Sashisaxani

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Sashisaxani

Postby Sashisaxani on May 8th, 2012, 10:50 pm

OOC: The CS is really data heavy right now. I haven't had the chance to make it pretty. :P Human form cast: Patricia Velásquez; snake form cast: the anaconda; Dhani: WIP.

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Sashisaxani

Physical Description
Name: Sashisaxani
Race: Constrictor Dhani
Age: 140
Birthday: 53 Summer 373

Saxani is a strong Dhani for her people. She does what she can to appear formidable in any form. She has a tall, stout build which put her on the heavier side of the spectrum. She takes pride in this, using it as a sign of her health and ability in the hunt. Her hair and eyes are dark, traits reflected in all of her forms. Saxani’s facial expressions are usually cool and collected, although there are natural tones of miserable hunger, annoyance, and sadism that leave traces on her face. She doesn’t appear very approachable. She sounds better than she looks. Her words are spoken with a raspy, steely tone in addition to the characteristic sibilant speech.

Character Concept
Saxani was raised under the pride of the constrictor Dhani in Zinrah. She learned their values and ways, and was taught to perfect them without hesitation. Though it could be called brainwashing, Saxani fell in love with the goddess Siku no less, and devoted her life to that sole cause. Everything she is, and everything she did, all she'd become, would be in Her name. The extremeness of her person, and lack of resistance in fulfilling such, suggest there might be more than being brought up this way. Saxani was born a child of Siku in the purest of forms, and the Myrians will know the danger of it.
  • Personality:
    Saxani used to be like the rest: young, wild, and vicious. Her addition to sadism drove her through her younger years, the intoxication of power with her coils crushing the life from her prey was her high, and rest her withdrawal. An accident in her life changed that. No more is she so relentless in her methods. She is now cold and calculating, acting with the cunning of the fragile vipers. She is conservative with her thoughts, finding value in holding her tongue unless the moment presses her otherwise. Although she is tempted by the power of her body, Saxani has learned and adapted that precision in her actions serves the best effect. Zinrah has no political space for folly.
  • Likes:
    Much to her pleasure, Saxani enjoys the hunt, perhaps even more than the kill. It is a test of her endurance and strategy more than anything. Once the prey slips into its trap, that perfect nest of muscle perfect to the fit, the game is over. She enjoys physical pleasure as well, food and sensuality alike. Her voracity is a welcome substitute for an addition.
  • Dislikes:
    Need it be said? Saxani hates the Myrians in their every way. Their Goddess-Queen is seen as the harbinger of Zinrah’s destruction, and Saxani only wonders when they must stop counting the days that Siku and Myri’s pact will evaporate. Saxani welcomes the day, to taste the blood of Myrians of different kinds, young and old, boy or girl, strong and weak. Saxani’s uncouth humour leaves her mocking the Myrians by means of mimicry at times.

    Weakness among her peers also discourages her. One day she hopes to be an elder priestess of Siku’s, and the thought of weak youth defending her is concerning. Weakness takes many forms. It is physical as much as it is mental. She seeks to fix the later, and eliminate the initial when the moment presents itself. It is for the greater good of all Dhani.
  • Religion:
    Saxani seeks to worship Siku where the Goddess’s priestesses cannot, on the fields of battle. While females are held dear for their fertility, Saxani no longer has such a thing to lose. In a way it is a gift to her. Saxani practices what her sisters preach, and it is euphoric.
  • Morals:
    None. There is a goal, there is a mission, there is a purpose, and it will be fulfilled. Nothing will stand in her way.


Character History
After Valterrian:
373 - Sashisaxani is born of Tsalisashi.

405 – Sashisaxani masters her Dhani form.

427 - Summer, 23 - Bones and Saxani fight for their deities of worship.

480 – Sashisaxani masters her human form.

482 - Events of Enter Venenem
  • Sashisaxani is rendered infertile from an injury.
  • Sashisaxani earns Siku’s recognition and first Venenum mark.
  • Saxani takes up the short bow.
512 - Spring
  • "Outbreak" 1 - Sashisaxani salvages what she can from the decimated Myrian blockade around Zinrah with Salar.
  • "Girl's Got a Grip" 40 - Saxani wrestles with the boys, reinforcing her status.
512 - Summer
  • "Trouble in Pelham's Cave" 5 - Saxani and Pelham romance about their people, friendship, and weaponry. Just girl things!
  • "For Her Glory" 20 - Intro to a sacrifice in Zinrah, discontinued.
512 - Fall
  • "Thrill of the Hunt" 8 - Saxani encounters and ambushes packs of boars and Myrians while on duty.
  • "I Love the Way You Scream" 14 - Saxani's patrol takes her north, where she encounters some intruders and releases some frustration.
Winter 512 to Summer 513 - Saxani followed her routine, doing nothing out of the ordinary, but enough to keep her worth in the nest. She felt the need to lay low after butchering the human travelers.
513 - Fall
  • "Siku's Solstice" 50 - Zinrah's nest gathers for the sacrifice in Siku's name! Many Dhani and followers of Siku are in attendance, Saxani among them, current.
  • "Nothing But Crows" 58 - "I want to play a game..." Mamoru and Saxani participate in guard duty preparations, current.
  • "Red Viper, Black Constrictor" 62 - Aka and Saxani are on patrol in the Wilds, current.

Possessions
ties and ornaments
1 black leather harness
1 Waterskin
1 Backpack which contains:
-Comb (Bone)
-Brush (Bone)
-Soap
-Razor
-Balanced Rations (1 Week’s Worth)
-1 eating knife
-Flint & Steel
-100 short bow arrows (SP purchase)
-1 quiver (SP purchase)
- 1 short bow (SP purchase)
- 1 knife (skinning) (SP purchase)
Heirloom: Necklace of Myrian Bones from Tsalisashi, designed to add additional bones...

Housing:
Permanent Housing:
20x20 cave in the residential wing of the Zinarah nest.

Ledger
Item Transaction Total
Starting +100 GM 100 GM
arrows -5 GM 95 GM
quiver -20 GM 75 GM
short bow -30 GM 45 GM
knife (skinning) -5 SM 44.50 GM
Summer 512 Expenses (squalor) - 5 GM 39.50 GM
Fall 512 Expenses (squalor) - 5 GM 34.50 GM
Winter 512-Summer 513 (inactive) --- 34.50 GM
Fall 513 Expenses (squalor) - 5 GM 29.50 GM


Skills, Lores, Magics, Gnosis, Languages

Common Skills:
Skill Ttl XP Proficiency
Weapon: Short Bow 30 XP 30SP Competent
Brawling 1 XP +1XP Novice
Dancing 1 XP +1XP Novice
Hunting 10 XP 10SP Novice
Intimidation 2 XP +2XP Novice
Observation 6 XP +2 XP+1Xp+3 Novice
Planning 1 XP +1XP Novice
Rhetoric 2 XP +2XP Novice
Seduction 1 XP +1XP Novice
Socialization 3 XP +3XP Novice
Tactics 2 XP +2XP
Tracking 10 XP 10SP Novice
Unarmed Combat 2 XP +1XP+1XP Novice
Weapon: Kama 1 XP +1XP Novice
Wrestling 14 XP 10RB+4XP Novice


Practiced Languages:

Fluent Language: Snake-tongue
Basic Language: Myrian
Poor Language: Common

Lores:
Lore: Zinrah Cave Network Layout
Lore: Religion: Siku
Lore:Enjoying A Steam Bath With Good Company
Lore: A Myrian Sacrifice Always Brings the Crowds
Lore: Each Queen Has Made Zinrah Great
Lore: Taking Your Rightful Place at an Event
Lore: The Myrian/ Dhani Pact
Lore: How the Dhani Came to Zinrah
Lore: Showing Prowess in the Name of Siku
Lore: Taking Advantage of a Motionless Opponent
Lore: Pelham: A Dhani Diva
Lore: Treasonous Talk of Beauty
Lore: Finding a Good Grip for a Kama
Lore: Kama: A Quick Weapon

Thread List
Thread Date Roll Call Notes
Red Viper, Black Constrictor 62nd Fall 513 A.V. Soshaku.akamamushi WIP
Nothing But Crows 58th Fall 513 A.V. Kalesseri.mamoru WIP
Siku's Solstice 50th Fall 513 AV numerous WIP
I Love the Way You Scream 14th Autumn 512 A.V. --- WIP, GF
Thrill of the Hunt 8th Autumn 512 --- WIP, GF
For Her Glory 20th Summer 512 numerous Graded
Trouble in Pelham's Cave 5th Summer 512 A.V. with Ssera.pelham Graded
[The Training Gallery]Girl's Got a Grip (Open) 40 Spring 512 A.V. --- WIP, GF, wrap it up!
Outbreak (Open) 1 Spring 512 A.V. with Noravenn.salar WIP, GF, in office
[Flashback]Nothing Like a Schoolyard Brawl 23 Summer 427 A.V. with Ssafirsoti.bones Graded


Last edited by Sashisaxani on December 2nd, 2013, 11:29 pm, edited 36 times in total.
Sashisaxani
For Her Glory
 
Posts: 83
Words: 150765
Joined roleplay: May 8th, 2012, 10:19 pm
Race: Dhani
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

Sashisaxani

Postby Sashisaxani on May 30th, 2012, 2:36 am

Gnosis
Gnosis Marks
Veneneum 1

Enter Venenum :
Enter Venenum
TS: 40-3 Summer, 482 A.V.

It was the hot season. I recall the heat vividly. The heat warmed me and made me active. It made me hunger. I was younger then, and careless. I did live though, and through it all became something better. It’s not saying much compared to savages, but my brothers and sisters know well what it means. We are few and proud, perhaps too proud. I was very proud then, and almost regret that pride.

The day, like all of the others, was typical. The light that filled Zinrah was complementary to the heat of the pools. I had been soaking and enjoying myself. I propped myself against the edge of the spring and let myself float. I was resting, eyes shut. I felt him before he reached the pool, and continued to feel him as the ripples of the water lapped against my skin.

”Saxani...” The male Dhani had hissed to me. The way he said my name, it could be no other.

It was Salazar, a suitor.

”What brings one as fine as you to these springs?” His embraced me with his claws, and I felt the prickle of his nails against my sides. He had always been that kind of Dhani.

I began to coil myself around him, and so politely began to correct him, ”It’s Sashisaxani,” as I began to tense around his abdomen. I felt him dig in, but still he tried to play me with his looks and words.

”Forgive me, Sashisaxani. I was hesitant to say so. One so beau-hrr-beautiful as yourself hardly belongs compared to the age of your mother.” Salazar was strong, but wasted his breath on words.

“Are you saying I should not be as beautiful as my mother? I assure you, Salazar,” and I leaned into him close and said,”you’d be lucky to even have her. Heh-heh...” I laughed again and let him loose. “You snake charmer you, you try too much. Come here.” I let go of the rocky earth and let my palms go over his scaly skin, oo. Oh, they just slid right down those full arms, an uhh, the warmth of the bath. I dug into his back, and knew the blood would be running soon. I meant to bite him gently too, but such forms do no permit such pleasures. He groaned.

”I could take you, right here. Why shouldn’t I?

“Do you doubt yourself, Salazar?” My intentions were all but questioning. I had been very, very picky for my own sake over the last years. He did have potential of course.

”Never, my beauty, my queen...” His flattery continued to spout from this sharp tongue.

“Yours?”

”If you wish it, Sashisaxani.”

“I don’t.” I let go and returned to him. His coy look said it all. I had denied him before, but he was lucky. It wasn’t a rejection. I pulled his hands closer and let him enjoy my company a while longer.

...


A rushing from the main chamber alarmed me. I saw another go right past, suitor, and saw nothing of us. His eyes had been on mine for days now, and he did not speak of it? He could have taken Salazar at any time. Another... I heard a scuffle, some humanoid shouting, and a cry - a cry for help! Salazar and I moved at once in alarm. The pact, would they have violated the pact?

I felt my contractions down my body as I rushed through the water to the edge and flowed right into the earth. Salazar was behind me. No wonder I doubted him.

We came to the end of the chamber, and there we saw others rushing toward the western tunnel. They were going out into the ruins. The thought struck me at once, Myrians in the ruins, and I rushed to join them smiling.

Those of us who followed the path toward the shuffling noises were lead quickly through the tunnel to the surface. A mother’s screams of blood murder crossed the ruins at a Myrian party, either hunters or scouts. They would not live regardless. The suspicions were true, the Myrians had been dangerously close, but this was strange. A snakeling had been fighting one of the savages when I first caught sight. His bite missed and a spear fell into him swiftly. Others joined and the young one was carried off, spears and arrows in him. His might-be-mother took off faster than I could imagine for him, and the heads of the Myrians who befell him. She was foolish. There must have been a trap. Something was wrong with this, and I’d not have it. The supervisor in charge had his fill of arrows and was lucky to make it back. We saw the blood of another, or perhaps two, on the blocks, fresh. An ambush and a trap? The rushing mother would find vengeance or death out in the jungle. My heart went out to her. They were too far from my reach to have followed her course of action.

Salazar reached me some time after, and questioned my observations. I stood him up and searched for the other who had left me alone with Salazar. This would not have happened if Salazar was on guard. I bade him, the other, to comfort me, and as twilight reached us and the light of the glowstones took over and faded, he did.

...


Hassar.

He was younger than I, and had a surprising strength in his vigor, despite a seeming difference of only a decade. He had spent the night with my company, and then left for his own duty. His curiosity of the Myrian party exceeded my own. In all their offenses, I felt no personal scars.

My mother, Tsalisashi, and her mother before her, kept themselves to the shrine. I knew little of my siblings, or where they lingered. We had loose bonds, my mother and I. We knew what was expected of each other, and left it to that. I would see her today. Mother’s lessons taught me well through the years, and I one day hope to please her like my own mother.

I entered the shrine, and there she stood in all her divinity. Her rocky coils strangled the cavern in their eternal strength. I slithered to the altar, and saw the priestesses preparing.

Saxani, my daughter.

I bow my head, “Mother. What rite are you preparing now?”

Of the savages who dared the ruins last day, a fool – least more foolish than the others – fell to the grasp of your brother Dhani. We prepare now to offer his blood to Siku, in prayer and answer to the meaning of these atrocities.

“What of the mother, or her son?”

Sashi bowed her head in solace, “My daughter, the youth has been taken from us, all the more reason to demand this savage’s blood. His mother had not returned, Shiatra, and I worry. Her children were nowhere to be found when she chased them into the night, but praise her strength. She will return to us when she comes to reason.

“May I see him? The savage?”

I was waiting for you. Speak to him. He has been quiet... No other could tempt his tongue, but you, my beautiful daughter, I know you will find his weakness. Go to them, the cavern there over. Siku guide you, my child. May you words be venom in his heart.

Mother kissed my forehead and I left the shrine. The scent of blood in the shrine, a swine’s maybe, leaked into the main chamber even as I slipped away. The circles were being drawn, and the baths filled. It was a ritual of prayer, praise and questioning of our Mother’s wisdom and insight.

The Myrian savage was young. I glanced across the way and saw him down in the dark, damp corner bound at all limbs. He’d go nowhere. He would die here. He didn’t realize it though. His eyes were examining the guards, and the caves. As if we didn’t see him, right in front of us. How ignorantly stupid! I could not approach him like this, and we knew it.

My jaw popped back into place and I sprouted legs. My sister Dhani looked to me and smiled in admiration. She had tried him before, and he was only looking. She was not quite as large as I, but was younger as well. I think we knew he would not withstand us much longer. My final insult before he would go to the chamber was prepared. I was secured my necklace, from my mother – Myrian bones, and pulled back my hair like the savage hunters did. A little war paint and I’d fit in among them, if not for my accent.

“How do I look?”

Make him cry with joy, sister. I can hardly resist you myself.

We both laughed lightly. She envied me, and I knew it. She was still growing all the same. I went to make him talk, the savage.

The scales of my skin finally merged totally and left the smooth, opaque skin humans walked in. I held my head high as I walked in. The guards knew I would come, and were dismissed. They’d really go no further than the tunnel that leads out, but it was dark. The glowstones were few here. The savages liked the light. They were afraid of the dark. They were afraid of what was in the dark.

I cleared my throat, and spoke to him in his native savage tongue, an art practiced after years of hearing their pleas from the altar before Siku drank of their blood. It was a crude and glottal language, phonetic sounds that tempted vomit in comparison to the elegancy of snaketongue.

“Sso... What brings you to our nesst?”

I was slow about it, hunting really. The snake in the brush is invisible given the time. I just needed the Myrian to meet me half way.

“What brings you...to Zinrah? Hmm?” I traced my finder over his scrawny shoulder. The nails lightly scraping over his skin, the tender feeling it produces, is always a wonderful touch. The white lines left on his sun darkened skin were a hint of what they could do, and would do. Not my own, of course.

“What iss you names? You can call me Ssahla. You can join me... What iss you name, brother?” I rested my hand on his shoulder.

The savage looked back up to me with his wild eyes. I figured he’d have bitten me if he were not bound as he was. He was warmer than I. Still, I was there, unblinking. It takes more than quick movements to surprise even the snakelings.

Get off of my you filthy snake. You are not my sister.

This was good. He was talking. It would only take time now. He could say his peace before he was offered up to Siku. First, there were things we wanted to know.

I walked back behind him, gently rubbing over his back. For a young savage, his had many scars. I did as he asked, swept my nails from his skin and back to me. The playful scratch of the tiger cubs broke skin and caused man and child to bleed alike. They were only human in the end. I did just the same, and the air would string against the broken skin. He snarled.

“You cannot ssay I do not look like one though.” I gave him my back. “I have sspent the yearss...watching them. They wear their hair like thiss, and have necklacess ssimilar to this.” I jingled the bones in front of him. He would not look up again; he wouldn’t look at me. “They do wear...a bit more than I do.”

Walk back around him, a shark round minnows, and took the wet blood from his back. I applied it like the paint his sisters did, around my eyes and forehead.

“They wear the blood of their enemiess like thiss. It iss for strength, yess? ...yess?” He wouldn’t answer me still.

I kneeled before the savage and gently reached for him. Gentle was the key word, gentle. This was a gentle boy we were dealing with. The blood on my palm, his blood, smeared his hair and cheeked as I rubbed down to his neck. My nailed were fanned out from his skin, but he must have known they were there. I ran my hand down his neck, then back under his chin. He swallowed, and I felt the delicacy of his neck bulge out against my hand. I lifted his face to mine, and still he looked down, or away, or closed his eyes. I spoke sweetly to him, my voice already sounding so fragile...

“Tell me, brother, tell Ssahla all your problems.” I was insistent. He could not resist me. No man, Dhani or savage, would resist me...

He looked up to me with sorrowful eyes and spat in my breasts. He saw the end that awaited him. It was no secret among the savage Myrians what we’d do to them. We knew well enough what they did to us. The young snakeling...unmerciful. Now was not a time for speaking.

I slopped up the spit from my bosom and flung it back on his body. Grabbing his hair, pulling it back, I spit in his eyes, and then slashed his cheek with my nails. He cried out like a babe.

I’d be back before the ceremony. I’d make him squeal. They needed him whole for the sacrifice, not unscathed.

I grabbed his hair again and pulled up with superior strength, lifting him in the bindings from the floor, his knees not touching.

“No not worry, little ssavage, for soon you shall join your bortherss and ssisterss...” I ran my free hand down the bone necklace. He understood me and his eyes flooded with tears. I dropped him back to the hard stone floor and took my leave.

My beads.

“He will not talk.”

My beads, Saxani, in your hair, they are mine.

What beads she meant I didn’t know. Maybe something from before. They were beads, girl, you could get them from the river beds. I walked off, but she grabbed my shoulder and stopped me.

I turned to her and hit her square in the chest. She backed off gasping for air and I shifted as a Dhani, unhesitating to reprimand her mistake. Her stupid beads fell out anyway.

She had regained her breathing before I was upon her. I grappled with her. She was not as strong as I. I bit her and began to coil around, and soon had her chest in my grasp. She cried out and I began crushing her. I wrapped my arms around her neck as she tried to foolishly peel my tail off her. I had a good hold on her, some head lock, before we were both stopped and told to take it to the wrestling pits. I unhanded her. She backed off. I moved forward and hissed, fangs bared like knives. I had more important things to do anyway. Stupid savages, stupid snakelings. Just the stupid ones, the weak ones, they did not deserve life.

...


The altar was under finishing touches, fine details to the seal. I laid myself before Siku’s face that stared onto the altar and chamber alike. The eyes, even in stone, were invoking of malevolence. I came to pray to Siku, to praise her, and thank her for her mercy as Mother, to welcome her to us, and to reward us. I was not the only one, the only Dhani who looked to Siku for guidance through life. I prayed Siku would carve my path through the lowest levels of the swamps and jungle, a path that I might one day realize and deepen with my own actions, and my daughters’ after me.

I’ve always believed Siku was my mother more than Sashi. My mother always looks to me in expectance for me to do as I will, to follow in the ways of all the women. To perhaps one day become Queen of my own nest, to succeed my mother. Only in rare occasion have I ever joined my mother in meetings with the others. I always coiled myself tight to rise tall above others.

Siku is the one who birthed me though, and the rest of us. My mother was merely a vessel for Siku’s will. I worship Siku, not my mother. Mother is kind to us, and protects us in treaty. The Grandmother, Caiyha, is just as honourable to me.

...


Hassar.

He had been released from the patrols. I took him to the springs. I loved this one in particular. My preference was unquestioned, which I loved of Hassar. He was obedient compared to the others, especially Salazar.

I can come tonight. I will see you there.

“I’m glad. I’ll be with my mother, but I will find you after. You shouldn’t try to come any closer than the other women.”

You are all I would need. I can wait.

I was hesitant to ask. I didn’t entirely want to spoil the moment, but I wondered the more. “Did you find Shiatra, the mother? I know her son would not have made it far...”

We have seen nothing yet. There seem to be some stupid savages among their numbers. Their elders are still in the trees, waiting for the moments to strike. They have not moved, and we see them at night. We managed to bring back some boar, when they caught the savage boy. They are blind in the night.

“I am glad, again.” I looked at his eyes, but was taken away. This time Salazar was passing us off, but he stopped and came back. He saw us, Hassar with I, and fumed with anger. I spun Hassar quickly from Salazar’s fang and grabbed Salazar by the throat. He was wild, and did not wish to hurt me. I would not be insulted like this, not at all. I brought him up from the water with relative ease and crashed his body into the opposite wall. Hassar grabbed Salazar’s arm before I could do anything. His claw was ready to rake my face.

I offer you everything and this is how you repay me.

“Then they are mine to keep and I owe you nothing. I never said I wanted such things.”

And for this boy! I should –

Hassar grabbed Salazar’s face shut.

I will show you a boy. Come, I will wrestle you, and you will be made a milkdrinker. We will feed you mice after.

Your rhetoric is laughable, boy, but I accept. I will teach you well too, Saxani.

Hassar and I had released him, but Salazar tempted me again. I slashed his face as he had intended. “Sashisaxani to you!” He would not disrespect my name. Hassar need not intervene this time. Salazar came for me but I brought him back around again. Again the wall, my body around his chest, he stopped before I had reason to break his chest.

We wrestle then?” Salazar was already panting from a quarrel with me. I knew he stood no chance against Hassar. I looked to Hassar and he reassured me.

Hassar would fight for my honor, to ensure Salazar understood he would not own me, ever. The hour was still high, but sinking quickly into the west. I had a meeting to attend soon after this. I wanted to see it though.

In the training gallery, brother and sister alike were at work. To see us enter must have been an oddity because elders were even drawn to the movement. Salazar was never known as a fighter, and Hassar was a prime hunter. To see me there was confirmation their conflict was about me.

I kissed Hassar on his crown, and his lips, and chest... Salazar was seething with rage once more. They entered a ring, marked off by the rocks, and stood apart. They looked to me, Hassar smirking, Salazar’s face painted with misery.

“Begin.”

They turned back to each other. Each one locked his eyes on the other’s. They kept their tails tight together, preparing to lunge out for the other man. I looked at Hassar with the utmost approval. He was molded for this. Salazar would be crushed in Hassar’s grasp, and I would laugh. They grappled, each clenching the other around the neck, arm, or shoulder. I almost leaped forward from the first impact of their colossal bodies. The elders tried to pull back the attention of the snakelings from the battle between the relatively monolithic forms. Some girls left the chamber, not amused by my attention.

Salazar was desperate. His movements were aimed at positioning Hassar for that perfect bite. He was ignorant of the art. He didn’t see how Hassar was wearing him down. I think Salazar’s shoulder was still sore, from when I bit him. Salazar slipped past, failing his bite, and Hassar grabbed hold of his neck and began to coil. I smiled as Hassar looked up to me, still grinning the whole while.

Salaza was held helpless in Hassar’s grasp. Hassar paused though. He was looking at me. I bowed my head and felt my fangs in my lips. My smile was so tightly wound with joy from the pain Hassar could inflict. Hassar’s grin grew out to a smile as well, and he wrapped Salazar’s head.

Enough.” The word was sounded and Hassar released Salazar immediately, and with apparent reluctance. He was giving me an abysmal look, and I aimlessly wondered why before it struck me. She struck me, mother, across the cheek. “The savage Myrians surround our tunnel with bows, spear, swords and more; a mother and her child are missing in the jungle; a sacrifice in Siku’s name is in preparation, and you are here wasting the strength of men for your own sake? How selfish of you. You, boys – yes, boys, you fight like boys, little savage boys playing with each others’ hands – you should be hunting. We need –

I would not tolerate the remarks of my mother, against I or my Hassar. I lunged at her. I was succeeding her now if it would be enough to silence her. She rotated right around her waist, and rung my throat with her hands. I felt numbness, and pain. I couldn’t breathe. I needed, I needed to get out. I reached for her throat, to stop her, but couldn’t find her. Tsalisashi wrapped herself around me in a fantastic form and speed I never knew her capable of. My arms and body were in her coils, and her hands were free around my neck and face. I felt her palms against my cheeks, her nails in my scalp.

“Mother, I am so sorry. I meant no offense to you.”

You offend more than I in this manner. You offend these men, and even great Siku in this selfishness. Was it not you who told me how much you felt for Shiatra the night she went out from the nest? Have you lied to me?” She was twisting my limbs, and now pressed on my skull. I felt the blood in my eyes. I saw the one from last night, the one who fought with me for her stupid beads. That wicked little...

“Yes, mother, yes it was me. I am so sorry. Please, please stop.”

I will stop, but you will learn. After tonight’s ritual, you will earn forgivingness...

She released me and I fell to the hard ground. She turned to Hassar and Salazar. The trainings had been interrupted, but only a moment.

Let this serve as a lesson to you all... Children of Siku, we are children together. What you learn and do here is not for yourself, but for us all. To quarrel like starving wild beasts, as these two do now, lusty for my daughter’s love, is a disgrace. Go, now, and make yourselves useful.” I saw her turn abruptly to Hassar and Salazar and say, “Pray Siku hears our prayers over this barbaric brawling of yours. Go pray she does so, on your own time. You will patrol the tunnels. I’m sure neither of your mothers will regret my word after hearing about this. It is both distasteful and dishonoring... Neither of you are worthy of my daughter if this is how you seek to woo her. It seems none of you are worthy of her...” With her final aside, my mother and Queen left the training gallery. Hassar helped me up before running off to the patrols. Salazar didn’t even look at me.

...


I was sent to bring the Myrian – as I was so formally corrected after the scene – to the shrine. Everything was in place, and the whole of Zinrah was in waiting. I was joined by those sisters of the Queens and priestesses who were not already touched by the Mother, our goddess, Siku. We had our own paints, ready to mark the Myrian. Myrian, savage, I suppose the terms were interchangeable.

He was quivering when we came in, the chanting from the shrine echoing throughout all Zinrah, a faint sound that escaped the tunnels into the night. We went to work at once. The eldest daughter, versed in the patterns that would mark his body, began to mark him in the thick, black sap that dripped and slipped down from the Myrian’s forehead onto his nose and the floor. He started to cry as the substance fell from his burning body like the drop of blood. Soon, he would be bleeding from all ends.

I had a red variation to trace and fill on his body as well. My sisters and I rolled over one another in preparation of the vessel’s body. I was by his side, at work. I dug my nails in with each stroke, and his blood leaked with the red paint. No one could tell, not even with his cries. Even I would just figure him scared.

I took the moment time I spent near his ear with great patience and care. There was a message to be delivered.

I whispered into his ear with crude Myrian words, “You will join your brotherss and ssisterss soon enough...”

He was bargaining for his life, naively, “Please! Please! Anything, I’ll do anything, just let me go! Help! Myri, save me! Help! Please, please, please... I don’t want to die like this. Please!

“Shh, shh...Hussh little baby... Tell me why you are here, and all will be forgiven...”

I leaned in a little close to work on the details, and he whispered to me, “W-we were just outside the ruins. W-we wanted t-to pick off the little ones. That’s all, just the little ones. We’re beyond the trees, camped off the g-ground. We were just scouting the t-tunnels. Please, we didn’t k-know the big one would come after u-us. Please let me go...

I pulled his face back to see mine and gave him a reassuring nod. I forgave him.

My sisters and I were ready soon after. The Myrian was lifted on the structure of wood and rope, tightly bound at the extremities. He was unclothed to further his pain, and to purify the worth he had to Siku. Nothing would keep Mother from her prey.

Let me go! Let me go! She said you’d let me go!” the Myrian carried on. He was wild about it, and then asked me why they had not let him go. The girls all smirked and laughed at once.

“I said I’d forgive you, and I did.
” I turned my head back forward, chin tall on my neck and rejoined the procession. His screams were a descant harmonizing with the chants of Zinrah. We joined in and entered the Shrine of Siku.

***



We lead the procession in. Our offering to Siku was wild on his post, savage, myrian-like in his behaviour. I shouldn’t expect others to be more than what they are. I was saddened to remember Hassar would not be joining, but rather would be patrolling the tunnels. I would find him after. The rest of Zinrah joined at the shoulders, arms overlapping, and rocked back and forth with the worlds and cries of Head Priestess Hiarisspanyin. Every one available was in attendance. Every snakeling, every Queen and her daughter, the Queen of us all, Snhamtanabis, and Siku, Mother of us all, were here in spirit or form. The mass of Dhani were a circular wave moving in and out, rocking on their sides together at once. The chanting moved the snakeling heads to dance and they waved in unison to the beat as if a breeze over the sea of grass. The way was cleared down the center, and we brought the Myrian forth.

The circle around the altar was paved in blood. Crimson strokes solid as the earth clearly marked out the prayer seal, perhaps a glyphing construct. We had used the same paints in marking the Myrian, I knew. It gleamed the same way under the light of the glowstones that were present. It was darker now, and most of us had surely reverted to our higher senses of heat sensing. The Myrian was still calling like a man creature in the night. ‘Myri, oh Myri, Goddess-Queen of the weak, help this poor and troubled boy!’ The strength the Myrians had was made up of their numbers and tigers, little more. This single Myrian might have fallen to a snakeling when he was first brought to Zinrah’s inner sanctum.

The shriek of the Head Priestess silenced the crowd, but the rest were silent. I stood as stone, awaiting her next commands. The more experienced ones continued to hum quietly under her, a menacing drone of voices that filled the chamber in mass vibration. The nest still moved as one.

Children of Siku! Let her hear you this night!” She raised her arms together and the Dhani roared as a whole, a sound that could not penetrate the tunnels into the outside world. She had looked to the Queen before continuing. Tonight was one of worth, the signs must have been in alignment, and the blood was hot. The Head Priestess continued, leading us with words of divine wisdom perhaps spoken by Siku herself. She recited to us the story of Dhani birth, and how from Siku’s womb we were brought into this world; then the story of separation of the sub-races (how we were the best at that), followed by stories of the Myrian purges. Alas, Siku and Caiyha were our saviors, and here we are to honor them. She began to address the Myrian plague on Falyndar, making excellent use of the sacrifice as example. His fluids and waste were all over the altar.

Join each other now, Dhani to Dhani, my children under Siku and Caiyha alike. Tonight our prayers reach out to Siku in their purest form through the mortal essence we offer up to her now. Be honored, strange Myrian, for this role as our vessel. Be silent now, and let us speak into you.” After some struggle, his tongue was removed, and only his wild shouting roared. The vague calls to his Goddess-Queen were heard coming from him. The Head Priestess gave the signal.

We started again, I and all others as one in one great circular motion, this perfect form of energy that swirled with all our desires and song of voices. The priestesses seized the Myrian with their superior strength by his limbs and head. He was lifted up from the altar, no movement his own, and released from his bonds. Again, his screams rode along our chanting song, a craft over the gentle waves. He was brought into the swirl of this particular ritual, the priestesses tugging at him from each limb with their own fanatic motions.

The chanting reached its pinnacle. The energy of the chamber moved us all together, a whirlpool of spirits as one sending their prayer to Siku through this man. The Head Priestess shouted, “Now, Great Siku, hear our prayers,” and the swirling mass of Dhani ripped the screaming Myrian apart at all limbs. The dismembered Myrian fell back on the altar, now gasping for the remaining breaths of air he could draw in. Hiarisspanyin drove a boney knife through his chest and so went his spirit.

The chamber was quiet and still spinning together. Slowly, we can to a stop, and bowed our heads. The Head Priestess closed the ritual as the myrian’s blood ran over the carved altar, completing the seal. Final prayers were said, and it was brought to a close. The priestesses would begin their private ceremony of cleaning the altar and disposing of the vessel properly.

My mother was among those in charge, but I was told to wait for her. I had no choice but to follow the orders of my Queen.

...


We went to her private chamber to speak. I was so jovial of it all; I knew my prayer would be answered. It had been the same one I have sent to her each time. My life was in Siku’s hands to use. Even now, my mother seemed overcome with emotion of the ritual’s success.

Saxani...

I moved to her, eager to hear her words as every little girl should be. Mother, yes, but priestess as well. She had great words that would weigh down upon me for a lifetime.

I couldn’t help but recall how he screamed of your contract with him. I figured you’d do better.

“He was patient, mother-priestess. Even then, he had little to say.”

What did he say?

“The Myrian said that they were just through the jungle outside the ruins. He said he was scouting the tunnels, to kill snakelings.”

Myrians in our tunnels. They were never at our tunnels when the snakeling was killed, or when Shiatra chased her after her child’s corpse? I had not figured you a fool and a vamp.” Her words were stunning. Had I really been hoodwinked? “I’ve been pondering what you will do to make-up for your behavior. I’ve come to a decision.

I was discouraged more than I was angered in all of this. After all I had done and she had the nerve…

You, and two of your brothers, will venture into the night. Find this scouting party that has seen Zinrah for what it’s worth, and kill them. Bring back their heads. We will mark the Myrians’ boundaries more literally to remind them of the treaty. Also, seek out Shiatra. She is dear to me, my sister, I remind you, younger and rash. Tsalishiatra, Siku be with you... Your children are safe here, I promise. I have spoken. They are waiting for you, Sashisaxani. And note me, because you flaunt your sexuality as a woman so freely to claim will over your brothers, the same brothers who provide for you, here is your chance to prove me wrong. You will lead them in this hunt for Myrian blood. Return them to me, your task fulfilled, and I too will forgive you as easily as you forgave the savage vessel you spoke to not too long ago. Go, now.

Years at her side have taught me the values of the nest, and she threatened to violate them in her orders. I protested, vehemently, “You would send your own daughter into the dangers of the wilds? I am no hunter! Why should I dirty my hands?”

You hunt men’s hearts, your own brothers. I have spoken, now go!

“I will not be commanded by a vile hag, you sacrifice Zinrah’s unborn children in this order. You sacrifice your own daughter who has devoted her life to your cause. Has nothing I’ve done bring you pride?”

“To Siku’s cause, you ingrate. The Goddess Siku has been so fond of you and all you’ve become; here you repay her and I with these promiscuous acts that threaten your own kin.[/color]”

“Thank Siku, thank Siku! Have you spent so long a time underground that you’ve forgotten what it is to live? She gives me these gifts as you claim, and here you dare to take them away from me.” I deflected her strike at me and rose above her. “You are weak, like that Salazar. We’d be better off without him, and without you. Your worth as a mother is spent, you old infertile pile, and your wisdom is tainted by your own inferiority. You cannot even strike me, far from the hunter you claim me to be. What I do, I do in Siku’s name, and you will have no air to brag of me.”

Go!” my mother shouted, “If you will take me as your mother, I am still your queen! I command you go, now!

I thought little of the moments that followed that night. My pride hurt, and fueled by anger to disprove this woman – admittedly the woman who spawned me – I rushed for the tunnel exit to gather my brothers and win my mother’s love, if that’s what it would take.

***



The moonlight rained over the canopy and ruins. The dark shroud of the jungle weighed over the earth of Falyndar, enveloping the world in shadow. In this hour, darkest night, the Dhani slipped away from the eastern tunnel in their serpent form. Two sizes, three Dhani, they slithered through the shadows where no Myrian could see. Blind as the savages were, the Dhani saw clearly. They saw the rodents scatter into the holes, and the monkeys scale higher in their trees. Caiyha’a whim was in action, for it was no secret the Dhani were of vicious breed, forces to be reckoned with. The Myrians, however, refused to ever place themselves lower.

The leading Dhani, Saxani herself, was crossing the stone and bottom decay of foliage in seconds’ time. Her tolerance for this had grown thin, and brought her to a point of breaking. They slipped through the barricade, if there were such a thing in place near the tunnel. It might have been the Myrians guards for the area they now hunted, in fact.

Her brothers directed her, loosely at that. Their knowledge of the border guard brought them past the Myrians in times before, although they had only done so for hunting. This task exceeding their regular expectations. Although a welcome thought, to bleed the Myrians dry for their offences against the Dhani, it brought on new conflicts. It was a difficulty to slip past the keen eye of the war hungry Myrians, and it would be a superior feat to slip back in once the guards were alerted.

At long last, the taste of savage sweat and blood reached the tongues of the Dhani, tainted by the sweetness of their kin’s blood. The scene was atrocious to the snakes. The skin of the snakeling was in work for some garment. Their mutual blood relative, Tsaliashiatra, was thrown around a fire. Her long, slender beauty reflected the burning embers of the fire on her black mirror scales. Slashes, stabs, and arrow-wounds penetrated her body. Each reusable weapon or projectile had been collected to taste the blood of other snake kind. Her head had been removed, crudely cut away from her Dhani formed body, and mounted on a pike, a totem to all others. There were extra supplies and weapons. Shiatra had all but avenged the death of her child, leaving the Myrian troop scarred.

The small fire was burning clean into the air. Few Myrians slept for their strength, while others watched back into the night. The dim glow of the flames reflected off of the black eyes of the Dhani. Their tongues flickered from their mouths as they spoke to each other in a nearly silent language only serpents would know.

They have butchered her.

We want to put the fire out quickly.

Yes, and their weapons. Do you see a leader?

“The woman, there, by our mother’s sister’s head, she looks as if filled with many suns. Her face glows with pride and praise.”

Ah, yes, but that merely makes her accomplished. I see the woman, there by the sleeping ones. She seems very watchful. Her blade is sharp, and ready. The young one who smiles could be dangerous.

We must remember our goals here. We are here for blood, and blood shall be received. We need no more than one of them. The smiling one deserves her death, life for life. Our blood and sister will be known. Bite their necks, Saxani. Bite them deep where the skin is soft and remove their throats from their bodies. Let their blood be their death, they will drown in the heart water, or shrivel from the lack thereof. I will maim the sleeping ones. Saxani, grab the smiling one. Rashati, the leader. You have endurance I can only envy.

I know no sharper bite, brother. Saxani, be quick. We will wait for your move. She must not touch the weapons. We have no idea what her skill is capable of.

“Yes, brothers.”

The Dhani took their separate ways encircling the Myrian camp. The old woman, the Myrian who seasoned Falyndar’s landscape many years over, was deaf of the Dhani’s slow and precise movements over the wet, dead ground. The crackling flame overcame most noises. The birds of the night still sang their songs.

Saxani grew arms between their point of meeting and the position to strike. She had wrestled like this many times, and found use in the ability of her limbs. They wanted this one alive.

She crept through the low foliage, her tail in close coils for a quick and firm grip. She was ready, as were her brothers. Their dark skin was invisible beyond the glow of the fire and the shadows of the jungle, but snake tongues revealed what eyes could not.

She gave the Myrian her tail. The smiling one shuttered for just a moment, staring in disbelief at the corpse. Saxani had slid her own tail right alongside, disguised under family colors. The leader saw Saxani right away, and moved for her, shouting for the others to prepare themselves and awaken. her brothers had already moved though. Spears met scaly hides, and claws bare skin as Dhani and Myrian clashed in the fiery glow. Her brother had taken the life of one sleeper already, his throat hollow and gushing with blood. His serpentine body moved quickly over the sleeping Myrians, weighing them down what he could, and biting at them from all ends. The Myrians were biting back.

The wiser of the two, not so thirsty for blood had charged with supreme valiance into the camp and coiled up. A scout, thin in build, mean for speed, had been flung into the burning coals. Her brother now reached higher than any Myrian. In his right hand he wielded one of the Myrian’s spears, an insult that they had been undone by their own tools. The leader’s spear now provided no advantage in reach.

Come, Myrian savage,” he greeted in common tongue, “Come that I may taste your blood, as you have tasted mine.” The leader squared off with him, and soon they were enveloped in a titanic battle of their own.

The live Myrians, those on guard prior to the attack, were on her other brother at once. All but two of the sleepers had survived his ambush. He was quick in his strikes, large fangs piercing like knifes into the flesh of the Myrians. Their leather was just another membrane to poke through. The razors of his maw cut the Myrians, or dislodged in their flesh to seek savage hearts.

Saxani had wrapped herself firmly around the smiling one. She wrestled with the Myrian huntress to break her limbs. They needed her, once more, alive, not unscathed. She needed merely not spill her blood prematurely. Once the smiling one was subdued, Saxani looked to her siblings and their struggles. The leader was a threat and challenge alone. Saxani needed to aid her brother in picking off the others who stabbed at him. She reached for the short bow near her and the quiver. She had only seen its use.

Saxani aligned the arrow along the bow, pointing her claw for the Myrian’s heart opposite hers. She lined up a shot and let it go. The arrow sunk into his leg, far off from the heart she hoped to stop, and her struggled to get back up. Her brother glanced at her in recognition. The help was appreciated. The look soon faded as his voracious fangs opened up for more savage flesh and blood. The leader was back on him as well.

They were losing time. The scout was nowhere to be seen after being flung into the fire. The hot coals smoldered on beds of damp flora and dirt. Her brother, well aware, sounded a retreat to his siblings.

A sharp pain in her coils, Saxani loosened her grasp. The smiling one held a dagger ready and stabbed wildly back at the Dhani. Saxani put the bow and quiver over her shoulders, and only then bother to catch the savage’s arms and threw her around. The smiling one was near unconsciousness, a swift blow to her head!

Into the shadows, my brother, my sister. We cannot finish them all if we wish to return to Zinrah,” so he spoke in snaketongue, “We have the killer of our greater sister, and can do nothing to save the bodies of the lost. Come rounds, Saxani, and bring that proud savage to smile upon the faces of those she has hurt most. Zinrah will bath in her blood!” With that, he tackled the leader back into the trees, and swept away all remnants of the fire. The night was dark again, and the scent of ash fresh. Silence came back upon the jungle, save for the struggles of the smiling one, her battle-cries and groans. Saxani broke the Myrian’s left arm with a secure twist, and discarded the knife. They needed to retreat back to Zinrah at once.

Her brothers had disappeared into the upper canopy. She saw them clearly now, their snake bodies breaking over the trees headed for the ruins. The gap was closing. Soon they might be trapped in the wilds if they did not beat the Myrians in the race. They looked back to her, and saw her coming. The maimed Myrian was still putting up a struggle. Her brother came to help her, the Dhani formed.

A scream pierced the night, but it was not a savage’s. The leader had cut Saxani deep across her womb, and inside for good measure. Saxani’s brother arrived too late. The colossal struggle of matriarchs was already being put to action. The smiling one had been left to her brother’s care.

Saxani shot palms into the Myrian’s shoulders. The crude knife she wielded did not deflect the Dhani’s blow. Saxani pinned the leader to the tree and met her eyes. She dared lower herself to the sub-Dhani standards of the Myrians, and spoke in the savage’s native tongue.

“Savage fool! I will end you for what you’ve done thesse past hourss! Zsinrah will be avenged!”

You speak Myrian well, for a snake. You will have to try harder to outdo the vengeance of a mother though.

The Myrian delivers a swift kick to Saxani’s chest. She fell to the ground, and Saxani withdrew to regain her breath.

You think me deaf to my own son’s cries? You will pay in more blood than his brave heart could hold. Come me your head…” The Myrian was quickly shuffling her foot through the terrain, evading tooth and nail of Saxani’s strikes. Pain rang out over all her body as the knife cut across the surface of her scaled hide. The Myrian took to Saxani’s back and stabbed for her neck. She was pushed away only into the Dhani’s shoulder.

They are coming!” a shout in the night from her brother. Snakes would scatter.

She is bleeding. Get down from there! Leave her Saxani! We have what we came for. Your life is not worth hundreds of the savages’!

Saxani ripped the Myrian from her back and tossed the knife into the brush. “I want only this one!” Saxani’s whole mass glided through the jungle, the Myrian running fast for something else to cut the Dhani with. “Come here!” Saxani headed off the leader and caught her by the foot. The Myrian had tried to jump over her. Saxani pulled her back in, her claws digging into the soft mortal flesh and hair. The Myrian kicked her in the face.

Unhand me, beast!” She kicked again, and again, but on the third time found her foot lodged in Saxani’s maw. A Myrian cry pierced the night, alerting the others.

Saxani!!” His voice was but a cry in the distance. There was no time to waste.

“Your blood has been spilled,” Saxani informed the Myrian as she dragged the savage closer and closer, “and you are no longer fit for Siku’s greatness.” She grabbed the Myrian by the throat and arms while she looked into her eyes. The black, soulless reflection of the unbiased, moonlit jungle radiated off of Saxani’s mirroring lenses. “But I will have you.” She dragged the Myrian off back toward Zinrah. Her brothers were leading ahead of her. The ambushed Myrian troop had regrouped and followed after the Dhani. Others might have been coming too. The jungle rustled on all sides.

Her unburdened brother saw the ruins first. A Myrian blocked his path, a spear forward. He had become as a Dhani now, shifting prior after hearing the Myrians come for him. There was no longer a need for the serpent’s stealth. The Myrian charged ahead for him, greeting them in another battle. Saxani was following close behind. The myrian leader could do little than to punch, kick and bite. She could hardly scratch the Dhani, let along make her bleed. The Myrian found a wound inflicted earlier, and dug into it. Saxani whipped the Myrian into a nearby tree, and she didn’t move much after.

They were nearing the charging Myrian. It seemed her was lone, perhaps a member of the troop. Foolish… The lead Dhani swept away the Myrian’s spear with the guide of his arm and punched the Myrian in the throat where the jaw meets the neck. He was sent backwards into the pillar, and blood ran from his mouth. “Quick! They will not dare much further into the ruins!

The smiling one was limb in her brothers arms, which reassured Saxani. She was feeling heavier. Saxani felt weighed down by the Myrian deadweight that she carried. She was still not done with her though.

The Dhani passed into the safety of Zinrah’s stony threshold, the stone archway ruins welcoming them home. Arrows and spears were chucked from the jungle at the Dhani, projectiles that fell short or glanced the sides of Saxani’s tail as she serpentined for the tunnel.

The Myrian was limb in her arms; Saxani pulled her up close to deliver a message to the savage troop that dared come no further, just out of reach. Nothing more of weapons were wasted on stone. Saxani was ready to deliver her speech when the Myrian seemed to awaken from a slumber, and reached to gouge out the Dhani’s eyes. Myrian profanity roared from the mother, cries for her child’s suffering and loss. Saxani restrained the Myrian, grabbed hold of her and coiled around her. She looked back on the Myrians who still had fight left in them, restrained by a political bond.

“For all your fire, you have nothing to show for it now!” She was at loss of thought, filled with just a fuzzy idea as she was overcome with the adrenal rush. She gazed upon the helpless Myrian. For the fight she had put up, it seemed to have not been worth her while at the time. A cruel smile crossed her face. She coiled around the Myrian, choking all air from her. In a swift contraction, crack!, the back of the Myrian was snapped. She screamed in pain, what final breath she had.

Saxani raised her head and looked down on the Myrian. The shadow on the ruins, the claw ripping through the savage’s chest and out the other side… “Her heart goes out to you, children of Myri!” and Saxani whipped the Myrian’s failed heart into the wilds. With the body still in her grasp she ripped the head off and tossed the parts across the ruins. It was a suiting act of vengeance for what they had done to her mother’s sister.

Saxani…” His voice was but an echo, faint and distant. “Saxani!” The caves were in a haze. What strange magic had permeated Zinrah? What sickly poison did she leak into Saxani’s body? The Dhani fell half way into the eastern tunnel. Her brothers’ voices faded behind the screams of a mother.


It couldn’t have been soon after. Something in her body just told her it was still night, not soon after. The priestesses were all around her in vigorous attendance. She was bleeding, all over, but worst of all her womb. The cradle of life sacred to every mother, the few Dhani of Zinrah above all others had been ravaged.

…you send your own daughter into the night! You have thrown away her fertility.

She is my daughter, not yours! She will heal, and all will be fine. Praise Siku for their sacrifice, and the blood they now offer up to her!

The clouds thicken, Tsalisashi. Even Siku will not be pleased by the blood of a savage at the cost of her child’s children. Siku is mother to us all, and expects mothers of us. You have denied her that in your spiteful behavior. Keep your claws to yourself, else the Queen should hear my words and your pains grow beyond belief!” The Queen looked onto Saxani and said, “Pray Siku a friend of Rak’keli. We have removed what poison we could, but we can do little for your womb.

Saxani looked down at herself and was stunned. Her world faded to black, pulsing with horrified screams. She fell short of breath and then she slept.

***


The night had turned to day, and day passed overhead again. This night they offered the smiling Myrians up to Siku. Through the hours in imprisonment, the Myrian had only smiled back at the Dhani, all but unaware of what wound Saxani had sustained. “There are hundreds of my kind for every one of yours. We will not be cut so unaware from now on.” Saxani had lost all hopes of being a mother, and now suffered a wound that weighed on Zinrah as a whole. It was not to be said she was a martyr, or received special attention. She was a tragedy the Dhani would not soon forget, but forget they would, in time… It was a rally call, the Myrians killing unborn children of Zinrah, a story for the Dhani to muster behind and use to strike back at the Myrians when they could. In that note, it was a wonder what children she might have been bearing, having been around with so many men as she had, experimenting and hunting.

This night’s sacrifice went out to Siku, with especial prayed for guidance in such hard times. A rarity, they reached out for Siku for healing of sorts. Saxani would attend, not only in faith for her Mother-Goddess, but in shared hopes that she might be forgiven for any offense she had done to Siku. She had been careless, which started this downward spiral, and once more suffered for carelessness which resulted in a permanent scar on Zinrah. Beyond the reprimanding of the other Queens, Sashi heard little more. There was, however, the ever-present sensation of glaring. Saxani had only done as her queen commanded, and in Siku’s name, at that.

Saxani had been looking around for someone to comfort her. The priestesses tended to her, yes, but who was there to mend her heart. She had lost far more than blood and flesh. She lost a family. Her mother was distant now, and avoided to even come near the priestesses that surrounded Saxani. Salazar had not set his eyes on her since the training grounds incident. Hassar, Saxani vaguely remembered Hassar being there for her, when she was brought further down into Zinrah’s depths for healing. She remembered him, yes! He was there for…he was there, and saw her wounds and heard the queens. Then he left, he left giving Saxani a disappointed stare.

The events continued as they were planned to. Saxani, covered in natural antiseptics and rags, attended. She forced her way to go, but vowed she would see this one suffer. For all she’d done, she deserved that much, at the least. She was welcomed among the priestesses for her devotion. Still, she was urged to reserve her strength, else her wounds might break again. Saxani agreed enough Dhani blood had been spilled.

The ritual was in commencement. Zinrah was brought together as a whole, and the High Priestess sent forth her prayers. Siku would hear them; hear the cries of the children, and soon the screams of this sickly Myrian. She was smiling. Until the end she was smiling, now held up and being pulled at each end. Her limbs had been broken for good measure, and she screamed as they were pulled apart.

Black serpents rose up from the shadows and coiled all around Siku’s Shrine. Enormous things they were, and black as the night they slid through. Then she appeared. The Goddess Siku rose up behind the High Priestess. She excused herself from the ritual for but a moment. Siku held Hiarisspanyin dearly and whispered something to her. They each grinned. Saxani spun around with her nest, and saw the slow image of the Goddess emerging from the crowd behind the High Priestess, who now spoke with the Queen Snhamtanabis. She thought she was losing herself to blood loss again and brought herself to a stop. Siku was here, in her most tangible form.

The ritual came to its climax. With a shooting motion, the High Priestess ripped away at the smiling one’s innards and virtue, desecrating her body with a cruel barb. The order was given, and she was cut apart, and left to bleed on the altar. Siku stared back into the faces of her children, and all they were. She was grinning.

The Goddess-Queen of the Dhani towered over the High Priestess, but still Hiarisspanyin brought attention to herself. On behalf of their great Mother, she spoke to Zinrah. “Children of Siku…you have prayed to your Mother for years in devout worship. You bring honor to your people, and pride to the great Mother of us all with your actions – some more than others. Children of Siku, she has heard your prayers!” Zinrah stared back in amazement. There was no cheering or shouting. There was no look of awe or surprise. There were Dhani and the mother to them all. It said enough on its own.

Siku’s magnificence slithered past the altar. Her companions reached out and hung from her shrine, and all through the crowd. One by one, daughters of the priesthood were spoken to, some gifted with Siku’s blessing, Venenum. Saxani was not one of them; it was merely a dream of hers. The priestesses gifted were much older than she, and had devoted their lives more than she possibly could have in any of her time. She lusted to be in their positions. Siku passed over Saxani, glancing a moment with her slit-pupil eyes.

Siku looked back to the High Priestess who then looked at Sashi. Siku approached her and leaned in to whisper. In all of Zinrah’s silence, no one could overhear their Goddess-Queen. When Siku pulled away, a mere look of confusion crossed Sashi’s face. She dared not speak back or question the Goddess-Queen. Siku turned to Saxani and approached her.

The Goddess-Queen leaned in to Saxani. Saxani’s nerves were solid like the caves of Zinrah. Siku was Mother to them all, and she welcomed Siku with comfort in her heart. The Goddess spoke to Saxani.

A mother provides for her daughter.

Saxani looked back with confusion much like her mother’s. Siku looked back to Sashi, and extended her arm. Saxani saw the coiled snake slither down in her mother’s skin, from her neck to her palm. The Goddess’s hand was upon Saxani’s shoulders, unnoticed in the temperature, hidden by the radiating aura. The snake slid over Saxani and coiled itself comfortably on Siku’s child, a daughter worth no less than others. Saxani smiled back to her Goddess, Queen, and Mother and to the loss of Sashi’s.
Sashisaxani
For Her Glory
 
Posts: 83
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Joined roleplay: May 8th, 2012, 10:19 pm
Race: Dhani
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