Post by Zaedus on Mar 8, 2016 15:12:22 GMT -5
The winter winds howled, gust after gust in a desperate attempt to cling and bring it's frigid caress permanently to the lands. Spring was soon coming, and a long time waiting.
The flap of the grand yurt opened, the biting air racing across bringing a chill to the bone but subsided swiftly. Bundled in furs fresh from the autumn's hunt a young Warven entered the grand yurt surrounded by warriors and shamans of the highest command. He dropped to a knee keeping his gaze to the ground as he drew back his hood. He lifted his head to lock eyes with a scarred Warven perched atop a bone and fur throne. The outcast, the kin slayer, the banished. His leader.
"It is done, the last clan..."
The anticipation hung thick in the air, the Warven around this pup eager to hear the news.
"Has submitted to your rule"
There were no cheers, only sighs of relief. For nearly seven winters now the Warven had been locked in brutal bloodshed. Some thought it was time, others thought it a foolish notion to bring them all under one banner, but it was done. With the last clan coming to heel the blood war was over and peace could prosper, or so that was the plan.
And elderly Warven stood and waved his hand towards the Warven sitting atop his throne. Bones chiming as the shaman's bracelet waved under his wrist.
"Then as I speak, let the ancients hear and the spirits decree, there is but one Warven Lord. Kneel and show capitulation on this day.. to Zaedus Frostmane, High Warlord to all Warven"
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A giggle. A familiar sound, one that brought fond and painful memories one that brought a smile to the face. He knew that laugh, he welcomed it and would never grow tired of it. The old Warven looked to his sister and smiled softly. His eyes met hers and she smiled, her emotion seeming to pour into her white moon eyes.
"That was almost eighty years ago brother. Come, lest you forget what day it is"
He didn't. The smiled evaporated from his face as he thought about it. Thirteen years to the day he had lost his mate and today marked remembrance for it. A glint of happiness found it's way to him when he knew his sons would be there to adorn her cairn with winter flowers and wreaths of holly and juniper.
"Come now brother, they await."
She moved her hand from his arm, at that moment the old Warven did not know she had touched him. He slowly rose from his throne of bone and fur, two warriors there to support him if needed. He reached to the side and brought forth a smooth and twisted oak staff. The feel of the wood brought forth memories. He remembered the time spent smoothing and rubbing the branch clean and the japes of his elder brother as he did it.
"You are a mother's cub brother always seeking favor"
He smiled briefly, as this staff carried his mother until she could no longer walk, it would do the same for him. Warven dropped as he passed through the camp that had now become a fortress in it's own right. Howls of reverence echoed as two large dire wolves trotted to his side. He placed a hand on each running his hand down their large heads and maws.
"Come Grayell, Yukiko. We must travel, but not far this day"
He smiled as he looked to his companions. Though not the actual ones, he had honored the memory of his friends by naming his hunting companions after them. It gave him peace naming them such since he had not known what became of the two after so many years. They kept close has he passed through the gates. No Warven stopped him, none dared to cross his path for they knew what today marked, and none would interrupt the Night Winter Wolf on this day.
Zaedus' sister awaited him outside the gates and smiled gently as he approached.
"You are getting slower in your age brother, shall we get the bears?"
He wanted to scoff, toss aside her gesture as a jab at his new found feebleness. What was he expecting anyway? He had outlived almost all his generation and more. Most Warven his age would have been entombed for two decades or more by now but he knew why he yet lived. His life extended by darkness, by blood. His chest pulsed as the thoughts came to mind.
"Subside, you are not called..."
He thought as the tremble faded from his hand. He looked to his sister and nodded in agreement. They would ride this day, walking seemed unfit.
Arrival at last. The short ride seemed an eternity in the biting cold. He was here. The cairn was already adorned with some decor as he dismounted from his dire bear, Warven making haste to his side. A younger Warven had him by the arm as he aided the warlord form his mount. When Zaedus looked to him he saw a glimpse of the past, he saw himself. His eldest son was almost a duplicate of the old Warven same silvered hair but not as tall as he was when he was that age.
"Easy father, the ground is slick with frost. Come, mother awaits."
He smiled and nodded. There were only six Warven here today, A sister, a father and four sons. They entered together and would not emerge for some hours.
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"Great Grandfather!"
Came a shout as the yurt flap opened, the summer breeze filling the domicile with the scent of flowering plants. A smell most missed and the breath that took it in causing racking coughs. A gnarled bony hand outstretched to the Warven who had entered beckoning him to come closer.
"You...have returned...this bodes well for me."
Came the staggered speech marred with rattled breaths. With his half blind eyes the ancient Warven knew he was surrounded by family. four sons, ten grandchildren, and six great grand children, and a sister. No Warven in history could claim to have done the same or have been able to witness an event, but this one could. Zaedus looked to his line, he had never seen a better group of warriors and shamans. His family looked to him with sadness as they gathered around his bed. It had been moved to the main chamber of the yurt, then entire clan waiting outside. Death was coming, and the entirety of the Warven knew it was coming. He knew it would and nearly welcomed it. After nearly two centuries of life, unheard of amongst Warven, it was time.
A shriek broke the somber silence. Zaedus' eyes widened in shock as he slowly turned his head. His sister, gifted by the spirits of the third sight, paragon of the elements stood frozen gazing into seemingly nothing. His brood nearly up in arms at the sounds stood encircling their dying patriarch anticipating an attack. None came.
"Sister, I must see. Let me see"
Zaedus demanded, hand reaching for her. His sister looked down at him and hesitantly nodded. She took her fingers and rubbed her bare eyes, bringing tears to them. They beaded and coalesced on her finger tips and dropped them into Zaedus' eye.
The room span out of control, nausea almost setting in until it settled. He no longer saw the physical world, but the raw energy of it. The outlines of his family nothing more but wisps of energy, save for the one in the corner of the Yurt.
That Abyss.
It undulated, pulsed with vile blackness. It filled the room swiftly. Zaedus' sister took a protective stance as the darkness crept closer, tendrils snaking across the ground seemingly absorbing whatever light it could.
A giggle.
It took Zaedus off guard that the sounds of a little girl's laughter was echoing. A small child emerged from that black pit, taking him and his sister off guard. She had to be no older than seven, raven locks flowing from her head like rivers of night. Her honey colored eyes gleaming.
"Don't worry mister wolf man! Daddy isn't going to hurt you!"
[/i]Daddy? at this point Zaedus had no idea what kind of trip he was enduring but this was the crown jewel. The little girl's smile faded as soon did she. Another visage appeared, this one grotesque. A man appeared, lithe and delicate, the same raven locks covering most of his face save for the red brand staining the left side of his face. Not one bit of the mans flesh was visible, concealed by blood ever flowing over him. He raised a hand and snapped. Reality set in and no longer was the sight of the world raw and pure, it was normal.[/i]
"Hello...old friend."
Came his voice. It carried hatred, death, pity, and mockery. Zaedus knew that voice but unlike the other times he had heard it, this time was welcoming to him. Zaedus' brood was quick to turn at the sudden appearance of this new interloper but hands were stayed by his sister. The tanned skin man averted his gaze from the dying Warven, tips of fangs showing through the toothy grin.
"Quite the brood Zaedus. I am impressed."
There was no sarcasm in Raevarin's voice, there was no malice just reverence. He turned back to Zaedus placing a hand on the old Warven's chest feeling the car he had made. Raevarin muttered a few words and time seemed to slow. Then it it. searing agonizing pain radiating from his body as he seemed to lift upward. Those brief seconds seemed an eternity but when it did he was no longer laying but standing. he was no longer old, his bones no longer ached. He just stood as he did in his younger days, the Wistvale days facing Raevarin. He turned to see himself lying on the fur mattress breathing heavy breaths. Raevarin's hand grasped his shoulder.
"Come now Zaedus. You must return."
His face twisted in confusion. He looked to Raevarin.
"Return? to what do you speak?"
That brought a laugh to the Vampyre's face.
"You are a fragment, something I lost and aim to collect. You took to me as I took to you because we are one in the same. I am eternal Zaedus, but broken. Long ago I was fragmented and scattered, each piece manifesting and becoming it's own entity. I find those fragments, nurture them, then when that fragment has met it's end I collect it."
Zaedus at this point was at a loss of words. It must have a semblance of truth he was standing as physical as ever, but a quick look over his shoulder he saw himself, old and feeble dying on a pile of furs. He looked to his sister who locked eyes with him, tears streaming down her face as she nodded.
"Go brother, it is time."
she whispered in his head. Zaedus looked to Raevarin, and nodded. They both headed towards the opening of the yurt, but a pause came to Zaedus. He rested his eyes on himself lying on that bed, chest heaving. Up and down, up and down, up...then down. Emotion gripped the Warven seeing the looks on his family's faces. A hand grasped his arm. Raevarin stood waiting beckoning for him to follow and he did.
On that day, the Winter Wind Howled it's last.
Thanks for the memories folks!
The flap of the grand yurt opened, the biting air racing across bringing a chill to the bone but subsided swiftly. Bundled in furs fresh from the autumn's hunt a young Warven entered the grand yurt surrounded by warriors and shamans of the highest command. He dropped to a knee keeping his gaze to the ground as he drew back his hood. He lifted his head to lock eyes with a scarred Warven perched atop a bone and fur throne. The outcast, the kin slayer, the banished. His leader.
"It is done, the last clan..."
The anticipation hung thick in the air, the Warven around this pup eager to hear the news.
"Has submitted to your rule"
There were no cheers, only sighs of relief. For nearly seven winters now the Warven had been locked in brutal bloodshed. Some thought it was time, others thought it a foolish notion to bring them all under one banner, but it was done. With the last clan coming to heel the blood war was over and peace could prosper, or so that was the plan.
And elderly Warven stood and waved his hand towards the Warven sitting atop his throne. Bones chiming as the shaman's bracelet waved under his wrist.
"Then as I speak, let the ancients hear and the spirits decree, there is but one Warven Lord. Kneel and show capitulation on this day.. to Zaedus Frostmane, High Warlord to all Warven"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A giggle. A familiar sound, one that brought fond and painful memories one that brought a smile to the face. He knew that laugh, he welcomed it and would never grow tired of it. The old Warven looked to his sister and smiled softly. His eyes met hers and she smiled, her emotion seeming to pour into her white moon eyes.
"That was almost eighty years ago brother. Come, lest you forget what day it is"
He didn't. The smiled evaporated from his face as he thought about it. Thirteen years to the day he had lost his mate and today marked remembrance for it. A glint of happiness found it's way to him when he knew his sons would be there to adorn her cairn with winter flowers and wreaths of holly and juniper.
"Come now brother, they await."
She moved her hand from his arm, at that moment the old Warven did not know she had touched him. He slowly rose from his throne of bone and fur, two warriors there to support him if needed. He reached to the side and brought forth a smooth and twisted oak staff. The feel of the wood brought forth memories. He remembered the time spent smoothing and rubbing the branch clean and the japes of his elder brother as he did it.
"You are a mother's cub brother always seeking favor"
He smiled briefly, as this staff carried his mother until she could no longer walk, it would do the same for him. Warven dropped as he passed through the camp that had now become a fortress in it's own right. Howls of reverence echoed as two large dire wolves trotted to his side. He placed a hand on each running his hand down their large heads and maws.
"Come Grayell, Yukiko. We must travel, but not far this day"
He smiled as he looked to his companions. Though not the actual ones, he had honored the memory of his friends by naming his hunting companions after them. It gave him peace naming them such since he had not known what became of the two after so many years. They kept close has he passed through the gates. No Warven stopped him, none dared to cross his path for they knew what today marked, and none would interrupt the Night Winter Wolf on this day.
Zaedus' sister awaited him outside the gates and smiled gently as he approached.
"You are getting slower in your age brother, shall we get the bears?"
He wanted to scoff, toss aside her gesture as a jab at his new found feebleness. What was he expecting anyway? He had outlived almost all his generation and more. Most Warven his age would have been entombed for two decades or more by now but he knew why he yet lived. His life extended by darkness, by blood. His chest pulsed as the thoughts came to mind.
"Subside, you are not called..."
He thought as the tremble faded from his hand. He looked to his sister and nodded in agreement. They would ride this day, walking seemed unfit.
Arrival at last. The short ride seemed an eternity in the biting cold. He was here. The cairn was already adorned with some decor as he dismounted from his dire bear, Warven making haste to his side. A younger Warven had him by the arm as he aided the warlord form his mount. When Zaedus looked to him he saw a glimpse of the past, he saw himself. His eldest son was almost a duplicate of the old Warven same silvered hair but not as tall as he was when he was that age.
"Easy father, the ground is slick with frost. Come, mother awaits."
He smiled and nodded. There were only six Warven here today, A sister, a father and four sons. They entered together and would not emerge for some hours.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Great Grandfather!"
Came a shout as the yurt flap opened, the summer breeze filling the domicile with the scent of flowering plants. A smell most missed and the breath that took it in causing racking coughs. A gnarled bony hand outstretched to the Warven who had entered beckoning him to come closer.
"You...have returned...this bodes well for me."
Came the staggered speech marred with rattled breaths. With his half blind eyes the ancient Warven knew he was surrounded by family. four sons, ten grandchildren, and six great grand children, and a sister. No Warven in history could claim to have done the same or have been able to witness an event, but this one could. Zaedus looked to his line, he had never seen a better group of warriors and shamans. His family looked to him with sadness as they gathered around his bed. It had been moved to the main chamber of the yurt, then entire clan waiting outside. Death was coming, and the entirety of the Warven knew it was coming. He knew it would and nearly welcomed it. After nearly two centuries of life, unheard of amongst Warven, it was time.
A shriek broke the somber silence. Zaedus' eyes widened in shock as he slowly turned his head. His sister, gifted by the spirits of the third sight, paragon of the elements stood frozen gazing into seemingly nothing. His brood nearly up in arms at the sounds stood encircling their dying patriarch anticipating an attack. None came.
"Sister, I must see. Let me see"
Zaedus demanded, hand reaching for her. His sister looked down at him and hesitantly nodded. She took her fingers and rubbed her bare eyes, bringing tears to them. They beaded and coalesced on her finger tips and dropped them into Zaedus' eye.
The room span out of control, nausea almost setting in until it settled. He no longer saw the physical world, but the raw energy of it. The outlines of his family nothing more but wisps of energy, save for the one in the corner of the Yurt.
That Abyss.
It undulated, pulsed with vile blackness. It filled the room swiftly. Zaedus' sister took a protective stance as the darkness crept closer, tendrils snaking across the ground seemingly absorbing whatever light it could.
A giggle.
It took Zaedus off guard that the sounds of a little girl's laughter was echoing. A small child emerged from that black pit, taking him and his sister off guard. She had to be no older than seven, raven locks flowing from her head like rivers of night. Her honey colored eyes gleaming.
"Don't worry mister wolf man! Daddy isn't going to hurt you!"
[/i]Daddy? at this point Zaedus had no idea what kind of trip he was enduring but this was the crown jewel. The little girl's smile faded as soon did she. Another visage appeared, this one grotesque. A man appeared, lithe and delicate, the same raven locks covering most of his face save for the red brand staining the left side of his face. Not one bit of the mans flesh was visible, concealed by blood ever flowing over him. He raised a hand and snapped. Reality set in and no longer was the sight of the world raw and pure, it was normal.[/i]
"Hello...old friend."
Came his voice. It carried hatred, death, pity, and mockery. Zaedus knew that voice but unlike the other times he had heard it, this time was welcoming to him. Zaedus' brood was quick to turn at the sudden appearance of this new interloper but hands were stayed by his sister. The tanned skin man averted his gaze from the dying Warven, tips of fangs showing through the toothy grin.
"Quite the brood Zaedus. I am impressed."
There was no sarcasm in Raevarin's voice, there was no malice just reverence. He turned back to Zaedus placing a hand on the old Warven's chest feeling the car he had made. Raevarin muttered a few words and time seemed to slow. Then it it. searing agonizing pain radiating from his body as he seemed to lift upward. Those brief seconds seemed an eternity but when it did he was no longer laying but standing. he was no longer old, his bones no longer ached. He just stood as he did in his younger days, the Wistvale days facing Raevarin. He turned to see himself lying on the fur mattress breathing heavy breaths. Raevarin's hand grasped his shoulder.
"Come now Zaedus. You must return."
His face twisted in confusion. He looked to Raevarin.
"Return? to what do you speak?"
That brought a laugh to the Vampyre's face.
"You are a fragment, something I lost and aim to collect. You took to me as I took to you because we are one in the same. I am eternal Zaedus, but broken. Long ago I was fragmented and scattered, each piece manifesting and becoming it's own entity. I find those fragments, nurture them, then when that fragment has met it's end I collect it."
Zaedus at this point was at a loss of words. It must have a semblance of truth he was standing as physical as ever, but a quick look over his shoulder he saw himself, old and feeble dying on a pile of furs. He looked to his sister who locked eyes with him, tears streaming down her face as she nodded.
"Go brother, it is time."
she whispered in his head. Zaedus looked to Raevarin, and nodded. They both headed towards the opening of the yurt, but a pause came to Zaedus. He rested his eyes on himself lying on that bed, chest heaving. Up and down, up and down, up...then down. Emotion gripped the Warven seeing the looks on his family's faces. A hand grasped his arm. Raevarin stood waiting beckoning for him to follow and he did.
On that day, the Winter Wind Howled it's last.
Thanks for the memories folks!