Myri? Who's He?

by **Archailist** on February 28th, 2014, 8:48 pm

29th of Winter, 513.

It was, supposedly, just another day in Nyka. Although, he had to say, there were significantly less people around one of the particular Quarters of Nyka than usual. Not to say that there were any more in the other areas. But specifically around the North Quarter, the streets were mostly empty of both monks and people. He knew this because it was one of the Quarters that he regularly visited, just to have a quick look around and see what was going on. And to perhaps catch a sneaking glance at the monk headquarters, to try and find the training yard. He could always hear them, of course. They never seemed to stop, slamming blades together and yelling at each-other. And he wanted to see - although not just see, he wanted to join them! To learn what they were learning, the ways of becoming a monk, and the ways of mastering the arts of combat as they did. It was surely something to behold - the monks that had probably spent most of their lives training their body to the pinnacle of martial combat.

But he was a commoner. Not even that, he was a visitor. He wouldn't be allowed into the yards - he wasn't even allowed to enter the Headquarters. That wouldn't stop him having a few sneaky peeks though, when he could find the time. Because it was a forbidden place, he just wanted to sneak into it even more. But, he restrained himself. For now. He didn't want to get kicked out of the city, after all. Or worse, beaten up by all of those monks, and then kicked out. He guessed the latter would happen if they found him snooping around in there.

Today, though. There was no ringing of steel, or yelling. There were no monks traveling through the streets, holding piles of weapons to be used and prepared. There were no brightly-coloured citizens the Bloody Hunter - William had disappeared from inside and left the store closed for the day, although he had never left a note depicting why. The Sharp Tongue Pub had gone silent - only a small handful of men and women inside chattered between themselves, and although Alex stood behind the bar, he seemed somewhat more animated than the last time he'd entered. It seemed something was going on that he hadn't been aware of. "Where is everyone?"

Alex only laughed, although he kept throwing glances to the small gatherings that still haunted the pubs tables - almost anxious, or just annoyed. He couldn't tell, he wasn't very good when it came to examining human facial expressions. They changed faster than a Pycon could change his body, and they all had such odd meanings.. it was the reason he hadn't become a human. Or one of the reasons. He just couldn't understand how they worked.. or why anyone would want them to work. Squirrels were better, always."Ahh, you don't know, do you? Today is Myri Burning Day - a very special occasion, especially for those under the Sharp Blade." He didn't know, evidently. He hoped that the name was only symbolic - although, why call it Myri Burning Day? It seemed like quite a long name, and besides, he'd never heard of anyone going by the name of Myri in Nyka. Or anyone that had done any burning, apart from those damnable cultists running around and setting fire to Zeltivan Ships. Oh, wait. Was she the head of all the cultists? Was she their God, or just someone they worshiped? Now, he would love to do some burning on them..

"Myri? Who's that?" Alex only laughed for a while longer, and shook his head before he turned back again.

"Myri is the Goddess-Queen of the Myrians - surely you've heard of them? A savage race in Falyndar, who worship her and kill everything that goes there. She was worshiped as the God of War, over Ruros, and when Ruros descended to meet her, he was tricked by her and she murdered him in cold blood." Seemed that she was pretty bad then.. although, then again, one had to be pretty damn smart to outdo a God. "So, every year, we burn effigies of her, in the hopes of one day finding and burning the real Myri!" Well, that seemed.. sane enough. Though, he still wished that she was the head of the cultists. It would make sense, after all. In fact, he was certain. These Myrians had come all the way from Falyndar (wherever that was in the first place) to try and wreck this horrible city with their evil doings, in the name of this strange person Myri. And now, he had the chance to burn her and do all kinds of nasty things as payback! Perfect!

by **Archailist** on March 9th, 2014, 7:02 pm

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

Seemed Alex was actually waiting for the rest of the few citizens and monks to leave so that he could close down the pub and go to join the rest of the festivities - those few that were inside were from the other three Quarters who cared considerably less for the special occasion. How could they, though, when these blasted Myrian cultists had done so much damage to the entire city? He was sure that he'd seen them around every Quarter, including the Celestial, but he wouldn't delve into Nykan affairs lest he be kicked out of the place that he was coming to enjoy. So, after finding that the celebrations were taking place just outside the North Headquarters, he thanked Alex and set off through the door to join them. Well, why not, he figured? After all, he was supposed to be learning from the monks, and that would most likely include joining in on their annual festivities. And burning Myri. Although burning wasn't enough. He wanted to show how much he hated her, so that the monks would think that he was a hero for doing away with them. Then maybe they wouldn't be so grumpy whenever he delivered them letters, and they wouldn't be so angry when they caught him tripping people up. What? A squirrel needed some entertainment, after all, in this red-brick city of scowling mercenaries.

The best, and fastest way to find the celebrations would be from the roof, evidently. So as soon as the Pycon left the rather deserted pub, he climbed straight up its walls and perched on the edge of the roof to try and spot where the celebrations were gathering. He couldn't find them anywhere... but, he could hear them. Gods, he didn't even know how he'd missed it before.. it was like a freak storm of cheering and clamouring all in one place, combined with the unmistakeable scent of burning. So, he followed his nose, and began hopping from one rooftop to the next - not out of real necessity, just out of convenience since he could find the scent faster from above.

He hopped straight across the nearest roofs, climbing higher and higher whenever possible - not to mention falling down again when he couldn't find any better perches. And soon, he was actually stood on the roof of the North Headquarters.. and just below, he could see them all. Hundreds of people dressed in the brightest, most outrageous clothing he'd ever seen, all cheering, throwing fists in the air and laughing as effigies surrounded them in droves, some hung in hangmans nooses from wooden poles and others burning on the end of sticks like torches. Some of the burly monks, that stood out like sore, yellow bandaged thumbs amongst the myriad of strange colours and fashions, had formed queues to come over to other dolls depicting a woman with black hair and a comical smile stitched on, and either punch them, or burn them, or do something else quite horrible. He could even see a few visitors, neither dressed in the usual strange blend of bright clothing or the monotonous holy robes in the crowds, taking time to share a laugh and a joke.

It was almost funny, really, to see them all united by something that they could all hate and deface together. The image of Myri was everywhere, and in every one, she seemed to be suffering a different way. Well, he wasn't about to be left out, even if there was a massive crowd of people gathered.. especially because from his perching spot high above, looking down on them all, he could already spot a particular monk that he remembered fondly - it was Eric Grandbow again, cheering alongside older monks.

"ERIC!" he tried to call over the droves of people, although their cheering melted his words - the boy didn't even turn around. Petch. He tried to hop down and get a little closer, but this was the courtyard spanning out over the front of the headquarters - he couldn't see any other adjacent buildings that didn't have crowds of Nykans hanging about beneath. To try and cross would be a death-trap.. but he couldn't stay up there either. So he slowly eased himself down from the ledge of the roof, hanging on with both of his paws and trying to find a purchase with his feet - the stone was relatively well-cared and finding gaps in it would be too hard to go down head-first, so he'd have to go down like the humans did when he'd seen them trying to climb around. But that meant he'd be blind all the way down.. petching petch. "ERIIIIC!"

by **Archailist** on March 23rd, 2014, 7:23 pm

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

Finally, the boy-squire turned. Along with several other men in the immediate area and a few elsewhere. They looked away though, and Eric did not. Thank goodness - he'd been spotted. Waving his small arms, he tried to gesture to the farthest corner of the courtyard, but his stubby arms weren't enough. Eric wasn't moving. That meant that he'd have to find a way there - except, going down was a suicide mission. He'd have to find another way - and the first that came to mind would be using the heads. Only, there was too much fire, too dangerous. Even a small movement and it's certain death. It's fine if there's a small crowd but this was a huge celebration.

He'd have to make his way around the entire courtyard. And so, with a sigh, he did. Hopping down from the rooftop edge to a neighboring building, crossing a wall and a narrow alley on the way, he begun to clear out a path through the rooftops and around the right side of the courtyard, to see if he could find a way to get close to Eric. The boy wasn't making any progress though, not helping at all. Even if he managed to get half-way around the entire courtyard, there would still be the matter of getting close enough to talk. And close enough for Eric to even hear the squirrel, over all the cheering, shouting and swearing from all the Nykans that were.. doing disgraceful things to effigies. Ripping them apart, stabbing them, slashing them, even tearing into them with their bare hands and teeth. Most of all, though - burning. Burning everywhere, on the end of sticks or hanging from chains in little cages. Everywhere he looked there was fire.

Across another roof, up one side and down the other, and a short leap across to the next, and he was edging closer. He shouldn't have been worried for fire - the buildings were all made of the same red stone, so at least that wouldn't spread. And they were only burning straw after all - what harm could come from that?

He got his answer when he looked around. Smoke. Plenty of smoke, everywhere. Even in an open place like the courtyard, everywhere stank of smoke.. and as he drew closer, and actually made it around the ridiculously large gathering, he could hear it too. People coughing, a few wheezing amongst the loud cheers. Oh, if they weren't going to feel this in the morning. But for now, they'd feel his feet on their head. He had to find some way to get to Eric, after all. The best way would be to hop over a few heads. Of course, there were some loud yells following shortly afterwards, and shaking of fists, but they were drowned as well under yells of joy and the swinging of Myri effigies badly slashed and beaten. And before they could even think of following, he'd already landed on Eric's shoulder.

"This is mad! Why are there so many people here?" he yelled as loudly as possible, but the boy was visibly straining even then to hear what was going on, and ended up laughing rather inaudibly.

"Everyone comes for Myri Burning Day! It's always an occasion of fun!" was yelled back.

by **Archailist** on April 13th, 2014, 12:49 pm

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

It was nothing short of a sheer Nykan miracle that all of the crowd managed to fit into such a small courtyard - there was chanting, dancing, everything. But everywhere he looked, they were doing something to these horrible little effigies. Some were dancing on top of them, as if they were dancing on her very graves. The chanting went along the lines of 'Burn Burn Burn!'. It wasn't difficult to join them and get into the spirit of Myri Burning Day, because even Eric was soon chanting along and punching the air whenever another straw mannequin burst into bright flames and slowly began to melt away.

The squirrel was getting into it too. How could he not? His perch was busy jumping up and down in the air, and the atmosphere was thick with smoke and cheering. It was like riding wave after wave of shaved heads, rising and falling in unison to watch the bobbing, burning little puffs of straw. Intoxicating. So engulfed in the sheer excitement of it all, Arch barely noticed that they were moving until the crowds had parted a small gap, inside which an orderly line had formed, which they were now a part of. "What's this?" He still had to yell because another cheer rose.. centered around the front of the queue. Where someone had just thrown a rather firm punch into what looked to be a large sack, stuffed full of straw, with a funny face scribbled over the front. A Myri punching-bag.

"What do you mean? This is the fun part!" As the crowd moved forwards, each monk in the line got their turn to punch, kick, or basically beat up the punching bag that was supposed to be Myri. Some took their time, others came in fast and left faster. Some of the crowds filed in behind - and he could even see a few of the monks had rejoined the line after having their turn. "Everyone really hates Myri.." Eric sounded almost as surprised as the squirrel was. A quick glance over the shoulder confirmed it.. and he'd thought the monk-boy knew more about the city than he. Turned out that even the most experienced monks could be surprised by the people of Nyka - or Nyka itself, he should have said. Who knew what happened 90% of the time in this city, filled with fanatic lunatics that called themselves religious paragons?

The queue moved slowly on, for chimes upon chimes, until they were reaching the front of the line - only a few others before them. The air still howled with cheers and shouts as the punching bag was filled with holes - mostly from punches, some from everyday objects used as weapons to beat the dummy to dust - ladles and other culinary tools, hammers and even some crates picked up from nearby. It was funny in one way, watching these figures made of straw and other packing material being beaten so much that their stuffing soon fell out of the seams and many of the monks begun hooting and howling - even chanting rhythmically in voices so loud that he couldn't make out the individual lyrics. Actually, it was just plain funny. It was good that everyone had finally drawn themselves out of that characteristic scowl of the Nykan community, their grumpy faces suddenly happy and smiling, cheering and clapping hands on one-anothers backs.

Suddenly, it was as if Nyka had a soul again. A close-knit community that went beyond all the yelling. Monks treated each-other like a family, congratulating a particularly humiliating deed done to a particularly horrible effigy, and all sharing laughs and jokes at Myri's expense. The community had come together through a common hatred of a singular foe. And he soon found himself laughing and boasting alongside them - the atmosphere was contagious.

For all the rest of the seasons that went between every Myri day, it seemed as though the monks would never open up - they would always remain cold, and hostile and mean. But for this one day, the monks let out their true party animal.. and goodness, it was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. Why didn't they have a Myri Burning Day more often?!

by **Archailist** on June 10th, 2014, 7:21 pm

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

The inevitable came too soon. The blonde woman dressed in strange, tight blue clothes before them had her go - slamming and kicking into monk as much as she physically could. Something that rather shocked the squirrel, given the ferocity that she went with. The entire thing was pretty battered and bruised by now, with plenty of holes poked around the head and the torso. And some of the other areas as well. For Eric's turn, the squirrel hopped down off his shoulder and watched as the boy-monk raised his fists and began to repeatedly jab the dummy with both fists, one after another. It was as if he treated it like a real boxing match, slamming over and over into it until there were small clouds of dust gathering behind it. He was about ready to hop back onto the shoulder when the older monks that had circled around the dummy to watch, and occasionally throw insults or encouragement, looked down at the squirrel expectantly. "Go on, squirrel, it's your turn now." Archailist was aghast - he didn't know what Myri had ever done to really deserve such hatred but after watching all that had gone on that day, the squirrel wasn't sure if he wanted to get involved himself.

But the monks weren't taking a no for an answer. This was Myri Burning Day, after all. The one day that these monks, along with the rest of the insane community that built this strange city, stopped behaving like a bunch of fun-hating freaks, and started actually acting human - if anything, they acted juvenile. Beginning a chant that soon swept around most of the crowd, including the line stretching out behind the squirrel and Eric. Not the one directly behind though, he seemed quite annoyed and repeatedly slapped the saucepan that he'd been brandishing as a weapon against his palm, as if he contemplated making clay squirrel soup when the festivities were over. "Go on, squirrel! Knock its teeth out!" He had to admit, it was difficult not to listen. Mostly because of the atmosphere and the peer pressure of so many people beginning to chant in unison, just to see him mutilate a dummy made of straw that he guessed was a crude imitation of a girl on the other side of Mizahar.

"Eric, mind lifting me up?" The expectant cheers drowned away anything else that came afterwards so the boy just looked like he was mouthing incoherently at the squirrel as he cupped both hands and lifted them up near the face of the dummy. Being a squirrel, obviously he didn't have a lot of power when he was up close, because his arms were so short and there was such little room to build up a powerful attack. He needed a run-up, but he didn't have one. So, he did the best he could manage. He reeled back a fist and slammed it into what he supposed would be the nose of the dummy. Then he pulled back the other, and slammed that one in instead. It wasn't very exciting, and he could tell by the rumbles in the crowd but there were a few cheers as well, so he took it as a good sign and begun to really get into it. Punching, punching, kicking, punching.. swinging all the way around and launching a pretty solid hit into the dummy, sending a few bits of straw tumbling out of the wounds. That got a bit of a higher cheer but not much more than that really. Though, Arch felt accomplished for it.

At least, until one of the older monks suddenly barged forwards from the surrounding crowds and roughly shoved Eric aside, picking up the squirrel instead. Now he just felt insulted - the monk held him like he wasn't even a living thing. Not even as one would hold a real squirrel or a mouse, but how one would hold a sword. Judging by the way that he swore quite a bit and swayed, he'd been getting a bit too 'in to' the festivities. "That's not how you do it, lad!" the monk yelled out to nobody in particularly really, since he was looking around at the entire audience - who just jeered and laughed as the monk pushed back some of the citizens in the line to try and clear up a suitable path. Some in the line were really beginning to look cross but they held their tongues as the monk swung around and clenched Archailist's entire body like it was some crude dart. He was half in the right mind to just bite down on his thumb before beating the monk bloody, whether or not it'd probably end with his own head on a spike alongside Myri's.

"You gotta throw 'em!" Oh, now the squirrel really was raving mad. Although he had absolutely no time to shout out an insult before the monk was already reeling back one arm and aiming the squirrel squarely at the center of the Myri punching-bag.

"Now hold on a se-COOOOOOOOOOOND~!" Why didn't he see it coming. He'd barely gotten a few words out before suddenly the monks arm reeled around in a half-circle and tossed the squirrel towards the bag of hay like a bolt out of a crossbow. He had barely enough time to act before impact - and in that time, what he did was purely out of reflex. Both arms came in front of his head and crossed it, to shield the most vulnerable part of his body, while molding into one-another to form a secure barricade. But that wasn't all - the shape of the barricade soon pushed out at the center and tighter at the sides, almost like a strange cone that was more two-dimensional than three-dimensional because the base wasn't circular. And the effect, when this pointed if rather crude shape struck the center of the dummy's chest at high speed, was that it tore right through. It tore through like a knife through butter and left a clean hole right where the chest had once been, and with plenty of hay tumbling out and all over the floor.

The crowds all cheered like mad.

by **Archailist** on June 10th, 2014, 7:51 pm

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

When the squirrel finally regained his senses and found himself rolling about on he floor, he grumbled and slowly rolled himself back to his feet while returning his arms and the rest of his body to its original state. Most of the citizens behind him were cheering and laughing by now, although the squirrel didn't see what was so funny. He'd been used as nothing as a projectile for their amusement and the defilement of a random punching bag filled with hay... although, when he did turn around, he couldn't deny that he'd done a damn good job. The hay had all fallen over the floor and left the remain looking very deflated, almost depressed in a way. The wound itself was huge - and apparently untouched since the attack. And considering the dummy had been practically overstuffed with hay, that was a pretty big achievement... the thing had taken countless attacks all afternoon but his attack had utterly destroyed the thing and left nothing but soiled remains.

Eventually Eric caught up, by pushing through he crowds forcefully until they eventually parted because they weren't paying attention or because they wee struggling to stand under their own weight. Even though the squirrel had managed to completely reform himself a while ago, the boy still reached down and offered a hand to climb onto. And the squirrel could certainly use a hand - at least, one that wasn't trying to crush him and throw him about like a broken spear in a hunting tournament. In an instant, he'd crawled not only onto the hand but all the way up the arm to sit on the boy-monks shoulder with a soft sigh.

"You alright, Arch? Didn't hurt you did it?" At least the squirrel had someone to rely on, who wouldn't turn at the first opportunity and launch his entire body through a straw dummy. Even if the entire experience had given him a few funny ideas for the future.. although he was more than aware of the ability and the possibilities of using his entire body as a projectile in terms of combat, perhaps it was more viable than he'd previously thought.

"I'm fine, it didn't hurt at all. The dummy wasn't sturdy in the first place. Let's go." Apparently the boy-monk was in the same spirits as the squirrel because he left without much hesitation, although there was still quite a crowd to push through. Strangely enough, the crowd seemed to almost eagerly part - the occasional high-five was thrown out, and a cheer too. It completely stumped the squirrel until he looked behind him and saw that same crowd of monks hooting and cheering behind them. "What's all this?"

He shouldn't have had to ask. The dummy had been uprooted entirely and now flew as a banner, covering many people in hay as it was held high in the air and paraded about the streets. Apparently the crowds were actually really pleased with what he'd done. And to be honest, the more he stared at that gaping hole bleeding hay and fluttering in the wind, the more he felt quite proud of what he'd done as well. He even begun to yell, return a high-five or two, and bow on his way out of the Quarter and back towards the Celestial. To relax and contemplate his newfound feelings towards Myri. A person he'd never even met and probably never would meet, who'd never done to him directly or indirectly, that was either good or bad. A myth that he'd only learned about that very day from people that obviously despised her and actively encouraged anyone else to hate on her as well.

And for all of that, he couldn't help but imagine his body bursting through her chest over and over in his head. And wishing it could happen again. For the thrill and the looks on the other monks faces. The adrenaline rush it brought, and the laughter. He was pretty sure that it made absolutely no sense whatsoever, but he suddenly came to a rather startling conclusion. He didn't hate Myri, but he wanted her dead.