EncyclopAtys - User contributions [en]

The short war for the Hidden Source

2023-02-16T23:45:02Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Der kurze Krieg um die Versteckte Quelle
|ES =La Guerra relámpago para la Fuente Oculta
|EN =The short war for the Hidden Source
|FR =La guerre éclair pour la Source Cachée
|H =
|palette=matis
}}</noinclude>
[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|'''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|Lylanea Vicciona]]''', ''Ranger, Barde of the Four Nations''|
<poem>''These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining.''
{{Couillard2}}As I walked towards the battle to come, I prayed inside the confines of my Kara-Parok helmet:
“''Jena, keep all our seeds in Your hands and let Your breath strengthen our souls. Give us the strength to survive this danger to continue serving You.''”
“''These marauders are truly superbly equipped and trained''”, it flashed through my mind as I spotted the first fortifications that had been erected on the slopes of the incline leading towards the Hidden Source Region. Within a few short days, the enemy troops had managed to build and fortify some formidable defenses. The ascent from the Knoll Of Dissent Region was blocked by two towers and quite a large number of soldiers in black armor stood guard upon the path up into the steppe.
I turned to look around at the faces of my comrades in arms. Our band consisted of about Thirty to Forty Homins, about half Matis half Tryker, with a few Fyros and even fewer Zorai, who had chosen to fight at our side. Most seemed confident and brave, but I was sure that some, like me, were struggling to keep their confidence at the sight of the enemy forces and hid their fear beneath their helmets. Few we were. Possibly too few. I hoped and prayed for strength in the face of our foes.
We had information that a parallel attack to ours, launched from the Burning Desert by the Zoraï and Fyros would occur, I had no idea whether these forces were any more numerous than the smallish Matis force that had assembled on this day. True, it was a collection of truly brave Homins and great warriors, but still we were achingly few in number. A few who were ready to face the enemy and do their best to defend their hard won freedom though.
This thought gave me the strength I had been looking for and I walked on with my head held high. We faced the Kitin and won. We had faced worse than this.
I abhorred fighting other Homins, but to protect my people and the Homins of the New Lands, I had to do it. I had sworn an oath to king Yrkanis and I would keep it.
Slowly, our small band of warriors walked across the plain in front of the steep cliffs that bordered the higher plain where the enemy stood. We saw their strength and might and I shivered.
They saw us too.
They jeered, laughed and taunted us.
They pointed their fingers at the small, pathetic group of warriors that the New Lands had raised. No, this could never be a serious threat to their army.

[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
Standing tall on a jagged outcropping, Rocho di Anichio, the chief of the renegade First Deserters, smiled coldly. This ragtag band would not stand a chance against his trained warriors and those of his allies. His gaze went out over the plain beneath the foothills of the Hidden Source Region and the about 30 Homins that came walking up to his position.
Smirking, he watched their pathetic first attempt at an attack. Undisciplined as a panicked herd of Yubos they were. Wild and impetuous, the fighters charged forward, leaving their magi far behind and out of range of any attempts to heal. He almost had to laugh. How incredibly embarrassing for "His Highness, Yrkanis", the bastard, that such vermin were his only line of defense.
He watched as the warriors rushed fiercely up against the marauder troops. And yes, they even managed to cause a small breach in their infantry ranks. But to the well-trained battle mages up here on the cliffs, they were no more than a few flies to squash.
Bubbling Acid projectiles hissed and sprayed down on the battlefield. Clashing, bitter cold burst from the hands of other magi, encasing the attackers in ice as thick as a Shala's legs. Ah, he loved to watch the magi. How their well-practiced, disciplined movements channeled the sap and summoned the elements by means of it. Not a word passed their lips, only their movements killed.
Well, he liked it, but he loved close combat even more. Again, it was movements that decided over life and death, but it was an entirely different dance.
One warrior dared and managed to break through the ranks of his defenders. Dispelled Magic beaded harmlessly off an invisible bubble surrounding him, like water. Yes, he had heard of that. Some homins could temporarily negate any magic close to them by focusing their inherent sap.
Let's see how long this one would hold out. Especially since this aura gave no protection against swords and pistol shots.
As the fight grew nearer, he recognized the sleek lines of female armor.
A Matis, judging by the figure. Wearing finely crafted amber-colored armor. She sprinted up the incline and right toward his position with light footed grace. She deftly dodged the swords of several warriors and ducked under most bullets of the riflemen. Some ricocheted off or stuck in her armor. She probably aimed to distract the magi, or even kill them, so that her companions further down had an easier approach to the melee. Granted, she actually reached the edge of his position and a mage fell victim to her sword. But then it was over. She hardly stood a chance.
The magi turned their spells on her and with a shriek she went down under the sudden onslaught of deadly energy.
Calmly, he walked over and looked down at her.
She lay limp, twitching a bit. So far her helmet and armor were mostly intact, but the powerful Shockwave Spell that hit her must have broken every bone in her body as her protective aura weakened and finally vanished.
A thin thread of blood seeped from her helmet, she coughed in agony as he leaned over her, trying to make out something through the slits in her helmet. Amber eyes, full of rage and pain, sparkled within. Probably recognizing the officer's seal on his armor and the colors of his tribe.
“''You... Bastard! - You're mine!'' she spit out in a well of blood.”
A sudden wave of amusement made him laugh in her upturned face.
“''Hahaha! Right now your soon to be dead body belongs to my soldiers, little Matis. Didn't you see that your pathetic bunch doesn't stand a chance?'' he teased.”
“''I'll get you! - Someday. - I swear ... by the dragon's breath.'' came the muffled, pain-filled reply from under the helmet.”
“''Swear all you want. You've already lost.''”
He viciously kicked a booted foot into her shivering side and turned to look back over the battlefield and face his troops.
Laughing, he exclaimed , "Look comrades. This is all the great kingdom has to offer against you! No wonder it was so easy to attack and rob the merchants right under its nose!"
His soldiers laughed and cheered. At their feet lay the shattered bodies of the few fools who had opposed them.
Ah, how he enjoyed such moments. It had been a good idea to join forces with Akilia and the others. Although he distrusted that goo-addled Zoraï.
A shimmer in the air made him look to the ground. The Matis had disappeared.
So she had gone into the arms of Jena and had herself revived at the shrine back there in the distance. Oh, let her.
One by one, the other fallen warriors disappear, too, from the blood-soaked ground.
He would be surprised if they were foolish enough to try again.

[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
I awoke at the Karavan shrine, in front of the entrance to the Primordial Roots, in the Knoll Of Dissent.
My whole body ached and even the blessing of Jena was unable to make me forget the horror of the last few minutes. Groaning, I got up and took a few unsteady steps, took a deep breath and the musty, bitter smell of the primeval roots drifting up from the huge hole in the bark behind me stung my nose. Helping to clear my head.
As I started to move I had the impression that some of my bones and muscles were still knitting back together. My health certainly wasn’t at its peak. I relaxed as best as I could and let the rhythm of the run dispel the last of the pain and dizziness that gripped me each time I claimed the goddess's blessing of restoration. Far ahead I saw other Homins running back to the scene of the battle.
They all knew that if they failed, the kingdom would fall into disaster.
We gathered again at the foot of the steep, narrow path to the higher Region. Our earlier, wild and uncoordinated attacks had caused a breach in the marauders' defenses, but a lot of them were still hiding behind the garrison towers and in the impassable terrain behind those.
This time we proceeded in a more coordinated way. Slowly and purposefully, we beat the individual groups of defenders and though sometimes I fell victim to the spells of the opponents, a friend would be there who brought me back to my feet with his magic. The fight was hard, but finally we reached the end of the so-called "ramp" and were able to penetrate deeper into the region.
In the distance I spotted some fleeing figures and I’m sure that I recognized the red-trimmed armor of my earlier tormentor. The coward obviously preferred to retreat, rather than face us. Kicking me when I was down and at his mercy. Despicable. And allying with the Marauders, a heinous act of treason.
I followed the other Homins deeper into the steppe, ready for a sustained and complicated fight. Kitin were still crawling over the dry grass and Cuttler and Torbaks were hiding inside bushes and behind dunes. But our small band continued on its way undeterred.
Finally, however, we came upon a sight that took our breath away.
The marauders had really done a frighteningly good job. Around the outpost of Berello, more fortified towers had sprung up, simple stables had been built, and crude huts stood close together, offering shelter to an army.
This was what we were now facing.
Their warriors outnumbered us at least 3 to 1.
A murmur went through our ranks. How could we defeat this huge army?
But then it was too late for considerations.
A squad broke away from the main army and came charging toward us. We had no choice but to defend ourselves.
The battle was fierce and wave after wave of Marauder units threw themselves at us.
But we remained steadfast. We held our position and were even able to advance ever so slowly.
This had to be Divine Intervention. Jena guided our hands, gave us strength and courage and more than once I called the praise of Jena and my country: “''Jena Ayie! Yrkanis Ayie! Matia Ayie!''”
Then suddenly the enemy's ranks swelled. Their sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm us. We fought on, with courage born of despair. Right in the midst of the great camp, surrounded by enemy warriors. The armor of the newly arrived enemies bore the mark of the bandit Sirgio, whose camp was halfway to the Burning Desert. He and his cohorts had joined the other Marauders in this battle. But, this had actually been to be expected. Where there was profit to be made, opportunists were not far behind.
A sword thrust narrowly missed my belly, and my counterattack was parried by the quick Tryker warrior I faced. In the melee I noticed, something akin to heat lightning over the rolling hills of the steppe. Then a ball of glowing blue energy traced its path across the sky in a high, crackling arc. It burst amidst a group of marauder riflemen entrenched behind the high folds in the dry bark of Berello outpost. Lightning arced from one to the other and further. Twitching, the Men fell to the ground as behind them a few brave figures scaled the slope. Weapons locked and wildly absorbed in the dance of magic.
"It's the Fyros and the Zoraï!" I exclaimed. A short cheer went up among the Homins fighting for Matia.
With renewed courage, we threw ourselves back into battle. The marauders grew desperate, with fresh troops falling into their back. Among them appeared altered animals. Grown to huge sizes and much more aggressive than their relatives.
The evil goo-alchemist Muang Hoi-Gi was actually making common cause with the enemies of the Homin-Nations. His abominations caught many of us off guard and we were hard pressed to stand victorious.
The large, rabid Gingos bred by the strange Fyra named Mezix also intervened in the battle. However, there were not as many as one could have expected. The raid on Mezix' camp a few weeks ago had probably helped to reduce their number.
From time to time I heard the fierce battle cry of a Homin, who shouted out the name: Akilia. So she was here, too, somewhere. Then, over the din of battle I caught angry shouts and curses, aimed at the Zorai Alchemist. As I learned later, Muang had left the alliance when it appeared that the New Land forces were gaining the upper hand. Akilia herself was supposed to have said something about this all being a "test".
For what?
Once again, this was left to speculation.
{{Couillard2}}Finally, the Homins regained the region of the Hidden Source.
The threat of the enemy from the past was once again averted. The battle won, the war far from decided.
Ex-Senator Zelion, traitor to the Fyros-Empire, fell into the hands of the Fyros army. Apparently his allies had no more use for him.
However, I am still convinced that there is another traitor somewhere in the Empire.
Rocho Valerio and his deserters were a problem the Matis-Kingdom had to deal with. Muang was threatening all Homins, and the strange Nung Horongi had been turned over to the Trykers, because they had evidence that suggested he was involved in Governor Still Wyler's assassination.
The coming months and years of Yena would certainly not be easy for the Homins of the New Lands. But, like the brave 30 warriors who stood up to a superior force, all four peoples of the New Lands will fight to determine their own destiny!
</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

The short war for the Hidden Source

2023-02-16T23:37:21Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Der kurze Krieg um die Versteckte Quelle
|ES =La Guerra relámpago para la Fuente Oculta
|EN =The short war for the Hidden Source
|FR =La guerre éclair pour la Source Cachée
|H =
|palette=matis
}}</noinclude>
[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|'''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|Lylanea Vicciona]]''', ''Ranger, Barde of the Four Nations''|
<poem>''These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining.''
{{Couillard2}}As I walked towards the battle to come, I prayed inside the confines of my Kara-Parok helmet:
“''Jena, keep all our seeds in Your hands and let Your breath strengthen our souls. Give us the strength to survive this danger to continue serving You.''”
“''These marauders are truly superbly equipped and trained''”, it flashed through my mind as I spotted the first fortifications that had been erected on the slopes of the incline leading towards the Hidden Source Region. Within a few short days, the enemy troops had managed to build and fortify some formidable defenses. The ascent from the Knoll Of Dissent Region was blocked by two towers and quite a large number of soldiers in black armor stood guard upon the path up into the steppe.
I turned to look around at the faces of my comrades in arms. Our band consisted of about Thirty to Forty Homins, about half Matis half Tryker, with a few Fyros and even fewer Zorai, who had chosen to fight at our side. Most seemed confident and brave, but I was sure that some, like me, were struggling to keep their confidence at the sight of the enemy forces and hid their fear beneath their helmets. Few we were. Possibly too few. I hoped and prayed for strength in the face of our foes.
We had information that a parallel attack to ours, launched from the Burning Desert by the Zoraï and Fyros would occur, I had no idea whether these forces were any more numerous than the smallish Matis force that had assembled on this day. True, it was a collection of truly brave Homins and great warriors, but still we were achingly few in number. A few who were ready to face the enemy and do their best to defend their hard won freedom though.
This thought gave me the strength I had been looking for and I walked on with my head held high. We faced the Kitin and won. We had faced worse than this.
I abhorred fighting other Homins, but to protect my people and the Homins of the New Lands, I had to do it. I had sworn an oath to king Yrkanis and I would keep it.
Slowly, our small band of warriors walked across the plain in front of the steep cliffs that bordered the higher plain where the enemy stood. We saw their strength and might and I shivered.
They saw us too.
They jeered, laughed and taunted us.
They pointed their fingers at the small, pathetic group of warriors that the New Lands had raised. No, this could never be a serious threat to their army.

[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
Standing tall on a jagged outcropping, Rocho di Anichio, the chief of the renegade First Deserters, smiled coldly. This ragtag band would not stand a chance against his trained warriors and those of his allies. His gaze went out over the plain beneath the foothills of the Hidden Source Region and the about 30 Homins that came walking up to his position.
Smirking, he watched their pathetic first attempt at an attack. Undisciplined as a panicked herd of Yubos they were. Wild and impetuous, the fighters charged forward, leaving their magi far behind and out of range of any attempts to heal. He almost had to laugh. How incredibly embarrassing for "His Highness, Yrkanis", the bastard, that such vermin were his only line of defense.
He watched as the warriors rushed fiercely up against the marauder troops. And yes, they even managed to cause a small breach in their infantry ranks. But to the well-trained battle mages up here on the cliffs, they were no more than a few flies to squash.
Bubbling Acid projectiles hissed and sprayed down on the battlefield. Clashing, bitter cold burst from the hands of other magi, encasing the attackers in ice as thick as a Shala's legs. Ah, he loved to watch the magi. How their well-practiced, disciplined movements channeled the sap and summoned the elements by means of it. Not a word passed their lips, only their movements killed.
Well, he liked it, but he loved close combat even more. Again, it was movements that decided over life and death, but it was an entirely different dance.
One warrior dared and managed to break through the ranks of his defenders. Dispelled Magic beaded harmlessly off an invisible bubble surrounding him, like water. Yes, he had heard of that. Some homins could temporarily negate any magic close to them by focusing their inherent sap.
Let's see how long this one would hold out. Especially since this aura gave no protection against swords and pistol shots.
As the fight grew nearer, he recognized the sleek lines of female armor.
A Matis, judging by the figure. Wearing finely crafted amber-colored armor. She sprinted up the incline and right toward his position with light footed grace. She deftly dodged the swords of several warriors and ducked under most bullets of the riflemen. Some ricocheted off or stuck in her armor. She probably aimed to distract the magi, or even kill them, so that her companions further down had an easier approach to the melee. Granted, she actually reached the edge of his position and a mage fell victim to her sword. But then it was over. She hardly stood a chance.
The magi turned their spells on her and with a shriek she went down under the sudden onslaught of deadly energy.
Calmly, he walked over and looked down at her.
She lay limp, twitching a bit. So far her helmet and armor were mostly intact, but the powerful Shockwave Spell that hit her must have broken every bone in her body as her protective aura weakened and finally vanished.
A thin thread of blood seeped from her helmet, she coughed in agony as he leaned over her, trying to make out something through the slits in her helmet. Amber eyes, full of rage and pain, sparkled within. Probably recognizing the officer's seal on his armor and the colors of his tribe.
“''You... Bastard! - You're mine!'' she spit out in a well of blood.”
A sudden wave of amusement made him laugh in her upturned face.
“''Hahaha! Right now your soon to be dead body belongs to my soldiers, little Matis. Didn't you see that your pathetic bunch doesn't stand a chance?'' he teased.”
“''I'll get you! - Someday. - I swear ... by the dragon's breath.'' came the muffled, pain-filled reply from under the helmet.”
“''Swear all you want. You've already lost.''”
He viciously kicked a booted foot into her shivering side and turned to look back over the battlefield and face his troops.
Laughing, he exclaimed , "Look comrades. This is all the great kingdom has to offer against you! No wonder it was so easy to attack and rob the merchants right under its nose!"
His soldiers laughed and cheered. At their feet lay the shattered bodies of the few fools who had opposed them.
Ah, how he enjoyed such moments. It had been a good idea to join forces with Akilia and the others. Although he distrusted that goo-addled Zoraï.
A shimmer in the air made him look to the ground. The Matis had disappeared.
So she had gone into the arms of Jena and had herself revived at the shrine back there in the distance. Oh, let her.
One by one, the other fallen warriors disappear, too, from the blood-soaked ground.
He would be surprised if they were foolish enough to try again.

[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
I awoke at the Karavan shrine, in front of the entrance to the Primordial Roots, in the Knoll Of Dissent.
My whole body ached and even the blessing of Jena was unable to make me forget the horror of the last few minutes. Groaning, I got up and took a few unsteady steps, took a deep breath and the musty, bitter smell of the primeval roots drifting up from the huge hole in the bark behind me stung my nose. Helping to clear my head.
As I started to move I had the impression that some of my bones and muscles were still knitting back together. My health certainly wasn’t at its peak. I relaxed as best as I could and let the rhythm of the run dispel the last of the pain and dizziness that gripped me each time I claimed the goddess's blessing of restoration. Far ahead I saw other Homins running back to the scene of the battle.
They all knew that if they failed, the kingdom would fall into disaster.
We gathered again at the foot of the steep, narrow path to the higher Region. Our earlier, wild and uncoordinated attacks had caused a breach in the marauders' defenses, but a lot of them were still hiding behind the garrison towers and in the impassable terrain behind those.
This time we proceeded in a more coordinated way. Slowly and purposefully, we beat the individual groups of defenders and though sometimes I fell victim to the spells of the opponents, a friend would be there who brought me back to my feet with his magic. The fight was hard, but finally we reached the end of the so-called "ramp" and were able to penetrate deeper into the region.
In the distance I spotted some fleeing figures and I’m sure that I recognized the red-trimmed armor of my earlier tormentor. The coward obviously preferred to retreat, rather than face us. Kicking me when I was down and at his mercy. Despicable. And allying with the Marauders, a heinous act of treason.
I followed the other Homins deeper into the steppe, ready for a sustained and complicated fight. Kitin were still crawling over the dry grass and Cuttler and Torbaks were hiding inside bushes and behind dunes. But our small band continued on its way undeterred.
Finally, however, we came upon a sight that took our breath away.
The marauders had really done a frighteningly good job. Around the outpost of Berello, more fortified towers had sprung up, simple stables had been built, and crude huts stood close together, offering shelter to an army.
This was what we were now facing.
Their warriors outnumbered us at least 3 to 1.
A murmur went through our ranks. How could we defeat this huge army?
But then it was too late for considerations.
A squad broke away from the main army and came charging toward us. We had no choice but to defend ourselves.
The battle was fierce and wave after wave of Marauder units threw themselves at us.
But we remained steadfast. We held our position and even slowly advanced at a crawl.
This had to be Divine Intervention. Jena guided our hands, gave us strength and courage and more than once I called the praise of Jena and my country: “''Jena Ayie! Yrkanis Ayie! Matia Ayie!''”
Then suddenly the enemy's ranks swelled. Their sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm us. We fought on, with courage born of despair. Right in the midst of the great camp, surrounded by enemy warriors. The armor of the newly arrived enemies bore the mark of the bandit Sirgio, whose camp was halfway to the Burning Desert. He and his cohorts had joined the other Marauders in this battle. But, this had actually been to be expected. Where there was profit to be made, opportunists were not far behind.
A sword thrust narrowly missed my belly, and my counterattack was parried by the quick Tryker warrior I faced. In the melee I noticed, something akin to heat lightning over the rolling hills of the steppe. Then a ball of glowing blue energy traced its path across the sky in a high, crackling arc. It burst amidst a group of marauder riflemen entrenched behind the high folds in the dry bark of Berello outpost. Lightning arced from one to the other and further. Twitching, the Men fell to the ground as behind them a few wildp figures scaled the slope. Weapons locked and wildly absorbed in the dance of magic.
"It's the Fyros and the Zoraï!" I exclaimed. A short cheer went up among the Homins fighting for Matia.
With renewed courage, we threw ourselves back into battle. The marauders were desperate. Among them appeared altered animals. Grown to huge sizes and much more aggressive than their relatives.
The evil goo-alchemist Muang Hoi-Gi was actually making common cause with the enemies of the Homin-Nations. His abominations caught many of us off guard and we were hard pressed to stand victorious.
The large, rabid Gingos bred by the strange Fyra named Mezix also intervened in the battle. However, there were not as many as one could have expected. The raid on Mezix' camp a few weeks ago had probably helped to reduce their number.
From time to time I heard the fierce battle cry of a Homin, who shouted out the name: Akilia. So she was here, too, somewhere. Then, over the din of battle I caught angry shouts and curses, aimed at the Zorai Alchemist. As I learned later, Muang had left the alliance when it appeared that the New Land forces were gaining the upper hand. Akilia herself was supposed to have said something about this all being a "test".
For what?
Once again, this was left to speculation.
{{Couillard2}}Finally, the Homins regained the region of the Hidden Source.
The threat of the enemy from the past was once again averted. The battle won, the war far from decided.
Ex-Senator Zelion, traitor to the Fyros-Empire, fell into the hands of the Fyros army. Apparently his allies had no more use for him.
However, I am still convinced that there is another traitor somewhere in the Empire.
Rocho Valerio and his deserters were a problem the Matis-Kingdom had to deal with. Muang was threatening all Homins, and the strange Nung Horongi had been turned over to the Trykers, because they had evidence that suggested he was involved in Governor Still Wyler's assassination.
The coming months and years of Yena would certainly not be easy for the Homins of the New Lands. But, like the brave 30 warriors who stood up to a superior force, all four peoples of the New Lands will fight to determine their own destiny!
</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

The short war for the Hidden Source

2023-02-16T23:34:25Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Der kurze Krieg um die Versteckte Quelle
|ES =La Guerra relámpago para la Fuente Oculta
|EN =The short war for the Hidden Source
|FR =La guerre éclair pour la Source Cachée
|H =
|palette=matis
}}</noinclude>
[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|'''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|Lylanea Vicciona]]''', ''Ranger, Barde of the Four Nations''|
<poem>''These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining.''
{{Couillard2}}As I walked towards the battle to come, I prayed inside the confines of my Kara-Parok helmet:
“''Jena, keep all our seeds in Your hands and let Your breath strengthen our souls. Give us the strength to survive this danger to continue serving You.''”
“''These marauders are truly superbly equipped and trained''”, it flashed through my mind as I spotted the first fortifications that had been erected on the slopes of the incline leading towards the Hidden Source Region. Within a few short days, the enemy troops had managed to build and fortify some formidable defenses. The ascent from the Knoll Of Dissent Region was blocked by two towers and quite a large number of soldiers in black armor stood guard upon the path up into the steppe.
I turned to look around at the faces of my comrades in arms. Our band consisted of about Thirty to Forty Homins, about half Matis half Tryker, with a few Fyros and even fewer Zorai, who had chosen to fight at our side. Most seemed confident and brave, but I was sure that some, like me, were struggling to keep their confidence at the sight of the enemy forces and hid their fear beneath their helmets. Few we were. Possibly too few. I hoped and prayed for strength in the face of our foes.
We had information that a parallel attack to ours, launched from the Burning Desert by the Zoraï and Fyros would occur, I had no idea whether these forces were any more numerous than the smallish Matis force that had assembled on this day. True, it was a collection of truly brave Homins and great warriors, but still we were achingly few in number. A few who were ready to face the enemy and do their best to defend their hard won freedom though.
This thought gave me the strength I had been looking for and I walked on with my head held high. We faced the Kitin and won. We had faced worse than this.
I abhorred fighting other Homins, but to protect my people and the Homins of the New Lands, I had to do it. I had sworn an oath to king Yrkanis and I would keep it.
Slowly, our small band of warriors walked across the plain in front of the steep cliffs that bordered the higher plain where the enemy stood. We saw their strength and might and I shivered.
They saw us too.
They jeered, laughed and taunted us.
They pointed their fingers at the small, pathetic group of warriors that the New Lands had raised. No, this could never be a serious threat to their army.

[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
Standing tall on a jagged outcropping, Rocho di Anichio, the chief of the renegade First Deserters, smiled coldly. This ragtag band would not stand a chance against his trained warriors and those of his allies. His gaze went out over the plain beneath the foothills of the Hidden Source Region and the about 30 Homins that came walking up to his position.
Smirking, he watched their pathetic first attempt at an attack. Undisciplined as a panicked herd of Yubos they were. Wild and impetuous, the fighters charged forward, leaving their magi far behind and out of range of any attempts to heal. He almost had to laugh. How incredibly embarrassing for "His Highness, Yrkanis", the bastard, that such vermin were his only line of defense.
He watched as the warriors ran fiercely against the marauder troops. And yes, they even managed to cause a small breach in the infantry ranks. But to the well-trained battle mages up here on the cliffs, they were no more than a few flies to squash.
Bubbling Acid projectiles hissed and sprayed down on the battlefield. Clashing, bitter cold burst from the hands of other magi, encasing the attackers in ice as thick as a Shala's legs. Ah, he loved to watch the magi. How their well-practiced, disciplined movements channeled the sap and summoned the elements by means of it. Not a word passed their lips, only their movements killed.
Well, he liked it, but he loved close combat even more. Again, it was movements that decided over life and death, but it was an entirely different dance.
One warrior dared and managed to break through the ranks of his defenders. Dispelled Magic beaded harmlessly off an invisible bubble surrounding him, like water. Yes, he had heard of that. Some homins could temporarily negate any magic close to them by focusing their inherent sap.
Let's see how long this one would hold out. Especially since this aura gave no protection against swords and pistol shots.
As the fight grew nearer, he recognized the sleek lines of female armor.
A Matis, judging by the figure. Wearing finely crafted amber-colored armor. She sprinted up the incline and right toward his position with light footed grace. She deftly dodged the swords of several warriors and ducked under most bullets of the riflemen. Some ricocheted off or stuck in her armor. She probably aimed to distract the magi, or even kill them, so that her companions further down had an easier approach to the melee. Granted, she actually reached the edge of his position and a mage fell victim to her sword. But then it was over. She hardly stood a chance.
The magi turned their spells on her and with a shriek she went down under the sudden onslaught of deadly energy.
Calmly, he walked over and looked down at her.
She lay limp, twitching a bit. So far her helmet and armor were mostly intact, but the powerful Shockwave Spell that hit her must have broken every bone in her body as her protective aura weakened and finally vanished.
A thin thread of blood seeped from her helmet, she coughed in agony as he leaned over her, trying to make out something through the slits in her helmet. Amber eyes, full of rage and pain, sparkled within. Probably recognizing the officer's seal on his armor and the colors of his tribe.
“''You... Bastard! - You're mine!'' she spit out in a well of blood.”
A sudden wave of amusement made him laugh in her upturned face.
“''Hahaha! Right now your soon to be dead body belongs to my soldiers, little Matis. Didn't you see that your pathetic bunch doesn't stand a chance?'' he teased.”
“''I'll get you! - Someday. - I swear ... by the dragon's breath.'' came the muffled, pain-filled reply from under the helmet.”
“''Swear all you want. You've already lost.''”
He viciously kicked a booted foot into her shivering side and turned to look back over the battlefield and face his troops.
Laughing, he exclaimed , "Look comrades. This is all the great kingdom has to offer against you! No wonder it was so easy to attack and rob the merchants right under its nose!"
His soldiers laughed and cheered. At their feet lay the shattered bodies of the few fools who had opposed them.
Ah, how he enjoyed such moments. It had been a good idea to join forces with Akilia and the others. Although he distrusted that goo-addled Zoraï.
A shimmer in the air made him look to the ground. The Matis had disappeared.
So she had gone into the arms of Jena and had herself revived at the shrine back there in the distance. Oh, let her.
One by one, the other fallen warriors disappear, too, from the blood-soaked ground.
He would be surprised if they were foolish enough to try again.

[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
I awoke at the Karavan shrine, in front of the entrance to the Primordial Roots, in the Knoll Of Dissent.
My whole body ached and even the blessing of Jena was unable to make me forget the horror of the last few minutes. Groaning, I got up and took a few unsteady steps, took a deep breath and the musty, bitter smell of the primeval roots drifting up from the huge hole in the bark behind me stung my nose. Helping to clear my head.
As I started to move I had the impression that some of my bones and muscles were still knitting back together. My health certainly wasn’t at its peak. I relaxed as best as I could and let the rhythm of the run dispel the last of the pain and dizziness that gripped me each time I claimed the goddess's blessing of restoration. Far ahead I saw other Homins running back to the scene of the battle.
They all knew that if they failed, the kingdom would fall into disaster.
We gathered again at the foot of the steep, narrow path to the higher Region. Our earlier, wild and uncoordinated attacks had caused a breach in the marauders' defenses, but a lot of them were still hiding behind the garrison towers and in the impassable terrain behind those.
This time we proceeded in a more coordinated way. Slowly and purposefully, we beat the individual groups of defenders and though sometimes I fell victim to the spells of the opponents, a friend would be there who brought me back to my feet with his magic. The fight was hard, but finally we reached the end of the so-called "ramp" and were able to penetrate deeper into the region.
In the distance I spotted some fleeing figures and I’m sure that I recognized the red-trimmed armor of my earlier tormentor. The coward obviously preferred to retreat, rather than face us. Kicking me when I was down and at his mercy. Despicable. And allying with the Marauders, a heinous act of treason.
I followed the other Homins deeper into the steppe, ready for a sustained and complicated fight. Kitin were still crawling over the dry grass and Cuttler and Torbaks were hiding inside bushes and behind dunes. But our small band continued on its way undeterred.
Finally, however, we came upon a sight that took our breath away.
The marauders had really done a frighteningly good job. Around the outpost of Berello, more fortified towers had sprung up, simple stables had been built, and crude huts stood close together, offering shelter to an army.
This was what we were now facing.
Their warriors outnumbered us at least 3 to 1.
A murmur went through our ranks. How could we defeat this huge army?
But then it was too late for considerations.
A squad broke away from the main army and came charging toward us. We had no choice but to defend ourselves.
The battle was fierce and wave after wave of Marauder units threw themselves at us.
But we remained steadfast. We held our position and even slowly advanced at a crawl.
This had to be Divine Intervention. Jena guided our hands, gave us strength and courage and more than once I called the praise of Jena and my country: “''Jena Ayie! Yrkanis Ayie! Matia Ayie!''”
Then suddenly the enemy's ranks swelled. Their sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm us. We fought on, with courage born of despair. Right in the midst of the great camp, surrounded by enemy warriors. The armor of the newly arrived enemies bore the mark of the bandit Sirgio, whose camp was halfway to the Burning Desert. He and his cohorts had joined the other Marauders in this battle. But, this had actually been to be expected. Where there was profit to be made, opportunists were not far behind.
A sword thrust narrowly missed my belly, and my counterattack was parried by the quick Tryker warrior I faced. In the melee I noticed, something akin to heat lightning over the rolling hills of the steppe. Then a ball of glowing blue energy traced its path across the sky in a high, crackling arc. It burst amidst a group of marauder riflemen entrenched behind the high folds in the dry bark of Berello outpost. Lightning arced from one to the other and further. Twitching, the Men fell to the ground as behind them a few wildp figures scaled the slope. Weapons locked and wildly absorbed in the dance of magic.
"It's the Fyros and the Zoraï!" I exclaimed. A short cheer went up among the Homins fighting for Matia.
With renewed courage, we threw ourselves back into battle. The marauders were desperate. Among them appeared altered animals. Grown to huge sizes and much more aggressive than their relatives.
The evil goo-alchemist Muang Hoi-Gi was actually making common cause with the enemies of the Homin-Nations. His abominations caught many of us off guard and we were hard pressed to stand victorious.
The large, rabid Gingos bred by the strange Fyra named Mezix also intervened in the battle. However, there were not as many as one could have expected. The raid on Mezix' camp a few weeks ago had probably helped to reduce their number.
From time to time I heard the fierce battle cry of a Homin, who shouted out the name: Akilia. So she was here, too, somewhere. Then, over the din of battle I caught angry shouts and curses, aimed at the Zorai Alchemist. As I learned later, Muang had left the alliance when it appeared that the New Land forces were gaining the upper hand. Akilia herself was supposed to have said something about this all being a "test".
For what?
Once again, this was left to speculation.
{{Couillard2}}Finally, the Homins regained the region of the Hidden Source.
The threat of the enemy from the past was once again averted. The battle won, the war far from decided.
Ex-Senator Zelion, traitor to the Fyros-Empire, fell into the hands of the Fyros army. Apparently his allies had no more use for him.
However, I am still convinced that there is another traitor somewhere in the Empire.
Rocho Valerio and his deserters were a problem the Matis-Kingdom had to deal with. Muang was threatening all Homins, and the strange Nung Horongi had been turned over to the Trykers, because they had evidence that suggested he was involved in Governor Still Wyler's assassination.
The coming months and years of Yena would certainly not be easy for the Homins of the New Lands. But, like the brave 30 warriors who stood up to a superior force, all four peoples of the New Lands will fight to determine their own destiny!
</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

The short war for the Hidden Source

2023-02-16T23:32:00Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Der kurze Krieg um die Versteckte Quelle
|ES =La Guerra relámpago para la Fuente Oculta
|EN =The short war for the Hidden Source
|FR =La guerre éclair pour la Source Cachée
|H =
|palette=matis
}}</noinclude>
[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|'''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|Lylanea Vicciona]]''', ''Ranger, Barde of the Four Nations''|
<poem>''These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining.''
{{Couillard2}}As I walked towards the battle to come, I prayed inside the confines of my Kara-Parok helmet:
“''Jena, keep all our seeds in Your hands and let Your breath strengthen our souls. Give us the strength to survive this danger to continue serving You.''”
“''These marauders are truly superbly equipped and trained''”, it flashed through my mind as I spotted the first fortifications that had been erected on the slopes of the incline leading towards the Hidden Source Region. Within a few short days, the enemy troops had managed to build and fortify some formidable defenses. The ascent from the Knoll Of Dissent Region was blocked by two towers and quite a large number of soldiers in black armor stood guard upon the path up into the steppe.
I turned to look around at the faces of my comrades in arms. Our band consisted of about Thirty to Forty Homins, about half Matis half Tryker, with a few Fyros and even fewer Zorai, who had chosen to fight at our side. Most seemed confident and brave, but I was sure that some, like me, were struggling to keep their confidence at the sight of the enemy forces and hid their fear beneath their helmets. Few we were. Possibly too few. I hoped and prayed for strength in the face of our foes.
We had information that a parallel attack to ours, launched from the Burning Desert by the Zoraï and Fyros would occur, I had no idea whether these forces were any more numerous than the smallish Matis force that had assembled on this day. True, it was a collection of truly brave Homins and great warriors, but still we were achingly few in number. A few who were ready to face the enemy and do their best to defend their hard won freedom though.
This thought gave me the strength I had been looking for and I walked on with my head held high. We faced the Kitin and won. We had faced worse than this.
I abhorred fighting other Homins, but to protect my people and the Homins of the New Lands, I had to do it. I had sworn an oath to king Yrkanis and I would keep it.
Slowly, our small band of warriors walked across the plain in front of the steep cliffs that bordered the higher plain where the enemy stood. We saw their strength and might and I shivered.
They saw us too.
They jeered, laughed and taunted us.
They pointed their fingers at the small, pathetic group of warriors that the New Lands had raised. No, this could never be a serious threat to their army.

[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
Standing tall on a jagged outcropping, Rocho di Anichio, the chief of the renegade First Deserters, smiled coldly. This ragtag band would not stand a chance against his trained warriors and those of his allies. His gaze went out over the plain beneath the foothills of the Hidden Source Region and the about 30 Homins that came walking up to his position.
Smirking, he watched their pathetic first attempt at an attack. Undisciplined as a panicked herd of Yobos they were. Wild and impetuous, the fighters charged forward, leaving their magi far behind and out of range of any attempts to heal. He almost had to laugh. How incredibly embarrassing for "His Highness Yrkanis", the bastard, that such vermin were his only line of defense.
He watched as the warriors ran fiercely against the marauder troops. And yes, they even managed to cause a small breach in the infantry ranks. But to the well-trained battle mages up here on the cliffs, they were no more than a few flies to squash.
Bubbling Acid projectiles hissed and sprayed down on the battlefield. Clashing, bitter cold burst from the hands of other magi, encasing the attackers in ice as thick as a Shala's legs. Ah, he loved to watch the magi. How their well-practiced, disciplined movements channeled the sap and summoned the elements by means of it. Not a word passed their lips, only their movements killed.
Well, he liked it, but he loved close combat even more. Again, it was movements that decided over life and death, but it was an entirely different dance.
One warrior dared and managed to break through the ranks of his defenders. Dispelled Magic beaded harmlessly off an invisible bubble surrounding him, like water. Yes, he had heard of that. Some homins could temporarily negate any magic close to them by focusing their inherent sap.
Let's see how long this one would hold out. Especially since this aura gave no protection against swords and pistol shots.
As the fight grew nearer, he recognized the sleek lines of female armor.
A Matis, judging by the figure. Wearing finely crafted amber-colored armor. She sprinted up the incline and right toward his position with light footed grace. She deftly dodged the swords of several warriors and ducked under most bullets of the riflemen. Some ricocheted off or stuck in her armor. She probably aimed to distract the magi, or even kill them, so that her companions further down had an easier approach to the melee. Granted, she actually reached the edge of his position and a mage fell victim to her sword. But then it was over. She hardly stood a chance.
The magi turned their spells on her and with a shriek she went down under the sudden onslaught of deadly energy.
Calmly, he walked over and looked down at her.
She lay limp, twitching a bit. So far her helmet and armor were mostly intact, but the powerful Shockwave Spell that hit her must have broken every bone in her body as her protective aura weakened and finally vanished.
A thin thread of blood seeped from her helmet, she coughed in agony as he leaned over her, trying to make out something through the slits in her helmet. Amber eyes, full of rage and pain, sparkled within. Probably recognizing the officer's seal on his armor and the colors of his tribe.
“''You... Bastard! - You're mine!'' she spit out in a well of blood.”
A sudden wave of amusement made him laugh in her upturned face.
“''Hahaha! Right now your soon to be dead body belongs to my soldiers, little Matis. Didn't you see that your pathetic bunch doesn't stand a chance?'' he teased.”
“''I'll get you! - Someday. - I swear ... by the dragon's breath.'' came the muffled, pain-filled reply from under the helmet.”
“''Swear all you want. You've already lost.''”
He viciously kicked a booted foot into her shivering side and turned to look back over the battlefield and face his troops.
Laughing, he exclaimed , "Look comrades. This is all the great kingdom has to offer against you! No wonder it was so easy to attack and rob the merchants right under its nose!"
His soldiers laughed and cheered. At their feet lay the shattered bodies of the few fools who had opposed them.
Ah, how he enjoyed such moments. It had been a good idea to join forces with Akilia and the others. Although he distrusted that goo-addled Zoraï.
A shimmer in the air made him look to the ground. The Matis had disappeared.
So she had gone into the arms of Jena and had herself revived at the shrine back there in the distance. Oh, let her.
One by one, the other fallen warriors disappear, too, from the blood-soaked ground.
He would be surprised if they were foolish enough to try again.

[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
I awoke at the Karavan shrine, in front of the entrance to the Primordial Roots, in the Knoll Of Dissent.
My whole body ached and even the blessing of Jena was unable to make me forget the horror of the last few minutes. Groaning, I got up and took a few unsteady steps, took a deep breath and the musty, bitter smell of the primeval roots drifting up from the huge hole in the bark behind me stung my nose. Helping to clear my head.
As I started to move I had the impression that some of my bones and muscles were still knitting back together. My health certainly wasn’t at its peak. I relaxed as best as I could and let the rhythm of the run dispel the last of the pain and dizziness that gripped me each time I claimed the goddess's blessing of restoration. Far ahead I saw other Homins running back to the scene of the battle.
They all knew that if they failed, the kingdom would fall into disaster.
We gathered again at the foot of the steep, narrow path to the higher Region. Our earlier, wild and uncoordinated attacks had caused a breach in the marauders' defenses, but a lot of them were still hiding behind the garrison towers and in the impassable terrain behind those.
This time we proceeded in a more coordinated way. Slowly and purposefully, we beat the individual groups of defenders and though sometimes I fell victim to the spells of the opponents, a friend would be there who brought me back to my feet with his magic. The fight was hard, but finally we reached the end of the so-called "ramp" and were able to penetrate deeper into the region.
In the distance I spotted some fleeing figures and I’m sure that I recognized the red-trimmed armor of my earlier tormentor. The coward obviously preferred to retreat, rather than face us. Kicking me when I was down and at his mercy. Despicable. And allying with the Marauders, a heinous act of treason.
I followed the other Homins deeper into the steppe, ready for a sustained and complicated fight. Kitin were still crawling over the dry grass and Cuttler and Torbaks were hiding inside bushes and behind dunes. But our small band continued on its way undeterred.
Finally, however, we came upon a sight that took our breath away.
The marauders had really done a frighteningly good job. Around the outpost of Berello, more fortified towers had sprung up, simple stables had been built, and crude huts stood close together, offering shelter to an army.
This was what we were now facing.
Their warriors outnumbered us at least 3 to 1.
A murmur went through our ranks. How could we defeat this huge army?
But then it was too late for considerations.
A squad broke away from the main army and came charging toward us. We had no choice but to defend ourselves.
The battle was fierce and wave after wave of Marauder units threw themselves at us.
But we remained steadfast. We held our position and even slowly advanced at a crawl.
This had to be Divine Intervention. Jena guided our hands, gave us strength and courage and more than once I called the praise of Jena and my country: “''Jena Ayie! Yrkanis Ayie! Matia Ayie!''”
Then suddenly the enemy's ranks swelled. Their sheer numbers threatened to overwhelm us. We fought on, with courage born of despair. Right in the midst of the great camp, surrounded by enemy warriors. The armor of the newly arrived enemies bore the mark of the bandit Sirgio, whose camp was halfway to the Burning Desert. He and his cohorts had joined the other Marauders in this battle. But, this had actually been to be expected. Where there was profit to be made, opportunists were not far behind.
A sword thrust narrowly missed my belly, and my counterattack was parried by the quick Tryker warrior I faced. In the melee I noticed, something akin to heat lightning over the rolling hills of the steppe. Then a ball of glowing blue energy traced its path across the sky in a high, crackling arc. It burst amidst a group of marauder riflemen entrenched behind the high folds in the dry bark of Berello outpost. Lightning arced from one to the other and further. Twitching, the Men fell to the ground as behind them a few wildp figures scaled the slope. Weapons locked and wildly absorbed in the dance of magic.
"It's the Fyros and the Zoraï!" I exclaimed. A short cheer went up among the Homins fighting for Matia.
With renewed courage, we threw ourselves back into battle. The marauders were desperate. Among them appeared altered animals. Grown to huge sizes and much more aggressive than their relatives.
The evil goo-alchemist Muang Hoi-Gi was actually making common cause with the enemies of the Homin-Nations. His abominations caught many of us off guard and we were hard pressed to stand victorious.
The large, rabid Gingos bred by the strange Fyra named Mezix also intervened in the battle. However, there were not as many as one could have expected. The raid on Mezix' camp a few weeks ago had probably helped to reduce their number.
From time to time I heard the fierce battle cry of a Homin, who shouted out the name: Akilia. So she was here, too, somewhere. Then, over the din of battle I caught angry shouts and curses, aimed at the Zorai Alchemist. As I learned later, Muang had left the alliance when it appeared that the New Land forces were gaining the upper hand. Akilia herself was supposed to have said something about this all being a "test".
For what?
Once again, this was left to speculation.
{{Couillard2}}Finally, the Homins regained the region of the Hidden Source.
The threat of the enemy from the past was once again averted. The battle won, the war far from decided.
Ex-Senator Zelion, traitor to the Fyros-Empire, fell into the hands of the Fyros army. Apparently his allies had no more use for him.
However, I am still convinced that there is another traitor somewhere in the Empire.
Rocho Valerio and his deserters were a problem the Matis-Kingdom had to deal with. Muang was threatening all Homins, and the strange Nung Horongi had been turned over to the Trykers, because they had evidence that suggested he was involved in Governor Still Wyler's assassination.
The coming months and years of Yena would certainly not be easy for the Homins of the New Lands. But, like the brave 30 warriors who stood up to a superior force, all four peoples of the New Lands will fight to determine their own destiny!
</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

The Refugee's Lantern

2023-01-23T00:39:48Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Die Laterne des Flüchtlings|DEs=0
|ES =El farol del refugiado|ESs=1
|EN =The Refugee's Lantern|ENs=4
|FR =La lanterne du réfugié|FRs=4
|RU =
|H = 1
|palette=atys
}}
[[File:AtysoelC2022-12-27 22-27-59Lylanea.png|400px|right]]
'''<big>A piece of music for Atysmas</big>'''
{{Quotation|''Once silence returns, the [[:en:User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Bard of the Four Lands''']] bows with gratitude to the audience.''|
<poem>''Woren Siloy, dear homins.''
''I am very happy that you are all here today to enjoy together this evening full of art and friendship. I have also prepared something and I really hope that you will like this little experiment.''
''I will not use my voice this time, but try to let the music speak for itself. To stimulate your imagination. Music can be so powerful and evoke images in us that are stronger than any spoken word. Many of you know that I usually use my lute to accompany my singing. But today I have brought out an old gift. A memory ...''
''The bard takes out a violin and a violin bow from her backpack and smiles a little wistfully. A richly decorated instrument, with the seal of the Matis royal house discreetly worked into the pattern. She then smiles brightly into the round, places a small cloth over the edge of the violin, sets the instrument in place, tunes it briefly, and then begins to play'':</poem>
{{Quotation| |<center>
<poem>
<big>'''♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
She sways slowly with the notes. The bow glides gently, almost tenderly over the strings, eliciting a delicate, somewhat mournful melody from the instrument.
<big>'''♪♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The melody tells of gently falling snow, which covers the valleys and hills, meadows, trees and bushes. Of hoarfrost on branches and roots, glistening in the sunlight.
<big>'''♪♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
Through the magic of the melody, the daylight slowly fades into the red of the sunset and finally into night. A dark forest, the snow becomes denser, the wind more icy.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The player makes the violin tell of a figure slowly trudging through the snow. Bent against the wind, wrapped in too thin robes, holding a flickering lamp in front of him. In the other arm a small bundle.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The music suggests that something is moving in the bundle. A tiny body, a small face, sleeping fitfully. Tired arms hold the baby tightly and carry it, hastily through the cold night.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The artist ducks, writhes as if in fear, and the melody grows wilder. Tells of something dark, evil that pursues the couple through the winter night. Chattering, clicking, screeching, roaring. Many skinny legs hurry through the snow.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♫'''</big>
She recreates the homin's movement in the snow as she plays. Staggers forward a few steps. Lets the threat in the music become more insistent, falls to her knees, ducks, makes herself small. Gives up. The music stops.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♫'''</big>
Then she plays a soft, trilling sound: the lantern still gives light.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♫'''</big>
She stops again, then straightens up and plays a new, heroic melody:
Homins burst out of the darkness of the forest. In the light of the lantern they rush towards the monsters. Brave and determined.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
Then, eyes closed, the bard lets the melodies fight, monsters against warriors. The battle surges back and forth. The violin shrieks discordantly, calls like a war-horn, clangs like a sword, hisses like magic and roars in pain.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
It lets the clashing, contradictory melodies slowly ebb away. The melody of the warriors prevails, victorious. - A helping hand reaches out to the figure and is grasped.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
She makes the melody of the fugitive merge with that of the heroes: together, the homins depart. Without a backward glance, at the dead bodies of the Kitin. The lantern wanders through the trees.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The Matissa opens her eyes, looks at the audience as she delicately continues to play, and speaks softly: Help each other.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪'''</big>
The melody tells once again of gently falling snow covering the bushes, trees, meadows, valleys and hills. Of shimmering hoarfrost on branches and roots glistening in the light of a lantern slowly disappearing in the distance.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The music of the violin slowly fades away…
</poem></center>
}}
}}
 
----
<center>''This piece was performed by its composer during the [[Tales of Atysmas 2621 vigil|Tales vigil]] of [[Atysmas]] 2621. (OOC: Christmas 2022)''
----
 
<noinclude>{{Portal|Literature|Animation}}
[[Category:Tales and Legends of Atysmas]][[Category:Atysmas 2021]]</noinclude>

The Refugee's Lantern

2023-01-23T00:35:20Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Die Laterne des Flüchtlings|DEs=0
|ES =El farol del refugiado|ESs=1
|EN =The Refugee's Lantern|ENs=4
|FR =La lanterne du réfugié|FRs=4
|RU =
|H = 1
|palette=atys
}}
[[File:AtysoelC2022-12-27 22-27-59Lylanea.png|400px|right]]
'''<big>A piece of music for Atysmas</big>'''
{{Quotation|''Once silence returns, the [[:en:User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Bard of the Four Lands''']] bows with gratitude to the audience.''|
<poem>''Woren Siloy, dear homins.''
''I am very happy that you are all here today to enjoy together this evening full of art and friendship. I have also prepared something and I really hope that you will like this little experiment.''
''I will not use my voice this time, but try to let the music speak for itself. To stimulate your imagination. Music can be so powerful and evoke images in us that are stronger than any spoken word. Many of you know that I usually use my lute to accompany my singing. But today I have brought out an old gift. A memory ...''
''The bard takes out a violin and a violin bow from her backpack and smiles a little wistfully. A richly decorated instrument, with the seal of the Matis royal house discreetly worked into the pattern. She then smiles brightly into the round, places a small cloth over the edge of the violin, sets the instrument in place, tunes it briefly, and then begins to play'':</poem>
{{Quotation| |<center>
<poem>
<big>'''♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
She sways slowly with the notes. The bow glides gently, almost tenderly over the strings, eliciting a delicate, somewhat mournful melody from the instrument.
<big>'''♪♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The melody tells of gently falling snow, which covers the valleys and hills, meadows, trees and bushes. Of hoarfrost on branches and roots, glistening in the sunlight.
<big>'''♪♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
It lets through the magic of the melody, the daylight slowly fades into the red of the sunset and finally into the night. A dark forest, the snow becomes denser, the wind more icy.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The player lets the violin tell, of a figure slowly trudging through the snow. Bent against the wind, wrapped in too thin robes, holding a flickering lamp in front of him. In the other arm a small bundle.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
Music suggests that something is moving in the bundle. A tiny body, a small face, sleeping fitfully. Tired arms hold the baby tightly and carry it, hastily through the cold night.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The artist ducks, writhes as if in fear, and the melody grows wilder. Tells of something dark, evil that pursues the couple through the winter night. Chattering, clicking, screeching, roaring. Many skinny legs hurry through the snow.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♫'''</big>
The violin recreates the homin's movement in the snow as she plays. Staggers forward a few steps. Lets the threat in the music become more insistent, falls to her knees, ducks, makes herself small. Gives up. The music stops.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♫'''</big>
Then it plays a soft, trilling sound: the lantern still gives light.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♫'''</big>
She stops again, then straightens up and plays a new, heroic melody:
Homins burst out of the darkness of the forest. In the light of the lantern they rush towards the monsters. Brave and determined.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
Then, eyes closed, the bard lets the melodies fight, monsters against warriors. The battle surges back and forth. The violin shrieks discordantly, calls like a war horn, clangs like a sword, hisses like magic and roars in pain.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
It lets the clashing, contradictory melodies slowly ebb away. The melody of the warriors prevails, victorious. - A helping hand reaches out to the figure and is grasped.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
It makes the melody of the fugitive merge with that of the heroes: together, the homins depart. Without a backward glance, at the dead bodies of the Kitin. The lantern wanders through the trees.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The Matissa opens her eyes, looks at the audience as she delicately continues to play, and speaks softly: Help each other.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪'''</big>
The melody tells once again of gently falling snow covering the bushes, trees, meadows, valleys and hills. Of shimmering hoarfrost on branches and roots glistening in the light of a lantern slowly disappearing in the distance.
<big>'''♪♫♫♪♪♫♪♪♪♫'''</big>
The music of the violin slowly fades away…
</poem></center>
}}
}}
 
----
<center>''This piece was performed by its composer during the [[Tales of Atysmas 2621 vigil|Tales vigil]] of [[Atysmas]] 2621. (OOC: Christmas 2022)''
----
 
<noinclude>{{Portal|Literature|Animation}}
[[Category:Tales and Legends of Atysmas]][[Category:Atysmas 2021]]</noinclude>

Song for Anlor Winn

2023-01-23T00:13:21Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Lied für Anlor Winn
|EN =Song for Anlor Winn
|FR = Chanson pour Anlor Winn
|H =
|palette=ranger
}}</noinclude>
<poem>
♪♫♪♪♫ ''Lylanea begins to softly play a gentle melody….'' ♪♫♪♪♫
: See the wind there, my child.
: Follow it with your gaze,
: Through leaves and branches,
: Over root and moss.
: He plays with the leaves.
: He sees what you do.
: He rushes towards you.
♫♫♪♫ ''Lylanea plays a faster melody….'' ♪♫♪♫♫
::: '''Come dance with me.'''
::: '''Do not think of fear.'''
::: '''Come dance with me.'''

♪♫♪♪♫ ''Lylanea plays slower again….'' ♪♫♪♪♫
: Listen to the wind, my child,
: Listen to his word, lend him your ear
: As it murmurs in the Forest,
: Sings in Dunes and Lakes,
: Whispers in the Jungle.
: He knows your secret.
: He whispers to thee.
♫♫♪♫ ''Lylanea plays faster again….'' ♪♫♪♫
::: '''Come learn from me.'''
::: '''Think about sorrow,'''
::: '''Come learn from me.'''

♪♫♪♪♫ ''Lylanea makes the melody slow down again….'' ♪♫♪♪♫
: Come feel the wind, my child.
: Feel it with your heart.
: It blows through your hair,
: Lightly pinches your nose,
: Pushes you from behind,
: Embraces you from the front.
: He takes your hands.
♪♫♪♫♪♫ ''Lylanea continues to play slowly, but then gradually speeds up….'' ♪♫♪♫♪♫♫
::: '''Come live with me.'''
::: '''I am always with you.'''
::: '''Come live with me.'''
: Wind is always and forever
: A faithful companion.
: He will not judge us,
: He guides us and listens to us.

♪♫♪♫ ''Lylanea plays the chorus once more and then lets the melody fall silent….'' ♪♪♫♪
''She bows respectfully and, shivering slightly in the wind, waves to the crowd with a smile.
</poem>

----
<div align=center>''This song has been created by [[User:Lylanea Vicciona|Lylanea]] for the [[Anlor Winn/Storytelling JA2620|2620 Anlor Winn Convention]].'' (OOC : Halloween 2022)''
----
<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature|Animation}}
[[Category:Tales and Legends of Anlor Winn]] [[Category:Halloween 2022]] [[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

The Refugee's Lantern

2023-01-19T23:35:27Z

Acridiel: Created page with "Woren Siloy, dear homins. I am very happy that you are all here today to enjoy together this evening full of art and friendship. I have also prepared something and I really..."

Woren Siloy, dear homins.
I am very happy that you are all here today to enjoy together this evening full of art and friendship.
I have also prepared something and I really hope that you will like this little experiment.

I will not use my voice this time, but try to let the music speak for itself. To stimulate your imagination.

Music can be so powerful and evoke images in us that are stronger than any spoken word.

Many of you know that I usually use my lute to accompany my singing. For today I have brought out an old gift. A memory ...

Lylanea takes out a violin and a violin bow from her backpack and smiles a little wistfully. A richly decorated instrument, with the seal of the Matis royal house discreetly worked into the pattern.

She then smiles brightly into the round, places a small cloth over the edge of the violin, sets the instrument in place, tunes it briefly, and then begins to play.

She sways slowly with the notes. The bow glides gently, almost tenderly over the strings, eliciting a delicate, somewhat mournful melody from the instrument.

<center>
<poem>

Lylanea's song tells of gently falling snow, which covers the valleys and hills, meadows, trees and bushes. Of hoarfrost on branches and roots, glistening in the sunlight.

It lets through the magic of the melody, the daylight slowly fades into the red of the sunset and finally into the night. A dark forest, the snow becomes denser, the wind more icy.

Lyl lets the violin tell, of a figure slowly trudging through the snow. Bent against the wind, wrapped in too thin robes, holding a flickering lamp in front of him. In the other arm a small bundle.

Lylaneas 's music suggests that something is moving in the bundle. A tiny body, a small face, sleeping fitfully. Tired arms hold the baby tightly and carry it, hastily through the cold night.

The artist ducks, writhes as if in fear, and the melody grows wilder. Tells of something dark, evil that pursues the couple through the winter night. Chattering, clicking, screeching, roaring. Many skinny legs hurry through the snow.

Lyl recreates the homin's movement in the snow as she plays. Staggers forward a few steps. Lets the threat in the music become more insistent, falls to her knees, ducks, makes herself small. Gives up. The music stops.

Then it plays a soft, trilling sound: The lantern still gives light.

She stops again, then straightens up and plays a new, heroic melody:
Homins burst out of the darkness of the forest. In the light of the lantern they rush towards the monsters. Brave and determined.

The bard lets the melodies fight, monsters against warriors. Lyl's eyes remain closed. The battle surges back and forth. The violin shrieks discordantly, calls like a war horn, clangs like a sword, hisses like magic and roars in pain.

It lets the clashing, contradictory melodies slowly ebb away. The melody of the warriors prevails, victorious. - A helping hand reaches out to the figure and is grasped.

It makes the melody of the fugitive merge with that of the heroes: together, the homins depart. Without a backward glance, at the dead bodies of the Kitin. The lantern wanders through the trees.

Lyl opens her eyes, looks at the audience as she delicately continues to play, and speaks softly: Help each other.

Lylaneas's song tells of gently falling snow covering the bushes, trees, meadows, valleys and hills. Of shimmering hoarfrost on branches and roots glistening in the light of a lantern slowly disappearing in the distance.
She lets the melody fade out ...
</poem>
</center>

Lylanea bows gratefully to the homins

User:Lylanea Vicciona

2022-09-27T16:05:45Z

Acridiel: /* Short poems */

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|URL-1=User:Lylanea Vicciona
|bg_Tab-1=#{{ColorAtys|type=bg|group=matis}}
|Pic-1=The Free Soul guild-icon.png

|Tab-2={{3DText|text='''OOC information'''}}
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|DE=User:Lylanea Vicciona 
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}}{{clear}}</noinclude>{{Homin
|first=Lylanea
|name=Vicciona
|lucio=Lylanea_avatar.jpg
|meaning=
|title=Bard of the Four Lands
|race=[[Portal:Matis|Matis]]
|sex=Female
|nation=None
|organization=Rangers
|worship=None
|faction=[[Rangers]]
|guild= [[Guild:The Free Soul|The Free Soul]]
|rank=High Officer
|birth= Unknown
|death=Alive
|mother= Lydina
|father= Niccio
|character=Homina
}}
<noinclude>{{#babel:de|en-3|es-0|fr-0|ru-0}}</noinclude>
 
=Biography=
This is the story of Lylanea Vicciona. Humble servant to all Homins, Bard of the Four Lands, Warrior Poet and blabbermouth extraordinaire.
 
== Childhood ==
Lylanea was born with her twin sister Lynda on an island off the coast of the Old Kingdom. Her parents and other refugees had sought shelter there as the Kitin destroyed the old lands. They were not among those who were sent to the prime roots by the mystical rainbow-bridges. But maybe it was better that way. The island was peaceful and was never bothered by the Kitin. 
Early on, Lyl, as she was called, showed a talent for music and singing. Her sister was more concerned with frolicking and wrestling with boys. 
Later, it was Lyn who hung out with other young folks in town, while Lyl buried her nose in books. 
When the two of them had grown up to be young women, they asked their parents, mainly on Lynda's effort, to be allowed to accompany a group of rangers into the new lands. 
With heavy hearts the parents agreed. They were simple farmers, but they could not refuse anything to their two precious flowers. 

== First steps in the New Lands ==
 
So the sisters came to the small island which served the Matis as a reception camp. In the tiny base of Borea they took their first steps out of the safe, known world and met their first Kipees. The sisters both tried to increase their knowledge, but Lyl devoted herself to magic and Lyn continued to indulge in martial arts. 
 
When the twins finally arrived in Yrkanis, they met their first Zorai there of all places. Lyn immediately started flirting with the tall, blue-skinned, well-built homin, Lyl played the game for a moment out of pure insecurity, but was soon distracted and overwhelmed by the beauty of the city of Yrkanis, and began to explore it. 
She met some friendly homins, mainly an Matis called Waya, who helped them both to get a foothold in the newly created society and whose guild they later joined.(Anbu Force) 
Together they learned a lot and soon their first big adventure was on the horizon. A joint exploration of the Verdant Hights and an attempt to find their way into the mysterious Burning Desert, which they had heard so much about. Together with a large number of other Homins they set out and after a very strenuous journey, for the not yet very powerful Homins at that time, they reached the capital of the Fyros, Pyr. 
Lyl was deeply impressed by the architectural masterpiece of the Fyros and later spent much time in the city's bathhouse and wandered through the alleys of the metropolis. 
The other countries were also explored and the Lake-Lands reminded both of their homeland. 
They made Lynda homesick and soon the young woman decided to return home. She did not want to leave her parents alone on the farm, she needed to help and protect them. Lyl had a bad conscience, but she had learned to love the new lands and decided to stay. She began to follow the path of a priestess of Jena and initially was very loyal to the goddess. 
The farewell from her sister was tearful and hard, but in the end it was the best. 
 
[[File:Lylanea by atysartisansunited.jpg|512px|frameless|center|Lylanea in Great Yrkanis green house, picture by Altamira]]

== The times, they are a'changing ==
 
Soon after, Lyls first direct impression of the hatred that religion could stir up in Homins presented itself. She and some guild friends attended the signing of the Treaty of the Four Lands. The ceremony was dignified and beautiful, when suddenly, within a few feet of them Still Wyler, the governor of the Tryker Federation, was shot in cold blood by an apostate Zorai. 
 
Some time after that Lylanea had her first encounter with a swarm of the Kitin. Of course she had fought against the disgusting insects together with her guild-siblings before. But the sudden swarming of the beasts surprised most Homins of the Four Lands. When the separate kingdoms made the first attempt to build defenses and bases in the outer regions of their dominions, the beasts seemed to be provoked. Within a few days, the cities were surrounded by huge numbers of the giant insects and the countryside was crawling with them. A siege which the experienced Homins could hold back only with great difficulty. She herself was not yet able to contribute much to the building of the bases or to the defense of Yrkanis, but she recognized at that time that the Homins could only survive against this immense threat if they worked together. 
 
During these troubled times, her first guild fell victim to an internal disagreement and was disbanded. She joined the newly minted "Illuminati Jenae" for some time. Where she initially found good company. But after a relatively short time she left this guild again. The compulsion to have to fight friends, in order to take possession of a newly established outpost for her guild was abhorrent to her. 
 
With her cousin Nuvad and his friend Thy, who had arrived at Yrkanis City a while earlier, she founded the "Argo Navis". A small community centered around the old Matis Mystic Vessus Vega, who guided them spiritually. Lylanea never quite trusted the old man, but many others followed him devotedly. Nuvad, Pippa, Xandra, Fyl A’Reon, Eta, Thy, Taniqa, Yachalis, Tei-Jeng, Druis, Yuuzuki and later also Salazar.
Who became the last guardian of the guild house and always held the guilds name in honor. 
 
Eventually, brutal marauders began to plague the lands and after some short skirmishes and mysterious incidents around a Fyra named Mezix and Alyia Ashenstorm, the first big attack of the clans on the new lands took place. Nuvad, Thy, Salazar and Lyl were surprised by them on a winter evening at the border of the Fleeting Gardens and could only escape with great difficulty. 
 
Lylanea, who by now had become somewhat more powerful, nevertheless stayed out of that conflict as best she could, merely reporting and writing down her observations. She rarely had to defend herself or others, and she admired the Zorai Sorenal, the great general, for his ability to effectively lead the amassed guilds to victory over the invaders. 
But he too was later disappointed by the growing belligerence of the guilds and left the New Lands embittered. 
Lylanea tried to bring a traitorous Matis to justice, who collaborated with the marauders, but failed in her attempt. 
The expansion of the outpost conflicts into true wars of faith and later fierce battles for resources to build the coveted temples. The resulting obligation to fight against Homins who had become dear to her, could not be reconciled with Lyl's conscience and so her journey with the Argo Navis came to an end. 
She decided to go her own way. At that time she also got to know the Tryker Chanchey Breggan, who became a close friend. 
 

== Walking Alone ==
 
The strict, clerical path of Jenas faithful had proven to be too narrow and warlike for her. Her exuberant creativity was limited and her musical talents fell asleep. 
From then on she called herself "Anima Jenae", the voice of Jena, to sing praise songs to the goddess and to provide entertainment to the Homins. 
For a long time she managed to stay out of the conflicts of religions and peoples and roamed the Four Lands, singing and making music here and there at weddings or other occasions. In the meantime she trained her other skills from time to time, but they were never really important to her. 
She fought in the defense of Pyr against a swarm of Kitin that broke through the bark of the burning desert and faced her first swarm leaders. Thanks to the courage and steadfastness of the Homins, who fought the beasts together, victory was again won in those days. 
 
Some time later, a new, young Kitin swarm appeared in the 4 Lands, which, according to scholars, had split off from an old swarm somewhere in the vastness of Atys and was now looking for a new home. It would later settle down in the Almati Forest. 
In these days she was given the honor to fight personally against this swarm at the side of King Yrkanis. 
Back to back with the karan she looked death in the eye. They mutually preserved each other's lives and his majesty praised her after the fight, which was highly unexpected. Together with some envoys of the Karavan and many other Homins she explored the new nest and here Lyl met Rangers again, for the first time after her stay in the refugee camp of the Matis. The unrestrained will of these Homins to protect the people of Atys from the Kitin and themselves, making no distinction between Homins, no matter what race or religion they belonged to, impressed her deeply. 
 
Lyl often went alone or with friends to the Almati Forest, to talk to the rangers and explore the Kitin Nest. She strangely enjoyed risking her life to learn more about the beasts. She was quite content. 
 
As she was sitting in Fairhaven's first bar one beautiful summer day, working on a new song, a messenger from the Matis Royal Court approached her and delivered a message that would turn her life upside down. 
Lylanea had been summoned to Her Majesty's court. Karae Lea Lenardi, Queen of the Matis, raised the humble Bard to nobility. Her reputation as a Songsmith had reached the ears of the Matis Royal Court as a few weeks prior she had been allowed to enrich a royal ball with her arts. 
The Karae was very fond of her music and entrusted Lylanea with preserving the culture of the Matis ordering her to work closely with the Royal Academy. 
At first, she could hardly believe her luck and was very enthusiastic about her work. She composed hymns of praise to the warriors of the new lands, but critical, thoughtful lyrics too flowed from her pen. She wrote prayers to Jena, to whom she was still devoted, at least as Matis. Together with Salazar Caradini, her old friend from Argo Navi's days, she participated in council meetings and tried to repair the fragile relations between the peoples by diplomatic means. 
But soon she realized that this was as much an unsolvable task as capturing all the Yubos of Matia. Many other nobles and guild diplomats from other lands had only had the advantage of their respective kingdom in mind, which was equal to that of their guilds. Those guilds that called Matia their home, mostly just tried to increase their own influence on outposts and thus wealth. They stirred up war and discord between the peoples. The pact that Still Wyler had paid for with his blood was forgotten. 
Karavan and Kami were in no way superior to the Homins and committed themselves to regard each other in either indifference or clear tirades of hatred. She was especially shocked by the words of a Zorai sage, who spoke with hatred against the Karavan, the Matis and Tryker and even found few good hairs on the Fyros. Karan Yrkanis and Karae Lea of the Matis tried to get the situation under control. On their orders Lylanea, together with some other Homins, managed to smuggle the young prince Stevano secretly through the primeval roots to Pyr. Already on the way there the young prince proved to be extremely arrogant. His un-diplomatic remarks to His Highness, Emperor Dexton eventually led the countries to the brink of open warfare. 
 
Disillusioned and full of anger, Lylanea finally withdrew from the new lands. She sold and gave away all her belongings and finally joined the Rangers who were searching for more refugees on the bark. During this time she fell in love with the ranger Vencci Chiviadi and from this love arose their daughter, Tauri. 
 
A few months ago she returned to see how things are going in the countries she still loves. 
 

== The Present ==
 
[[image:The_Kiss002.jpg|thumb|right|Wixarika and Lylanea|Lylanea and Wixarika, picture by Lylanea/Acridiel]]

In the time that she had been away a lot had happened. 

 
Lyl learned that King Yrkanis had disappeared and Queen Lea had died of a broken heart some time after that. The loss of Karae Lea hurt Lylanea very much. She wrote a dirge for her beloved Queen. 
Now former Prince Stevano, together with his wife Filia Tamiela, rules over the Matis people, as Karan Stevano and Karin Tamiela. 
 
Emperor Dexton of Fyros fell victim to poisoning and his only son Lycos now rules the desert. Due to a cruel incident, the diplomatic relations between the Matis and Fyros are extremely tense. 
Lyl also came to know the some of the new members of the Matisan nobility, council and court and found that most of these Homins were as stubborn and short-sighted as their predecessors. 
 
However, she also came to know more pleasant Homins. 
The Bai Nhori Drakani, the guild "Black Dragon Guard", based in New Trykoth, became her good friends and supporters of her arts. 
After a bit of cajoling and persuading from her side, Chanchey offered her to join his guild, the "Free Soul", which she accepted with great joy. She has found more great friends there. Some old and some new. 
Recently she brought her daughter Tauri from Silan to Yrkanis and started to accompany her on her first forays into the new lands. 
 
Shortly afterwards, the lovely Fyra Wixarika of the Drakani confessed to Lylanea that she harbored deep feelings for her. At first Lyl was insecure and a bit scared, because she had been alone for so long. In addition she is quite a bit older than the Fyra. But the honest, enthusiastic, open and above all loving nature of ‘Rika finally opened her heart to the avances of the pretty and firece warrior. 
They are a couple now. Which surprises some Homins very much, which in turn doesn't bother both of them. 
Tauri accepts this, because her parents were never married anyway and her father is roaming the wilderness of Atys again to find refugees. 
Lylanea is happy, even though the new countries are still far away from a peaceful future. 
 
To be continued ... 
 

= Work in the geographical society =
[[An old archive/Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe|Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe]], a report of an expedition of Rangers following their discovery of [[An old archive|what seemed a map]] to them.
= Literature and art =
== Short poems ==
[[image:Bard small.jpg|thumb|right|Lylanea|Lylanea in her usual attire, picture by Lylanea/Acridiel]]
=== Matia ===
 
Matia is Matia 
Spring breathes in 
Summer is a warm, tender kiss 
Autumn breathes out 
Winter is a soft, cool hand 
touching a beloved face 
Matia is Matia 
 
=== New Trykoth ===
 
Without water, there is no life. 
Without freedom, there is no life. 
Aeden Aqueus - overflows with life. 
 
Trykers share everything. 
They share their power. 
They share their courage. 
They share your possessions. 
They share the winds power. 
They share their minds willingly. 
No two Homins share an opinion on them. 
But they'll give everything for you if you're their friend. 
 

===The Witherings===
 
Light is a source of life. 
And a symbol of hope. 
Zorai is full of light. 
Even at night, light is everywhere. 
We're all just lights. 
who confront the growing darkness of despair. 
All I wish for us, the homin races. 
is to be as strong as the lights of Zoari. 
So that even in the darkness. 
Our souls may shine. 
And nothing may darken our paths. 
That our lights may remain forever. 
To guide us through the deep night. 
Zorai is full of light. 
 

===The Burning Desert===
 
Burning hot sand - beneath my feet. 
Above my head - burning hot sun. 
Burning hot air - within my lungs. 
Within my veins - burning hot sap. 
Burning hot faith - within my heart. 
I am Fyros. 
 

===Atys' Lullaby===
''A song for children and grown homins alike''. 
Where there is darkness, there is always light. 
Night now gathers around the four countries. 
At first you cannot see your hand in front of your eyes. 
But soon Mother Atys shows her power. 
Can you see her lights? 
How bright they stand over the bark. 
How they shine, like sparks from embers. 
So do not be afraid and take courage. 
Do not be afraid of the dragon. 
You will awaken in the morning. 
And when you rub the sleep from your eyes 
Atys did give you a gift. 
No matter what you do during the day, 
Her light protected you, all night long. 
 

== Songs ==
 
===[[Lily of Matia]]===
A dirge for the late Karae Lea Lenardi.
 
===[[Flame Of The Desert]]===
A song for a special someone.
 
===[[Will you accompany me?]]===
A song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[I'm no good at writing love songs]]===
Another song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[As Night Falls]]===
A Song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Rangers March]]===
Another song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Have you seen us fight]]===
A song for all Homins.
 
===[[An Ode To Your Feet]]===
A funny Tryker song I learned a long time ago from a Tryker bard.
 
 
There is an [https://app.ryzom.com/app_forum/index.php?page=topic/view/13748/1| external archive with poetry].

==Tales of War:==
These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. 
So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining. 

====[[The Prime Roots War]]====
Memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Surface War]]====
Other memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Hunt For A Ghost]]====
My experience hunting a dangerous criminal in Fyros.

====[[The short war for the Hidden Source]]====
A Record of one of the first battles against the Marauders, in New Matia.

====[[The Fall Of Old Matia]]====
A survivors tale of the last night of the old Forest-Kingom.

== Tales of the Lands==
Old stories of my travels as a young homin trougout the New Lands and some more recent works. 

====[[A Tale of the Desert]]====
A life changing encounter with one of the Fyros' Bandit gangs, a long time ago.

====[[The Sentinels Of Pyr]]====
A tale of true bravery, I once discovered in the archives of Pyr.

====[[What the light says]]====
A poem said and played during the [[Tales of Atysmas 2611 vigil]].

====[[Wayfarers' Guide to Matia]]====
A guide for travellers in the the Matis Kigdom.

====[[The Lost Alchemist]]====
A report of the search for a Fyros alchemist lost in Aeden Aqueous.

====[[Hush - Part 1]]====
A true story from long ago. A memorable trip to the prime roots with friends.

====[[Hush - Part 2]]====
The adventure continues.

= External resources =

* [https://www.ryzomarmory.com/char/Lylanea/profile Profile on Ryzom Armory]

 
 
<noinclude>[[Category:Homins]][[Category:Player Characters]] [[Category:Player Characters Rangers]] [[Category:Biographies]]
{{clear}}</noinclude>

The Hunt For A Ghost

2022-09-26T22:40:58Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|EN =The Hunt For A Ghost
|FR =La chasse au fantôme
|DE =Die Jagd nach einem Geist
|H =1
|palette=primes
}}</noinclude>

[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<poem>The ravine through which we walked was wide and deep.
Its wooden floor was littered with dry moss and lichen. Almost everywhere there were small, irregular piles from which flowers and grasses sprouted. I tried not to step into them.
Chanchey, had examined the piles a little closer and found that it was excrement of animals, which offered sustenance to the plants. Which in turn provided food for the many herbivores that roamed the canyons. This in turn attracted a not inconsiderable number of predators.
The eternal cycle in life in all its squishy perfection.

From high above our little troop, from the Thesos plain, wood dust trickled down. Fierce gusts of wind hissed through the canyons, driving the particles before them like tiny hailstones in a storm.
The ground hissed and rumbled. Now and then small fountains of steam shot up, and here and there even a perpetual little flame burned on the bark of the floor, fed by the exhalations of the smoldering sap beneath.
Did I really want to know what kind of inferno was going on down there? What had once set the Sap veins on fire in this part of the New Lands?
The flaming forest not far from here, a little further to the west, had been hit the worst. Here the fire was so close to the surface that a tribe was founded just to watch the ground in case the embers should eat their way to the surface again. Like the fire of Coriolis, which raged for 2 months and devastated vast areas, even into the forests of the Matis. Long ago, in the ancient lands. But nature had adapted wonderfully to the circumstances, in the Flaming Forest grew trees, if you want to call these partly charred things shaped like fangs so, which knew how to use the burning Sap.
They channeled it into their tops and let it flare up there. In this way they kept herbivores away from their unripe fruit. Only in winter, when it became a little cooler in the desert, they closed these veins and all at once literally burst with large leaves and big grapes on thick vines that sprouted from their trunks. An excellent wine was pressed from them. Aah, how I longed for a good sip in this heat …
[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
I pushed my thoughts away from the mysteries of the desert and refreshments to the task that lay ahead of us. Some of the us had heavily armed themselves, but some magi had also come along on this expedition.
We were to track down a wanted assassin in the deep canyons and bring her before the justice of the Empire. 
The Fyros, who practically grew up in this area and soaked up the sand with their mother's milk, as some mockingly claimed, did not mind the rough air. They perhaps blinked a little more often.
But for the few Trykers and Matis who had joined the search for the criminal Mezix, the heat quickly brought sweat to their foreheads. They cursed the wood dust that always found a way into even the best armor and scratched and chafed terribly.
The representative of the Imperial Protection Guild of the Burning Faces, whose name I had not learned, set a good pace and the homins not used to the desert had to strain to keep up with the Fyros.

But, many were interested in bringing the mysterious Fyra named Mezix to justice.
Just a few days before, her cruel goings-on had claimed a new victim. A worker who, together with a colleague, was supposed to be doing repair work on the Imperial Road in the Frahar Towers. Both fell under the spell of the beautiful Fyra, but when her beasts of war fell upon his colleague, he regained his senses and ran for his life. Completely distraught and exhausted from the long march through the desert, he made it to the village of the waterbreakers, who took care of him and finally brought him back to Pyr. There he tried to muster his courage, to tell his colleague's family of this tragedy, in the tavern. Just as some friends and I were also there, discussing the earlier events.

First, of course, he had reported to the city guards and they informed the Burning Faces, the guild officially charged with the internal security of the Empire.
So now a handful of members of this guild and as many volunteers were jogging through the deep canyons that almost divided the Burning Desert in half from east to west, looking for the criminal's camp. A few days earlier, in an obviously abandoned camp, a message had been found that spoke of the "Dragon Maw Gorge". It had been signed: ”A. Z.”. At first, no one knew who A. Z. could be.
I couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong with it, though.
It was just too - convenient - for it to be found in this otherwise empty camp. A map with a clear message to Mezix and a clear designation of this place? I suspected a trap.

However, hardly any of my companions wanted to hear about it. Especially the Fyros were sure that they would have an easy time with a few wild Gingos and their rebellious mistress.

Far from it, as it turned out later.
When our small troop reached the Dragon Maw Gorge and the wooden walls moved closer and closer together, we soon noticed that something was out of the ordinary here. 
No animals far and wide.
Not even a Cuttler was lying in wait in a bush.
And soon we saw the reason.
A veritable horde of nearly shoulder-high, brown desert Gingos cavorted in the narrow twists and turns of the gorge. Their hoarse, wheezing barks swelled into a veritable storm as the voice of a Fyra rang out from the depths of the gorge.
:''"Attack!"

Jena, how fast these beasts were!
And how tough!
The sword strokes of the Homins seemed to make the trained animals only wilder and with every drop of blood that dripped on the barren ground, their murderousness increased. Within a short time, the Magi were overrun and only the heavily armed warriors withstood the onslaught for a short time longer. They too soon fell under the vicious fangs of the shaggy beasts. The last thing I saw before blackness and pain enveloped me was a group of the great predators, returning like tame yubos to their mistress. Who stepped out of the shadows of the gorge, smiling maliciously.

Light flooded my soul and my battered body. Glowing, healing, runic bands enveloped my bleeding limbs and lifted me from the ground.
Someone must have escaped the attack and hid until the victorious criminal called her animals back.
With a booming skull and trembling hands, I pulled out my magic enhancers and put them on. The precise movements of the spell were not easy to perform in heavy armor, but it would just have to do! Within a short time, all members of the search party were back on their feet and it was decided to make another attempt to apprehend the wanted person.
This time we would be prepared for their deceit.

Slowly I crept behind some Fyros into the narrow gorge.
There was a smaller pack of the desert predators there.
One of the Fyros warriors jumped forward and waved his arms violently. His performance was a bit exaggerated, but did not miss its effect.
The animals immediately ran towards him.
Right into our waiting swords.
The noise of the battle attracted more of the animals, but the Magi covered the back of the group and kept the fighters alive with their healing magic.
So we outwitted a good two dozen of the horrible creatures.
Then, however, the tide almost turned again. With wild battle-cries, some warriors in red and yellow armor came rushing out of the gorge and into our back. The swordsmen split up and rushed back to their mages, who struggled to fend off the attackers and heal their allies at the same time.
I stayed in front and drove the dogs into the dust. Now the female voice echoed through the ravine again:
:''"Put them down!"
A perfectly planned trap.
[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
But, Mezix had not counted on the fighting prowess and good cooperation of her hunters. Although from different countries and guilds, many of them had already fought side by side against far worse opponents and passed. Those who could hold their own against Kitin, could also cope with such a wild bunch.
And indeed, the attacking homins were quickly defeated and we pushed further into the narrow passages of the canyon. After a few twists and turns, in which attacking Gingos met their deaths again and again, we spotted a fortified camp.

Something crashed forcefully into the wood of the canyon wall just above my head, and a rain of splinters and dust fell on me. Instinctively, I jerked back into the shelter of the wall.
"They have shooters!" roared a deep voice, just as a Magi collapsed next to him, hit.
And indeed, behind some stacked crates, I could make out figures pointing bow-rifles and pistols at us.
Surprised, I realized that they were all women, Fyra, like Mezix.
I wonder if that meant anything.
But, enough thoughts, now it was time to fight.
The ground was uneven and the walls of the canyon were full of cracks and minor overhangs, but nothing really provided cover. We pressed our bodies against the wall beyond the bend toward the main canyon. Again and again, projectiles slammed into the ground or whizzed just past our cover. Finally, we heard the voice again, which probably belonged to Mezix:
"Give up! You can't get to me anyway!"

The other homins looked at each other, and as if by some indiscernible understanding, they knew what to do. One by one, the heavily armored warriors rushed around the curve of the ravine and ran toward the camp, shouting mightily.
I ran after them.
Glowing projectiles of hardwood bounced off their armor, leaving dents and fractures, or made their way into the flesh below. But the attackers kept running!
Behind us, the magi stepped into the line of fire, now obstructed by the warriors' armor, and began their healing and wounding dances. Bubbling balls of energy raced in high arcs over the heads of the warriors and burst in showers of fire, poison and acid in the middle of the camp, or on the stacked crates
The shooters ducked as best they could.
A shimmering blue blast wave thundered just past me and tore apart a stack of crates. The Fyra, crouching behind it, was hurled through the air and crashed against the hard wall of the gorge. There she collapsed and lay still.

"Strange that they don't have healers," it flashed through my mind, but I had already reached the barricade and rushed through the hole that had just been blown. In front of me, a young Fyra stepped out of cover and pointed her smoking weapon at me. With one well-aimed blow, I struck her down. Briefly, I felt regret and said a prayer to Jena in my mind, but then the next bullet crashed into my armor. I turned around just as a sword pierced the shooter's chest from behind. The broad figure of Gladeusdeus, a member of the ruling council of the Fyros "Akenak" and quite an esteemed acquaintance, pushed forward, pushed the corpse aside and nodded curtly at me. I nodded back and both of us threw ourselves back into the fight.
After a few minutes the fight was over. Everyone was exhausted and yet we had not reached our goal.
Mezix stepped out from under the cover of a tent and a male Fyros in dirty but formerly very fine clothing appeared beside her.

"Senator Zelion?!" exclaimed some of those present. Hardly anyone who had seen the strange message had interpreted A.Z. as "Aeracus Zelion ''. Nor had anyone reckoned with the presence of this Fyros here. He had been "kidnapped" only a few weeks ago, in the middle of his trial for treason against the empire and collaboration with the marauders. However, not by the Fyra who stood before them. But by Akilia Ash Storm, the daughter of Melkiar.
Melkiar, "The Black Varinx", leader of the Marauders and one of the worst threats to the New Lands, after the Kitin. So, there was a connection between them and Mezix after all. As some homins had already suspected.

Only, what sense did it make to keep this fugitive here, wasn't she bait enough herself? After all her terrible deeds.
A surprised, "Mezix! What are all these Fyros doing here?!" escaped the clearly frightened ex-Senator as he stepped out of the shadows of the tent and found himself surrounded by members of the Burning Faces.
But the Fyra, visibly angered, ordered him to shut up. Then she turned to the representatives of the empire.

While I was still thinking and turned to the open camp to cover the back of the group, Mezix and the official were drowning in mutual insults and arrogant remarks. As it seemed to be the way of the Fyros. Then, all at once, a surprised murmur went through the crowd behind me, and when I turned around, Mezix was pressing her lips tightly on Gladeusdeus'. The much smaller Fyra held him tight and pressed her body against his.
The burly Fyros’ facial expression revealed that he was just as surprised by this behavior as all the bystanders. Even the ex-senator stammered a "W...wha... what is this?" and stared at the scene completely perplexed.
For a moment, everyone was paralyzed. But that moment was enough for the skilled warrior. She grabbed the reins of a Mektoub standing nearby and swung herself into the saddle. Then she yanked the senator up behind her by the collar, across the back of the mount and gave the animal the spurs. Upset, the heavy mount thundered through the group of homins and out into the canyon.
Immediately, many of them gave chase on foot, but in vain. The beast was too fast, even loaded with two homins, and disappeared into the maze of ravines. While the main part of the troop ran to the exit of the ravine, I stayed behind and once again examined the camp and the bodies of the dead homins.
Strangely, the soldiers who had attacked us all wore red armor, with yellow ornaments. Almost like those of the city guards of Pyr. However, with an emblem on it that I did not recognize.
A strange glyph, which I did not know how to interpret. The hominas who had defended the camp itself, however, wore sand-colored armor, without any markings. Also, they all had nothing with them except some rations. In the boxes of the camp were food supplies for several months and the tents were only sparsely furnished.
This seemed to be just some sort of transitional camp. Where were these Fyros going and who exactly were they?
Marauders? Or a new group split off from them?
I had also noticed that the Fyra named Mezix bore a striking resemblance to Akilia Ashenstorm. I had already met her.
Were they related? Siblings, perhaps?
Questions upon questions. And only one was answered the next day after I returned to Yrkanis from Pyr.
Council member Zeron sent me a runner boy who breathlessly handed over a message. From which I gleaned that news had come from the desert empire.

The Akenak had ordered its troops to march into the region of the Hidden Source. However, this was not an attack on the sovereignty of the Matisian kingdom, but only a measure to finally get hold of the Fyra named Mezix, who had been sighted in this long-disputed area of the "Matis Desert", as it was also called. It was hoped that an even larger contingent of troops would be able to deal with her. I did not know how to react to this. Politics had always been foreign to me, as a bard I had only ever declared my faith in my people and Jena by song and poetry. Now I was supposed to help decide how to react to an invasion of the Empire's troops into Matisian territory.
"Jena, guide me across this unknown path." I prayed for the help of the goddess and sent the messenger boy back to Lord Zeron with words of thanks and a request for some time to think it over.</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

An Ode To Your Feet

2022-09-26T22:24:45Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Ein Hoch auf die Füße|DEs =4
|ES =
|FR =Une ode à vos pieds|FRs=4
|RU =
|H =
|palette=primes
}}</noinclude>

By Timil McInde, Bard of Fairhaven (Original by Tim Linde) 
Recorded by Lylanea Vicciona, Bard Of The Four Lands 
OOC: With /em commands for your use :)

{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<center><poem>
/em plays a happy, swinging tune and sings

I saw a young maiden standing one day
on Fairhavens beach and my thoughts went astray.
As we lay in the sand, time flew by us
In the evening her father found us and cussed.

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick on your feet.
Sometimes life is not fair.
If your sword cannot save you,
Well friend let me tell you,
You’d give anything for a good pair.

Out into the world I went all alone,
met some bandits, they did seem quite strong.
"I’m stronger than you!" I laughed in their face.
They did not believe me, so I had to race.

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In the jungles, I met a tall blue man.
His sword seemed quite sharp, but I laughed at him.
He bent down to grab me - us Trykers are small,
I rammed my helmet right to his *cough*

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In the deep woods, I met a Matis.
Beautiful, wild and promising bliss.
That night at her home, the dress slid to the floor -
“she” was a man and me out the door.

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In Fyros I stopped at an tavern fine
I ate two whole yubos, drank three gallons wine.
The innkeep then asked me to pay the full fee
I didn't have money, so I had to flee.

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

But the City Watch found me and took me to court
The judge said to me,: "I have no doubt!
You are in for imprisonment!
/shout: Guards, seize him! -
Now, did anyone see where he went?"

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

Almost a year later I returned to my town,
A beautiful girl greeted me with a frown.
I said : “Pretty lady, what’s going on?!”
She held up a bundle: "This is your son."

Refrain (2 times):
Oooohhh, sometimes it's good to be quick ...

/em spoken as the melody trickles out …

So let me tell you, hear what I say.
If misfortune follows you ever which way.
Then run really fast, hard as it may be
for only he who’s alive today
can be a hero tomorrow.
/em winks: You see?

</poem>
</center>
}}

An Ode To Your Feet

2022-09-26T22:24:26Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Ein Hoch auf die Füße|DEs =4
|ES =
|FR =Une ode à vos pieds|FRs=4
|RU =
|H =
|palette=primes
}}</noinclude>

By Timil McInde, Bard of Fairhaven (Original be Tim Linde) 
Recorded by Lylanea Vicciona, Bard Of The Four Lands 
OOC: With /em commands for your use :)

{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<center><poem>
/em plays a happy, swinging tune and sings

I saw a young maiden standing one day
on Fairhavens beach and my thoughts went astray.
As we lay in the sand, time flew by us
In the evening her father found us and cussed.

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick on your feet.
Sometimes life is not fair.
If your sword cannot save you,
Well friend let me tell you,
You’d give anything for a good pair.

Out into the world I went all alone,
met some bandits, they did seem quite strong.
"I’m stronger than you!" I laughed in their face.
They did not believe me, so I had to race.

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In the jungles, I met a tall blue man.
His sword seemed quite sharp, but I laughed at him.
He bent down to grab me - us Trykers are small,
I rammed my helmet right to his *cough*

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In the deep woods, I met a Matis.
Beautiful, wild and promising bliss.
That night at her home, the dress slid to the floor -
“she” was a man and me out the door.

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In Fyros I stopped at an tavern fine
I ate two whole yubos, drank three gallons wine.
The innkeep then asked me to pay the full fee
I didn't have money, so I had to flee.

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

But the City Watch found me and took me to court
The judge said to me,: "I have no doubt!
You are in for imprisonment!
/shout: Guards, seize him! -
Now, did anyone see where he went?"

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

Almost a year later I returned to my town,
A beautiful girl greeted me with a frown.
I said : “Pretty lady, what’s going on?!”
She held up a bundle: "This is your son."

Refrain (2 times):
Oooohhh, sometimes it's good to be quick ...

/em spoken as the melody trickles out …

So let me tell you, hear what I say.
If misfortune follows you ever which way.
Then run really fast, hard as it may be
for only he who’s alive today
can be a hero tomorrow.
/em winks: You see?

</poem>
</center>
}}

An Ode To Your Feet

2022-09-26T22:15:24Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Ein Hoch auf die Füße|DEs =4
|ES =
|FR =Une ode à vos pieds|FRs=4
|RU =
|H =
|palette=primes
}}</noinclude>

By Timil McInde, Bard of Fairhaven 
Recorded by Lylanea Vicciona, Bard Of The Four Lands 
OOC: With /em commands for your use :)

{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<center><poem>
/em plays a happy, swinging tune and sings

I saw a young maiden standing one day
on Fairhavens beach and my thoughts went astray.
As we lay in the sand, time flew by us
In the evening her father found us and cussed.

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick on your feet.
Sometimes life is not fair.
If your sword cannot save you,
Well friend let me tell you,
You’d give anything for a good pair.

Out into the world I went all alone,
met some bandits, they did seem quite strong.
"I’m stronger than you!" I laughed in their face.
They did not believe me, so I had to race.

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In the jungles, I met a tall blue man.
His sword seemed quite sharp, but I laughed at him.
He bent down to grab me - us Trykers are small,
I rammed my helmet right to his *cough*

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In the deep woods, I met a Matis.
Beautiful, wild and promising bliss.
That night at her home, the dress slid to the floor -
“she” was a man and me out the door.

Refrain:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

In Fyros I stopped at an tavern fine
I ate two whole yubos, drank three gallons wine.
The innkeep then asked me to pay the full fee
I didn't have money, so I had to flee.

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

But the City Watch found me and took me to court
The judge said to me,: "I have no doubt!
You are in for imprisonment!
/shout: Guards, seize him! -
Now, did anyone see where he went?"

Chorus:
Sometimes it's good to be quick ...

Almost a year later I returned to my town,
A beautiful girl greeted me with a frown.
I said : “Pretty lady, what’s going on?!”
She held up a bundle: "This is your son."

Refrain (2 times):
Oooohhh, sometimes it's good to be quick ...

/em spoken as the melody trickles out …

So let me tell you, hear what I say.
If misfortune follows you ever which way.
Then run really fast, hard as it may be
for only he who’s alive today
can be a hero tomorrow.
/em winks: You see?

</poem>
</center>
}}

User:Lylanea Vicciona

2022-09-26T22:14:33Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Tabs
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|bg_frame=#{{ColorAtys|type=bg|group=matis}}
|round=5em
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|Tab-1={{3DText|text='''Profile'''}}
|URL-1=User:Lylanea Vicciona
|bg_Tab-1=#{{ColorAtys|type=bg|group=matis}}
|Pic-1=The Free Soul guild-icon.png

|Tab-2={{3DText|text='''OOC information'''}}
|URL-2=User:Lylanea Vicciona/OOC
|bg_Tab-2=#{{ColorAtys|type=light|group=OOC}}
|Pic-2=Dummy.png
}}{{Trad
|DE=User:Lylanea Vicciona 
|EN=User:Lylanea Vicciona 
|ES=User:Lylanea Vicciona 
|FR=User:Lylanea Vicciona 
|RU=User:Lylanea Vicciona 
|palette=ranger 
|H=1
}}{{clear}}</noinclude>{{Homin
|first=Lylanea
|name=Vicciona
|lucio=Lylanea_avatar.jpg
|meaning=
|title=Bard of the Four Lands
|race=[[Portal:Matis|Matis]]
|sex=Female
|nation=None
|organization=Rangers
|worship=None
|faction=[[Rangers]]
|guild= [[Guild:The Free Soul|The Free Soul]]
|rank=High Officer
|birth= Unknown
|death=Alive
|mother= Lydina
|father= Niccio
|character=Homina
}}
<noinclude>{{#babel:de|en-3|es-0|fr-0|ru-0}}</noinclude>
 
=Biography=
This is the story of Lylanea Vicciona. Humble servant to all Homins, Bard of the Four Lands, Warrior Poet and blabbermouth extraordinaire.
 
== Childhood ==
Lylanea was born with her twin sister Lynda on an island off the coast of the Old Kingdom. Her parents and other refugees had sought shelter there as the Kitin destroyed the old lands. They were not among those who were sent to the prime roots by the mystical rainbow-bridges. But maybe it was better that way. The island was peaceful and was never bothered by the Kitin. 
Early on, Lyl, as she was called, showed a talent for music and singing. Her sister was more concerned with frolicking and wrestling with boys. 
Later, it was Lyn who hung out with other young folks in town, while Lyl buried her nose in books. 
When the two of them had grown up to be young women, they asked their parents, mainly on Lynda's effort, to be allowed to accompany a group of rangers into the new lands. 
With heavy hearts the parents agreed. They were simple farmers, but they could not refuse anything to their two precious flowers. 

== First steps in the New Lands ==
 
So the sisters came to the small island which served the Matis as a reception camp. In the tiny base of Borea they took their first steps out of the safe, known world and met their first Kipees. The sisters both tried to increase their knowledge, but Lyl devoted herself to magic and Lyn continued to indulge in martial arts. 
 
When the twins finally arrived in Yrkanis, they met their first Zorai there of all places. Lyn immediately started flirting with the tall, blue-skinned, well-built homin, Lyl played the game for a moment out of pure insecurity, but was soon distracted and overwhelmed by the beauty of the city of Yrkanis, and began to explore it. 
She met some friendly homins, mainly an Matis called Waya, who helped them both to get a foothold in the newly created society and whose guild they later joined.(Anbu Force) 
Together they learned a lot and soon their first big adventure was on the horizon. A joint exploration of the Verdant Hights and an attempt to find their way into the mysterious Burning Desert, which they had heard so much about. Together with a large number of other Homins they set out and after a very strenuous journey, for the not yet very powerful Homins at that time, they reached the capital of the Fyros, Pyr. 
Lyl was deeply impressed by the architectural masterpiece of the Fyros and later spent much time in the city's bathhouse and wandered through the alleys of the metropolis. 
The other countries were also explored and the Lake-Lands reminded both of their homeland. 
They made Lynda homesick and soon the young woman decided to return home. She did not want to leave her parents alone on the farm, she needed to help and protect them. Lyl had a bad conscience, but she had learned to love the new lands and decided to stay. She began to follow the path of a priestess of Jena and initially was very loyal to the goddess. 
The farewell from her sister was tearful and hard, but in the end it was the best. 
 
[[File:Lylanea by atysartisansunited.jpg|512px|frameless|center|Lylanea in Great Yrkanis green house, picture by Altamira]]

== The times, they are a'changing ==
 
Soon after, Lyls first direct impression of the hatred that religion could stir up in Homins presented itself. She and some guild friends attended the signing of the Treaty of the Four Lands. The ceremony was dignified and beautiful, when suddenly, within a few feet of them Still Wyler, the governor of the Tryker Federation, was shot in cold blood by an apostate Zorai. 
 
Some time after that Lylanea had her first encounter with a swarm of the Kitin. Of course she had fought against the disgusting insects together with her guild-siblings before. But the sudden swarming of the beasts surprised most Homins of the Four Lands. When the separate kingdoms made the first attempt to build defenses and bases in the outer regions of their dominions, the beasts seemed to be provoked. Within a few days, the cities were surrounded by huge numbers of the giant insects and the countryside was crawling with them. A siege which the experienced Homins could hold back only with great difficulty. She herself was not yet able to contribute much to the building of the bases or to the defense of Yrkanis, but she recognized at that time that the Homins could only survive against this immense threat if they worked together. 
 
During these troubled times, her first guild fell victim to an internal disagreement and was disbanded. She joined the newly minted "Illuminati Jenae" for some time. Where she initially found good company. But after a relatively short time she left this guild again. The compulsion to have to fight friends, in order to take possession of a newly established outpost for her guild was abhorrent to her. 
 
With her cousin Nuvad and his friend Thy, who had arrived at Yrkanis City a while earlier, she founded the "Argo Navis". A small community centered around the old Matis Mystic Vessus Vega, who guided them spiritually. Lylanea never quite trusted the old man, but many others followed him devotedly. Nuvad, Pippa, Xandra, Fyl A’Reon, Eta, Thy, Taniqa, Yachalis, Tei-Jeng, Druis, Yuuzuki and later also Salazar.
Who became the last guardian of the guild house and always held the guilds name in honor. 
 
Eventually, brutal marauders began to plague the lands and after some short skirmishes and mysterious incidents around a Fyra named Mezix and Alyia Ashenstorm, the first big attack of the clans on the new lands took place. Nuvad, Thy, Salazar and Lyl were surprised by them on a winter evening at the border of the Fleeting Gardens and could only escape with great difficulty. 
 
Lylanea, who by now had become somewhat more powerful, nevertheless stayed out of that conflict as best she could, merely reporting and writing down her observations. She rarely had to defend herself or others, and she admired the Zorai Sorenal, the great general, for his ability to effectively lead the amassed guilds to victory over the invaders. 
But he too was later disappointed by the growing belligerence of the guilds and left the New Lands embittered. 
Lylanea tried to bring a traitorous Matis to justice, who collaborated with the marauders, but failed in her attempt. 
The expansion of the outpost conflicts into true wars of faith and later fierce battles for resources to build the coveted temples. The resulting obligation to fight against Homins who had become dear to her, could not be reconciled with Lyl's conscience and so her journey with the Argo Navis came to an end. 
She decided to go her own way. At that time she also got to know the Tryker Chanchey Breggan, who became a close friend. 
 

== Walking Alone ==
 
The strict, clerical path of Jenas faithful had proven to be too narrow and warlike for her. Her exuberant creativity was limited and her musical talents fell asleep. 
From then on she called herself "Anima Jenae", the voice of Jena, to sing praise songs to the goddess and to provide entertainment to the Homins. 
For a long time she managed to stay out of the conflicts of religions and peoples and roamed the Four Lands, singing and making music here and there at weddings or other occasions. In the meantime she trained her other skills from time to time, but they were never really important to her. 
She fought in the defense of Pyr against a swarm of Kitin that broke through the bark of the burning desert and faced her first swarm leaders. Thanks to the courage and steadfastness of the Homins, who fought the beasts together, victory was again won in those days. 
 
Some time later, a new, young Kitin swarm appeared in the 4 Lands, which, according to scholars, had split off from an old swarm somewhere in the vastness of Atys and was now looking for a new home. It would later settle down in the Almati Forest. 
In these days she was given the honor to fight personally against this swarm at the side of King Yrkanis. 
Back to back with the karan she looked death in the eye. They mutually preserved each other's lives and his majesty praised her after the fight, which was highly unexpected. Together with some envoys of the Karavan and many other Homins she explored the new nest and here Lyl met Rangers again, for the first time after her stay in the refugee camp of the Matis. The unrestrained will of these Homins to protect the people of Atys from the Kitin and themselves, making no distinction between Homins, no matter what race or religion they belonged to, impressed her deeply. 
 
Lyl often went alone or with friends to the Almati Forest, to talk to the rangers and explore the Kitin Nest. She strangely enjoyed risking her life to learn more about the beasts. She was quite content. 
 
As she was sitting in Fairhaven's first bar one beautiful summer day, working on a new song, a messenger from the Matis Royal Court approached her and delivered a message that would turn her life upside down. 
Lylanea had been summoned to Her Majesty's court. Karae Lea Lenardi, Queen of the Matis, raised the humble Bard to nobility. Her reputation as a Songsmith had reached the ears of the Matis Royal Court as a few weeks prior she had been allowed to enrich a royal ball with her arts. 
The Karae was very fond of her music and entrusted Lylanea with preserving the culture of the Matis ordering her to work closely with the Royal Academy. 
At first, she could hardly believe her luck and was very enthusiastic about her work. She composed hymns of praise to the warriors of the new lands, but critical, thoughtful lyrics too flowed from her pen. She wrote prayers to Jena, to whom she was still devoted, at least as Matis. Together with Salazar Caradini, her old friend from Argo Navi's days, she participated in council meetings and tried to repair the fragile relations between the peoples by diplomatic means. 
But soon she realized that this was as much an unsolvable task as capturing all the Yubos of Matia. Many other nobles and guild diplomats from other lands had only had the advantage of their respective kingdom in mind, which was equal to that of their guilds. Those guilds that called Matia their home, mostly just tried to increase their own influence on outposts and thus wealth. They stirred up war and discord between the peoples. The pact that Still Wyler had paid for with his blood was forgotten. 
Karavan and Kami were in no way superior to the Homins and committed themselves to regard each other in either indifference or clear tirades of hatred. She was especially shocked by the words of a Zorai sage, who spoke with hatred against the Karavan, the Matis and Tryker and even found few good hairs on the Fyros. Karan Yrkanis and Karae Lea of the Matis tried to get the situation under control. On their orders Lylanea, together with some other Homins, managed to smuggle the young prince Stevano secretly through the primeval roots to Pyr. Already on the way there the young prince proved to be extremely arrogant. His un-diplomatic remarks to His Highness, Emperor Dexton eventually led the countries to the brink of open warfare. 
 
Disillusioned and full of anger, Lylanea finally withdrew from the new lands. She sold and gave away all her belongings and finally joined the Rangers who were searching for more refugees on the bark. During this time she fell in love with the ranger Vencci Chiviadi and from this love arose their daughter, Tauri. 
 
A few months ago she returned to see how things are going in the countries she still loves. 
 

== The Present ==
 
[[image:The_Kiss002.jpg|thumb|right|Wixarika and Lylanea|Lylanea and Wixarika, picture by Lylanea/Acridiel]]

In the time that she had been away a lot had happened. 

 
Lyl learned that King Yrkanis had disappeared and Queen Lea had died of a broken heart some time after that. The loss of Karae Lea hurt Lylanea very much. She wrote a dirge for her beloved Queen. 
Now former Prince Stevano, together with his wife Filia Tamiela, rules over the Matis people, as Karan Stevano and Karin Tamiela. 
 
Emperor Dexton of Fyros fell victim to poisoning and his only son Lycos now rules the desert. Due to a cruel incident, the diplomatic relations between the Matis and Fyros are extremely tense. 
Lyl also came to know the some of the new members of the Matisan nobility, council and court and found that most of these Homins were as stubborn and short-sighted as their predecessors. 
 
However, she also came to know more pleasant Homins. 
The Bai Nhori Drakani, the guild "Black Dragon Guard", based in New Trykoth, became her good friends and supporters of her arts. 
After a bit of cajoling and persuading from her side, Chanchey offered her to join his guild, the "Free Soul", which she accepted with great joy. She has found more great friends there. Some old and some new. 
Recently she brought her daughter Tauri from Silan to Yrkanis and started to accompany her on her first forays into the new lands. 
 
Shortly afterwards, the lovely Fyra Wixarika of the Drakani confessed to Lylanea that she harbored deep feelings for her. At first Lyl was insecure and a bit scared, because she had been alone for so long. In addition she is quite a bit older than the Fyra. But the honest, enthusiastic, open and above all loving nature of ‘Rika finally opened her heart to the avances of the pretty and firece warrior. 
They are a couple now. Which surprises some Homins very much, which in turn doesn't bother both of them. 
Tauri accepts this, because her parents were never married anyway and her father is roaming the wilderness of Atys again to find refugees. 
Lylanea is happy, even though the new countries are still far away from a peaceful future. 
 
To be continued ... 
 

= Work in the geographical society =
[[An old archive/Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe|Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe]], a report of an expedition of Rangers following their discovery of [[An old archive|what seemed a map]] to them.
= Literature and art =
== Short poems ==
=== Matia ===
 
Matia is Matia 
Spring breathes in 
Summer is a warm, tender kiss 
Autumn breathes out 
Winter is a soft, cool hand 
touching a beloved face 
Matia is Matia 
 
=== New Trykoth ===
 
Without water, there is no life. 
Without freedom, there is no life. 
Aeden Aqueus - overflows with life. 
 
Trykers share everything. 
They share their power. 
They share their courage. 
They share your possessions. 
They share the winds power. 
They share their minds willingly. 
No two Homins share an opinion on them. 
But they'll give everything for you if you're their friend. 
 

===The Witherings===
 
Light is a source of life. 
And a symbol of hope. 
Zorai is full of light. 
Even at night, light is everywhere. 
We're all just lights. 
who confront the growing darkness of despair. 
All I wish for us, the homin races. 
is to be as strong as the lights of Zoari. 
So that even in the darkness. 
Our souls may shine. 
And nothing may darken our paths. 
That our lights may remain forever. 
To guide us through the deep night. 
Zorai is full of light. 
 

===The Burning Desert===
 
Burning hot sand - beneath my feet. 
Above my head - burning hot sun. 
Burning hot air - within my lungs. 
Within my veins - burning hot sap. 
Burning hot faith - within my heart. 
I am Fyros. 
 

===Atys' Lullaby===
''A song for children and grown homins alike''. 
Where there is darkness, there is always light. 
Night now gathers around the four countries. 
At first you cannot see your hand in front of your eyes. 
But soon Mother Atys shows her power. 
Can you see her lights? 
How bright they stand over the bark. 
How they shine, like sparks from embers. 
So do not be afraid and take courage. 
Do not be afraid of the dragon. 
You will awaken in the morning. 
And when you rub the sleep from your eyes 
Atys did give you a gift. 
No matter what you do during the day, 
Her light protected you, all night long. 
 
== Songs ==
 
===[[Lily of Matia]]===
A dirge for the late Karae Lea Lenardi.
 
===[[Flame Of The Desert]]===
A song for a special someone.
 
===[[Will you accompany me?]]===
A song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[I'm no good at writing love songs]]===
Another song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[As Night Falls]]===
A Song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Rangers March]]===
Another song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Have you seen us fight]]===
A song for all Homins.
 
===[[An Ode To Your Feet]]===
A funny Tryker song I learned a long time ago from a Tryker bard.
 
 
There is an [https://app.ryzom.com/app_forum/index.php?page=topic/view/13748/1| external archive with poetry].

==Tales of War:==
These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. 
So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining. 

====[[The Prime Roots War]]====
Memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Surface War]]====
Other memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Hunt For A Ghost]]====
My experience hunting a dangerous criminal in Fyros.

====[[The short war for the Hidden Source]]====
A Record of one of the first battles against the Marauders, in New Matia.

====[[The Fall Of Old Matia]]====
A survivors tale of the last night of the old Forest-Kingom.

== Tales of the Lands==
Old stories of my travels as a young homin trougout the New Lands and some more recent works. 

====[[A Tale of the Desert]]====
A life changing encounter with one of the Fyros' Bandit gangs, a long time ago.

====[[The Sentinels Of Pyr]]====
A tale of true bravery, I once discovered in the archives of Pyr.

====[[What the light says]]====
A poem said and played during the [[Tales of Atysmas 2611 vigil]].

====[[Wayfarers' Guide to Matia]]====
A guide for travellers in the the Matis Kigdom.

====[[The Lost Alchemist]]====
A report of the search for a Fyros alchemist lost in Aeden Aqueous.

====[[Hush - Part 1]]====
A true story from long ago. A memorable trip to the prime roots with friends.

====[[Hush - Part 2]]====
The adventure continues.

= External resources =

* [https://www.ryzomarmory.com/char/Lylanea/profile Profile on Ryzom Armory]

 
 
<noinclude>[[Category:Homins]][[Category:Player Characters]] [[Category:Player Characters Rangers]] [[Category:Biographies]]
{{clear}}</noinclude>

User:Lylanea Vicciona

2022-09-26T22:12:55Z

Acridiel: /* Short poems and songs */

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=Biography=
This is the story of Lylanea Vicciona. Humble servant to all Homins, Bard of the Four Lands, Warrior Poet and blabbermouth extraordinaire.
 
== Childhood ==
Lylanea was born with her twin sister Lynda on an island off the coast of the Old Kingdom. Her parents and other refugees had sought shelter there as the Kitin destroyed the old lands. They were not among those who were sent to the prime roots by the mystical rainbow-bridges. But maybe it was better that way. The island was peaceful and was never bothered by the Kitin. 
Early on, Lyl, as she was called, showed a talent for music and singing. Her sister was more concerned with frolicking and wrestling with boys. 
Later, it was Lyn who hung out with other young folks in town, while Lyl buried her nose in books. 
When the two of them had grown up to be young women, they asked their parents, mainly on Lynda's effort, to be allowed to accompany a group of rangers into the new lands. 
With heavy hearts the parents agreed. They were simple farmers, but they could not refuse anything to their two precious flowers. 

== First steps in the New Lands ==
 
So the sisters came to the small island which served the Matis as a reception camp. In the tiny base of Borea they took their first steps out of the safe, known world and met their first Kipees. The sisters both tried to increase their knowledge, but Lyl devoted herself to magic and Lyn continued to indulge in martial arts. 
 
When the twins finally arrived in Yrkanis, they met their first Zorai there of all places. Lyn immediately started flirting with the tall, blue-skinned, well-built homin, Lyl played the game for a moment out of pure insecurity, but was soon distracted and overwhelmed by the beauty of the city of Yrkanis, and began to explore it. 
She met some friendly homins, mainly an Matis called Waya, who helped them both to get a foothold in the newly created society and whose guild they later joined.(Anbu Force) 
Together they learned a lot and soon their first big adventure was on the horizon. A joint exploration of the Verdant Hights and an attempt to find their way into the mysterious Burning Desert, which they had heard so much about. Together with a large number of other Homins they set out and after a very strenuous journey, for the not yet very powerful Homins at that time, they reached the capital of the Fyros, Pyr. 
Lyl was deeply impressed by the architectural masterpiece of the Fyros and later spent much time in the city's bathhouse and wandered through the alleys of the metropolis. 
The other countries were also explored and the Lake-Lands reminded both of their homeland. 
They made Lynda homesick and soon the young woman decided to return home. She did not want to leave her parents alone on the farm, she needed to help and protect them. Lyl had a bad conscience, but she had learned to love the new lands and decided to stay. She began to follow the path of a priestess of Jena and initially was very loyal to the goddess. 
The farewell from her sister was tearful and hard, but in the end it was the best. 
 
[[File:Lylanea by atysartisansunited.jpg|512px|frameless|center|Lylanea in Great Yrkanis green house, picture by Altamira]]

== The times, they are a'changing ==
 
Soon after, Lyls first direct impression of the hatred that religion could stir up in Homins presented itself. She and some guild friends attended the signing of the Treaty of the Four Lands. The ceremony was dignified and beautiful, when suddenly, within a few feet of them Still Wyler, the governor of the Tryker Federation, was shot in cold blood by an apostate Zorai. 
 
Some time after that Lylanea had her first encounter with a swarm of the Kitin. Of course she had fought against the disgusting insects together with her guild-siblings before. But the sudden swarming of the beasts surprised most Homins of the Four Lands. When the separate kingdoms made the first attempt to build defenses and bases in the outer regions of their dominions, the beasts seemed to be provoked. Within a few days, the cities were surrounded by huge numbers of the giant insects and the countryside was crawling with them. A siege which the experienced Homins could hold back only with great difficulty. She herself was not yet able to contribute much to the building of the bases or to the defense of Yrkanis, but she recognized at that time that the Homins could only survive against this immense threat if they worked together. 
 
During these troubled times, her first guild fell victim to an internal disagreement and was disbanded. She joined the newly minted "Illuminati Jenae" for some time. Where she initially found good company. But after a relatively short time she left this guild again. The compulsion to have to fight friends, in order to take possession of a newly established outpost for her guild was abhorrent to her. 
 
With her cousin Nuvad and his friend Thy, who had arrived at Yrkanis City a while earlier, she founded the "Argo Navis". A small community centered around the old Matis Mystic Vessus Vega, who guided them spiritually. Lylanea never quite trusted the old man, but many others followed him devotedly. Nuvad, Pippa, Xandra, Fyl A’Reon, Eta, Thy, Taniqa, Yachalis, Tei-Jeng, Druis, Yuuzuki and later also Salazar.
Who became the last guardian of the guild house and always held the guilds name in honor. 
 
Eventually, brutal marauders began to plague the lands and after some short skirmishes and mysterious incidents around a Fyra named Mezix and Alyia Ashenstorm, the first big attack of the clans on the new lands took place. Nuvad, Thy, Salazar and Lyl were surprised by them on a winter evening at the border of the Fleeting Gardens and could only escape with great difficulty. 
 
Lylanea, who by now had become somewhat more powerful, nevertheless stayed out of that conflict as best she could, merely reporting and writing down her observations. She rarely had to defend herself or others, and she admired the Zorai Sorenal, the great general, for his ability to effectively lead the amassed guilds to victory over the invaders. 
But he too was later disappointed by the growing belligerence of the guilds and left the New Lands embittered. 
Lylanea tried to bring a traitorous Matis to justice, who collaborated with the marauders, but failed in her attempt. 
The expansion of the outpost conflicts into true wars of faith and later fierce battles for resources to build the coveted temples. The resulting obligation to fight against Homins who had become dear to her, could not be reconciled with Lyl's conscience and so her journey with the Argo Navis came to an end. 
She decided to go her own way. At that time she also got to know the Tryker Chanchey Breggan, who became a close friend. 
 

== Walking Alone ==
 
The strict, clerical path of Jenas faithful had proven to be too narrow and warlike for her. Her exuberant creativity was limited and her musical talents fell asleep. 
From then on she called herself "Anima Jenae", the voice of Jena, to sing praise songs to the goddess and to provide entertainment to the Homins. 
For a long time she managed to stay out of the conflicts of religions and peoples and roamed the Four Lands, singing and making music here and there at weddings or other occasions. In the meantime she trained her other skills from time to time, but they were never really important to her. 
She fought in the defense of Pyr against a swarm of Kitin that broke through the bark of the burning desert and faced her first swarm leaders. Thanks to the courage and steadfastness of the Homins, who fought the beasts together, victory was again won in those days. 
 
Some time later, a new, young Kitin swarm appeared in the 4 Lands, which, according to scholars, had split off from an old swarm somewhere in the vastness of Atys and was now looking for a new home. It would later settle down in the Almati Forest. 
In these days she was given the honor to fight personally against this swarm at the side of King Yrkanis. 
Back to back with the karan she looked death in the eye. They mutually preserved each other's lives and his majesty praised her after the fight, which was highly unexpected. Together with some envoys of the Karavan and many other Homins she explored the new nest and here Lyl met Rangers again, for the first time after her stay in the refugee camp of the Matis. The unrestrained will of these Homins to protect the people of Atys from the Kitin and themselves, making no distinction between Homins, no matter what race or religion they belonged to, impressed her deeply. 
 
Lyl often went alone or with friends to the Almati Forest, to talk to the rangers and explore the Kitin Nest. She strangely enjoyed risking her life to learn more about the beasts. She was quite content. 
 
As she was sitting in Fairhaven's first bar one beautiful summer day, working on a new song, a messenger from the Matis Royal Court approached her and delivered a message that would turn her life upside down. 
Lylanea had been summoned to Her Majesty's court. Karae Lea Lenardi, Queen of the Matis, raised the humble Bard to nobility. Her reputation as a Songsmith had reached the ears of the Matis Royal Court as a few weeks prior she had been allowed to enrich a royal ball with her arts. 
The Karae was very fond of her music and entrusted Lylanea with preserving the culture of the Matis ordering her to work closely with the Royal Academy. 
At first, she could hardly believe her luck and was very enthusiastic about her work. She composed hymns of praise to the warriors of the new lands, but critical, thoughtful lyrics too flowed from her pen. She wrote prayers to Jena, to whom she was still devoted, at least as Matis. Together with Salazar Caradini, her old friend from Argo Navi's days, she participated in council meetings and tried to repair the fragile relations between the peoples by diplomatic means. 
But soon she realized that this was as much an unsolvable task as capturing all the Yubos of Matia. Many other nobles and guild diplomats from other lands had only had the advantage of their respective kingdom in mind, which was equal to that of their guilds. Those guilds that called Matia their home, mostly just tried to increase their own influence on outposts and thus wealth. They stirred up war and discord between the peoples. The pact that Still Wyler had paid for with his blood was forgotten. 
Karavan and Kami were in no way superior to the Homins and committed themselves to regard each other in either indifference or clear tirades of hatred. She was especially shocked by the words of a Zorai sage, who spoke with hatred against the Karavan, the Matis and Tryker and even found few good hairs on the Fyros. Karan Yrkanis and Karae Lea of the Matis tried to get the situation under control. On their orders Lylanea, together with some other Homins, managed to smuggle the young prince Stevano secretly through the primeval roots to Pyr. Already on the way there the young prince proved to be extremely arrogant. His un-diplomatic remarks to His Highness, Emperor Dexton eventually led the countries to the brink of open warfare. 
 
Disillusioned and full of anger, Lylanea finally withdrew from the new lands. She sold and gave away all her belongings and finally joined the Rangers who were searching for more refugees on the bark. During this time she fell in love with the ranger Vencci Chiviadi and from this love arose their daughter, Tauri. 
 
A few months ago she returned to see how things are going in the countries she still loves. 
 

== The Present ==
 
[[image:The_Kiss002.jpg|thumb|right|Wixarika and Lylanea|Lylanea and Wixarika, picture by Lylanea/Acridiel]]

In the time that she had been away a lot had happened. 

 
Lyl learned that King Yrkanis had disappeared and Queen Lea had died of a broken heart some time after that. The loss of Karae Lea hurt Lylanea very much. She wrote a dirge for her beloved Queen. 
Now former Prince Stevano, together with his wife Filia Tamiela, rules over the Matis people, as Karan Stevano and Karin Tamiela. 
 
Emperor Dexton of Fyros fell victim to poisoning and his only son Lycos now rules the desert. Due to a cruel incident, the diplomatic relations between the Matis and Fyros are extremely tense. 
Lyl also came to know the some of the new members of the Matisan nobility, council and court and found that most of these Homins were as stubborn and short-sighted as their predecessors. 
 
However, she also came to know more pleasant Homins. 
The Bai Nhori Drakani, the guild "Black Dragon Guard", based in New Trykoth, became her good friends and supporters of her arts. 
After a bit of cajoling and persuading from her side, Chanchey offered her to join his guild, the "Free Soul", which she accepted with great joy. She has found more great friends there. Some old and some new. 
Recently she brought her daughter Tauri from Silan to Yrkanis and started to accompany her on her first forays into the new lands. 
 
Shortly afterwards, the lovely Fyra Wixarika of the Drakani confessed to Lylanea that she harbored deep feelings for her. At first Lyl was insecure and a bit scared, because she had been alone for so long. In addition she is quite a bit older than the Fyra. But the honest, enthusiastic, open and above all loving nature of ‘Rika finally opened her heart to the avances of the pretty and firece warrior. 
They are a couple now. Which surprises some Homins very much, which in turn doesn't bother both of them. 
Tauri accepts this, because her parents were never married anyway and her father is roaming the wilderness of Atys again to find refugees. 
Lylanea is happy, even though the new countries are still far away from a peaceful future. 
 
To be continued ... 
 

= Work in the geographical society =
[[An old archive/Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe|Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe]], a report of an expedition of Rangers following their discovery of [[An old archive|what seemed a map]] to them.
= Literature and art =
== Short poems and songs ==
=== Matia ===
 
Matia is Matia 
Spring breathes in 
Summer is a warm, tender kiss 
Autumn breathes out 
Winter is a soft, cool hand 
touching a beloved face 
Matia is Matia 
 
=== New Trykoth ===
 
Without water, there is no life. 
Without freedom, there is no life. 
Aeden Aqueus - overflows with life. 
 
Trykers share everything. 
They share their power. 
They share their courage. 
They share your possessions. 
They share the winds power. 
They share their minds willingly. 
No two Homins share an opinion on them. 
But they'll give everything for you if you're their friend. 
 

===The Witherings===
 
Light is a source of life. 
And a symbol of hope. 
Zorai is full of light. 
Even at night, light is everywhere. 
We're all just lights. 
who confront the growing darkness of despair. 
All I wish for us, the homin races. 
is to be as strong as the lights of Zoari. 
So that even in the darkness. 
Our souls may shine. 
And nothing may darken our paths. 
That our lights may remain forever. 
To guide us through the deep night. 
Zorai is full of light. 
 

===The Burning Desert===
 
Burning hot sand - beneath my feet. 
Above my head - burning hot sun. 
Burning hot air - within my lungs. 
Within my veins - burning hot sap. 
Burning hot faith - within my heart. 
I am Fyros. 
 

===Atys' Lullaby===
''A song for children and grown homins alike''. 
Where there is darkness, there is always light. 
Night now gathers around the four countries. 
At first you cannot see your hand in front of your eyes. 
But soon Mother Atys shows her power. 
Can you see her lights? 
How bright they stand over the bark. 
How they shine, like sparks from embers. 
So do not be afraid and take courage. 
Do not be afraid of the dragon. 
You will awaken in the morning. 
And when you rub the sleep from your eyes 
Atys did give you a gift. 
No matter what you do during the day, 
Her light protected you, all night long. 
 

===[[Lily of Matia]]===
A dirge for the late Karae Lea Lenardi.
 
===[[Flame Of The Desert]]===
A song for a special someone.
 
===[[Will you accompany me?]]===
A song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[I'm no good at writing love songs]]===
Another song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[As Night Falls]]===
A Song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Rangers March]]===
Another song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Have you seen us fight]]===
A song for all Homins.
 
===[[An Ode To Your Feet]]===
A funny Tryker song I learned a long time ago from a Tryker bard.
 
 
There is an [https://app.ryzom.com/app_forum/index.php?page=topic/view/13748/1| external archive with poetry].

==Tales of War:==
These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. 
So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining. 

====[[The Prime Roots War]]====
Memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Surface War]]====
Other memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Hunt For A Ghost]]====
My experience hunting a dangerous criminal in Fyros.

====[[The short war for the Hidden Source]]====
A Record of one of the first battles against the Marauders, in New Matia.

====[[The Fall Of Old Matia]]====
A survivors tale of the last night of the old Forest-Kingom.

== Tales of the Lands==
Old stories of my travels as a young homin trougout the New Lands and some more recent works. 

====[[A Tale of the Desert]]====
A life changing encounter with one of the Fyros' Bandit gangs, a long time ago.

====[[The Sentinels Of Pyr]]====
A tale of true bravery, I once discovered in the archives of Pyr.

====[[What the light says]]====
A poem said and played during the [[Tales of Atysmas 2611 vigil]].

====[[Wayfarers' Guide to Matia]]====
A guide for travellers in the the Matis Kigdom.

====[[The Lost Alchemist]]====
A report of the search for a Fyros alchemist lost in Aeden Aqueous.

====[[Hush - Part 1]]====
A true story from long ago. A memorable trip to the prime roots with friends.

====[[Hush - Part 2]]====
The adventure continues.

= External resources =

* [https://www.ryzomarmory.com/char/Lylanea/profile Profile on Ryzom Armory]

 
 
<noinclude>[[Category:Homins]][[Category:Player Characters]] [[Category:Player Characters Rangers]] [[Category:Biographies]]
{{clear}}</noinclude>

User:Lylanea Vicciona

2022-09-26T22:12:24Z

Acridiel: /* An Ode To Your Feet */

<noinclude>{{Tabs
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|Pic-1=The Free Soul guild-icon.png

|Tab-2={{3DText|text='''OOC information'''}}
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|bg_Tab-2=#{{ColorAtys|type=light|group=OOC}}
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}}{{Trad
|DE=User:Lylanea Vicciona 
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}}{{clear}}</noinclude>{{Homin
|first=Lylanea
|name=Vicciona
|lucio=Lylanea_avatar.jpg
|meaning=
|title=Bard of the Four Lands
|race=[[Portal:Matis|Matis]]
|sex=Female
|nation=None
|organization=Rangers
|worship=None
|faction=[[Rangers]]
|guild= [[Guild:The Free Soul|The Free Soul]]
|rank=High Officer
|birth= Unknown
|death=Alive
|mother= Lydina
|father= Niccio
|character=Homina
}}
<noinclude>{{#babel:de|en-3|es-0|fr-0|ru-0}}</noinclude>
 
=Biography=
This is the story of Lylanea Vicciona. Humble servant to all Homins, Bard of the Four Lands, Warrior Poet and blabbermouth extraordinaire.
 
== Childhood ==
Lylanea was born with her twin sister Lynda on an island off the coast of the Old Kingdom. Her parents and other refugees had sought shelter there as the Kitin destroyed the old lands. They were not among those who were sent to the prime roots by the mystical rainbow-bridges. But maybe it was better that way. The island was peaceful and was never bothered by the Kitin. 
Early on, Lyl, as she was called, showed a talent for music and singing. Her sister was more concerned with frolicking and wrestling with boys. 
Later, it was Lyn who hung out with other young folks in town, while Lyl buried her nose in books. 
When the two of them had grown up to be young women, they asked their parents, mainly on Lynda's effort, to be allowed to accompany a group of rangers into the new lands. 
With heavy hearts the parents agreed. They were simple farmers, but they could not refuse anything to their two precious flowers. 

== First steps in the New Lands ==
 
So the sisters came to the small island which served the Matis as a reception camp. In the tiny base of Borea they took their first steps out of the safe, known world and met their first Kipees. The sisters both tried to increase their knowledge, but Lyl devoted herself to magic and Lyn continued to indulge in martial arts. 
 
When the twins finally arrived in Yrkanis, they met their first Zorai there of all places. Lyn immediately started flirting with the tall, blue-skinned, well-built homin, Lyl played the game for a moment out of pure insecurity, but was soon distracted and overwhelmed by the beauty of the city of Yrkanis, and began to explore it. 
She met some friendly homins, mainly an Matis called Waya, who helped them both to get a foothold in the newly created society and whose guild they later joined.(Anbu Force) 
Together they learned a lot and soon their first big adventure was on the horizon. A joint exploration of the Verdant Hights and an attempt to find their way into the mysterious Burning Desert, which they had heard so much about. Together with a large number of other Homins they set out and after a very strenuous journey, for the not yet very powerful Homins at that time, they reached the capital of the Fyros, Pyr. 
Lyl was deeply impressed by the architectural masterpiece of the Fyros and later spent much time in the city's bathhouse and wandered through the alleys of the metropolis. 
The other countries were also explored and the Lake-Lands reminded both of their homeland. 
They made Lynda homesick and soon the young woman decided to return home. She did not want to leave her parents alone on the farm, she needed to help and protect them. Lyl had a bad conscience, but she had learned to love the new lands and decided to stay. She began to follow the path of a priestess of Jena and initially was very loyal to the goddess. 
The farewell from her sister was tearful and hard, but in the end it was the best. 
 
[[File:Lylanea by atysartisansunited.jpg|512px|frameless|center|Lylanea in Great Yrkanis green house, picture by Altamira]]

== The times, they are a'changing ==
 
Soon after, Lyls first direct impression of the hatred that religion could stir up in Homins presented itself. She and some guild friends attended the signing of the Treaty of the Four Lands. The ceremony was dignified and beautiful, when suddenly, within a few feet of them Still Wyler, the governor of the Tryker Federation, was shot in cold blood by an apostate Zorai. 
 
Some time after that Lylanea had her first encounter with a swarm of the Kitin. Of course she had fought against the disgusting insects together with her guild-siblings before. But the sudden swarming of the beasts surprised most Homins of the Four Lands. When the separate kingdoms made the first attempt to build defenses and bases in the outer regions of their dominions, the beasts seemed to be provoked. Within a few days, the cities were surrounded by huge numbers of the giant insects and the countryside was crawling with them. A siege which the experienced Homins could hold back only with great difficulty. She herself was not yet able to contribute much to the building of the bases or to the defense of Yrkanis, but she recognized at that time that the Homins could only survive against this immense threat if they worked together. 
 
During these troubled times, her first guild fell victim to an internal disagreement and was disbanded. She joined the newly minted "Illuminati Jenae" for some time. Where she initially found good company. But after a relatively short time she left this guild again. The compulsion to have to fight friends, in order to take possession of a newly established outpost for her guild was abhorrent to her. 
 
With her cousin Nuvad and his friend Thy, who had arrived at Yrkanis City a while earlier, she founded the "Argo Navis". A small community centered around the old Matis Mystic Vessus Vega, who guided them spiritually. Lylanea never quite trusted the old man, but many others followed him devotedly. Nuvad, Pippa, Xandra, Fyl A’Reon, Eta, Thy, Taniqa, Yachalis, Tei-Jeng, Druis, Yuuzuki and later also Salazar.
Who became the last guardian of the guild house and always held the guilds name in honor. 
 
Eventually, brutal marauders began to plague the lands and after some short skirmishes and mysterious incidents around a Fyra named Mezix and Alyia Ashenstorm, the first big attack of the clans on the new lands took place. Nuvad, Thy, Salazar and Lyl were surprised by them on a winter evening at the border of the Fleeting Gardens and could only escape with great difficulty. 
 
Lylanea, who by now had become somewhat more powerful, nevertheless stayed out of that conflict as best she could, merely reporting and writing down her observations. She rarely had to defend herself or others, and she admired the Zorai Sorenal, the great general, for his ability to effectively lead the amassed guilds to victory over the invaders. 
But he too was later disappointed by the growing belligerence of the guilds and left the New Lands embittered. 
Lylanea tried to bring a traitorous Matis to justice, who collaborated with the marauders, but failed in her attempt. 
The expansion of the outpost conflicts into true wars of faith and later fierce battles for resources to build the coveted temples. The resulting obligation to fight against Homins who had become dear to her, could not be reconciled with Lyl's conscience and so her journey with the Argo Navis came to an end. 
She decided to go her own way. At that time she also got to know the Tryker Chanchey Breggan, who became a close friend. 
 

== Walking Alone ==
 
The strict, clerical path of Jenas faithful had proven to be too narrow and warlike for her. Her exuberant creativity was limited and her musical talents fell asleep. 
From then on she called herself "Anima Jenae", the voice of Jena, to sing praise songs to the goddess and to provide entertainment to the Homins. 
For a long time she managed to stay out of the conflicts of religions and peoples and roamed the Four Lands, singing and making music here and there at weddings or other occasions. In the meantime she trained her other skills from time to time, but they were never really important to her. 
She fought in the defense of Pyr against a swarm of Kitin that broke through the bark of the burning desert and faced her first swarm leaders. Thanks to the courage and steadfastness of the Homins, who fought the beasts together, victory was again won in those days. 
 
Some time later, a new, young Kitin swarm appeared in the 4 Lands, which, according to scholars, had split off from an old swarm somewhere in the vastness of Atys and was now looking for a new home. It would later settle down in the Almati Forest. 
In these days she was given the honor to fight personally against this swarm at the side of King Yrkanis. 
Back to back with the karan she looked death in the eye. They mutually preserved each other's lives and his majesty praised her after the fight, which was highly unexpected. Together with some envoys of the Karavan and many other Homins she explored the new nest and here Lyl met Rangers again, for the first time after her stay in the refugee camp of the Matis. The unrestrained will of these Homins to protect the people of Atys from the Kitin and themselves, making no distinction between Homins, no matter what race or religion they belonged to, impressed her deeply. 
 
Lyl often went alone or with friends to the Almati Forest, to talk to the rangers and explore the Kitin Nest. She strangely enjoyed risking her life to learn more about the beasts. She was quite content. 
 
As she was sitting in Fairhaven's first bar one beautiful summer day, working on a new song, a messenger from the Matis Royal Court approached her and delivered a message that would turn her life upside down. 
Lylanea had been summoned to Her Majesty's court. Karae Lea Lenardi, Queen of the Matis, raised the humble Bard to nobility. Her reputation as a Songsmith had reached the ears of the Matis Royal Court as a few weeks prior she had been allowed to enrich a royal ball with her arts. 
The Karae was very fond of her music and entrusted Lylanea with preserving the culture of the Matis ordering her to work closely with the Royal Academy. 
At first, she could hardly believe her luck and was very enthusiastic about her work. She composed hymns of praise to the warriors of the new lands, but critical, thoughtful lyrics too flowed from her pen. She wrote prayers to Jena, to whom she was still devoted, at least as Matis. Together with Salazar Caradini, her old friend from Argo Navi's days, she participated in council meetings and tried to repair the fragile relations between the peoples by diplomatic means. 
But soon she realized that this was as much an unsolvable task as capturing all the Yubos of Matia. Many other nobles and guild diplomats from other lands had only had the advantage of their respective kingdom in mind, which was equal to that of their guilds. Those guilds that called Matia their home, mostly just tried to increase their own influence on outposts and thus wealth. They stirred up war and discord between the peoples. The pact that Still Wyler had paid for with his blood was forgotten. 
Karavan and Kami were in no way superior to the Homins and committed themselves to regard each other in either indifference or clear tirades of hatred. She was especially shocked by the words of a Zorai sage, who spoke with hatred against the Karavan, the Matis and Tryker and even found few good hairs on the Fyros. Karan Yrkanis and Karae Lea of the Matis tried to get the situation under control. On their orders Lylanea, together with some other Homins, managed to smuggle the young prince Stevano secretly through the primeval roots to Pyr. Already on the way there the young prince proved to be extremely arrogant. His un-diplomatic remarks to His Highness, Emperor Dexton eventually led the countries to the brink of open warfare. 
 
Disillusioned and full of anger, Lylanea finally withdrew from the new lands. She sold and gave away all her belongings and finally joined the Rangers who were searching for more refugees on the bark. During this time she fell in love with the ranger Vencci Chiviadi and from this love arose their daughter, Tauri. 
 
A few months ago she returned to see how things are going in the countries she still loves. 
 

== The Present ==
 
[[image:The_Kiss002.jpg|thumb|right|Wixarika and Lylanea|Lylanea and Wixarika, picture by Lylanea/Acridiel]]

In the time that she had been away a lot had happened. 

 
Lyl learned that King Yrkanis had disappeared and Queen Lea had died of a broken heart some time after that. The loss of Karae Lea hurt Lylanea very much. She wrote a dirge for her beloved Queen. 
Now former Prince Stevano, together with his wife Filia Tamiela, rules over the Matis people, as Karan Stevano and Karin Tamiela. 
 
Emperor Dexton of Fyros fell victim to poisoning and his only son Lycos now rules the desert. Due to a cruel incident, the diplomatic relations between the Matis and Fyros are extremely tense. 
Lyl also came to know the some of the new members of the Matisan nobility, council and court and found that most of these Homins were as stubborn and short-sighted as their predecessors. 
 
However, she also came to know more pleasant Homins. 
The Bai Nhori Drakani, the guild "Black Dragon Guard", based in New Trykoth, became her good friends and supporters of her arts. 
After a bit of cajoling and persuading from her side, Chanchey offered her to join his guild, the "Free Soul", which she accepted with great joy. She has found more great friends there. Some old and some new. 
Recently she brought her daughter Tauri from Silan to Yrkanis and started to accompany her on her first forays into the new lands. 
 
Shortly afterwards, the lovely Fyra Wixarika of the Drakani confessed to Lylanea that she harbored deep feelings for her. At first Lyl was insecure and a bit scared, because she had been alone for so long. In addition she is quite a bit older than the Fyra. But the honest, enthusiastic, open and above all loving nature of ‘Rika finally opened her heart to the avances of the pretty and firece warrior. 
They are a couple now. Which surprises some Homins very much, which in turn doesn't bother both of them. 
Tauri accepts this, because her parents were never married anyway and her father is roaming the wilderness of Atys again to find refugees. 
Lylanea is happy, even though the new countries are still far away from a peaceful future. 
 
To be continued ... 
 

= Work in the geographical society =
[[An old archive/Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe|Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe]], a report of an expedition of Rangers following their discovery of [[An old archive|what seemed a map]] to them.
= Literature and art =
== Short poems and songs ==
=== Matia ===
 
Matia is Matia 
Spring breathes in 
Summer is a warm, tender kiss 
Autumn breathes out 
Winter is a soft, cool hand 
touching a beloved face 
Matia is Matia 
 
=== New Trykoth ===
 
Without water, there is no life. 
Without freedom, there is no life. 
Aeden Aqueus - overflows with life. 
 
Trykers share everything. 
They share their power. 
They share their courage. 
They share your possessions. 
They share the winds power. 
They share their minds willingly. 
No two Homins share an opinion on them. 
But they'll give everything for you if you're their friend. 
 

===The Witherings===
 
Light is a source of life. 
And a symbol of hope. 
Zorai is full of light. 
Even at night, light is everywhere. 
We're all just lights. 
who confront the growing darkness of despair. 
All I wish for us, the homin races. 
is to be as strong as the lights of Zoari. 
So that even in the darkness. 
Our souls may shine. 
And nothing may darken our paths. 
That our lights may remain forever. 
To guide us through the deep night. 
Zorai is full of light. 
 

===The Burning Desert===
 
Burning hot sand - beneath my feet. 
Above my head - burning hot sun. 
Burning hot air - within my lungs. 
Within my veins - burning hot sap. 
Burning hot faith - within my heart. 
I am Fyros. 
 

===Atys' Lullaby===
''A song for children and grown homins alike''. 
Where there is darkness, there is always light. 
Night now gathers around the four countries. 
At first you cannot see your hand in front of your eyes. 
But soon Mother Atys shows her power. 
Can you see her lights? 
How bright they stand over the bark. 
How they shine, like sparks from embers. 
So do not be afraid and take courage. 
Do not be afraid of the dragon. 
You will awaken in the morning. 
And when you rub the sleep from your eyes 
Atys did give you a gift. 
No matter what you do during the day, 
Her light protected you, all night long. 
 

===[[Lily of Matia]]===
A dirge for the late Karae Lea Lenardi.
 
===[[Flame Of The Desert]]===
A song for a special someone.
 
===[[Will you accompany me?]]===
A song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[I'm no good at writing love songs]]===
Another song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[As Night Falls]]===
A Song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Rangers March]]===
Another song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Have you seen us fight]]===
A song for all Homins.
 
===[[An Ode To Your Feet]]===
A funny Tryker song I learned a long time ago from a Tryker bard.
 

There is an [https://app.ryzom.com/app_forum/index.php?page=topic/view/13748/1| external archive with poetry].

==Tales of War:==
These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. 
So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining. 

====[[The Prime Roots War]]====
Memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Surface War]]====
Other memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Hunt For A Ghost]]====
My experience hunting a dangerous criminal in Fyros.

====[[The short war for the Hidden Source]]====
A Record of one of the first battles against the Marauders, in New Matia.

====[[The Fall Of Old Matia]]====
A survivors tale of the last night of the old Forest-Kingom.

== Tales of the Lands==
Old stories of my travels as a young homin trougout the New Lands and some more recent works. 

====[[A Tale of the Desert]]====
A life changing encounter with one of the Fyros' Bandit gangs, a long time ago.

====[[The Sentinels Of Pyr]]====
A tale of true bravery, I once discovered in the archives of Pyr.

====[[What the light says]]====
A poem said and played during the [[Tales of Atysmas 2611 vigil]].

====[[Wayfarers' Guide to Matia]]====
A guide for travellers in the the Matis Kigdom.

====[[The Lost Alchemist]]====
A report of the search for a Fyros alchemist lost in Aeden Aqueous.

====[[Hush - Part 1]]====
A true story from long ago. A memorable trip to the prime roots with friends.

====[[Hush - Part 2]]====
The adventure continues.

= External resources =

* [https://www.ryzomarmory.com/char/Lylanea/profile Profile on Ryzom Armory]

 
 
<noinclude>[[Category:Homins]][[Category:Player Characters]] [[Category:Player Characters Rangers]] [[Category:Biographies]]
{{clear}}</noinclude>

Have you seen us fight

2022-09-26T22:03:34Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Hast Du uns kämpfen sehen|EN=Have you seen us fight|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
A song that I composed quite some time ago actually, but wich I reworked today into its current form.We must stand together, united and not divided by personal or religious feuds. No matter what nation a homin belongs to or what god he or she follows, only united can we prevent another swarm.
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<center><poem>
/em sings a rhytmic song, stomping a beat with her foot

Let me sing you a song of sacrifice and honor.
Of war, of suffering and of victory by the sword.
When dark calamity its way broke,
And nearly destroyed us in one fell stroke.

Come proud warrior and stand beside me.
Let us fight the dark together.
So if we shall walk the last path today
And if anyone asks, so let him say
He saw Matis fighting this day

Unto every nation they fell
A swarm of insects, an endless flood
Like a mighty river of venom and blood
Planting the seeds of fear and doubt
Destroying what our peoples had wrought

Come proud warrior and stand beside me.
Let us fight the dark together.
So if we shall walk the last path today
And if anyone asks, so let him say
He saw Fyros fighting this day

/em speaking
But we return, to fight back, nation by nation.
And soon first blood will be spilled by blade and claw
Blood of the cruel beasts that destroy our legacy.
Blood of those who are willing to die for our freedom.

/em singing again
Come proud warrior and stand beside me.
Let us fight the dark together.
So if we shall walk the last path today
And if anyone asks, so let him say
He saw Tryker fighting this day

Everyone come, fight by our side!
Warriors stand tall with well earned pride
Magi dance full of grace to heal and destroy
Gunslingers, lightning quick, grant us your keen eye

Come proud warrior and stand beside me.
Let us fight the dark together.
So if we shall walk the last path today
And if anyone asks, so let him say
He saw Zorai fighting this day

The battle rages on, we are all doomed to die.
But we stand together until a single strike cleaves our bond apart
Keep fighting, with no doubt in your heart
Your path will lead you through this valley of pain
To face the enemy again
To slay the beasts, to recover the lost
To drive back to the dark, the unholy host

Come proud warrior and stand beside me.
Let us fight the dark together.
So if we shall walk the last path today
And if anyone asks, so let him say
He saw Homins fighting this day

He saw Homins standing victorious today!
</poem></center>
}}

Rangers March

2022-09-26T21:58:54Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Der Ranger Marsch|EN=Rangers March|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
A song for the Rangers. Let us fight the Kitin untill our last breath!
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|

<center><poem>
Broadswords swing and Magic flashes
Burn the enemy to ashes
Magic bursts forth from your core
Fight the Kitin til they are no more
None to loose and all to gain,
Fight to take these lands back again!

Sound the horn and call the cry!
How many of them can we make die!?

Follow orders, as you're told
Let us spill their yellow blood
Fight until you die or drop
A force like ours is hard to stop
Close your mind to fear and pain
Your fight today won’t be in vain

Let not a single beast pass by!
How many of them can we make die!?

Guard your friends and loved ones good
Send the insects to their doom
We will teach them the ways of war
They won’t dare come here no more
Use your shield and use your head
Fight untill the last beast‘s dead

Raise the flags up to the sky!
How many of them can we make die!?

Dawn is breaking, the time soon comes,
March with us to the sound of drums
We will win the war and pay the toll
We fight united in heart and soul
Whether with magic or the sword
To fight for our lands, that’s our word!

Sound the horn and call the cry!
How many of them can we make die!?

Magic flashes, broadswords swing,
Hear all soliders voice now sing
Courage grows within our core
Fight the Monsters til they are no more
Whether with magic or your sword,
To win this day, that is your word!

Sound the horn and call the cry!
How many of them can we make die!?
Sound the horn and call the cry!
How many of them can we make die!?
How many of them can we make die!?
How many of them can we make die!
</poem>
</center>
}}
 
OOC Info: This is inspired by and based on "March of Cambreatdh", by Heather Alexander.

Rangers March

2022-09-26T21:54:12Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Der Ranger Marsch|EN=Rangers March|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
Ein Lied für die Ranger. Lasst uns die Kitin bekämpfen, bis zum letzen Atemzug.
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|

<center><poem>
Broadswords swing and Magic flashes
Burn the enemy to ashes
Magic bursts forth from your core
Fight the Kitin til they are no more
None to loose and all to gain,
Fight to take these lands back again!

Sound the horn and call the cry!
How many of them can we make die!?

Follow orders, as you're told
Let us spill their yellow blood
Fight until you die or drop
A force like ours is hard to stop
Close your mind to fear and pain
Your fight today won’t be in vain

Let not a single beast pass by!
How many of them can we make die!?

Guard your friends and loved ones good
Send the insects to their doom
We will teach them the ways of war
They won’t dare come here no more
Use your shield and use your head
Fight untill the last beast‘s dead

Raise the flags up to the sky!
How many of them can we make die!?

Dawn is breaking, the time soon comes,
March with us to the sound of drums
We will win the war and pay the toll
We fight united in heart and soul
Whether with magic or the sword
To fight for our lands, that’s our word!

Sound the horn and call the cry!
How many of them can we make die!?

Magic flashes, broadswords swing,
Hear all soliders voice now sing
Courage grows within our core
Fight the Monsters til they are no more
Whether with magic or your sword,
To win this day, that is your word!

Sound the horn and call the cry!
How many of them can we make die!?
Sound the horn and call the cry!
How many of them can we make die!?
How many of them can we make die!?
How many of them can we make die!
</poem>
</center>
}}
 
OOC Info: This is inspired by and based on "March of Cambreatdh", by Heather Alexander.

As Night Falls

2022-09-26T21:49:58Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Die Nacht bricht an|EN=As Night Falls|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
A song for the Rangers. Let us stand together and fight the night, for all of Hominkind.
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|

<center><poem>
As night falls
All hope seems lost
We are with you
Do not lose heart

The night is long
Dawn seem far away
We stand by your side
Do not lose heart

Deep is the night
And dark the path
We will walk with you
Do not lose heart

The night’s full of terror
And frightfull its heart
We will stay with you
Do not lose heart

The dawn is breaking
It's not far now
We will always be with you
Do not lose heart

The night is over
Its terrors are gone
Now come with us
Do not lose heart

We stand united
Against the dark
There’s always hope
Night is falling

Never lose heart
</poem></center>
}}

As Night Falls

2022-09-26T21:49:14Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Willst Du mich begleiten?|EN=Will you accompany me?|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
A song for the Rangers. Let us stand together and fight the night, for all of Hominkind.
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|

<center><poem>
As night falls
All hope seems lost
We are with you
Do not lose heart

The night is long
Dawn seem far away
We stand by your side
Do not lose heart

Deep is the night
And dark the path
We will walk with you
Do not lose heart

The night’s full of terror
And frightfull its heart
We will stay with you
Do not lose heart

The dawn is breaking
It's not far now
We will always be with you
Do not lose heart

The night is over
Its terrors are gone
Now come with us
Do not lose heart

We stand united
Against the dark
There’s always hope
Night is falling

Never lose heart
</poem></center>
}}

Flame Of The Desert

2022-09-26T21:45:07Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Flamme der Wüste|EN=Flame Of The Desert|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
A Song for my beloved, Wixarika.
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|

<center>
<poem>

Flame of the desert
Dance wildly, full of lust for life and passion
Embrace me, kiss me and burn me
Spinn my head around
Tease me and touch my heart

Flame of the desert
Give me your sweet pain
Let me dance with you
Like a moth to a flame
Let me burn, in passion and happiness
With you, only you

Flame of the desert,
Dance and burn, dance and fly
Full of devotion, strength and courage
Shine brightly for those who love you
Protect them and give them warmth

Flame of the desert
Let me become one with you
Let me dance with you
Like the spark in the air
Let me soar in sorrow and joy
With you, only you

Flame of the desert
Let us dance, tightly embraced
Let me nourish your fire
Burn me and let me rise again
Let me love you and damn you
Together we'll be prey to the flames

Flame of the desert
Dance and burn
Dance and love
Dance and live
With me, only me
</poem></center>
}}

Lily of Matia

2022-09-26T21:36:08Z

Acridiel: Added German Version.

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Lilie von Matia?|EN=Lily of Matia|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
A dirge I wrote for my revered Keare Lea Lenardi after learning of her lonely and tragic death.

{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<center><poem>
There once was a scion, unique in the world.
brought to life by the hand and heart of a gardener.
Protected and cared for from the beginning, placed on a lonely pedestal.
Cared for and nurtured for fame and glory, guarded at all times.
Protected by jealousy from sight and hand.
So that no one would find her beauty.

Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower far and wide
Everyone saw only your beauty, but no one saw your suffering.
Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower of your time,
They saw your magnificence, but no one saw the bitterness.

The sprout grew into a flower, tender and beautiful.
The gardener quickly drew protective walls around his greatest work.
Only a few were allowed to see his masterpiece.
To enhance his own great glory was his focus.
A jewel in the crown of the people, filled with glory.
Proudly unveiled to the king by its maker.

Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower in the majestic garden,
They saw your elegance, but underestimated your spirit.
Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower in all four countries,
No one saw your wisdom, but that was about to change.

The king was very fond of the gift
and gave her to his son to marry.
And what none would have believed came to pass,
This royal couple found love.
He was wise and just,
With her by his side,
they became the greatest ruling couple.
They survived danger and suffering.
Were admired and loved by their people.
Until the end of their time.

Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful of flowers,
Everyone saw your beauty now and all your suffering was gone.
Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower of your time,
Now everyone now saw your love and there was no more bitterness.

Yet all of our time on Atys comes to an end.
King, emperor, wise man, everyone walks the last path.
The one path that leads in the gods' gentle hands.
And so too flowers of great beauty and privilege,
wither away when the will to live is lacking.
Your beloved king disappeared and was never found.
The burden was too heavy. So many lonely hours.

Oh, Lily of Matia, loneliest flower that ever was.
Everyone here now hears about your loss and shares your suffering.
Oh, Lily of Matia, strongest flower everywhere.
Everyone here now hears about your strength in your loneliness.

You’ve returned home now.
Your Sap united with your ancestors.
We will honour you when we stand before your sister,
Our tears fall into the cool spring waters.
And carry you in our hearts, always.
Farewell my queen.
Lily of Matia,
I will never forget you.
Karae Lea Lenardi.
</poem>
</center>
}}

Lily of Matia

2022-09-26T21:34:35Z

Acridiel:

A dirge I wrote for my revered Keare Lea Lenardi after learning of her lonely and tragic death.
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<center><poem>
There once was a scion, unique in the world.
brought to life by the hand and heart of a gardener.
Protected and cared for from the beginning, placed on a lonely pedestal.
Cared for and nurtured for fame and glory, guarded at all times.
Protected by jealousy from sight and hand.
So that no one would find her beauty.

Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower far and wide
Everyone saw only your beauty, but no one saw your suffering.
Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower of your time,
They saw your magnificence, but no one saw the bitterness.

The sprout grew into a flower, tender and beautiful.
The gardener quickly drew protective walls around his greatest work.
Only a few were allowed to see his masterpiece.
To enhance his own great glory was his focus.
A jewel in the crown of the people, filled with glory.
Proudly unveiled to the king by its maker.

Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower in the majestic garden,
They saw your elegance, but underestimated your spirit.
Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower in all four countries,
No one saw your wisdom, but that was about to change.

The king was very fond of the gift
and gave her to his son to marry.
And what none would have believed came to pass,
This royal couple found love.
He was wise and just,
With her by his side,
they became the greatest ruling couple.
They survived danger and suffering.
Were admired and loved by their people.
Until the end of their time.

Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful of flowers,
Everyone saw your beauty now and all your suffering was gone.
Oh, Lily of Matia, most beautiful flower of your time,
Now everyone now saw your love and there was no more bitterness.

Yet all of our time on Atys comes to an end.
King, emperor, wise man, everyone walks the last path.
The one path that leads in the gods' gentle hands.
And so too flowers of great beauty and privilege,
wither away when the will to live is lacking.
Your beloved king disappeared and was never found.
The burden was too heavy. So many lonely hours.

Oh, Lily of Matia, loneliest flower that ever was.
Everyone here now hears about your loss and shares your suffering.
Oh, Lily of Matia, strongest flower everywhere.
Everyone here now hears about your strength in your loneliness.

You’ve returned home now.
Your Sap united with your ancestors.
We will honour you when we stand before your sister,
Our tears fall into the cool spring waters.
And carry you in our hearts, always.
Farewell my queen.
Lily of Matia,
I will never forget you.
Karae Lea Lenardi.
</poem>
</center>
}}

Will you accompany me?

2022-09-26T21:31:55Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Willst Du mich begleiten?|EN=Will you accompany me?|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
A song I wrote for the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sisters wedding.
 
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
/em starts to play a soft and tender melody and beginns to sing in a low voice
<center><poem>
Will you accompany me?
You who understands my heart
Wherever I may go
Come with me on my way
Walk with me through the ages
Be with me forever
Be my shadow, be my light
Be my life
Be my most delightful duty.

Will you accompany me?
You who sees into my soul
Through pleasure and through sorrow
Through happiness and strife
Together we will go through life
From now on, forever
Be my destiny, be my aspiration
Be my love
Be my second self

Will you accompany me?
And give meaning to this journey
So we will walk together
If only you would like to
See the wonders of this world with me

Will you accompany me?
Is all I want to know from you
Then I'll be quiet
All you have to say is:
"Yes, I do."
</poem></center>
}}

I'm no good at writing love songs

2022-09-26T21:30:58Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Ich kann keine Liebeslieder schreiben|EN=I'm no good at writing love songs?|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
The Second song I wrote form the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sister.
 
/em beginns to play an energetic melody that invites listeners to dance or at least to tap their foot, starts to sing in a clear voice
<center><poem>

I can't write a song for you

If I wrote a song for you
It would never sound like this one
I'd surely use the words all wrong
When I‘d try to to get the simplest things to rhyme

My beloved's kiss is much too tender
To describe with words
Far too close and intimate
When I feel it on my lips
Far too precious, to delicious
No words are ever good enough
So, please forgive me

I can't write a song for you

Your touch is much too light
Lyrics just don't do just justice
Way too powerful and hot and
Oh so tantalizing on my skin
So electrifying is its gentle sting
So please, forgive me

I can't write a song for you

If I wrote a song for you
It would sound all wrong
I'd surely put the notes awry
All the feeling would be gone

No melody I wrote
Could recreate the magic that you cast on me
That binds my heart, that grips my soul
That heals my mind and body
That captivates me and that sets me free
So, please, forgive me

It’s impossible for me to write a love song
Love is overwhelming and confusing
It’s not meant to be contained
It defies all logic, words or melody
So I won't write a song for you
Instead I give you my hand to hold
My lips to kiss
My words to hear
My heart to love
For all eternity

</poem></center>
}}

I'm no good at writing love songs

2022-09-26T21:21:09Z

Acridiel: Added link to German version

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Ich kann keine Liebeslieder schreiben|EN=I'm no good at writing love songs?|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
The Second song I wrote form the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sister.
 
/em beginns to play an energetic melody that invites listeners to dance or at least to tap their foot, starts to sing in a clear voice
<center><poem>

I can't write a song for you

If I wrote a song for you
It would never sound like this one
I'd surely use the words all wrong
When I‘d try to to get the simplest things to rhyme

My beloved's kiss is much too tender
To describe with words
Far too close and intimate
When I feel it on my lips
Far too precious, to delicious
No words are ever good enough
So, please forgive me

I can't write a song for you

Your touch is much too light
Lyrics just don't do just justice
Way too powerful and hot and
Oh so tantalizing on my skin
So electrifying is its gentle sting
So please, forgive me

I can't write a song for you

If I wrote a song for you
It would sound all wrong
I'd surely put the notes awry
All the feeling would be gone

No melody I wrote
Could recreate the magic that you cast on me
That binds my heart, that grips my soul
That heals my mind and body
That captivates me and that sets me free
So, please, forgive me

It’s impossible for me to write a love song
Love is overwhelming and confusing
It’s not meant to be contained
It defies all logic, words or melody
So I won't write a song for you
Instead I give you my hand to hold
My lips to kiss
My words to hear
My heart to love
For all eternity
</poem></center>

Will you accompany me?

2022-09-26T21:14:44Z

Acridiel: Added Link to German Version

<noinclude>{{Trad|DE=Willst Du mich begleiten?|EN=Will you accompany me?|H=1|palette=fyros}}{{clear}}</noinclude>
A song I wrote for the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sisters wedding.
 
/em starts to play a soft and tender melody and beginns to sing in a low voice
<center><poem>
Will you accompany me?
You who understands my heart
Wherever I may go
Come with me on my way
Walk with me through the ages
Be with me forever
Be my shadow, be my light
Be my life
Be my most delightful duty.

Will you accompany me?
You who sees into my soul
Through pleasure and through sorrow
Through happiness and strife
Together we will go through life
From now on, forever
Be my destiny, be my aspiration
Be my love
Be my second self

Will you accompany me?
And give meaning to this journey
So we will walk together
If only you would like to
See the wonders of this world with me

Will you accompany me?
Is all I want to know from you
Then I'll be quiet
All you have to say is:
"Yes, I do."
</poem></center>

Chapter I·VIII - Lies

2022-09-26T21:09:42Z

Acridiel: Proofread and corrected some minor mistakes.

{{NavChap|[[Chapter VII - Slaying and Polishing]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter IX - Solitude]]}}
<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE=
|EN=Chapter VIII - Lies|ENs=4
|ES=
|FR=Chapitre VIII - Mensonges|FRs=0
|RU=
|H=1
|palette=}}</noinclude>
{{Clear}}
<center><big><big><big><big>'''VIII - Lies'''</big></big></big></big></center> 

<center><big><big>'''Jena Year 2481'''</big></big></center>

{{Quotation|''Belenor Nebius, narrator''|
The kinkoo was pacing back and forth. The cavity in which he had established his headquarters, several hundred feet below the Shell, had the capacity to hold dozens of Kitins of his size. Yet his followers were all cowering against the cave walls, fearing for their lives. Too long, the wait was becoming too long. It all began when the kipestas, sent to scout the future landing zone, came across a small nest of primates. The kinkoo had not chosen this broken stump at random. The disarticulated roots of the huge wooden frame made the Shell brittle. Although the scouting report had described those Ambigus as particularly skilled and tough, the Kitin general was unwilling to change his plans. Instead, he decided to strike a blow and launched a large swarm of of [[Kincher|kinchers]], aggressive Kitins spawned in large numbers and often sent out to scout at the start of a battle. And since then, nothing. No news from his troops.

So, the kinkoo was pacing back and forth, not hesitating to violate his unfortunate minions on the way. He didn't understand. The area of the Matrix that he had been assigned was, in principle, sparsely populated. It wasn't his choice, it was an order. He would have liked to storm the main nest in the area, but this glorious task had been assigned to a kinkoo devoted to the most ancient and powerful kizarak lord. A pretender to the throne. Yet he had dreamed himself winning the war many times, receiving the honors of his lord, the corpse of the enemy chief between his claws. Or better yet, the recognition of the Queen herself. But no. He had been assigned to an empty and quiet plot of land… At least, that's what he thought, before he lost contact with his troops. He could already see himself in horror returning to the nest defeated, broken by his inability to carry out a mission that his masters imagined to be trivial. No, he would kill himself first. Such a disgrace was inconceivable.

The kinkoo was still pacing. How long had he been waiting? He didn't know. He didn't know anymore. His cerebral ganglion, still hobbled only a few cycles before, could not, already, handle such an emotional load. After a whole life diluted in the collective consciousness, his nascent mind was still fragile and unstable. He could feel erratic electrical impulses running through his ventral nerve chain, impacting the movement of his legs and certain regulatory functions of his body. This, this was individuality. This poisoned gift, which he cherished as much as he cursed it. He tried to calm himself, but it only made him feel worse, and his senses began to blur. For the first time in his life, he was experiencing panic. He was losing his footing. Then he felt the chemical signal in the distance that he had been waiting for. A scout was approaching.

Too nervous to wait in place, the general moved toward the opening of the small gallery through which the kipesta was coming. Soon he felt the vibrations of the wings of the flying kitin, which entered the cavity a few seconds later. Aware of the seriousness of the news it was bringing, it dropped miserably to the ground and crawled toward its intended recipient. The kipesta hoped, by the display of its extreme submission, to escape the imminent and mortal anger of its master. From now on immobile, it offered to the general its back, and the olfactive message which impregnated it. The scout had been careful to describe there the defeat of the kincher battalion in detail, and knew what reaction his master would have upon decoding it. Of the lower Kitins, the kipestas were by far the most intelligent. Their proto-mind gave them the autonomy to adapt quickly in unfamiliar territory and a special ability to formulate complex messages to their superiors, mixing pheromones and variations in wingbeat frequency. The kinkoo lowered himself towards his minion and scraped at once and without care the armour to collect the information-rich mucus.

The kipesta flinched, and in an instant, the headquarters was overwhelmed with scents of rage. Several of the surrounding Kitins died instantly, overcome by the intensity of the odor charge, while others froze in place. Some even took flight, so panicked they forgot flight was their death warrant. Furious as he had never imagined he could be, the kinkoo swept the kipesta with one blow of its paw. The scout was propelled to the other end of the cave and crashed into the shell of a kinrey. The tetany added to the corpulence, the royal soldier did not flinch under the shock, while the unfortunate messenger was collapsing on the ground. He had just broken a wing, but his life was safe.

The warlords rage was fulminating, his body trembling. There was worse than defeat, there was humiliation. His battalion had been wiped out, and almost no Ambigu had been killed. How could this be? Yes, these primates had mastered a form of power reminiscent that of the Primessences. Yes, their interchangeable limbs were reminiscent of those of the Steriles. But the power of these mythical entities was said to be out of all proportion to those of these frail, soft-fleshed creatures. Had he been lied to? No, comparing the respective powers was irrelevant. It was not their individual strength that the kinkoo had underestimated in the small bipeds, but that of the group. According to the data collected on the kipesta, the primates had as good as sensed the nature of the Kitins' attack and accordingly developed a defensive strategy to counter it. When applied with a high degree of coordination, this strategy had enabled them to repel wave after wave of kinchers that the kinkoo had sent out in his naivety.

Strangely, this report was nothing like any of the previous ones, where the species was consistently described as particularly disorganized and individualistic. Had the kizarak lords been mistaken, or worse, had they been duped by the enemy? Was this nest simply made up of particularly bright individuals, or was there a guiding entity, akin to a Queen Kitin, controlling the species in the shadows? Whatever the answer to these questions, these creatures posed a danger to the Burning Swarm's plans, and for the kinkoo, that meant only one thing: he had to get there to eradicate the threat, and report what he would discover to his superiors. A new wave of effluvia invaded the space, and his minions, until then paralyzed, activated themselves in all haste, following the new olfactory instructions of their master. Yes, he had made the mistake of underestimating these puny creatures. But what about them? After their stunning victory, did they view themselves as safe from defeat? Did they think the Kitins were stupid beings? The kinkoo hoped so. Because the more stunned they would be, the more complete their debacle would be. He meant to take revenge, to humiliate them. To wash away the affront he had suffered with their blood, that was what he wanted.
{{Couillard}}
A few hours had passed since the end of the assault. Night would soon fall. Despite its size, the monstrous swarm had been entirely contained and annihilated. Yet the victory was not perfect. The huge stump that usually provided protection to the village had been deeply bruised and thirty-three of its inhabitants had died as a result of the many collapses it had suffered. They were toddlers and elders, too weak to flee in time, while those in charge of watching over them were too busy down below fighting off the bulk of the invaders. In Ceremonial Square, none of the soldiers saturated with life-saving magic, had perished. Such was the sad irony of war. While the many carcasses of the monsters had been mostly incinerated, some had been preserved for study. And while the bodies of the dead were being prepared for burial, a small group of experienced soldiers were sent on a scouting mission into the breach through which the creatures had entered the stump.

Pü was relieved to learn that his mother, assigned to protect Grandmother Bä-Bä, had had no trouble getting rid of the few creatures that had managed to approach them. However, he had not yet had the opportunity to see her again, as there was so much to do in the field of ruins that the village had become. And it is while he was busy, like many others, reducing to ashes a heap of chitinous remains, that he was called by Niï :

:''"Pü! Don't you think that Pia and her scouts are taking a long time to come back ? They should already have been back a while ago. I was with father just now… He's getting anxious."

The young Zorai glanced toward the Ceremonial Square below, where his father was talking with his Uncle Ke'val in front of the now-cleared tear. Half-concentrated, he replied in a monotone.

:''"Those monsters smell horrible. If more of them were on their way, we'd already be aware, wouldn't we? Our warriors should be back soon, don't worry."

It was a logical answer. Well… the first one that came to his mind, rather. For, in truth, he had not paid much attention to the question that showed his brother's concern. He was thinking of something else. He was thinking about their mother. No matter how much he had been told that she was well, he would have wanted to make sure for himself. Sometimes he looked up to the upper levels of the stump, hoping to see Looï among the villagers busy erasing the scars of the battle. But Without success: at no time did he see passing the figure he knew by heart.

:''"I hope you are right. In any case, father is asking for you,"'' replied his brother.

Pü took off his pair of magic amplifiers, blew off the film of ash that had settled on them and tied them to his belt. He headed with his brother to the Ceremonial Square and jumped into the pit. Seeing it thus deprived of its ancestral totem, now broken, did not leave him indifferent. Sang Fu-Tao, their father, turned to them:

:''"Ke'val and I are worried about the squad we sent to scout the gallery. They should have been back long ago. The orders were very clear and Pia is not in the habit of disobeying them."

Other warriors gathered around the four Zorais.

:''"But father, by sending more soldiers across the rift, aren't we risking the same thing?"'' objected Niï.

The Black Mask nodded sternly.

:''"That's why we're going to form a chain to go search for them while minimizing the risks."

The Black Mask detailed the strategy to his soldiers. And just as he was about to finish his presentation, a noise echoed through the gallery. In a split second, the Zorais drew their weapons and took up their positions, ready to intervene. A deathly silence filled the pit. The soldiers focused all their senses on the dark hole from which the monsters had emerged the first time, and where they now hoped to see their comrades reappear. Pü swallowed. He heard nothing, saw nothing and smelled nothing.

:''"That's right, I can't smell anything,"'' he thought.

This thought, however banal, resonated intensely in his mind. As he had reminded his brother earlier, these creatures exhaled a pestilential smell. It was mainly thanks to this that their assault had been so masterfully countered. Their stench had betrayed their approach and allowed the tribe to mount a major defense. He didn't smell anything, so why panic? He didn't know, and yet the mental echo didn't falter. There was something else, lurking in the shadows. An insidious answer, ready to pop up at any moment.

:''"What if these scents had been emitted on purpose?"

At this thought, his chest abruptly lifted. Time froze. With dry mouth, shortness of breath, and dilated pupils, he stared into the breach. Some animals were capable of producing odorous exhalations at will, which acted as an attractant or repellent. Yes, that was it. The odor of these monsters was not their primary odor, they synthesized it as they pleased. Even more terrible was the thought that followed. If these monsters were there, a few meters away from him, hidden in the darkness of the tunnel, stripped of all scent, it also meant that they had voluntarily decided to change their strategy, and therefore that they were not the creatures without conscience that he had imagined them to be. Their suicidal stupidity was feigned, it was a lie. Pü wanted to scream something, but his body was as good as petrified. A projectile then shot out of the gap, waking him from his torpor. It bounced off one of the shields and crashed limply to the ground. It was Pia's head. Instantly, several gunners armed their launchers and pounded the tunnel. But it was already too late, Pü knew it. Distraught, he looked up at the village heights. The last of the starlight was disappearing behind the top of the stump, marking the beginning of night. Yet the sky seemed darker than usual. Black and shifting. Swarming. Full of legs and spikes. It was a diversion. This time he managed to shout:

:''"Up top! They're up top!"

The warriors looked up in turn, and the Black Mask reacted without delay.

:''"Soldiers, disperse, in pairs! Everything is on tonight! So let your weapons roar, be at the top of your art! Give it all! Your soul, your heart! For Ma-Duk!"

Pü, flanked by his brother, was about to bolt to the top of the village, to join and protect his mother, as black creatures began to run down the sloping sides of the stump. But his father stopped them. Ke'val, his Shadow, had stayed close to him, facing the gap.

:''"Stay here my sons! We need you here!"

As the soldiers dispersed, a huge creature was emerging from the darkness. While its general features were reminiscent of the creatures of the first wave in many respects, there were many others that set it apart. Measuring about five meters, it was on the whole much more imposing. Its legs, much thicker and vigorous, also seemed much more dangerous and deadly. Instead of fangs, two enormous nozzles, oozing with an organic and smoky liquid, crowned the head of the monster. Its abdomen, which featured no stinger, was not arched under the legs, but stood proudly at the back of the thorax. Its armour, mostly jet black, was coloured yellow in some places. Drawing a pair of sinister eyes on its abdomen and swollen skull, the pigments formed patterns reminiscent of those, intended to ward off predators, that can be found on the wings of certain butterflies. If the giant insects they had defeated a few hours earlier were low-ranking soldiers, this creature seemed to be an elite soldier. The four Zorais backed away cautiously, without taking their eyes off it, while the crash of first fights could be heard in the distance. No sooner had it emerged from the darkness than a creature identical in every way to it followed on. Pü swallowed. How many of these horrors were they going to face? He got his answer when a third and final monster struggled out of the breach. When he realized that its legs were even more imposing than the first two, he understood why his father had ordered them to stay. Twice their size, the chitin colossus was an enlarged version of the two kinreys that had preceded him. In addition to the size difference, its carapace was painted in gleaming colors ranging from blue to orange, and it's back was studded with sharp spikes. Positioned between his dark armored soldiers, about ten meters from the homins, his presence was all the more overwhelming.

:''"Sang, he's their commander for sure,"'' Ke'val said in a confident tone.

The kinkoo's skull swept the air from left to right, as if it were looking around. Yet, like all the insectoid creatures they'd encountered so far, it didn't seem to have any visual organs. Nothing except this huge pair of yellow fake eyes, both splendid and terrifying. When he finally turned his head towards the four homins, Pü felt nauseous. The air had just been suddenly charged with odorous effluvia. Beyond their intensity, it was especially their subtle multiplicity which upset the olfactory system of the young Zoraï. Because what he inhaled at the moment did not smell like a jumble of odors without tail nor head. It was rather a coherent composition. Yes, the creature seemed to distill selected fragrances in the atmosphere, similar to the notes of a score… It tried to communicate! The nausea turned into dizziness. They had been wrong, all along. As usual, her father did not give in to panic.

:''"He's trying to communicate, he's obviously smarter than all the other creatures put together, by far. If we take him out, there's a good chance his army will be routed. Your uncle and I will take care of him. You take care of the two soldiers. Whatever happens, I ask you to stay together."

Pü put his gaze on his father's mask. He read there a determination that was second to none.

:''"We can't afford to make mistakes, you both know that. I trust you. You are my sons, my flesh. One day you will succeed me and your uncle. But that day has not yet come. Because today, Ma-Duk is watching us, Ma-Duk is testing us. He wants to make sure we are ready for the Sacred War! So make him proud, as you make me proud! To death!"

In a flash, his uncle tilted his shield backwards, while at the same time, Sang jumped on it with both feet. Holding the protective plate firmly with his left arm, Ke'val had only to infuse Sap into his right arm to multiply his strength, and to crush his hand on the back of the shield to propel his brother toward the titanic insect. The kinkoo, who did not expect that the homins would attack him while he was trying to communicate, and especially not from the air, did not react in time. Thrown like a projectile by his Shadow, the Black Mask hit the creature just as it began to raise one of its gigantic, sharp limbs, ready to strike. Quickly, Sang took advantage of the opportunity so offered to grab it and leap onto the spiky abdomen of the creature. As he drew his sword, Ke'val, who remained on the ground, began to cast neutralizing and debilitating spells, hoping to contain the chitin colossus. A new wave of effluvia, this time much more acerbic, invaded the space: incapacitated by the magician's powers and unable to get rid of the warrior who had just hit the back of its skull with his weapon, the monstrous insect expressed its anger.

Pü remained frozen for a few seconds. His father's speech never ceased to surprise him and occupied all his thoughts. Was he really proud of him? Since his return from exile a few years ago, Pü had been in public conflict with the Black Mask. So why this speech, why now? Was he really proud of himself? As if weary of the endless inner questioning the Zorai was accustomed to, the sky answered him with a dull roar. At least, Pü thought it was the sky. Raising his head to the heights of the stump, his heart heaved with joy as he realized that it was not: gigantic incandescent lightning bolts were sweeping across the space from the root on which Grandmother Bä-Bä's hut was built; his mother was, at this moment, demonstrating how she was definitely the most powerful individual of the tribe. It was taking only a few seconds for her sharp arcs of light to reduce to ash the black monsters, which, aware of the danger of their adversary, gathered in her direction to overwhelm her. Although Pü assumed that Grandmother Bä-Bä was magically supporting her mother, he also knew that she could not display her superiority indefinitely. Pü imagined running to join her, but his brother tapped him on the shoulder and gave him no time to think longer.

Especially since the two guards of the monstrous kitin commander had come dangerously close. Deciding to leave space for their father and uncle, Pü and Niï infused Sap into their thighs and leapt out of the pit in two jumps. The two creatures followed them, keeping their distance as if to gauge them. The two brothers stepped back without taking their gaze off them. Gradually, the beasts moved away from each other, and started to go around the two brothers while advancing. Cornered, Pü and Niï stopped, back to back. The two kinreys were now circling around them. Once again, the way they acted had nothing to do with the first monsters they had met. The fight was going to be much more difficult than the last one. To defeat them, they would have to act in concert with extreme concentration. Their weapons had been enchanted since the beginning of the battle, and their pockets were full of Sap crystals to power them with magic. They were ready. Pü drew his short sword and dagger, Niï his hatchet and buckler, and they each charged at a creature. With his blade bouncing off the ebony carapace at the first blow he struck, Pü knew it would be a long fight. At the first spout of blood oozing from Niï's armor, he knew that they would not be allowed to make a mistake. The fight was promising to be grueling, physically and psychologically. First dodging, thanks to small leaps, the attacks of his opponent while watching his brother from the corner of his eye, the young warrior then sheathed his weapons to slip without delay his hands inside his magic amplifiers, without even lowering his eyes. No sooner had he donned them than the first bursts of life-saving magic shot out toward his brother. During the maneuver, and despite his skill, Pü was unable to dodge one of the many pawing blows that his assailant was trying to deliver: a sharp point pierced his breastplate to the flesh. The pain, although intense, was of short duration. Indeed, as soon as he felt the flow of blood, the healing spell sent in response by his brother closed the wound. After healing, the two warriors took up their weapons as quickly as they had sheathed them and charged at their prey again. The two brothers were experienced in this way of fighting, which was the pride of the tribe and explained the fear it inspired. No formation, no predefined roles. They were at once the shield, the weapon, and the cure.

As the minutes passed, the two brothers gained the advantage. Although the gigantic monsters were much stronger and more powerful than they were, they were not able to use the powers of the Sap to heal themselves. The homins would win by attrition before their reserves ran out. Pü was the first to finish off the creature in front, then joined his brother to help him finish off the other. Both exhausted, they returned to the pit where their father and uncle faced the commander of the insectoid army. They saw with horror that another monster, identical in every way to those they had just faced, had joined the fight. On the ground, the carcass of a second creature lay. It was not one, but three opponents that their elders had had to face. The two warriors appeared to be in an advanced state of fatigue and their armors had long since shattered. Their bloody bodies were covered with barely closed wounds. Although capable of practicing magic, the homins could not relentlessly channel the Sap that irrigated them . They were not Kamis, able to manipulate the Sap of Atys indefinitely. Pü, seeing that the two elders were reaching the limits of what they could achieve, prepared to jump into the pit. But his brother blocked his way with one arm:

:''"I'll take care of it Pü."

:''"But… I can't let you go in there alone Niï, it's too dangerous! Did you see in which state are father and Ke'val?"

:''"It doesn't matter, go find Mom and Grandma Bä-Bä. Their safety is our priority."

Too focused on the fight, Pü had, for a moment, forgotten his mother. But several bearing roots had now caught fire at the top of the village. Fights were raging there. Was Looï all right? Her youngest son's throat tightened.

:''"No! Father ordered us to stay together!'''' he said.

:''"Pü…. I know you're dreaming, like me, of going to check if Mom is all right. So obey me, please!"

:''"But, Niï, I am your Shadow, I cannot let you run this risk! When father dies, you will become Black Mask, I must protect you whatever the cost! The Prophecy says that…."

Without even looking at him, his brother slapped him hard. Pü froze.

:''"Seriously Pü, the Prophecy? This is when you talk about the Prophecy?! You never believed in that crap Pü, so don't talk to me about the Prophecy!"

Niï was still staring at the pit. He continued, and his voice went off the rails.

:''"Besides, no one ever really believed it…. Except father. Everyone knows it, Pü. Everyone understands it."

Pü rubbed his mask and stammered.

:''"What is that? What… What are you talking about, Niï?"

Then his brother looked at him. His eyes shone with an unusual brightness and tears were streaming down his mask.

:''"I am not the prodigy they expected I would be. I never was. You were always far more talented than me. I will never become Black Mask, you will never be my Shadow. The prophecy associated with our name is a fable, Pü, the visions of Grandmother Bä-Bä are untruthful."

Stunned, Pü did not know what to answer. Then his brother did something he hadn't done in years. The last time, when they were not yet rivals. The last time, when they were children. He leaned toward him and pressed his forehead against his own.

:''"However, if there's one thing that's not a lie, it's the fact I love you, little brother. Mother and Grandmother Bä-Bä are the two most important people in the village, you know that as well as I do. Our entire destiny depends on them. And of the two of us, you alone can protect them.

Niï brought his hands down on his brother's shoulders, still speechless. He turned him around and pushed him hard on the back.

:''"I trust you. Go! Find them! May the Kamis guide your rush, Pü! Run there fast!"

Then, Pü jumped up, his mask covered in tears and his brain on the verge of implosion. A flood of memories and questions flooded his mind and time dilated. Her brother's words were bursting with hope, yet they sounded like the last ones. Was he acting fairly, or was he letting Niï go to his death alone? Allowing himself one last look, he turned around briefly. Niï was no longer there. He had jumped. Pü took a deep breath and resumed his run. He had to keep faith, that was all he had left. Then he heard a shout.

:''"No! Niï!"

The voice was that of the Black Mask. Faith disappeared and despair overcame Pü. Frozen with horror, he instantly turned around and put on his amplifiers. Damn him. He should never have left Niï alone, he knew it. Infusing all the sap he could into his legs, he pumped up his muscles and accelerated. The pit was only a few strides away, everything would be fine soon. But just as he was about to leap, the sky darkened. Pü looked up: a huge piece of fire-blackened bark was falling. He tried to swerve to dodge the impending collision, but too much accumulated speed caused his left leg to give way under the sudden change in direction. Pü collapsed on the edge of the pit and only had time to see his brother, his feet in the air, his body pierced by one of the huge black legs of a kinrey, before the black block hit him full force and his head hit the ground hard. Instinctively, he infused his skull with Sap to repair the trauma, but a black veil was already beginning to blur his vision. No, he couldn't go into a coma! Not now! He concentrated as hard as he could on the brain injury, the only point of light in the darkness. But then his senses shut down, one by one, and he sank.
}}
{{NavChap|[[Chapter VII - Slaying and Polishing]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter IX - Solitude]]}}
{{Portal|The Great Library|Zoraï}}
[[Category:The Sacred War]]

I'm no good at writing love songs

2022-09-26T21:08:22Z

Acridiel:

The Second song I wrote form the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sister.
 
/em beginns to play an energetic melody that invites listeners to dance or at least to tap their foot, starts to sing in a clear voice
<center><poem>

I can't write a song for you

If I wrote a song for you
It would never sound like this one
I'd surely use the words all wrong
When I‘d try to to get the simplest things to rhyme

My beloved's kiss is much too tender
To describe with words
Far too close and intimate
When I feel it on my lips
Far too precious, to delicious
No words are ever good enough
So, please forgive me

I can't write a song for you

Your touch is much too light
Lyrics just don't do just justice
Way too powerful and hot and
Oh so tantalizing on my skin
So electrifying is its gentle sting
So please, forgive me

I can't write a song for you

If I wrote a song for you
It would sound all wrong
I'd surely put the notes awry
All the feeling would be gone

No melody I wrote
Could recreate the magic that you cast on me
That binds my heart, that grips my soul
That heals my mind and body
That captivates me and that sets me free
So, please, forgive me

It’s impossible for me to write a love song
Love is overwhelming and confusing
It’s not meant to be contained
It defies all logic, words or melody
So I won't write a song for you
Instead I give you my hand to hold
My lips to kiss
My words to hear
My heart to love
For all eternity
</poem></center>

Will you accompany me?

2022-09-26T21:06:38Z

Acridiel:

A song I wrote for the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sisters wedding.
 
/em starts to play a soft and tender melody and beginns to sing in a low voice
<center><poem>
Will you accompany me?
You who understands my heart
Wherever I may go
Come with me on my way
Walk with me through the ages
Be with me forever
Be my shadow, be my light
Be my life
Be my most delightful duty.

Will you accompany me?
You who sees into my soul
Through pleasure and through sorrow
Through happiness and strife
Together we will go through life
From now on, forever
Be my destiny, be my aspiration
Be my love
Be my second self

Will you accompany me?
And give meaning to this journey
So we will walk together
If only you would like to
See the wonders of this world with me

Will you accompany me?
Is all I want to know from you
Then I'll be quiet
All you have to say is:
"Yes, I do."
</poem></center>

Will you accompany me?

2022-09-26T21:05:37Z

Acridiel:

A song I wrote for the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sisters wedding.
 
<center><poem>
Will you accompany me?
You who understands my heart
Wherever I may go
Come with me on my way
Walk with me through the ages
Be with me forever
Be my shadow, be my light
Be my life
Be my most delightful duty.

Will you accompany me?
You who sees into my soul
Through pleasure and through sorrow
Through happiness and strife
Together we will go through life
From now on, forever
Be my destiny, be my aspiration
Be my love
Be my second self

Will you accompany me?
And give meaning to this journey
So we will walk together
If only you would like to
See the wonders of this world with me

Will you accompany me?
Is all I want to know from you
Then I'll be quiet
All you have to say is:
"Yes, I do."
</poem></center>

Will you accompany me?

2022-09-26T21:05:25Z

Acridiel:

A song I wrote for the wedding of Liosta my beloved Wixarikas sisters wedding.
 
<center><poem>
Will you accompany me?
You who understands my heart
Wherever I may go
Come with me on my way
Walk with me through the ages
Be with me forever
Be my shadow, be my light
Be my life
Be my most delightful duty.

Will you accompany me?
You who sees into my soul
Through pleasure and through sorrow
Through happiness and strife
Together we will go through life
From now on, forever
Be my destiny, be my aspiration
Be my love
Be my second self

Will you accompany me?
And give meaning to this journey
So we will walk together
If only you would like to
See the wonders of this world with me

Will you accompany me?
Is all I want to know from you
Then I'll be quiet
All you have to say is:
"Yes, I do."
</poem></center>

I'm no good at writing love songs

2022-09-26T21:04:26Z

Acridiel: Created page with "The Second song I wrote form the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sister. <center><poem> I can't write a song for you If I wrote a song for you It would neve..."

The Second song I wrote form the wedding of Liosta, my beloved Wixarikas sister.
 
<center><poem>

I can't write a song for you

If I wrote a song for you
It would never sound like this one
I'd surely use the words all wrong
When I‘d try to to get the simplest things to rhyme

My beloved's kiss is much too tender
To describe with words
Far too close and intimate
When I feel it on my lips
Far too precious, to delicious
No words are ever good enough
So, please forgive me

I can't write a song for you

Your touch is much too light
Lyrics just don't do just justice
Way too powerful and hot and
Oh so tantalizing on my skin
So electrifying is its gentle sting
So please, forgive me

I can't write a song for you

If I wrote a song for you
It would sound all wrong
I'd surely put the notes awry
All the feeling would be gone

No melody I wrote
Could recreate the magic that you cast on me
That binds my heart, that grips my soul
That heals my mind and body
That captivates me and that sets me free
So, please, forgive me

It’s impossible for me to write a love song
Love is overwhelming and confusing
It’s not meant to be contained
It defies all logic, words or melody
So I won't write a song for you
Instead I give you my hand to hold
My lips to kiss
My words to hear
My heart to love
For all eternity
</poem></center>

Will you accompany me?

2022-09-26T21:02:09Z

Acridiel: Created page with "A song I wrote for the wedding of my beloved Wixarikas sisters Liosta's wedding. <center><poem> Will you accompany me? You who understands my heart Wherever I may go..."

A song I wrote for the wedding of my beloved Wixarikas sisters Liosta's wedding.
 
<center><poem>
Will you accompany me?
You who understands my heart
Wherever I may go
Come with me on my way
Walk with me through the ages
Be with me forever
Be my shadow, be my light
Be my life
Be my most delightful duty.

Will you accompany me?
You who sees into my soul
Through pleasure and through sorrow
Through happiness and strife
Together we will go through life
From now on, forever
Be my destiny, be my aspiration
Be my love
Be my second self

Will you accompany me?
And give meaning to this journey
So we will walk together
If only you would like to
See the wonders of this world with me

Will you accompany me?
Is all I want to know from you
Then I'll be quiet
All you have to say is:
"Yes, I do."
</poem></center>

User:Lylanea Vicciona

2022-09-26T20:59:46Z

Acridiel: /* Short poems and songs */

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|first=Lylanea
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|lucio=Lylanea_avatar.jpg
|meaning=
|title=Bard of the Four Lands
|race=[[Portal:Matis|Matis]]
|sex=Female
|nation=None
|organization=Rangers
|worship=None
|faction=[[Rangers]]
|guild= [[Guild:The Free Soul|The Free Soul]]
|rank=High Officer
|birth= Unknown
|death=Alive
|mother= Lydina
|father= Niccio
|character=Homina
}}
<noinclude>{{#babel:de|en-3|es-0|fr-0|ru-0}}</noinclude>
 
=Biography=
This is the story of Lylanea Vicciona. Humble servant to all Homins, Bard of the Four Lands, Warrior Poet and blabbermouth extraordinaire.
 
== Childhood ==
Lylanea was born with her twin sister Lynda on an island off the coast of the Old Kingdom. Her parents and other refugees had sought shelter there as the Kitin destroyed the old lands. They were not among those who were sent to the prime roots by the mystical rainbow-bridges. But maybe it was better that way. The island was peaceful and was never bothered by the Kitin. 
Early on, Lyl, as she was called, showed a talent for music and singing. Her sister was more concerned with frolicking and wrestling with boys. 
Later, it was Lyn who hung out with other young folks in town, while Lyl buried her nose in books. 
When the two of them had grown up to be young women, they asked their parents, mainly on Lynda's effort, to be allowed to accompany a group of rangers into the new lands. 
With heavy hearts the parents agreed. They were simple farmers, but they could not refuse anything to their two precious flowers. 

== First steps in the New Lands ==
 
So the sisters came to the small island which served the Matis as a reception camp. In the tiny base of Borea they took their first steps out of the safe, known world and met their first Kipees. The sisters both tried to increase their knowledge, but Lyl devoted herself to magic and Lyn continued to indulge in martial arts. 
 
When the twins finally arrived in Yrkanis, they met their first Zorai there of all places. Lyn immediately started flirting with the tall, blue-skinned, well-built homin, Lyl played the game for a moment out of pure insecurity, but was soon distracted and overwhelmed by the beauty of the city of Yrkanis, and began to explore it. 
She met some friendly homins, mainly an Matis called Waya, who helped them both to get a foothold in the newly created society and whose guild they later joined.(Anbu Force) 
Together they learned a lot and soon their first big adventure was on the horizon. A joint exploration of the Verdant Hights and an attempt to find their way into the mysterious Burning Desert, which they had heard so much about. Together with a large number of other Homins they set out and after a very strenuous journey, for the not yet very powerful Homins at that time, they reached the capital of the Fyros, Pyr. 
Lyl was deeply impressed by the architectural masterpiece of the Fyros and later spent much time in the city's bathhouse and wandered through the alleys of the metropolis. 
The other countries were also explored and the Lake-Lands reminded both of their homeland. 
They made Lynda homesick and soon the young woman decided to return home. She did not want to leave her parents alone on the farm, she needed to help and protect them. Lyl had a bad conscience, but she had learned to love the new lands and decided to stay. She began to follow the path of a priestess of Jena and initially was very loyal to the goddess. 
The farewell from her sister was tearful and hard, but in the end it was the best. 
 
[[File:Lylanea by atysartisansunited.jpg|512px|frameless|center|Lylanea in Great Yrkanis green house, picture by Altamira]]

== The times, they are a'changing ==
 
Soon after, Lyls first direct impression of the hatred that religion could stir up in Homins presented itself. She and some guild friends attended the signing of the Treaty of the Four Lands. The ceremony was dignified and beautiful, when suddenly, within a few feet of them Still Wyler, the governor of the Tryker Federation, was shot in cold blood by an apostate Zorai. 
 
Some time after that Lylanea had her first encounter with a swarm of the Kitin. Of course she had fought against the disgusting insects together with her guild-siblings before. But the sudden swarming of the beasts surprised most Homins of the Four Lands. When the separate kingdoms made the first attempt to build defenses and bases in the outer regions of their dominions, the beasts seemed to be provoked. Within a few days, the cities were surrounded by huge numbers of the giant insects and the countryside was crawling with them. A siege which the experienced Homins could hold back only with great difficulty. She herself was not yet able to contribute much to the building of the bases or to the defense of Yrkanis, but she recognized at that time that the Homins could only survive against this immense threat if they worked together. 
 
During these troubled times, her first guild fell victim to an internal disagreement and was disbanded. She joined the newly minted "Illuminati Jenae" for some time. Where she initially found good company. But after a relatively short time she left this guild again. The compulsion to have to fight friends, in order to take possession of a newly established outpost for her guild was abhorrent to her. 
 
With her cousin Nuvad and his friend Thy, who had arrived at Yrkanis City a while earlier, she founded the "Argo Navis". A small community centered around the old Matis Mystic Vessus Vega, who guided them spiritually. Lylanea never quite trusted the old man, but many others followed him devotedly. Nuvad, Pippa, Xandra, Fyl A’Reon, Eta, Thy, Taniqa, Yachalis, Tei-Jeng, Druis, Yuuzuki and later also Salazar.
Who became the last guardian of the guild house and always held the guilds name in honor. 
 
Eventually, brutal marauders began to plague the lands and after some short skirmishes and mysterious incidents around a Fyra named Mezix and Alyia Ashenstorm, the first big attack of the clans on the new lands took place. Nuvad, Thy, Salazar and Lyl were surprised by them on a winter evening at the border of the Fleeting Gardens and could only escape with great difficulty. 
 
Lylanea, who by now had become somewhat more powerful, nevertheless stayed out of that conflict as best she could, merely reporting and writing down her observations. She rarely had to defend herself or others, and she admired the Zorai Sorenal, the great general, for his ability to effectively lead the amassed guilds to victory over the invaders. 
But he too was later disappointed by the growing belligerence of the guilds and left the New Lands embittered. 
Lylanea tried to bring a traitorous Matis to justice, who collaborated with the marauders, but failed in her attempt. 
The expansion of the outpost conflicts into true wars of faith and later fierce battles for resources to build the coveted temples. The resulting obligation to fight against Homins who had become dear to her, could not be reconciled with Lyl's conscience and so her journey with the Argo Navis came to an end. 
She decided to go her own way. At that time she also got to know the Tryker Chanchey Breggan, who became a close friend. 
 

== Walking Alone ==
 
The strict, clerical path of Jenas faithful had proven to be too narrow and warlike for her. Her exuberant creativity was limited and her musical talents fell asleep. 
From then on she called herself "Anima Jenae", the voice of Jena, to sing praise songs to the goddess and to provide entertainment to the Homins. 
For a long time she managed to stay out of the conflicts of religions and peoples and roamed the Four Lands, singing and making music here and there at weddings or other occasions. In the meantime she trained her other skills from time to time, but they were never really important to her. 
She fought in the defense of Pyr against a swarm of Kitin that broke through the bark of the burning desert and faced her first swarm leaders. Thanks to the courage and steadfastness of the Homins, who fought the beasts together, victory was again won in those days. 
 
Some time later, a new, young Kitin swarm appeared in the 4 Lands, which, according to scholars, had split off from an old swarm somewhere in the vastness of Atys and was now looking for a new home. It would later settle down in the Almati Forest. 
In these days she was given the honor to fight personally against this swarm at the side of King Yrkanis. 
Back to back with the karan she looked death in the eye. They mutually preserved each other's lives and his majesty praised her after the fight, which was highly unexpected. Together with some envoys of the Karavan and many other Homins she explored the new nest and here Lyl met Rangers again, for the first time after her stay in the refugee camp of the Matis. The unrestrained will of these Homins to protect the people of Atys from the Kitin and themselves, making no distinction between Homins, no matter what race or religion they belonged to, impressed her deeply. 
 
Lyl often went alone or with friends to the Almati Forest, to talk to the rangers and explore the Kitin Nest. She strangely enjoyed risking her life to learn more about the beasts. She was quite content. 
 
As she was sitting in Fairhaven's first bar one beautiful summer day, working on a new song, a messenger from the Matis Royal Court approached her and delivered a message that would turn her life upside down. 
Lylanea had been summoned to Her Majesty's court. Karae Lea Lenardi, Queen of the Matis, raised the humble Bard to nobility. Her reputation as a Songsmith had reached the ears of the Matis Royal Court as a few weeks prior she had been allowed to enrich a royal ball with her arts. 
The Karae was very fond of her music and entrusted Lylanea with preserving the culture of the Matis ordering her to work closely with the Royal Academy. 
At first, she could hardly believe her luck and was very enthusiastic about her work. She composed hymns of praise to the warriors of the new lands, but critical, thoughtful lyrics too flowed from her pen. She wrote prayers to Jena, to whom she was still devoted, at least as Matis. Together with Salazar Caradini, her old friend from Argo Navi's days, she participated in council meetings and tried to repair the fragile relations between the peoples by diplomatic means. 
But soon she realized that this was as much an unsolvable task as capturing all the Yubos of Matia. Many other nobles and guild diplomats from other lands had only had the advantage of their respective kingdom in mind, which was equal to that of their guilds. Those guilds that called Matia their home, mostly just tried to increase their own influence on outposts and thus wealth. They stirred up war and discord between the peoples. The pact that Still Wyler had paid for with his blood was forgotten. 
Karavan and Kami were in no way superior to the Homins and committed themselves to regard each other in either indifference or clear tirades of hatred. She was especially shocked by the words of a Zorai sage, who spoke with hatred against the Karavan, the Matis and Tryker and even found few good hairs on the Fyros. Karan Yrkanis and Karae Lea of the Matis tried to get the situation under control. On their orders Lylanea, together with some other Homins, managed to smuggle the young prince Stevano secretly through the primeval roots to Pyr. Already on the way there the young prince proved to be extremely arrogant. His un-diplomatic remarks to His Highness, Emperor Dexton eventually led the countries to the brink of open warfare. 
 
Disillusioned and full of anger, Lylanea finally withdrew from the new lands. She sold and gave away all her belongings and finally joined the Rangers who were searching for more refugees on the bark. During this time she fell in love with the ranger Vencci Chiviadi and from this love arose their daughter, Tauri. 
 
A few months ago she returned to see how things are going in the countries she still loves. 
 

== The Present ==
 
[[image:The_Kiss002.jpg|thumb|right|Wixarika and Lylanea|Lylanea and Wixarika, picture by Lylanea/Acridiel]]

In the time that she had been away a lot had happened. 

 
Lyl learned that King Yrkanis had disappeared and Queen Lea had died of a broken heart some time after that. The loss of Karae Lea hurt Lylanea very much. She wrote a dirge for her beloved Queen. 
Now former Prince Stevano, together with his wife Filia Tamiela, rules over the Matis people, as Karan Stevano and Karin Tamiela. 
 
Emperor Dexton of Fyros fell victim to poisoning and his only son Lycos now rules the desert. Due to a cruel incident, the diplomatic relations between the Matis and Fyros are extremely tense. 
Lyl also came to know the some of the new members of the Matisan nobility, council and court and found that most of these Homins were as stubborn and short-sighted as their predecessors. 
 
However, she also came to know more pleasant Homins. 
The Bai Nhori Drakani, the guild "Black Dragon Guard", based in New Trykoth, became her good friends and supporters of her arts. 
After a bit of cajoling and persuading from her side, Chanchey offered her to join his guild, the "Free Soul", which she accepted with great joy. She has found more great friends there. Some old and some new. 
Recently she brought her daughter Tauri from Silan to Yrkanis and started to accompany her on her first forays into the new lands. 
 
Shortly afterwards, the lovely Fyra Wixarika of the Drakani confessed to Lylanea that she harbored deep feelings for her. At first Lyl was insecure and a bit scared, because she had been alone for so long. In addition she is quite a bit older than the Fyra. But the honest, enthusiastic, open and above all loving nature of ‘Rika finally opened her heart to the avances of the pretty and firece warrior. 
They are a couple now. Which surprises some Homins very much, which in turn doesn't bother both of them. 
Tauri accepts this, because her parents were never married anyway and her father is roaming the wilderness of Atys again to find refugees. 
Lylanea is happy, even though the new countries are still far away from a peaceful future. 
 
To be continued ... 
 

= Work in the geographical society =
[[An old archive/Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe|Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe]], a report of an expedition of Rangers following their discovery of [[An old archive|what seemed a map]] to them.
= Literature and art =
== Short poems and songs ==
=== Matia ===
 
Matia is Matia 
Spring breathes in 
Summer is a warm, tender kiss 
Autumn breathes out 
Winter is a soft, cool hand 
touching a beloved face 
Matia is Matia 
 
=== New Trykoth ===
 
Without water, there is no life. 
Without freedom, there is no life. 
Aeden Aqueus - overflows with life. 
 
Trykers share everything. 
They share their power. 
They share their courage. 
They share your possessions. 
They share the winds power. 
They share their minds willingly. 
No two Homins share an opinion on them. 
But they'll give everything for you if you're their friend. 
 

===The Witherings===
 
Light is a source of life. 
And a symbol of hope. 
Zorai is full of light. 
Even at night, light is everywhere. 
We're all just lights. 
who confront the growing darkness of despair. 
All I wish for us, the homin races. 
is to be as strong as the lights of Zoari. 
So that even in the darkness. 
Our souls may shine. 
And nothing may darken our paths. 
That our lights may remain forever. 
To guide us through the deep night. 
Zorai is full of light. 
 

===The Burning Desert===
 
Burning hot sand - beneath my feet. 
Above my head - burning hot sun. 
Burning hot air - within my lungs. 
Within my veins - burning hot sap. 
Burning hot faith - within my heart. 
I am Fyros. 
 

===Atys' Lullaby===
''A song for children and grown homins alike''. 
Where there is darkness, there is always light. 
Night now gathers around the four countries. 
At first you cannot see your hand in front of your eyes. 
But soon Mother Atys shows her power. 
Can you see her lights? 
How bright they stand over the bark. 
How they shine, like sparks from embers. 
So do not be afraid and take courage. 
Do not be afraid of the dragon. 
You will awaken in the morning. 
And when you rub the sleep from your eyes 
Atys did give you a gift. 
No matter what you do during the day, 
Her light protected you, all night long. 
 

===[[Lily of Matia]]===
A dirge for the late Karae Lea Lenardi.
 
===[[Flame Of The Desert]]===
A song for a special someone.
 
===[[Will you accompany me?]]===
A song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[I'm no good at writing love songs]]===
Another song written for the wedding of Liosta and Copal.
 
===[[As Night Falls]]===
A Song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Rangers March]]===
Another song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Have you seen us fight]]===
A song for all Homins.
 
===[[An Ode To Your Feet]]===
 

There is an [https://app.ryzom.com/app_forum/index.php?page=topic/view/13748/1| external archive with poetry].

==Tales of War:==
These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. 
So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining. 

====[[The Prime Roots War]]====
Memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Surface War]]====
Other memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Hunt For A Ghost]]====
My experience hunting a dangerous criminal in Fyros.

====[[The short war for the Hidden Source]]====
A Record of one of the first battles against the Marauders, in New Matia.

====[[The Fall Of Old Matia]]====
A survivors tale of the last night of the old Forest-Kingom.

== Tales of the Lands==
Old stories of my travels as a young homin trougout the New Lands and some more recent works. 

====[[A Tale of the Desert]]====
A life changing encounter with one of the Fyros' Bandit gangs, a long time ago.

====[[The Sentinels Of Pyr]]====
A tale of true bravery, I once discovered in the archives of Pyr.

====[[What the light says]]====
A poem said and played during the [[Tales of Atysmas 2611 vigil]].

====[[Wayfarers' Guide to Matia]]====
A guide for travellers in the the Matis Kigdom.

====[[The Lost Alchemist]]====
A report of the search for a Fyros alchemist lost in Aeden Aqueous.

====[[Hush - Part 1]]====
A true story from long ago. A memorable trip to the prime roots with friends.

====[[Hush - Part 2]]====
The adventure continues.

= External resources =

* [https://www.ryzomarmory.com/char/Lylanea/profile Profile on Ryzom Armory]

 
 
<noinclude>[[Category:Homins]][[Category:Player Characters]] [[Category:Player Characters Rangers]] [[Category:Biographies]]
{{clear}}</noinclude>

The Fall Of Old Matia

2022-09-26T19:52:06Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
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|EN =The Prime Roots War
|FR =La Guerre des Primes Racines
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[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<poem>

Introduction:
2481 was a fateful year for all of Hominkind and all people of Atys suffered deeply, but none suffered more from their own foolishness and arrogance as the Matis of old. It probably would not have mattered much, but surely many more lives could have been saved if not for the greed and paranoid thinking of old Matis nobles and military leaders.

As word got around that something was wrong in the deep desert and the imperial army completely occupied inside its own boundaries, Matis leadership only saw opportunity to settle old scores and to widen their sphere of influence. With the Fyros distracted, almost the whole of Matia’s standing army was set to march to the outer regions of Trykoth to wrestle valuable water sources from the small folk and snub their self-proclaimed protectors, the Fyros. As the great army left the deep woods, folk cheered them on and wished for them to return with glory and new land to settle. But then upon them came terror never known before and these few, long hours in the spring of 2481 became known as “The night of screaming shadows”.

{{Couillard2}}

In my unending quest for new and or old stories to tell, I recently obtained permission to talk to one of the oldest citizens of the Verdant Heights.
After I had explained my endeavor to preserve what is left of our people's history to them, his family was kind enough to grant me an hour in the presence of this remarkable Homin,
A true survivor of the first Great Swarm. Someone who survived the terrible calamity back then and up to this day. By virtue of the blessed hands of Jena herself, I am sure.

As I arrived at the family's estate at the prearranged time I am greeted by a servant in a nice but not too ostentatious livre. The lady of the house welcomes me inside a nicely decorated reception hall and after we had exchanged the obligatory pleasantries we proceed deeper inside the house. Just as we had previously discussed, during the exchange of some few letters, so that I might conduct my business and leave the estate sooner rather than later.
It seems the dubious fame their ancient relative enjoys, is more of a burden than a blessing to the family.

I am led into a small room with soft green moss on the floor, beautiful hand-woven tapestries on the walls, depicting scenes from Jenas teachings - blessed be her name - and large, open windows, through which the daystar shines and paints gently moving shadows of leaves from the trees outside on everything.
The room smells of fresh flowers and a bit of incense.
Barely masking the smell of approaching death.
The old, nay ancient, feeble man on the bed, prodded up on soft cushions turns his gaze from the window and nods at me as I approach.
An impatient and rough gesture, as if to say:
“Get on with your silly questions and then get out.”
Though In his eyes I see something strange.
Sorrow and shame.

My curiosity piqued, I introduce myself to him with my most charming smile but he again simply nods. Though a bit kinder and less hurried than before.
As I sit down and his granddaughter, the Lady of the House, who is around my own age by the way, tells him again what I intended to do, he lets out a deep sigh.
I am here to listen, I gently say to him, to record his tale and keep it preserved for our people.
His chest rises and falls a few times then his eyes find the beautiful day outside again and he starts to tell his tale in a halting voice, cracking with emotion:
{{Couillard2}}
“I remember … Yes, I remember.
It isn’t even hard for me to recall those hours and moments. For they’re burned into my mind forever and the sights of this night have been etched into my eyes with the sharp blade of a master craftsman.

I was a young member of the city watch. Just a few short weeks ago I had joined up and I was hoping to be promoted into the palace guard someday and from there eventually into the royal guard. Little did I know that my promotion was never to come.

I still don’t know if I’m to be proud of my deeds that night. Thinking of what came of them later. But that’s not our point here, is it?

You want to know about the last night of the old empire, the “Night of Claws”, or “Night Of Screaming Shadows” as some like to call it oh so poetically. Well, a night of claws it definitely was, and also many, many screaming shadows … My own voice among them.

The previous day our army had left for Trykoth to officially “reclaim” some territories that would guarantee our kingdom a steady water supply in the years to come. As the rearguard vanished around the first bend of the mighty “Nobles Road”, obscured from view by the forest’s ancient trees, I longed to be with them. To reach glory and claim heroic deeds that would ensure my name a place in the records of our people. Little did I know that the fourth night after the army had left and was now far away, would bring “heroic” deeds for me to last more than one lifetime.
That day passed with our normal duties.
As did the following three days and nights.
Peaceful and quiet they were, those last days of our empire.

On the fourth evening a few comrades and I were on our way to the watch house to begin our shift from dusk until dawn. It was warm and the streets were filled with the normal hustle and bustle of the hour just before the shops would close for the night.
All of us had been speculating on how long it would take the army to return and what might be keeping the Fyros from their duty of protecting the Tryker borders for the last, endless shifts of guarding a city we were convinced was impregnable and as safe as Jenas lap.

“Maybe the little crabs haven’t paid them lately.” One of my comrades mused aloud.
Another replied:

“No, they paid alright but the Fyros are tired of constantly watching that payment. For if not, the puddle-jumpers would steal it right back from under their sand clogged noses.” We all laughed at that, except for our squad leader, an older Matis with a spotless record in the service. He looked on with a thoughtful expression.

“I heard they're fighting. - Some speak of a new great fire, others of an unknown army that is attacking the empire from its southern border. Still others speak of monsters … ” His voice trailed off.

“Monsters!” I replied laughing.

“Surely these monsters will run from the Fyros upon first sight, for no self respecting monster will hurt something more ugly than itself.”

Everyone laughed at this and I momentarily felt proud. - Silly, I know.

We walked on to the watch house unaware of the change that went through the city at first. Then one of our comrades fell behind, walking slower, his head slightly tilted to the right, as if listening to something. We stopped our banter and waited for him to catch up.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Don't you hear that?” he said.

Now we all stopped and listened. A strange, low buzzing sound could be heard above the normal conversations and sounds of the marketplace. From far off, the cracking of branches was becoming audible, as if something huge was moving through the undergrowth. Before we could wonder much longer a blood curdling scream pierced the peaceful atmosphere from above us.

We all looked up and at first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. People were running from the gentle arch of one of the walkways stretching between two hometrees. A large, dark shadow moved there with unnatural speed, flickering in the half-light of the canopy. Then something dropped over the railing, off the walkway and fell down right onto our path.

At first I thought it was a branch or part of the ornamentation of the bridge’s arch.
But when something wet splashed against my cheek, as the thing landed right at my feet with an audible thump,I realized what it was.

Dumbstruck we all stared at the severed arm that lay before us. Horrified I watched as its fingers moved in a last spastic clutch. When my own raised hand came away from my face it was red with blood.
Again we heard screams.

All around the city now voices were raised in alarm and abject terror. As I looked up again, what I saw almost made the blood freeze in my veins. The strange shadow we’d seen moved away from the archway. It flew through the air with predatory ease, its huge wings buzzing and trailing blood behind it, flowing in crimson streams from the struggling form of a Homin speared on its front extremities. Then the giant insect shook itself violently and the man dropped from its stinger, his limp form plummeting to the ground to crash into a shrub beside us.

The crash startled us from our shocked stupor. As one we began running towards the guardhouse, shouldering our way through the panic and confusion milling around us. Everyone was running somewhere or looking for someone, their panicked screams echoing through the streets. All around the city the forest seemed to move with unseen presences. The alarm bells of the guardhouse began tolling their shrill notes to summon every available man to arms, and when we arrived many of our comrades were already armed and ready to move out against our attackers. But still many more didn’t have a clue to what we were up against, and Jena, I wish we’d never known.

Over the confused din our Captain shouted orders for us to calm down and do our duty. We grabbed our pikes and ran after him, out into the streets again.

We tried to make our way to the outskirts of the city, but before we were even halfway across the town center people came running towards us. I had never seen - and never have seen again - so many terrified Homins. They were shouting and screaming something about the forest coming for them and snatching away friends, loved ones, and strangers alike. Some raved of monsters that suddenly appeared from the undergrowth and attacked whatever was in their way, others cried of flying beasts that tried to enter the upper floors of hometrees. We ran on, my lungs burning from the effort, until our squad finally reached the outskirts of town.

There everything was eerily quiet except for the buzzing that was becoming louder by the minute. No Homins were about, the smaller buildings abandoned and all hometrees and gates locked against the invaders.
The wall that was more of a glorified fence truth be told, seemed flimsy and somehow inappropriate to hold back the fear that was slowly creeping out of the dark forest into our hearts. The forest that had for so long protected and nurtured the Matis people. That in conjunction with the thick wall of woven fiber, bark and living branches had withstood anything that had tried to best it in the past.
Cautiously, we moved towards the forest’s edge. Never before had these woods seemed so dark, so malignant to me. I thought I saw movement there, between the tall trees and the lush undergrowth; something incredibly fast, scuttling about.
As we carefully approached the bushes a deep hiss emerged from them. Cautiously, against all better judgment, we took a step closer. I held my breath, my heart thumping in my ears and my throat. I heard some of my comrades do the same but still we all yelped like frightened Yubos as something burst from its hiding place.

It was fast as a falling star, its dark green carapace, speckled with light brown, glistening in the glow of the streetlights. It rushed at us with such ferocity, it took all of us by surprise. Four of its legs tapped a staccato on the hard ground as it raced towards us, front legs raised high, like vicious spears, ready to pierce us. Its flat, wide head was lowered like a shield to protect its strangely round torso. It was taller than a grown Matis, than even a grown Zoraï. It fiercely hacked and stabbed at us with its front legs. Growling and roaring horribly. Together the eight of us slashed it apart with our pikes, keeping our distance, avoiding its madly flailing legs.

As it lay twitching before us, in a growing pool of yellow blood, we gathered around it.

“What in Jena’s Name is that?”

“Damned if I know.”

“It’s a spider, see its legs?”

“A spider’s got eight legs, this one’s only got six. It’s some kind of bug.”

“It’s a really big bug.”

“Keep it together folks, we don’t know if there are any more out there,” our Squad Leader said cautiously, keeping his voice low.

“Right, we better keep our eyes open. At last they’re easy to kill…”

At that very moment the buzzing in the background again grew louder. Beyond that, the citizens' screams increased in volume as well. The frantic ringing of the guardhouse bells nearly drowned in the horrific cacophony.

A terrible, inhomin shriek pierced the darkness from beyond the limits of the city. It was answered by another and another a little to our left and right, followed by other unnatural screeching cries and deep growls.
Chattering, hissing sounds emerged from the forest all around the city.
From up above we heard the sound of breaking branches. Something big was crashing through the canopy.

Then the darkness beyond our sparse light came alive. I still only remember impressions of disturbingly thin legs and bodies dislodging themselves from trees where they had been crouching, camouflaged in the dark. All around us the forest came alive, and it was headed straight towards us.

Horrified, half of us turned and ran. Two others, our Squad Leader and I, remained behind.
We tried to keep them back.
But it was like standing against a raging river.
They flowed around and over us.
Within seconds my comrades fell beside me.
I repeatedly stabbed the body of a small, green Insect that had dug its claws into the Squad Leaders throat until it was dead and he lay beside it, unmoving. I say small, but only compared to those who kept stalking the night around us.
It was bigger than a young Mektoub.
I held a bigger one back from killing the man beside me, when another jumped into the fray from the side and dragged him away. His screams mingled with those of the dying city.”

Here the old man falters in his tale for a moment, his blue eyes fill with tears and he looks down upon his hands folded in his lap.
He remains silent for a span, then again sighs heavily and continues. His voice filled with deep sorrow.

“I freely admit it and I’m deeply ashamed of it, but after this moment, witnessing the futility of what we were doing, I ran for my life. All of us ran that night. There wasn’t a single soul that didn’t. We didn’t stand a chance. Those poor, brave souls who stayed behind to fight; they were never seen again. Most of us simply ran and never looked back, or ran right into the claws of the Kitin.

Of course back then they didn’t go by that name. Nobody had yet bothered to attach names to the different monsters. They were just there.
Nameless horrors that killed everyone and everything they got their claws on. Man, woman, child or beast of burden.
Those monsters moved through the city like reapers through a field of wheat, harvesting terror and blood. Streaming in hundreds or even thousands from the forest, dropping onto archways from the low canopy, climbing up and down hometrees or simply ripping away the bark like it was paper and crawling inside to get at the soft life hiding inside. They flew through the cold air, picking up people while in mid-flight, without even slowing, their pincers and stings sharp as swords, ripping and tearing, letting their bodies drop to join the mutilated remains of friends and family below.

I remember my first glimpse of what came to be known as a Kipesta. It swooped down from the canopy onto a group of Homins huddled beneath a great root. At first trying to reach them with the stingers at its back. Contorting itself in horrible ways to get at its prey. Then seemingly realizing the futility of this, deflating its strange secretion sack into the hollow. The small space where the people were hiding was immediately filled with searing flames. I was too far away to do anything, too surprised and appalled by this perversity against nature.
I was unable to do anything but stare.
The screams of those trapped and burning alive in that small space still haunt my dreams after all these years.

I saw the heavily armored forms of Kipukas crash through the brush outside, the wall and the city. Crushing any resistance beneath their massive legs. Trampling, piercing every living thing in their paths.
Kincher scuttled about their feet, cutting to red ribbons everything that still moved.

These weird things, shaped like mushrooms, sprayed a paralyzing mist around themselves.
Something massive, big, black and white, with glowing yellow eyes tore down the belltower of our headquarters. Burying those of my fellow watchmen that had barricaded themselves in there forever.

I’m not certain how and if I even should feel lucky that I survived. Jena knows it's more of a punishment to live with my shame.
I ran, dropped my pike and ran. Dodging other Homins and giant insects alike, fleeing headlong into the forest, running until my legs gave way and I dropped to the floor unconscious from shock and exhaustion. Days later I found another group of refugees and we made our way to a Karavan camp they had heard of.

That is my shameful tale and I will tell no more.”
{{Couillard2}}
With that the old man goes silent and sullen again. I am unable to confirm his story, though we of course have encountered the Kitin in these New Lands again.
We can only hope that these horrors will never happen again and that these lands will be spared a second swarm.

</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

Chapter I·VI - The Awakening

2022-09-12T21:51:48Z

Acridiel: Proofread and corrected some grammatical errors, typos and weird translations that caused some sentences to be hard to read.

{{NavChap|[[Chapter V - The Seed of Doubt]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter VII - Slaying and Polishing]]}}
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|EN=Chapter VI - The Awakening|ENs=4
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<center><big><big><big><big>'''VI - The Awakening'''</big></big></big></big></center> 

<center><big><big>'''Jena Year 2481'''</big></big></center>
{{Quotation|''Belenor Nebius, narrator''|
Nearly ten meters tall, the Kinkoo was moving briskly at the head of the procession. Setting the tempo and pushing aside those [[Kitin]]s that stood in its path through the galleries attached to the large tunnel it was following. The very tunnel that led to the center of the Kitins' nest. There was no need to use its six powerful slashing legs, the sharp spikes that defended the dorsal part of its abdomen, or its acid-filled skull nozzles to do so. The clicking sounds of its mandibles, the pheromones it was infusing into the air, and its shimmering orange-blue carapace were enough to scare off any worker, soldier, or scout of the [[Kitin-nests|kitin-nest]].

To the common Kitin, the Kinkoos were at the top of the hierarchical pyramid. They were both the generals who planned the colony's military operations and the personal enforcers of the [[kizarak]] lords, whose authority and power they assumed in their absence. Today was a special day, as the Kinkoo was protecting its lord. Normally, this task was assigned to the [[Kidinak|kidinaks]], one of whose main duties was to secure the royal nests, from which their occupants rarely left. But today, the Kizarak had to abandon the comfort of its confined den, exposing its beautiful yellow mouth petals and azure blue coat to the view of the lower Kitins. And outside the nest, who better to protect him than its trusted sword arm? So, placed second in the procession, the Kizarak was letting the Kinkoo lead the procession through the galleries of the Kitin-Nest, thus avoiding any contact with the plebs. On its flanks and behind him, the [[Kinrey|kinreys] were forming a wall of their carapaces, thus isolating him completely. These Kitins looked like atrophied versions of the Kinkoo. Only five meters tall, they had a black shell, spotted with yellow, and less sharp than their general's. For the Kinkoo, such closeness to its lord was rare. Usually, orders from the latter were transmitted to him by [[Kipesta|kipestas]], iridescent Kitins with six wings, an elongated abdomen reminiscent of the dragonfly, and a venom pouch located under the head and connected to a proboscis. It often happened that it did not see its lord during several cycles. If it secretly regretted this distance, it had never shown it.
The Kitins were eusocial beings with a collective consciousness and organized into a particularly strict hierarchy. Each of them occupied a specific role in the colony, one that often required little reflexive ability. Conversely, some key positions required a high degree of improvisation. As a result, the Kitins who held these positions often developed a more individual consciousness. This was the case with the Kizarak lords, who ran the Kitin-Nest under the direct orders of the queen, and, less formally, with some of their most trusted generals. Non-royal Kitins who were thought to have an individual conscience were monitored, in case any thoughts of secession crossed their minds. The Kinkoo was one of them, and had recently awakened from the catatonic state in which most of its kind would remain their whole life long. It had begun to become aware of its own existence as its lord delegated more and more tasks to it.
Eventually he had understood, the thoughts that had kept his existence in order until then and that he had been following instinctively since his birth, were not dictated by a higher being. But secreted directly by his central nervous system. The bicameral mind had collapsed, freeing the soul of the Kinkoo and creating a place for the "self" next to the "we". This awakening had been particularly unpleasant for him, making a previously rigidly channeled flow of thought extremely complex. However, and contrary to what one could have believed, this acquired freedom had still reinforced its obedience: the proximity of its lord saturated its olfactory receptors with pheromones, and awakened in him strange sensations, new feelings, which more than ever gave meaning to its existence.
But it was not this proximity that was making this day a special one. The queen herself had ordered her Kipekoos, royal Kipestas that were more massive and colorful than their lesser breed-siblings, to warn all the authorities of the Kitin-Nest. The last time this had happened, a turf war had been declared, which had resulted in the destruction of a neighboring Kitin-Nest and the death of many members of the colony. So the Kinkoo expected another major battle, and as he pushed back the workers who were blocking the road, he was already thinking about how to organize its troops. When the procession finally entered the royal nest, where all had been invited, as the first royal fragrances reached him, the Kinkoo felt its shell stiffen. If there was anything that could stimulate him more than the smell of its lord, it was the smell of its mother. Surrounded by a security cordon of kidinaks, the Kitin sovereign, whose yellow and scarlet cranial excrescences were reminiscent of a crown, sat proudly on a huge vegetal carpet, which served as both her throne and her bed, and from which she never rose. However, the place was perfectly clean. A horde of workers was constantly working to maintain the queen's mattress, to clean her gigantic pearly abdomen, and to supply the enormous banquet that was constantly facing her. The banquet consisted largely of mushrooms and meat. Indeed, the Kitins took advantage of the dark and humid galleries that made up their vast territory to transform them into veritable mushroom beds, in which they practiced intensive agriculture. As for meat, it came from hunting animals, but also from breeding, which they practiced to a lesser extent.
The queen's nest was crowded with six-footed and flying Kitins, and the most important individuals were already all gathered. The high ceiling of the huge cavern was covered with glowworms, whose light reflected off the creatures' shells and set the whole space ablaze in a mesmerizing kaleidoscopic effect. The Kinkoo moved to the front row and placed its lord next to the other Kizaraks in the colony. As he was about to take its own place, a foreign smell came, exciting it's olfactory receptors. A Kiipekoo from an enemy colony darted into the nest, soon followed by other Kitins of its rank from several other Kitin-Nests. Instinctively, the Kinkoo saw these intrusions as a frontal attack and stood up on its legs. But it only took him a split second to remember that these foreign Kipekoos were actually royal ambassadors. Moreover, the queen responded to the arrival of the messengers with reassuring clicks, to calm her offspring and make them understand that everything was under control. However, a feeling of distrust pervaded the den. Under the orders of their sovereign, the Kidinaks broke formation and the Kipekoos passed one by one before the mistress of the place. With her massive pincers, she scraped the backs of the ambassadors to recover the olfactory messages that were deposited there.
The Kinkoo was trying along to hide its emotions and control the fragrances he was giving off. It was no coincidence that the queen had ordered all of her most important subjects to assemble at the very moment the royal messengers arrived, he was convinced. For between them, the foreign kipekoos represented all the known rulers. While the Kitin-Nest authorities occasionally did business with other colonies, the Kinkoo had never experienced such a gathering. But the myths, as memorized and passed down by the handful of conscious Kitins, referred to two great events that took place long before the queen was born, and which necessitated the formation of a huge Kitin alliance: the Burning Swarm. The first story recounted the war against the Primessences, strange entities that rose from the depths of the Great Egg, and whose intense, unblemished scent was shared, in a much more tenuous way, by all the creatures that lived there, Kitins included. Their power was so overwhelming that the early colonies had to put aside their rivalries for the first time. The Primessences had unique powers that allowed them to control the environment of the Great Egg, to change their appearance at will, to appear and disappear instantly, and to travel wherever they wished within the intricate maze of caverns. However, as soon as the first Kitin-Nest was invaded and the queen sitting in was eaten, the supernatural creatures headed back to the heart of the Great Egg, ending the conflict. Since this strange episode, the Primessences were showing a profound disinterest in the Kitins. According to the second story, their attention had turned to a greater enemy: the Steriles. These small, bipedal creatures resembled the bouncing primates the Kitins were so fond of, and had strong black shells with a unique, untold smell. Even stranger was the fact that they in no way shared the scent of the Primessences, which permeated every recess of the Great Egg. The explanation probably lay in the fact that the Steriles came from the Matrix, the uncharted territory above the Great Egg. While the Kitins were forbidden to break through the Shell into the Matrix, the Sterile had made many attempts to colonize the Great Egg. To do so, they had tamed gigantic black cylindrical creatures from their world, continuously digging, and burning everything in their path. It was after a major invasion that the Burning Swarm was reformed. Unfortunately, though small and physically very weak, the Steriles had two formidable upper limbs, which could spread death from a distance, and whose power was beyond the Kitins' comprehension. Fortunately, the Primessences did not seem to appreciate the presence of these extraneous invaders and for the opportunity became allies by necessity. But even though the Kitins had long been aware of the carnal bond uniting the Great Egg and the Primessences, they preferred to play it cautious and avoid contact with them. To date, the Kinkoo had seen only one Primessence, during a military operation that had taken him away from the Kitins' nest. this one was a black ball of hair, barely a meter tall, with two short legs and two long clawed arms, along with a pair of completely white eyes. As for the Steriles, he had never seen one. But after all, there was no evidence that these strange primates actually existed, and perhaps they were merely simulacra made to keep the Kitins away from the Matrix…
Lost in a stream of thoughts he still struggled to control, the Kinkoo was brought back to reality by a relentless scent. The queen exhaled a scent of subjugation, and in unison, each of the Kitins present bowed, mandibles touching the ground. The Kinkoo's individuality was smashed to pieces under the pressure of the psychic hold, and for the first time in a long time, he let go completely. The "self" faded away in favor of the "we". The queen straightened her massive body, and in a subtle chain of clicks, buzzes and scents, she addressed her court: the Shell had been breached and an unknown species had entered the Great Egg. Although, just like the Steriles, these strange ones resemble primates morphologically, they had by contrast much weaker interchangeable shells. These served to protect their flaccid skin, whose color varied from cream to ochre and to blue depending on the individual. In addition, their upper limbs differed from those of the legendary foes and were mainly equipped with sharp, piercing growths. As for their primary odor, it was particularly noticeable, reminiscent at times of that of the Steriles, while being impregnated with that of the Primessences. Moreover, these strange primates called upon a power reminiscent of that of supernatural creatures, even if on a much smaller scale. It was on the basis of this initial information that the name "Ambiguous" was assigned to them.
The arrival of these Ambiguous was confirming the presence of unknown species living within the Matrix, giving credence to the myth of the Steriles, and heralding the beginning of an era of violence. Indeed, the first action of the invaders had been to burn a small, isolated nest to the ground. No Kitin was spared, eggs included. The Kitin authorities who owned the nest quickly retaliated, and the murderers were all eaten. Defying the age-old ban, the queen decided to send Kipestas beyond the rift to identify the threat more precisely. Once returned, the scouts reported their discovery: the Matrix was a gigantic inhabitable world with a wide variety of unseen environments. Its ceiling, which seemed to be a staggering distance from the ground, changed configuration and color cyclically. At times, it had huge, moving amber spheres that radiated a blinding light throughout the space. At other times, it was studded with thousands of tiny gems, and the ambient brightness was reminiscent of the cold, familiar glow of the Great Egg. this world, rich in raw materials, was populated by a multitude of unknown species, including the one that had broken the Shell. The Ambiguous lived in nests of many varying sizes whose common feature was to be particularly disorganized. Individuals there went about their business in an irrational manner, and many of the actions they took did not seem to be helpful to the functioning of the nest they inhabited. For the Kitins, this was crucial and demonstrated the inferiority of the creatures. After all, the Kitins and the Primessences, the two most advanced species in the Great Egg, were collective beings, organized according to very precise rules and obeying forces that were singularly beyond them. In contrast, the life of these bipeds seemed to be governed only by individualism and chaos. Initially, the queen who made the discovery thought she would keep the secret and exploit the treasures of the Matrix for her own colony. However, the existence of a world beyond the Shell threatened the very integrity of the Great Egg, and despite the many turf wars that had never ceased, the Kitin-Nests knew how to put their rivalries aside when necessary. So the queen set out to warn all her sisters. After several reconnaissance operations and many debates, a decision was made: the legendary Burning Swarm would be reformed. Once the countries of the Matrix were conquered, they would be divided equally among the various colonies.
Finally, the binding fragrances began to fade, and gradually the Kinkoo awoke. The queen had finished her general announcement and was now content to send chemical and auditory messages that only the Kizaraks could understand. Around him, apart from the presence of the foreign Kipekoo, there was absolutely nothing to indicate the historic nature of the moment. While some of the Kitins left the nest in a row under their lord's orders, others waited patiently for instructions. As usual in the Kitin's nest, everything was perfectly choreographed, no matter how big or small the event. Yet at the same time, the Kinkoo was in deep internal disarray. Indeed, the comforting state of servitude had soon given way to the dizziness of free will. His mind was in turmoil, shot through with new emotions. One, particularly strange, disturbed him and affected his body. The heat of its hemolymph seemed to have taken a few degrees, its heart rate was gaining in intensity and its carapace was crossed by slight tremors. In this moment, the Kinkoo had never felt so awake and free. He dreamed of victories and recognition. For the first time, he was experiencing excitement and impatience.
{{Couillard}}
Kilometers above, Pü woke up just as the amber star disappeared below the horizon. The child had grown to about two metres in height. Seven years had passed since he had returned from its forced ritual exile. Seven years that had allowed his doubts to subside. Gradually, and in spite of the deep disagreement that opposed him to its father and brother, the young homin's convictions had begun to touch some members of the tribe: according to him, it was necessary to stop blindly following the precepts of the Black Cult of Ma-Duk, without disowning the Great Genitor. Moreover, despite his father's insistant requests, Looï and Grandmother Bä-Bä did not take sides and let things happen without intervening. To mark his opposition, the Black Mask had refused to allow his youngest son to receive the tattoos of merit which, in principle, came to complete the one received on return from exile by every Black Warrior. But for Pü, all that mattered little. He was not dreaming of the advent of the Happy Days, he was already living them, with its mother. For the young idealist, everything was going well, and there was nothing to suggest that under its feet, the most terrible enemy of hominkind was waking up….
}}
{{NavChap|[[Chapter V - The Seed of Doubt]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter VII - Slaying and Polishing]]}}
{{Portal|The Great Library|Zoraï}}
[[Category:The Sacred War]]

The Fall Of Old Matia

2022-09-12T21:46:01Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Die Urwurzelkriege
|EN =The Prime Roots War
|FR =La Guerre des Primes Racines
|H =
|palette=primes
}}</noinclude>
[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<poem>

Introduction:
2481 was a fateful year for all of Hominkind and all people of Atys suffered deeply, but none suffered more from their own foolishness and arrogance as the Matis of old. It probably would not have mattered much, but surely many more lives could have been saved if not for the greed and paranoid thinking of old Matis nobles and military leaders.

As word got around that something was wrong in the deep desert and the imperial army completely occupied inside its own boundaries, Matis leadership only saw opportunity to settle old scores and to widen their sphere of influence. With the Fyros distracted, almost the whole of Matia’s standing army was set to march to the outer regions of Trykoth to wrestle valuable water sources from the small folk and snub their self-proclaimed protectors, the Fyros. As the great army left the deep woods, folk cheered them on and wished for them to return with glory and new land to settle. But then upon them came terror never known before and these few, long hours in the spring of 2481 became known as “The night of screaming shadows”.

{{Couillard2}}

In my unending quest for new and or old stories to tell, I recently obtained permission to talk to one of the oldest citizens of the Verdant Heights.
After I had explained my endeavor to preserve what is left of our people's history to them, his family was kind enough to grant me an hour in the presence of this remarkable Homin,
A true survivor of the first Great Swarm. Someone who survived the terrible calamity back then and up to this day. By virtue of the blessed hands of Jena herself, I am sure.

As I arrived at the family's estate at the prearranged time I am greeted by a servant in a nice but not too ostentatious livre. The lady of the house welcomes me inside a nicely decorated reception hall and after we had exchanged the obligatory pleasantries we proceed deeper inside the house. Just as we had previously discussed, during the exchange of some few letters, so that I might conduct my business and leave the estate sooner rather than later.
It seems the dubious fame their ancient relative enjoys, is more of a burden than a blessing to the family.

I am led into a small room with soft green moss on the floor, beautiful hand-woven tapestries on the walls, depicting scenes from Jenas teachings - blessed be her name - and large, open windows, through which the daystar shines and paints gently moving shadows of leaves from the trees outside on everything.
The room smells of fresh flowers and a bit of incense.
Barely masking the smell of approaching death.
The old, nay ancient, feeble man on the bed, prodded up on soft cushions turns his gaze from the window and nods at me as I approach.
An impatient and rough gesture, as if to say:
“Get on with your silly questions and then get out.”
Though In his eyes I see something strange.
Sorrow and shame.

My curiosity piqued, I introduce myself to him with my most charming smile but he again simply nods. Though a bit kinder and less hurried than before.
As I sit down and his granddaughter, the Lady of the House, who is around my own age by the way, tells him again what I intended to do, he lets out a deep sigh.
I am here to listen, I gently say him, to record his tale and keep it preserved for our people.
His chest rises and falls a few times then his eyes find the beautiful day outside again and he starts to tell his tale in a halting voice, cracking with emotion:
{{Couillard2}}
“I remember … Yes, I remember.
It isn’t even hard for me to recall those hours and moments. For they’re burned into my mind forever and the sights of this night have been etched into my eyes with the sharp blade of a master craftsman.

I was a young member of the city watch. Just a few short weeks ago I had joined up and I was hoping to be promoted into the palace guard someday and from there eventually into the royal guard. Little did I know that my promotion was never to come.

I still don’t know if I’m to be proud of my deeds that night. Thinking of what came of them later. But that’s not our point here, is it?

You want to know about the last night of the old empire, the “Night of Claws”, or “Night Of Screaming Shadows” as some like to call it oh so poetically. Well, a night of claws it definitely was, and also many, many screaming shadows … My own voice among them.

The previous day our army had left for Trykoth to officially “reclaim” some territories that would guarantee our kingdom a steady water supply in the years to come. As the rearguard vanished around the first bend of the mighty “Nobles Road”, obscured from view by the forest’s ancient trees, I longed to be with them. To reach glory and claim heroic deeds that would ensure my name a place in the records of our people. Little did I know that the fourth night after the army had left and was now far away, would bring “heroic” deeds for me to last more than one lifetime.
That day passed with our normal duties.
As did the following three days and nights.
Peaceful and quiet they were, those last days of our empire.

On the fourth evening a few comrades and I were on our way to the watch house to begin our shift from dusk until dawn. It was warm and the streets were filled with the normal hustle and bustle of the hour just before the shops would close for the night.
All of us had been speculating on how long it would take the army to return and what might be keeping the Fyros from their duty of protecting the Tryker borders for the last, endless shifts of guarding a city we were convinced was impregnable and as safe as Jenas lap.

“Maybe the little crabs haven’t paid them lately.” One of my comrades mused aloud.
Another replied:

“No, they paid alright but the Fyros are tired of constantly watching that payment. For if not, the puddle-jumpers would steal it right back from under their sand clogged noses.” We all laughed at that, except for our squad leader, an older Matis with a spotless record in the service. He looked on with a thoughtful expression.

“I heard they're fighting. - Some speak of a new great fire, others of an unknown army that is attacking the empire from its southern border. Still others speak of monsters … ” His voice trailed off.

“Monsters!” I replied laughing.

“Surely these monsters will run from the Fyros upon first sight, for no self respecting monster will hurt something more ugly than itself.”

Everyone laughed at this and I momentarily felt proud. - Silly, I know.

We walked on to the watch house unaware of the change that went through the city at first. Then one of our comrades fell behind, walking slower, his head slightly tilted to the right, as if listening to something. We stopped our banter and waited for him to catch up.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Don't you hear that?” he said.

Now we all stopped and listened. A strange, low buzzing sound could be heard above the normal conversations and sounds of the marketplace. From far off, the cracking of branches was becoming audible, as if something huge was moving through the undergrowth. Before we could wonder much longer a blood curdling scream pierced the peaceful atmosphere from above us.

We all looked up and at first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. People were running from the gentle arch of one of the walkways stretching between two hometrees. A large, dark shadow moved there with unnatural speed, flickering in the half-light of the canopy. Then something dropped over the railing, off the walkway and fell down right onto our path.

At first I thought it was a branch or part of the ornamentation of the bridge’s arch.
But when something wet splashed against my cheek, as the thing landed right at my feet with an audible thump,I realized what it was.

Dumbstruck we all stared at the severed arm that lay before us. Horrified I watched as its fingers moved in a last spastic clutch. When my own raised hand came away from my face it was red with blood.
Again we heard screams.

All around the city now voices were raised in alarm and abject terror. As I looked up again, what I saw almost made the blood freeze in my veins. The strange shadow we’d seen moved away from the archway. It flew through the air with predatory ease, its huge wings buzzing and trailing blood behind it, flowing in crimson streams from the struggling form of a Homin speared on its front extremities. Then the giant insect shook itself violently and the man dropped from its stinger, his limp form plummeting to the ground to crash into a shrub beside us.

The crash startled us from our shocked stupor. As one we began running towards the guardhouse, shouldering our way through the panic and confusion milling around us. Everyone was running somewhere or looking for someone, their panicked screams echoing through the streets. All around the city the forest seemed to move with unseen presences. The alarm bells of the guardhouse began tolling their shrill notes to summon every available man to arms, and when we arrived many of our comrades were already armed and ready to move out against our attackers. But still many more didn’t have a clue to what we were up against, and Jena, I wish we’d never known.

Over the confused din our Captain shouted orders for us to calm down and do our duty. We grabbed our pikes and ran after him, out into the streets again.

We tried to make our way to the outskirts of the city, but before we were even halfway across the town center people came running towards us. I had never seen - and never have seen again - so many terrified Homins. They were shouting and screaming something about the forest coming for them and snatching away friends, loved ones, and strangers alike. Some raved of monsters that suddenly appeared from the undergrowth and attacked whatever was in their way, others cried of flying beasts that tried to enter the upper floors of hometrees. We ran on, my lungs burning from the effort, until our squad finally reached the outskirts of town.

There everything was eerily quiet except for the buzzing that was becoming louder by the minute. No Homins were about, the smaller buildings abandoned and all hometrees and gates locked against the invaders.
The wall that was more of a glorified fence truth be told, seemed flimsy and somehow inappropriate to hold back the fear that was slowly creeping out of the dark forest into our hearts. The forest that had for so long protected and nurtured the Matis people. That in conjunction with the thick wall of woven fiber, bark and living branches had withstood anything that had tried to best it in the past.
Cautiously, we moved towards the forest’s edge. Never before had these woods seemed so dark, so malignant to me. I thought I saw movement there, between the tall trees and the lush undergrowth; something incredibly fast, scuttling about.
As we carefully approached the bushes a deep hiss emerged from them. Cautiously, against all better judgment, we took a step closer. I held my breath, my heart thumping in my ears and my throat. I heard some of my comrades do the same but still we all yelped like frightened Yubos as something burst from its hiding place.

It was fast as a falling star, its dark green carapace, speckled with light brown, glistening in the glow of the streetlights. It rushed at us with such ferocity, it took all of us by surprise. Four of its legs tapped a staccato on the hard ground as it raced towards us, front legs raised high, like vicious spears, ready to pierce us. Its flat, wide head was lowered like a shield to protect its strangely round torso. It was taller than a grown Matis, than even a grown Zoraï. It fiercely hacked and stabbed at us with its front legs. Growling and roaring horribly. Together the eight of us slashed it apart with our pikes, keeping our distance, avoiding its madly flailing legs.

As it lay twitching before us, in a growing pool of yellow blood, we gathered around it.

“What in Jena’s Name is that?”

“Damned if I know.”

“It’s a spider, see its legs?”

“A spider’s got eight legs, this one’s only got six. It’s some kind of bug.”

“It’s a really big bug.”

“Keep it together folks, we don’t know if there are any more out there,” our Squad Leader said cautiously, keeping his voice low.

“Right, we better keep our eyes open. At last they’re easy to kill…”

At that very moment the buzzing in the background again grew louder. Beyond that, the citizens' screams increased in volume as well. The frantic ringing of the guardhouse bells nearly drowned in the horrific cacophony.

A terrible, inhomin shriek pierced the darkness from beyond the limits of the city. It was answered by another and another a little to our left and right, followed by other unnatural screeching cries and deep growls.
Chattering, hissing sounds emerged from the forest all around the city.
From up above we heard the sound of breaking branches. Something big was crashing through the canopy.

Then the darkness beyond our sparse light came alive. I still only remember impressions of disturbingly thin legs and bodies dislodging themselves from trees where they had been crouching, camouflaged in the dark. All around us the forest came alive, and it was headed straight towards us.

Horrified, half of us turned and ran. Two others, our Squad Leader and I, remained behind.
We tried to keep them back.
But it was like standing against a raging river.
They flowed around and over us.
Within seconds my comrades fell beside me.
I repeatedly stabbed the body of a small, green Insect that had dug its claws into the Squad Leaders throat until it was dead and he lay beside it, unmoving. I say small, but only compared to those who kept stalking the night around us.
It was bigger than a young Mektoub.
I held a bigger one back from killing the man beside me, when another jumped into the fray from the side and dragged him away. His screams mingled with those of the dying city.”

Here the old man falters in his tale for a moment, his blue eyes fill with tears and he looks down upon his hands folded in his lap.
He remains silent for a span, then again sighs heavily and continues. His voice filled with deep sorrow.

“I freely admit it and I’m deeply ashamed of it, but after this moment, witnessing the futility of what we were doing, I ran for my life. All of us ran that night. There wasn’t a single soul that didn’t. We didn’t stand a chance. Those poor, brave souls who stayed behind to fight; they were never seen again. Most of us simply ran and never looked back, or ran right into the claws of the Kitin.

Of course back then they didn’t go by that name. Nobody had yet bothered to attach names to the different monsters. They were just there.
Nameless horrors that killed everyone and everything they got their claws on. Man, woman, child or beast of burden.
Those monsters moved through the city like reapers through a field of wheat, harvesting terror and blood. Streaming in hundreds or even thousands from the forest, dropping onto archways from the low canopy, climbing up and down hometrees or simply ripping away the bark like it was paper and crawling inside to get at the soft life hiding inside. They flew through the cold air, picking up people while in mid-flight, without even slowing, their pincers and stings sharp as swords, ripping and tearing, letting their bodies drop to join the mutilated remains of friends and family below.

I remember my first glimpse of what came to be known as a Kipesta. It swooped down from the canopy onto a group of Homins huddled beneath a great root. At first trying to reach them with the stingers at its back. Contorting itself in horrible ways to get at its prey. Then seemingly realizing the futility of this, deflating its strange secretion sack into the hollow. The small space where the people were hiding was immediately filled with searing flames. I was too far away to do anything, too surprised and appalled by this perversity against nature.
I was unable to do anything but stare.
The screams of those trapped and burning alive in that small space still haunt my dreams after all these years.

I saw the heavily armored forms of Kipukas crash through the brush outside, the wall and the city. Crushing any resistance beneath their massive legs. Trampling, piercing every living thing in their paths.
Kincher scuttled about their feet, cutting to red ribbons everything that still moved.

These weird things, shaped like mushrooms, sprayed a paralyzing mist around themselves.
Something massive, big, black and white, with glowing yellow eyes tore down the belltower of our headquarters. Burying those of my fellow watchmen that had barricaded themselves in there forever.

I’m not certain how and if I even should feel lucky that I survived. Jena knows it's more of a punishment to live with my shame.
I ran, dropped my pike and ran. Dodging other Homins and giant insects alike, fleeing headlong into the forest, running until my legs gave way and I dropped to the floor unconscious from shock and exhaustion. Days later I found another group of refugees and we made our way to a Karavan camp they had heard of.

That is my shameful tale and I will tell no more.”
{{Couillard2}}
With that the old man goes silent and sullen again. I am unable to confirm his story, though we of course have encountered the Kitin in these New Lands again.
We can only hope that these horrors will never happen again and that these lands will be spared a second swarm.

</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

The Fall Of Old Matia

2022-09-12T21:45:38Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Die Urwurzelkriege
|EN =The Prime Roots War
|FR =La Guerre des Primes Racines
|H =
|palette=primes
}}</noinclude>
[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<poem>

Introduction:
2481 was a fateful year for all of Hominkind and all people of Atys suffered deeply, but none suffered more from their own foolishness and arrogance as the Matis of old. It probably would not have mattered much, but surely many more lives could have been saved if not for the greed and paranoid thinking of old Matis nobles and military leaders.

As word got around that something was wrong in the deep desert and the imperial army completely occupied inside its own boundaries, Matis leadership only saw opportunity to settle old scores and to widen their sphere of influence. With the Fyros distracted, almost the whole of Matia’s standing army was set to march to the outer regions of Trykoth to wrestle valuable water sources from the small folk and snub their self-proclaimed protectors, the Fyros. As the great army left the deep woods, folk cheered them on and wished for them to return with glory and new land to settle. But then upon them came terror never known before and these few, long hours in the spring of 2481 became known as “The night of screaming shadows”.

{{Couillard2}}

In my unending quest for new and or old stories to tell, I recently obtained permission to talk to one of the oldest citizens of the Verdant Heights.
After I had explained my endeavor to preserve what is left of our people's history to them, his family was kind enough to grant me an hour in the presence of this remarkable Homin,
A true survivor of the first Great Swarm. Someone who survived the terrible calamity back then and up to this day. By virtue of the blessed hands of Jena herself, I am sure.

As I arrived at the family's estate at the prearranged time I am greeted by a servant in a nice but not too ostentatious livre. The lady of the house welcomes me inside a nicely decorated reception hall and after we had exchanged the obligatory pleasantries we proceed deeper inside the house. Just as we had previously discussed, during the exchange of some few letters, so that I might conduct my business and leave the estate sooner rather than later.
It seems the dubious fame their ancient relative enjoys, is more of a burden than a blessing to the family.

I am led into a small room with soft green moss on the floor, beautiful hand-woven tapestries on the walls, depicting scenes from Jenas teachings - blessed be her name - and large, open windows, through which the daystar shines and paints gently moving shadows of leaves from the trees outside on everything.
The room smells of fresh flowers and a bit of incense.
Barely masking the smell of approaching death.
The old, nay ancient, feeble man on the bed, prodded up on soft cushions turns his gaze from the window and nods at me as I approach.
An impatient and rough gesture, as if to say:
“Get on with your silly questions and then get out.”
Though In his eyes I see something strange.
Sorrow and shame.

My curiosity piqued, I introduce myself to him with my most charming smile but he again simply nods. Though a bit kinder and less hurried than before.
As I sit down and his granddaughter, the Lady of the House, who is around my own age by the way, tells him again what I intended to do, he lets out a deep sigh.
I am here to listen, I gently say him, to record his tale and keep it preserved for our people.
His chest rises and falls a few times then his eyes find the beautiful day outside again and he starts to tell his tale in a halting voice, cracking with emotion:

{{Couillard2}}

“I remember … Yes, I remember.
It isn’t even hard for me to recall those hours and moments. For they’re burned into my mind forever and the sights of this night have been etched into my eyes with the sharp blade of a master craftsman.

I was a young member of the city watch. Just a few short weeks ago I had joined up and I was hoping to be promoted into the palace guard someday and from there eventually into the royal guard. Little did I know that my promotion was never to come.

I still don’t know if I’m to be proud of my deeds that night. Thinking of what came of them later. But that’s not our point here, is it?

You want to know about the last night of the old empire, the “Night of Claws”, or “Night Of Screaming Shadows” as some like to call it oh so poetically. Well, a night of claws it definitely was, and also many, many screaming shadows … My own voice among them.

The previous day our army had left for Trykoth to officially “reclaim” some territories that would guarantee our kingdom a steady water supply in the years to come. As the rearguard vanished around the first bend of the mighty “Nobles Road”, obscured from view by the forest’s ancient trees, I longed to be with them. To reach glory and claim heroic deeds that would ensure my name a place in the records of our people. Little did I know that the fourth night after the army had left and was now far away, would bring “heroic” deeds for me to last more than one lifetime.
That day passed with our normal duties.
As did the following three days and nights.
Peaceful and quiet they were, those last days of our empire.

On the fourth evening a few comrades and I were on our way to the watch house to begin our shift from dusk until dawn. It was warm and the streets were filled with the normal hustle and bustle of the hour just before the shops would close for the night.
All of us had been speculating on how long it would take the army to return and what might be keeping the Fyros from their duty of protecting the Tryker borders for the last, endless shifts of guarding a city we were convinced was impregnable and as safe as Jenas lap.

“Maybe the little crabs haven’t paid them lately.” One of my comrades mused aloud.
Another replied:

“No, they paid alright but the Fyros are tired of constantly watching that payment. For if not, the puddle-jumpers would steal it right back from under their sand clogged noses.” We all laughed at that, except for our squad leader, an older Matis with a spotless record in the service. He looked on with a thoughtful expression.

“I heard they're fighting. - Some speak of a new great fire, others of an unknown army that is attacking the empire from its southern border. Still others speak of monsters … ” His voice trailed off.

“Monsters!” I replied laughing.

“Surely these monsters will run from the Fyros upon first sight, for no self respecting monster will hurt something more ugly than itself.”

Everyone laughed at this and I momentarily felt proud. - Silly, I know.

We walked on to the watch house unaware of the change that went through the city at first. Then one of our comrades fell behind, walking slower, his head slightly tilted to the right, as if listening to something. We stopped our banter and waited for him to catch up.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Don't you hear that?” he said.

Now we all stopped and listened. A strange, low buzzing sound could be heard above the normal conversations and sounds of the marketplace. From far off, the cracking of branches was becoming audible, as if something huge was moving through the undergrowth. Before we could wonder much longer a blood curdling scream pierced the peaceful atmosphere from above us.

We all looked up and at first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. People were running from the gentle arch of one of the walkways stretching between two hometrees. A large, dark shadow moved there with unnatural speed, flickering in the half-light of the canopy. Then something dropped over the railing, off the walkway and fell down right onto our path.

At first I thought it was a branch or part of the ornamentation of the bridge’s arch.
But when something wet splashed against my cheek, as the thing landed right at my feet with an audible thump,I realized what it was.

Dumbstruck we all stared at the severed arm that lay before us. Horrified I watched as its fingers moved in a last spastic clutch. When my own raised hand came away from my face it was red with blood.
Again we heard screams.

All around the city now voices were raised in alarm and abject terror. As I looked up again, what I saw almost made the blood freeze in my veins. The strange shadow we’d seen moved away from the archway. It flew through the air with predatory ease, its huge wings buzzing and trailing blood behind it, flowing in crimson streams from the struggling form of a Homin speared on its front extremities. Then the giant insect shook itself violently and the man dropped from its stinger, his limp form plummeting to the ground to crash into a shrub beside us.

The crash startled us from our shocked stupor. As one we began running towards the guardhouse, shouldering our way through the panic and confusion milling around us. Everyone was running somewhere or looking for someone, their panicked screams echoing through the streets. All around the city the forest seemed to move with unseen presences. The alarm bells of the guardhouse began tolling their shrill notes to summon every available man to arms, and when we arrived many of our comrades were already armed and ready to move out against our attackers. But still many more didn’t have a clue to what we were up against, and Jena, I wish we’d never known.

Over the confused din our Captain shouted orders for us to calm down and do our duty. We grabbed our pikes and ran after him, out into the streets again.

We tried to make our way to the outskirts of the city, but before we were even halfway across the town center people came running towards us. I had never seen - and never have seen again - so many terrified Homins. They were shouting and screaming something about the forest coming for them and snatching away friends, loved ones, and strangers alike. Some raved of monsters that suddenly appeared from the undergrowth and attacked whatever was in their way, others cried of flying beasts that tried to enter the upper floors of hometrees. We ran on, my lungs burning from the effort, until our squad finally reached the outskirts of town.

There everything was eerily quiet except for the buzzing that was becoming louder by the minute. No Homins were about, the smaller buildings abandoned and all hometrees and gates locked against the invaders.
The wall that was more of a glorified fence truth be told, seemed flimsy and somehow inappropriate to hold back the fear that was slowly creeping out of the dark forest into our hearts. The forest that had for so long protected and nurtured the Matis people. That in conjunction with the thick wall of woven fiber, bark and living branches had withstood anything that had tried to best it in the past.
Cautiously, we moved towards the forest’s edge. Never before had these woods seemed so dark, so malignant to me. I thought I saw movement there, between the tall trees and the lush undergrowth; something incredibly fast, scuttling about.
As we carefully approached the bushes a deep hiss emerged from them. Cautiously, against all better judgment, we took a step closer. I held my breath, my heart thumping in my ears and my throat. I heard some of my comrades do the same but still we all yelped like frightened Yubos as something burst from its hiding place.

It was fast as a falling star, its dark green carapace, speckled with light brown, glistening in the glow of the streetlights. It rushed at us with such ferocity, it took all of us by surprise. Four of its legs tapped a staccato on the hard ground as it raced towards us, front legs raised high, like vicious spears, ready to pierce us. Its flat, wide head was lowered like a shield to protect its strangely round torso. It was taller than a grown Matis, than even a grown Zoraï. It fiercely hacked and stabbed at us with its front legs. Growling and roaring horribly. Together the eight of us slashed it apart with our pikes, keeping our distance, avoiding its madly flailing legs.

As it lay twitching before us, in a growing pool of yellow blood, we gathered around it.

“What in Jena’s Name is that?”

“Damned if I know.”

“It’s a spider, see its legs?”

“A spider’s got eight legs, this one’s only got six. It’s some kind of bug.”

“It’s a really big bug.”

“Keep it together folks, we don’t know if there are any more out there,” our Squad Leader said cautiously, keeping his voice low.

“Right, we better keep our eyes open. At last they’re easy to kill…”

At that very moment the buzzing in the background again grew louder. Beyond that, the citizens' screams increased in volume as well. The frantic ringing of the guardhouse bells nearly drowned in the horrific cacophony.

A terrible, inhomin shriek pierced the darkness from beyond the limits of the city. It was answered by another and another a little to our left and right, followed by other unnatural screeching cries and deep growls.
Chattering, hissing sounds emerged from the forest all around the city.
From up above we heard the sound of breaking branches. Something big was crashing through the canopy.

Then the darkness beyond our sparse light came alive. I still only remember impressions of disturbingly thin legs and bodies dislodging themselves from trees where they had been crouching, camouflaged in the dark. All around us the forest came alive, and it was headed straight towards us.

Horrified, half of us turned and ran. Two others, our Squad Leader and I, remained behind.
We tried to keep them back.
But it was like standing against a raging river.
They flowed around and over us.
Within seconds my comrades fell beside me.
I repeatedly stabbed the body of a small, green Insect that had dug its claws into the Squad Leaders throat until it was dead and he lay beside it, unmoving. I say small, but only compared to those who kept stalking the night around us.
It was bigger than a young Mektoub.
I held a bigger one back from killing the man beside me, when another jumped into the fray from the side and dragged him away. His screams mingled with those of the dying city.”

Here the old man falters in his tale for a moment, his blue eyes fill with tears and he looks down upon his hands folded in his lap.
He remains silent for a span, then again sighs heavily and continues. His voice filled with deep sorrow.

“I freely admit it and I’m deeply ashamed of it, but after this moment, witnessing the futility of what we were doing, I ran for my life. All of us ran that night. There wasn’t a single soul that didn’t. We didn’t stand a chance. Those poor, brave souls who stayed behind to fight; they were never seen again. Most of us simply ran and never looked back, or ran right into the claws of the Kitin.

Of course back then they didn’t go by that name. Nobody had yet bothered to attach names to the different monsters. They were just there.
Nameless horrors that killed everyone and everything they got their claws on. Man, woman, child or beast of burden.
Those monsters moved through the city like reapers through a field of wheat, harvesting terror and blood. Streaming in hundreds or even thousands from the forest, dropping onto archways from the low canopy, climbing up and down hometrees or simply ripping away the bark like it was paper and crawling inside to get at the soft life hiding inside. They flew through the cold air, picking up people while in mid-flight, without even slowing, their pincers and stings sharp as swords, ripping and tearing, letting their bodies drop to join the mutilated remains of friends and family below.

I remember my first glimpse of what came to be known as a Kipesta. It swooped down from the canopy onto a group of Homins huddled beneath a great root. At first trying to reach them with the stingers at its back. Contorting itself in horrible ways to get at its prey. Then seemingly realizing the futility of this, deflating its strange secretion sack into the hollow. The small space where the people were hiding was immediately filled with searing flames. I was too far away to do anything, too surprised and appalled by this perversity against nature.
I was unable to do anything but stare.
The screams of those trapped and burning alive in that small space still haunt my dreams after all these years.

I saw the heavily armored forms of Kipukas crash through the brush outside, the wall and the city. Crushing any resistance beneath their massive legs. Trampling, piercing every living thing in their paths.
Kincher scuttled about their feet, cutting to red ribbons everything that still moved.

These weird things, shaped like mushrooms, sprayed a paralyzing mist around themselves.
Something massive, big, black and white, with glowing yellow eyes tore down the belltower of our headquarters. Burying those of my fellow watchmen that had barricaded themselves in there forever.

I’m not certain how and if I even should feel lucky that I survived. Jena knows it's more of a punishment to live with my shame.
I ran, dropped my pike and ran. Dodging other Homins and giant insects alike, fleeing headlong into the forest, running until my legs gave way and I dropped to the floor unconscious from shock and exhaustion. Days later I found another group of refugees and we made our way to a Karavan camp they had heard of.

That is my shameful tale and I will tell no more.”

{{Couillard2}}

With that the old man goes silent and sullen again. I am unable to confirm his story, though we of course have encountered the Kitin in these New Lands again.
We can only hope that these horrors will never happen again and that these lands will be spared a second swarm.

</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

The Fall Of Old Matia

2022-09-12T21:44:56Z

Acridiel: Iserted new Tale.

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE =Die Urwurzelkriege
|EN =The Prime Roots War
|FR =La Guerre des Primes Racines
|H =
|palette=primes
}}</noinclude>
[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<poem>

Introduction:
2481 was a fateful year for all of Hominkind and all people of Atys suffered deeply, but none suffered more from their own foolishness and arrogance as the Matis of old. It probably would not have mattered much, but surely many more lives could have been saved if not for the greed and paranoid thinking of old Matis nobles and military leaders.

As word got around that something was wrong in the deep desert and the imperial army completely occupied inside its own boundaries, Matis leadership only saw opportunity to settle old scores and to widen their sphere of influence. With the Fyros distracted, almost the whole of Matia’s standing army was set to march to the outer regions of Trykoth to wrestle valuable water sources from the small folk and snub their self-proclaimed protectors, the Fyros. As the great army left the deep woods, folk cheered them on and wished for them to return with glory and new land to settle. But then upon them came terror never known before and these few, long hours in the spring of 2481 became known as “The night of screaming shadows”.

{{Couillard2}}

In my unending quest for new and or old stories to tell, I recently obtained permission to talk to one of the oldest citizens of the Verdant Heights.
After I had explained my endeavor to preserve what is left of our people's history to them, his family was kind enough to grant me an hour in the presence of this remarkable Homin,
A true survivor of the first Great Swarm. Someone who survived the terrible calamity back then and up to this day. By virtue of the blessed hands of Jena herself, I am sure.

As I arrived at the family's estate at the prearranged time I am greeted by a servant in a nice but not too ostentatious livre. The lady of the house welcomes me inside a nicely decorated reception hall and after we had exchanged the obligatory pleasantries we proceed deeper inside the house. Just as we had previously discussed, during the exchange of some few letters, so that I might conduct my business and leave the estate sooner rather than later.
It seems the dubious fame their ancient relative enjoys, is more of a burden than a blessing to the family.

I am led into a small room with soft green moss on the floor, beautiful hand-woven tapestries on the walls, depicting scenes from Jenas teachings - blessed be her name - and large, open windows, through which the daystar shines and paints gently moving shadows of leaves from the trees outside on everything.
The room smells of fresh flowers and a bit of incense.
Barely masking the smell of approaching death.
The old, nay ancient, feeble man on the bed, prodded up on soft cushions turns his gaze from the window and nods at me as I approach.
An impatient and rough gesture, as if to say:
“Get on with your silly questions and then get out.”
Though In his eyes I see something strange.
Sorrow and shame.

My curiosity piqued, I introduce myself to him with my most charming smile but he again simply nods. Though a bit kinder and less hurried than before.
As I sit down and his granddaughter, the Lady of the House, who is around my own age by the way, tells him again what I intended to do, he lets out a deep sigh.
I am here to listen, I gently say him, to record his tale and keep it preserved for our people.
His chest rises and falls a few times then his eyes find the beautiful day outside again and he starts to tell his tale in a halting voice, cracking with emotion:

“I remember … Yes, I remember.
It isn’t even hard for me to recall those hours and moments. For they’re burned into my mind forever and the sights of this night have been etched into my eyes with the sharp blade of a master craftsman.

I was a young member of the city watch. Just a few short weeks ago I had joined up and I was hoping to be promoted into the palace guard someday and from there eventually into the royal guard. Little did I know that my promotion was never to come.

I still don’t know if I’m to be proud of my deeds that night. Thinking of what came of them later. But that’s not our point here, is it?

You want to know about the last night of the old empire, the “Night of Claws”, or “Night Of Screaming Shadows” as some like to call it oh so poetically. Well, a night of claws it definitely was, and also many, many screaming shadows … My own voice among them.

The previous day our army had left for Trykoth to officially “reclaim” some territories that would guarantee our kingdom a steady water supply in the years to come. As the rearguard vanished around the first bend of the mighty “Nobles Road”, obscured from view by the forest’s ancient trees, I longed to be with them. To reach glory and claim heroic deeds that would ensure my name a place in the records of our people. Little did I know that the fourth night after the army had left and was now far away, would bring “heroic” deeds for me to last more than one lifetime.
That day passed with our normal duties.
As did the following three days and nights.
Peaceful and quiet they were, those last days of our empire.

On the fourth evening a few comrades and I were on our way to the watch house to begin our shift from dusk until dawn. It was warm and the streets were filled with the normal hustle and bustle of the hour just before the shops would close for the night.
All of us had been speculating on how long it would take the army to return and what might be keeping the Fyros from their duty of protecting the Tryker borders for the last, endless shifts of guarding a city we were convinced was impregnable and as safe as Jenas lap.

“Maybe the little crabs haven’t paid them lately.” One of my comrades mused aloud.
Another replied:

“No, they paid alright but the Fyros are tired of constantly watching that payment. For if not, the puddle-jumpers would steal it right back from under their sand clogged noses.” We all laughed at that, except for our squad leader, an older Matis with a spotless record in the service. He looked on with a thoughtful expression.

“I heard they're fighting. - Some speak of a new great fire, others of an unknown army that is attacking the empire from its southern border. Still others speak of monsters … ” His voice trailed off.

“Monsters!” I replied laughing.

“Surely these monsters will run from the Fyros upon first sight, for no self respecting monster will hurt something more ugly than itself.”

Everyone laughed at this and I momentarily felt proud. - Silly, I know.

We walked on to the watch house unaware of the change that went through the city at first. Then one of our comrades fell behind, walking slower, his head slightly tilted to the right, as if listening to something. We stopped our banter and waited for him to catch up.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Don't you hear that?” he said.

Now we all stopped and listened. A strange, low buzzing sound could be heard above the normal conversations and sounds of the marketplace. From far off, the cracking of branches was becoming audible, as if something huge was moving through the undergrowth. Before we could wonder much longer a blood curdling scream pierced the peaceful atmosphere from above us.

We all looked up and at first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing. People were running from the gentle arch of one of the walkways stretching between two hometrees. A large, dark shadow moved there with unnatural speed, flickering in the half-light of the canopy. Then something dropped over the railing, off the walkway and fell down right onto our path.

At first I thought it was a branch or part of the ornamentation of the bridge’s arch.
But when something wet splashed against my cheek, as the thing landed right at my feet with an audible thump,I realized what it was.

Dumbstruck we all stared at the severed arm that lay before us. Horrified I watched as its fingers moved in a last spastic clutch. When my own raised hand came away from my face it was red with blood.
Again we heard screams.

All around the city now voices were raised in alarm and abject terror. As I looked up again, what I saw almost made the blood freeze in my veins. The strange shadow we’d seen moved away from the archway. It flew through the air with predatory ease, its huge wings buzzing and trailing blood behind it, flowing in crimson streams from the struggling form of a Homin speared on its front extremities. Then the giant insect shook itself violently and the man dropped from its stinger, his limp form plummeting to the ground to crash into a shrub beside us.

The crash startled us from our shocked stupor. As one we began running towards the guardhouse, shouldering our way through the panic and confusion milling around us. Everyone was running somewhere or looking for someone, their panicked screams echoing through the streets. All around the city the forest seemed to move with unseen presences. The alarm bells of the guardhouse began tolling their shrill notes to summon every available man to arms, and when we arrived many of our comrades were already armed and ready to move out against our attackers. But still many more didn’t have a clue to what we were up against, and Jena, I wish we’d never known.

Over the confused din our Captain shouted orders for us to calm down and do our duty. We grabbed our pikes and ran after him, out into the streets again.

We tried to make our way to the outskirts of the city, but before we were even halfway across the town center people came running towards us. I had never seen - and never have seen again - so many terrified Homins. They were shouting and screaming something about the forest coming for them and snatching away friends, loved ones, and strangers alike. Some raved of monsters that suddenly appeared from the undergrowth and attacked whatever was in their way, others cried of flying beasts that tried to enter the upper floors of hometrees. We ran on, my lungs burning from the effort, until our squad finally reached the outskirts of town.

There everything was eerily quiet except for the buzzing that was becoming louder by the minute. No Homins were about, the smaller buildings abandoned and all hometrees and gates locked against the invaders.
The wall that was more of a glorified fence truth be told, seemed flimsy and somehow inappropriate to hold back the fear that was slowly creeping out of the dark forest into our hearts. The forest that had for so long protected and nurtured the Matis people. That in conjunction with the thick wall of woven fiber, bark and living branches had withstood anything that had tried to best it in the past.
Cautiously, we moved towards the forest’s edge. Never before had these woods seemed so dark, so malignant to me. I thought I saw movement there, between the tall trees and the lush undergrowth; something incredibly fast, scuttling about.
As we carefully approached the bushes a deep hiss emerged from them. Cautiously, against all better judgment, we took a step closer. I held my breath, my heart thumping in my ears and my throat. I heard some of my comrades do the same but still we all yelped like frightened Yubos as something burst from its hiding place.

It was fast as a falling star, its dark green carapace, speckled with light brown, glistening in the glow of the streetlights. It rushed at us with such ferocity, it took all of us by surprise. Four of its legs tapped a staccato on the hard ground as it raced towards us, front legs raised high, like vicious spears, ready to pierce us. Its flat, wide head was lowered like a shield to protect its strangely round torso. It was taller than a grown Matis, than even a grown Zoraï. It fiercely hacked and stabbed at us with its front legs. Growling and roaring horribly. Together the eight of us slashed it apart with our pikes, keeping our distance, avoiding its madly flailing legs.

As it lay twitching before us, in a growing pool of yellow blood, we gathered around it.

“What in Jena’s Name is that?”

“Damned if I know.”

“It’s a spider, see its legs?”

“A spider’s got eight legs, this one’s only got six. It’s some kind of bug.”

“It’s a really big bug.”

“Keep it together folks, we don’t know if there are any more out there,” our Squad Leader said cautiously, keeping his voice low.

“Right, we better keep our eyes open. At last they’re easy to kill…”

At that very moment the buzzing in the background again grew louder. Beyond that, the citizens' screams increased in volume as well. The frantic ringing of the guardhouse bells nearly drowned in the horrific cacophony.

A terrible, inhomin shriek pierced the darkness from beyond the limits of the city. It was answered by another and another a little to our left and right, followed by other unnatural screeching cries and deep growls.
Chattering, hissing sounds emerged from the forest all around the city.
From up above we heard the sound of breaking branches. Something big was crashing through the canopy.

Then the darkness beyond our sparse light came alive. I still only remember impressions of disturbingly thin legs and bodies dislodging themselves from trees where they had been crouching, camouflaged in the dark. All around us the forest came alive, and it was headed straight towards us.

Horrified, half of us turned and ran. Two others, our Squad Leader and I, remained behind.
We tried to keep them back.
But it was like standing against a raging river.
They flowed around and over us.
Within seconds my comrades fell beside me.
I repeatedly stabbed the body of a small, green Insect that had dug its claws into the Squad Leaders throat until it was dead and he lay beside it, unmoving. I say small, but only compared to those who kept stalking the night around us.
It was bigger than a young Mektoub.
I held a bigger one back from killing the man beside me, when another jumped into the fray from the side and dragged him away. His screams mingled with those of the dying city.”

Here the old man falters in his tale for a moment, his blue eyes fill with tears and he looks down upon his hands folded in his lap.
He remains silent for a span, then again sighs heavily and continues. His voice filled with deep sorrow.

“I freely admit it and I’m deeply ashamed of it, but after this moment, witnessing the futility of what we were doing, I ran for my life. All of us ran that night. There wasn’t a single soul that didn’t. We didn’t stand a chance. Those poor, brave souls who stayed behind to fight; they were never seen again. Most of us simply ran and never looked back, or ran right into the claws of the Kitin.

Of course back then they didn’t go by that name. Nobody had yet bothered to attach names to the different monsters. They were just there.
Nameless horrors that killed everyone and everything they got their claws on. Man, woman, child or beast of burden.
Those monsters moved through the city like reapers through a field of wheat, harvesting terror and blood. Streaming in hundreds or even thousands from the forest, dropping onto archways from the low canopy, climbing up and down hometrees or simply ripping away the bark like it was paper and crawling inside to get at the soft life hiding inside. They flew through the cold air, picking up people while in mid-flight, without even slowing, their pincers and stings sharp as swords, ripping and tearing, letting their bodies drop to join the mutilated remains of friends and family below.

I remember my first glimpse of what came to be known as a Kipesta. It swooped down from the canopy onto a group of Homins huddled beneath a great root. At first trying to reach them with the stingers at its back. Contorting itself in horrible ways to get at its prey. Then seemingly realizing the futility of this, deflating its strange secretion sack into the hollow. The small space where the people were hiding was immediately filled with searing flames. I was too far away to do anything, too surprised and appalled by this perversity against nature.
I was unable to do anything but stare.
The screams of those trapped and burning alive in that small space still haunt my dreams after all these years.

I saw the heavily armored forms of Kipukas crash through the brush outside, the wall and the city. Crushing any resistance beneath their massive legs. Trampling, piercing every living thing in their paths.
Kincher scuttled about their feet, cutting to red ribbons everything that still moved.

These weird things, shaped like mushrooms, sprayed a paralyzing mist around themselves.
Something massive, big, black and white, with glowing yellow eyes tore down the belltower of our headquarters. Burying those of my fellow watchmen that had barricaded themselves in there forever.

I’m not certain how and if I even should feel lucky that I survived. Jena knows it's more of a punishment to live with my shame.
I ran, dropped my pike and ran. Dodging other Homins and giant insects alike, fleeing headlong into the forest, running until my legs gave way and I dropped to the floor unconscious from shock and exhaustion. Days later I found another group of refugees and we made our way to a Karavan camp they had heard of.

That is my shameful tale and I will tell no more.”

With that the old man goes silent and sullen again. I am unable to confirm his story, though we of course have encountered the Kitin in these New Lands again.
We can only hope that these horrors will never happen again and that these lands will be spared a second swarm.

</poem>
}}

<noinclude>
{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

User:Lylanea Vicciona

2022-09-12T21:39:08Z

Acridiel: New Tale added

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|meaning=
|title=Bard of the Four Lands
|race=[[Portal:Matis|Matis]]
|sex=Female
|nation=None
|organization=Rangers
|worship=None
|faction=[[Rangers]]
|guild= [[Guild:The Free Soul|The Free Soul]]
|rank=High Officer
|birth= Unknown
|death=Alive
|mother= Lydina
|father= Niccio
|character=Homina
}}
<noinclude>{{#babel:de|en-3|es-0|fr-0|ru-0}}</noinclude>
 
=Biography=
This is the story of Lylanea Vicciona. Humble servant to all Homins, Bard of the Four Lands, Warrior Poet and blabbermouth extraordinaire.
 
== Childhood ==
Lylanea was born with her twin sister Lynda on an island off the coast of the Old Kingdom. Her parents and other refugees had sought shelter there as the Kitin destroyed the old lands. They were not among those who were sent to the prime roots by the mystical rainbow-bridges. But maybe it was better that way. The island was peaceful and was never bothered by the Kitin. 
Early on, Lyl, as she was called, showed a talent for music and singing. Her sister was more concerned with frolicking and wrestling with boys. 
Later, it was Lyn who hung out with other young folks in town, while Lyl buried her nose in books. 
When the two of them had grown up to be young women, they asked their parents, mainly on Lynda's effort, to be allowed to accompany a group of rangers into the new lands. 
With heavy hearts the parents agreed. They were simple farmers, but they could not refuse anything to their two precious flowers. 

== First steps in the New Lands ==
 
So the sisters came to the small island which served the Matis as a reception camp. In the tiny base of Borea they took their first steps out of the safe, known world and met their first Kipees. The sisters both tried to increase their knowledge, but Lyl devoted herself to magic and Lyn continued to indulge in martial arts. 
 
When the twins finally arrived in Yrkanis, they met their first Zorai there of all places. Lyn immediately started flirting with the tall, blue-skinned, well-built homin, Lyl played the game for a moment out of pure insecurity, but was soon distracted and overwhelmed by the beauty of the city of Yrkanis, and began to explore it. 
She met some friendly homins, mainly an Matis called Waya, who helped them both to get a foothold in the newly created society and whose guild they later joined.(Anbu Force) 
Together they learned a lot and soon their first big adventure was on the horizon. A joint exploration of the Verdant Hights and an attempt to find their way into the mysterious Burning Desert, which they had heard so much about. Together with a large number of other Homins they set out and after a very strenuous journey, for the not yet very powerful Homins at that time, they reached the capital of the Fyros, Pyr. 
Lyl was deeply impressed by the architectural masterpiece of the Fyros and later spent much time in the city's bathhouse and wandered through the alleys of the metropolis. 
The other countries were also explored and the Lake-Lands reminded both of their homeland. 
They made Lynda homesick and soon the young woman decided to return home. She did not want to leave her parents alone on the farm, she needed to help and protect them. Lyl had a bad conscience, but she had learned to love the new lands and decided to stay. She began to follow the path of a priestess of Jena and initially was very loyal to the goddess. 
The farewell from her sister was tearful and hard, but in the end it was the best. 
 
[[File:Lylanea by atysartisansunited.jpg|512px|frameless|center|Lylanea in Great Yrkanis green house, picture by Altamira]]

== The times, they are a'changing ==
 
Soon after, Lyls first direct impression of the hatred that religion could stir up in Homins presented itself. She and some guild friends attended the signing of the Treaty of the Four Lands. The ceremony was dignified and beautiful, when suddenly, within a few feet of them Still Wyler, the governor of the Tryker Federation, was shot in cold blood by an apostate Zorai. 
 
Some time after that Lylanea had her first encounter with a swarm of the Kitin. Of course she had fought against the disgusting insects together with her guild-siblings before. But the sudden swarming of the beasts surprised most Homins of the Four Lands. When the separate kingdoms made the first attempt to build defenses and bases in the outer regions of their dominions, the beasts seemed to be provoked. Within a few days, the cities were surrounded by huge numbers of the giant insects and the countryside was crawling with them. A siege which the experienced Homins could hold back only with great difficulty. She herself was not yet able to contribute much to the building of the bases or to the defense of Yrkanis, but she recognized at that time that the Homins could only survive against this immense threat if they worked together. 
 
During these troubled times, her first guild fell victim to an internal disagreement and was disbanded. She joined the newly minted "Illuminati Jenae" for some time. Where she initially found good company. But after a relatively short time she left this guild again. The compulsion to have to fight friends, in order to take possession of a newly established outpost for her guild was abhorrent to her. 
 
With her cousin Nuvad and his friend Thy, who had arrived at Yrkanis City a while earlier, she founded the "Argo Navis". A small community centered around the old Matis Mystic Vessus Vega, who guided them spiritually. Lylanea never quite trusted the old man, but many others followed him devotedly. Nuvad, Pippa, Xandra, Fyl A’Reon, Eta, Thy, Taniqa, Yachalis, Tei-Jeng, Druis, Yuuzuki and later also Salazar.
Who became the last guardian of the guild house and always held the guilds name in honor. 
 
Eventually, brutal marauders began to plague the lands and after some short skirmishes and mysterious incidents around a Fyra named Mezix and Alyia Ashenstorm, the first big attack of the clans on the new lands took place. Nuvad, Thy, Salazar and Lyl were surprised by them on a winter evening at the border of the Fleeting Gardens and could only escape with great difficulty. 
 
Lylanea, who by now had become somewhat more powerful, nevertheless stayed out of that conflict as best she could, merely reporting and writing down her observations. She rarely had to defend herself or others, and she admired the Zorai Sorenal, the great general, for his ability to effectively lead the amassed guilds to victory over the invaders. 
But he too was later disappointed by the growing belligerence of the guilds and left the New Lands embittered. 
Lylanea tried to bring a traitorous Matis to justice, who collaborated with the marauders, but failed in her attempt. 
The expansion of the outpost conflicts into true wars of faith and later fierce battles for resources to build the coveted temples. The resulting obligation to fight against Homins who had become dear to her, could not be reconciled with Lyl's conscience and so her journey with the Argo Navis came to an end. 
She decided to go her own way. At that time she also got to know the Tryker Chanchey Breggan, who became a close friend. 
 

== Walking Alone ==
 
The strict, clerical path of Jenas faithful had proven to be too narrow and warlike for her. Her exuberant creativity was limited and her musical talents fell asleep. 
From then on she called herself "Anima Jenae", the voice of Jena, to sing praise songs to the goddess and to provide entertainment to the Homins. 
For a long time she managed to stay out of the conflicts of religions and peoples and roamed the Four Lands, singing and making music here and there at weddings or other occasions. In the meantime she trained her other skills from time to time, but they were never really important to her. 
She fought in the defense of Pyr against a swarm of Kitin that broke through the bark of the burning desert and faced her first swarm leaders. Thanks to the courage and steadfastness of the Homins, who fought the beasts together, victory was again won in those days. 
 
Some time later, a new, young Kitin swarm appeared in the 4 Lands, which, according to scholars, had split off from an old swarm somewhere in the vastness of Atys and was now looking for a new home. It would later settle down in the Almati Forest. 
In these days she was given the honor to fight personally against this swarm at the side of King Yrkanis. 
Back to back with the karan she looked death in the eye. They mutually preserved each other's lives and his majesty praised her after the fight, which was highly unexpected. Together with some envoys of the Karavan and many other Homins she explored the new nest and here Lyl met Rangers again, for the first time after her stay in the refugee camp of the Matis. The unrestrained will of these Homins to protect the people of Atys from the Kitin and themselves, making no distinction between Homins, no matter what race or religion they belonged to, impressed her deeply. 
 
Lyl often went alone or with friends to the Almati Forest, to talk to the rangers and explore the Kitin Nest. She strangely enjoyed risking her life to learn more about the beasts. She was quite content. 
 
As she was sitting in Fairhaven's first bar one beautiful summer day, working on a new song, a messenger from the Matis Royal Court approached her and delivered a message that would turn her life upside down. 
Lylanea had been summoned to Her Majesty's court. Karae Lea Lenardi, Queen of the Matis, raised the humble Bard to nobility. Her reputation as a Songsmith had reached the ears of the Matis Royal Court as a few weeks prior she had been allowed to enrich a royal ball with her arts. 
The Karae was very fond of her music and entrusted Lylanea with preserving the culture of the Matis ordering her to work closely with the Royal Academy. 
At first, she could hardly believe her luck and was very enthusiastic about her work. She composed hymns of praise to the warriors of the new lands, but critical, thoughtful lyrics too flowed from her pen. She wrote prayers to Jena, to whom she was still devoted, at least as Matis. Together with Salazar Caradini, her old friend from Argo Navi's days, she participated in council meetings and tried to repair the fragile relations between the peoples by diplomatic means. 
But soon she realized that this was as much an unsolvable task as capturing all the Yubos of Matia. Many other nobles and guild diplomats from other lands had only had the advantage of their respective kingdom in mind, which was equal to that of their guilds. Those guilds that called Matia their home, mostly just tried to increase their own influence on outposts and thus wealth. They stirred up war and discord between the peoples. The pact that Still Wyler had paid for with his blood was forgotten. 
Karavan and Kami were in no way superior to the Homins and committed themselves to regard each other in either indifference or clear tirades of hatred. She was especially shocked by the words of a Zorai sage, who spoke with hatred against the Karavan, the Matis and Tryker and even found few good hairs on the Fyros. Karan Yrkanis and Karae Lea of the Matis tried to get the situation under control. On their orders Lylanea, together with some other Homins, managed to smuggle the young prince Stevano secretly through the primeval roots to Pyr. Already on the way there the young prince proved to be extremely arrogant. His un-diplomatic remarks to His Highness, Emperor Dexton eventually led the countries to the brink of open warfare. 
 
Disillusioned and full of anger, Lylanea finally withdrew from the new lands. She sold and gave away all her belongings and finally joined the Rangers who were searching for more refugees on the bark. During this time she fell in love with the ranger Vencci Chiviadi and from this love arose their daughter, Tauri. 
 
A few months ago she returned to see how things are going in the countries she still loves. 
 

== The Present ==
 
[[image:The_Kiss002.jpg|thumb|right|Wixarika and Lylanea|Lylanea and Wixarika, picture by Lylanea/Acridiel]]

In the time that she had been away a lot had happened. 

 
Lyl learned that King Yrkanis had disappeared and Queen Lea had died of a broken heart some time after that. The loss of Karae Lea hurt Lylanea very much. She wrote a dirge for her beloved Queen. 
Now former Prince Stevano, together with his wife Filia Tamiela, rules over the Matis people, as Karan Stevano and Karin Tamiela. 
 
Emperor Dexton of Fyros fell victim to poisoning and his only son Lycos now rules the desert. Due to a cruel incident, the diplomatic relations between the Matis and Fyros are extremely tense. 
Lyl also came to know the some of the new members of the Matisan nobility, council and court and found that most of these Homins were as stubborn and short-sighted as their predecessors. 
 
However, she also came to know more pleasant Homins. 
The Bai Nhori Drakani, the guild "Black Dragon Guard", based in New Trykoth, became her good friends and supporters of her arts. 
After a bit of cajoling and persuading from her side, Chanchey offered her to join his guild, the "Free Soul", which she accepted with great joy. She has found more great friends there. Some old and some new. 
Recently she brought her daughter Tauri from Silan to Yrkanis and started to accompany her on her first forays into the new lands. 
 
Shortly afterwards, the lovely Fyra Wixarika of the Drakani confessed to Lylanea that she harbored deep feelings for her. At first Lyl was insecure and a bit scared, because she had been alone for so long. In addition she is quite a bit older than the Fyra. But the honest, enthusiastic, open and above all loving nature of ‘Rika finally opened her heart to the avances of the pretty and firece warrior. 
They are a couple now. Which surprises some Homins very much, which in turn doesn't bother both of them. 
Tauri accepts this, because her parents were never married anyway and her father is roaming the wilderness of Atys again to find refugees. 
Lylanea is happy, even though the new countries are still far away from a peaceful future. 
 
To be continued ... 
 

= Work in the geographical society =
[[An old archive/Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe|Investigation in the Tunnel of Woe]], a report of an expedition of Rangers following their discovery of [[An old archive|what seemed a map]] to them.
= Literature and art =
== Short poems and songs ==
=== Matia ===
 
Matia is Matia 
Spring breathes in 
Summer is a warm, tender kiss 
Autumn breathes out 
Winter is a soft, cool hand 
touching a beloved face 
Matia is Matia 
 
=== New Trykoth ===
 
Without water, there is no life. 
Without freedom, there is no life. 
Aeden Aqueus - overflows with life. 
 
Trykers share everything. 
They share their power. 
They share their courage. 
They share your possessions. 
They share the winds power. 
They share their minds willingly. 
No two Homins share an opinion on them. 
But they'll give everything for you if you're their friend. 
 

===The Witherings===
 
Light is a source of life. 
And a symbol of hope. 
Zorai is full of light. 
Even at night, light is everywhere. 
We're all just lights. 
who confront the growing darkness of despair. 
All I wish for us, the homin races. 
is to be as strong as the lights of Zoari. 
So that even in the darkness. 
Our souls may shine. 
And nothing may darken our paths. 
That our lights may remain forever. 
To guide us through the deep night. 
Zorai is full of light. 
 

===The Burning Desert===
 
Burning hot sand - beneath my feet. 
Above my head - burning hot sun. 
Burning hot air - within my lungs. 
Within my veins - burning hot sap. 
Burning hot faith - within my heart. 
I am Fyros. 
 

===Atys' Lullaby===
''A song for children and grown homins alike''. 
Where there is darkness, there is always light. 
Night now gathers around the four countries. 
At first you cannot see your hand in front of your eyes. 
But soon Mother Atys shows her power. 
Can you see her lights? 
How bright they stand over the bark. 
How they shine, like sparks from embers. 
So do not be afraid and take courage. 
Do not be afraid of the dragon. 
You will awaken in the morning. 
And when you rub the sleep from your eyes 
Atys did give you a gift. 
No matter what you do during the day, 
Her light protected you, all night long. 
 

===[[Lily of Matia]]===
A dirge for the late Karae Lea Lenardi. 
 
===[[Flame Of The Desert]]===
A song for a special someone.
 
===[[As Night Falls]]===
A Song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Rangers March]]===
Another song for the Rangers.
 
===[[Have you seen us fight]]===
A song for all Homins.
 
===[[An Ode To Your Feet]]===
 

There is an [https://app.ryzom.com/app_forum/index.php?page=topic/view/13748/1| external archive with poetry].

==Tales of War:==
These events, like so many others in my records took place a long time ago and I can not vouche for all the information therein to be absolutely accurate, but back then I kept my records diligently. 
So I hope that you will find this usefull, or at least entertaining. 

====[[The Prime Roots War]]====
Memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Surface War]]====
Other memoirs on an ancient war against kitins.

====[[The Hunt For A Ghost]]====
My experience hunting a dangerous criminal in Fyros.

====[[The short war for the Hidden Source]]====
A Record of one of the first battles against the Marauders, in New Matia.

====[[The Fall Of Old Matia]]====
A survivors tale of the last night of the old Forest-Kingom.

== Tales of the Lands==
Old stories of my travels as a young homin trougout the New Lands and some more recent works. 

====[[A Tale of the Desert]]====
A life changing encounter with one of the Fyros' Bandit gangs, a long time ago.

====[[The Sentinels Of Pyr]]====
A tale of true bravery, I once discovered in the archives of Pyr.

====[[What the light says]]====
A poem said and played during the [[Tales of Atysmas 2611 vigil]].

====[[Wayfarers' Guide to Matia]]====
A guide for travellers in the the Matis Kigdom.

====[[The Lost Alchemist]]====
A report of the search for a Fyros alchemist lost in Aeden Aqueous.

====[[Hush - Part 1]]====
A true story from long ago. A memorable trip to the prime roots with friends.

====[[Hush - Part 2]]====
The adventure continues.

= External resources =

* [https://www.ryzomarmory.com/char/Lylanea/profile Profile on Ryzom Armory]

 
 
<noinclude>[[Category:Homins]][[Category:Player Characters]] [[Category:Player Characters Rangers]] [[Category:Biographies]]
{{clear}}</noinclude>

The Hunt For A Ghost

2022-08-15T22:23:58Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|EN =The Hunt For A Ghost
|FR =La chasse au fantôme
|H =1
|palette=primes
}}</noinclude>

[[File:Arme Matis.png|right]]
{{Quotation|''[[User:Lylanea Vicciona|'''Lylanea Vicciona''']], Bard of the Four Lands''|
<poem>The ravine through which we walked was wide and deep.
Its wooden floor was littered with dry moss and lichen. Almost everywhere there were small, irregular piles from which flowers and grasses sprouted. I tried not to step into them.
Chanchey, had examined the piles a little closer and found that it was excrement of animals, which offered sustenance to the plants. Which in turn provided food for the many herbivores that roamed the canyons. This in turn attracted a not inconsiderable number of predators.
The eternal cycle in life in all its squishy perfection.

From high above our little troop, from the Thesos plain, wood dust trickled down. Fierce gusts of wind hissed through the canyons, driving the particles before them like tiny hailstones in a storm.
The ground hissed and rumbled. Now and then small fountains of steam shot up, and here and there even a perpetual little flame burned on the bark of the floor, fed by the exhalations of the smoldering sap beneath.
Did I really want to know what kind of inferno was going on down there? What had once set the Sap veins on fire in this part of the New Lands?
The flaming forest not far from here, a little further to the west, had been hit the worst. Here the fire was so close to the surface that a tribe was founded just to watch the ground in case the embers should eat their way to the surface again. Like the fire of Coriolis, which raged for 2 months and devastated vast areas, even into the forests of the Matis. Long ago, in the ancient lands. But nature had adapted wonderfully to the circumstances, in the Flaming Forest grew trees, if you want to call these partly charred things shaped like fangs so, which knew how to use the burning Sap.
They channeled it into their tops and let it flare up there. In this way they kept herbivores away from their unripe fruit. Only in winter, when it became a little cooler in the desert, they closed these veins and all at once literally burst with large leaves and big grapes on thick vines that sprouted from their trunks. An excellent wine was pressed from them. Aah, how I longed for a good sip in this heat …
[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
I pushed my thoughts away from the mysteries of the desert and refreshments to the task that lay ahead of us. Some of the us had heavily armed themselves, but some magi had also come along on this expedition.
We were to track down a wanted assassin in the deep canyons and bring her before the justice of the Empire. 
The Fyros, who practically grew up in this area and soaked up the sand with their mother's milk, as some mockingly claimed, did not mind the rough air. They perhaps blinked a little more often.
But for the few Trykers and Matis who had joined the search for the criminal Mezix, the heat quickly brought sweat to their foreheads. They cursed the wood dust that always found a way into even the best armor and scratched and chafed terribly.
The representative of the Imperial Protection Guild of the Burning Faces, whose name I had not learned, set a good pace and the homins not used to the desert had to strain to keep up with the Fyros.

But, many were interested in bringing the mysterious Fyra named Mezix to justice.
Just a few days before, her cruel goings-on had claimed a new victim. A worker who, together with a colleague, was supposed to be doing repair work on the Imperial Road in the Frahar Towers. Both fell under the spell of the beautiful Fyra, but when her beasts of war fell upon his colleague, he regained his senses and ran for his life. Completely distraught and exhausted from the long march through the desert, he made it to the village of the waterbreakers, who took care of him and finally brought him back to Pyr. There he tried to muster his courage, to tell his colleague's family of this tragedy, in the tavern. Just as some friends and I were also there, discussing the earlier events.

First, of course, he had reported to the city guards and they informed the Burning Faces, the guild officially charged with the internal security of the Empire.
So now a handful of members of this guild and as many volunteers were jogging through the deep canyons that almost divided the Burning Desert in half from east to west, looking for the criminal's camp. A few days earlier, in an obviously abandoned camp, a message had been found that spoke of the "Dragon Maw Gorge". It had been signed: ”A. Z.”. At first, no one knew who A. Z. could be.
I couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong with it, though.
It was just too - convenient - for it to be found in this otherwise empty camp. A map with a clear message to Mezix and a clear designation of this place? I suspected a trap.

However, hardly any of my companions wanted to hear about it. Especially the Fyros were sure that they would have an easy time with a few wild Gingos and their rebellious mistress.

Far from it, as it turned out later.
When our small troop reached the Dragon Maw Gorge and the wooden walls moved closer and closer together, we soon noticed that something was out of the ordinary here. 
No animals far and wide.
Not even a Cuttler was lying in wait in a bush.
And soon we saw the reason.
A veritable horde of nearly shoulder-high, brown desert Gingos cavorted in the narrow twists and turns of the gorge. Their hoarse, wheezing barks swelled into a veritable storm as the voice of a Fyra rang out from the depths of the gorge.
:''"Attack!"

Jena, how fast these beasts were!
And how tough!
The sword strokes of the Homins seemed to make the trained animals only wilder and with every drop of blood that dripped on the barren ground, their murderousness increased. Within a short time, the Magi were overrun and only the heavily armed warriors withstood the onslaught for a short time longer. They too soon fell under the vicious fangs of the shaggy beasts. The last thing I saw before blackness and pain enveloped me was a group of the great predators, returning like tame yubos to their mistress. Who stepped out of the shadows of the gorge, smiling maliciously.

Light flooded my soul and my battered body. Glowing, healing, runic bands enveloped my bleeding limbs and lifted me from the ground.
Someone must have escaped the attack and hid until the victorious criminal called her animals back.
With a booming skull and trembling hands, I pulled out my magic enhancers and put them on. The precise movements of the spell were not easy to perform in heavy armor, but it would just have to do! Within a short time, all members of the search party were back on their feet and it was decided to make another attempt to apprehend the wanted person.
This time we would be prepared for their deceit.

Slowly I crept behind some Fyros into the narrow gorge.
There was a smaller pack of the desert predators there.
One of the Fyros warriors jumped forward and waved his arms violently. His performance was a bit exaggerated, but did not miss its effect.
The animals immediately ran towards him.
Right into our waiting swords.
The noise of the battle attracted more of the animals, but the Magi covered the back of the group and kept the fighters alive with their healing magic.
So we outwitted a good two dozen of the horrible creatures.
Then, however, the tide almost turned again. With wild battle-cries, some warriors in red and yellow armor came rushing out of the gorge and into our back. The swordsmen split up and rushed back to their mages, who struggled to fend off the attackers and heal their allies at the same time.
I stayed in front and drove the dogs into the dust. Now the female voice echoed through the ravine again:
:''"Put them down!"
A perfectly planned trap.
[[File:Arme Matis- séparateur.png|300px|center]]
But, Mezix had not counted on the fighting prowess and good cooperation of her hunters. Although from different countries and guilds, many of them had already fought side by side against far worse opponents and passed. Those who could hold their own against Kitin, could also cope with such a wild bunch.
And indeed, the attacking homins were quickly defeated and we pushed further into the narrow passages of the canyon. After a few twists and turns, in which attacking Gingos met their deaths again and again, we spotted a fortified camp.

Something crashed forcefully into the wood of the canyon wall just above my head, and a rain of splinters and dust fell on me. Instinctively, I jerked back into the shelter of the wall.
"They have shooters!" roared a deep voice, just as a Magi collapsed next to him, hit.
And indeed, behind some stacked crates, I could make out figures pointing bow-rifles and pistols at us.
Surprised, I realized that they were all women, Fyra, like Mezix.
I wonder if that meant anything.
But, enough thoughts, now it was time to fight.
The ground was uneven and the walls of the canyon were full of cracks and minor overhangs, but nothing really provided cover. We pressed our bodies against the wall beyond the bend toward the main canyon. Again and again, projectiles slammed into the ground or whizzed just past our cover. Finally, we heard the voice again, which probably belonged to Mezix:
"Give up! You can't get to me anyway!"

The other homins looked at each other, and as if by some indiscernible understanding, they knew what to do. One by one, the heavily armored warriors rushed around the curve of the ravine and ran toward the camp, shouting mightily.
I ran after them.
Glowing projectiles of hardwood bounced off their armor, leaving dents and fractures, or made their way into the flesh below. But the attackers kept running!
Behind us, the magi stepped into the line of fire, now obstructed by the warriors' armor, and began their healing and wounding dances. Bubbling balls of energy raced in high arcs over the heads of the warriors and burst in showers of fire, poison and acid in the middle of the camp, or on the stacked crates
The shooters ducked as best they could.
A shimmering blue blast wave thundered just past me and tore apart a stack of crates. The Fyra, crouching behind it, was hurled through the air and crashed against the hard wall of the gorge. There she collapsed and lay still.

"Strange that they don't have healers," it flashed through my mind, but I had already reached the barricade and rushed through the hole that had just been blown. In front of me, a young Fyra stepped out of cover and pointed her smoking weapon at me. With one well-aimed blow, I struck her down. Briefly, I felt regret and said a prayer to Jena in my mind, but then the next bullet crashed into my armor. I turned around just as a sword pierced the shooter's chest from behind. The broad figure of Gladeusdeus, a member of the ruling council of the Fyros "Akenak" and quite an esteemed acquaintance, pushed forward, pushed the corpse aside and nodded curtly at me. I nodded back and both of us threw ourselves back into the fight.
After a few minutes the fight was over. Everyone was exhausted and yet we had not reached our goal.
Mezix stepped out from under the cover of a tent and a male Fyros in dirty but formerly very fine clothing appeared beside her.

"Senator Zelion?!" exclaimed some of those present. Hardly anyone who had seen the strange message had interpreted A.Z. as "Aeracus Zelion ''. Nor had anyone reckoned with the presence of this Fyros here. He had been "kidnapped" only a few weeks ago, in the middle of his trial for treason against the empire and collaboration with the marauders. However, not by the Fyra who stood before them. But by Akilia Ash Storm, the daughter of Melkiar.
Melkiar, "The Black Varinx", leader of the Marauders and one of the worst threats to the New Lands, after the Kitin. So, there was a connection between them and Mezix after all. As some homins had already suspected.

Only, what sense did it make to keep this fugitive here, wasn't she bait enough herself? After all her terrible deeds.
A surprised, "Mezix! What are all these Fyros doing here?!" escaped the clearly frightened ex-Senator as he stepped out of the shadows of the tent and found himself surrounded by members of the Burning Faces.
But the Fyra, visibly angered, ordered him to shut up. Then she turned to the representatives of the empire.

While I was still thinking and turned to the open camp to cover the back of the group, Mezix and the official were drowning in mutual insults and arrogant remarks. As it seemed to be the way of the Fyros. Then, all at once, a surprised murmur went through the crowd behind me, and when I turned around, Mezix was pressing her lips tightly on Gladeusdeus'. The much smaller Fyra held him tight and pressed her body against his.
The burly Fyros’ facial expression revealed that he was just as surprised by this behavior as all the bystanders. Even the ex-senator stammered a "W...wha... what is this?" and stared at the scene completely perplexed.
For a moment, everyone was paralyzed. But that moment was enough for the skilled warrior. She grabbed the reins of a Mektoub standing nearby and swung herself into the saddle. Then she yanked the senator up behind her by the collar, across the back of the mount and gave the animal the spurs. Upset, the heavy mount thundered through the group of homins and out into the canyon.
Immediately, many of them gave chase on foot, but in vain. The beast was too fast, even loaded with two homins, and disappeared into the maze of ravines. While the main part of the troop ran to the exit of the ravine, I stayed behind and once again examined the camp and the bodies of the dead homins.
Strangely, the soldiers who had attacked us all wore red armor, with yellow ornaments. Almost like those of the city guards of Pyr. However, with an emblem on it that I did not recognize.
A strange glyph, which I did not know how to interpret. The hominas who had defended the camp itself, however, wore sand-colored armor, without any markings. Also, they all had nothing with them except some rations. In the boxes of the camp were food supplies for several months and the tents were only sparsely furnished.
This seemed to be just some sort of transitional camp. Where were these Fyros going and who exactly were they?
Marauders? Or a new group split off from them?
I had also noticed that the Fyra named Mezix bore a striking resemblance to Akilia Ashenstorm. I had already met her.
Were they related? Siblings, perhaps?
Questions upon questions. And only one was answered the next day after I returned to Yrkanis from Pyr.
Council member Zeron sent me a runner boy who breathlessly handed over a message. From which I gleaned that news had come from the desert empire.

The Akenak had ordered its troops to march into the region of the Hidden Source. However, this was not an attack on the sovereignty of the Matisian kingdom, but only a measure to finally get hold of the Fyra named Mezix, who had been sighted in this long-disputed area of the "Matis Desert", as it was also called. It was hoped that an even larger contingent of troops would be able to deal with her. I did not know how to react to this. Politics had always been foreign to me, as a bard I had only ever declared my faith in my people and Jena by song and poetry. Now I was supposed to help decide how to react to an invasion of the Empire's troops into Matisian territory.
"Jena, guide me across this unknown path." I prayed for the help of the goddess and sent the messenger boy back to Lord Zeron with words of thanks and a request for some time to think it over.</poem>
}}

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{{Portal|Literature}}
[[Category:Tales of War]]
</noinclude>

Chapter I·V - The Seed of Doubt

2022-07-15T17:34:14Z

Acridiel: Proofread and corrected some grammatical errors, typos and weird translations that caused some sentences to be hard to read.

{{NavChap|[[Chapter IV - Sylvan Exile]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter VI - The Awakening]]}}
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<center><big><big><big><big>'''V - The Seed of Doubt'''</big></big></big></big></center> 

<center><big><big>'''Jena Year 2474'''</big></big></center>
{{Quotation|''Belenor Nebius, narrator'' • ''Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator''|

Pü was finally free. Free to go home to his loved ones. Unfortunately, the fight had not left him unharmed, and a resurgence of pain shattered these positive thoughts. The young Zorai sat up and examined himself: his legs and pelvis were blistered, his skin was superficially slashed in many places, and a third of his right hand had been severed, deprived of a part of his little finger and of his ring finger. It was while looking at his mutilations that he realized that his fire spell had completely cauterized his stump. In addition, four of his ribs were broken. But in the end, all things considered, he was doing pretty well. And above all, his present pain was nothing compared to what he had experienced a few months ago, during the growth of his mask.

:''"'Ma-Duk offers us the ultimate pain so that no pain in the world can ever reach his soldiers.'"

As he struggled to his feet, he heard a voice. Pü reflexively tried to draw his absent weapons and got into a fighting stance, looking around for his new opponent. No one. The voice became clearer: Matéis. Pü understood that it came from the general, and that this one had thus survived. This did not surprise him much, however: he had aimed at the motor area of the Matis's brain, not to kill him, but to damage his motor system and thus prevent him from extracting the blade that prevented regeneration. Taking the life of a homin was difficult. And when it was impossible to kill his opponent with one blow, it then became essential to try to reach his regenerative abilities. So, if the Matis had survived, he was unable to regenerate his brain, and was therefore doomed to death. Nevertheless, Pü cautiously moved towards him. For this homin was by far the toughest opponent he had ever faced, except perhaps his uncle and father. As he passed into his field of vision, '''the Matis, who was looking at the daylight, the dagger still stuck in his skull, put the gaze on him'''. Blood ran down his face. He articulated with difficulty.
[[file:The Matis.png|right|400px|alt=… the Matis, who was looking at the daylight…|the Matis, who was looking at the daylight]]
:''"My boy, your last stunt was impressive,"'' he said, coughing. ''"I have never fought an opponent as agile as you."

Pü weighed him coldly without answering. He was congratulating him? He would definitely not forget this opponent anytime soon.

:''"Ah, by the way… Forgive me about what I said about your mother and your people. If I cannot condone your customs, I did not mean my insults. Zorais are not savages, just as Trykers are not slaves. And if you are indeed indoctrinated, so are we. I simply wanted to provoke you… which worked out rather well."

Pü couldn't believe it. He had single-handedly decimated half of his squad and would soon kill him. And yet, the general regretted his words and apologized.

:''"My boy, my seconds are short. Before I go, I would like you to grant two of my requests. You have won this duel, you are not compelled to accept. However, I ask you to listen to your heart."

Although his mother had told him about the code of honor of Matia officers, this was the first time Pü had observed its application. None of Matia's soldiers he had faced before had ever behaved in this way. The Zorai relaxed and knelt before the Matis.

:''"Tell me, I'm listening."

:''"Firstly, I would like you to spare and secure Sivaldo, the gunner you knocked out. He is a brave soldier, like many others, and he is also my nephew. But most of all, his soul is particularly beautiful. For too many decades the Matis have spread hate, and suffered it in return. Our people need boys like him. Earlier, you offered me to run away, leaving him to you. If you need one life only, you've already got mine."

:''"I accept,"'' said Pü, who would have spared the soldier anyway.

:''"Thank you very much,"'' said the general, smiling faintly. ''"Finally, I would like you to let me sing for my wife and daughter. They are what I hold dearest in Matia. They have since forever been my reason to fight. It is for them above all that I train soldiers and protect the Kingdom."

Tears began to flow and mingle with the blood as he stared back at the day star.

:''"If you accept, I will be a fulfilled homin. Died in a magnificent fight under Jena's gaze, in honour of the hominas in my life."

Pü looked discreetly in the direction of where he had caught sight of the Kami. It was no longer there. Deep down, he knew it was wrong to let an enemy utter a pagan chant. But by mentioning his wife and daughter, the general had touched him. How could he not grant his last request? Pü knelt down beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

:''"I am listening to you."

:''"I knew you would accept,"'' sighed the Matis before clearing his throat. ''"Close your eyes, let your mind go, and hear the song of the Forest. I am going to accompany it with my voice."

Losing all notion of caution, Pü obeyed him. It was true that in many ways the forests of Matia were full of wonders, which once the eyes were closed, were expressed as much in its fragrant scents as in the soothing rustle of its trees. The silence fell. The general waited for the wind to rise and began his song.
<poem>
''The Mother, I prayed to and fought for Her,
''Who as a child lulled me with sweet litanies.
''But at the hour of death, my little one and my dear one,
''To your sweetness I have returned.

''The Karan I served, and I stood up for him
''Who early rewarded my thirst for the best.
''But it is you, wife and daughter forever in my heart,
''Who unsparingly gave me the best.

''The Karavan I feared, and on their behalf acted,
''So much power did their black machines display.
''But it is fear of losing you that makes me despair,
''In the last hour that sees life flee from the body.

''The Forest I loved, and for Matia often,
''Left the artifices of a stiff Court.
''But if by some miracle another day were given me,
''It is with you both that I would spend my time.

''May Jena forgive me and her clerics curse me,
''May [[Aniro III|Aniro]] disown me and flatterers rejoice,
''May Atys swallow me up and forget me forever,
''I die full of you, my child, my sweet.
</poem>
Pü opened his eyes again, totally disoriented. His mask was streaming with tears and his heart was racing. He was dizzy and choked noisily. What was happening to him? Was he compensating for all the tension he had built up over those last few weeks? Partly, but not only. That song had completely upset him. It echoed so many things in him: his love for Ma-Duk, which although sincere, would never surpass the love he felt for his brother and especially for his mother; the extreme loyalty he showed to his tribe, whose customs he yet silently cursed; the fear of disappointing his father, whom he knew could deny him; and finally, the fear he felt towards the Kamis, who deprived their followers of freedom under the guise of grand designs. This stranger was in truth so little different from him. He was his mirror, and he had just taken his life. Pü clenched his trembling fists and tried to regulate his breathing. One night his mother had told him about a psychosomatic illness that could cause such symptoms in those who exposed themselves to powerful works of art. This song was one of them. It would scar him for life, he knew. Noticing his agitation, the general called out to him. His diction was getting slower and slower.

:''"Get a grip, boy, you have to learn to deal with your emotions. You are heading down so dark a road, one that you have been forced to take, and one that will bring you many difficulties."

For the first time since the beginning of the discussion, the Matis gave him a grave look.

:''"I have seen you fight, I have seen the way you do it and how you hold yourself doing it. You may well be an exceptional fighter, but you hate to kill. You are not one of those who get drunk on the blood of their victims. Every time you take a life, it is as if you were killing yourself. You are young, you can still take your destiny in hand and journey towards a happier tomorrow."

If only he knew, thought Pü, recalling Grandmother Bä-Bä's predictions.

:''"Come on…. I've made this moment too long…. It's time for me to join my ancestors,"'' he stammered, slumping onto the Zorai.

:''"Wait, tell me your name! And those of your daughter and your wife!"

:''"I am Sirgio di Rolo…. My wife's name is Virinia…. And our beautiful little girl… Trini…."

Pü held the general's shoulders, and laid him on the ground. He was dead. He closed his eyes and gently dislodged the murderous dagger.

:''"Sirgio di Rolo, I promise you to pray every morning for the coming year for the salvation of your daughter. I also commit to bind my soul to yours during my Return Ceremony. I hope you will give me the strength to pursue my destiny."

With these words, the child opened the small satchel that hung on his left thigh. It contained two thin, long instruments which he carefully retrieved. The first was a stem of [[taleng]], twenty centimeters long and one centimeter in diameter, one end of which had been cut to a point. The Taleng, characterized by its green stems formed by a fast-growing, lignified hollow thatch, was found in abundance in the Jungle. The Zorais commonly used it as a material for crafting utensils. The second tool, also made from taleng, was a set of thin, long pliers. Pü stepped over the general's chest and lifted the dead man’s head with his left hand. With his nigh amputated hand, he laboriously pushed the rod into the Matis's right nostril until he could no longer advance it. Then, with a well-aimed palm strike, he perforated his skull. Blood began to flow around and inside the rigid rod, and the child closed his eyes. Although he knew roughly its location, if he wanted to detect his target accurately, he had to silence his other senses. It took him only a few seconds then to discern the imperceptible echo pulsing from within the Matis' skull, reverberating subtly in the surrounding spirit particles. '''Meditative, Pü gradually pushed the tube into the Matis' brain'''. Finally, as the Taleng rod reached its destination, he opened his eyes again. Letting the general's head rest on the ground, he took up the thin pliers with his able hand and slipped them into the nasal tube. Although he had to concentrate again to make sure he didn't overshoot his target, a pulsation that was much more prominent than the others confirmed his success. Carefully, he pulled the pliers back and a small, surprisingly firm piece of flesh emerged from the tube, clamped between the prongs. Pü looked at the cocoon of flesh to make sure it wasn't damaged. Inside it was the seed of life, said to be the seat of the human soul. The soul of Sirgio di Rolo. Pü had already been able to observe this fragile treasure, which really looked like a small grayish seed, only slightly longer than a few millimeters. Sirgio di Rolo was well and truly dead, yet he could still make out the echo of his seed of life. Pü had wondered a lot about this echo during his exile. He had even wondered if it could be a signal. A signal from the soul. But a signal to whom? To Ma-Duk, inevitably.
[[file:Meditative.png|right|400px|alt=… Meditative, Pü gradually pushed…|Meditative, Pü gradually pushed]]
Javings taking off from the underbrush startled the child who instantly came to his senses. Opening one of the small pockets on his belt, he delicately placed his macabre trophy in it. He then repeated the operation on the other three corpses, taking care to place the pieces of flesh in separate pockets. Lastly, he moved on to Sivaldo, the unconscious artilleryman whom the general had asked him to spare. Like the other soldiers, he must have been about his brother's age. No doubt this Matis was probably considered by his people to be a model of beauty. He was tall and well-built, with long, bright blond braided hair. The harmonious features of his face seemed to have been drawn by hand, and when Pü lifted his eyelids to check his condition, he discovered irises refracting the light like crystal . Unfortunately for the Matis, a long, deep gash now ran across his face. Even if the Zorai would be able to close the wound, he would not be able to completely erase the mark caused by the impact of the shield. He was indeed too weak, and had to conserve enough energy to heal his own wounds.

Once the Matis was treated, he walked to the bush where he had hidden his cubic basket. Pü gently extracted it out of the leaves and placed it on the ground. Satisfied with the location, he cautiously opened the lid, as if it sheltered a treasure. The basket contained an amber cube perfectly embedded in the wicker receptacle, which itself seemed to contain several dozen shapes. He meticulously retrieved one of the pieces of flesh that he had stored in the pockets of his belt, and placed it on the only visible face of the cube. He then had only to imprint his will on the Sap that irrigated it, while pronouncing the famous Stance of Daïsha, so that the bloody mass sinks into the amber altered by the enchantment and freezes there. The use of amber cubes as a storage system had been invented, more than a century earlier, by the famous Hari Daïsha. Now widespread in the Jungle, it was used to preserve objects, but also to store knowledge, magically. Pü repeated the procedure hree times and took care to finish with the general's fragment. He carved the amber over the position of the latter so that he could easily distinguish it from the other pieces of flesh. When he closed the lid of the basket, he let out a sincere sigh of relief. For the first time in weeks, his next day would not be soiled with blood. After that, he patiently watched over the body of the survivor while waiting for reinforcements to arrive. He took advantage of this moment of respite to rest and dress his wounds. Although he repaired his broken ribs and closed his wounds, he gave up trying to regenerate his missing fingers: the mutilation left in evidence ensured him that this day would remain forever engraved in his memory. And when he heard the tumult of the Matis riders echoing in the distance, he disappeared into the darkness of the centuries old trees.
{{Couillard}}
The journey back home took several weeks, but it was smooth. Pü left the endless forests of the Kingdom of Matia and headed south, passing through the Zachini Scars, those dangerous and immense chasms that separated the forested highlands from the lush wet plains, and finally reached the Jungle, his homeland. He had no trouble crossing the Great Wall, which isolated the Zorai Theocracy from the rest of the world, and dodging the border guards, who seemed to rely a little too much on the gigantism of the wall. True, the Bulwark was imposing. But, having climbed it several times, the young homin had a good idea of its condition: unfortunately, the lack of maintenance was seriously felt in some places. One day, enemies of the Zorai Theocracy would topple the wall before Min-Cho or the Council of Elders would know. The child hoped that when the time came, the Zorais would be ready to face the invaders. During his entire return journey, Pü had been plagued by conflicting feelings. Ever since he had been forced to leave his village, his desire to return there as soon as possible had never left him. But if he had hoped to resume a normal life once he returned, he now could not help remembering the last words of Sirgio di Rolo:

:"You are young, you can still take your destiny in hand and journey towards a happier tomorrow."

Was he really able to regain control of his destiny? Could he stand up to the violent customs of his tribe? Would he be able to prevent his brother from leading the bloody conquest that was destined for him? So many questions that had tormented him since his leaving the Kingdom of Matia.

The amber star almost disappearing behind the north-western horizon heralded the dawn when Pü finally reached his destination. It had been many days now since he had passed the Ti-ain River and the Zoran capital, to continue south through the thick jungle. The second star, the day star, was just beginning to recover its brilliance, and swept its faint rays across the panorama that lay before him.
The child was taken aback by the sight. After living for several months in the heart of bewitching multicolored forests, he had forgotten the coldness of his world. At the top of the hill, the gigantic dead stump that housed his village stood eerily on the bark covered with stunted and blackened vegetation. The ancestors said that the stump was once the most imposing tree in the land, and that it contained exceptionally rare raw materials. Of course, the Karavan had tried to seize them, and the Kamis had violently opposed it. In a desperate assault, the Karavan agents had deployed a fire-breathing infernal machine. But not just any fire. It was a much more voracious and tenacious fire than usual, which had ravaged a good part of the region before tearing through the ground and continuing its course into the Prime Roots. It is said that even today the fire is still working silently in the depths of the Bark.

The child climbed the hill towards the disturbing tear that served as an entrance. No sooner had the guards recognized him than they bowed deferentially. Pü entered the stump and zipped without missing a beat to Grandmother Bä-Bä's hut. He moved by habit in the tortuous alleys of this strange multi-storey village, and instinctively dodged the roots that intertwined under his feet. The disappointment born from the comparison of the grayish landscape with the hearty forests of Matia had been quickly forgotten, leaving room for memories. He was born here. During his run, he came across several Zorais, who, once their surprise was over, all inclined their heads in a sign of respect. Pü returned their greetings, but avoided talking to them. In any case, he knew that all would soon know of his return. When he got within a stone's throw of Grandmother Bä-Bä's house, his nose pricked up and he saw purple fumes coming from the hut, a sign that the village oldest homina was preparing a concoction. He pushed open the first curtains, and before he had even fully entered the dwelling, the old homina called out to him:

:''"I was waiting for you my child, put the amber cube on the altar."

Pü passed the last cloth and saw Grandmother Bä-Bä, standing on a stool and bent in half over a large stockpot. Seeing her like that, crumpled, skeletal and twisted, Pü wondered at what age death became tired of waiting, and gave up trying to intervene. He walked to the altar and put down his basket. The ancestor was stirring a strange smelling mixture with a large wooden spoon.

:''"I'm just finishing concocting the drink for your Return Ceremony. Now go find your mother. She misses you terribly."

Pü obeyed and headed for the exit. However, he couldn't resist asking her a question.

"Grandmother, how did you know I was arriving?

Grandmother Bä-Bä clicked her tongue and Pü tensed up instantly. When he was younger, this characteristic sound was often accompanied by a cane stroke. The child's fingers hurt just thinking about it. With a sound, she had just reminded him that she was still the highest authority in the village, and that he should not disobey her.

:''"Go, I tell you! And if you want an advice, avoid mentioning precisely how the last encounter you made in the Kingdom of Matia ended, and the doubts you're facing since. The village might not appreciate it, and especially not your father."

Pü pushed aside the curtains that obscured the entrance like an automaton, disturbed both by the accuracy of Grandmother Bä-Bä's knowledge and by the idea that his father might learn the truth about the episode mentioned. However, the reason she had warned him was that she did not intend to reveal it to the Black Mask. Was she on his side? Pü didn't have time to worry any longer. No sooner had he stepped outside than he realized that half the village, including his family, was waiting for him outside the hut.
[[file:His father.png|right|400px|alt=… His father congratulated him…|His father congratulated him]]
The reunion went as he had imagined. '''His father congratulated him only briefly, but his gaze was filled with pride'''. His brother slapped him hard on the shoulder to show his affection, and then asked him how many victims he had made. For the future Black Mask, that was what mattered most. He was disappointed to learn that his cadet had only been satisfied with the hundred and fifty-one asked, while he himself had made almost twice that number in his time. As for his mother, she collapsed in his arms. Or Pü collapsed into hers. He had to make a considerable effort not to burst into tears in front of the crowd, and had to wait until he was face-to-face with her to let go completely. If his mother comforted him for a long time by covering him with caresses and soft words, she reprimanded him when she realized that he had voluntarily omitted to regenerate his cut fingers. Looï was a great healer, but once a certain period of scarring had passed, some wounds became permanent.

The very evening, the Return Ceremony took place. The entire tribe gathered in the Ceremonial Square where a drink was distributed to each villager, newborns included. It contained an alcoholic mixture of sap in which a cocoon of flesh had been dissolved. The Zorais placed in concentric circles and waited for Grandmother Bä-Bä to arrive, accompanied as always by Pü's mother. Although accustomed to the various rituals that often took place within the community, all held their breath when she raised her arm. The lights of the dwellings overlooking the square flew into her closed palm, and a small sphere of light emerged when she opened her hand. The star flew up to the totem pole and flared, before entering the mouth of a mask. The orifices of the other faces then lit up instantly. The old lady let go of Looï's arm, which had been her support until then, and recovered the bowl she was holding out to her with a trembling movement. She stepped forward to the totem pole.

:''"My sons, my daughters, we are gathered tonight to celebrate the return of Pü Fu-tao to us!"'' the old homina shouted in a strangely amplified voice. ''"The young boy has returned stronger from his exile in pagan lands, and in possession of the one hundred and fifty-one requested seeds of life! The Great Progenitor salutes his effort. But that is not all! Ma-Duk also entrusted me with something. We are now certain that the Sacred War will begin soon, and that it will be led by our children! Within a few years, we will set out. Guided by the Sacred Warrior, we will march across the world, hunting down the minions of the Karavan relentlessly!"

Pü stared at the beverage filling his bowl, as if mesmerized. The color of the liquid oscillated between purple and black, and small particles of reddish flesh floated on the surface. And then the grayish seed of Sirgio di Rolo emerged. So Ma-Duk had spoken to Grandmother Bä-Bä to tell her that the Sacred War would soon take place? Pü shuddered. He who had spent his return trip dreaming of another future, had just been coldly caught up in reality.

:''"Now drink the offering of Pü!"'' resumed Looï. ''"Feed on the essence of the Karavan's minions! They will give you the strength to accomplish the divine calling in which we must all participate before long! And if the Great Progenitor wills it, they will then be absolved of their sins!"

The Zorais drank the viscous liquid in one gulp and the parents took care of the youngests' dose. Pü swallowed the horrible mixture without reluctance, still lost in his thoughts. As his people began to sing in chorus the first liturgical songs of the evening, Pü looked sadly at the one he had just found, and might lose again in a few years. He hummed another tune.
<poem>
''May Jena forgive me and his clerics curse me,
''May [[Aniro III|Aniro]] disown me and flatterers rejoice,
''May Atys swallow me up and forget me forever,
''I die full of you, my child, my friend.
</poem>
A few more years of enjoying his presence. Then there would be only war, pain, blood and death. The death of others, his own, but maybe also his mother's. Whatever happened, Ma-Duk had to know: he would fight this battle for her first and foremost. Her life was more important than all the Kamis combined. And, much as Sirgio di Rolo, his last words would be dedicated to her.

}}
{{NavChap|[[Chapter IV - Sylvan Exile]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter VI - The Awakening]]}}
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[[Category:The Sacred War]]

Chapter I·IV - Sylvan Exile

2022-07-15T17:30:16Z

Acridiel: Proofread and corrected some grammatical errors, typos and weird translations that caused some sentences to be hard to read.

{{NavChap|[[Chapter III - Dying to Be Reborn]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter V - The Seed of Doubt]]}}
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<center><big><big><big><big>'''IV - Sylvan Exile'''</big></big></big></big></center> 

<center><big><big>'''Jena Year 2474'''</big></big></center>
{{Quotation|''Belenor Nebius, narrator'' • ''Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator''|
[[file:Pu unrolled.png|right|400px|alt=… Pü was silently unrolling…|Pü was silently unrolling]]
Perched on a high branch of a large sylvan tree, '''Pü was silently unrolling his daily prayer'''. Above him, even closer, far above the jungle, in its zenith, the day star was about to reach its full brilliance, and despite the thick leafy layer that separated him from the sky, its light managed to warm the young Zoraï's bluish skin. He had learned to ignore Jena's astral imprint however, striving to remember the cold echoes of the abyssal pits that dotted his village beneath the bark, Which allowed Ma-Duk to watch over him and his family from the heart of Atys. In any case, he had no choice: the heights were by far the most suitable place for meditation. On the ground, predators and patrolling soldiers were a constant disturbance, threatening his peace and preventing him from engaging in peaceful activities.

Thousands of miles away, his tribesmen were probably also finishing their prayers. Despite the distance and loneliness, Pü had tried to keep the same rhythm as before he left.
At the first light of dawn, the village would awake and prepared for the routine work necessary for the smooth running of the community: maintenance, crafts, hunting, cooking, various meetings, welcoming the few emissaries and traders, etc. The goal was to make a complete and accurate assessment of the situation and then to complete as many tasks as possible before the start of the long morning litany. The ceremony would be led by Looï, Pü‘s mother and would end with a collective meal in the heart of the refectory, a meal in which the whole tribe participated. After lunch, the Zoraïs would train in the arts of combat for several hours. The teachings, intended for all, without distinction of age or gender, were very varied: hand-to-hand melee weapons, shooting weapons, magic. Indeed, the tribe was above all a clan of warriors, who sooner or later would participate in the advent of the Sacred War. Once the training was over, the families would gather for a meal again and engage in various personal activities before going to bed. Pü had always attended evening classes with his mother, who taught him homin history, international relations, mastery of other languages and science. From time to time, he was accompanied by his older brother Niï. But most of the time, Niï took other private classes with their father, the Black Mask.

The child was jolted out of his memories by a loud sound breaking the harmony of the trees' song. Above the treetops, the muffled roar of a Karavan flying machine shook the air and frightened away the javings. Strange creatures with jagged, greenish wings, whose long, black, shiny, barbed tongue was used to pierce their prey. Quickly rising to his feet, Pü checked the strength of his lifeline and began to climb the last few meters of the large trunk that separated him from unobstructed daylight. As his frail body pulled itself out of the ocean of leaves, he was forced to squint behind his mask, so blinding was the daylight. Not far from him, the infernal machine was losing altitude. The strange black matter that composed its hull reflected the bright astral glow of Jena, as if to taunt him. Despite this, Pü was able to identify the device. It was one of those small transporters that the Karavan usually used to harvest the resources gathered by its human slaves. Strangely, it seemed to come straight from one of the immense celestial roots that made up the [[Canopy]], that as yet unexplored part of the Bark. The word by which its inhabitants commonly referred to Atys, their world of living wood, composed solely of ever-growing plant matter. Its opulent valleys and lush hills were formed by colossal roots, on which the homins had established their civilizations. The water that filled the deep root cracks gave life to its lakes, lagoons and oceans. The most inclined roots formed its mountains and extended towards the sky in a slow and inexorable rise. Certain thermal anomalies even caused the drying and slow burning of the root mat, giving rise to deserts. And deeper under the Bark were the Prime Roots, the most mysterious ecosystem of Atys after the one that was supposed to exist in the Canopy. They formed an immense labyrinth made of verdant and humid caverns, plunging into the bowels of the plant world right down to its Heart.

Pü watched the Karavan machine dive at full speed. It was a safe bet that, as usual, a rendezvous point had been agreed upon between the Karavan and its minions, and that a convoy was on its way to deliver tribute. The young Zorai felt his heart racing. Four. He was only four short. Four, and he could finally go home to get back to his loved ones. This was the perfect opportunity. He had to intercept the convoy before it reached the Karavan agents. Pü escaped from the naked day by dropping a few feet, and landed on the branch on which he had left his belongings. He gathered them up and packed them hastily, except for a cubic wicker basket, which he handled with care. This basket contained the fruit of many months of effort. He would never forgive himself for losing it or threatening its integrity. Sure he had not forgotten anything, he checked his harness one last time and dived. Pü sank into the green abyss at a rapid pace, moving deftly between the branches, and unhooking his lifeline from the pins he had planted during his ascent with an expert hand. He crossed for long seconds the multicolored strata of this continental forest of a thousand seasons, and ended up landing with grace on its leafy ground. Given the direction taken by the flying machine, it would probably land in a clearing located further north.

With convoys most often departing from Matia, the capital of the eponymous kingdom, it was a safe bet that the one hoped-for would take the wide, homin-made trail that cut through the forest to the west. Pü was both impressed and terrified by the powers of the botanists of the Matis people. He had seen with his own eyes the colossal root wall of Matia and the immense tree-clad complexes that stretched as far as the eye could see beyond the enclosure, and had been overwhelmed by such excess. But by doing so, and by trying to bend nature to their will, the Matis people were trying to upset the design of the Kamis, and by extension, that of Ma-Duk. The Great Progenitor watches behind every piece of matter in Atys. Altering nature is tantamount to travesty of his Great Work. Of course, like the mastery of magnetism and writing to the Zorais, the secrets of manipulating living matter, and in particular that of plants, had been transmitted to the Matis by the Karavan.

During his long months of exile to the Kingdom of Matia, Pü had come to understand how attractive the pagan customs of the Karavan indoctrinated peoples could be. He had been ashamed of these thoughts. But it had also given him a better understanding of the whole dangerousness of these demons from the heavens. The young Zorai wasted no time. Slipping and jumping over the roots and outgrowths of the sylvan, he covered the last few miles separating him from the path in no time. The few gingos who tried to pursue him during his crossing had no choice but to give up, so deftly did he maneuver in the dense tangle of these woods free of all matisse oppression. Arriving at the edge of the path, he hid behind a wide shrub, watching for the arrival of the convoy. Just as he was preparing to give up and to look elsewhere for any trace of the Matis, he heard in the distance the regular noise of hoofs.

Pü swallowed. His heart rate was slowly starting to pick up. Never. Never would he get used to this sensation. His brother had however assured him that he would get a kick out of his first time and that the sensations he would feel would mark him for life. On the one hand, his brother had not been entirely wrong.

A young Zorai, who had been exiled as soon as he was eleven years old, his small hands covered in blood, kneeling alone in front of the still warm corpse of his first victim.

This image had haunted Pü for long weeks, day and night, threatening to make him lose his mind. But this coming last ordeal also announced the end of his painful exile. Soon, he would be back in his country, in his stump, and could hug his mother again. This cheerful thought comforted him and helped him regain his senses. The convoy was now emerging over a low rise in the path. It was soon within observation range. In its center a sturdy, heavily laden cart was pulled by two [[mektoub]]s, placid pachyderms with nimble feet and over two meters in height, brown fur with gray stripes, but most recognizable by their long, powerful trunks and earless heads. It was driven by a Tryker, like many of those that Pü had so far come across. Indeed, it was not uncommon to find Trykers far to the east of their floating cities, doing thankless and poorly paid work in Matis land. Their curiosity and love of freedom made them excellent explorers and inventors, but their small size, childlike appearance and, above all, their peaceful and good-natured character had unfortunately led them to be enslaved by the Matis on several occasions over the past centuries. And, as Pü had learned from his mother's lessons, it was during the epilogue of the "War of the Aqueduct", only forty years before, that the Trykers had last suffered such slavery.

In 2435, intrigued by the discovery, to the west of their desert, of ruins buried under the bark, Fyros miners struck a vein of acid that set the entire region around the imperial city of Coriolis ablaze. The fire, which lasted several weeks, spread to the border of the Kingdom and cut the gigantic aqueduct the Matis despised. The aqueduct which linked the Desert to the Lakes region run by the Trykoth Federation, the ally of the Fyros Empire. Then the war in which the alliance and the Kingdom had been bogged down for almost a century and a half took a new turn. For the Emperor was forced to withdraw his troops from the Lakes, sending hem to fight the fire that threatened his people and deprived them of water. Thereupon, taking advantage of the opportunity, the Matis army invaded the Lakes region, enslaved the Tryker people and took back the city of Karavia, which the Empire had stolen from them almost a century earlier. Karavia; the 'Holy City', reputedly built on the very spot where Zachini, on the coast of the Kingdom he later founded, had first met the Karavan and the goddess Jena. Karavia; the 'Unholy City', for Pü and his tribe, the most evil place to be found on the Bark… It was within its walls, however, that the treaty was signed the following year, which put an end to the War of the Aqueduct and freed the Trykers from the Matis yoke. But this last episode had left definite traces in the unconscious of the people of the lakes, and many Trykers had remained in the Forest as servants… like the driver of the cart, obviously dedicated to the service of the dozing Matis on the bench beside him.

Pü, at the sight of the latter, immediately identified the man as a cleric of the Church of the Light, a so-called ”Herena”. The Matis was indeed dressed in his ecclesiastical garments: a white amber crown and a long toga consisting of several large capes made of coloured feathers and decorated with braids of amber jewellery. The Church of Light, founded around the cult of Jena and placed under the aegis of the Karavan, was today all-powerful in the Kingdom of Matia, and particularly in the precincts of Karavia, retroceded to the Kingdom by the treaty named after it. It was under its influence that so many homins had been convinced of the demonic nature of the Kamis…

Higher up on the cart, perched on its tarped load, a Matis armed with a fast firing gun stood, watching the surrounding woods. He was not helmeted and wore the ordinary garb of regular army soldiers: a soft, tough cactus-skin suit topped with pieces of white wooden armor. Another appeared to be sitting in the back of the vehicle. The Matis were a naturally slender people, with emaciated features and pearly skin. Aesthetes, refined and ambitious by culture, they kept reminding other peoples of their superiority, even unconsciously. Surrounding the cart, five knights served as escort. They were proudly mounted on [[capryni]]s, slender quadrupedes with thick, light colored skin striped in some places with blue, that wore a single antler and presented a long snout adorned with a singular goatee. '''All the soldiers were equipped with armor of strong white wood''' engraved with purple patterns, bulging at the torso and tightened at the waist. The pauldrons of the armor, as rounded as they were wide, gave the soldiers an imperious look. But the most astonishing thing was their helmet, made up of an ivory mask with an azure blue jewel on the forehead, and a solid and imposing headdress, itself adorned with white amber, and whose ends made of chitin fell down to the level of the ears, thus giving them the appearance of horns. One of the soldiers stood out from the others because of the fine decorations and engravings that studded his armor and helmet. The Matis was undoubtedly a senior officer of the Royal Army, sent with the Herena to represent the King to the Karavan.
[[file:All the soldiers.png|right|400px|alt=… All the soldiers were equipped…|All the soldiers were equipped]]
The child carefully arranged his basket in the center of the shrub and waited a few more seconds for the convoy to advance. When it was about fifty meters from his position, Pü calmly emerged from his hiding place and planted himself in the center of the road. Spotting him without delay, the look-out on top of the load sounded the alarm and the convoy came to a halt. The unexpected halt had the effect of abruptly waking the Herena from his slumber and he almost fell off the cart.

:''"Who are you? State your identity!"'' the look-out exclaimed in a powerful yet melodious tone.

In response, Pü moved forward a few feet, as the riders lined up their mounts and stood in front of the cart. The Zorai cleared his throat and voiced his best mateis. His mother had taught him the languages of the other peoples, with an emphasis on mateis, the one most used for international relations.

:''"I am an apostle of the Kamis, sent to the pagan lands to reveal to the misguided the existence of the Great Progenitor, and to offer to certain chosen ones the Eternal Forgiveness. Children of the Bark, be happy to learn that by my doing, your sins have already been washed away. Before long, your souls will be purified and offered to the Black Warriors of Ma-Duk. Through them, you will contribute to their fight for the preservation of Atys. And if Ma-Duk wills it, you will witness the Sacred War and the coming of the Happy Days."

Despite all his good will, the young homin did not manage to infuse any passion into his sermon. After so many months of morbid speeches, this ritual had become as tiresome as it was painful. Pü knew it, madness was waiting. The voices in his head were making themselves more and more present, and he was developing new behavioral troubles week after week. How many of his brothers and sisters had lost their footing while in exile? Many had never returned. Before he left, he had long judged them harshly, but now he understood. His vision blurred as a powerful headache began to manifest itself. He had to concentrate for a long time to extinguish the first mental murmurs. During these long seconds of absence, the Herena had joined the lookout on the top of the cart. Holding on to the soldier rudely in order not to fall, he shouted to the youth on the road before them.

:''"Ma-Duk? The Great Progenitor? What on Atys are you talking about! If we knew that savages of your kind worshipped the Kamis demons, we thought you had the presence of mind not to question the existence of our Mother, Jena! Does your infamy know no bounds? General, seize this heretic at once!"

Pü took again few steps forward, while massaging his mask.

:''"Be assured, then, that hidden in the heart of Zoran and behind their Great Wall, Min-Cho, his Council of Elders, and the entire Zorai Theocracy still worship your usurping goddess, he said wearily. Decades ago, the Kamis chose to reveal the existence of Ma-Duk to my tribe. Today, unfortunately, we are the only ones who recognize his nature as the Supreme Kami. But other apostles are working within the Jungle. One day, our Zorai brothers will understand the extent of the lies they have been fed since childhood, and if Ma-Duk wills, they will be forgiven for their sins."

The cleric's face turned red as he nearly fell over from his wild gestures, which tangled the multiple capes of his outfit. Fortunately for him, the lookout was doing his best to prevent the Herena from humiliating himself by falling.

:''"Stop your infamies, savage! No forgiveness for your race of degenerates worshipping the Demons! Your skeletal faces are abominations, an offense to the Karavan! You deserve to be exterminated like all the primitives who defile Atys with their presence! Catch that savage for me without delay, that is an order!"

High perched on his capryni, the Matis general tried to intervene to calm the growing tension. It was without counting on the ardor of one of the knights, who obeyed the exhortation of the priest by dashing at full speed. Pü shook his mask to clear his last headaches and concentrated fully on the situation. From now on, everything was going to go very quickly. He had to silence his inner questions.
Already, the knight had crossed half the distance that separated him from the Zoraï. He held in his right hand a long hollow spear that ended in a braided amber collar. Near the horizontal bar, a handle allowed him to quickly loosen or compress the ring that ended it. This ingenious weapon was generally used to catch the future mounts of the Matis by the throat, when they were still in the wild, but was also adequate to immobilize and subdue homins without hurting them.

Pü's body was swaying slightly. It took him a few more seconds to synchronize the beating of his limbs with the gallop of the mount. When he was about ten meters away, the rider activated the mechanism of his weapon and brandished it, without slowing speed. The noose opened wide enough to encircle the masked head of the Zorai. No question, he knew how to use his weapon. But that was not taking into account the agility of a young homin. As the soldier split the air on his right to seize his prey by the throat, Pü voluntarily dove in the direction of the attack while dodging it. Passing between the weapon and the capryni, he managed to catch the strap on the animal's side before even hitting the ground. Firmly gripping, he pulled as hard as he could, not to destabilize the speeding beast, but to throw his light child's body over the animal. He swung up and narrowly landed on the capryni's hindquarters, just as the rider glanced back to see what had happened to the Zorai. As the knight met Pü's gaze, who was balancing on the animal only by the strength of his thighs, his prey, now executioner, quickly put his hands around his neck and broke it with a sharp twist. The Matis' weapon slipped from his right hand and broke on the ground. If Pü could not ensure his death, his paralysis was guaranteed. He let the armored body slump over him so it would not fall, retrieved the reins held by its left hand, slowed the pace and turned back. Back to his starting point, where he stopped his run and jumped to the ground to the left of the animal. The soldier's body collapsed heavily to the right. The helmet came off under the impact, allowing the Zorai to observe his inert face. '''The knight was a homina, and by that token, perhaps a mother'''. For a split second, Pü saw the mask of his mother superimposed on the face of the corpse. He closed his eyes. Three. He was only three short.
[[file:The knight.png|right|400px|alt=… The knight was a homina…|The knight was a homina]]
At the top of the cart, the cleric's face had changed from a reddish complexion to a much more livid white than usual. As for the soldiers, none of them reacted, shocked as they were by the violence of the scene they had just witnessed. Only the general had kept his composure. He moved his mount forward a few steps and turned back to the convoy.

:''"Giero, ride as fast as your capryni can towards the nearest outpost! Brief the intendant on the situation and send us reinforcements. Do not underestimate the threat. Be'Maty, get to the outpost too! You won't be able to keep up with Giero because of the cargo, but your mektoubs are strong, so don't spare them. As soon as he has delivered his message, Giero will join you on the road. Vicho, stay in the cart! You will protect the cargo and the Herena with your life until Giero returns. Zani, Lichnini, Sivaldo, with me! Do not intervene until I give you the order."

The general's confident tone helped the soldiers to wake up from their stupor. All compiled without saying a word. The sentry jumped out of the cart and cocked his gun, the Matis sitting at the back of the vehicle replaced him at the top of the cart, which began to maneuver to turn around. Only the cleric, who was just coming to his senses, showed the intention of protesting. But the stern look the general gave him dissuaded him, and his chalky pallor deepened. Usually, Pü left no survivors, for only the absence of witnesses ensured that he could continue to operate safely in these lands. Besides, he usually avoided attacking the regular army, whose every missing soldier was investigated, and preferred to attack the tribes of fanatics or the groups of bandits that dotted the kingdom. But this time, everything was different. When the first would speak, he would already be on his way back. He watched his four future opponents carefully, as one of the riders flung himself at full speed towards the southwest, followed by the cart. He had to avoid facing them all together. He waited a few seconds, enough time for the messenger to disappear down the road and then started to move slowly. At the first step, the general shouted.

:''"Do not move on any further! For being guilty of the crime of voluntary manslaughter of a soldier of the Kingdom of Matia, you must appear before the royal justice. As our law requires, you will have the right to defend yourself during your trial. Now, cooperate, or we will be obliged to apprehend you by force."

Pü raised his hands to feign submission and continued to walk forward. He knew the Matis would not be fooled, but he had to gain a few yards. Right now, the greatest threat was the gunner. He had to eliminate him first. However, he should not underestimate the high ranking officer. Under normal circumstances, he would have been dealing with a simple squad leader, not an experienced homin of war.

:''"I will not repeat myself, freeze!"'' shouted the general again.

The Zorai would probably not manage to take another step before the general sounded the assault. He put his right hand behind his back and rested it on the small round shield that hung there. He had no right to make a mistake. If he missed now, the following would be much more uncertain. He closed his eyes again and let his senses fully open to the world. The direction and strength of the wind, the humidity of the air: important parameters to take into account to make the perfect throw. Reopening his eyelids, he turned his gaze to the gunman. The soldier was too far away to be sure but the position of his arms indicated that he was ready to fire. Pü took a deep breath and sprang into action. Faster than ever, he unhooked his shield and drew his arms back like a rope. It took him less than a second to validate his trajectory and propel his buckler. The projectile flew to the left of the path, giving the illusion of a missed throw. Pü took advantage of the general lack of understanding to dash off in the other direction. As expected, the gunner was ordered to intervene and engaged his weapon. '''With both feet firmly planted on the bark, he began to shoot at the Zorai, laying on heavy fire'''. But the recoil of the weapon made it difficult to aim, giving Pü a few seconds before the shots hit. The child wiggled and jumped skillfully, trying to make it harder for the gunner to fire, as his shots became more and more accurate. At that moment, the Matis probably thought they were going to prevail. That was not counting on the skillful curve that the shield's trajectory took. Skimming past the trees that marked the edge of the road, the shield deflected toward the shooter who was now positioned with his back to it. No one noticed the maneuver except the general, who was more astute than the rest of his squad and saw the deadly projectile as it was about to strike the back of the gunner's skull. He shouted something and jumped from his capryni. Quickly getting up, he ran towards the soldier. In response to his superior's shout, the latter had just turned towards the flying menace. Not seeing him react, the general tried to tackle him, but only succeeded in shoving him. The shield split deeply into the face of the dazed Matis who spun around and collapsed heavily on the ground.
[[file:With both feet.png|right|400px|alt=… With both feet firmly planted…|With both feet firmly planted]]
Pü stopped and caught his breath. If the gunner was not dead, he had at least passed out, and therefore was no longer a threat for the moment. While the general lingered at the side of the unfortunate, the young Zorai mistakenly thought he would have time to consider his next move. But the two riders had a different take on that, and urged each other to attack.

:''"General, stay with Sivaldo, we are dealing with the masked primitive!"'' shouted the first.

:''"Yes general! So far, his cowardly techniques have only worked because we were not prepared for them,"'' added the second. ''"Let us avenge Tinailli's death! We promise you to honor him!"

The general protested, but the two riders flung themselves at full speed toward the Zorai, who did not seem to mind. The last few dozen meters that separated them were swallowed up in a few seconds. But remembering the death of their first comrade, the Matis did not make the mistake of charging the young warrior. They stopped before they reached his level, jumped off their mounts and moved forward to catch him in a pincer movement. Judging by their respective behavior, the two Matis must have been inexperienced soldiers. Blinded by hatred and the desire for revenge, they did not know yet that they had just thrown themselves into the jaws of the gingo. In the distance, the general had just reached his capryni to join in urgency the two imprudents. Alone against two, the young warrior had all his chances. He had to finish it as soon as possible before the only really experienced soldier of the squad joined them. The Matis who had positioned himself at his back held a heavy, nicely ornamented amber sword in both hands, while the one facing him was armed with a long pike crowned with braided amber. Pü would have liked to read his face, but the imposing horned helmet he wore prevented him from doing so. Soon the Matis drew closer. Logically, the soldier in front of him would launch the first attack, giving the one behind him the opportunity to use a blind spot to attack. That's exactly what happened. The pikeman shouted and pierced the air with a precise thrust, hoping to impale the Zorai with a single blow. Without even moving his feet, Pü sent his right hand into contact with the spike while pivoting and shifting his pelvis to the opposite side. The vembrance on his forearm scraped loudly at the multiple sharp points. Abruptly twisting his wrist, he grabbed the long handle of the weapon. Instead of pushing back the offensive, he encouraged the movement, and used the momentum of the Matis to destabilize him while preserving the impetus of his assault. Deviating slightly the direction of the attack, and always without taking off the feet of the ground, he curved his back behind, and dodged the horizontal blow that the swordsman tried to strike him. He then had only to make the pike maintain its velocity so that its deadly points pierced the left thigh of the unfortunate swordsman, who collapsed in the shock, screaming. Carried away by the uncontrolled movement of his weapon, the first assailant almost fell on top of the injured man. Pü seized the opportunity and helped him. Drawing his dagger with his free hand as the soldier dropped the weapon firmly embedded in his comrade's flesh, he took a step back to regain his balance and with a precise blow drove his blade into the neck under the pikeman's helmet. A long spray of blood spurted out as he pulled his dagger from his opponent's carotid artery. As expected, the soldier panicked and quickly removed his helmet to compress and heal his throat with the powers of Sap before his brain stopped getting blood. Leaving him no time to act, Pü grabbed the Matis' brown hair and delivered several sharp cuts to his throat with his dagger. When the soldier's head finally separated from the rest of his body, it collapsed onto the pike, which sank even deeper into the bloody wound of the man on the ground. Pü glanced back: the general would soon be here. He put away the blood-stained dagger, dropped his victim's head, and approached the badly wounded soldier who, now trapped under his comrade's heavy, still throbbing armor, was no longer able to extract the pike to magically heal his leg. The homin took off his helmet and started to moan. He must have been Niï's age, about ten years older than Pü.

:''"Please, don't kill me!"

Pü sincerely pitied him. He hated to kill. And especially when his opponents were not prepared for it. But now he had no choice. He was almost there, he couldn't give it all up now. The young Zoraï cleared his head again and ignored the Matis' complaint. He moved closer to him, placed his left foot gently on his neck, and crushed it with his heel. Picking up the sword of the now paralyzed man, he stabbed him in the throat, thus preventing any regeneration. One. He only needed one more. If the fallen gunner was still alive, the homin who was going to face him now would surely not let him approach the wounded man without a fight. The general, who had indeed climbed back onto his mount to bridge the distance between himself and the Zorai, before jumping off a second time, was now heading towards the warrior with unerring steps. Stopping a few meters fromPü, he took off his helmet. For the first time in a long while Pü was startled. For a moment, the child thought he saw his father's mask. The Matis was in his prime, as indicated by the few wrinkles that disturbed the harmony of his facial features and the faint shine of his long ebon hair. But above all, it was the assurance and intensity of his gaze that reminded the boy of his father. Those piercing blue eyes were those of a determined man, ready to give everything to accomplish his will. Pü took a step back.

:''"It is not necessary for us to fight,"'' he said in a troubled voice. ''"I have accomplished my mission. Leave the gunner to me and go home. Please take my advice, and join your family."

The general placed his helmet at his feet and drew a long, wide, finely decorated sword. He gave him a icy look.

:''"I'm not going to be able to grant your request, boy. You have just killed three of my knights. Karan Domini, King and High Priest of the Kingdom of Matia, must know why the Zorai Theocracy trains child soldiers for assassination missions."

:''"I tell you again: my tribe and I do not depend on the Zorai Theocracy. Please, move away!"'' replied Pü, stepping back a second time.

The Matis stepped forward with determination.

:''"Were you forced to kill? If it's normal for a boy your age to learn fighting skills, you shouldn't have to spill blood so young. And certainly not under these conditions. A boy your age spends time with his friends, his brothers, his sisters, his father and mother."

Listening to the words of the officer, and on the mention of his relatives, the young Zoraï was seized by a fit of rage.

:''"Don't talk about my family! Run away, while there is still time!"

A cold smile appeared then on the general's face.

:''"I seem to have struck a chord. Could it be your parents who sent you so far from the Jungle to commit these murders? A mother is supposed to teach her children love, not death!"

A violent headache pierced the child's skull.

:''"'''I forbid you to talk about my mother!'''"
[[file:I forbid you.png|right|400px|alt=… I forbid you to talk…|I forbid you to talk]]
At his departure, she had cried. And though she had urged him not to kill for his own pleasure, she had still asked him to do it for Ma-Duk. Pü sincerely loved Ma-Duk, as much as he hated Jena. The Kamis protected Atys, while the Karavan destroyed it by plundering its resources. But was there no way to prove one's love for Ma-Duk other than by shedding blood? By her words, and her status as High Priestess, his mother approved the barbaric customs of their ancestors. Worse, she passed them on with fervor. But he, who until a few months ago drank every word his mother said, was now vomiting them. How much longer would he be able to feign his attachment to his tribe's values? And if Ma-Duk, aware of this last thought, was already considering that he was no longer faithful to him, could he ever become the Shadow of the Black Mask? Would his father execute him when Grandmother Bä-Bä told him the news? Would his brother and mother let him? Pü was reaching his limits, his brain was boiling. Feeling the Zorai flinch, the Matis pushed him further still.

:''"So the Herena was right: you are only animals! The homins of your people impregnate their hominas and turn them into egg-laying mothers, just good for producing child soldiers to be sacrificed on the altar of your hateful beliefs!"

With these words, Pü drew his dagger and short sword and ran at the Matis, screaming. He had given him the opportunity to flee and the man had not taken it. If he wished to die, then Pü would help him, as simply as he had his soldiers. It would only take a few seconds. It would all be over soon. He would no longer have to endure this pain. At least that's what he imagined in his fury. The general's sword lit up and the young warrior was seized at the ankles before he even understood his opponent maneuver. The experience of the Matis had spoken, and the pride of the Zorai was going to cost him dearly. He had underestimated his opponent and rushed in blindly, without anticipating the use of a magical hobbling enchantment. Grasping oots had sprung up from the bark and were completely preventing him from moving. Given the momentum of his run, Pü had nearly stumbled forward, and it was only just that he had managed to keep himself standing. Panic-stricken, he tried to extricate himself from the magical trap by slashing with his weapons the hard vines that were slithering up his calves, forgetting the spells caster. Suddenly, while all his attention was focused on his legs, the sky darkened. His blood ran cold as he reflexively raised his head. Above him, the imposing armor of the Matis blocked the light of day: he had taken advantage of the Zoraï's panic to force him into close combat. The backlight intensified the Soldiers' ferocious look, freezing Pü. The General raised his great sword in a downward position. His white armor lit up as the light filtered in from the change in stance, and Pü had to look away to avoid being blinded.

:''"Give up!"'' said the Matis with a solemn air. ''"The blow I'm going to deal you will inflict a critical wound. If you move, it could be your death. I will keep you alive until reinforcements arrive. Then we'll take you to Matia!"

Even if the general seemed confident in his ability to bring him alive to the Matis king, Pü would rather die a thousand deaths than become a captive of the Karavan's minions. He tried to struggle again, but the roots were now hugging his waist and beginning to creep up his belly. This was how his short life was coming to an end. At last, Grandmother Bä-Bä was wrong. He who had grown up with the idea of becoming the Shadow of the Black Mask and dying among his own people protecting his brother, was going to die alone and far from home, with Jena's dazzling astral imprint as his last sight. How ironic. As the young Zorai turned his mask to the left so that he would not have to endure the mocking reflection of the cuirass any longer, he saw a strange light source beyond the edge of the road, under the shade of the tall sylvan trees. Concentrating, he could clearly discern two spheres of identical size. They were of a dazzling whiteness and were glowing all the more brightly because they were surrounded by darkness. No, it wasn't just the darkness... Pü made out a small black figure in the shadows. His blood went icy cold again. There were not spheres, these were eyes. The eyes of the Black Kami who had appeared to him twice until then. He was here. Ma-Duk was looking at him.

No, he could not give up. He was a Black Warrior of Ma-Duk, forged by the best fighters of the Jungle and blessed by the Kamis. As long as he could fight, he would not give up. Invigorated, his body reacted instinctively as the general brought his weapon down on him to pierce his left collarbone. He sent his right arm into contact with the massive blade to protect himself, and if his short sword did not succeed in blocking the blow, it nevertheless allowed him to deflect the attack, at the cost of a part of his hand, which was sliced to pieces. The state of extreme tension in which the young warrior found himself had the positive effect of making him completely ignore the pain. The sword scuffed him and planted itself heavily in the ground. Taking advantage of the second's respite he was given, Pü dropped the dagger he held in his left hand and manipulated the surrounding Sap to draw a spell with both hands. His pair of magic amplifiers hanging from his belt, now entangled with the roots, he was unable to use them. But for what he intended to do, a crude spell should suffice. So '''he didn't hesitate, and set his body on fire to escape from his wooden prison'''. He managed to free himself from the partially burned roots just as the general snatched his sword from the ground. As he launched his second attack, Pü narrowly avoided it with a roll. The Matis followed up with a series of slashes and jabs, which the young warrior dodged with various acrobatics. Disarmed, he was not able to parry the attacks. He may be more skilful than the general and not encumbered with heavy armour, yet the grown man seemed much more enduring and had not yet suffered any injuries. Even more worryingly, his blows were becoming more and more precise. For the first time in his life, Pü was fighting a master of arms in a fight to the death. The experience of the Matis was showing, and it took him only a short time to start anticipating the movements of the young warrior.
[[file:Not hesitate.png|right|400px|alt=… he didn't hesitate…|he didn't hesitate]]
The seconds ticked by and Pü was quickly running out of steam. Several times, the soldier managed to graze him, slashing his childlike body with the tip of his sword. Pü regularly called upon the powers of the Sap to heal his wounds and partially regenerate his stamina, but at this rate he would soon reach his limits. He would have liked to be able to go behind the Matis' back, to try and break his neck, as he knew so well how to but the Matis would not let him have any respite. Without a weapon, he had no way to get out of this hopeless situation. While he was looking for a way out, he caught sight of a dagger hanging from the soldier's waist, hidden behind the ceremonial cloth adorning his belt. How could he not have seen that before? Pü cursed himself and devised a plan of action between two rolls and three contortions. He was going to risk it all. Out of breath, the Zorai waited for the perfect moment to act. Suddenly, he who was until then only backing away from the Matis's attacks, took advantage of a wide strike to roll forward and pass under the sharp blade. His movement just finished, he pushed as hard as he could to his legs, and leapt upon the left side of the soldier. If the Matis was disconcerted by the direction of the dodge, he reacted very quickly and landed a violent side kick on the young warrior. The child's body crunched under the soldier's heavy boot and crashed to the ground a few steps away. Pü struggled to his feet and spat blood. His opponent had just broken several of his ribs. But behind his mask, the young warrior was smiling: his good hand was now armed. Although different from the daggers he was accustomed to handling, that of the Matis would do the job perfectly. The young homin took a deep breath and raised his mask towards the general. This one had turned around and was about to make a breakthrough with his sword to return to close combat.

:''"Give up, boy!"'' he said as he charged.

Again, Pü would have only one chance. And so far, luck had often smiled upon him. Finally, maybe the Black Kami was actually watching over him. As the soldier rushed toward him, sword pointing forward, Pü waited for the right moment and threw the dagger in the air, far above him. As soon as he had done so, he infused all the Sap he could into his legs and made his thighs swell like never before. Drawing on the limit of what he could endure, he lifted a cloud of sawdust and leapt into the air with a superhomin jump.

Totally surprised by the nature of the attack and partially blinded by the cloud of debris, the Matis mistakenly believed that the Zoraï was simply trying to flee. He understood too late the reality of the situation when he felt his sword suddenly become heavy toward the point. Pü had just landed on the flat of the blade and was dashing like a tightrope walker in the direction of its bearer. Already very unbalanced, the Matis tried in vain to straighten up, right at the moment as Pü used the weapon for support for more acrobatics. This time the young warrior landed on the older one's shoulders, and propelled himself once more towards the sky, forcing the Matis to one knee. Pü must have been about four meters from the ground, and was flying over the cloud of dust that was beginning to dissipate. He only had to reach out with his good arm to grab the very dagger he had thrown away a few seconds before. Spreading his legs and looking down as gravity began to take effect, he laid eyes on the general's face. The man had lost his terrifying posture and was now staring with eyes wide open. Pü read admiration there. The child executed another perfect throw and the dagger went straight into the skull of the Matis.

Still in the air, the Zorai tried to catch himself properly, but his broken ribs prevented him from doing so. He collapsed heavily onto his good side, not far from the body of the general, who was frozen on his knees in a strange position. His head was hanging back, facing the sun, his long ebony hair swaying gently in the wind. Pü stretched out on his back and spread his arms. Over. His ordeal was over. He had won.

}}
{{NavChap|[[Chapter III - Dying to Be Reborn]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter V - The Seed of Doubt]]}}
{{Portal|The Great Library|Zoraï}}
[[Category:The Sacred War]]

Chapter I·I - A Fate Paved with Glory

2022-07-02T19:56:09Z

Acridiel:

<noinclude>{{Trad
|DE=Kapitel I - Ein Schicksal gepflastert mit Ruhm|DEs=2
|EN=Chapter I - A Fate Paved with Glory|ENs=4
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|FR=Chapitre I - Un destin pavé de gloire|FRs=0
|RU=Глава I - Судьба, вымощенная славой|RUs=2
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<center><big><big><big><big>'''I - A Fate Paved with Glory'''</big></big></big></big></center> 
<center><big><big>'''Jena Year 2464'''</big></big></center>

{{Quotation|''Belenor Nebius, narrator'' • ''Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator''|
The toddler opened his eyes and gurgled. Waving his chubby little arms, he searched with his clumsy fingertips for the rag doll that had been sharing his nights since he was born. Not finding it, he squirmed to extract himself from his cocoon of sheets, and grabbed the protective bars of his little crib to stand up tall. Like on so many mornings before, he found the doll lying on the floor, gazing up at him with a disappointed look. Unhappy to have been inadvertently pushed from the warm and cozy nest thy shared. He was struggling to join her, trying some clumsy acrobatics, when the drape of the room he was in opened. Each morning he beheld the same apparition. He never got tired of his mother's incredible beauty. Totally forgetting his doll, he flapped his arms, laughing, eager to again be with the one who was torn from him every night by his father. Behind her tattooed mask, the [[Zorai]] gave him a smile and murmured some words. Even though he didn't understand her words, her voice was the most beautiful melody he knew.

:''"Good morning, my darling. Another restless night, I see."

She approached the crib, picked up the doll then held out her arms to him. The boy, who was already stomping his linens with impatience, mimicked her gesture and squealed with delight when his mother grabbed him by the waist and held him aloft. She twirled him through the air for a few seconds then put her bony forehead against his still pristine one, finally lowering him down to her heart where she held him tight.

:''"Today is a great day for you Pü. Mom believes in you. Like your brother, the destiny awaiting you is paved with glory."

The toddler immediately calmed down at the touch of his mother's mask and blue skin. She tasted so good. She smelled so good. She was so soft. Opening his mouth, he ran his tongue over the warm flesh to catch the sweet scent of his mother's sweat. While heading towards the main room of the house, the Zorai extracted one of her voluptuous breasts from her tunic made of soft fibers, which she gently presented to her son. The little boy did not need any encouragement. He grabbed the soft curve with both hands, while his mouth latched onto the dark patch of skin which nourished him every day.

The dwelling of Pü and his family consisted of a large circular hut, which contained the main room, and two smaller huts flanking the large one, which housed the parent's room in which Pü slept and his older brother's room. The foundation of these accommodations had mainly been constructed of soft woods, vines and various large leaves selected for their waterproofing abilities. After Grandmother Bä-Bä's, this dwelling was the most imposing in the tribe. In the center of the main room was the family table, on which a vast amount of varied food rested. Around the table, Pü's father and brother were eating in silence. Pü stared at the two [[homins]] in succession, still sucking on his mother's breast.
[[file:His big black.png|right|400px|alt=His big black mask was scaring him...|His big black mask was scaring him...]]
He guessed a smile under the mouth slit of his brother's [[The Zorai Mask|mask]]. He wasn't yet used to seeing him like this. Until recently, the older boy's face had been naked still and regularly displayed peculiar grimaces that had no other purpose than to make his little brother laugh. But when the boy grew to be twelve years old, a horned mask had grown too. Pü loved his big brother Niï very much. He tickled Pü, played with him, and showed him incredible acrobatic choreographies which plunged the little Zoraï in a state of overexcitement and which had a knack for annoying their mother.

His father did not look at him and kept eating in silence. Pü didn't know what to think of him. '''His big black mask was scaring him''', and he didn't remember ever having guessed a smile behind it. Moreover, he had already seen him behaving harshly with his brother, lounging at he boy violently with sharp objects that Niï nevertheless managed to dodge. He had also on several occasions caught him abusing his mother in the parental bed. Firmly seizing her hair, grabbing her wrists, crushing her with his powerful musculature, and even giving her at times slaps on the lower part of the body, while she muffled her screams in the cushions.

Yet neither his brother nor his mother seemed to resent the big Zorai. His brother seemed to keep regarding his father up as a role model, and his mother always ended their nightly brawls with tender strokes that Pü was jealous of, looking at them from his crib. He definitely did not understand. And warily, he preferred his father to continue to ignore him, while his mother and brother were busy bringing him love and laughter.

Lunch continued in silence until his father spoke up.

:''"Niï, quickly finish lunch and go prepare our formal wear, please. Meanwhile, your mother will dress Pü for the ceremony. Also, make sure our weapons are properly oiled."

The young Zorai grabbed a last handful of dried fruit in a hurry, stood up, and bowed to his father.

:''"I readied our weapons last night before bedtime, Father. And I'll get our outfits ready straightaway."

His Father answered him by slightly inclining his head, then refocused on the contents of his plate. At the same time, his mother got up and took Pü off her breast. The little one, already full, did not flinch but continued to cling to her exposed flesh to maintain contact. She proceeded to change his night soiled swaddling for a prettily braided panty. About ten minutes passed and the family was ready to leave.
{{Couillard}}
Pü squinted as his mother came out of the hut. Despite his tribe having settled in the gigantic stump of a felled sky-tree, the bark ceiling, badly damaged, let in a few rays of sunshine in at certain times of the day. One of which had just found the eye of the little Zorai, who took refuge between his mother's breasts. In the absence of true celestial light, the community had taken to illuminating its dwelling with lamps containing fireflies.
Although some might have described the atmosphere as gloomy, Pü loved it when his mother took him for a walk through the sloping and winding streets or on the suspension bridges that connected the different levels of the small city. The village, much higher than it was wide, was built vertically. The dwellings were located on the heights, while the lower levels were reserved for communal areas, such as stores, places of worship, the dojo, and the dining hall. Pü loved the dining hall. The other Zorais were very kind to him and he had tasted nice, new food there. Yet this time, the toddler sensed that the walk was anything but ordinary. Other members of the tribe were present in great numbers, forming a path from the family hut to the village heights. All wore their black ceremonial dress, consisting of a loincloth of vegetal fibers, a wide belt of braided straw but especially recognizable by the imposing white amber lens that adorned each of their solar plexuses. As the family moved forward, led by Pü's mother, the people bowed deferentially and joined the group. The toddler, full and lulled by his mother's walk, dozed off into a light sleep. As this scene suggested, his family was no ordinary family.

Looï Fu-Tao, Pü's mother, worked outside the village as a diplomat. She was In charge of maintaining relations with the Zorai Theocracy, the political regime that had governed the country for almost three centuries, whose headquarters were located in [[Zoran]], its capital. For some forty years, the Great Sage [[Min-Cho]] had been the highest homin authority in the Theocracy, who, assisted by the Council of Sages, ruled the [[Jungle]], the native country of the Zorai people. While the Sages hoped that the members of the "Cursed Strain Tribe" – as they liked to name it – would eventually accept the authority of the Theocracy, nothing helped. It had been several generations since the tribe had seceded, and things didn't look like they were about to change. But Looï was not only a diplomat. In the village, she was first and foremost the High Priestess of the Black Cult of [[Ma-Duk]], the depository of religious authority.
[[file:Sang Fu-Tao was.png|left|400px|alt=Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask|Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask]]
Her husband '''Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask''', the First Warrior, military chief of the tribe. A few months after his birth, Niï, their eldest son, had been promised a great destiny by Grandmother Bä-Bä, the witch and seer of the village. According to the prophecy, Niï Fu-Tao would someday succeed his father as the Black Mask, and above all, would become the Sacred Warrior. Elected by Ma-Duk the Great Genitor, Niï Fu-Tao would be brought to tour the world, converting the lost to the True Faith, subduing the atheists and exterminating the heretics. For the Zorai Theocracy, this prophecy was precisely falling under heresy.

For the conflict that opposed the tribe to the rest of the country was first of all religious. Indeed, all Zorais worshipped the [[Kami|Kamis]], mysterious spiritual entities that protected the [[ecosystems]]. Able to change their appearance at will and to travel without physical constraint, these divine guardians permanently ensured that no one compromised the fragile balance of [[Atys]], the plant world where all were coexisting. Although discreet, they shared close relations with the homins, as long as those showed respect for nature. Among the different homin peoples, the Zorais were by far the most receptive to the magic of the Kamis. Already provided with a large size and a blue skin, which distinguished them from the rest of the hominity, a bony and horned mask grew on their face, down from their forehead, during their adolescence. This mask represented the true soul of its wearer and testified to the unique link he had with the Kamis. However, if every Zorai worshiped the Kamis, not everyone agreed on the identity of the Supreme Kami. For the majority of Zorais, the Kamis served [[Jena]], the Goddess of the Day Star and the Mother of Hominity. For the dissident tribe, Jena was an usurping goddess from the sky, alien to Atys and intending evil. According to them, the one and only Supreme Kami was Ma-Duk, meaning "Great Mask" in the Zorai language. He was the Great Genitor, asleep in the depths of Atys. A god that no one recognized but them.

But the discordance did not end there. The Zorai Theocracy, which had become particularly isolationist in the last century, had built the Great Wall, a gigantic edifice protecting the borders of the Jungle from all foreign contact. However, this Great Wall had never prevented the Theocracy from maintaining relations with the [[Karavan]], a strange group of hominoids dressed from head to toe in amazing black armor and using prodigious instruments. These peculiar entities, whose true nature no one knew, lived in the skies of Atys. Equipped with a technology unknown to all, and traveling with curious vehicles capable of overcoming gravity, they crisscrossed the sky to spread the word and serve the interests of the goddess Jena. In exchange for their loyalty, the Karavan had given the Zorais the secrets of magnetism and electrostatic properties, and had also taught them to write. The Kamis abhorred the Karavan, and did not hesitate to make this known to the homins, but this never prevented the Council of Elders from accepting their gifts and to use Karavan knowledge to levitate the buildings of Zoran to this day. For the dissident tribe, as an apostle of Jena abhorred by the Kamis, the Karavan had to be seen as a serious threat and fought accordingly.

These theological divergences heated the minds of the Great Sage Min-Cho and his advisors, who were unable to accept any ideological criticism and made the dissident tribe want to wage holy war. But rather than attacking the tribe head-on, fearing the prowess of its soldiers and the mysterious powers of Grandmother Bä-Bä, the Zorai Theocracy made the tribe pass for a common pagan sect in the eyes of peoples of the Jungle. This had worked quite well up to this point.

For Pü Fu-Tao, the youngest child, who had just been awakened by the distant echo of a bird call, none of this held any interest yet. However, with his big black eyes, he gazed at the villagers with astonishment, aware that today something seemed different. Perhaps he knew, deep down, that something important was about to happen. When, recognizing the alleys between the huts, he understood that they were going to Grandmother Bä-Bä's house, his heart began to race. He did not like the old woman. Her gaunt mask frightened him, her odor stung his nose, and he had heard some associated her presence with illness.
Grandmother Bä-Bä was in fact also the village healer, whom people went to see to find solutions to their problems. Although the Fu-Tao couple represented the authority within the tribe, everyone knew that Grandmother Bä-Bä was actually the central pillar of the community. It was said that she was older than the oldest Zorai in the country and that she had helped deliver every member of the tribe.

When the column of people arrived at Grandmother Bä-Bä's huge hut at the highest point of the village, Pü, feeling tears welling up, clutched his mother's robe tightly. Looï put her forehead against his, which had the effect of reassuring him, and advanced towards the big hut, her son in her arms. The boy had just enough time to glance behind him to see his brother waving to him, before heavy curtains obstructed his vision and the characteristic smell of the dwelling reached his nose. In the back of the main room, Grandmother Bä-Bä was working over an amber stockpot. Despite her highly advanced age, she was surprisingly lively and agile, quickly pulling out various plants and roots from the multitude of pockets that made up her apron. Nothing suggested such vitality, however, as her livid, bony, dry body was crossed with deep wrinkles. Grandmother Bä-Bä was constantly postponing death, and everyone knew that she owed this to the powers granted to her by the Kamis.

:''"Come closer my daughter.”, she said in a cavernous voice, without looking at her guests. “Set your son on the altar, I will be ready soon."

Obediently, Looï walked over to a beautiful carved stump. When she gently placed her son on the firm surface, breaking the mother's touch, he started to cry.

:''"Don't comfort him, my daughter. Tears feed the predictions."

The young Zorai did not understand. No matter how much he called for her, his mother did not react, staring at him with a strange look on her masked face, bending over him. As Pü reached out, trying to grab his mother's long tresses, the old woman's hideous mask cut off eye contact. His tears redoubled.

:''"Hold him tight, and don't panic like you did with your first son. Everything will go well."

Grandmother Bä-Bä pulled a dagger with a finely engraved black blade from her apron and gently grabbed the young Zorai's hand. At the touch of the cracked skin, Pü shivered and began to struggle. Unfortunately for him, his mother would not let him, and held him tight. What had he done wrong? Why did he have to go through all this? As he felt like it could not get any worse, thIngs got much darker. The old lady put the blunt side of the weapon on his palm and closed his little fingers around the blade,one after the other. Then, all at once, she squeezed quickly and firmly.
Electrified by the pain, Pü started to scream, while his mother looked at him with a deadened air. All the while holding him immobile.
He loved her so much and had always thought that she loved him too. But now she left him at the mercy of this witch, and took part in his abuse! What was happening?

:''"Its almost over. I just have to collect the precious liquid. Don't try to calm him down, pain will strengthen the blood."

The old woman placed the dagger on the altar and retrieved a small leather purse from her apron. One by one, she took out seven strange orange dice, which she wet on the bloody blade. Once the last relic was blessed with blood, she softly sang a few ritualistic words. The strange, dark symbols engraved on the dice's amber faces seemed to absorb all light in the hut. The amber around them coming to fiery life.
Pü stopped crying, hypnotized by the terrifying spectacle unfolding before his eyes. The witch threw the dice with great force and without hesitation upon the altar. They did not stop rolling around the smooth surface, their orange glow and black shadows painting moving scenes onto the walls of the hut. Like living frescoes that told a story.

Pü beheld a circle of homins and Kamis, dancing on the circular walls of the hut. He could almost hear them singing.
Suddenly the Kamis turned into gigantic maws and devoured a large part of the homins, who were trying in vain to fight back.
The scene then focused on the survivors of the macabre dance, who, led by a Zorai, climbed a mountain of corpses. Although the slope became steeper with each step, new homins joined the group and supported their climb.
Finally, once he had reached the top, the warrior brandished his sword towards the sky and shattered the star that was sitting there. At the same time, the dice stopped moving and gave the light back to the hut.

Grandmother Bä-Bä took a long look at Looï without uttering a word. The Zorai Priestess bent over her son and gently took hold of him.
Pü, whose mind seemed to dwell on distant happenings, regained contact with reality the moment his mother held him to her chest. His trial was over, she still loved him.
He fell asleep on the spot.
[[file:Carefully avoided meeting.png|right|400px|alt=carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband|carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband]]
:''"You know what you have to tell them, my daughter,"'' the old homina finally said without taking her eyes off Looï.

Taking a few steps forward, she placed a finger on the child's mutilated hand. The wound closed immediately.

:''"From now on, your son's future, and perhaps the future of all hominkind, depends on your lie. It is a necessary evil. Never forget."

:''"I know, Grandmother… Thank you for everything,"'' she whispered, her voice trembling.

Feverishly, Looï kissed her son on the cheek, and walked towards the exit of the hut, clutching him to her heart. In his sleep, Pü could feel its strong beat.
Pushing aside the curtains as she stepped forward, she faced her people. Each member of the tribe stared at her with a heavy gaze, waiting for the verdict. She '''carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband''', and above all, that of her first son. Clearing her throat a little, she then spoke up.

:''"Grandmother Bä-Bä has thrown the dice! Today I have the great honor of announcing the predictions she made on the occasion of the first birthday of my second son, Pü Fu-Tao.
While Niï, the future Black Mask, will become the Sacred Warrior, going all the way to heaven to destroy the Karavan and Jena, Pü will assist him throughout his journey! He will be his Shadow, who will advise him at every moment and will not hesitate to sacrifice his life to protect him! Praise be to my sons! Praise be to Ma-Duk! Tonight we will hold a feast to the glory of the Sacred War and the coming of the Happy Days!"

An unrivaled cheer ran through the assembly. Waking up with a start, Pü swept the crowd with his gaze. Which stopped sharply on his father's black mask. The little Zorai opened his eyes wide in amazement; for the first time, he saw a smile on his fathers face.
}}

{{NavChap|[[The Sacred War]] |[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter II - Brotherhood]]}}
 
{{Portal|The Great Library|Zoraï}}
[[Category:The Sacred War|Ch 1]]

Chapter I·III - Dying to Be Reborn

2022-06-25T22:02:52Z

Acridiel: Proofread and corrected some mistakes, typos and grammar issues.

{{NavChap|[[Chapter II - Brotherhood]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter IV - Sylvan Exile]]}}
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<center><big><big><big><big>'''III - Dying to Be Reborn'''</big></big></big></big></center> 

<center><big><big>'''Jena Year 2474'''</big></big></center>
{{Quotation|''Belenor Nebius, narrator'' • ''Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator''|

Lost in the heart of the Fyros Desert, Pü ran at full speed across the night-cooled sawdust, fleeing for his life. While it was easy to defeat the [[gingo]]s, the long-snouted canines that hunted in packs in the heart of the jungle, they were no match for the gigantic feline that was chasing him now. But then again, he had never faced anything like the gigantic feline that was chasing him. Feeling its foul breath coming closer, he ventured to glance back. It was then that he saw the black [[varinx]] pounce on him, its mouth wide open. The Zorai dodged its attack with an expert roll and readied his spear. The carnivore had already repositioned and was about to pounce again with its agile legs. As it leapt, Pü tried to impale it with his spear. But with a deft claw, the beast smashed the weapon aside and it stuck in the loose ground. The child tried again to dodge the attack, without success. The enormous jaw of the beast closed with violence on his naked head. It shook him like a rag doll, while he struggled and screamed in fear of death, feeling the predator's teeth crushing his skull.
{{Couillard}}

[[file:The bite of.png|right|400px|alt=… the bite of…|the bite of the icy water]]

:''"Pü, wake up, you must fight!"

The young Zorai emerged from his nightmare. He straightened up and his mother was holding him by the shoulders. Although he regularly fought a black varinx in his dreams, he had never lost the duel before. Covered in sweat, he instinctively brought his hand to his forehead. A small, rigid growth was puncturing his skull. His seed of life was about to grow. While all homins had a seed of life buried in their skulls, only the Zorais' one was doomed to grow like this, until it covered their faces with the mask that marked their passage to adulthood. Pü, only eleven years old, turned out to be an extremely precocious child, and to his great regret, even more than his brother. In secret, he had prayed to the Kamis for a long time, hoping to obtain his mask only after his twelfth birthday, the age at which Niï's had grown. He did not want to draw attention to himself, and even less to weaken the brotherly relationship. Because Pü measured how much this relation had already degraded since, four years ago, he had torn a bell off his elder brother in mock combat at barely seven years old. From that day on, Niï began to neglect him and to spend more and more time training with their father. Previously moderate, he had also gradually become more radical, following in the footsteps of the Black Mask. Thus, it was no longer a question of converting the miscreants: only the sacrificial execution could make them expiate their sins.

But what could the child, about to become an adult, do about that? If the Kamis wanted his mask to grow a year before his brother's, then it must be so. Besides, it would have been a lie to pretend that he himself was not looking forward to this day: Pü had always been anxious about growing up. Nevertheless, the pain that was currently splitting his skull was far more terrible than he had expected. Enough to make him regret having wanted this moment so much. The boy pushed his mother away and got up hastily. Staggering, he helped himself to the wall to reach the drapes at his room's entrance and reach the central room.
His father and brother, already awake, were changing into their ceremonial outfit. Pü saw the confidence they had in him in their eyes. He had to face up, as they had done in their time. Yet, and he felt it again as he looked at his father's black mask, he would never be the equal of his first son in his eyes. He was doomed to grow up in his brother's shadow, which suited him completely. Pü knew the merit there was to occupy the position of second in command, and never had he envied his older brother. The future role he would have to play beside him was fundamental. Yes, he would become the Shadow of the future Black Mask, and he should be proud of it. For just as silence only exists in the face of noise, light is nothing without shadow. Pü fixedated for a few seconds on the tattooed mask of Niï. Concentrating hard to drive out the pain, he tried to regulate his step. Unfortunately a sudden sharp pain erupted in his skull. Pü collapsed against the family table and slipped to the hard ground.

:''"Niï, help your brother up!" shouted his mother, before her husband interrupted her.

:''"Don't do anything, Niï! Pü must pass the test alone, and you know that better than anyone else, Looï. No help, no matter how small, must be given to him."

His wife was about to reply when the young Zorai stood up.

:''"Father is right, I must do it alone. Have faith in me, everyone, I will do our name honor."

Pü said these few words with gritted teeth, squinting to control himself. He left the hut without looking at his family and picked up the sacred basin on the ground. Which was emptied and filled with water every evening in anticipation of the great moment. Undressing completely, he knelt down and poured the contents of the well over his head, as the tradition asked.
Under normal circumstances, '''the bite of the icy water''' would probably have seemed painful to him. But as the burn of the seed inside his skull bruised his face, the sensation of the icy liquid was almost life-saving. Naked as a newborn and washed of his impurities, he was now ready to be reborn during the ritual. But he still had to survive until then. Still kneeling, the young Zorai opened a small chest put next to the now empty basin. It contained two tools that were essential to the sprouting ceremony: a ceremonial dagger and a whistler-stick. Pü put the whistler-stick in his mouth and struggled to his feet. Finally, with the dagger in his hand, he headed for the deeper place in the village: the Ceremonial Square.

With each of the child's exhalations, the whistle emitted a melodious and strangely evanescent chant that everyone within the stump knew. Whistler-sticks were sacred objects, carved from the femurs of the tribe's ancestors. Their singing allowed the villagers to know that one of their own was coming of age, but also to communicate with the Kamis, who seemed to be able to hear them everywhere. More practically, the whistle also prevented the nascent mask from covering the Zorai's mouth, or even seeping into it, at the risk of killing him. Stumbling along the walls and holding on to a fence to progress, Pü advanced laboriously. His affliction prevented him from truly controlling his steps, between the moving slats of the suspended bridges and the winding alleys it was a torturous march. Fortunately, he knew every corner of the village, and instinctively avoided the roots that sometimes intertwined under his feet. He could have moved around with his eyes closed. Guided by the slopes, the characteristic smell of each hut, the nightly cries of the izams nesting in the wooden niches of the bark ceiling. The bewitching echo coming from the abyssal wells that sank beneath the bark. Usually he cherished these night walks but today the path seemed infinitely long, punctuated by pulses of pain that started in his skull and nearly split his whole being.
A particularly severe pulse shot through his body and his legs gave out beneath him as he was climbing down a hollowed-out staircase that led to a middle landing in the village. He fell down the steep slope, tearing some roots from the hard wood in the process and crashed to the ground. As he fell, the dagger and whistler-stick slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor a few feet away from him. Slumped on the cold carpet of lichens, he thought his head would explode, and put a fist in his mouth freed from the whistle to stifle his howls. Luckily, he was still alone, and no one was in situation to discover the pitiful state he was in.

[[file:What miserable.jpg|left|400px|alt=What miserable image was he giving to Ma-Duk?|What miserable image was he giving to Ma-Duk?]]
Nearly driven mad by the pain, Pü was feeling the joints of his jaw distend, some of his teeth loosen, and the skin on his cheeks crack as he managed to force his entire fist into his mouth. With his free hand, he pulled out a clump of blue hair, bleeding. His eyes rolled backwards as he convulsed on the floor. He could feel the bone tearing at his flesh and merging with his forehead. How could he bear such pain? It was inconceivable, there was no chance of him surviving this. Letting baleful thoughts darken his reason, he was about to give up. It was then that it appeared in front of him, between two spasms, out of nothingness, a Black Kami suddenly was leaning over his body. The protective spirit of Atys, whom Pü assumed had answered the call of the whistle, was in every way similar to the one that had appeared to him four years ago in his mother's workshop. Over the past few years, his mother's religious teachings had paid off. Pü had become a devout practitioner, who was feeling a deep and sincere love for Ma-Duk and the Kamis and profound gratitude to them.
A few months ago, his mother had revealed to him that she and his father had found it very difficult to conceive him, and that everything had changed after Looï had gone to meet the Kamis. A few days later, she got pregnant. So Pü was, more than anyone else, grateful to the Kamis. The child looked at the creature, its arm pointing in the direction of Ceremonial Square and then at its eyes. Its large white eyes. Big white eyes that, empty four years before, were now filled with shame for him. '''What miserable image was he giving to Ma-Duk?''' He was besmirching the name of his ancestors. The normally calm young Zorai felt a fierce anger towards himself. He furiously tore his fist from his throat, knocking out a few teeth and expelling bile in the process. Crawling piteously, he managed to retrieve his dagger and whistle-stick, and when he stood up, the Kami was gone. Had he dreamed it, or was it a warning from the Great Progenitor? Ma-Duk's gaze was on him now, he could feel it. He spat out bile and blood, bit into the whistle, and resumed his descent.

Pü had almost reached his destination when he saw the first glimmers of light between the huts, now well above him. Finally, with great difficulty, he climbed down a ladder reaching the deepest part of the village. Here the light was scarcer, and the cold of the deep caves was rising to the surface. The Ceremonial Square was a large circular pit about twenty-five meters in diameter, five meters deep, and the bottom was covered with bark chips. Apart from the gigantic totem pole that occupied the center, it was completely empty. The structure was an impressive wooden pylon completely covered with Zoraïs masks tattooed with various pictograms. These tattoos represented the merit of the Zorai. The more a mask was tattooed, the more deserving the Zorai was. The ultimate tattoo consisted of complete covering in ink, the origin of the so revered Black Mask. Moreover, only those tribesmen who had respected the precepts of the Black Cult of Ma-Duk all their lives could hope to appear on the totem pole at their death. '''Surviving the growth of the mask alone, was one of these precepts'''. With trembling legs, Pü knelt halfway between the ladder and the totem pole and stabbed his dagger into the ground. His vision blurred by pain, he lingered on each of the faces, invoking the names of his heroes, and seeking in their deadened gaze a way to lessen his torment. He had already repeated his prayer a great many times when the first member of the tribe joined him in the square, as the sharp growth was beginning to pass his eyebrows. Blinded by the cephalgias and the drops of acidic sweat that beaded in his eyes, the young Zorai did not succeed in making out the newcomer. He had to wait for him to speak.

:''"Don't be the cause of another dishonor, son. I have trained you every day since you could hold a dagger. I have not only taught you how to fight."

It was Ke'val, his uncle, whose presence blessed the child. He had managed to get to the square before all others and had given his advice in a low voice, so as not to risk being overheard. The young Zoraï had to overcome this ordeal alone. For the tribe, accepting whatever help was offered was considered an act of weakness. Which would prevent him from becoming a Black Warrior of Ma-Duk forever. And from one day joining the eternal totem of faces. For the other Zoraïs in the country, facing the growth of the mask without resorting to anesthetic concoctions was pure madness. Understanding what his uncle was getting at, Pü sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes.

:"Black Warriors absorb their suffering and open themselves to pain."

:"Like bone, the spirit becomes stronger when broken."

:"Ma-Duk offers us the ultimate pain so that no pain in the world can ever reach his soldiers."

The young Zorai muttered these mantras over and over as he focused on his life seed, the heart of his torment. As his uncle had taught him in the past, he stopped trying to fight anymore, letting the waves of pain spread from his forehead to the extremities of his body. Was this the secret? Accepting pain as a friend? To become one with it? Yes, this was it. Dying to be reborn. Pü firmed his bearings and plant his fingers into the ground to keep himself upright. Opening his eyes one more, he lingered one last time at the faces of his forefathers, as the emerging mask began to obstruct his vision.

:''"Don't help me flee my pain, offer me yours. I will cherish it."

At these words, his ancestors came to life. Wooden bodies wriggled out of their totemic prison. One after the other, they fell to the ground like disjointed puppets, and once straightened, they charged at him, screaming. Pü spread his arms. One by one, the apparitions plunged into his forehead. Letting the pain consume him, the child lost all concept of reality. And as his eyes were about to be plunged into darkness, perhaps permanently, he thought he saw the large white eyes of the Black Kami atop the totem pole. As his dwindling vision recognized pride in them he fell into a deep trance.

[[file:Surviving alone.jpg|right|400px|alt=Surviving alone the growth of the mask was one of these precepts|Surviving alone the growth of the mask was one of these precepts]]
Around him, his entire tribe was beginning to arrive from the heights of the village, descending the stairs and ladders in religious silence. They gradually placed themselves in a semicircle on the half of the square opposite from where Pü was kneeling. The last to arrive was Grandmother Bä-Bä, helped by Looï. The old woman was the only one allowed to join the semicircle where Pü was. She stood between the little being and the big totem pole and raised a withered hand. It contained her famous set of orange dice, which she used regularly to catalyze her power and accurately predict the tribe's future. At a gesture, the few lights still present at the level of the heights of the village flew into her palm, which became the only source of light. A small phosphorescent ball now floated above her palm. The Zoraïs, although accustomed to it, never got tired of this bewitching spectacle. A few long seconds passed, silently, then the witch blew on the small star which lit up red and flew to the totem. Upon contact with the ball of light, the edifice instantly burst into flames and the empty orifices of the masks lit up. Grandmother Bä-Bä then began the ritual that each of those present had experienced as a child. She chanted dark incantations for the next few hours, waving her hands moving in complicated, mysterious gestures, while her children hummed liturgical songs in chorus. Deep in the darkness, somewhere in the huge stump, shadows danced in to their rhythm. Further into the jungle, emanating from the gigantic dead sky-tree, one could catch sight of a reddish glow illuminating the sky, and guess at sinister whispers above the wind's low mourn. The Cursed Stump, definitely, lived up to its name for the ignorant. The hypnotic ritual seemed to never stop and none of the Zorais would have risked interrupting it. Tirelessly they stared at the young child who, still in a trance, occasionally broke the monotony of the ceremony with his muffled cries. They thought they would lose him for good an hour after the ritual began, when, barely conscious, Pü tore the dagger from the ground and split his mask in a line from one eye to the other. But the youngest of Sang and Looï Fu-Tao held on. Everyone there in the pit knew what he was going through. They too had experienced it. All of them had been forced to dive into the abyss. And they had all come out of it greater.

A shrieking twilight abyss was sparkling before Pü's eyes. Again, the Black Kami emerged from nothingness. With its great white eyes, it stared at the child, then plunged. Pü had no choice but to follow it, sucked in by a force beyond himself. With enormous speed in the bubbling vacuum, a development and an acceleration of the vague tonal system announced a paroxysm to come, indescribable and orgasmic. The speed quickly became vertiginous. Unable to breathe, so powerful was the force that pushed him, Pü felt the air flaying his skin and infiltrate his body to down to his bones. It was unspeakable Pain. He was liquefying, crushed by the endless increase in pressure. Gradually, he lost all consistency. It was then that, reduced to the state of a simple primordial soup, he finally felt it within him. The monstrous explosion of the liturgical chants of his ancestors, which condesed in their immaculate sonority all the primitive effervescence of the Great Progenitor, he who broods behind each fragment of matter. This resonance which springs up in rhythmic reverberations and penetrated attenuated in all the levels of being carries everywhere on Atys a terrible significance. Ma-Duk spoke to him, and the Kami took Pü to meet him in the glittering heart of the world. But all this disappeared in an instant.
{{Couillard}}
Pü woke up, sweating, panting, his senses confused. He did not know where he was, nor why his body was suffering such affliction. Around him, strange misty shapes were slowly approaching. Instinctively, he grabbed for the weapon at his belt, but could not find it. He moved into a defensive position as his senses slowly regained their place. A body emerged from the fog, and Pü managed to make out its face. He would never tire of his mother's beauty. Deeply hurt, he was about to throw himself into her arms, hoping to find appeasement. But she stopped him and spoke in a voice that struggled to veil her emotion.

:''"Pü Fu-Tao, you have completed your passage to adulthood with success. But this ordeal was only the first. Let us know, do you wish to become a Black Warrior of Ma-Duk?"

The young Zorai, who had finally regained his senses, ran his hands over his new face for the first time. It was firm, bony and warm. In spite of the still sharp pain, he was amazed to be able to follow every lesser swirl of it with his fingers. This face was much more sensitive than his old one. Sensing that his answer was overdue and reading the emotional disorder in his mother's eyes, he stated without surprise:

:''"Yes, I do."

:''"Then accept your new equipment,"'' his mother replied.

Uncle Ke'val came and laid a suit of soft wooden braided straw armor at his feet, which Pü immediately put on. He also gave him a knapsack, a small, sturdy shield, a finely chiseled short sword and dagger, and a fine pair of magic amplifiers, looking like large, ornate gloves. In essence, like everything coming from Atys, homins were made up of spiritual particles, and irrigated by a primordial energy called Sap. Each homin was also able, instinctively, to imprint his will to the Sap that permeated him, in order to manipulate the spiritual particles that made him up, or those of the environment. Thus, he could modify their aspect, their nature, or their behavior. It was magic. Unfortunately, it required a high degree of mastery and consumed a lot of life energy. The amplifiers, because of their composition of conductive elements and catalysts of Sap, were invented in order to overcome the homin limitation, and thus enabled hominkind to practice magic more widely. Pü stared for an instant at the present he was given, then shifted his gaze to his uncle's mask. He read pride there. A year earlier, Shengi, his own son, had failed the mask growing ordeal. Seeing him mad in pain, Grandmother Bä-Bä had to intervene and interrupt the ceremony. By this failure, his cousin had denied himself a glorious future. Pü was particularly sad to learn of his mysterious disappearance some time later. Had he fled? Had someone gotten rid of him? The answer to these questions remained taboo. Putting these painful thoughts out of his mind, he quickly and silently dressed and piked up the items, then turned his gaze back to his mother.

:''"Here is an amber cube, take good care of it. The tribe is currently composed of one hundred and forty-eight souls, and three births are to be expected in the next few months. You will thus have to donate us one hundred and fifty-one offerings. You may go."

:''"Thank you, Mom,"'' he replied, his voice trembling.

Unable to resist, Pü started a hugging motion. He had to embrace his mother. But, appearing from nowhere, his father interfered by catching his wrist.

:''"This is a bad idea Pü. Your mother's reassurance will not soothe you. You have to overcome these trials alone."'' he said curtly, before being interrupted sternly by his wife.

:''"Sang Fu-Tao! The day you succeed in preventing me from embracing one of my sons has not yet arrived! So step aside!"

The Black Mask gave his wife a cold look, but obeyed her without a word as letting go of his son's wrist. Looï threw herself into Pü's arms and he held her as tightly as he could. His mask brushed against his mother's, and the contact, though imperceptible, gave him sensations unknown until then.

:''"This mask and these horns suit you so well, my son, she murmured. I have faith in you, we all have faith in you, you will return to us victorious, I have seen it. But I beg you Pü, I ask you one sole thing: what you about to do, do it only for Ma-Duk, and never for your own pleasure. Never forget. You can become a great warrior and still be my beloved treasure."

Shaken by these new sensations, her words, and especially the excruciating thought of abandoning her for so long, Pü loosened his grip and ran without a word to one of the ladders of the main square. He met the eyes of several villagers, including his brother. Curiously, he did not succeed in deciphering his look. It seemed strangely empty. Pü climbed the different levels of the city in haste, without ever turning around. If he saw his mother's face again now, he might not be able to leave. Finally, he crossed the large and disturbing breach that served as the entrance to the village and passed the edge of the jungle. Forgetting for the first time his physical pain, he hurried without stopping, illuminated through the tops of the tall trees by the light of Jena's cursed star. He didn't even know where he was going, devastated as he was by this last moment with his mother. Reaching the edge of his limits, he collapsed on the wet leafy ground and started to scream in pain. His father knew. This special moment of tenderness was a bad idea, he had been right. The pain, that wasn't his mask, it was his heart.
}}
{{NavChap|[[Chapter II - Brotherhood]]|[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter IV - Sylvan Exile]]}}
{{Portal|The Great Library|Zoraï}}
[[Category:The Sacred War]]

The Sacred War

2022-06-24T22:40:41Z

Acridiel:

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=='''Preface'''==
{{Quotation|''Cheng Lai’Suki''|
I introduce myself, Cheng Lai'Suki, translator and restorer of this book. A few years ago, when my friend Vao and I were crossing the [[Witherings]] on our way to [[Aeden Aqueous]], a lucky fall led us to discover a hideout tucked away in an air pocket between two thick roots. The place was very roughly furnished with shelves, a desk and a small bed. Several objects were also strewn about the floor, including many books. Among these, one particularly intrigued me: ''The Sacred War'', by Belenor Nebius. It was an old and battered collection, written in the ancient [[Zorai]] dialect<ref>The texts narrating this discovery are available on the [https://app.ryzom.com/app_forum/index.php?page=topic/view/28654/ ROLEPLAY forum]</ref>. We also found a dagger with a finely chiseled black blade, and a set of seven orange dice, with between four and twenty sides that were not numbered, but engraved with fine intersecting lines.

For the next few months, I studied the book. It told a story from another time. It was a story set in the [[Old Lands]] more than a hundred years ago, after the kitins' [[Great Swarming]] had ravaged them and forced the people who lived there to flee to the lands we now occupy. This story was the story of the Black Mask, who in the wake of the devastation and his encounter with the Great Progenitor, gathered survivors and began the Sacred War against the [[Karavan]] and its minions.

Although I have never been able to authenticate the historical content of this story, the author of the story has been answering questions that obsessed us, me and so many others since our childhood. Unfortunately, as you know, today's civilizations have little knowledge of the Old Lands, most of the information about them having been lost during the Great Swarm. Every document from that time is therefore a valuable source of knowledge. However, this epic tale, because of its setting, could just as well be a fictionalized account. After all, how can one take seriously the story of a black-masked Zorai, who traveled for a time in the company of the terrible [[Marauders]], and who, invested with [[Kami|kamic]] powers, exterminated the faithful and the agents of the Karavan still present on these lands ravaged by the kitins?

No matter, such is the answer. Themes such as family, relation to faith, free will, and the search for our origins have moved me deeply in the story of the Sacred War. I am glad to have found this book, and I hope that by sealing its contents in an amber cube and depositing it in the Temple of Knowledge, many people will will be caught up by Belenor Nebius' tale, as I was. If it is possible that some decide to make this heretical text disappear, know that I remain in possession of the original manuscript.

I dedicate this work of restoration to the Sages, who will forever delude themselves, and to the disbanded guild of the ''Rôdeurs d'[[Atys]]'', which I know to have been linked to this story in some way.}}

=='''Table of contents'''==
:<big><big>'''Volume I - Crossed Destinies'''</big></big>

::<big>'''''The child soldier'''''</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter I - A Fate Paved with Glory]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter II - Brotherhood]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter III - Dying to Be Reborn]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter IV - Sylvan Exile]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter V - The Seed of Doubt]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter VI - The Awakening]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter VII - Slaying and Polishing]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter VIII - Lies]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter IX - Solitude]]</big>

::<big>'''''The children of the Empire'''''</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter X - Heroes]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter XI - The Generation of Miracles]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter XII - Family]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter XIII - The Desert of a Hundred Perils]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter XIV - Savagery]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter XV - Powers]]</big>
:::<big>[[Chapter XVI - Civilizations]]</big>

:<big><big>'''Volume II'''</big></big>
:<big><big>(to come)</big></big>

=='''Acknowledgements''' (non diegetic)<ref>See also post at the [https://app.ryzom.com/app_forum/index.php?page=post/view/206739 OFFICIAL NEWS forum].</ref>==

{{Quotation|''The author''|
Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed the proofs of this first book: Nolwen, Anaïs, Catherine, Nilstilar, Drumel, Namcha, Tamarea. Thanks to your advice and encouragement, I have been able to turn a hobby into something more. Big thanks to Tamarea, and especially to Nilstilar, passionate advisor and proofreader, who helped me enrich my writing style and pushed me to never give up. Thanks to Winch Gate, of course, without whom this book could never have ended up in your hands. Finally, thanks to Nicolas for introducing me to Ryzom, thanks to the players I've met over the years, and thanks to the Rangers of Atys, whose legends and myths inspired this story. I am thinking in particular of Kalchek, whom I never had the chance to meet, and of Damakian and Kalbatcha, who managed to pass on the flame to me. "Never forget", they kept saying. Know that I have never forgotten.
So once again, thank you all. I could never have made it without you.}}
 
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{{Portal|The Great Library}}
[[Category:Literature]][[Category:History]]

Chapter I·I - A Fate Paved with Glory

2022-06-24T22:40:10Z

Acridiel:

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<center><big><big><big><big>'''I - A Fate Paved with Glory'''</big></big></big></big></center> 
<center><big><big>'''Jena Year 2464'''</big></big></center>

{{Quotation|''Belenor Nebius, narrator'' • ''Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator''|
The toddler opened his eyes and gurgled. Waving his chubby little arms, he searched with his clumsy fingertips for the rag doll that had been sharing his nights since he was born. Not finding it, he squirmed to extract himself from his cocoon of sheets, and grabbed the protective bars of his little crib to stand up tall. Like on so many mornings before, he found the doll lying on the floor, gazing up at him with a disappointed look. Unhappy to have been inadvertently pushed from the warm and cozy nest thy shared. He was struggling to join her, trying some clumsy acrobatics, when the drape of the room he was in opened. Each morning he beheld the same apparition. He never got tired of his mother's incredible beauty. Totally forgetting his doll, he flapped his arms, laughing, eager to again be with the one who was torn from him every night by his father. Behind her tattooed mask, the [[Zorai]] gave him a smile and murmured some words. Even though he didn't understand her words, her voice was the most beautiful melody he knew.

:''"Good morning, my darling. Another restless night, I see."

She approached the crib, picked up the doll then held out her arms to him. The boy, who was already stomping his linens with impatience, mimicked her gesture and squealed with delight when his mother grabbed him by the waist and held him aloft. She twirled him through the air for a few seconds then put her bony forehead against his still pristine one, finally lowering him down to her heart where she held him tight.

:''"Today is a great day for you Pü. Mom believes in you. Like your brother, the destiny awaiting you is paved with glory."

The toddler immediately calmed down at the touch of his mother's mask and blue skin. She tasted so good. She smelled so good. She was so soft. Opening his mouth, he ran his tongue over the warm flesh to catch the sweet scent of his mother's sweat. While heading towards the main room of the house, the Zorai extracted one of her voluptuous breasts from her tunic made of soft fibers, which she gently presented to her son. The little boy did not need any encouragement. He grabbed the soft curve with both hands, while his mouth latched onto the dark patch of skin which nourished him every day.

The dwelling of Pü and his family consisted of a large circular hut, which contained the main room, and two smaller huts flanking the large one, which housed the parent's room in which Pü slept and his older brother's room. The foundation of these accommodations had mainly been constructed of soft woods, vines and various large leaves selected for their waterproofing abilities. After Grandmother Bä-Bä's, this dwelling was the most imposing in the tribe. In the center of the main room was the family table, on which a vast amount of varied food rested. Around the table, Pü's father and brother were eating in silence. Pü stared at the two [[homins]] in succession, still sucking on his mother's breast.
[[file:His big black.png|right|400px|alt=His big black mask was scaring him...|His big black mask was scaring him...]]
He guessed a smile under the mouth slit of his brother's [[The Zorai Mask|mask]]. He wasn't yet used to seeing him like this. Until recently, the older boy's face had been naked still and regularly displayed peculiar grimaces that had no other purpose than to make his little brother laugh. But when the boy grew to be twelve years old, a horned mask had grown too. Pü loved his big brother Niï very much. He tickled Pü, played with him, and showed him incredible acrobatic choreographies which plunged the little Zoraï in a state of overexcitement and which had a knack for annoying their mother.

His father did not look at him and kept eating in silence. Pü didn't know what to think of him. '''His big black mask was scaring him''', and he didn't remember ever having guessed a smile behind it. Moreover, he had already seen him behaving harshly with his brother, lounging at he boy violently with sharp objects that Niï nevertheless managed to dodge. He had also on several occasions caught him abusing his mother in the parental bed. Firmly seizing her hair, grabbing her wrists, crushing her with his powerful musculature, and even giving her at times slaps on the lower part of the body, while she muffled her screams in the cushions.

Yet neither his brother nor his mother seemed to resent the big Zorai. His brother seemed to keep regarding his father up as a role model, and his mother always ended their nightly brawls with tender strokes that Pü was jealous of, looking at them from his crib. He definitely did not understand. And warily, he preferred his father to continue to ignore him, while his mother and brother were busy bringing him love and laughter.

Lunch continued in silence until his father spoke up.

:''"Niï, quickly finish lunch and go prepare our formal wear, please. Meanwhile, your mother will dress Pü for the ceremony. Also, make sure our weapons are properly oiled."

The young Zorai grabbed a last handful of dried fruit in a hurry, stood up, and bowed to his father.

:''"I readied our weapons last night before bedtime, Father. And I'll get our outfits ready straightaway."

His Father answered him by slightly inclining his head, then refocused on the contents of his plate. At the same time, his mother got up and took Pü off her breast. The little one, already full, did not flinch but continued to cling to her exposed flesh to maintain contact. She proceeded to change his night soiled swaddling for a prettily braided panty. About ten minutes passed and the family was ready to leave.
{{Couillard}}
Pü squinted as his mother came out of the hut. Despite his tribe having settled in the gigantic stump of a felled sky-tree, the bark ceiling, badly damaged, let in a few rays of sunshine in at certain times of the day. One of which had just found the eye of the little Zorai, who took refuge between his mother's breasts. In the absence of true celestial light, the community had taken to illuminating its dwelling with lamps containing fireflies.
Although some might have described the atmosphere as gloomy, Pü loved it when his mother took him for a walk trough the sloping and winding streets or on the suspension bridges that connected the different levels of the small city. The village, much higher than it was wide, was built vertically. The dwellings were located on the heights, while the lower levels were reserved for communal areas, such as stores, places of worship, the dojo, and the dining hall. Pü loved the dining hall. The other Zorais were very kind to him and he had tasted nice food there. Yet this time, the toddler sensed that the walk was anything but ordinary. Other members of the tribe were present in great numbers, forming a path from the family hut to the village heights. All wore their black ceremonial dress, consisting of a loincloth of vegetal fibers, a wide belt of braided straw but especially recognizable by the imposing white amber lens that adorned each of their solar plexuses. As the family moved forward, led by Pü's mother, the people bowed deferentially and joined the group. The toddler, full and lulled by his mother's walk, dozed off into a light sleep. As this scene suggested, his family was no ordinary family.

Looï Fu-Tao, Pü's mother, worked outside the village as a diplomat. She was In charge of maintaining relations with the Zorai Theocracy, the political regime that had governed the country for almost three centuries, whose headquarters were located in [[Zoran]], its capital. For some forty years, the Great Sage [[Min-Cho]] had been the highest homin authority in the Theocracy, who, assisted by the Council of Sages, ruled the [[Jungle]], the native country of the Zorai people. While the Sages hoped that the members of the "Cursed Strain Tribe" – as they liked to name it – would eventually accept the authority of the Theocracy, nothing helped. It had been several generations since the tribe had seceded, and things didn't look like they were about to change. But Looï was not only a diplomat. In the village, she was first and foremost the High Priestess of the Black Cult of [[Ma-Duk]], the depository of religious authority.
[[file:Sang Fu-Tao was.png|left|400px|alt=Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask|Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask]]
Her husband '''Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask''', the First Warrior, military chief of the tribe. A few months after his birth, Niï, their eldest son, had been promised a great destiny by Grandmother Bä-Bä, the witch and seer of the village. According to the prophecy, Niï Fu-Tao would someday succeed his father as the Black Mask, and above all, would become the Sacred Warrior. Elected by Ma-Duk the Great Progenitor, Niï Fu-Tao would be send out into the world, converting the lost to the True Faith, subduing the atheists and exterminating the heretics. For the Zorai Theocracy, this prophecy was precisely falling under heresy.

For the conflict that opposed the tribe to the rest of the country was first of all religious. Indeed, all Zorais worshipped the [[Kami|Kamis]], mysterious spiritual entities that protected the [[ecosystems]]. Able to change their appearance at will and to travel without physical constraint, these divine guardians permanently ensured that no one compromised the fragile balance of [[Atys]], the plant world where all were coexisting. Although discreet, they shared close relations with the homins, as long as those showed respect for nature. Among the different homin peoples, the Zorais were by far the most receptive to the magic of the Kamis. Already provided with a large size and a blue skin, which distinguished them from the rest of the hominity, a bony and horned mask grew on their face, down from their forehead, during their adolescence. This mask represented the true soul of its wearer and testified to the unique link he had with the Kamis. However, if every Zorai worshiped the Kamis, not everyone agreed on the identity of the Supreme Kami. For the majority of Zorais, the Kamis served [[Jena]], the Goddess of the Day Star and the Mother of Hominity. For the dissident tribe, Jena was an usurping goddess from the sky, alien to Atys and intending evil. According to them, the one and only Supreme Kami was Ma-Duk, meaning "Great Mask" in the Zorai language. He was the Great Progenitor, asleep in the depths of Atys. A god that no one recognized but them.

But the discordance did not end there. The Zorai Theocracy, which had become particularly isolationist in the last century, had built the Great Wall, a gigantic edifice protecting the borders of the Jungle from all foreign contact. However, this Great Wall had never prevented the Theocracy from maintaining relations with the [[Karavan]], a strange group of hominoids dressed from head to toe in amazing black armor and using prodigious instruments. These peculiar entities, whose true nature no one knew, lived in the skies of Atys. Equipped with a technology unknown to all, and traveling with curious vehicles capable of overcoming gravity, they crisscrossed the sky to spread the word and serve the interests of the goddess Jena. In exchange for their loyalty, the Karavan had given the Zorais the secrets of magnetism and electrostatic properties, and had also taught them to write. The Kamis abhorred the Karavan, and did not hesitate to make this known to the homins, but this never prevented the Council of Elders from accepting their gifts and to use Karavan knowledge to levitate the buildings of Zoran to this day. For the dissident tribe, as an apostle of Jena abhorred by the Kamis, the Karavan had to be seen as a serious threat and fought accordingly.

These theological divergences heated the minds of the Great Sage Min-Cho and his advisors, who were unable to accept any ideological criticism and made the dissident tribe want to wage holy war. But rather than attacking the tribe head-on, fearing the prowess of its soldiers and the mysterious powers of Grandmother Bä-Bä, the Zorai Theocracy made the tribe pass for a common pagan sect in the eyes of peoples of the Jungle. This had worked quite well up to this point.

For Pü Fu-Tao, the youngest child, who had just been awakened by the distant echo of a bird call, none of this held any interest yet. However, with his big black eyes, he gazed at the villagers with astonishment, aware that today something seemed different. Perhaps he knew, deep down, that something important was about to happen. When, recognizing the alleys between the huts, he understood that they were going to Grandmother Bä-Bä's house, his heart began to race. He did not like the old woman. Her gaunt mask frightened him, her odor stung his nose, and he had heard some associated her presence with illness.
Grandmother Bä-Bä was in fact also the village healer, whom people went to see to find solutions to their problems. Although the Fu-Tao couple represented the authority within the tribe, everyone knew that Grandmother Bä-Bä was actually the central pillar of the community. It was said that she was older than the oldest Zorai in the country and that she had helped deliver every member of the tribe.

When the column of people arrived at Grandmother Bä-Bä's huge hut at the highest point of the village, Pü, feeling tears welling up, clutched his mother's robe tightly. Looï put her forehead against his, which had the effect of reassuring him, and advanced towards the big hut, her son in her arms. The boy had just enough time to glance behind him to see his brother waving to him, before heavy curtains obstructed his vision and the characteristic smell of the dwelling reached his nose. In the back of the main room, Grandmother Bä-Bä was working over an amber stockpot. Despite her highly advanced age, she was surprisingly lively and agile, quickly pulling out various plants and roots from the multitude of pockets that made up her apron. Nothing suggested such vitality, however, as her livid, bony, dry body was crossed with deep wrinkles. Grandmother Bä-Bä was constantly postponing death, and everyone knew that she owed this to the powers granted to her by the Kamis.

:''"Come closer my daughter.”, she said in a cavernous voice, without looking at her guests. “Set your son on the altar, I will be ready soon."

Obediently, Looï walked over to a beautiful carved stump. When she gently placed her son on the firm surface, breaking the mother's touch, he started to cry.

:''"Don't comfort him, my daughter. Tears feed the predictions."

The young Zorai did not understand. No matter how much he called for her, his mother did not react, staring at him with a strange look on her masked face, bending over him. As Pü reached out, trying to grab his mother's long tresses, the old woman's hideous mask cut off eye contact. His tears redoubled.

:''"Hold him tight, and don't panic like you did with your first son. Everything will go well."

Grandmother Bä-Bä pulled a dagger with a finely engraved black blade from her apron and gently grabbed the young Zorai's hand. At the touch of the cracked skin, Pü shivered and began to struggle. Unfortunately for him, his mother would not let him, and held him tight. What had he done wrong? Why did he have to go through all this? As he felt like it could not get any worse, thIngs got much darker. The old lady put the blunt side of the weapon on his palm and closed his little fingers around the blade, one after the other. Then, all at once, she squeezed quickly and firmly.
Electrified by the pain, Pü started to scream, while his mother looked at him with a deadened air. All the while holding him immobile.
He loved her so much and had always thought that she loved him too. But now she left him at the mercy of this witch, and took part in his abuse! What was happening?

:''"Its almost over. I just have to collect the precious liquid. Don't try to calm him down, pain will strengthen the blood."

The old woman placed the dagger on the altar and retrieved a small leather purse from her apron. One by one, she took out seven strange, orange dice, which she wet on the bloody blade. Once the last relic was blessed with blood, she softly sang a few ritualistic words. The strange, dark symbols engraved on the dice's amber faces seemed to absorb all light in the hut. The amber around them coming to fiery life.
Pü stopped crying, hypnotized by the terrifying spectacle unfolding before his eyes. The witch threw the dice with great force and without hesitation upon the altar. They did not stop rolling around the smooth surface, their orange glow and black shadows painting moving scenes onto the walls of the hut. Like living frescoes that told a story.

Pü beheld a circle of homins and Kamis, dancing on the circular walls of the hut. He could almost hear them singing.
Suddenly the Kamis turned into gigantic maws and devoured a large part of the homins, who were trying in vain to fight back.
The scene then focused on the survivors of the macabre dance, who, led by a Zorai, climbed a mountain of corpses. Although the slope became steeper with each step, new homins joined the group and supported their climb.
Finally, once he had reached the top, the warrior brandished his sword towards the sky and shattered the star that was sitting there. At the same time, the dice stopped moving and gave the light back to the hut.

Grandmother Bä-Bä took a long look at Looï without uttering a word. The Zorai Priestess bent over her son and gently took hold of him.
Pü, whose mind seemed to dwell on distant happenings, regained contact with reality the moment his mother held him to her chest. His trial was over, she still loved him.
He fell asleep on the spot.
[[file:Carefully avoided meeting.png|right|400px|alt=carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband|carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband]]
:''"You know what you have to tell them, my daughter,"'' the old homina finally said without taking her eyes off Looï.

Taking a few steps forward, she placed a finger on the child's mutilated hand. The wound closed immediately.

:''"From now on, your son's future, and perhaps the future of all hominkind, depends on your lie. It is a necessary evil. Never forget."

:''"I know, Grandmother… Thank you for everything,"'' she whispered, her voice trembling.

Feverishly, Looï kissed her son on the cheek, and walked towards the exit of the hut, clutching him to her heart. In his sleep, Pü could feel its strong beat.
Pushing aside the curtains as she stepped forward, she faced her people. Each member of the tribe stared at her with a heavy gaze, waiting for the verdict. She '''carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband''', and above all, that of her first son. Clearing her throat a little, she then spoke up.

:''"Grandmother Bä-Bä has thrown the dice! Today I have the great honor of announcing the predictions she made on the occasion of the first birthday of my second son, Pü Fu-Tao.
While Niï, the future Black Mask, will become the Sacred Warrior, going all the way to heaven to destroy the Karavan and Jena, Pü will assist him throughout his journey! He will be his Shadow, who will advise him at every moment and will not hesitate to sacrifice his life to protect him! Praise be to my sons! Praise be to Ma-Duk! Tonight we will hold a feast to the glory of the Sacred War and the coming of the Happy Days!"

An unrivaled cheer ran through the assembly. Waking up with a start, Pü swept the crowd with his gaze. Which stopped sharply on his father's black mask. The little Zorai opened his eyes wide in amazement; for the first time, he saw a smile on his fathers face.

}}
{{NavChap|[[The Sacred War]] |[[The Sacred War#Table of contents|Table of contents]]|[[Chapter II - Brotherhood]]}}
 
{{Portal|The Great Library|Zoraï}}
[[Category:The Sacred War|Ch 1]]

Chapter I·I - A Fate Paved with Glory

2022-06-24T21:55:21Z

Acridiel:

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<center><big><big><big><big>'''I - A Fate Paved with Glory'''</big></big></big></big></center> 
<center><big><big>'''Jena Year 2464'''</big></big></center>

{{Quotation|''Belenor Nebius, narrator'' • ''Cheng Lai'SuKi, illustrator''|
The toddler opened his eyes and gurgled. Waving his chubby little arms, he searched with his clumsy fingertips for the rag doll that had been sharing his nights since he was born. Not finding it, he squirmed to extract himself from his cocoon of sheets, and grabbed the protective bars of his little crib to stand up tall. Like on so many mornings before, he found the doll lying on the floor, gazing up at him with a disappointed look. Unhappy to have been inadvertently pushed from the warm and cozy nest thy shared. He was struggling to join her, trying some clumsy acrobatics, when the drape of the room he was in opened. Each morning he beheld the same apparition. He never got tired of his mother's incredible beauty. Totally forgetting his doll, he flapped his arms, laughing, eager to again be with the one who was torn from him every night by his father. Behind her tattooed mask, the [[Zorai]] gave him a smile and murmured some words. Even though he didn't understand her words, her voice was the most beautiful melody he knew.

:''"Good morning, my darling. Another restless night, I see."

She approached the crib, picked up the doll then held out her arms to him. The boy, who was already stomping his linens with impatience, mimicked her gesture and squealed with delight when his mother grabbed him by the waist and held him aloft. She twirled him through the air for a few seconds then put her bony forehead against his still pristine one, finally lowering him down to her heart where she held him tight.

:''"Today is a great day for you Pü. Mom believes in you. Like your brother, the destiny awaiting you is paved with glory."

The toddler immediately calmed down at the touch of his mother's mask and blue skin. She tasted so good. She smelled so good. She was so soft. Opening his mouth, he ran his tongue over the warm flesh to catch the sweet scent of his mother's sweat. While heading towards the main room of the house, the Zorai extracted one of her voluptuous breasts from her tunic made of soft fibers, which she gently presented to her son. The little boy did not need any encouragement. He grabbed the soft curve with both hands, while his mouth latched onto the dark patch of skin which nourished him every day.

The dwelling of Pü and his family consisted of a large circular hut, which contained the main room, and two smaller huts flanking the large one, which housed the parent's room in which Pü slept and his older brother's room. The foundation of these accommodations had mainly been constructed of soft woods, vines and various large leaves selected for their waterproofing abilities. After Grandmother Bä-Bä's, this dwelling was the most imposing in the tribe. In the center of the main room was the family table, on which a vast amount of varied food rested. Around the table, Pü's father and brother were eating in silence. Pü stared at the two [[homins]] in succession, still sucking on his mother's breast.
[[file:His big black.png|right|400px|alt=His big black mask was scaring him...|His big black mask was scaring him...]]
He guessed a smile under the mouth slit of his brother's [[The Zorai Mask|mask]]. He wasn't yet used to seeing him like this. Until recently, the older boy's face had been naked still and regularly displayed peculiar grimaces that had no other purpose than to make his little brother laugh. But when the boy grew to be twelve years old, a horned mask had grown too. Pü loved his big brother Niï very much. He tickled Pü, played with him, and showed him incredible acrobatic choreographies which plunged the little Zoraï in a state of overexcitement and which had a knack for annoying their mother.

His father did not look at him and kept eating in silence. Pü didn't know what to think of him. '''His big black mask was scaring him''', and he didn't remember ever having guessed a smile behind it. Moreover, he had already seen him behaving harshly with his brother, lounging at he boy violently with sharp objects that Niï nevertheless managed to dodge. He had also on several occasions caught him abusing his mother in the parental bed. Firmly seizing her hair, grabbing her wrists, crushing her with his powerful musculature, and even giving her at times slaps on the lower part of the body, while she muffled her screams in the cushions.

Yet neither his brother nor his mother seemed to resent the big Zorai. His brother seemed to keep regarding his father up as a role model, and his mother always ended their nightly brawls with tender strokes that Pü was jealous of, looking at them from his crib. He definitely did not understand. And warily, he preferred his father to continue to ignore him, while his mother and brother were busy bringing him love and laughter.

Lunch continued in silence until his father spoke up.

:''"Niï, quickly finish lunch and go prepare our formal wear, please. Meanwhile, your mother will dress Pü for the ceremony. Also, make sure our weapons are properly oiled."

The young Zorai grabbed a last handful of dried fruit in a hurry, stood up, and bowed to his father.

:''"I readied our weapons last night before bedtime, Father. And I'll get our outfits ready straightaway."

His Father answered him by slightly inclining his head, then refocused on the contents of his plate. At the same time, his mother got up and took Pü off her breast. The little one, already full, did not flinch but continued to cling to her exposed flesh to maintain contact. She proceeded to change his night soiled swaddling for a prettily braided panty. About ten minutes passed and the family was ready to leave.
{{Couillard}}
Pü squinted as his mother came out of the hut. Despite his tribe having settled in the gigantic stump of a felled sky-tree, the bark ceiling, badly damaged, let in a few rays of sunshine in at certain times of the day. One of which had just found the eye of the little Zorai, who took refuge between his mother's breasts. In the absence of true celestial light, the community had taken to illuminating its dwelling with lamps containing fireflies.
Although some might have described the atmosphere as gloomy, Pü loved it when his mother took him for a walk trough the sloping and winding streets or on the suspension bridges that connected the different levels of the small city. The village, much higher than it was wide, was built vertically. The dwellings were located on the heights, while the lower levels were reserved for communal areas, such as stores, places of worship, the dojo, and the dining hall. Pü loved the dining hall. The other Zorais were very kind to him and he had tasted nice food there. Yet this time, the toddler sensed that the walk was anything but ordinary. Other members of the tribe were present in great numbers, forming a path from the family hut to the village heights. All wore their black ceremonial dress, consisting of a loincloth of vegetal fibers, a wide belt of braided straw but especially recognizable by the imposing white amber lens that adorned each of their solar plexuses. As the family moved forward, led by Pü's mother, the people bowed deferentially and joined the group. The toddler, full and lulled by his mother's walk, dozed off into a light sleep. As this scene suggested, his family was no ordinary family.

Looï Fu-Tao, Pü's mother, worked outside the village as a diplomat. She was In charge of maintaining relations with the Zorai Theocracy, the political regime that had governed the country for almost three centuries, whose headquarters were located in [[Zoran]], its capital. For some forty years, the Great Sage [[Min-Cho]] had been the highest homin authority in the Theocracy, who, assisted by the Council of Sages, ruled the [[Jungle]], the native country of the Zorai people. While the Sages hoped that the members of the "Cursed Strain Tribe" – as they liked to name it – would eventually accept the authority of the Theocracy, nothing helped. It had been several generations since the tribe had seceded, and things didn't look like they were about to change. But Looï was not only a diplomat. In the village, she was first and foremost the High Priestess of the Black Cult of [[Ma-Duk]], the depository of religious authority.
[[file:Sang Fu-Tao was.png|left|400px|alt=Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask|Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask]]
Her husband '''Sang Fu-Tao was the Black Mask''', the First Warrior, military chief of the tribe. A few months after his birth, Niï, their eldest son, had been promised a great destiny by Grandmother Bä-Bä, the witch and seer of the village. According to the prophecy, Niï Fu-Tao would someday succeed his father as the Black Mask, and above all, would become the Sacred Warrior. Elected by Ma-Duk the Great Genitor, Niï Fu-Tao would be send out into the world, converting the lost to the True Faith, subduing the atheists and exterminating the heretics. For the Zorai Theocracy, this prophecy was precisely falling under heresy.

For the conflict that opposed the tribe to the rest of the country was first of all religious. Indeed, all Zorais worshipped the [[Kami|Kamis]], mysterious spiritual entities that protected the [[ecosystems]]. Able to change their appearance at will and to travel without physical constraint, these divine guardians permanently ensured that no one compromised the fragile balance of [[Atys]], the plant world where all were coexisting. Although discreet, they shared close relations with the homins, as long as those showed respect for nature. Among the different homin peoples, the Zorais were by far the most receptive to the magic of the Kamis. Already provided with a large size and a blue skin, which distinguished them from the rest of the hominity, a bony and horned mask grew on their face, down from their forehead, during their adolescence. This mask represented the true soul of its wearer and testified to the unique link he had with the Kamis. However, if every Zorai worshiped the Kamis, not everyone agreed on the identity of the Supreme Kami. For the majority of Zorais, the Kamis served [[Jena]], the Goddess of the Day Star and the Mother of Hominity. For the dissident tribe, Jena was an usurping goddess from the sky, alien to Atys and intending evil. According to them, the one and only Supreme Kami was Ma-Duk, meaning "Great Mask" in the Zorai language. He was the Great Genitor, asleep in the depths of Atys. A god that no one recognized but them.

But the discordance did not end there. The Zorai Theocracy, which had become particularly isolationist in the last century, had built the Great Wall, a gigantic edifice protecting the borders of the Jungle from all foreign contact. However, this Great Wall had never prevented the Theocracy from maintaining relations with the [[Karavan]], a strange group of hominoids dressed from head to toe in amazing black armor and using prodigious instruments. These peculiar entities, whose true nature no one knew, lived in the skies of Atys. Equipped with a technology unknown to all, and traveling with curious vehicles capable of overcoming gravity, they crisscrossed the sky to spread the word and serve the interests of the goddess Jena. In exchange for their loyalty, the Karavan had given the Zorais the secrets of magnetism and electrostatic properties, and had also taught them to write. The Kamis abhorred the Karavan, and did not hesitate to make this known to the homins, but this never prevented the Council of Elders from accepting their gifts and to use Karavan knowledge to levitate the buildings of Zoran to this day. For the dissident tribe, as an apostle of Jena abhorred by the Kamis, the Karavan had to be seen as a serious threat and fought accordingly.

These theological divergences heated the minds of the Great Sage Min-Cho and his advisors, who were unable to accept any ideological criticism and made the dissident tribe want to wage holy war. But rather than attacking the tribe head-on, fearing the prowess of its soldiers and the mysterious powers of Grandmother Bä-Bä, the Zorai Theocracy made the tribe pass for a common pagan sect in the eyes of peoples of the Jungle. This had worked quite well up to this point.

For Pü Fu-Tao, the youngest child, who had just been awakened by the distant echo of a bird call, none of this held any interest yet. However, with his big black eyes, he gazed at the villagers with astonishment, aware that today something seemed different. Perhaps he knew, deep down, that something important was about to happen. When, recognizing the alleys between the huts, he understood that they were going to Grandmother Bä-Bä's house, his heart began to race. He did not like the old woman. Her gaunt mask frightened him, her odor stung his nose, and he had heard some associated her presence with illness.
Grandmother Bä-Bä was in fact also the village healer, whom people went to see to find solutions to their problems. Although the Fu-Tao couple represented the authority within the tribe, everyone knew that Grandmother Bä-Bä was actually the central pillar of the community. It was said that she was older than the oldest Zorai in the country and that she had helped deliver every member of the tribe.

When the column of people arrived at Grandmother Bä-Bä's huge hut at the highest point of the village, Pü, feeling tears welling up, clutched his mother's robe tightly. Looï put her forehead against his, which had the effect of reassuring him, and advanced towards the big hut, her son in her arms. The boy had just enough time to glance behind him to see his brother waving to him, before heavy curtains obstructed his vision and the characteristic smell of the dwelling reached his nose. In the back of the main room, Grandmother Bä-Bä was working over an amber stockpot. Despite her highly advanced age, she was surprisingly lively and agile, quickly pulling out various plants and roots from the multitude of pockets that made up her apron. Nothing suggested such vitality, however, as her livid, bony, dry body was crossed with deep wrinkles. Grandmother Bä-Bä was constantly postponing death, and everyone knew that she owed this to the powers granted to her by the Kamis.

:''"Come closer my daughter.”, she said in a cavernous voice, without looking at her guests. “Set your son on the altar, I will be ready soon."

Obediently, Looï walked over to a beautiful carved stump. When she gently placed her son on the firm surface, breaking the mother's touch, he started to cry.

:''"Don't comfort him, my daughter. Tears feed the predictions."

The young Zorai did not understand. No matter how much he called for her, his mother did not react, staring at him with a strange look on her masked face, bending over him. As Pü reached out, trying to grab his mother's long tresses, the old woman's hideous mask cut off eye contact. His tears redoubled.

:''"Hold him tight, and don't panic like you did with your first son. Everything will go well."

Grandmother Bä-Bä pulled a dagger with a finely engraved black blade from her apron and gently grabbed the young Zorai's hand. At the touch of the cracked skin, Pü shivered and began to struggle. Unfortunately for him, his mother would not let him, and held him tight. What had he done wrong? Why did he have to go through all this? As he felt like it could not get any worse, thIngs got much darker. The old lady put the blunt side of the weapon on his palm and closed his little fingers around the blade, one after the other. Then, all at once, she squeezed quickly and firmly.
Electrified by the pain, Pü started to scream, while his mother looked at him with a deadened air. All the while holding him immobile.
He loved her so much and had always thought that she loved him too. But now she left him at the mercy of this witch, and took part in his abuse! What was happening?

:''"Its almost over. I just have to collect the precious liquid. Don't try to calm him down, pain will strengthen the blood."

The old woman placed the dagger on the altar and retrieved a small leather purse from her apron. One by one, she took out seven strange, orange dice, which she wet on the bloody blade. Once the last relic was blessed with blood, she softly sang a few ritualistic words. The strange, dark symbols engraved on the dice's amber faces seemed to absorb all light in the hut. The amber around them coming to fiery life.
Pü stopped crying, hypnotized by the terrifying spectacle unfolding before his eyes. The witch threw the dice with great force and without hesitation upon the altar. They did not stop rolling around the smooth surface, their orange glow and black shadows painting moving scenes onto the walls of the hut. Like living frescoes that told a story.

Pü beheld a circle of homins and Kamis, dancing on the circular walls of the hut. He could almost hear them singing.
Suddenly the Kamis turned into gigantic maws and devoured a large part of the homins, who were trying in vain to fight back.
The scene then focused on the survivors of the macabre dance, who, led by a Zorai, climbed a mountain of corpses. Although the slope became steeper with each step, new homins joined the group and supported their climb.
Finally, once he had reached the top, the warrior brandished his sword towards the sky and shattered the star that was sitting there. At the same time, the dice stopped moving and gave the light back to the hut.

Grandmother Bä-Bä took a long look at Looï without uttering a word. The Zorai Priestess bent over her son and gently took hold of him.
Pü, whose mind seemed to dwell on distant happenings, regained contact with reality the moment his mother held him to her chest. His trial was over, she still loved him.
He fell asleep on the spot.
[[file:Carefully avoided meeting.png|right|400px|alt=carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband|carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband]]
:''"You know what you have to tell them, my daughter,"'' the old homina finally said without taking her eyes off Looï.

Taking a few steps forward, she placed a finger on the child's mutilated hand. The wound closed immediately.

:''"From now on, your son's future, and perhaps the future of all hominkind, depends on your lie. It is a necessary evil. Never forget."

:''"I know, Grandmother… Thank you for everything,"'' she whispered, her voice trembling.

Feverishly, Looï kissed her son on the cheek, and walked towards the exit of the hut, clutching him to her heart. In his sleep, Pü could feel its strong beat.
Pushing aside the curtains as she stepped forward, she faced her people. Each member of the tribe stared at her with a heavy gaze, waiting for the verdict. She '''carefully avoided meeting the gaze of her husband''', and above all, that of her first son. Clearing her throat a little, she then spoke up.

:''"Grandmother Bä-Bä has thrown the dice! Today I have the great honor of announcing the predictions she made on the occasion of the first birthday of my second son, Pü Fu-Tao.
While Niï, the future Black Mask, will become the Sacred Warrior, going all the way to heaven to destroy the Karavan and Jena, Pü will assist him throughout his journey! He will be his Shadow, who will advise him at every moment and will not hesitate to sacrifice his life to protect him! Praise be to my sons! Praise be to Ma-Duk! Tonight we will hold a feast to the glory of the Sacred War and the coming of the Happy Days!"

An unrivaled cheer ran through the assembly. Waking up with a start, Pü swept the crowd with his gaze. Which stopped sharply on his father's black mask. The little Zorai opened his eyes wide in amazement; for the first time, he saw a smile on his fathers face.

}}
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[[Category:The Sacred War|Ch 1]]