S’era gazed upon the sword with the sun setting in the horizon behind it in silence. It was another day for rest, another day to gather herself. Yet S’era’s heart could not be tamed. Fury still coursed through her veins. Hatred gripped her heart like an accursed hand. Her tribe rejoiced in the complete annihilation of the shelled men, the Garleans, but there was no joy for her. Thanalan’s thirst for blood had been quenched, but not hers. Her beloved S’tage was still dead, the ones responsible for that have passed beyond the veil as well– she made sure of that. Yet her heart still yearned for revenge, her soul still ached for justice. With the shelled men all dead or gone, could she ever truly know peace? For years she’s devoted her life to their destruction, and despite drenching the land in their vile blood, she found no peace from her torment.
Perhaps she was broken. Perhaps Azeyma Herself was punishing her for going against the decree of her tribe’s former matron. She was not of the warrior caste yet she bore their scars and spilled blood in their name all the same. Would the Goddess really rebuke her for such acts? She never had a more loyal servant, truly?
S’era closed her eyes and listened to the distant celebrations far below. Eventually she would have to join them, lest they go searching for her and discover this grave. A brave face is what she needed– soon– but not now. Now she struggled with her inner demons, and for the first time in her life since taking up the sword she no longer had a clear goal to pursue. The shelled men have been driven from their castrums, their homelands burned, their people scattered. No longer would their children hide in fear of their golems of steel and flame! No longer would their black helmets haunt their dreams! Today should be a day to celebrate, should it not? The great enemy of the Miqo’te has been brought low by Azeyma’s chosen people, never to return and taint the badlands of Thanalan ever again. Surely this should make her happy.
But it didn’t. S’era was cursed to know no peace from this hatred until she was capable of letting it go. IF she was capable of letting it go, that is. For now she would have to find more enemies of her tribe to slaughter… or perhaps this maddening hatred would leave her once she did what she was destined to do– settle down and help bring more children into the world. Her Nunh, S’vahli, was not a terrible ruler by any means… she could provide him with fierce daughters, surely. However the thought of that only seemed to make her angry. Thinking made her angry. Kneeling here made her angry.
Perhaps it was time to return to the others and revel with her family.
The Black Shroud was unusually quiet. Normally the singing of birds overhead could be heard in the canopy, or the warning calls of opo-opos alerting their troupe of potential dangers. Yet despite it being midday and along an old beaten path, there were no animals around at all. He couldn’t quite place his finger on this terrible feeling… maybe it was instinct, maybe intuition. The hairs on the back of his neck were stiff, and his tail was bristling; the sooner they left this area and started stumbling across animals again, the better. K'thalen stopped so abruptly the humming girl trotting behind him bumped into his back with a thud. “Oof…! What’s the big idea?” Coroh grumbled, rubbing her nose as she stepped to his side. Her grimace dropped once she saw the piercing glare on his face. It wasn't until she followed his frozen gaze did her heart stop and her stomach drop.
Two merchant wagons were overturned and destroyed, with one of them burning and all the chocobos dead and butchered. There were hyur and elezen bodies everywhere--at least a dozen people, some older than K’thalen, with a few even younger than Coroh. None of these poor souls died well either, with one woman in particular that looked like she dragged half of her body across the grass trying to reach someone else. K'thalen hadn't seen such merciless brutality in decades; and with a gentle pull of his hand, he guided Coroh back behind him, hoping this memory wouldn't forever mar her psyche forever. "What happened here…?" She asked with a raspy whisper, seemingly unable to catch her breath after witnessing such a gruesome spectacle. K’thalen didn't answer– instead he slowly began to back away, holding onto her shoulder to stop her from looking.
His heart sank when a wagon popped open, and out stepped a man covered in blood, still adjusting the belt on his pants; inside the overturned cabin was a naked woman recently slain--and by the contorted rage still lingering on her swollen face and the terror in her blackened eyes, she too did not go down without a fight. "What do we have here?" The man asked, spitting into the grass as he took a step closer. He pushed two fingers into his mouth and let loose a sharp and wet whistle, causing several others to emerge from the nearby shadows.
"Just travelers passing by." Was all K’thalen said, keeping his eyes locked onto the man while his ears turned independently of each other to keep track of his buddies; they were surrounded, and the last thing he wanted was something terrible and irreversible to happen to the girl.
"Travelers…" The man repeated, wiping the blood from his face with a filthy rag retrieved from his pocket. "You're a long way from town."
"He's armed." A Roegadyn warned, tightening his grip on a huge battleaxe that was still dripping with blood.
"It ain't loaded." Shrugged the man. "They rarely are. And even if it was, well… doubt he has enough." He smacked his lips as he leaned over to the side, catching a glimpse of Coroh. "You shouldn't be here, girly. This is no place for angels."
"She’s so beautiful…" Called out another, this one from his left. "Look how soft and fluffy that tail is…" A shiver ran up her spine as she clung to K'thalen, almost pushed up against his side like she was desperate for warmth. He could feel her trembling, but he said nothing– his mind was racing for a way out of this precarious situation.
"From where I'm standing you have two options." The man adjusted his pants while he stared down K'thalen with malice in his bloodshot eyes. "You keep walking and live… and we take her. Or you fight back and die… and we take her." They reeked of death, of lust, and of filth. The Woodsin permeated off their skin like a foul musk, threatening to choke the two Miqo'te caught in the middle of this nightmare. "So? What will it be?"
"One Hyur with a sword, two Roegadyn, one with an axe, the other unarmed. One crossbow wielding Viera, and whatever is behind us." K’thalen clenched his jaw with a hundred different possibilities; his heart slammed against his chest and he couldn't hide his fear for much longer– all he could think about was what they were planning to do with the girl. "Coroh." His voice was barely a whisper but it startled her all the same. "Soon as I move… run. As hard n'as fast as ya can." One of his ears turned behind them, hearing the faint crunching of the grass as the bandit crept closer.
“Last chance!” The man spat, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his sword. “What’s it gonna-”
K’thalen shot his hand up, grabbed the butt of his rifle, and in one fluid motion he whipped around to face the biggest threat; the enemy Elezen had just enough time to drop the knife in his grasp and gawk at the end of the barrel! BLAM! In an instant his blue eyes and the top half of his head disappeared in a bright flash and turned into jellied paste! K’thalen didn't hesitate– he turned back and went after the next biggest threat! BLAM! The Roegadyn dropped his axe and crumbled to the floor, with a ceruleum slug entering his chest with an ilm-wide hole and leaving his back with a four ilm-wide exit– taking his heart along with it!
"RUUUN!!!" He didn't stop to look down at Coroh, but he heard her panicked breath and the scurry of her feet! A sharp pain burrowed into his shoulder, a stone arrow shot from the Viera pinned his arm to his waist near the elbow! Even amidst his stagger he shot from the hip! BLAM! His shot was off the mark from aiming with one hand, but he still took the archer at the knee and sent him rolling and tumbling down the hill!
"AAAAHHH!!! THALEN HEEEELP!!!" Her ear-piercing shriek pulled him away from the next threat to see the other Roegadyn grabbed her by the tail and yanked her to the ground!
"Come here gorgeous!" He held her down with one giant hand and tightened his fingers along the stitches of her tunic to tear it off! "Just a taste…!" He cackled, high from his lust! "Just a-"
BLAM!
The back of his head split open like a crushed melon, causing the Corpse to collapse on top of the terrified girl! K’thalen turned back just in time to block a thrusting stab from the Hyur with his rifle, but the force still caused him to stagger! Tripping on the Elezen’s corpse, he fell back hard, knocking the wind from his body! The Hyur jumped on top of him, discarding the sword lodged into the rifle in an attempt to clamp his hands around his throat!
They rolled with each other further down the incline, stopping only once they slammed into the overturned wagon– disoriented and still trying to catch his breath, K’thalen was unable to stop the man from climbing back on top of him, this time keeping his arrowed-arm from interfering by planting his knee over it! K’thalen pulled a knife from his waist and thrust upwards, desperately trying to find purchase somewhere in his chest, but he caught it with both hands!
"Aargh!!!" K’thalen roared like a trapped animal, summoning all his strength into his arm to prevent the Hyur from turning his wrist– but it was not enough! "RAAAAAGH!!!"
"Shhhh!" Cooed the man, smiling fiendishly as he overpowered him! Saliva dripped from his lips as he exhaled through his mouth, with two empty green eyes wide with murderous intent glaring down at him! "It’s almost over. It's almost over." The edge of the blade scraped across the iron buckle on his coat in its way to align with his heart, and the Hyur then leaned forward to begin pushing it into his chest! All K’thalen could do was kick and squirm beneath the man in a desperate rage, but he was out of options; his eyes widened with fear and pain as he felt the cold steel piercing his skin, plunging deeper and deeper into him! The man’s grin grew from ear to ear while he watched the panic in his eyes, the one last moment for a dead man!
“HURK!”
In an instant the man was off him, slumping over onto his side after what sounded like bones snapping filled K’thalen’s ears; he let out a painful gasp, instantly pulling the knife out and tossing it away as he laid there in shock. He could hear the sound of metal striking flesh, and he slowly looked over with bloodshot eyes to see Coroh over the Hyur; she raised a dented and bloodied frying pan over her head before bringing it down onto the man’s face, again, and again, and again. The man no longer had much of a face by the time K’thalen had summoned enough strength to roll over onto his stomach and rise to his feet.
“Coroh…” He coughed, rubbing at his chest wound– if it weren’t for Coroh wiggling free of that Roegadyn he shot and grabbing something heavy enough to help, he would have been a goner. Slowly he took a few steps forward, before collapsing onto his knees again. That snapped the girl out of her frenzy… she blinked as her senses returned, and she dropped her murder weapon before rushing over to his aid.
“Are you okay…?” She asked, even as the tunic she was wearing was torn and destroyed. Blood covered her face from the bludgeoning, but she didn’t even notice– she slipped underneath his good arm and hoisted him back onto his feet. K’thalen was about to pass out from the exhaustion… or at least he would have, if it weren’t for the faint cries coming from the other side of the overturned wagon. His eyes widened as he struggled forward, hope flashing in his eyes at the possibility of a survivor from these depraved bandits; but as they rounded the corner, his hope was replaced with hate.
The Viera was clinging to his ruined leg that was hanging on only by a few tendons. He was in pain trying to move, trying to escape. He looked up at the two Miqo’te and raised a bloodied hand. “W-wait..! Don’t kill me, please! I-I-I’m new…! I didn’t kill any of these folks! Honest! I was just following orders… p-p-please…!”
K’thalen didn’t speak. He planted a boot on his rifle and pulled hard on the sword stuck inside, eventually freeing it with a grunt and a stumble. Slow steady breaths filled his lungs to calm himself, with enough strength returned to allow him to walk by himself. He picked up his rifle and brushed off the dirt and mud. Coroh stepped aside as he approached the wounded bandit again, who was still trying to beg for his life. “N-n-no! Please! Wait!”
Click!
Empty. K’thalen was already reaching into his coat pocket to reload despite the Viera flinching hard enough to soil himself. “Thal…” Coroh warned, gently placing a hand on his wounded arm. He stopped to look down at the girl, before following her gaze; up on the hill was a diremite, staring down at them with eight glistening eyes.
“The Woodsin really is real…” K’thalen clenched his jaw as he shouldered his rifle. He didn’t like the idea of these innocent folks becoming bug food, but there were no survivors. The Viera noticed the diremite skittering down to investigate further, followed by three or four more of the vilekin.
“Wait! Don’t leave me with them!” He begged, but his voice fell on deaf ears. “WAIT! WAAAAIT! AAAAUGH!”
K’thalen and Coroh hobbled away long after they could no longer hear his screams.
“I’ve outlived every single person I’ve ever loved.”
He was halfway through a long drag of his cigarette when it dawned on him. His father, his brother, his lover, his friends– all gone, all dead. Today was K’thalen’s 35th nameday as well… making him older than even his own father when he was killed. His eyes flickered and shimmered for just a moment, frozen in time and unable to do, say, or think of anything. Then the moment passed. He blinked, he exhaled, and then he watched the silver cloud of smoke flee from his nose to scatter into the crisp desert air. Namedays were never anything to celebrate, not for K’thalen at least; for him it was just another year further from his birth and closer to his death. Another day of working… another day of drinking… another day of dead memories.
The sudden tapping on his hat and shoulders was so gentle and welcoming, and it could only mean one thing. He glanced over to his left to witness travelers and merchants alike running for shelter against the rain, but they were too late; by the time they realized what was happening, the showers came pouring from the starless sky to turn the dust bowl known as Thanalan into a mud hole instead. Not three heartbeats later and the man was soaked, feeling the warm desert rain seeping through his jacket. He didn’t bother running for shelter however– a storm this sudden and violent wouldn’t last. Instead he pinched his cigarette between his lips and breathed deep, filling his lungs with just the poison he needed tonight. A quick reach into his coat pocket reminded him of his missing canteen… which meant no drinking until tomorrow morning. That was a pity.
“Fuckin’ Augusta…” He muttered under his breath to no one. The spunky girl must have swiped it from him right before his smoke break! She was determined to help him quit drinking it seemed… whether he was willing or not. “Promise s’a promise.” He closed his eyes and took another long drag, puffing out smoke as he crossed his arms and stared down at his own boots. He did ask for her help to get him to quit drinking, but now he risked being completely sober by the time he would crawl out of bed on the morrow. Sober K’thalen was angry… and bitter… and depressed. Alcohol helped keep his memories just hazy enough to ignore. But he couldn’t outrun his demons forever.
The Tia that dashed his father’s head upon that tree was likely long dead by now. No Nunh, large or small, has ever held that title for over twenty years; and that also applies to the Nunh that brutally butchered his brother right in front of him. The pirate bastard that shot his one true love was having his bones picked clean at the bottom of the briny deep, he was sure of that when piracy was outlawed in La Noscea. But that still left a dozen or so friends rotting in their graves without recompense. No, the murderers that took their lives still resides among the living– breathing the same air, drinking the same water…
It was the Black Adder Boys. Traitors one and all. Butcherers, thieves, and even worse. The absolute lowest scum of this star and all others in the great dark beyond! Just thinking about them made K’thalen’s blood boil; he didn’t even notice biting his cigarette in half until buckled under the pressure and fell apart on its way down to the rain-soaked mud. He blinked again and regained his composure, choosing to simply spit out the remains instead of trying to salvage it for later. “They’ll have their day in the sun…” He thought to himself, gazing up at the giant crystal in the center of town. All he needed to do was find where their hideout was… a clue, a hint– any slip up on their end would reveal their tracks. But these monsters were trained by the Twin Adders of Gridania– many of whom trained directly under K’thalen himself. The ones in charge knew what they were doing… so he couldn’t count on them making any mistakes. Still… he knew they had to be here in Thanalan. That was enough to keep hope that he would root them out of their hiding place sooner than later. “They can’t rest until all y’all are burning in the bleakest, darkest, foulest pit of the hells. So we can’t rest neither.”
Special thanks to @daily-writing-challenge for making this challenge in the first place. For some reason I decided to check tumblr just on time to start these!
Coroh stood in front of her mirror for what felt like ages. She couldn’t stop staring at herself– the pearl-white gown flowing down her figure, the crown of flowers adoring her head, how the soft sunlight bathed her dressing room in an angelic glow– all of it was perfect. And yet… she felt incomplete. Inept. Disappointing.
“Why is this happening to me?”
A year ago she was just a lonely woman surviving with a roving band of homicidal bandits, fearing every time she closed her eyes to catch some sleep would be the moment she awoke with one of them pinning her to the grass and having their way with her. She was afraid for Thalen’s life when he took that sword to the shoulder and was fighting for his life in a prison cell, waiting for the hangman’s noose. She was at rock bottom, robbing innocent merchants at gunpoint so she could eat, breaking into houses to steal just enough soap to bathe, and taking any job she could find for money until they discovered she was homeless and kicked her out.
And then she met Leo. Interested the first day he approached her despite being so nervous and sweaty, smitten when he told her his name with a voice that cracked twice, and infatuated the day he ran his trembling hands across her back at the end of their first date. He wasn’t the gritty and dangerous man she’s surrounded herself with for an entire year prior, nor was he the stoic and silent man she was obsessed with before that. He was kind, and sweet, and gentle, and the morning after they shared a bed together, she realized just how safe she felt in his arms. That’s when she knew he was the one.
“Miss Veldha?” A soft voice called from the other side of the door. “Is something amiss? Do you need assistance?”
“No no, I’m coming.” Coroh called back, adjusting her bra and swiping up the bouquet of flowers before turning on her heel to leave.
Click, clack, click, clack
The sound of her heels was distractingly loud in the empty hallway. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she could feel herself trembling; was she afraid or just nervous? Under her gown she was sweating but incredibly cold, with her lunch sitting like a rock in her churning stomach. Her gaze shot to the door leading out of the cathedral and her instincts told her to run! Her first thought was to run away and never look back, to escape from this anxious dream! But what would Leo think? How would he handle the love of his life abandoning him at the altar? Guilt and shame coiled around her chest like a serpent, turning the already laborious chore of breathing into an all-out struggle. Then she felt weak and light-headed. If this continued any longer she would faint!
She turned the corner to the sound of Leo gasping and covering his mouth. He looked amazing in his pure white suit, dressed sharp enough to kill a man. His fiery red hair was combed a hundred times and neatly trimmed, with a single blue rose resting beneath his ear. And he looked like he was about to cry.
"Coco…" his voice was but a trembling whisper. They turned to stand shoulder to shoulder but he never took his eyes off her. "You are… breathtaking."
She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, but she did her best to ignore the tingling in her face, as well as his blissful stare. "You aren't half bad yourself." She could hear the smile in his voice as he let out a nervous sigh, causing her to smile too. Then they stood in silence, staring at the door as voices shouted on the other side. "I'm not scared anymore…!" She realized, taking a quick peek at his polished white shoes; she had to visualize those before they were stained forever. Coroh was still nervous of course, and still trembling… but standing so close to him again caused all her fears to scatter.
A shiver ran up her spine once she heard the music rising, and the tall doors unlocked to slowly swing open.
"I'm right here." Leo reassured her, drawing her gaze. He couldn't stop smiling and his eyes were brimming with tears. "Now and always."
They call it a Grrangr. A gathering of Nunhs to plan a course of action that no single tribe can perform themselves– a moot to decide the future of the Miqo’te living in Thanalan. There were only six nunhs in attendance but several hundred surrounded the secluded clearing on the side of the mountain facing westward, so they could watch the bountiful sun slip beneath the horizon for his brief slumber… a great place for meditation, if they were here for less pressing matters.
“We cannot defeat them.” T’ketchu of the Condor Tribe spoke first to break the chorus of whispers behind him. “The walls of Ul’dah are too high and too thick. Their armies are well fed and armored. Defying them can only mean death for our people. It’s as simple as that.”
A patronizing snort on his left caught his attention, and up rose J’mindi the Gnarled. “Only a fool would strike a hulking giant across the nose. There are other ways of dealing with the halfling city… ones that are far more… subtle.”
“You mean poison.” R’yaach the White Maw crossed his arms over his wide chest before spitting into the dirt. “Am I surrounded by cravens? What glory is there in such cowardice?!”
S’vahli the Hrothblood rubbed at the bridge of his nose as soon as the uproar started; they couldn’t go five whole minutes before they started hurling insults at each other. He did his best to drown out their incessant howling, focusing on the flickering bonfire and the dancing shadows. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes to block out the noise but it was no use; every passing moment of their uproar was filling him with anxious dread, his body physically reacting in ways he couldn't afford right now.
Yelling turned to screaming. Metal tubes and iron clamps. Needles, needles, needles. Round eared monsters with three eyes staring, watching, observing. Pain unmatched. Glass prison. Knives sever the flesh. Syringes pumping poison. Fear and rage and hatred. Kill to be free. Kill to be silent. Kill. Kill. Kill. KILL! KILL! KILL! KI-!
A tiny hand gripped his shoulder and the nightmare receded back to the corner of his mind. S'vahli turned to meet S'era's soothing gaze… two sparkling eyes deep and blue enough to drown in. Only now did he realize he was trembling and sweating. He half-expected her to scold him for his strange behavior, but she didn't; all she did was hold his shoulder and steal his attention until the trembling stopped. "I should tell her." He thought, even as shame washed over him. "She deserves to know what they did to me." But no sooner did he open his mouth to speak did the shouting match between the other nunhs suddenly fall silent.
Tap, tap, tap!
Everyone dropped to their knees and bowed. Everyone.
A woman whose flesh turned into bone with even the slightest injury stirred for the first time in forty summers. A large crown of bleached goat horns and antlers sat slanted on her head, adorned with heavy chains of gold and amber. Paralyzed from head to toe, her face was permanently facing the north star, so she could gaze upon the cosmos and commune with both Azeyma and Menphina. Wiser than all, and far older than anyone could possibly fathom, she was the greatest treasure and best kept secret the Seekers of the Sun tribes had. Miraan the Eldest has her life prolonged by mystical and divine power, and despite how delicate and helpless she has become, it was in all likelihood a certainty she would outlive everyone here.
"This mountain… is holy… our ways… are ancient." Her voice was barely a whisper, but every word carried the weight of the world. "To spill blood… in this place… without first… declaring a… Urru'thun… is sacrilege. It is… known."
"It is known." They all repeated, settling down… for now.
"S’era… Firstborn Daughter… of Rarku the… Red…” She paused to catch her breath– every inhale sounded like splintering wood. “Tell them… your plan.”
She stiffened at the sound of her name; not once has she met Miraan the Eldest, but she not only knew her name, but also her title? Slowly she glanced over and met S’vahli’s gaze, before rising to her feet and straightening out her back and shoulders. “You are all right to fear reprisal from Ul’dah and the other free cities. Even with our combined strength we could not outlast them in an all-out war. We have the numbers, this is true… but they have powerful magick, and the Warrior of Light on their side. Facing them in open field would be suicide.” A few nunhs nodded in agreement as subtle whispers echoed in the crowd sitting before her. “They know they could crush us if they willed it… but it would also cause unrest and chaos within their walls by the Miqo’te living there. They cannot attack us directly until we deal the first blow, so instead they mean to drive away our hunting game and starve us out.”
R’yaach the White Maw spat into the dirt again. “Cowards and traitors.”
“Be that as it may…” S’era continued, shooting him a furtive glance. “I have a solution that can resolve this conflict peacefully. Or at the very least… get them off our backs and out of our lands.” That certainly caught their interest, but only a stark few seemed to care for what she had to say. “Our answer lies in the Shelled Men. Along the coast deep in Amal’jaa territory lies an incomplete castrum that was serving as an armory before their armies were scattered. If Ul’dah will not listen to the Miqo’te through reason, we will make them listen with a display of force. Tribes gathering near their towns with magitek weapons are sure to get their attention.”
“Your plan is to threaten them? They will slaughter everyone involved and tighten their grip on the rest of our necks!” Cried out a tribewife from the crowd, a babe to her breast. “Suicide!” Cried another from the opposite direction. “Madness!”
“WE ARE STARVING!” S’era shouted at the top of her lungs to get them to shut up. “Your children… our children are going hungry! There isn’t enough meat to survive through the winter! We can’t rely on raiding merchant wagons for food! If any of you fools have a better idea then let’s hear it!”
I’vazu Stone Tongue rose first, clutching his walking stick and grunting from the still-fresh wounds on his stomach from defending his breeding rights against a Tia just yesterday. “The halflings will not take threats idly. We should instead barter… learn what they want and offer a trade!”
“COWARD!” Another shouted, causing the wounded man to flinch. He turned red in the face as he spun around to face the direction of that accusation.
“Who said that?! Speak up and face my wrath-aaugh…!” He clenched his teeth in pain and his legs almost buckled; this was going nowhere fast.
Miraan the Eldest opened her eyes. Pale blue pearls that glimmered like the stars in the night sky– gazing into them was like gazing into the cosmos, the realm of the very gods. “They are… outsiders. They have… no respect… for the land. Look at… Mor Dhona… as proof of… their greed. We Miqo’te… have given them… enough. It… is known.”
“It is known.” They all repeated again, some less enthusiastically than others.
“She is right.” S’era added. “Anything we have that they value will be picked off our corpses once we start dropping from starvation. Or perhaps they want us to kill each other off competing for food? If we do not stand united, we will die divided. This is the plan. You will follow the Zu Tribe to prosperity or you will be left behind to rot.”
“Who made you the leader of our people?” E’zohl the Howler finally spoke up, unable to remain silent any longer. “The Zu Tribe angers Ul’dah the most. Why not throw yourself at their stone tents and rid us all of your reckless stupidity!”
S’era barely looked in his direction, but pointed her finger directly at him all the same. “We are among the few brave enough to stand up to them. I don’t see the Eft Tribe doing much of anything these days. Terrified of creatures half your size?”
“Bite your tongue and drown on your blood!” E’zohl snapped, earning her undivided attention. “You are no nunh! You are no elder either! You are just a tribewife pretending to be some self-appointed savior! You are no warrior! Go back to your hut and spread your legs, as is your duty!”
“I’ll take your tongue for that!” S’vahli shot up to his feet, but S’era raised a hand to calm him down.
“When the time comes for us to march on the shelled men’s sanctum, you will answer the call.” She declared with a threatening calmness. “Or the Zu will destroy you.”
“You forget your place!” E’zohl rose to stand, his warriors rising behind him; S’era’s warrior sisters returned the gesture, and now two tribes were at each other’s throats once more. “The Eft Tribe will see you bloated in the sand before we march to our deaths! This I vow!”
“You vow?!” Eyes flaring, teeth clenched, ears pinned down, and tail bristling, S’era shouted back, “THEN I DECLARE URRU’THUN ON THE EFT TRIBE! SEND OUT YOUR GREATEST CHAMPION, E’ZOHL, I KNOW YOU ARE FAR TOO MUCH A COWARD TO FACE ME YOURSELF!”
U’tova Thenn was almost out of breath by the time she caught up with those bounty hunters her boss was chatting up a storm with. The big redheaded Hyur was not the man she was looking for, nor the pompous Ishgardian archer, nor the intimidating Roegadyn pugilist. No, she was looking for the Miqo’te who was calling the shots. The man who made sure everyone was geared up and ready for work. The man with olive brown skin, deep scars across his face, piercing yellow eyes and a deep voice almost as thick as mud. Just thinking about him made her heart flutter– but now was not the time to be daydreaming; she wasn’t here for his autograph– she was here for his help.
They were held up at the Silver Bazaar. U’tova knew this because all the ships were stuck in the docks, waiting for the approaching storm to pass over before they took to the sea. Bounty hunters and rougher folk filled the courtyard with rowdy voices and obscene limericks as she walked past. If this many people were clogging the walkways then that meant the only tavern was likely filled to capacity. Her target was outside, she was certain. Then she saw them, the ones that bought out most of the ammunition she made for her job, scattered along the staircase leading up to a seemingly empty balcony. As soon as she approached, the rowdy hyur put on a huge smile and rose from his sleeping mat. “GUN GIRL!” He laughed, storming up to her; her eyes widened and she clutched her package tightly, halfway expecting a huge hug from a huge hyur, but instead his big hand ruffled her hair. “What are you doing here?! Come to give me a better deal?!”
“I’m here for K.” She calmly answered, batting at his fingers to get him to give her some space. “Where can I find him? Is he asleep, or…?”
He jutted a thumb up the stairs. “He likes to watch the sunset. You’ll find him up there. Oh– do you need a drink? You’ve traveled so far!”
U’tova shook her head and ducked under his extended arm. “I’m only nineteen!” She hurried past the others and ignored their inquisitive glances, not stopping for anyone else. Eventually she slowed down at the top of the stairs lest she be out of breath again, her head poking up to look around to spot him before he spotted her.
And there he was. Resting on the edge of the balcony with two empty bottles beside him and a third one in his hand. He turned his head slightly in her direction to let her know he was aware of her presence, but as soon as she started moving closer, he returned to his drinking and watching the sunset. “What can I do ya fer, darlin’?”
“I…” For a moment she forgot what she was even about to ask once she heard his voice again. “You are the bounty hunters that came into my shop this afternoon.”
“Aye, and yer the girl who sold us them rifles.” K’thalen took a swig of his drink and continued. “Why’re ye here? Don’t tell me we ain’t paid ye ‘nough.”
She took great caution in her choice of words. She took a deep breath to get her composure before leading him to his answer. “You are bounty hunters… hunting a very dangerous gang.” He didn’t answer, only choosing to take another swig of his drink as he listened in silence. “To my understanding you’re going after the Black Adder Boys.”
“And?” He finally asked, turning to look up at her with his piercing yellow eyes.
“And… I want to help you.”
“‘Fraid not, lil’lady. Roster’s full.” He turned his attention back to the sunset and took another swig. By this rate he would be on his next bottle in just a few minutes. “The bounty fer their heads is already split five ways. Anymore n’it won’t be worth it.”
She gave him an indignant glare. “I don’t care about gil, if that’s the deal breaker. All I ask is to eat alongside everyone else. I can repair your firearms too if that’s the cost for accompan-”
“I’m stoppin’ ya right there.” At last he set the bottle down and rose to his full height to tower over her; she didn’t realize just how tall he was… and staring up into his judgy eyes was making her feel weak again. “Our job… our profession… it ain’t no place fer a dainty lil’thing like ya. Them Black Adder Boys’ll chew ya up n’spit ye out, if’n yer lucky. I bet ye can imagine what some greasy bastards like ‘em would do to a girl such as yerself.”
“I don’t need that image…” She curtly responded, pursing her lips. “And I’m no fool. But I can handle myself.”
“Ever kill a man before?”
The question caught her off guard, but his burdening gaze forced her to answer truthfully. “N-no… not yet…”
“Best ye be on yer way then. Can’t afford to have some rookie tag along with us, aye? Go on… off with ya.” He waved his hand dismissively before sitting down with an exhausted grunt, but she didn’t move an ilm. He glanced over at her legs and let out an irritated sigh. “Why do ye wanna be a bounty hunter so bad anyroad? It ain’t an easy job, girly. Most folks don’t make it a full year ‘fore they’re killed takin’ a job they shouldn’t have.”
“They killed my pa.” U’tova blurted it out, making him pause mid-sip. “They tried to rob our store. He wouldn’t give them what they wanted so they… shot him right in the stomach. Then shot him a dozen more times… none of which were in the head. They made him suffer.”
K’thalen took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. “So it’s revenge yer after.”
She swallowed dryly to prevent herself from tearing up. “I’m after justice… but I’ll settle with revenge.”
Slowly he looked up to meet her gaze again. “The Black Adder Boys were me family once. I trained most a’them when we was all in the Order of the Twin Adders. They betrayed me fer gil… slaughtered dozens a rookies just tryin’ to make the world a better place… or at the very least, feed their families. Revenge is… not a good thing to follow, lass. Though I suppose I ain’t one to lecture ya ‘bout fergiveness.”
“I’m not here to be lectured. I’m here to make sure my father gets the peace he deserves.” She pulled her package off her shoulders and opened the top, pulling a slender rifle polished to a mirror finish. “I’m not used to fighting killers like you are, but I’m a damn good shot. I can shave the peach fuzz off a Lalafell’s upper lip at 200 yalms. Let me tag along and I’ll make sure your guns never jam again.”
K’thalen lifted his bottle to his lips but paused, before offering it to her. “Drink this. If’n ya can keep it down then the others’ll probably let me keep ya ‘round.” He sat back down once she took the bottle from him; it smelled awful, some nasty black gunk she’d find building up on an engine rather than something that should be placed anywhere near her mouth… but if she refused him then… what then?
“Down the hatch…” She thought to herself before instantly regretting it. It tasted like she was swallowing needles fresh from a campfire, only worse! She only took a sip but had to cover her mouth lest she immediately spit it out! It was fire in her throat, burning a hole in her chin as she forced herself to swallow it, which only made it burn all the way down. “BLAGH! UUGH! WHAT THE HELLS IS THIS?!”
K’thalen threw his head back and laughed heartily! “Hahaha…! Black Belly Whiskey, lass! What’s yer name, anyroad! Heh heh heh….!”
She wiped at her tongue before pushing the bottle against his chest. “U… uugh… U’tova Thenn…”
Immediately his laughter stopped and his eyes grew wide. “Thenn? As in Thenn Tia? The legendary gunsmith of Thanalan? Yer his daughter?!”
“The one and only…”
He straightened himself up and took a long swig of his bottle. U’tova couldn’t bare to look at him drink that sludge lest she retch again. “Well.. welcome aboard, Tova. M’name’s Thalen… Thalen Tia. Or as I used to be called… Thalen Thrice-Shamed.”
She paused as she looked him over but she didn’t seem too surprised. “Thanks. Let’s take those bastards down together then…!”
"Oi... don't be too hasty. Sit down n'tell me more 'bout yer pa. There'll be plenty a time to get yer blood debt repaid soon 'nough, I swear it."
The desert tribes of the Seeker of the Sun Miqo’te live in a harsh and unforgiving land. It rains only three or four months of the year, and only a few days in each month at that. Water is scarce and therefore precious, both to the animals that viciously fight each other over it, and to the people that hunt them. Bravery alone isn’t an impressive feat out here; you are either brave, insane, or dead. Heroic deeds are the norm here in Thanalan, with dying for your people being the most a common warrior can accomplish. That is why being called a coward or craven sits among the highest of insults; you aren’t just disrespecting them, you are disrespecting all their past deeds and efforts to look out for their own. A coward cannot defend their own people. They cannot be relied upon. They are worse than useless– a detriment to everyone around them. S’era, Firstborn Daughter of Rarku the Red knows this, as does E’zohl the Howler. He never took his eyes off her while his hateful glare only worsened. He was furious, not because she called him a coward, but because she was partially right; dying at her hand would only throw his whole tribe into disarray until another Tia took his place and his breeding rights– unearned and undeserved. To call upon his champion would make him look weak in the eyes of every tribe in Thanalan. But it was an urru’shun… he had no choice but to answer the call to a duel.
“Name the terms.” He snarled, red in the face and eager to spill her blood.
S’era was quick to answer. “Victory takes all! Name your champion!” S’vahli clenched his jaw as he watched in silence, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. The Zu Tribe wasn’t the strongest or fiercest in the land but they were certainly up there… and should S’era fail this urru’thun, then not only would he lose her, but all his tribewives. His only son would be in terrible danger as well; he was barely two months old but in all likelihood E’zohl would kill him, either by his own hand or by wilderness itself when he would force the mother to abandon him in the desert. S’vahli would lose his breeding rights, and would be unable to claim his title again. A lot was riding on her victory from her outburst… too much. She turned to give him a reassuring half-smile, and in return he nodded in agreement. It was already far too late to protest.
“I name E’magmi the Storm’s Chorus!”
The crowd fell silent before splitting like the Red Sea. A woman twice S’era’s age and three films taller lumbered forward; she looked like she had been chewed on by a dragon and spit out on several different occasions, her skin marred with deep scars and she was missing many fingers, but the cold and calculative glow in her dull green eyes is what made S’era’s ears pin against her head. She was a legendary warrior, serving her tribe for over thirty summers, and has a higher body count than most could even imagine. The spear in her grasp was almost as twisted and gnarled as she was, covered in tiny serrated thorns and stained with the blood and sinew of her victims; even a scratch by something like that would certainly lead to a slow and agonizing death. E’magmi walked with the grace of a killer, her gaze fixed on the woman that dared challenge her tribe, her family. “You may have the blood of Rarku the Red in your veins,” She started, stopping just ahead of her nunh. “But you are still a child. Speaking with an outsider’s accent. Wielding an outsider’s weapon. Tonight you face the fury of the Eft Tribe.” S’era remained, her hand gripping the hilt of her uchigatana tightly while everyone gave them more than enough room. S’vahli and a handful of others stepped in front of Miraan the Eldest to ensure she wouldn’t be harmed in this duel to the death.
“Suddenly you know when to keep your mouth shut!” E’zohl taunted her, with a laugh almost befitting his nickname. He turned to glare at S’vahli before sneering. “I look forward to filling your wives with my seed, giant!”
“Name your… weapons.” Miraan declared, her voice barely heard over E’zohl’s excited cackling.
E’magmi lifted her unnerving spear. “Vrrenshka.” She huffed, before lifting the nub that used to be her hand to raise a spiked iron shield. “Orruuth.”
S’era was quick to act, tilting up her blade but keeping it in its sheath. “Mashetani.” The foreign name brought snickers and whispers alike from all directions. Ignoring them, she lifted a curved dagger from her belt. “Blerruk.” Then she raised a hand toward the sky before bringing it down to point at her own warpaint. “Azeyma.” S’vahli couldn’t help but smile at his First Wife declaring their goddess was among her weapons. E’magmi wasn’t nearly as amused.
“May the… Warden… favor the… victor.” Slowly Miraan the Eldest closed her eyes and fell silent for a moment, as if she was communing with the goddess right now. “Begin.”
S’era was fast but E’magmi was faster. She lunged forward from an idle standing position into a full thrust of her spear with startling speed, trying to finish this fight before it even began! SHWIISH! Her quarry bent all the way back, barely missing the thorns from biting through her furs and tearing open her chest and stomach! S’era stayed low, keeping three points of contact on the dirt as much as possible while her hand never left her hilt! E’magmi swung the spear like a club, clearly trying to stick her with those disease-addled hooks since she was too nimble to simply eviscerate! The tribesmen eager for violence burst into an uproar as they danced around each other in this deadly game of cobra and mongoose. The shadows danced and jittered about from the seething flames, both opponents glaring at each other with nothing but contempt. “Draw your blade and fight me!” E’magmi snarled, sweeping at her legs; but she went even lower, her chest pressing against the ground while the barbed spear caught on her ponytail and ripped her hair band loose! A thrust at her body forced S’era to leap into the air, exposing herself for a sweeping strike to bury those thorns into her side, until-!
SHWIIING!
She tightened her grip on her uchigatana and ripped it from its sheath, the sleek and slender blade glistening in the darkening sky on her descent toward her foe! The bonfire flames bent toward the blade and touched its razor edge, igniting it with a searing burst of light! E’magmi closed her eyes against a flash as bright as a strike of lightning, causing her to stumble back! Now was her chance! Now was her chance to kill the Storm’s Chorus!
KLANK!
As hot and bright as her blade was, it couldn’t get past that accursed shield! She landed on E’magmi and tried to plunge the blade through her defenses, but the edge of the sword bounced off the metal hull and ricocheted off! She was thrown down into the dirt with a heavy thud and only had just enough time to roll away as the spear struck the ground she was laying on just half a moment before!
Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump!
Her heart was slamming against her chest after every parry! E’magmi had the height advantage and far better reach, swinging and thrusting that blasted spear like it weighed nothing! And even if she managed to get under or around that disgusting weapon, her mighty shield kept a killing strike from connecting! The Eft Tribe shouted encouragement to their champion while the Zu Tribe did the same to theirs, with the children’s lives and nunh’s wives hanging in the balance!
She had to focus– there had to be a way around this woman’s shield, there had to be a way to get there before the spear came back to brush against her skin! E’magmi stayed in the same position, more or less; she kept herself facing S’era as the samurai darted around, searching desperately for an opening! Every now and then she hurled a wave of flame from her blade to distract her, but it never amounted to a kill, or even an injury… every time she thought she had her, that shield came right up into her face and it was back to square one!
“What’s the matter…? Hahh… hahhh…” E’magmi sneered, watching S’era almost stumble from exhaustion. “You’re getting… hahh… slower and slower… soon… hahh… it will be over…!”
If Azeyma’s flame wasn’t the answer, perhaps Menphina’s frost was. S’era gripped at her weapon and the clean-burning flame flickering off the blade vanished, only to be replaced with a hissing mist. It slowed her down even more by making her uchigatana heavier. She raised her frosted sword up and charged at E’magmi again, showering the ground around them with ice every time their weapons clashed together! But now ice was starting to form on the tip of the spear, throwing off its perfect balance and causing the older woman to spit out obscenities amidst their duel!
S’era changed to wind to make up for lost time, launching herself high above her foe with a burst of aether that sent her skybound. Exhausted and almost too weak to continue, she switched again back to fire and poured the last of her aether into igniting her sword! Gazing upon the blinding blade was akin to staring directly into the sun, blinding E’magmi and forcing her to protect herself again by raising her shield to block any strike S’era would attempt… but in the middle of the burning flash, she vanished into thin air! Only an unmanned sword came down to bounce against the shield, twirling through the air before driving itself into the dirt. E’magmi took half a heartbeat to look around for her foe before she found her, kneeling on all fours in the corner of her vision!
SLUUNK!
“Hhhuuugh…?!” Her gasp was weak and frail, the wind in her lungs slipping out of both her throat and the hole in her back from the serrated blade buried there by her opponent! S’era wasted no time in twisting the machete before yanking it free, squirting blood across her neck and face! The Eft Tribe screamed out in despair to watch their legendary champion collapse onto her knees, dropping her spear into the dirt! It was over.
“MAGICK!” They shouted in protest, while E’zohl simply stared in a panicked shock. “CHEATER!”
Blood oozed from E’magmi’s mouth as she slumped to the side and gurgled on her failure. The intense light took everyone by surprise– even S’vahli and his warriors; none saw S’era use a shadowdancing technique to warp behind her foe, none but Miraan the Eldest. Slowly she slipped her knife back into its respective sheath and walked around to look down at E’magmi, almost too exhausted to stand for much longer herself.
“Th… tuughh…” She gargled, spitting up more but refusing to simply fall over and expire. So S’era, Firstborn Daughter of Rarku the Red, Slayer of a Hundred Shelled Men, Taabu’uuk the Lesser’s Vanquisher, and Final Pupil of the Bending Reed, plucked her sword from the sand and swiped it across the air, taking the head of the Storm’s Chorus. A proper warrior’s death.
S’vahli stepped down from Miraan the Eldest and placed her hand on S’era’s shoulder. He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead before turning to look at E’zohl the Howler, who collapsed to his knees not unlike his champion, his face pale and his eyes wide. “Zohl.” He huffed out, refusing to link his tribe with his name, as was tradition. He walked forward with his massive axe resting on his shoulder, causing his warriors and tribewives to back away to give them some room. E’zohl was trembling, his eyes closing tightly as he lowered his head, waiting for his demise and silently praying for his passing to at the very least be a quick one. But then he felt a giant hand rest upon the top of his head. “The Eft Tribe will now pay tribute to us.” S’vahli declared, his gaze sweeping across them. “As proof of your loyalty… you will surrender many wives to me– but not all. And any Tia they bring into this world as well. A boy should learn what it takes to be a proper nunh.” He released his grip on E’zohl and left him there in his shame, knowing no Tia would go after his breeding rights now that he was a lapdog for another tribe, but he was also denied an honorable death. He had nothing to say as S’vahli and S’era hugged out their victory. Nothing left to say at all.
"Cremate the Storm's Chorus." S'era commanded, pulling his attention away from the ground. "If she rots, you will too."
