With the spectacle changing and people milling to discuss simpler things, Cairee, mind daydreaming about her siblings, heard a voice from behind her.
"Henyeb. Many of my people believe this is a bastardization of Deneb, our patron."
She turned to see Ila, the elven judge that she had spoken to on the first day.
It was almost as if Ila had been reading Cairee's mind. "I was just thinking about this poor nephew, a foot note in a story whose fate is implied but not spoken. Does your order have a different version of the tale? If so I would like to hear it."
"... Does your order have a different version of the tale? If so I would like to hear it."
Ila, "Perhaps it is important to start with something a little more to the origin.
"I am a priest of Deneb. But I am also a follower of all the Exemplars, be they Saiph or Fomalhaut, Aldeberan or Thuban. I look to all eight for wisdom and they all have a common dedication to the self through the powers of the mind.
"For example, Saiph, to my people, is not a god of healing and compassion, but the exemplar of how, even under the most extreme pressure to remain on a path, one can change the universe with a change of mind. Was it not she who threw her sword away? Did this not give hope to Badr that the war between the constellations could end?
"Just as Deneb is not the god of the physical body or the god of messengers as some human clerics suggest. This is reductive. Deneb is the representative of the mind's power over the body to perform beyond what the body alone can do. I cleave my ideal to him more than any other.
"Stories of the time before elves fell to Aerde are all but lost. There are some ancient Uyar stories that say Deneb and Badr fought a star named Ansu. Ansu, who was already powerful, created a mirror that amplified the power of any who looked into it. But the the power collapsed Ansu into a negative version of himself - eating others as they came near.
"We believe that it was Deneb's 'knowledge of self' and control over his own body that allowed him to get close to the mirror and not be changed. To break the mirror and not be distroyed. Badr threw Ansu into that breaking. Some say there are fragments of that mirror throughout the universe, even unto Aerde itself. Some of those particles have been turned to pearls by sea-life and wizards use them to store magic.
"Perhaps that story has let its' truth seep into the stories of all peoples.
"But, please tell me, what is your order like? I have heard of the women and men of Issmenadore to follow Saiph but I know nothing of your church."
Grownya, "Someone linked to a red dragon? A living dragon?!"
Zahra shrugged being unsure, "I met those who called themselves servants of the great red dragon. I had assumed it was a living dragon because why serve someone who is dead?"
The sorceress listened to Roshynduv list of what she knew about dragons and she was both heartened and disheartened at the same time. If push came to shove, how would she ever be able to stand up to Kamzar? There wasn't enough of Silimiel's blood in her body to make a difference against him - although Silimiel's blood did flow through her and that alone was very comforting.
"But you talk like you're in congress with dragons. Like dragons are alive an about you. We haven't heard of a living dragon since before the travel accords with Halidor were signed. Who means to do evil? What part of a, so called 'good', dragon do they have?"
In her haste to find out whatever information she could, Zahra realized that she may have mistepped as she is questioned more specifically. "More like a fantastical wish based on stories I've heard. I've heard stories told where someone had encountered a dragon in human form. Part of me was hoping that maybe they could still be among us even though we wouldn't necessarily know it."
Zahra mentally kicked herself for asking about Silimiel's scale. She thought she had been doing it subtly but she wasn't always good at thinking things through. "I have seen my friend take trophies from creatures he has bested in combat, be it a tooth or a claw or whatever. I was wondering, if by some chance, there was something similar from a dragon would someone want it just as a trophy or could it be used somehow magically? Magically but not in a good way...assuming."
--
Grownya, "I don't - feel powerful, I mean. I feel there is power about me and I am asking it to reveal itself but I don't feel like it's coming from me.
"But you are your blood. Your blood is you. It isn't a coat you wear. I can never really know but it must feel different."
"And that's what makes life so interesting." Zahra smiled, "Experiences that are shared but also different. We hear eachother's stories and can relate on one level but learn on another level. I find that so fascinating and enriching."
"I have seen my friend take trophies from creatures he has bested in combat, be it a tooth or a claw or whatever. I was wondering, if by some chance, there was something similar from a dragon would someone want it just as a trophy or could it be used somehow magically? Magically but not in a good way...assuming."
Roshynduv seemed excited for a moment and then the moment clearly faded. She thought on it for a few beats, "With such a general question the possibilities are limitless, I imagine. The most common use for dragon parts are to create weapons and armour for less powerful and more vulnerable creatures. Scales into suits and shields. Blood to enchant weapons. The like of that.
"I suppose it could be used to help communicate with the dragon passed on or, like bull's hide or dung, used to grant a person strength.
"But, if it's a more mundane item it might very well be used as a trophy in and of itself. Over the mantle or the high seat of the great hall. 'Look at me. I once slew a dragon!'"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
there was now a single yellow jasmine flower Apparently signifying grace and elegance in the language of flowers delicately set in the woman’s hair.
”It suits you,” he whispered with a smile.
The woman paused for a beat and in that moment she was taking the spearman in visually. He was more than what she'd thought. "Yendolyn. People call me Yendolyn." People began to gather about them in a wide circle and some of the porters put down trays and began to clap or stomp their feet in rhythm with the dancing. A drum started to beat heavily.
She slid down with her left leg drawing an arc from two o'clock to five o'clock. Her unsandaled foot was taut and her big toe pointed to lengthen her leg so that it looked like a spear. She pulled her leg in to dart to Tymythy's left and tried to off-balance him by drawing him backwards.
He nearly fell over (though few could tell, his dancing was so responsive everything seemed planned) as she unfolded the scarf and let it out to its' full seven foot length.
She quickly loosened the tension, wrapped the scarf about his free wrist and pulled him upright again. She used the hold to lead the dance and guide his movements like lunges towards her. She backed up to give him room and then released his wrist.
Even with Yendolyn's precise moves and skill, Tymythy was clearly holding his own.
Yendolyn. He would take care to remember it, for the dancer was pushing him past his limits like a master - it was clear enough he would not be emerging victorious from this challenge but there was much to learn here. And such a lesson it was! The beat of the drum, the physical exertion, the scarf connecting the two dancers… everything beyond that small circle faded away, unimportant.
Tymythy grunted as Yendolyn moved him like a master her puppet, tripping him only to pull him back to balance before he had a chance to stumble. Well, two could play that game - he could feel his concentration unraveling so he had to do something to steal back the initiative for a moment.
There! A tumbler rolled past the pair on the floor, perhaps dropped by a careless patron. But it presented a chance and he took it. One boot came down on the silver cup to catch it, before flicking it towards Yendolyn, just as she put down her foot on it, slipping out of balance as Tymythy tried to replicate her previous move and catch her…
… tugging at the scarf to pull her close, one arm extended to catch her at the small of her back to support her… but he could not put enough strength into it and rather than support her while she might have arched her back to extend the move he barely prevented them both from collapsing in a tangle of limbs. It was Yendolyn, not Tymythy, who ended up supporting the pair of them as they regained mutual balance and spun apart once more.
"I have seen my friend take trophies from creatures he has bested in combat, be it a tooth or a claw or whatever. I was wondering, if by some chance, there was something similar from a dragon would someone want it just as a trophy or could it be used somehow magically? Magically but not in a good way...assuming."[dice=Zahra's bluff]1d20+8
[dice=Roshynduv sense motive]1d20+3Roshynduv seemed excited for a moment and then the moment clearly faded. She thought on it for a few beats, "With such a general question the possibilities are limitless, I imagine. The most common use for dragon parts are to create weapons and armour for less powerful and more vulnerable creatures. Scales into suits and shields. Blood to enchant weapons. The like of that.
"I suppose it could be used to help communicate with the dragon passed on or, like bull's hide or dung, used to grant a person strength.
"But, if it's a more mundane item it might very well be used as a trophy in and of itself. Over the mantle or the high seat of the great hall. 'Look at me. I once slew a dragon!'"
Zahra tried to remember everything that had been shared and hoped she could recall it later if necessary. Then something else occurred to her, ”With all the excitement of this talk of dragons, I forgot to ask. Who was it that you spoke with where you heard rumours of my heritage? I’m still learning about my ancestry myself. I would like to speak with them too and see what more they can share with me.”
The dance between Yendolyn and Tymythy continued as they repeated moves so that the lessons of the dance were made solid through repetition. As things slowed and the band tired it was a surprise to them both that the dance had lasted over a half an hour.
A melancholic face fell over Yendolyn. She stopped dancing. The band was tired and people were starting to fade. The full days celebration for the third day in a row was a strain. The dancer pulled Tymythy close and there was a sadness in her eyes.
"I have worked and trained hard for many years," she must have been twice his age, though one wouldn't see it unless they were as close as Tymythy was now, "And I would call myself accomplished ... but I will never be a great as you will one day be. I felt it in our dance. Go with faith, whatever faith you know. Go with trust, in your bones and in your will. Go with conviction, to do whatever must be done." She went on her toes and kissed his cheek, turned suddenly, and walked away.
-
It was a quarter of an hour and that much past the song of eleven when Batbayar reached the others on the mountain top in the cursed rain and vicious wind. Jad, the old woman, opened the door and the team entered arena below. The crowd applauded but it was a pour showing for such courage as it was a tired applause and the people had been decimated by the need for sleep or private company.
The judges and physicians of Deneb rushed to them. The took Khol away on a stretcher. Batbayar did not complain about being seen to, the image was not in clear sight. His fibula was snapped high and sticking at an angle through the flesh of his leg.
The others suffered from poisoning and wounds as well. Whatever healing they received would help but they would not be whole tomorrow when they performed the next challenge.
Rumours flew also about the Hazard Guard having come through the challenge all alive but in such a state that they certainly wouldn't all make it through the next challenge. The Black Birds had been busy at various tasks and hadn't seen the guards perform their run. So the real challenge showed itself. Many, it seemed, could make their way through a challenge or two. The real task was to endure them all.
”With all the excitement of this talk of dragons, I forgot to ask. Who was it that you spoke with where you heard rumours of my heritage? I’m still learning about my ancestry myself. I would like to speak with them too and see what more they can share with me.”
Grwonya, "We were thinking of placing a bet and went to see Nadj. Roshynduv overheard him saying something to the Panotti, who's name I can never remember. The large eared fellow.
"After, we pressed some of the older porters and that herald, Chrizdoff. I don't think it is common knowledge, but the elite of Hallwn's crew are aware, at least a little. Something about an affair at an opera. I doubt they would know more than you.
"Unless you speak to Hallwn, himself. His knowledge seems vast, even though he plays the 'man-about-town'."
Grwonya, "We were thinking of placing a bet and went to see Nadj. Roshynduv overheard him saying something to the Panotti, who's name I can never remember. The large eared fellow.
At first Zahra was surprised, "Do you mean Prem?" But then she remembered that Prem had been betting heavily that she survive during the challenges and so it made sense that he would have been speaking with Nadj. And now that she thought about it, shouldn't Prem had been back already from getting them drinks? Or maybe she was just being overly sensitive since Nadj had said that none of them should go off alone.
The other people they mentioned also made sense. Hallwn's people seemed very well-informed. When they suggested that maybe she should speak with Hallwn himself, Zahra contemplated their words. Would he actually speak with her? The only way to know for sure was to ask and see. Now all she had to do was figure out when to try.
"Saiph, to my people, is not a god of healing and compassion, but the exemplar of how, even under the most extreme pressure to remain on a path, one can change the universe with a change of mind. Was it not she who threw her sword away?"
The rest of the arena fell away as Cairee listened to Ila. She had sorely missed discussing faith and the gods with other devotees. Her relationship with Saiph was powerful and deeply personal. It could also be intense, and at times overwhelming. Finding other followers of any god, hearing their beliefs and stories and experiences and sharing her own - it was like lifting a lid off a pot of boiling water to release a little steam. It also helped her work through her own experiences, forcing her to put into words that which transcended language. She absorbed what Ila was saying thirstily.
"But is it not all the same path? Did Saiph not need to experience the war and violence to truly understand peace and healing? Being able to change ones mind is indeed powerful. But does it change your path, or allow you to see it more clearly?" Her questions were honest, eager, not intending to imply an answer. As she processed what the elf was saying, Cairee couldn't help but think of her own biological call to violence, her rights to a bloody sword she had cast away. Not that she was comparing herself to her goddess! Had she changed paths? If so, was she changing again, moving away from the peaceful callings of the Order? By participating in these games was she forsaking her former self? Or was she seeing her own true path more clearly?
"Stories of the time before elves fell to Aerde are all but lost. There are some ancient Uyar stories that say Deneb and Badr fought a star named Ansu. Ansu, who was already powerful, created a mirror that amplified the power of any who looked into it. But the the power collapsed Ansu into a negative version of himself - eating others as they came near.
"We believe that it was Deneb's 'knowledge of self' and control over his own body that allowed him to get close to the mirror and not be changed. To break the mirror and not be destroyed."
This version of the story sat well in Cairee's heart. She smiled appreciatively. "Thank you for sharing this with me. You are wise to be drawn to such a worthy ideal. I've been struggling with my own idea of self in these challenges. As a healer, what does it mean to compete? Do I really know myself? This story is a light, something to aspire to. What does it take to be able to 'break the mirror', so to speak, and not be destroyed? You've given me much to think on."
"But, please tell me, what is your order like? I have heard of the women and men of Issmenadore to follow Saiph but I know nothing of your church."
Cairee brightened at the opportunity to speak of her home - her true home, not the place she was born but the place she chose and that chose her back. "It's full name is the Ospitiumati Order of Saif. It's relatively new among the orders that worship Saiph. I believe it was started only three generations ago. Our grounds are small and humble. Our home is an old stone warehouse. The main floor was converted into a hospital and the second floor and attic are the priestess' living quarters and school. There's a beautiful garden in the back filled with flowers, vegetables, a duck pond, and benches tucked in quiet corners. All are free to enjoy this space, for healing starts with the soul, and where better to tend your soul than in nature?"
"I suppose we're more of a commune than a proper church. There's are no vows, no daily prayers, no real hierarchy other than the natural one that comes with age and experience. We're made up of mostly humans and a few half-elves. I've heard of other races belonging as well, though I have not yet had the pleasure to meet any. I suppose the only ritual we have is dying our hair bright orange. It's not mandatory, but it feels right to do so - to mark ourselves in some way so others who need our help can find us easily."
"We work together to take care of each other and our patients. We've all felt the call of Saiph and are devoted to serving her through healing. But that can look different from priestess to priestess. Many of my sisters seemed to have stronger healing abilities than me, and effortlessly integrated into the community around us. My connection to Saiph manifested with more of an atunement to the natural world, allowing me to connect with the weather and animals. It seemed strange at the time, though certainly has been very beneficial in my time outside of Issmenadore."
"As well as serving in Issmenadore, the priestess also travel fairly frequently to the towers in the north, especially during harder times. I haven't heard of any traveling as far as I have. It wasn't by choice, but I do feel like I was meant to be here."
"Is there anything else you would like to know?"
"I have worked and trained hard for many years," she must have been twice his age, though one wouldn't see it unless they were as close as Tymythy was now, "And I would call myself accomplished ... but I will never be a great as you will one day be. I felt it in our dance. Go with faith, whatever faith you know. Go with trust, in your bones and in your will. Go with conviction, to do whatever must be done." She went on her toes and kissed his cheek, turned suddenly, and walked away.
”Better than you? Perhaps, if the spirits allow me to live a hundred winters,” Tymythy murmured to Yendolyn’s back, sitting down on his haunches to rest after the exhausting dance... or should he call it a spar? He had managed to keep up with the woman better than he had expected, but it was clear enough which of the two was the master, and which the student.
But what had possessed her to single him out for the lesson? He felt there had been some subtle signs he had missed back when she first made the offer and he almost turned it down, but as to what it might have been, he was too tired to try guessing.
After he had got his breathing back under control Tymythy wandered to one of the innumerable tables laden with food and drink, picked up a pitcher of iced water and poured it on his head, shocking himself out of his exhaustion. He leaned against a wall, dripping water, only to have a servant approach with a clean towel for him to dry himself. What had possessed someone to prepare one and against what eventuality so it could be so quickly produced he could not begin to guess.
Dounia listened to Cairee with half an ear as she talked about religion. She kept her eyes on the lake, and the doors. Even though she was tired - exhausted even - she kept getting prickles of adrenaline as she waited for the orcs.
Finally their door opened, and Dounia let out a holler. The applause was weak due to the late hour, but Dounia did her best to make it up in volume and enthusiasm. That team had been incredible, and she was so grateful that they had picked that door first. Surely the wyvern and the mountain would have killed them.
When she saw Batbayar being tended to, his bone still sticking through his leg, she surprised herself by bursting into tears.
She grabbed Cairee by the arm and said to the others, "Time for bed. And Zahra has something to tell us."
"But is it not all the same path? Did Saiph not need to experience the war and violence to truly understand peace and healing? Being able to change ones mind is indeed powerful. But does it change your path, or allow you to see it more clearly?"
Ila, "I often wonder about this. Suffering is to be avoided but isn't it the greatest tool for the strengthening of the self. How close must one come to to the crucible? How do we find equanimity with our enemies without becoming them? Especially the truly cruel and malicious."
"Thank you for sharing this with me ... what does it mean to compete? Do I really know myself? ... What does it take to be able to 'break the mirror', so to speak, and not be destroyed? You've given me much to think on."
Ila, "It's rude to guess at what a stranger has gone through, but It seems like you have broken a mirror already. I'd like to think you have and it feeds your wisdom. You seem very adept for someone so young."
"It's full name is the Ospitiumati Order of Saif. It's relatively new among the orders that worship Saiph ... Our grounds are small and humble ... for healing starts with the soul, and where better to tend your soul than in nature? ... I suppose we're more of a commune than a proper church ... My connection to Saiph manifested with more of an atunement to the natural world, allowing me to connect with the weather and animals ... the priestess also travel fairly frequently to the towers in the north, especially during harder times. I haven't heard of any traveling as far as I have. It wasn't by choice, but I do feel like I was meant to be here ... Is there anything else you would like to know?"
Ila, "It is remarkable and a gift lost to the world that the Uyar and humankind no longer walk together. Even my people have been so lost in tradition that, perhaps, we have lost a deeper personal contact with the Exemplars. Orders like yours are reminding us, not of a deeper way, but of another authentic way.
"It is hard for my people though. An aeon ago, we once walked with them. When we fell, we fell far. Your order gives me hope.
"All I would like to know is what is, again, rude to ask. What will you do next? Should you survive these competitions, where will you go?"
Tyerror looked up from the centre of the arena and nodded to the tired Tymythy. His quality was easy to read 'My family must be tended to. Perhaps we will talk tomorrow about our trials.'
"Do you mean Prem?"
Prem appeared, "Did you need me? My wings were burning. sorry, you looked deep in conversation. I didn't want to interrupt Ladies!" He bowed deeply and in northern fashion with his right leg forward and calf muscle exposed. "I've come back too late. It seems everyone is leaving. Shall I walk you to your suite before I retire?"
Indeed, the crowd was thinning out.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"I often wonder about this. Suffering is to be avoided but isn't it the greatest tool for the strengthening of the self. How close must one come to to the crucible? How do we find equanimity with our enemies without becoming them? Especially the truly cruel and malicious."
A memory flashed in Cairee's mind - the rope bridge in Al'hufra. The Commander angrily kicking a rioter into the pit. The cleric had questioned her faith then. Did all beings deserve Saiph's comfort and healing? Even monsters like the Commander? She had thought perhaps men like him deserved to feel the gods' wrath. But would that not lead her a little closer to becoming like him? But wasn't doing nothing equally damning?"It is strangely comforting to know others ponder these contradictions. It reminds me of something my mentor used to say. We are alone, together."
"It's rude to guess at what a stranger has gone through, but It seems like you have broken a mirror already. I'd like to think you have and it feeds your wisdom. You seem very adept for someone so young."
Cairee flushed at the compliment, feeling unworthy of such praise. She bowed her head. "Thank you for saying so. I will strive to live up to your gracious opinion of me."
"All I would like to know is what is, again, rude to ask. What will you do next? Should you survive these competitions, where will you go?"
Should you survive... Cairee had been thinking in terms of winning or losing. Not about surviving. Can we all survive three more challenges? She thought of the wyvern attacking the Orcs on the mountainside. She wasn't sure.
"I'm...not quite sure. I feel like our experiences in these challenges would likely alter our course. But then again, we aren't meant to remember. Will we walk out of this arena and think and feel exactly how we did right before we walked in? If so, I imagine I'll send word to my Order that I'll be staying in Zhayalammar for a while. My friends have some unfinished business, and I think I can help."
---
She grabbed Cairee by the arm and said to the others, "Time for bed. And Zahra has something to tell us."
Cairee cheered with the others as the Orcs staggered through the door. Then she let Dounia lead her to their rooms. "I have some information to share as well."
...Shall I walk you to your suite before I retire?
Zahra smiled with relief as Prem rejoined their conversation. Everyone was safe and no one was alone. "That would be lovely, thank you."
Tyerror looked up from the centre of the arena and nodded to the tired Tymythy. His quality was easy to read 'My family must be tended to. Perhaps we will talk tomorrow about our trials.'
Tymythy returned the nod, released from his continued vigil by the orcs’ return. It was natural for Tyerror to want to put family first after such a challenge. He wondered if there still remained enough a spark in Khol’s heart for the healers to coax back into flame… he had felt the touch of their power first-hand and knew it flowed true, but then again, the fate of the dwarven team had shown there were injuries beyond their ken.
His thoughts went back to the orcs’ final battle against the wyvern. It would be good if their host’s healers could bring the woman back to the realm of the living, as she was still young, with much life ahead of her… but a part of Tymythy felt a stab of jealousy towards her. Her final stand against the wyrmling had been… inspiring. The kind of death every young warrior hoped to one day meet.
Fighting against impossible odds? Yet still achieving victory? While defending her kin, so the fight had meaning. And the manner of the blow used to strike down her foe had been flashy enough that the skalds that later told the tale wouldn’t even need to embellish things. It was the perfect doom, if ever there was one. Something Tymythy could only hope to manage to approach, when came the day for him to put down his spear for the last time.
ooc] Close... human favored enemy bonus applies, perhaps?[/ooc]
Joining Perm and the ladies as they started making their way back to the team’s apartment, Tymythy happened to note the preening fool who had taken it his task to torment Perm lingering to share a glass of wine with one of the ladies of both the Silken Scrolls and the Aureolus, heads held close as they exchanged whispers. An amorous adventure in the making? No… upon a closer look the Aureolus lady had the look of a ambassador from a clan far mightier than the one she had been sent to, while the Silken Scroll woman reeked of desperation – her team had dropped out of the competition, perhaps explaining her need to salvage something out of the situation… and the Kingsunworthy had the look of a innocent hero of the masses slighted by the fate itself for absolutely no reason at all.
”That won’t bode well,” Tymythy murmured, discreetly directing the ladies’ attention to the strange threesome plotting away.
The Blackbirds went back to their suite with Prem accompanying them to the door. He bowed in the northern fashion to take leave for his own room with the painted door of the laughing giant. Cyn and E'gama lingered for a moment outside The Blackbird's door.
Cyn's shoulders relaxed as she lightly sniffed the air, "OK. What's going on. Something's up somebody's smokestack."