Spring 77, 424 AV
It was time, he knew. It was getting close to three years since his last body joining ritual. The Rivarians' attitude had been cautious enough when he had arrived over a year ago. His body had not been fresh enough to forestall occasional stares even then. He had certainly not made any effort to conceal his Nuit existence from them. But now the condition of this body was degenerating to the point that he was best suited to play some sort of hideous graveyard monstrosity in a theater production.
He believed they were worried more about pestilence than they were aghast at his appearance. In truth, he could not blame them. It was all very easy for him to make his claim that Nuit were immune to most disease. But, to be perfectly honest, he truly did not know whether he could still carry such germs, regardless of his own insusceptibility to them. As yet, he had not known of any epidemic he had triggered in Zeltiva, the only place he had lived prior to traveling here. Nor had there been any outbreak of plague on the ship which had brought him here.
But he understood their caution and took no offense. This whole business with the near infertility of their race was certainly explanation enough for taking extra care where disease was concerned. He still was not sure if he had heard correctly about the male-only situation. He had his own focuses and did not want to seem like he was prying, but, true enough, he did not recall ever seeing an Akalak female since his arrival.
His own priorities had been difficult enough, but were more or less resolved now. Lodging being the first detail to attend to. Atri's Place had been reluctant at first, but when his "interview" for lodging had turned to cleanliness habits, they had hit common ground, practically rejoicing in the discovery of a kindred spirit. Kuvarakh was as obsessed with staying clean as anyone Atri had ever met. They both indulged in morning rituals that bordered on molecular level detail. As well, for their rapport, was the fact that Kuvarakh had no interest in carousing or romance. There were no women in Kuvarakh's life, save for the memory of his daughter.
With Atri's endorsement, Kuvarakh had found odd jobs consistently, many for Atri himself. Lately, he had found himself frequently sought out for temporary work underwater. Not construction or anything contracted like that. More often, searches and scavenging, or retrievals. Occasionally commissioned to check for herbal growth due to his ability to remain underwater for extended periods since, as a Nuit, he did not need to breathe. This advantage, coupled with the fact that little of his monetary rewards were spent on amenities such as food and drink, went far to keep his landlord content.
That left his other purpose for residency in Riverfall. It was said to be the seat of the Goddess, Akajia, The Lady of Secrets. It was also said to be the seat of Wysar, God of Discipline, but Kuvarakh was not possessed of such zeal in his name. Nor, indeed, in any of the other gods' names that may or may not reside here. He wished to make his daughter's death a "cause". He had, for some time now, been in the grip of an obsession to bring an end to Nuit's need to replace their bodies. This stemmed from the fact that she had been killed by a Nuit in desperate need of a body. He had convinced himself, rightly or wrongly, that Akajia, as the Lady of Secrets, possessed the knowledge of how to accomplish this. Or at least that she possessed the secret of where this knowledge could be obtained.
He wished to court her favor. He felt it would be frowned upon by Akajia for a stranger to arrive in town and, with no additional deference, simply stroll up to The Night Tower and ask for a boon of knowledge. No, he needed to prove himself devoted. He had decided that whatever else he did to mark himself in her favorable eye, he would learn the language of her people. He would show his reverence in the most fundamental of measures, by letting his plea be heard in her peoples' language, not make them "lower" themselves and their dignity coming down to "common". To approach the notice of a Goddess with anything "common" was to be measured as such.
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Completed Culture Shock
Kuvarakh strives to gain acceptance...the hard way, as usual.
(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]
Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 22nd, 2012, 8:02 am
Last edited by Kuvarakh on February 9th, 2013, 9:29 pm, edited 3 times in total.
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
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Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
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- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
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Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 24th, 2012, 2:46 am
And the effort it was taking should be of worthy notice. It was not as though Kuvarakh was a student of languages, but he had not seen a language that was different in the way that this language was different. He had seen how much of 'common' was comprised of words developed from other languages.
His teacher, Kalagin, had explained that it must be so. 'Common' was as much a language as it was an element of diplomacy. If a nation was approached with a language formed of elements and syntax born even partially of the language of an enemy, it had best have elements of their own as well. Likewise with trade, and alliance, the establishing of sailing lanes and protocols.
And common was prevalent in Riverfall as well. Kuvarakh got the notion that his teacher was somewhat puzzled as to why a man so well versed in common, as Kuvarakh was, would be so determined to learn Tukant. Common was the far more culturally versatile language. He had seen how many students Kalagin had that sought to learn common. The only other person in his class was a woman that wanted to learn for the sake of pleasing her "Talvis", which Kuvarakh assumed was not his name, but rather, the literal equivalent of "husband". Kalagin acknowledged that his translation was as close as a non-Akalak was likely to achieve or understand. Kuvarakh did not press the issue. In the long run, perhaps, it would have been best if he had...
Kalagin seemed almost dizzy with delight at the woman and her reason for attending the class. Kuvarakh asked him after one session what "Nakivak" meant, if it was the Tukant word for "wife". Again, Kalagin responded with his vague assessment that it would serve for now, and that it could not be explained to a foreigner in terms that would clarify it any better. In the meantime, both Kuvarakh and the woman struggled to understand the structure of the language.
It took Kuvarakh nearly all of his first season in Riverfall just to learn HOW to learn it. The difficulty was not so much the memory of the words and what they meant, though that obstacle was present. Nor was it in an unfamiliar structure in which the order of the types of words were delivered. THAT element was not so dramatically different as common. It was in the structure of the individual words themselves.
Words in Tukant possessed an abundance of what would be considered prefixes and suffixes in common. But this was greatly compounded by the fact that additional syllables were comprised of what would be separate words entirely. Adjectives, adverbs, prepositions and the objects thereof were universally "tacked on" to stretch the word into an all-inclusive concept of every part of the sentence relating TO that one word. A sentence in common that may have eight or ten words of two to eight letters would be four or five words of seven to twelve letters in Tukant, but the order in which the meanings were presented would be similar enough to common.
Where common would have "I will be right back", Tukant would probably be three words, the first defining "I-alone", the second, "to-this spot", the last, "return-quickly". Once Kuvarakh had grasped the nature of word structure. The understanding of the different meanings began to make far more sense. He was still far from possessing an even crude understanding of spoken sentences at a conversational pace, but he advanced in his two years to be able to reach a syllable-by-syllable-breakdown that enabled an accurate translation. Now it was just a matter of practicing the grasp he had, and the slow introduction of new elements of vocabulary.
Things were looking up...
His teacher, Kalagin, had explained that it must be so. 'Common' was as much a language as it was an element of diplomacy. If a nation was approached with a language formed of elements and syntax born even partially of the language of an enemy, it had best have elements of their own as well. Likewise with trade, and alliance, the establishing of sailing lanes and protocols.
And common was prevalent in Riverfall as well. Kuvarakh got the notion that his teacher was somewhat puzzled as to why a man so well versed in common, as Kuvarakh was, would be so determined to learn Tukant. Common was the far more culturally versatile language. He had seen how many students Kalagin had that sought to learn common. The only other person in his class was a woman that wanted to learn for the sake of pleasing her "Talvis", which Kuvarakh assumed was not his name, but rather, the literal equivalent of "husband". Kalagin acknowledged that his translation was as close as a non-Akalak was likely to achieve or understand. Kuvarakh did not press the issue. In the long run, perhaps, it would have been best if he had...
Kalagin seemed almost dizzy with delight at the woman and her reason for attending the class. Kuvarakh asked him after one session what "Nakivak" meant, if it was the Tukant word for "wife". Again, Kalagin responded with his vague assessment that it would serve for now, and that it could not be explained to a foreigner in terms that would clarify it any better. In the meantime, both Kuvarakh and the woman struggled to understand the structure of the language.
It took Kuvarakh nearly all of his first season in Riverfall just to learn HOW to learn it. The difficulty was not so much the memory of the words and what they meant, though that obstacle was present. Nor was it in an unfamiliar structure in which the order of the types of words were delivered. THAT element was not so dramatically different as common. It was in the structure of the individual words themselves.
Words in Tukant possessed an abundance of what would be considered prefixes and suffixes in common. But this was greatly compounded by the fact that additional syllables were comprised of what would be separate words entirely. Adjectives, adverbs, prepositions and the objects thereof were universally "tacked on" to stretch the word into an all-inclusive concept of every part of the sentence relating TO that one word. A sentence in common that may have eight or ten words of two to eight letters would be four or five words of seven to twelve letters in Tukant, but the order in which the meanings were presented would be similar enough to common.
Where common would have "I will be right back", Tukant would probably be three words, the first defining "I-alone", the second, "to-this spot", the last, "return-quickly". Once Kuvarakh had grasped the nature of word structure. The understanding of the different meanings began to make far more sense. He was still far from possessing an even crude understanding of spoken sentences at a conversational pace, but he advanced in his two years to be able to reach a syllable-by-syllable-breakdown that enabled an accurate translation. Now it was just a matter of practicing the grasp he had, and the slow introduction of new elements of vocabulary.
Things were looking up...
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
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Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
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- Medals: 3
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Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 25th, 2012, 3:52 am
He did some of this practice while he worked. Not so much trying to converse with co-workers or citizens when he had been asked to sweep streets or wash shop fronts and windows. If he got something wrong, he might start some incident by mistakenly insulting someone, either by incorrect wording or structure, or by such poor pronunciation that he came off sounding like he'd said something offensive.
Once, even while cleaning up stables, he was practicing his counting and erred on a side too similar to some word of alert or command that got all the stabled animals anxious and aggravated. The stable master had rushed in demanding answers. When Kuvarakh explained and recounted his words, the man stopped him suddenly and explained that his poor accentuation led to sounds similar to the commands given to a bucket brigade putting out a fire. One of the bulls had been in such a fire and had grown quickly upset and his mood had been sensed by all the other animals.
The stable master calmed the animals while Kuvarakh apologized for his ineptitude. But by then, the man was laughing and advising him to avoid practicing the speech of animals and stick with common. Kuvarakh remarked that 'all-too-frequently, common IS the speech of animals', and they shared a good laugh.
It seemed though, that he had reached a point of no return, body-wise. He didn't need to breathe, except to have wind to speak with. So he was not as aware of his state of decay as those near him, as indicated by their subtle attempts to cover their noses and turn up-wind of him. It was not quite so bad when he did underwater work, though if he stayed still for more than a chime or two, the scavengers and bottom-feeders tried to take bites out of him. But after a few bells of submerged activity, he came out much less pungent than when he went in.
Normally, he spent a good deal of this time going over his Tukant practice routines as he dug up marine herbs or scraped debris from pilings. He often found items and returned them to the harbor office to add to the "unclaimed" bin, in case owners realized their loss and came looking. There were often temptations to adopt an attitude of "finders keepers", but he always dismissed it as a test of his devotion and judged that there was someone out there who had lost it and was surely needing it more than he did.
But the day came where one of his fingers up and snapped off while prying a length of rope that had become wound around a rudder pivot. His spirits sank suddenly in acknowledgement that he had put off his search for a new body too long. His imagination grew morbid and out of control and he imagined a shambling corpse, dragging gray strips of putrescent flesh, sloughing off of slimy bones as he left a trail of rot through the streets of Riverfall. His presence bringing shrieks of loathing and warnings of plague from alerted citizens as they called for guards or militia to come and burn the abomination on the spot.
He began to panic and swam for the far shore, not needing to surface for breath, and kicking his legs, frog-like, as his arms shot out straight before him in a breast-stroke sweep. As he approached the protruding point of land near the "Glass Gull" wine and cheese house, he thought he noticed a wriggling figure in the water ahead and to his left. He knew this was the general direction of the "Blue Gem", a residential structure for aquatic species, so he dismissed it as one of them going for, what would be, for them, a walk.
The exertion gave his mind a different focus of concentration and he calmed down somewhat. He was dismayed at the thought that he needed to begin his distasteful job of searching for dead bodies to inhabit, but resigned himself to the necessity of it. He decided he would inform Atri of his impending absence in the morning and see what sort of concession he would require to keep his status as resident there while he conducted his search.
He moved in a lazy circle, going through a few adjustments of swim strokes, since the opportunity presented itself. His course brought him close to where he had taken notice of the aquatic figure before. Curiously, the figure was still there, but this time there was no movement coming from it at all. He propelled himself closer and found to his initial shock that it was not an aquatic race at all. It was a human woman. A drowned, dead human woman!
Shock gave way to hope as he decided it was a sign, a reward, a blessing from his goddess for his devotion. In his bell of need, she had provided for him. The fact that the body was female did not distress him. He thought that perhaps this was a concession she saw fit to require from him, to know the feeling of being in a female body. And it was young and sturdy! He sang his praises to Akajia beneath the waves as he made his way to the shore to begin the ritual.
Everything went smoothly, except for the moderate difficulty of applying the glyph to the wrist which sported the wide silver bracelet...
Once, even while cleaning up stables, he was practicing his counting and erred on a side too similar to some word of alert or command that got all the stabled animals anxious and aggravated. The stable master had rushed in demanding answers. When Kuvarakh explained and recounted his words, the man stopped him suddenly and explained that his poor accentuation led to sounds similar to the commands given to a bucket brigade putting out a fire. One of the bulls had been in such a fire and had grown quickly upset and his mood had been sensed by all the other animals.
The stable master calmed the animals while Kuvarakh apologized for his ineptitude. But by then, the man was laughing and advising him to avoid practicing the speech of animals and stick with common. Kuvarakh remarked that 'all-too-frequently, common IS the speech of animals', and they shared a good laugh.
It seemed though, that he had reached a point of no return, body-wise. He didn't need to breathe, except to have wind to speak with. So he was not as aware of his state of decay as those near him, as indicated by their subtle attempts to cover their noses and turn up-wind of him. It was not quite so bad when he did underwater work, though if he stayed still for more than a chime or two, the scavengers and bottom-feeders tried to take bites out of him. But after a few bells of submerged activity, he came out much less pungent than when he went in.
Normally, he spent a good deal of this time going over his Tukant practice routines as he dug up marine herbs or scraped debris from pilings. He often found items and returned them to the harbor office to add to the "unclaimed" bin, in case owners realized their loss and came looking. There were often temptations to adopt an attitude of "finders keepers", but he always dismissed it as a test of his devotion and judged that there was someone out there who had lost it and was surely needing it more than he did.
But the day came where one of his fingers up and snapped off while prying a length of rope that had become wound around a rudder pivot. His spirits sank suddenly in acknowledgement that he had put off his search for a new body too long. His imagination grew morbid and out of control and he imagined a shambling corpse, dragging gray strips of putrescent flesh, sloughing off of slimy bones as he left a trail of rot through the streets of Riverfall. His presence bringing shrieks of loathing and warnings of plague from alerted citizens as they called for guards or militia to come and burn the abomination on the spot.
He began to panic and swam for the far shore, not needing to surface for breath, and kicking his legs, frog-like, as his arms shot out straight before him in a breast-stroke sweep. As he approached the protruding point of land near the "Glass Gull" wine and cheese house, he thought he noticed a wriggling figure in the water ahead and to his left. He knew this was the general direction of the "Blue Gem", a residential structure for aquatic species, so he dismissed it as one of them going for, what would be, for them, a walk.
The exertion gave his mind a different focus of concentration and he calmed down somewhat. He was dismayed at the thought that he needed to begin his distasteful job of searching for dead bodies to inhabit, but resigned himself to the necessity of it. He decided he would inform Atri of his impending absence in the morning and see what sort of concession he would require to keep his status as resident there while he conducted his search.
He moved in a lazy circle, going through a few adjustments of swim strokes, since the opportunity presented itself. His course brought him close to where he had taken notice of the aquatic figure before. Curiously, the figure was still there, but this time there was no movement coming from it at all. He propelled himself closer and found to his initial shock that it was not an aquatic race at all. It was a human woman. A drowned, dead human woman!
Shock gave way to hope as he decided it was a sign, a reward, a blessing from his goddess for his devotion. In his bell of need, she had provided for him. The fact that the body was female did not distress him. He thought that perhaps this was a concession she saw fit to require from him, to know the feeling of being in a female body. And it was young and sturdy! He sang his praises to Akajia beneath the waves as he made his way to the shore to begin the ritual.
Everything went smoothly, except for the moderate difficulty of applying the glyph to the wrist which sported the wide silver bracelet...
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
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Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
- Location: Alvadas
- Race: Nuit
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
- Medals: 3
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Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 25th, 2012, 8:12 pm
The disorienting, semi-comatose swoon which followed the ritual was oddly embellished by outside stimuli. There were voices, mostly speaking Tukant. Kuvarakh was too unfocused to even attempt to translate, but the one thing that did stand out was the worry. Then there was a sensation of being lifted and placed on something, followed by a light, restful swaying, as though being rocked. This ended after a bell or so, and he was sure he was lifted and carried into a building, judging by the altered ambiance and the lack of wind and wave sounds.
"I'm...al...right," he managed to gasp, his voice so weak he did not notice the change in pitch. There were now two voices hovering over him, one male one female. Both were greatly relieved to hear a coherent remark.
"Thank the Mother she is alright!" the man blurted. He began calling orders in Tukant, all that Kuvarakh could translate was 'her rest', a question relating to a 'thing' spoken with loathing, and what had to be names. Apparently, the woman present was named 'Ti'sali', and the man was 'Undanas'. In a spark of insight, Kuvarakh realized the name of the man contained the Tukant for 'Oath'. This man then reverted to common, telling someone to go fetch 'Lorogon'. Kuvarakh did not know if this was yet another name, or some word in Tukant that his teacher had not touched on yet. The soft, yet strangely intense commotion receded and a door closed, leaving Kuvarakh in a wondrously restful and soft environment to recover from the ritual.
A few bells later, he rose from the bed, puzzling over his surroundings. Everywhere, there were fancy and exotic clothes and accessories, some for outer wear, under wear, perfumes, cosmetics, hair ties and clips, as well as several items he recalled his wife requiring from time to time. His mind was still fuzzy, but it sobered quickly when he glanced in the mirror and saw..."A WOMAN??"
He stared as the memory of the ritual returned. Yes, it HAD been a woman, but he had been desperate. Then he recalled his rationale that maybe Akajia had wished it so, the better for him to relate to her. It didn't seem like such a good idea now. He was clothed, but of course, his eyes were drawn instinctively to his(?) breasts. He ran his hands over them, to be sure, and suddenly "caught" himself.
He gasped and recoiled his hands in disgust. 'What am I? Some kind of pervert? Why do you think that? I can't...what? touch my own body? I'm taking advantage of circumstance to grope an innocent woman! NO! This is my body now, I have no reason to be afraid of it. What am I going to do, spend the rest of life with my hands out to my sides? Don't give me that! You know damned well you're eager to 'feel yourself up' you sick bastard.'
His sense of honor warred with his practicality. He came to a truce with himself. He knew there would be times he'd be seeing himself and touching himself (herself?), but he would not do it for any erotic reason. He'd have blushed at the thought if a Nuit could blush. His regimen of cleanliness was going to make it impossible for him not to detail every aspect of femininity this body possessed. He was just going to have to get used to it. Part of him snickered at himself, part of him glared.
The door opened and a woman stepped in. Her face fell as she looked at Kuvarakh. "By the Mother, you must clean yourself up! Your hair is atrocious. Why are you not drying it? Lorogon is on his way here. He does not know what happened. We are hoping there will not be anything to tell." She was impeccably styled and poised. The concern and apprehension on her face took away somewhat from the image of feminine perfection as she leaned in close. "Did he... it... did it... Have you?"
Kuvarakh needed no enhancement to present a look of complete confusion. "What?... HAVE me?... What are you talking about?" at the higher pitched tone of voice, his current gender predicament came back to him. It was annoying how quickly he forgot if he wasn't speaking or looking in a mirror. He grimaced as he realized she was concerned that this body had been raped by the body he had just abandoned. They had found it by the shore, his old decayed self lying on top of this female. His head dropped into his hands. By the gods, this was not going to be easy to explain.
"I'm...al...right," he managed to gasp, his voice so weak he did not notice the change in pitch. There were now two voices hovering over him, one male one female. Both were greatly relieved to hear a coherent remark.
"Thank the Mother she is alright!" the man blurted. He began calling orders in Tukant, all that Kuvarakh could translate was 'her rest', a question relating to a 'thing' spoken with loathing, and what had to be names. Apparently, the woman present was named 'Ti'sali', and the man was 'Undanas'. In a spark of insight, Kuvarakh realized the name of the man contained the Tukant for 'Oath'. This man then reverted to common, telling someone to go fetch 'Lorogon'. Kuvarakh did not know if this was yet another name, or some word in Tukant that his teacher had not touched on yet. The soft, yet strangely intense commotion receded and a door closed, leaving Kuvarakh in a wondrously restful and soft environment to recover from the ritual.
A few bells later, he rose from the bed, puzzling over his surroundings. Everywhere, there were fancy and exotic clothes and accessories, some for outer wear, under wear, perfumes, cosmetics, hair ties and clips, as well as several items he recalled his wife requiring from time to time. His mind was still fuzzy, but it sobered quickly when he glanced in the mirror and saw..."A WOMAN??"
He stared as the memory of the ritual returned. Yes, it HAD been a woman, but he had been desperate. Then he recalled his rationale that maybe Akajia had wished it so, the better for him to relate to her. It didn't seem like such a good idea now. He was clothed, but of course, his eyes were drawn instinctively to his(?) breasts. He ran his hands over them, to be sure, and suddenly "caught" himself.
He gasped and recoiled his hands in disgust. 'What am I? Some kind of pervert? Why do you think that? I can't...what? touch my own body? I'm taking advantage of circumstance to grope an innocent woman! NO! This is my body now, I have no reason to be afraid of it. What am I going to do, spend the rest of life with my hands out to my sides? Don't give me that! You know damned well you're eager to 'feel yourself up' you sick bastard.'
His sense of honor warred with his practicality. He came to a truce with himself. He knew there would be times he'd be seeing himself and touching himself (herself?), but he would not do it for any erotic reason. He'd have blushed at the thought if a Nuit could blush. His regimen of cleanliness was going to make it impossible for him not to detail every aspect of femininity this body possessed. He was just going to have to get used to it. Part of him snickered at himself, part of him glared.
The door opened and a woman stepped in. Her face fell as she looked at Kuvarakh. "By the Mother, you must clean yourself up! Your hair is atrocious. Why are you not drying it? Lorogon is on his way here. He does not know what happened. We are hoping there will not be anything to tell." She was impeccably styled and poised. The concern and apprehension on her face took away somewhat from the image of feminine perfection as she leaned in close. "Did he... it... did it... Have you?"
Kuvarakh needed no enhancement to present a look of complete confusion. "What?... HAVE me?... What are you talking about?" at the higher pitched tone of voice, his current gender predicament came back to him. It was annoying how quickly he forgot if he wasn't speaking or looking in a mirror. He grimaced as he realized she was concerned that this body had been raped by the body he had just abandoned. They had found it by the shore, his old decayed self lying on top of this female. His head dropped into his hands. By the gods, this was not going to be easy to explain.
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
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Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
- Location: Alvadas
- Race: Nuit
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
- Medals: 3
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Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 26th, 2012, 1:56 am
"Look, I am not who you think I am. My name is Kuvarakh, and I am a Nuit, this body was dead when I found it. Drowned, in the water off the shore where you found me." His words were slurred, his control over this new tongue clumsy and sporadic. It would take a day or two for him to gain proper articulation.
The woman, who he guessed was the one he'd heard named 'Ti'sali', was not listening. She was gathering up brushes and clips, sashes and spritzer cans, applying scented mists and furiously brushing order into the damp mat of hair, drying in disarray, as Kuvarakh grimaced with the stress on his new scalp. Other girls were tossing clothes on the bed, switching items, mixing and matching for color coordination and textural embellishment.
"OWW!" Kuvarakh snapped, "Stop that! I told you, I am n-..." Ti'sali slapped him. Not an angry, malicious or vengeful slap, just an authoritative slap to display who was in charge and who was to submit. Kuvarakh was stunned as she went on.
"Now be silent. We will have you presentable for your Talvis, Lorogon, before long. He will be willing to wait, but you must submit to an examination. We must be sure that ghoulish thing did not soil you. Lorogon is a good man, he will understand the trauma you are suffering. Any woman would be trying to blank such a terrible memory from her mind. But you must not lose your focus on your obligation. You will bear him strong sons and he will keep you from harm."
Apprehension grew to dread as Kuvarakh listened to her remarks. His recollection of his teacher, Kalagin's, definition of the word "Talvis" hiked his anxiety up a notch. The additions of "examination" and "soil" made him cringe with humiliated anticipation. But when Ti'sali mentioned the 'obligation to bear strong sons' his female body rose nearly of its own accord and backed in horror towards the door.
"Venalla! Get back here at once! You are not nearly ready to meet your Talvis!" Ti'sali stormed. She whipped a finger towards one of the girls and whisked it back at the door. "Stop her! She must not leave yet!" Even before she spoke the second word, the targeted girl was on her feet moving to block Kuvarakh/Venalla from escaping.
Kuvarakh stumbled, his control of the body far from complete. Ti'sali's look turned to despair as she misunderstood Kuvarakh's clumsiness, thinking it to stem from soreness and inner bruising. Her hands flung to her mouth and burst into tears. "Oh Mother! No! She has been defiled! How will we tell Lorogon?"
Kuvarakh, in the meantime, had again lost track of the significance of being in a slim woman's body. He anticipated an easy bump to shrug the intervening girl aside and plunge through the door. Instead, the girl easily applied an upper body hold on him and wrenched him back onto the bed where several girls converged on him, holding him down as Ti'sali moved to examine his female area for signs of violation.
Kuvarakh's spirit went numb as the examination proceeded. He mentally detached himself, unable to deal with the embarrassment. At about the same time that a measure of maturity returned to him and he realized he was being overly sensitive to something he was going to have to be dealing with daily now, Ti'sali straightened, her face dark with anger.
"What is the matter with you? There is no sign of defilement at all. No scratches, no seed, nothing! What? Did you think Lorogon expects you to be a virgin? He is not a small man. He would not expect a virgin to accommodate him! There are more than a few others that would be eager to lie with him. You're being foolish!" She checked a chart, "Nor are you about to start your private time. What troubles you so? Did that dead, decaying body wash ashore while you were relaxing? Did it really upset you this much?"
Kuvarakh fought the girls off, who backed away from him at a nod from Ti'sali. He sat up and blurted out, "I told you but you did not listen! I am not this Venalla you think I am. I am Kuvarakh and I am a Nuit. Ill fortune befell me and I suddenly found myself in need of a body. Normally I am a MAN, damn it, but this was the only body available. I had thought The Lady of Shadows willed it, so I took it. I meant no deception, but it is a disorienting process and I found myself already here... and I..."
He stopped, again seeing that she was not listening. Her face nearly drained of all color and she backed away towards the door, protectively shooing the other girls through ahead of her. "You... you... MURDERED HER! YOU FIEND! YOU MONSTER!"
The ramifications of this misunderstanding stunned Kuvarakh to immobility. He saw the women slip through the door and realized that he needed to get out. "NO! I DIDN'T KILL HER! SHE WAS ALREADY DEAD!" he called in desperation as he reached the door, only to have it slam in his face. Even as he gripped the knob, he heard the sliding of the lock and realized he was trapped.
The woman, who he guessed was the one he'd heard named 'Ti'sali', was not listening. She was gathering up brushes and clips, sashes and spritzer cans, applying scented mists and furiously brushing order into the damp mat of hair, drying in disarray, as Kuvarakh grimaced with the stress on his new scalp. Other girls were tossing clothes on the bed, switching items, mixing and matching for color coordination and textural embellishment.
"OWW!" Kuvarakh snapped, "Stop that! I told you, I am n-..." Ti'sali slapped him. Not an angry, malicious or vengeful slap, just an authoritative slap to display who was in charge and who was to submit. Kuvarakh was stunned as she went on.
"Now be silent. We will have you presentable for your Talvis, Lorogon, before long. He will be willing to wait, but you must submit to an examination. We must be sure that ghoulish thing did not soil you. Lorogon is a good man, he will understand the trauma you are suffering. Any woman would be trying to blank such a terrible memory from her mind. But you must not lose your focus on your obligation. You will bear him strong sons and he will keep you from harm."
Apprehension grew to dread as Kuvarakh listened to her remarks. His recollection of his teacher, Kalagin's, definition of the word "Talvis" hiked his anxiety up a notch. The additions of "examination" and "soil" made him cringe with humiliated anticipation. But when Ti'sali mentioned the 'obligation to bear strong sons' his female body rose nearly of its own accord and backed in horror towards the door.
"Venalla! Get back here at once! You are not nearly ready to meet your Talvis!" Ti'sali stormed. She whipped a finger towards one of the girls and whisked it back at the door. "Stop her! She must not leave yet!" Even before she spoke the second word, the targeted girl was on her feet moving to block Kuvarakh/Venalla from escaping.
Kuvarakh stumbled, his control of the body far from complete. Ti'sali's look turned to despair as she misunderstood Kuvarakh's clumsiness, thinking it to stem from soreness and inner bruising. Her hands flung to her mouth and burst into tears. "Oh Mother! No! She has been defiled! How will we tell Lorogon?"
Kuvarakh, in the meantime, had again lost track of the significance of being in a slim woman's body. He anticipated an easy bump to shrug the intervening girl aside and plunge through the door. Instead, the girl easily applied an upper body hold on him and wrenched him back onto the bed where several girls converged on him, holding him down as Ti'sali moved to examine his female area for signs of violation.
Kuvarakh's spirit went numb as the examination proceeded. He mentally detached himself, unable to deal with the embarrassment. At about the same time that a measure of maturity returned to him and he realized he was being overly sensitive to something he was going to have to be dealing with daily now, Ti'sali straightened, her face dark with anger.
"What is the matter with you? There is no sign of defilement at all. No scratches, no seed, nothing! What? Did you think Lorogon expects you to be a virgin? He is not a small man. He would not expect a virgin to accommodate him! There are more than a few others that would be eager to lie with him. You're being foolish!" She checked a chart, "Nor are you about to start your private time. What troubles you so? Did that dead, decaying body wash ashore while you were relaxing? Did it really upset you this much?"
Kuvarakh fought the girls off, who backed away from him at a nod from Ti'sali. He sat up and blurted out, "I told you but you did not listen! I am not this Venalla you think I am. I am Kuvarakh and I am a Nuit. Ill fortune befell me and I suddenly found myself in need of a body. Normally I am a MAN, damn it, but this was the only body available. I had thought The Lady of Shadows willed it, so I took it. I meant no deception, but it is a disorienting process and I found myself already here... and I..."
He stopped, again seeing that she was not listening. Her face nearly drained of all color and she backed away towards the door, protectively shooing the other girls through ahead of her. "You... you... MURDERED HER! YOU FIEND! YOU MONSTER!"
The ramifications of this misunderstanding stunned Kuvarakh to immobility. He saw the women slip through the door and realized that he needed to get out. "NO! I DIDN'T KILL HER! SHE WAS ALREADY DEAD!" he called in desperation as he reached the door, only to have it slam in his face. Even as he gripped the knob, he heard the sliding of the lock and realized he was trapped.
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
-
Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
- Location: Alvadas
- Race: Nuit
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
- Medals: 3
-
-
Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 27th, 2012, 6:34 am
He had two options: Stay until his "husband" arrived and try to explain to him, which didn't sound any more promising than explaining to Ti'sali had been, or try to escape. He was not about to lay back and let this Lorogon make futile attempts to conceive, and hope he gave up eventually. It was not that this body was not originally... capable of this, but... "Aaaugh..." he gurgled in cringing revulsion. he could not put it into words, even in his own mind. No, escape was the only option. That or death.
He examined the door. The knob was just for pulling. There was no fancy mechanism inside, like he had seen on some of the high-end homes in Zeltiva. He had hoped to try to pick it with hair pins and one of the thin fingernail files he saw on the vanity.
So the slide lock on the other side was the only thing keeping him in here. Unfortunately, there was no way to reach it. He had none of the items in his bags, which were back in his room at Atri's Place, though he didn't really think there was anything there that could help either. The door was fitted too tightly in the jamb. There was no gap to slip a blade through to inch the slide from its holding position.
He thought perhaps there was a wire behind the mirror. it would not be being used right now, with the mirror attached to the back of the vanity unit the way it was, but they were usually attached anyway, for versatility. He slid the unit away from the wall and started wrenching on the wire loop to free it from the stout tack anchoring it to the frame.
There was a loud pop and a thunk, followed by a crashing tinkle of glass, as the mirror came loose and broke on the floor. 'Good preachin' Gods!' he cursed to himself as he freed the wire and hurried around the vanity, grabbing a chair to stand on. His intent was to slip the wire over the top of the door and try to catch it on the slide. It was unlikely to succeed, but he could think of no other solution.
Panic sped his feet as he hit the glass shards, forgotten on the floor. He fell, cutting his hand. He started at the blood. 'Hmmm...' He did not know why he had not thought to perform any of the embalming-related details of draining the blood and sterilizing the cavity before performing the ritual, though he did not know how or where he'd have managed it at the time. So even though there was no heart beating, there was still pressure.
He grabbed two shards of glass and sat on the bed. He grit his teeth as he held one piece to see what he was doing, and used the other to cut his jugular vein and slit lengthwise up the veins in his wrists. He used what he knew of the embalming process of working the blood from fresh cadavers to force blood down and out of his wrists. He then propped himself, hips up and head down, and worked blood from the opening in his neck. He thought of slicing open the femoral artery in the inner thing as well, but heard angry voices approaching.
He smeared the blood around on the blankets and lay down, thankful that there was no heartbeat or exhausted breathing to give the charade away. He was legitimately dizzy, from the small amount of Nuit ichor in the lost blood, but with some rest, he could recover from that. He lay and stared at the ceiling as the slide hissed and the door burst open.
Screaming, shouting pandemonium ensued as people slammed their heads against his chest to listen for a heartbeat and others pulled them away to make their own effort. They were cries exposing how the mirror had been used and to watch where you stepped. Others were crying too hard to distinguish their words. There were male shouts that were mostly in Tukant. They had a tone and demeanor more consistent with accusations and Kuvarakh stifled a cringe of regret for the trouble some of these people were likely to suffer.
'If they would have listened to me...' he rationalized as the mood of the room fell from panicked despair to resigned sadness. He was lifted and placed on a bier. There were comments he managed to translate into something relating to 'emotional trauma' and 'the situation... rescued from' and 'too much' and 'Zith... rape'
Kuvarakh got a genuine pang of pity for this poor girl at what these comments appeared to indicate. He wished he could have saved her somehow and hoped that somehow, somewhere, she understood what he was doing and why, and that she would forgive him using her body in conjunction with this deception.
He reminded himself, in his own emotional defense, that he had not killed her and knew nothing of any of her life's troubles as she apparently drowned herself. He knew he was not telling himself some convenient lie to spare himself some undeserved guilt, but still, he was troubled to recall that he had at first thought her to be one of the aquatic races from the Blue Gem.
'Could I have saved her? Was there some way I could have known? Was I too caught up in my o-...' his thoughts were interrupted by a new shout of alarm. It turned out to be Ti'sali as she alerted everyone to be on guard of Venalla. Kuvarakh prayed this would not go the direction he feared, but as soon as someone mentioned tearfully that Venalla was clearly dead, Ti'sali courageously called out that it was a trick.
"It is a DEMON! Hiding in her body! He already admitted it, He murdered her and invaded her body! Burn the body NOW! AT ONCE!"
'Damn it...'
He examined the door. The knob was just for pulling. There was no fancy mechanism inside, like he had seen on some of the high-end homes in Zeltiva. He had hoped to try to pick it with hair pins and one of the thin fingernail files he saw on the vanity.
So the slide lock on the other side was the only thing keeping him in here. Unfortunately, there was no way to reach it. He had none of the items in his bags, which were back in his room at Atri's Place, though he didn't really think there was anything there that could help either. The door was fitted too tightly in the jamb. There was no gap to slip a blade through to inch the slide from its holding position.
He thought perhaps there was a wire behind the mirror. it would not be being used right now, with the mirror attached to the back of the vanity unit the way it was, but they were usually attached anyway, for versatility. He slid the unit away from the wall and started wrenching on the wire loop to free it from the stout tack anchoring it to the frame.
There was a loud pop and a thunk, followed by a crashing tinkle of glass, as the mirror came loose and broke on the floor. 'Good preachin' Gods!' he cursed to himself as he freed the wire and hurried around the vanity, grabbing a chair to stand on. His intent was to slip the wire over the top of the door and try to catch it on the slide. It was unlikely to succeed, but he could think of no other solution.
Panic sped his feet as he hit the glass shards, forgotten on the floor. He fell, cutting his hand. He started at the blood. 'Hmmm...' He did not know why he had not thought to perform any of the embalming-related details of draining the blood and sterilizing the cavity before performing the ritual, though he did not know how or where he'd have managed it at the time. So even though there was no heart beating, there was still pressure.
He grabbed two shards of glass and sat on the bed. He grit his teeth as he held one piece to see what he was doing, and used the other to cut his jugular vein and slit lengthwise up the veins in his wrists. He used what he knew of the embalming process of working the blood from fresh cadavers to force blood down and out of his wrists. He then propped himself, hips up and head down, and worked blood from the opening in his neck. He thought of slicing open the femoral artery in the inner thing as well, but heard angry voices approaching.
He smeared the blood around on the blankets and lay down, thankful that there was no heartbeat or exhausted breathing to give the charade away. He was legitimately dizzy, from the small amount of Nuit ichor in the lost blood, but with some rest, he could recover from that. He lay and stared at the ceiling as the slide hissed and the door burst open.
Screaming, shouting pandemonium ensued as people slammed their heads against his chest to listen for a heartbeat and others pulled them away to make their own effort. They were cries exposing how the mirror had been used and to watch where you stepped. Others were crying too hard to distinguish their words. There were male shouts that were mostly in Tukant. They had a tone and demeanor more consistent with accusations and Kuvarakh stifled a cringe of regret for the trouble some of these people were likely to suffer.
'If they would have listened to me...' he rationalized as the mood of the room fell from panicked despair to resigned sadness. He was lifted and placed on a bier. There were comments he managed to translate into something relating to 'emotional trauma' and 'the situation... rescued from' and 'too much' and 'Zith... rape'
Kuvarakh got a genuine pang of pity for this poor girl at what these comments appeared to indicate. He wished he could have saved her somehow and hoped that somehow, somewhere, she understood what he was doing and why, and that she would forgive him using her body in conjunction with this deception.
He reminded himself, in his own emotional defense, that he had not killed her and knew nothing of any of her life's troubles as she apparently drowned herself. He knew he was not telling himself some convenient lie to spare himself some undeserved guilt, but still, he was troubled to recall that he had at first thought her to be one of the aquatic races from the Blue Gem.
'Could I have saved her? Was there some way I could have known? Was I too caught up in my o-...' his thoughts were interrupted by a new shout of alarm. It turned out to be Ti'sali as she alerted everyone to be on guard of Venalla. Kuvarakh prayed this would not go the direction he feared, but as soon as someone mentioned tearfully that Venalla was clearly dead, Ti'sali courageously called out that it was a trick.
"It is a DEMON! Hiding in her body! He already admitted it, He murdered her and invaded her body! Burn the body NOW! AT ONCE!"
'Damn it...'
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
-
Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
- Location: Alvadas
- Race: Nuit
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
- Medals: 3
-
-
Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 28th, 2012, 3:46 am
The whole scene blossomed in recoiling fear as Kuvarakh rose suddenly, still smeared with blood, the pallet bearers dropping the bier and falling back with gasps. Each concentric ring of onlookers quailed into the one behind them until the entire crowd encircled an empty oblong space containing Kuvarakh and the cushions he had landed on when the bier spilled him sideways.
"I DIDN'T MURDER ANYONE!" he roared, or rather, squealed. "AND I'M NOT A PETCHING DEMON!" He stood up from the cushions, the female body wobbling slightly. Ti'sali stormed forward, her face a thundercloud.
"Neither are you Venalla. Yet you wear her body! A woman promised. And now dead. One of the honored Nakivak, giving of herself to strengthen the culture that rescued her from slavery!"
"THIS IS slavery! And I'm ALREADY dead! Have you, none of you, NEVER heard of a Nuit?" Kuvarakh's look insisted that someone acknowledge.
A voice tore the silence into bloody strips, deep with pain and condemnation. "I have..." it rumbled. "...Ever hungry violators of those that wish to rest in peace. Bloodless parasites, preying on the trust of a society on the edge of extinction." An akalak male stood in the doorway, every facet of his presence radiating fury. "You would usurp the promised vessel of my sons' birth for a few seasons' worth of your postponed decay."
Kuvarakh turned to the man, instinctively knowing it to be Lorogon. "You think I don't know the loss of a child? The heart crushing emptiness of seeing your family torn from you forever?" Tears glistened in his female eyes as his growing anguish pushed him to step slowly towards his accuser. "I would never... NEVER ...do such a thing to another! My wife died in childbirth and my daughter was murdered!"
Fury of his own seized him and his female voice cracked with near madness. "I tell you now!" he spun, his finger addressing everyone in the room. "ALL of you! This man's loss can not be contained by words. No one knows this better than I. But even his very MIND cannot contain MY loss." Kuvarakh spun back to face Lorogon. "Your "promised vessel" can be replaced. This substitution will not deprive you of sons not yet conceived. Your sons can still be born! You will not suffer years of memory with a child already loved for years and then slain!"
Lorogon shook with rage. "You dare to speak to me of memories suffered while I look into the face of my Venalla and know that it now puts its beauty on such as you? You say your wife died? In childbirth? Then you have the memory of a love that gave herself to build your family! What if your wife disappeared instead? What if you found her inhabited by a 'flesh thief?" He said the words with loathing.
"What if your choice was to believe either that she was murdered by this thief, or that she slew herself to BE FREE OF HER LIFE WITH YOU? WHICH WOULD YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE?" Flecks of spit and sweat flew from his face to land on Kuvarakh's stunned face. His mouth operated randomly, but he could think of nothing to say. He had not considered this aspect of pain.
"I... do not know which I would choose." he began quietly, "Perhaps I would cling to anger, to ease the pain. But you must believe me. I did not kill her. She drowned and I found her body floating nearby as I swam. At first I thought her one of the aquatic races, as she was near to the Blue Gem. Consider, please, that it is truly not far from this place, this ...Godiva's."
Lorogon looked right into his eyes. Kuvarakh thought for a moment of trying hypnosis, but decided it would be dishonorable. He owed it to this man to let matters run their course without tampering. "Did she jump of her own accord? Did she slip and fall?" The akalak's voice was quiet now, but a volcano seethed beneath the surface.
"Did she hit her head? Did she struggle to reach the surface?" his eyes burned with intensity. "You say you thought her one of the denizens of the Blue Gem... Was that because she was moving still when you first saw her?"
Kuvarakh froze, eyes wide with horror, 'Had she been moving?' he had not paid enough attention to be sure.
Lorogon saw the reaction and took a step forward, his hands clenching into claws for choking. "Were her motions so smooth? Did she seem to belong in the water? Did you even care to know?" his voice lowered, threateningly, a hiss of barely restrained violence. "Or did you hope she was drowning, and did nothing so you could hide behind your filthy half-truth that YOU DID NOT KILL HER!"
He exploded into attack, his hands wrapping around Kuvarakh's slender, delicate, female neck with deadly force. Kuvarakh did not fight. Screams and shouts exploded in his ears as he was shaken by the enraged hands and buffeted by bodies closing to stop them. Tears streamed from his lovely female eyes. Just as he thought his neck was about to be snapped, the grip slowly began to abate and he was soon dropped to his knees.
He stayed there, kneeling, crying himself in empathy for the pain this man was feeling, but also, again, from shame that perhaps he might have done something to save Venalla. He choked off the tears and struggled to his feet. "I am truly... truly sorry for whatever I might have done and failed to do... or what I might have prevented, but unknowingly allowed..." He wiped his eyes and swallowed hard. "But I would prefer that I die if it gives you the surety that I am a man of honor who meant no harm, than that I should live, but be thought of as a craven and a liar... and an abomination."
Lorogon raised his eyes slowly, "Because of you, I will never know the truth." Lorogon's eyes strayed to the silver bracelet on Kuvarakh's female wrist. "You wear my Udan, thief. You are obliged to provide atonement for my honor." his eyes were icy orbs, void of forgiveness. "I will not kill you, thief. But I will have satisfaction from you if you would have me think of you as a... man... with honor." He said the word with an odd inflection.
Uncertain salvation hovered within his grasp, and Kuvarakh's hopes rose. "What would you have me do?"
The akalak stood straight, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowed with resolve. "Nothing that any man of our culture will not have accomplished long since. Bring me the proof of your passage to manhood. Bring me the head of a Glassbeak."
"I DIDN'T MURDER ANYONE!" he roared, or rather, squealed. "AND I'M NOT A PETCHING DEMON!" He stood up from the cushions, the female body wobbling slightly. Ti'sali stormed forward, her face a thundercloud.
"Neither are you Venalla. Yet you wear her body! A woman promised. And now dead. One of the honored Nakivak, giving of herself to strengthen the culture that rescued her from slavery!"
"THIS IS slavery! And I'm ALREADY dead! Have you, none of you, NEVER heard of a Nuit?" Kuvarakh's look insisted that someone acknowledge.
A voice tore the silence into bloody strips, deep with pain and condemnation. "I have..." it rumbled. "...Ever hungry violators of those that wish to rest in peace. Bloodless parasites, preying on the trust of a society on the edge of extinction." An akalak male stood in the doorway, every facet of his presence radiating fury. "You would usurp the promised vessel of my sons' birth for a few seasons' worth of your postponed decay."
Kuvarakh turned to the man, instinctively knowing it to be Lorogon. "You think I don't know the loss of a child? The heart crushing emptiness of seeing your family torn from you forever?" Tears glistened in his female eyes as his growing anguish pushed him to step slowly towards his accuser. "I would never... NEVER ...do such a thing to another! My wife died in childbirth and my daughter was murdered!"
Fury of his own seized him and his female voice cracked with near madness. "I tell you now!" he spun, his finger addressing everyone in the room. "ALL of you! This man's loss can not be contained by words. No one knows this better than I. But even his very MIND cannot contain MY loss." Kuvarakh spun back to face Lorogon. "Your "promised vessel" can be replaced. This substitution will not deprive you of sons not yet conceived. Your sons can still be born! You will not suffer years of memory with a child already loved for years and then slain!"
Lorogon shook with rage. "You dare to speak to me of memories suffered while I look into the face of my Venalla and know that it now puts its beauty on such as you? You say your wife died? In childbirth? Then you have the memory of a love that gave herself to build your family! What if your wife disappeared instead? What if you found her inhabited by a 'flesh thief?" He said the words with loathing.
"What if your choice was to believe either that she was murdered by this thief, or that she slew herself to BE FREE OF HER LIFE WITH YOU? WHICH WOULD YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE?" Flecks of spit and sweat flew from his face to land on Kuvarakh's stunned face. His mouth operated randomly, but he could think of nothing to say. He had not considered this aspect of pain.
"I... do not know which I would choose." he began quietly, "Perhaps I would cling to anger, to ease the pain. But you must believe me. I did not kill her. She drowned and I found her body floating nearby as I swam. At first I thought her one of the aquatic races, as she was near to the Blue Gem. Consider, please, that it is truly not far from this place, this ...Godiva's."
Lorogon looked right into his eyes. Kuvarakh thought for a moment of trying hypnosis, but decided it would be dishonorable. He owed it to this man to let matters run their course without tampering. "Did she jump of her own accord? Did she slip and fall?" The akalak's voice was quiet now, but a volcano seethed beneath the surface.
"Did she hit her head? Did she struggle to reach the surface?" his eyes burned with intensity. "You say you thought her one of the denizens of the Blue Gem... Was that because she was moving still when you first saw her?"
Kuvarakh froze, eyes wide with horror, 'Had she been moving?' he had not paid enough attention to be sure.
Lorogon saw the reaction and took a step forward, his hands clenching into claws for choking. "Were her motions so smooth? Did she seem to belong in the water? Did you even care to know?" his voice lowered, threateningly, a hiss of barely restrained violence. "Or did you hope she was drowning, and did nothing so you could hide behind your filthy half-truth that YOU DID NOT KILL HER!"
He exploded into attack, his hands wrapping around Kuvarakh's slender, delicate, female neck with deadly force. Kuvarakh did not fight. Screams and shouts exploded in his ears as he was shaken by the enraged hands and buffeted by bodies closing to stop them. Tears streamed from his lovely female eyes. Just as he thought his neck was about to be snapped, the grip slowly began to abate and he was soon dropped to his knees.
He stayed there, kneeling, crying himself in empathy for the pain this man was feeling, but also, again, from shame that perhaps he might have done something to save Venalla. He choked off the tears and struggled to his feet. "I am truly... truly sorry for whatever I might have done and failed to do... or what I might have prevented, but unknowingly allowed..." He wiped his eyes and swallowed hard. "But I would prefer that I die if it gives you the surety that I am a man of honor who meant no harm, than that I should live, but be thought of as a craven and a liar... and an abomination."
Lorogon raised his eyes slowly, "Because of you, I will never know the truth." Lorogon's eyes strayed to the silver bracelet on Kuvarakh's female wrist. "You wear my Udan, thief. You are obliged to provide atonement for my honor." his eyes were icy orbs, void of forgiveness. "I will not kill you, thief. But I will have satisfaction from you if you would have me think of you as a... man... with honor." He said the word with an odd inflection.
Uncertain salvation hovered within his grasp, and Kuvarakh's hopes rose. "What would you have me do?"
The akalak stood straight, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowed with resolve. "Nothing that any man of our culture will not have accomplished long since. Bring me the proof of your passage to manhood. Bring me the head of a Glassbeak."
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
-
Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
- Location: Alvadas
- Race: Nuit
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
- Medals: 3
-
-
Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 29th, 2012, 5:59 am
Stunned silence reigned for a moment, then there was an uproar. Some called for Lorogon to repeat himself, though they all had heard him plainly. Some cheered the harsh justice it entailed. Some protested the outrageous departure from tradition. Still others called for mercy, expressing their dismay over the certainty of Venalla's death.
Kuvarakh himself stood quietly, his female body a quiet calm amidst the turmoil. He didn't even really know what a 'Glassbeak' was, but assumed it be some sort of monstrous bird creature, judging by the "beak" in the name. He shook his head slowly at how irrelevant his own thought on the proposal was to everyone else. He wondered how long this angry debate would go on before enough of a majority came to terms to outvote the rest on a course of action.
He noticed that Lorogon, also, was not disposed to speak further. He had made his decision and did not seem to care what others thought of it. 'Let them claim to outvote me. I will not retract my demand.' his stony expression said. Kuvarakh identified with him more than any other in the room, even though the man was basically insisting on what amounted to an indirect execution. Only Lorogon and himself really had any right to debate this issue.
He was heartsick over what the man was going through, and knew that his occupation of the woman's body was salt in the emotional wound. But he knew also that he did not deserve execution. The woman was dead and he had not caused it. But her body had saved his life. If a boy was drowning and Venalla had jumped in to save him, and perished in doing so, would Lorogon subsequently kill the boy for being the reason she jumped. He knew it was not so. It was all because he was an outsider, he was not accepted.
'...Not accepted...' something stuck in his mind about the phrase. This was why he had come here, this was why he was learning the Tukant language. He knew he did not HAVE to speak Tukant to visit the Night Tower, but he had wanted to make a display of his willingness to do something extra out of deference and reverence for Akajia.
His eyes popped wide and his jaw dropped. 'Of course! This is the task I must perform to gain her acceptance! What a fool I was to think merely learning the language would place me on the same level of acceptance with her own "children", the Akalak.' It all made sense to him now. She recognized his devotion, but would not insult her own people by granting him a boon worthy only of one of them. He needed to become one of them! She was showing him the way! He had her favor! She would see him through this. He said as much to the din.
A second stunned silence gripped the room. 'It is odd', he thought, 'how there was so much noise I could not hear myself speak, yet everyone heard me nonetheless.' A single voice asked him in disbelief to repeat himself as Lorogon stared in wide eyed silence.
"I said, I accept. I will do it. I will bring Lorogon this 'glassbeak' head and he will count himself satisfied. Will this then suffice?" Many were stunned into prolonged silence, but still many spoke out against the recklessness of it, calling on Lorogon to rescind his demand. Or scolding Kuvarakh as hasty to the point of madness. Kuvarakh was pleased to see that many who had spoken against him before, now called on him to rein in his guilt, that it was not truly his fault and that the poor girl was dead, and not to follow blindly out of an honor that should not bind him.
Kuvarakh whirled in deliberate dramatic fashion, "I do not do it only from guilt!" he shouted, "though I have a measure to atone for. It is possible, had I not been so fixed upon my own issues, that I might have realized something was wrong when I saw the girl in the water. I did not kill her, no, but neither did I save her. And for that failure I incur a debt."
Many faces gave rise to looks of respect where there had previously been only disgust. But still even among the friendlier expressions there was sad resignation to his impending death. He shook his head with resolve at these faces, "I do it also out of faith! I came here seeking acceptance. So that I might have cause to feel myself worthy to seek a boon of The Lady of Shadows. She now shows me the way! How can I fear failure when her cause guides me? How could I come crawling before her glory clad in the rags of cowardice? How could I seek her favor when I cringe behind words of good intent never backed up by deeds?"
Even Lorogon's face softened. He gave just a barely perceptible nod. Kuvarakh paused for a moment, and lifted his head. "And if it BE her will that I die, then I accept that she wishes me to join my wife and daughter."
There was a murmuring, accompanied by some smiles, some tears and some shaken heads. A measure of reality returned to Kuvarakh's thoughts and he looked around a moment. "Now... uh... can someone tell me something about these 'glassbeaks'?"
Kuvarakh himself stood quietly, his female body a quiet calm amidst the turmoil. He didn't even really know what a 'Glassbeak' was, but assumed it be some sort of monstrous bird creature, judging by the "beak" in the name. He shook his head slowly at how irrelevant his own thought on the proposal was to everyone else. He wondered how long this angry debate would go on before enough of a majority came to terms to outvote the rest on a course of action.
He noticed that Lorogon, also, was not disposed to speak further. He had made his decision and did not seem to care what others thought of it. 'Let them claim to outvote me. I will not retract my demand.' his stony expression said. Kuvarakh identified with him more than any other in the room, even though the man was basically insisting on what amounted to an indirect execution. Only Lorogon and himself really had any right to debate this issue.
He was heartsick over what the man was going through, and knew that his occupation of the woman's body was salt in the emotional wound. But he knew also that he did not deserve execution. The woman was dead and he had not caused it. But her body had saved his life. If a boy was drowning and Venalla had jumped in to save him, and perished in doing so, would Lorogon subsequently kill the boy for being the reason she jumped. He knew it was not so. It was all because he was an outsider, he was not accepted.
'...Not accepted...' something stuck in his mind about the phrase. This was why he had come here, this was why he was learning the Tukant language. He knew he did not HAVE to speak Tukant to visit the Night Tower, but he had wanted to make a display of his willingness to do something extra out of deference and reverence for Akajia.
His eyes popped wide and his jaw dropped. 'Of course! This is the task I must perform to gain her acceptance! What a fool I was to think merely learning the language would place me on the same level of acceptance with her own "children", the Akalak.' It all made sense to him now. She recognized his devotion, but would not insult her own people by granting him a boon worthy only of one of them. He needed to become one of them! She was showing him the way! He had her favor! She would see him through this. He said as much to the din.
A second stunned silence gripped the room. 'It is odd', he thought, 'how there was so much noise I could not hear myself speak, yet everyone heard me nonetheless.' A single voice asked him in disbelief to repeat himself as Lorogon stared in wide eyed silence.
"I said, I accept. I will do it. I will bring Lorogon this 'glassbeak' head and he will count himself satisfied. Will this then suffice?" Many were stunned into prolonged silence, but still many spoke out against the recklessness of it, calling on Lorogon to rescind his demand. Or scolding Kuvarakh as hasty to the point of madness. Kuvarakh was pleased to see that many who had spoken against him before, now called on him to rein in his guilt, that it was not truly his fault and that the poor girl was dead, and not to follow blindly out of an honor that should not bind him.
Kuvarakh whirled in deliberate dramatic fashion, "I do not do it only from guilt!" he shouted, "though I have a measure to atone for. It is possible, had I not been so fixed upon my own issues, that I might have realized something was wrong when I saw the girl in the water. I did not kill her, no, but neither did I save her. And for that failure I incur a debt."
Many faces gave rise to looks of respect where there had previously been only disgust. But still even among the friendlier expressions there was sad resignation to his impending death. He shook his head with resolve at these faces, "I do it also out of faith! I came here seeking acceptance. So that I might have cause to feel myself worthy to seek a boon of The Lady of Shadows. She now shows me the way! How can I fear failure when her cause guides me? How could I come crawling before her glory clad in the rags of cowardice? How could I seek her favor when I cringe behind words of good intent never backed up by deeds?"
Even Lorogon's face softened. He gave just a barely perceptible nod. Kuvarakh paused for a moment, and lifted his head. "And if it BE her will that I die, then I accept that she wishes me to join my wife and daughter."
There was a murmuring, accompanied by some smiles, some tears and some shaken heads. A measure of reality returned to Kuvarakh's thoughts and he looked around a moment. "Now... uh... can someone tell me something about these 'glassbeaks'?"
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
-
Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
- Location: Alvadas
- Race: Nuit
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
- Medals: 3
-
-
Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on November 30th, 2012, 7:04 am
He spent the next week reading and listening to accounts of young akalaks' encounters with the creatures during their Rites of Trial. A sympathetic weapon master agreed to give him what training he could, but by the time the week was up, Kuvarakh had only gotten a normal degree of coordination acclimated to his new body and the training was of negligible benefit. The man wore an expression of encouraged optimism, but behind the facade, he was certain this Nuit would not be bringing his own new female body back, let alone a glassbeak's head.
For his, or her, own part, Kuvarakh also was convinced his martial efforts were pointless, and was only cooperating to show his confidence. He did not know what The Lady of Shadows intended by setting him on this course, but he was sure it was not truly going to come to a life and death, tooth and nail death match with a monster. After all, there was virtually no way he could prevail against such an opponent, so it stood to reason this was not what fate had in store for him.
When he professed his certainty of this, he was always met with the sort of smiles one reserves for a dying relative when one intends to make their last days on Mizahar as pleasant as possible. He knew they did not believe, and he held to the likelihood that this may be the very purpose Akajia had for him. To show the less devoted that faith alone WAS enough, and that The Lady was there for those who believed, despite her aloof bearing.
From atop the cliffs of Riverfall, the Sea of Grass was mostly a green haze. He was given a ride in a cart down to the plains, escorted into the high grass for a mile or so. He was given a spear and a long knife, Not a Lakan, of course, but a weapon one might have described as a thin, short, sword. He accepted these as a show of appreciation, but had a sense that they were not the key to his success on this mission. He was also given a whip, on the basis that it may serve to entangle the legs of the beast. Somehow, this seemed the more important item to him than the others.
He turned to the pair that had accompanied him into the plains, "So, which way do I go? How do I find a glassbeak?"
The two men looked at each other with looks of grim amusement. "Do not worry, just walk, it will find you." The men turned and returned in the direction they had come. They did not look back.
So Kuvarakh walked. He had thought it would be a simple matter of looking for signs indicating water, like places where the grass was greener and taller. There were no such variations to see from his angle, so he decided he would make for any groves of trees that might present themselves, either on the assumption that they would herald the location of water, or to climb for a better view.
After a couple bells, he began to wonder what was up. The attitude in Riverfall had been that he wouldn't last the first bell, yet he hadn't even seen a glassbeak, let alone fought one. Nor had he seen any of the other beasts that were said to populate the Sea of Grass. His experience was that when animals did not appear in the areas that were natural to them, it was because something bigger and meaner had moved in and established a hunting area. Either that or disease.
He had seen no sick, dead or dying creatures, so he did not think it was a case of some plague driving the wildlife away. That left the 'bigger monster' scenario. His imagination began to manufacture bestial constructs of spikes and claws, teeth and scales, venom and ever-growing hunger. Every gust of wind "warned" him of approaching horrors, revealed by the ripples of the grass. That life and death, tooth and nail death match was starting to seem more likely every chime.
Just about the time he was ready to run screaming back the way he'd come, the sun winked and caught his attention. He shaded his eyes and tried to squint into the glare. There was another flash eclipse and a figure appeared in the air. He slowly walked in the direction of the airborne figure. It seemed to be approaching him as well, and soon Kuvarakh made out a winged humanoid. He shouted and waved, assuming it to be some alvina or divine servant come to bring Akajia's blessing and purpose to his eager ears.
Just about the time that he considered how unlikely it was that any servant of Akajia would operate in a bright open sunlit prairie, he also made out the bestial, predatory features of the approaching creature. The fur covered body and tufted joints were embellished by the bat-like wings, clawed extremities and feral screech of hunger. It banked its wings and dove for him.
Kuvarakh turned and ran.
For his, or her, own part, Kuvarakh also was convinced his martial efforts were pointless, and was only cooperating to show his confidence. He did not know what The Lady of Shadows intended by setting him on this course, but he was sure it was not truly going to come to a life and death, tooth and nail death match with a monster. After all, there was virtually no way he could prevail against such an opponent, so it stood to reason this was not what fate had in store for him.
When he professed his certainty of this, he was always met with the sort of smiles one reserves for a dying relative when one intends to make their last days on Mizahar as pleasant as possible. He knew they did not believe, and he held to the likelihood that this may be the very purpose Akajia had for him. To show the less devoted that faith alone WAS enough, and that The Lady was there for those who believed, despite her aloof bearing.
From atop the cliffs of Riverfall, the Sea of Grass was mostly a green haze. He was given a ride in a cart down to the plains, escorted into the high grass for a mile or so. He was given a spear and a long knife, Not a Lakan, of course, but a weapon one might have described as a thin, short, sword. He accepted these as a show of appreciation, but had a sense that they were not the key to his success on this mission. He was also given a whip, on the basis that it may serve to entangle the legs of the beast. Somehow, this seemed the more important item to him than the others.
He turned to the pair that had accompanied him into the plains, "So, which way do I go? How do I find a glassbeak?"
The two men looked at each other with looks of grim amusement. "Do not worry, just walk, it will find you." The men turned and returned in the direction they had come. They did not look back.
So Kuvarakh walked. He had thought it would be a simple matter of looking for signs indicating water, like places where the grass was greener and taller. There were no such variations to see from his angle, so he decided he would make for any groves of trees that might present themselves, either on the assumption that they would herald the location of water, or to climb for a better view.
After a couple bells, he began to wonder what was up. The attitude in Riverfall had been that he wouldn't last the first bell, yet he hadn't even seen a glassbeak, let alone fought one. Nor had he seen any of the other beasts that were said to populate the Sea of Grass. His experience was that when animals did not appear in the areas that were natural to them, it was because something bigger and meaner had moved in and established a hunting area. Either that or disease.
He had seen no sick, dead or dying creatures, so he did not think it was a case of some plague driving the wildlife away. That left the 'bigger monster' scenario. His imagination began to manufacture bestial constructs of spikes and claws, teeth and scales, venom and ever-growing hunger. Every gust of wind "warned" him of approaching horrors, revealed by the ripples of the grass. That life and death, tooth and nail death match was starting to seem more likely every chime.
Just about the time he was ready to run screaming back the way he'd come, the sun winked and caught his attention. He shaded his eyes and tried to squint into the glare. There was another flash eclipse and a figure appeared in the air. He slowly walked in the direction of the airborne figure. It seemed to be approaching him as well, and soon Kuvarakh made out a winged humanoid. He shouted and waved, assuming it to be some alvina or divine servant come to bring Akajia's blessing and purpose to his eager ears.
Just about the time that he considered how unlikely it was that any servant of Akajia would operate in a bright open sunlit prairie, he also made out the bestial, predatory features of the approaching creature. The fur covered body and tufted joints were embellished by the bat-like wings, clawed extremities and feral screech of hunger. It banked its wings and dove for him.
Kuvarakh turned and ran.
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
-
Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
- Location: Alvadas
- Race: Nuit
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
- Medals: 3
-
-
Culture Shock
by Kuvarakh on December 1st, 2012, 3:41 am
Flailing blindly over his shoulder with the spear as he ran served to stymie the Zith's first pass. It hissed in anticipation as it circled around. On the next pass, it dodged to the side and clamped a clawed foot on the shaft of the spear and pulled. Bolstered by the surge of its wings, it lifted Kuvarakh, in his petite woman's body, off his feet. Kuvarakh tried to pull back, but with no leverage, it was just a series of attempted chin-ups as his distance from the ground grew. He let go of the spear and dropped, tumbling on impact to get up and start running again, a slight limp slowing his futile effort.
He pulled the knife and turned, realizing that the shadow of the approaching menace would give advance warning on when to turn and strike. The Zith, however, was familiar with this tactic and used it to lead Kuvarakh into spinning off balance as he tried to track the circling of the shadow. Ultimately, Kuvarakh flopped back into the iron grip of the Zith's clawed hands, the knife wrenched loose and discarded. In sadistic glee, the Zith slapped parallel tracks of lacerations across the pretty face, locked his arms around Kuvarakh's slender torso and launched himself into a steady climb.
Being about as effective with the knife and spear as he had expected, he thought about the whip. His arm was somewhat hindered with the Zith's arms locked around him, but he could still reach it. He wasn't sure what use it would be, but he began flailing it left and right, occasionally landing a stinging lash across bare Zith flesh. The Zith drove its claws into Kuvarakh's belly, hissing at Kuvarakh to stop with the whip. Kuvarakh's well ornamented and polished fingernails were not insignificant in themselves, and he gouged tracks in the Zith's wrist. The Zith shrieked and bit into Kuvarakh's slender shoulder. Kuvarakh had just happened to be lashing the whip overhead and the Zith's lowered head allowed the whip down, to become entangled in one the creature's wings. The Zith decided it was high enough to deliver a fatal fall and let go of the troublesome human.
For an instance, there was weightless hovering. But the whip, caught in the wing, was transformed into a rope swing, bringing a hard, painful wrench to the creature's wing and bringing Kuvarakh crashing into one of its legs. Kuvarakh grabbed on immediately and spun his other arm to wrap the whip around it a couple of times. The flapping of the whipped wing brought the whip bobbing up and down and Kuvarakh timed it to reach with that arm and grab the other leg at the low point. The Zith's one wing was now partially disabled and it began to lose altitude. It tried to kick and scratch and pick at Kuvarakh's hands, but Kuvarakh was equally able to maneuver the legs and yanked furiously on the whip, making the Zith jerk and wobble off balance as it flew. Eventually, the whip came loose, but it was still wrapped around Kuvarakh's arm and he was still able to wrench its legs and upset its balance.
But it was still making progress and this standoff was not going to end in success. Kuvarakh spied a break in the constant green below and noticed a fairly large pool of water. An idea started to grow in his mind, but he couldn't affect the Zith's flight enough to alter its direction. He took a deep breath and held it under pressure, this inner pressure being his way of generating an outflow of djed from his head to instigate an hypnotic impression on the Zith. He felt the anger and frustration filling the creature's thoughts and let a hint of a solution creep in. The thought of a still, drowned woman being easily carried in its claws formed in the Zith's mind and he embraced it, banking to approach the water.
Kuvarakh pulled his invasive touch from the creature's mind. Not knowing if this beast spoke common, but figuring it worth a shot, Kuvarakh kicked and cried out in alarm, jerking and twisting, shouting, "No! NO, NOT THE WATER! I CAN'T SWIM, I'LL DROWN! LET ME GO, YOU MONSTER!" he kept up the fuss all the way down as the creature circled the pool, jerking its feet until Kuvarakh dropped, screaming, into the water.
He pulled the knife and turned, realizing that the shadow of the approaching menace would give advance warning on when to turn and strike. The Zith, however, was familiar with this tactic and used it to lead Kuvarakh into spinning off balance as he tried to track the circling of the shadow. Ultimately, Kuvarakh flopped back into the iron grip of the Zith's clawed hands, the knife wrenched loose and discarded. In sadistic glee, the Zith slapped parallel tracks of lacerations across the pretty face, locked his arms around Kuvarakh's slender torso and launched himself into a steady climb.
Being about as effective with the knife and spear as he had expected, he thought about the whip. His arm was somewhat hindered with the Zith's arms locked around him, but he could still reach it. He wasn't sure what use it would be, but he began flailing it left and right, occasionally landing a stinging lash across bare Zith flesh. The Zith drove its claws into Kuvarakh's belly, hissing at Kuvarakh to stop with the whip. Kuvarakh's well ornamented and polished fingernails were not insignificant in themselves, and he gouged tracks in the Zith's wrist. The Zith shrieked and bit into Kuvarakh's slender shoulder. Kuvarakh had just happened to be lashing the whip overhead and the Zith's lowered head allowed the whip down, to become entangled in one the creature's wings. The Zith decided it was high enough to deliver a fatal fall and let go of the troublesome human.
For an instance, there was weightless hovering. But the whip, caught in the wing, was transformed into a rope swing, bringing a hard, painful wrench to the creature's wing and bringing Kuvarakh crashing into one of its legs. Kuvarakh grabbed on immediately and spun his other arm to wrap the whip around it a couple of times. The flapping of the whipped wing brought the whip bobbing up and down and Kuvarakh timed it to reach with that arm and grab the other leg at the low point. The Zith's one wing was now partially disabled and it began to lose altitude. It tried to kick and scratch and pick at Kuvarakh's hands, but Kuvarakh was equally able to maneuver the legs and yanked furiously on the whip, making the Zith jerk and wobble off balance as it flew. Eventually, the whip came loose, but it was still wrapped around Kuvarakh's arm and he was still able to wrench its legs and upset its balance.
But it was still making progress and this standoff was not going to end in success. Kuvarakh spied a break in the constant green below and noticed a fairly large pool of water. An idea started to grow in his mind, but he couldn't affect the Zith's flight enough to alter its direction. He took a deep breath and held it under pressure, this inner pressure being his way of generating an outflow of djed from his head to instigate an hypnotic impression on the Zith. He felt the anger and frustration filling the creature's thoughts and let a hint of a solution creep in. The thought of a still, drowned woman being easily carried in its claws formed in the Zith's mind and he embraced it, banking to approach the water.
Kuvarakh pulled his invasive touch from the creature's mind. Not knowing if this beast spoke common, but figuring it worth a shot, Kuvarakh kicked and cried out in alarm, jerking and twisting, shouting, "No! NO, NOT THE WATER! I CAN'T SWIM, I'LL DROWN! LET ME GO, YOU MONSTER!" he kept up the fuss all the way down as the creature circled the pool, jerking its feet until Kuvarakh dropped, screaming, into the water.
ALCHEMY.....When evolution is just too slow.
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
CS - Plotnotes - Alvadas Linkmap - Dev Thread - Grading - Architectrix
-
Kuvarakh - ties a rope to a tree and hangs the world
- Posts: 700
- Words: 656536
- Joined roleplay: May 19th, 2012, 8:38 pm
- Location: Alvadas
- Race: Nuit
- Character sheet
- Storyteller secrets
- Scrapbook
- Plotnotes
- Medals: 3
-
-
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