city of the Aperture. Pulren was glad to see him, removing his hand from the man's shoulder. They both had a quality of people just waking from a dream, unsure if their current reality was actually real. Clapping the older man on the arm, he shook his head and laughed. "I live here. Moved here last season in fact. I wanted to see the world that I had read and studied about."

What was surprising to Pulren was that Rick was anywhere but Zeltiva. He had a petching mansion there! Why would he ever leave the city that he represented. He lived and breathed Zeltiva, embodying it in the form of a man. He would always owe Rick for a part of his own life. The two of them had been on the Maiden's Voyage, the event that had completely turned Pulren's life around. In fact, as far as Marsh knew, Rick had saved his life that time on East Street, even giving a piece of his finger to the struggle. He would always be a friend and welcome to Pulren.

"What about you? I remember you went to Syliras to have your disease cured, but I honestly can't imagine you would ever leave Zeltiva. Where is Telion and Martin? Your family has been your foundation for as long as I can remember?" Stepping out from the crowd, he extended his hand to the Eastern Quarter. " I just bought a house here. We can talk there." He was still thrown off by the meeting. He was also aware of what was below the stone of the bridge, what was everywhere that Nyka was. It was as good a time as any to go inside.

[Ricky Maze]

The initial shock seemed to slightly subside when the younger guard answered the question, a sensation of awe somehow buzzed within the father as he thought about what Pulren learned to come here, of all the other places within the world actually. Sunberth was a name that rather self explained itself given the ways of its inhabitants, only the lowlifes of the world seemed to wind up in mass there. Though what did that say of Pulren? Or even Ricky in fact? Considering he himself hid away within the foul city for the winter. So much time had passed so quickly, and even so the events that cut off the fisherman from his home felt so young, so recent as if it'd just happened only yesterday actually. Then the turn for Pulren to ask questions came up, however it'd been a bit of a sudden prompt to the former Sergeant, and the answers that should've been within grasp slipped through his fingers just as sudden as his world before arriving here. Telion and Martin. Last Pulren saw them was at Ricky's own house after the young lad returned from Sunberth, although the fisherman probably shouldn't consider calling him young anymore now should he?

"Telion..." Wow did that name hurt when his throat felt it reverb the sound, a heavy emotional pain stuck out of his core from what could've only been left of his heart. Telion, Martin, and Godrick as well; he would have to wager Pulren didn't even know about the second child the family had. How could have anybody else known really? So much had happened in a short time, that all of it seemed to happen at once by now. Finally after he cleared his throat with a fragmented grimace, the fisherman could once again resume answering the question. "Telion an' de boys 're back in Zeltiva, Oi can't honestly say how well they're doin' either." For a moment his eyes diverted away from his companion, by now he could imagine the signs were clear enough for Pulren to at least piece together. No doubt an explanation had to be necessary and honestly Ricky did feel inclined to give one, Pulren did after all deserve that after everything the two had been through together. "It's a bit o' a long story actually, but Oi haven't seen me family since Fall last year, an' Oi'm usin' de name Ricktar Barnello now." Two seasons ago. Yep it had been that long, which meant it practically did happen recently, if one were to think about it that way.

"It'd pro'lly be a good idea t' talk back at yer place, all d'is gear on me back is killin' me." He tried to humor given the gravity of his mood, he wasn't sure if the attempt seemed as sound as he normally could make it. "Why don't ya lead us t'ere, an' Oi'll muster up de mental power t' answer all yer questions when we arrive." He bargained with something shy of a familiar grin, he could at least reason with that for now.

[Imass]

Garonn overlooked the Aperture on the Bridge. Imass' conscience was in slumber. His thoughts were so far-gone and focused, he lost all awareness of the symbols around him, least of all the name of the bridge he stood on; even the people among him vanished from his awareness. The dark Brother stared into the gully below. It was always good to take a break from Imass' hyper-vigilant and ultra-pious mind. It was good for Garonn's sanity to have reigns over the body every once in awhile.

He spoke to himself out-loud, for the sensation of reverberating vocal cords was a good feeling, "From the bright sunny waters of the waterfall, to the fortress I was sent. The days of my boyhood I can scarcely remember," The Brother did not care who was listening. "Thy memory is fond and sweet: oh, Riverfall,"

Garonn bowed his head over the edge of the railing he leaned on. He spat and watched his saliva float down into oblivion. The Brother did not know what action take, so he kept on thinking.

"I still see Naeya's face... Our tender years were good ones..." Garonn rubbed his eyes, as he imagined the Konti in his life, "I still see my Mother... It grieved me dearly when I departed..."

Garonn imagined the Kabrin flowing under his feet, the journey swift in his mind. In the Fortress city he remembered his body undergoing physical trials. They were hard, but that made him tough. Even with the discipline something was missing.

The Brother remembered a conscience moment, "I shook my kind hearted Patrons hand before departing to Sahova, he told me words I'd never forget: 'As you go forth be brave and bold, but show mercy to those who deserve it. My heart is with you Imass until you return again.' Alas my brother didn't bother to take those words seriously... what a waste,"

Fumbling in his side pouch, the Akalak removed a hand full of coins and tossed them into the Aperture, as the rest of the crowd seemed to be doing. Garonn watched as the coins tumbled out of view. Taking a deep breath, he uttered his offering without really focusing on what he was saying, "All I have is my principles to show me the way and the vows my Brother took that are also my own... I shall shoulder my shield and brandish my sword for the Defense of Sylir's land and the Word of Yahal. Thank you Nyka. You've won my respect, regardless,"

Turning away from the Bridge, the Akalak walked towards the Eastern quarter, towards Pulren Marsh's residence. Garonn wished to speak words one last time before he departed back to Syliras; as they were both warriors whom fought battles, their deaths might be sudden and unknown to each other. Despite being a failure in the Sahova Campaign, Pulren bet his Life on the Akalak's martial capability and pulled him out of the gutter. For this blessing, Garonn had much to thank him for.

Making his way to the residence, the Brother continued to let his mind wander. Many of the thoughts he was rambling were now forgotten: His memories melded into one, than back again into many. Still, others were shoved deep away to deal with another time.

Soon he would arrive at Pulren's door. "He should be there, I didn't hear about him working today," Garonn said to himself. Taking deep breaths, he brought his thoughts to the present. Approaching the door, the Dark Brother knocked softly and calmly.

[Khemkhaengawut]

Khemkhaengawut was not a superstitious man. In fact, he didn’t believe anything his eyes didn’t witness first-hand, expression somewhat ironic due to his physical maim. His people were melancholic people who never quite recovered from their past, looking back and trying to bring that past back to life instead of looking into the present and future. They told tales of old, treating such stories with such dedication it often made him wonder if they too were addicted to a morose existence. Sometimes, he too was invaded with those thoughts of misery and sadness, as after all he had spent his childhood between his people. The day of his searching was the day that he left them behind, bitter at their contempt towards him. He wasn’t a very useful child back then, and sometimes he wished that they had been more patient with him. What he found outside from his tribe was the pain of the real world, and that had opened his eyes. Even if he lacked an arm these days, he knew what was right and what was wrong, and thus was a superior man with a quest to spread his knowledge to the rest of the weaklings of this torn world.

What he was doing right now was also right, as he was the most righteous man to ever be born. Having found a rather isolated place in the Aperture, a place away from the bridges and the masses of people that visited this great cliff, he was now squatting with his bare rear hanging from the precipice. As he lifted weight regularly, his form was acceptable and his balance was also quite controlled. Pressing with all his glorious strength, eventually the shyke escaped his body as it fell down the darkness of the aperture, losing itself down below as it was the best offering the obnoxious Chaktawe had to give this city. Unaware of the traditions, this rather disgusting act was not meant as an insult. The hostel in which he lived had bathrooms too narrow for his wide shoulders to enter, and if he was going to release the Zith that hid in his bowels in a hole he might as well use a hole appropriate for a man of his size. All this hard bread had caused great struggles for his stomach, whom protested and instead punished him with a shyke that was simply a nightmare to release. For a moment, he thought he was going to start sweating, yet eventually he felt that was the best he could do for now.

Standing back up, he’d bend over to reach for the small cloth he had prepared for his hygiene, yet be it superstition or not, just as he was to reach it a light breeze came by to scoop it off the rock and send it down into the aperture. “No..!” He’d whine, grunting afterwards before he reached for his kilt and brought it back up to his waist. Unfortunate or not, he had no more business to deal with here. Reinserting himself back into the streets, a full season haven’t taught him a thing about this city. He knew how to orient himself and how to reach the main points of interest for him, yet most times he was just walking without a set destination. The quarters were divided by the bridges, and a different gang ruled each of them with different attitudes. Flexing once in a while during his walk, his eyes eventually laid on perhaps the only blue being that existed in this city. Immediately he recognized that shameful frame, obviously belonging to Nomass. Grinning, he’d begin trailing the man as he began thinking of all the ways he wanted to mess with the Akalak. Their relationship was strange, but still being the only relationship the armorsmith had in this city. He kept following him from afar until the Akalak stopped before a door. It was then when he approached.

“Visiting somebody?” He’d say as he harshly slapped Imass’ back, delivering his characteristic and boasting ‘HA’ afterwards. “Certainly, it will not be a woman. You and your physique are quite clear about that.” The Chaktawe was unimpressed with Imass’ knocking, branding it as weak and thus helping the Akalak once again – his remaining knuckles coming in harshly against the door as if they intended to bring the door down. “Hello!? Let us in!” He’d yell, the details revealing that he had no intentions of leaving Imass alone even if it meant entering this home along him.

[Balderdash]

Perhaps it was the solemn, reverent atmosphere that the throngs of men and women praying for safety and good fortune created, or perhaps the Heart of the World truly did appreciate tithes and sacrifice, but the gentlemen who tithed coin felt an almost approving warmth in the electric tingle that always permeated Nyka's air. The turd dropper, on the other hand, sensed the closest thing to an eyeless, faceless glare. Mercifully, the ground didn't give way beneath him or anything of the sort, and he was quite easily able to follow Imass to Pulren's home. It wasn't even two ticks after he made his snide remark about the Akalak's physique that he felt something warm and wet splash onto his head with an inglorious splat and start running down his face and trickling behind his ears. That something was a rather sizable pigeon dropping. The offending bird cooed almost tauntingly as it flapped loudly away from the scene of the crime. Somehow, the incident felt deliberate.

[Pulren Marsh]

In all the time that Pulren had known Rick Maze, he never recalled him going as gray as he had when he spoke of his wife or son. There was such a stifling feeling in the air at the mention of it that Marsh took the hint. He dropped it until Rick felt like talking about it. Petch it if he didn't. Pulren was no family man and he suspected that pain aside, Rick could be a more useful and capable ally without the baggage. It seemed he was happy enough to move on to the house, so the pair moved on through the Eastern District. As they passed by the Ocean's Forge, Pulren remembered to point it out to Rick.

"I don't know if you know Alija. She had a forge in Zeltiva? Same name even , I think. Anyway, she set up shop here and is living here if you want to stop in and say hi." The walk was mostly uneventful when he thought of something extremely important. "Oh, something else." He slowed his gait until he was closer to the man. "Keep your sword sheathed and hidden. One of the quarters is run by Uphis, Demigod of Blades. They don't allow anyone but his monks to wield blades longer than a cooking knife. Don't want your weapon confiscated. You can stow it at the house for now." There would be lots of rules to learn about but at least his friend could learn from the relative comfort of a house and not that shyke hostel. "I'll have to make some room for you, but we'll definitely get you out of that hostel. That place sucks, big time."

As they rounded the hill that Pulren's house sat on, he stopped as he could clearly see and hear people banging on his door. One was Imass, his blue skin clear enough even in the shadows of the deck. The other was a one armed man wielding some kind of large weapon. Was he banging on the door with it? "Hey!", he shouted up at the pair. "What the petch you hammering my door with?" Looking over to Rick as they began moving with intent, he said, "Do you know Ser Imass of Syliras? Big blue guy there? Who is that with him?" Not like Rick would know, but one could never tell. Puilren knew he didn't appreciate the guy hammering it.