Closed Can You Feel It Coming In The Air Tonight?

[Prophet]

88th of Winter, 516 AV
13th Bell

The season had been a painful one; unbearable heat, dastardly scenes, spiritual doubts and the cloud of a divinely inspired genocide had each taken a toll on the spirits of the Drykas. Today seemed to be a culmination of everything. The old women stopped gathering at the Wind Knotted Gates because they were tired of arguing points of faith with walahks. The Watch had been busy tending fires –wild and intentional for the past few months which made its members edgy. Clans were trading less. People were sharing less and bickering more. Food was beginning to run scarce. The past few seasons had all been building to something and if any was so inclined, he or she would suspect that a revelation was at hand.

A young man from the Sapphire clan was riding through from his clan’s area towards the Opal clan; most likely he was heading to the Healing Hoof or the River Flower. A group of men on foot emerged from the Topaz corridor and began to heckle him and his strider. None harmed the horse but their hooting and arm-waving made the animal jumpy. An experienced rider might have been able to deal with the disturbance without issue but this lad was not a seasoned horseman. He soon fell from his yvas when he attempted to turn the creature around and she reared up instead -a move that cast him to the ground.

The men began to laugh and pounced on the boy who was just starting his teenage years. They didn’t beat him but continued to taunt and confuse the Drykas. They chased off his mare and started to see what they could gain from this child’s pockets. Several watchman rode forth within a chime’s passing and instead of asking for a peaceful resolution, one of the rough-housing men took a boot to the face. Several more chimes passed and the small disturbance grew as dozens of walahk poured into the heart of the Tent City while watch patrols and Drykas joined in by the handful until there was no room for anyone to move. Fistfights, stomping horses and lots of shouting almost seemed to mask the sound of a storm brewing from the south.

A huge front was willing its way across the open grasslands at such a great speed that it didn’t seem real. Grey clouds darkened as the face of the storm lowered nearer to Semele’s skin. Thunder boomed and the mass of clouds stretched out until it blocked the rays of Syna. The Sea of Grass always had a line of green as far as the eye could see and today, that line was matched by the ominous grey band that was now whirling at the center. The sheer size of the twisting body within the heavens would swallow Endrykas four times over but no one in the scuffle seemed to pay any mind.

For the first twenty chimes of fighting, it was all fists and boots –headbutts and hip throws but then the inevitable escalation arrived. A gurgled scream silenced and stilled the heated bodies as glances and stares searched for the source. Several people stepped back as a Drykas man, roughly in his twenties, dropped to his knees while holding his neck. Bright red blood trickled in a decreasing rhythm of bursts through the space between his fingers. Standing behind him was Axel –Jonas’ goon- with a glistening dagger that held only a few drops of blood along the edge.

In the blink of an eye, weapons were drawn on both sides and it seemed as if a small war would break out when Jonas stepped forward and shouted for peace in Common and Pavi. Cyrus Windreaver also rode to the front and ordered his men and women to stand down but not without casting a baleful glance at Jonas.

“Your buffoon will be judged for this, Jonas Pridesun as will your ruffians for attacking a bonded Drykas!” The man signed for several watchmen to take the agitators into custody but the rowdy mobs were hesitant to move on one another.

The Topaz ankal seemed unphased and mounted his own horse so that he could easily be heard and seen. Jonas stared across the way to the powerful leader of the Diamond clan. Cyrus had, on several occasions, threatened to dismember the elder Pridesun during heated arguments in the Conclave. “Cyrus, would you have me believe that you’ve changed your stance on the unbonded?” Jonas laughed and signed to his people to remain calm. The interesting thing about this was that it made Jonas appear to be in favor of a peaceful endeavor but the majority of his followers did not know or understand Pavi. The long silvery-gold hair of the man blew in the wind that was kicking up dust all around the city. Jonas opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Cyrus.

The Sayeth urged his large grey stallion ahead and bumped Jonas’ horse. This was enough to disrupt the long-winded, dung-filled speech that was sure to follow. The leader of all the Drykas warriors raised his hand and signed, once again, for calm. “We’ve had enough of your lies and stories, Jonas! This ends to-”

A massive bolt of lightning ripped through the sky a mile south of the Tent City. The boom that followed shook the earth in such a way that horses and people staggered. All eyes looked to the cloud that was rotating and watched in awe. Cyrus pointed at the thunderhead with a confidence borne of a lifetime of faith. Look! “See Jonas? Our god, Zulrav –the father of storms, comes to correct your heresy!” The Drykas and members of the Watch paused in awe but felt inspired in the next gust of wind. They bristled at those around Jonas and pushed inward like a fist closing around a rodent.

Jonas balked for only a split-second then aired his own speech. “That is the Dual God! He is both fair and merciful! That is why he spared the blaspheming woman from the fire but allowed her possessions to burn!” The mostly unbound and unmounted horde that arrived with Jonas cheered, shouted praises to their ‘True God’ and pushed back against the encroaching natives. It seemed as though the once small skirmish was a breath away from becoming a full on riot when another blinding flash of light and terrible boom made every mortal cower and freeze. The ripple could be felt inside the ears, along the bones in the chest and the static that made hairs to rise. Anger began to lose its hold on the crowd to fear.

[Khida]

In the ten days since the last storm, Khida had hardly left the city. Not in comparison to her usual wont, often ranging widely in search of game; no, she and her strider went out for only a bell, perhaps a little more, and the Kelvic spent most of that time hunting in feathered form. It didn't much matter how she hunted, besides; game animals of all kinds seemed fewer and fewer with each passing day.

But even less, in this time, did Khida foray into the city. It didn't feel right, not anymore. The atmosphere crackled with tensions that kept her on edge, a perennial itching feeling nestled between her shoulderblades, whenever she was away from their camp -- usually escorting another Dawnwhisper, providing what safety there might be in small numbers. Eyes watched hungrily. Knots of men carried themselves with the manner of scavengers -- not certain predators, but cause for wariness all the same -- seeking an opportunity to pounce. Arguments carried on the winds and soured the moods of everyone in hearing, all too often escalating into harsher conflicts.

This city was not home. Not as it should be.

Between one thing and another, Khida had taken keen interest in a new pastime. She practiced it now, off to one side of the Dawnwhisper camp: the art of spear-wielding. She moved slowly, holding a position long enough to confirm balance, to check muscle tension and strain and strength, then gliding through to another. High guard, with the tip well back over one shoulder, left hand midway up and right near the spear's butt. Middle guard, tip pointing towards her imagined enemy, right hand close in to her hip. A thrust, right hand surging forward, left hand guiding while allowing the shaft to pass through. Return, and a shift to half-staff, drawing the spear back, left hand sliding up near to the tip, right landing in the middle. Then a slash --

Hoots and hollers progressed to shouts and the sodden thunk of impacts on flesh, one of which carried very clearly on strengthening winds. Khida froze mid-motion, ears tuned towards the building fracas. She turned to face it, spear coming to rest at her side, its butt grounded against the earth. Listening, she did not think the fracas threatened to envelop them, out near the end of Amethyst's branch, for all that it carried on and on... and on... but she would stand sentry, waiting, just in case.

Her Strider seemed to agree, as the horse clopped up into her peripheral view, ears pricked...

...no, not towards the fight...

Thunder boomed fit to make Khida jump out of her skin. Almost literally.

There had not been a storm in that sky mere chimes ago... and what a tremendous, awful, terrible storm it was!

Khida stared, her thoughts stuttering to an absolute halt. Storms didn't come that big... did they?

They must. This one did.

Her thoughts drew themselves back together, went to the tents, the wagon, but -- at the speed with which that massive funnel approached, Khida had not the time to secure tiedowns, to pack gear, even to marshal the beasts and the children, for whatever good those acts might have done. The great storm would reave them from the earth, or it would not, and no action she might take could possibly influence the outcome.

A sign found expression on her fingers, one the Drykas seemed to use to ward off undesirable events. Avert, she signed, thought, wished with all the fervent will of one staring death in the face. Not only for herself, but for nearly everyone she loved and cared for and needed to protect -- and that was what cut deepest of all.

Human or falcon, Khida had no power here.

She could not defend. She could not even make a stand. She could only watch, cling to an ever-thinning sliver of hope, and... pray, scrunching eyes shut and body down against another actinic flash and the bone-rattling crack which accompanied it.

God of storms, pass my family by!

Khida space Common | Pavi
other space Common | Pavi

[Haena]

Speech
Others

Haena grimaced, ducking underneath the furious swipe of a Pridesun. The attack wasn't even aimed at her, but she felt it's power pass her by a fraction as she gasped in a sharp breath and dived to the ground, skidding her knees in the yellow grass before pushing herself up awkwardly. Alta' whinnied nervously nearby, and Haena leaped up breathing heavily with exertion. "It's okay girl, hey hey." We'll get out of this... somehow. How had she even managed to get into this mess? One moment she had been returning from the River Flower, the next she had stumbled into the outskirts of an argument. Then she'd been sucked in, against her will.

Alta' tossed her mane, and Haena snatched a quick glance around, checking her surroundings hurriedly. It was clear, so she leapt up her strider's side, and settled herself on her back. Now it was simply a case to navigate out of this mess, a task more difficult than she had wished for. She stroked Alta's mane frantically, trying to let her know it would be okay. Gods, for all the nobleness of the Drykas, some of us are stupid. She glared at the one she considered the instigator, the form of Jonas Pridesun. She sneered the name in her mind, the man was a wretched petch. She had little patience for that one, nor his 'ideas'.

Yet there were more pressing matters. Getting out of the rabble, away from the punch-ups and the altercations. There were people all around, and there wasn't much room to squeeze out. Alta' was pacing round and round, snorting, trying to find a way out. The fighting had died down a little now, the leaders were talking, and Haena half-listened. Until, just before it happened, she happened to glance up at the sky.

Gods, but it was dar..- Lightening sundered the air, and the fierce vibrancy of it made her entire body fill with the weightlessness of shock. The almighty thrum of thunder that followed seemed to spark the crowd, that pushed up against her horse. Walahk! She screamed in her mind as she guided Alta' out of the scrum. But another burst of shattering light clattered to the earth under the sky, and she ducked as if it would physically rend her limb from limb. Now terrified, Haena urged Alta' towards the edge and dismounted, landing painfully.

There was a woman, vaguely familiar, that stood nearby. Seeking solace of some kind, Haena lead her strider towards her as she walked, fearfully walking as if Zulrav's vengeance would spill from the swirling, ominous clouds at any moment. There wasn't much she had to say to the woman, but the herbalist strode to her anyway, her first thoughts forming on her lips as she whipped her head backwards and forwards, searching for the lightening in the sky. Her words, spoken in rushed Pavi, were whipped by the winds. "Hey! Zulrav have mercy on you." She wished fervently, and signed please, fearful of the storm, grateful."Is this your pavilion? If it comes to it, could I take shelter here?"

.

[Naiya]

Heat was expected now, despite the color that danced above the watchtowers across the land, and her people had simply adjusted, she had adjusted. Yet, there was still wrong in the air, tension and fear that drove people to strange behaviors and sucked the life out of the normally raucous Drykas.

Naiya had a bubble of peace ensnared within her pavilion, her child, her wife, her friends. These people provided a sense of normalcy, trapping her tension in a small, separate space outside of her mind. So it was that she spent most of her time between the two pavilions she belonged to, riding out the ritual of her days in the roles of mother, wife, and shopkeeper.

Her home today was the store, opened in the back to face her pavilion, wary of leaving herself blind to the goings on there while separated in her shop. Shai at her feet was the center of her attention for very few wished to spend coin on cheese when it was meat that was scarce. Still there were some that stopped by, but her shop was out of the way, and at this point in the day it seemed that most had gone to face some other task.

When wind began to whisper through the open path of the shop, Naiya went out to face it, scooping Shai up into her arms so that the breeze might cool him as well. Pleasure shaped her body as she stepped outside, eyes falling to the form of her wife moving through the motions of spear work. Khida had grown further watchful, they all had, but her wife seemed to take best to the role. She was present, diligent, and working hard to hone her body into one that was skilled in combat. The sight filled Naiya with pride and love. Her wife, a hunter, a warrior, a protector. There was no better way to be.

Her moment was short lived, for carried on the growing breath of Zulrav the clashing sounds of a fight reached even their outlying pavilion. All the eyes of their pavilion turned towards the clamor, surveying the mass of tents and people that made up the city. The sounds built to a crescendo, as though the entirety of the world had paused in their breath waiting for this moment.

A rumbling boom of horses’ hooves in the sky above shook the earth and everything in between, casting silence across the city for only a moment. Shai looked up at his mother with eyes comically wide, scared by the sound that silenced the land. She soothed him, but his cries of fear joined with the sound of voices that were raised once more carrying on the wind from the center of the city.

Her thought to investigate the disturbance, nearly visible from their position in the outer reaches of the Amethyst spoke, was interrupted by the cracking whips of her hair, torn and tossed about in a flight of Zulrav's breath. She turned into the gust, protecting the child in her arms from lashes of hair, and her eyes found the rolling waves of the sea, beaten flat by the anger of the god. Grass undulated across the horizon, the rise and fall of the tips a brief warning of the impending buffeting of wind for those who chose to look.

Something had inspired the fury of their patron god. Seemingly in agreement with her thoughts, a streak of white fire rent the darkened sky in two followed instantly by a mind-shattering clatter and crash of thunder. This was a storm that flattened cities and tore families apart. Set upon them in mere ticks, there was no hiding, no sheltering from this storm. This was vengeance, hurled upon their city for tolerating the arrogance of the Pridesun man. There was no help to be had for them.

They could simply weather the storm. Her eyes flashed across the land. Her pavilion, her family, her home. Settling on the form of her wife, Naiya crossed the land, her hands echoing the signing of a woman who approached from the chaos of the center of the city. Her words were cut by the shape of the child in her arms, wailing his fear as she bounced and swayed, but there was no soothing the storm, and she doubted that without that there would be relief for her bosu.

She reached out to her wife for reassurance, a brush of fingers down her shoulder lingering at the crease of her elbow. From her place beside her wife, Naiya spoke to the unfamiliar woman.

"It is ours," home, safe, "We can share the shelter it may provide from such..." Her voice drifted as she gestured to the sky, lacking words to describe the raw manifestation of power.

-----------

Naiya space Pavi | Common | Tukant
other space Pavi | Common | Tukant

[Konrad Venger]

He woke with the gnawing in his guts, in his heart, in his kind, crawling around like cockroaches. He'd stretched and popped weary, sleep-addled joints and muscles, but the feeling had remained. He drudged from his tent to his snares, to the stew pots, to the chopping blocks where guts and sinew and red, delicious muscle was waiting his attention and the whole time, every task and duty-

Konrad had to fight the urge to look behind him. The number of times the hairs on his neck and all shuddered together, making his shoulders bob like some tall and terrible thing was sighing on his neck... but no. Not a thing.

Bollocks, his mind whispered, and it sound so small.

"Hansel" was much like Konrad; he spent much of his time alone. He practiced with his sword and other blades, now with his bow. He trotted around Endrykas on his sturdy little pony, getting used to shifting his weight for direction, in lieu of a yvas or a saddle.

Sometimes he ventured deeper into the grass and practiced his wyrd. He made fire and conjured balls of the stuff, hurling it around. Now he could do something else: drag water from the ground and fill buckets, or hurl it with force enough that a man could be knocked on his arse as one hit by a hose.

Bit that took a lot of the stuff and, really, water wasn't something to waste.

Like everything else.

Behind the figure in the roiling, trembling field, Endrykas was starving, and not in the obvious sense. Even a misanthrope and killer like Konrad could see more was missing than just. Trust. Compassion. Mercy. Love. Patience. All running dry and every day that passed was another layer of tinder. All it needed was a single-

He was standing with a ball of res between his hand when it happened. He hissed as the sound of a hundred voices of men all twisted by hate pushed into his mind. The res ball sputtered like a candle in the rain and then fell apart. Konrad blinked and looked behind him.

Saw nothing but tents and smoke. But somewhere beyond it, and not far from where he stood... screams. Cries. Oaths and the clack and clang of weapons hammering into each other. Not the wet ripping of steel through flesh nor the whistling of arrows, but... such noise. So many. And so close, meaning-

"Petching ol' bastard gettin' in every more shyke."

This did the walahk pronounce his judgement on that worthless, two-faced sack of rancid shyke Jonas Pridesun. The man who preached love and loyalty, and ordered old ladies burned alive in the shadows. The ankal who led his people with such devotion, and yet blackmailed them into obeying his commands. The man who thought himself a prophet, yet acted more and more the petulant, entitled child the more Konrad saw of him.

Bastard saved you, too, Konrad reminded himself unnecessarily, snatching up his duster as he went. Otherwise he'd be dead by now.

He walked swiftly, almost jogging, and streams of men were still passing him. Some carried weapons, but most bore empty hands and eyes brimming with malice. The city whole had been bound up and wound tight; this was the day Konrad was afraid of, seen a hundred times back home in Sunberth.

This was when the fine talkers either restored fear, or loyalty, or love, or the mob would decide for itself how best to alleviate its mood. In that event, Konrad was going to lay low and kill any stupid sod that came near him.

Yet his eyes were not on the scurrying humanity. They were on the sky. As trhey gazed they widened, and for every fraction they grew it seemed the grey smear on the horizon grew. Clouds folded and unfurled and crashed into each other over and over, and as he got closer and the roars of brawling men grew louder, he craned his name up and up and up and it seemed-

-a mountain stretching into the sky, teetering on the edge, would soon come down to crush them. Clouds so black they were as cliffs of rock, needing one solid hammerblow to wipe Endrykas off the map, and yet-

"Bastard!"

Street instincts kicked in without needing to be asked. Konrad snapped his gaze down and swayed back at the same time, knowing roughly which direction the curse had come from. A youth with hair flailing across one side and yet shorn scalp-close on the other misjudged his punch and threw off his own balance, overstepping-

-Konrad's knee doubled him up and killed his legs under him. The Sunberth man left him to puke up his lunch without looking back, seeking Jonas or Axel or Seodn or some familiar face.

Jonas was bellowing. Someone else on a horse was shouting back and-

He couldn't help it. He cringed when a beast invisible and vast roared in the sky above them. Surely not mere wind and rain could create such a monstrosity. Konrad grabbed his kopis almost as a reassurance, like a talisman, as if he could swipe down the endless sky, now choked of blue and replaced with hills and mountains and all of it was so close, and so-

-again-

-loud.

Another rattling boom that shook him from his jaw to the angry stretches of skin where season-old wounds had only just completely healed. Konrad bore his teeth at the sky and knew his eyes did not match his snarl. This didn't... was this feeling familiar? That rustle under his skin, all day. The events of the season, from sputtering back to life in a Pridesun wagon, to finding out Jonas true natire, to torching gthat Roby woman's home, to Azmere and Sloane and Khida, all of it and yet his story was but a thread in a web and the web was tangled beyond his ken.

The sky roared. Konrad was, by default, clustered with the pavilion he had ridden and hunted and slept with for a season. Sedon was close by and as he glanced around-

-familiar brown eyes met his own from a ways away. Despite the distance, he knew them, and the spear, and the open secret beneath that fac ethat looked more... hawkish, than human. Konrad swallowed and peered upward.

Jonas boasted. The other man shot something back. Konrad looked up. If he squinted hard enough, he could almost see what had been stalking him for the season, and his hand did not leave his sword.

Something is coming.

Something is here.

[Taurina]

Something was coming. Taurina did not know what it was, but something was coming. She could feel it in the air. It was a sort of wrongness that filled the space between the people of Endrykas. The weather had put them all on edge, but it was more than that. The lack of food made people irritable. Arguments turned into all out wars between people. People bought little, traded little, and were instead almost hostile towards each other. It was a strange time and the people of the tent city had changed from the season before. Taurina was worried that they would change more. That all these little things would pile up to be too much and before the land or another people group had a chance, the horse clans would wipe themselves from existence.

“Rina, Rina! Wake up Rina!” she was dreaming, the Ethaefal knew that she had to be dreaming.

The little voice of that strange child had not been heard since the season’s beginning. The moment Taurina had joined her new pavilion, the girl had disappeared. The Ethaefal quickly been convinced in those first days that the girl had been a simple figure of her imagination. A being created by her own mind to battle the loneliness she faced each day. Now that she had a family of sorts, there was no reason for the girl. She could slip away and never appear again. It would be as if she had never existed.

“You’re not real. Go away,” Taurina fought the pull to wake from her slumber.

“They’re fighting Rina. Something is coming,” the voice remained lingering at the frayed edges of Taurina’s consciousness.

Something had already come. The priests and their orders of death. The Pridesun with his blasphemy. Morwen’s betrayal. Wrong. It was all wrong.

“Taurina, get up. Get up, Taurina,” a sturdy hand shook at Taurina’s shoulder, a deep voice spoke the words.

It was rare for the Ethaefal to sleep at the Lilacwind pavilion. In fact, she had never done it before. Why slumber had fallen over her this day was a mystery, but it likely had to do with the fact no one had come in. The day had been painfully slow and after organizing everything about four times over, the group had just sat around doing different projects. The Ethaefal realized upon waking that she must have dozed off at some point. Her sketch book still laid open in her lap, a piece of charcoal still gripped between her fingers.

“You should head home,” Injal signed warning before pointing towards the sound of voices shouting and weapons striking. Fight. Bad fight.

The Ethaefal laid her charcoal between the pages of the sketch book and moved to stand. She could hear better now. The sounds were far, but not very. There were so many of them, she did not know what to think of the situation. Especially because she could not see it, but perhaps that was a good thing. Fighting was not something she was particularly good at. She knew too little of what to do when in one. Better get to the pavilion, it would be safer there.

The sounds of battle had quieted by the time Taurina left the Lilacwinds. An uneasy lingered feeling in the depths of Taurina’s being. Was it over? Or had it simply just begun? From beneath her, Melody let out a high pitched neigh that was accompanied by flicking ears uneasy steps. She was nervous and Taurina was there right along with her.

“Easy girl, easy. We’re going home,” Taurina aimed to sooth, but her own voice shook with a terror that had filled most of her existence.

It was then that the first bolt of lightning blindingly flashed through the sky and the horrible boom of thunder shook the earth. Melody squealed, throwing her head, and Taurina held on with all of her force. The mare regained some composer and Taurina panted, her legs and fists aching from the effort holding on had taken. Her caramel gaze lifted to the sky to see, not Syna, but the beginnings of a cloud that spun like none the Eth had seen before. There was a gasp of fear and an urging of her steed to move. Home. They must get home. A storm was brewing and soon it would be here to destroy everything. God of storms save them all.

Another bolt of lighting, another boom. They were not going to make it. The Eth’s mare shrieked again, racked with as much -if not more- fear as her rider. Taurina looked at that massive swirling cloud once more. Would the pavilion have even saved them from such a thing as that if they had reached it? Melody was throwing her head, fighting her rider with everything she had. Taurina had lost what had once been a very easy, compliant mare to a raging beast. The Eth dug heels into the mare’s sides, forcing her to obey and continue forward. They had to find somewhere to go, somewhere to hide. Why had she ever left the Lilacwinds?

There! A familiar strider, a group of Drykas outside of a pavilion. A surge of hope followed the discovery. Perhaps she would survive the storm after all. Taurina urged her mare towards them, towards the other Stormblood and those that stood beside her. The wind pulled at her hair, stung her eyes, and caused her mouth to become dry. She made it to the stangers’ pavilion weary and scared, but with a whisper of hope bubbling within her.

“Can I join? Is there room to shelter from the storm?” was her desperate plea in cracked pavi that fought against the raging winds.

She hoped they understood. She hoped that they agreed. If they didn’t… ‘God of storms, have mercy on me.’

Common | Pavi | 'Thoughts'

[Sloane]

Sloane was tired, her body ached and her mind felt slower than usual, and the walahk did her best to ignore it as she walked with Katrine, the youngest adult of the Firelash Pavilion, and the newest mother. Sloane liked her, so far, and the two were getting along well as they went about errands together. The other woman's Common was fair enough, and the two had gotten used to the odd combination of Pavi and Common that it took to communicate. Katrine had proved to be good company, especially since Sloane had conceded to Kadir's wishes, and began accepting Haigen's advances. The pavilion as a whole seemed to be beginning to accept her, Whayhana even going so far as to call her 'sister'. It had been a strange development for Sloane, on one hand she'd felt more accepted and secure in her place in Endrykas, while on the other, she'd had to put aside her objections and sleep with a man she held no fondness or respect for, to conceive a child she did not want.

Her gaze drifted thoughtfully back to Katrine, her infant son cradled carefully in her arms. Not for the first time, the walahk wondered if she would soon be expecting one of her own. It was too soon for her to tell, but she'd been tracking the day's carefully, and would soon know for certain if her next bleeding failed to come. The thought only caused her more anxiety, an uncomfortable twist of her gut at the thought of being a mother, of carrying a child. She was distracted from her thoughts as Katrine turned to her, brows raised and head tilted, clearly distracted. "You hear?" She asked, brow furrowed in confusion, and after a moment of concentration, Sloane realised why. Yells and screams, the sounds of a fight it seemed, were coming from the centre of the city, and Sloane could see other's already drifting that way, exchanging confused looks with those around them. After a moment, Sloane and Katrine followed.

As they walked, a flash of lightning rent the sky and a cacophonous boom rolled over the land, causing Sloane to stagger to a halt in shock. Her time in Endrykas had been marked by many storms and rain showers, but this was the worst by far. Exchanging uneasy glances, the two women followed the yells and cries, finally emerging into a large space free of tents, but packed full of men and women, brawling wildly with one another. Sloane drew closer, Katrine following uncertainty, and the two cast their gazes over the crowd, taking in the two mounted men and those around them. Amongst it all, a figure caught Sloane's attention, tall and wearing a broad rimmed hat, instantly familiar and recognisable to her.

It had been a long while since she'd last seen him, twenty day's at least, but Sloane still felt raw and vulnerable from their last encounter. His words had hurt her, and she'd had made it a point to avoid him since, her pride and feelings wounded by the scarred man. Despite that, her gaze lingered, worried for his safety and caught by the desire to watch the events unfolding around them. A second crack of lightening and roll of thunder echoed around them, and Katrine flinched, a hand curling around Sloane's arm in fright. People around them began to leave, pushing in one way or the other and jostling the two women as they went.

Katrine pulled at Sloane, little Lowen held close to her chest, her eyes flicking desperately between the walahk and the rolling squall bearing down on the tent city. "Sloane, must go!" She called, tugging insistently on the other woman's arm, fear clear across her face. Glancing around, Sloane pulled her gaze from the scene before them, taking in the younger woman and her infant son. "You go, Kat. I'll be fine!" She called finally, gently but firmly pulling the Drykas' hand from her arm. Katrine hesitated for a moment, but Lowen began to fuss, and she made up her mind. Squeezing her soon to be sister-in-law's hand, she turned, and hurried through the crowd back in the direction of the Firelash Pavilion. Letting out a nervous, shuddering breath, Sloane's gaze returned to the din, flicking between the storm above and then back to Hansel.

Common ~ Pavi ~ Thoughts

[Prophet]

There was nothing that anyone could do for several moments but watch the sky swirl in a long, slow spiral up into the massive cloud front that encroached upon the city. The last peel of thunder had stunned the fight right out of most people and some who were about to fight huddled together out of instinct. A hot breeze came from the storm cell and it seemed to hush the world. The grasses picked it up and rustled back in response as if the tall blades were communicating with the sky.

The sky was completely covered as far as anyone in Endrykas could see but there was an eerie yellow tinge behind the clouds that was like the reflection in a stagnant pool of water. As the steppe swayed in a majestic lull, tensions flared in small pockets here and there but most of the crowd was trying to scatter for protection from the impending storm.

Axel, the big lummox, moved along beside Jonas as the two whispered together. Cyrus had yet to leave the center. The stubborn and strong man was unfazed by the size of the goons and he certainly had the skills to deal with most anyone. The Sayeth passed a few signs to several groups of Watch members. One patrol circled around behind Jonas while the other lined up behind their leader. Jonas gave a nod and Axel yelled in a very peculiar way. It was high-pitched, loud and long with a dip then rise in the tone. Anyone who heard might think that an animal had been killed. The swarm of walahk returned in a flash with their crude weapons drawn. The Watch patrol stood firm but they were about to be overrun. Cyrus suddenly realized that most of his people had gone to batten down their homes and would be caught offguard by the mob. He raised his voice in a call for arms but no one would hear it.

The earth trembled violently. It shook men to the ground and caused horses to throw their riders. Animals of all sorts started to flee the area but a flash of lightning froze everyone. It was so bright that there wasn’t a single bolt –just a flash that blanked out everything and everyone for a stitch in time. The blast made the air pop with heat that was enough to warm the skin then another tremor rocked the area only this time it was accompanied by the sound of the soil being ripped apart. A huge rift nearly ten feet across cut a line between the Drykas and the approaching horde of angry outsiders. The scar in Semele’s skin swallowed Axel in a yelp. Jonas’ eyes went wide as he drew his horse back away from the newly formed ravine.

From deep down inside the crevice, a rumble echoed. It grew louder and louder until a mound of rocks and soil laced with gems rose above the grasses. People gasped and held their breath as did the storm overhead. It slowly rotated but made no flashes of light or claps of thunder. Soon, all could see the source of the awe and wonder on those closest to the opening. A beautiful woman covered in gemstones of all colors and sizes walked up the mound and stepped onto the Sea of Grass. Her skin was olive and brown like a rich, mossy soil and her hair was green like veins of exposed copper that ran in elegant rivers down her back. Those close enough could see the magnificence of her green eyes but there were few who could stand in her presence. Knees gave way and hearts fluttered while guilt and shame caused those affected to turn their heads. The woman looked around with human features –an amazing sculpture of high cheek bones and an angled jaw framed lips that were painted like rubies. The emerald gaze seemed to pierce one’s very soul.

Jonas struggled to speak and to remain on his feet having been thrown from his horse during the first tremble. Three times he opened his mouth but only choked sounds were made. Roddy towered next to his leader and shifted his weight. The walking giant didn’t seem to care for the display. It was then that another sound was heard; a familiar and terrible sound. It was the sound of a funnel cloud. The swirling winds roared and whipped from the massive storm above then the clouds began to stretch down towards the city of Drykas.

The atmospheric anomaly seemed to grow to the size of a pavilion and then descended straight down. Now this cloud was absolutely different from the rest of the front. It was black as a charred log and the air which surrounded it was freezing cold. The speed of the swirls and currents were so strong that the sheer force was enough to rend someone’s flesh. This was evident in the way the cloud tore apart the grass and soil when it touched down –chunks of sod flying everywhere.

In the midst of all of this, Alladon and Joseph emerged from a blue tent and instantly fell to their knees. The fun-loving Joseph was almost in tears as he prayed in Common to a flurry of gods for both mercy and a display of power. Alladon quaked in his boots and robe, paralyzed but he felt elated which revealed itself in the twinkle of his watery eyes. Both men knew who stood before them; well- stood and flew.

Jonas turned away from the supernatural figures and raised his hands to his people who were shaking with fear but unable to look away. The man’s arms quivered and his voice faltered several times before he finally garbled out a message. “This is the Dual God! Come to reward the faithful!”

The wind apparition stole across the ravine and knocked Jonas to the dirt. A voice, booming like thunder, cut the strange silence and the clouds above began to swirl faster. “Be silent, fool!” Jonas turned over, tears streaming down his face and all the color gone from his skin. He muttered and stammered but there was no time for repentance. The furious cluster of winds scooped him up and tossed him around inside the darkness. Screams could be heard but they sounded far away. An entire chime passed as the cloud wrestled with itself. It rose and fell, turned and twisted and slid around until the woman spoke. Her voice was low and soft but carried weight and resonance like a rockslide.

“Enough, please.”

Just the sound of her voice stilled the cloud and those mortals who heard her would now feel like clutching the earth beneath their feet. It was hard to not desire a glimpse of the elegant beauty but her voice struck fear and a sense of mortality in the people around her. Lightning came from the huge storm cloud down to the small wind devil and there was a brief flash from within that revealed the black silhouette of a man. When the flare was over, ash sifted from the mass of clouds and dust as it moved towards the green woman.

For the time being, there was tranquility. Animals would cease to be afraid and the violent bouts of weather and seismic activity now seemed unreal or imagined. People would feel less afraid but still overwhelmed by the reverence that hung like a blanket around the two beings. It was clear, now, that Zulrav and Semele had come to reclaim their people; their children. To further emphasize the point, striders cast aside their riders and yvas if they hadn’t already and walked –very calmly- towards the center of Endrykas. Hundreds of horses congregated on both sides of the giant crack in the soil in an effort to be close to the deities but there was no nudging or shoving.

Suddenly, the striders began to glow. The markings, lines and patterns emerged on the mares and stallions in the pallid light of the day. An aura of blues, greens, purples and whites radiated from the majestic beasts as they stood in the presence of their god. All of the Drykas and even those without striders felt ill-equipped to process such beauty and elegance. Children clutched their parents while men held their chests and women wept but none of these things were out of sadness. Despite the trials of seasons’ past and present –joy was bestowed upon the horse clans.

[Rufio]

　　
　　　　　　 a storm

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　of storms

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　roiled

　　　　　　　　within the grassland Sea
　　　　　　　　　　within Drykas blood.


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The fortune-teller sat, watchful, atop her strider's back, ochre gaze taking in the brawl as its temper rose and then subdued amid the brewing storm. Wind whipped at her cropped mane and that of her stallion, charcoal fire tossed loose and free from their braids. Zulrav's breath tugged at her bare arms under the yellow wool vest, his touch sink into the russet wool pants against her thighs, where she felt Loha's flanks quivering against her.

　　　　Tension sparked in the air, rippling along the earth. Suspense hung, looming in a great grey sky.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Lightning stripped colours from the scene, flashing in her wide-open orbs, light dancing with the fear laid there. Her chest rose and fell with deep, rapid breaths, as if she ran.

When a high-pitch cry rang out into the thunderous din, Loha started and neighed. Rufio with him, sucked in a breath as she twisted in her seat, mouth agape in alarm as a horde of Walakh's charged on the Drykas.

Cyrus at the center of the masses calling for arms, his commanding baritone torn into the wind and cast to grasses. Outsiders charging on horse-clans. Foreign preaching of the Dual-God pitted against their ancient faith.

Anger broiled under her skin, concurrent, molten, and thrumming in her veins with the vibrations of that thunder. It was borne by grief laid into her bones this season, borne by purity of faith. A scowl darked her freckles and the Stormblood kicked Loha into a canter.

He lunged towards the Clans, towards the fight. When the prickle of lightning quivered across her caramel skin and Semele shook. Loha reared with a shriek, Rufio was thrown to the ground.

Wincing as she rose her bruised ribs from the ground, the Storm-God lit up the clans in blinding light, and the fortune-teller shielded her squinting eyes with a scraped and bleeding arm.

Semele rent the earth, split dirt at their feet, divided Walahk and Drykas. Rufio half-lay against Her rumbling body, hands splayed against the dry dirt, as she stared in awe.

　　　　　　　　 the gods came...

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The fortune-teller's freckles ridden by reverent wonder, the tinge of fear flickering in the dappled shadows there, as she beheld their forms.

“This is the Dual God! Come to reward the faithful!” Jonas claimed the apparitions his, was commanded silent by the crack of a thunderous blow. Rufio took in his terrified face, felt a sense of Deja vu flash the mirage of another's visage in her eye.

　　　　　　　　　　　　Before the Storm swept him up in its grasp and tossed him into His wild wind swirling. Rufio felt Zulrav's booming voice and unwavering temper would be etched in her memory forever.

“Enough, please.” The Earth Mother bade, and The Storm settled. Rufio felt as if the tensions that had been pressing upon her ebbed, and slowly, shakily, she rose to her feet.

For Rufio, the tranquility felt like an embrace, Zulrav and Semele, Spirit Father and Mother, regarding their children with protective gaze. She felt the vibrations of their power emanating, vibrating softly in her bones, soothing.

　　　　These gods, known in her heart.
　　　　A deep sense of connection seeped in.

　　　　　　　　　　　　It was then the fortune-teller felt Loha standing still behind her, his breaths huffing deep and relaxed into the din. The heavy clomp of his hooves was a soothing rhythm as he walked towards the ravine. Rufio's ochre gaze followed him, wonder in them.

When the horses all began to glow, a kaleidoscope of colours and patterns, Rufio felt a surge of emotion overwhelm her. Joy, sadness, loss, fear, hope, awe, reverence mingling and congealing. So dense the feelings, they seeped to reverberate in her bones, a throbbing pulse.

Whispered on the tip of her Shiber-tinged tongue was a wordless prayer, her mind had not the room to know what she said or even meant. Tears pooled into her eyes, and slipped silently down over her cheeks.
　　

[Konrad Venger]

There were no words that came to his mind. His tongue was not just stilled, it had turned to a lump of lead, and his mind had done the same. First came that raving rush of combat after Axel gave that queer roar, like a bull being butchered. He was carried on that tide of furious flesh, set to crash into the line of Drykas and even as they pounded closer, his sword now flashing in his hand, the man from Sunberth doubted, feared-

He squashed them. He was on the winning side. Jonas and his mob had the advantage of numbers. The Watchmen and his troops were well-trained but too few, soon to be overrun. There would be new rules. A new leader, he was sure. More blood to be spilled, of course, but Konrad had no problem with that.

So many plans. Such a clear future. As in Sunberth, easily divined when blood and uprising was concerned. The affairs and ambitions of Man, simple to trace to one such as Konrad.

Then Man became inconsequential. With sound and fury beyond mortal ken, rending of the ground and breaking of the sky, Konrad knew much would change, and then he knew nothing at all.

His mind clicked forward softly, silently, in the way an animal's might. Even less, as it seemed, since the horses were drifting slowly over to... them. Them. Him and her. Even placing genders on them was difficult. But his eyes were not lying, not like when that petching fog had dulled and clouded his wits. He looked around and saw the whole crowd, walahk and Watch, all staring with him, bloody business all but forgotten.

He looked around once, and not again. He could not look away.

There were no thoughts in his head. Not yet, anyway. When he'd been poleaxed outside the Blood Pits in Sunberth years ago, nose spread across his face and brain almost scrambled, this was how he'd felt. There was no thoughts, just feelings. And as he watched, and the striders gathered began to leak and radiate and sheer color dazzled them all, so much that Konrad had to raise one hand to shield his eyes...

It was beautiful. But it was not alone.

A raised voice. A furious command. Aggression and ugliness bottled and vomited as words and that cut through whatever wonder Konrad felt. Thirty years of Sunberth upbringing brought his gaze snapping around to see Jonas Pridesun - the big man, the prophet, the Chosen of the Dual God - cowering on his back with a spectre of crackling light and swirling air looming over him.

Konrad didn't need to think to solve that one. He was finished. He was over. His power, his influence, whatever designs he had. Having some mouthy old bat from the Sapphire Clan slagging you off was one thing, but having the... the...

The gods. That's what they are. And they're here.

He swallowed and finished the thought, as best he could. Jonas and his little insurrection was over. The gods themselves had come down to his people and shown them the truth, or at least where Jonas and his heresy had a place in it.

He should have been thinking what to do next. What the man would try, because such as Jonas would never give up their pursuit of power. Then the god of air and storm answered that for them all and Konrad-

Gulped. He'd seen men killed in every way the human mind could imagine, but never in ways that a god could. He watched with wide eyes as Jonas - hulking, powerful, scheming bastard that he knew - was carried like a child into the speaking maelstrom, buffeted and bloodied until...

A flash. A mas of charcoal and ash that had once been a person. Then it was just air and wind and Konrad felt the merest dusting across his face as Zulrav let go his prey, such as it was.

"Petch me runnin'..."

He turned back and tipped back his hat a little, better that the light could bathe his face. Make even those hideous scars dance and shimmer with colors he'd seen and many he'd never even imagined. Still the figures stood silent, waiting, watching, letting the simple display of animal fealty and wonder slowly drown the skeptics in the crowd.

Konrad felt something prickle on his neck. An old feeling. A warning. But no suspicion came with it, just a slow, strange certainty, and he turned his head-

-found blonde hair and blue eyes, staring at him, enrapt as he and yet concerned. Konrad's lips flickered in a stunned smile for a moment, and he nodded. And he stared. Met her gaze with eyes no longer shielded or calculating or filled with cold thoughts and parched of feeling. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Then he looked away. He had a feeling he'd need to know what would happen next.

Don't Make Me Repeat Myself.