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Race: Ethaefal/Jamoura Sex: Male Age/Fall Date: 237/Winter, 277 AV
Appearance
Look at me... what do you see?
Mortal Seeming
When Leth begins to fall and his lover rules the skies, once more does Thrall take on the appearance of his mortal form. A form that while he does not hate, he can never be said to fully accept it either. Under Syna's radiance Thrall stands at a strong eight feet tall with wide, sloping shoulders. The fur that covers the jamoura's body from head to foot is a darker brown, close to black, with patches of silvery white over his shoulder blades and down his back. Large, well muscled, Thrall realizes that his form could be frightening, or threaten to those around. Despite this he does little to hide himself, feeling that if he must live in this terribly weak mortal existence then those around him should equally grow to accept him as how he is, not how they might wish him to be. His eyes are a rich brown color, deep and intelligent like those of his race, or rather his mortal race, often are.
Divine Seeming
When cloaked by Leth's glow Thrall once more feels his connection with the divine realm flourish, though it is not what it used to be. When he fell that winter so long ago, Thrall lost his faith in his patron god, and so he has become one of the Fallen. His features are frozen in place as they were on the night of his decent. Tall, thin body standing a little shorter than his mortal seaming at seven and a half feet, hair white as the freshly fallen snow of the north, and horns black as the night sky from which he fell. His silver eyes look out at the world like an adult might look at a child's playground. Amusing, but certainly not the place for one such as he. Some would call him beautiful, but Thrall would disagree for what he is now is far, far from the beauty that he has known.
Last edited by Thrall on January 6th, 2015, 5:30 am, edited 3 times in total.
While an Ethaefal may not physically 'fall' from the grace of their divine protector, for some there is a form of falling which comes from the pain and trials of living in a world that is not your own. When Thrall found himself cast out from his divine home he was torn, distraught and filled with such anger and feelings of betrayal that, for a time, he felt as though he would go mad. He would ask himself, "how could he have done this to me?" "why have I been abandoned?" Crushing agony that might have destroyed a mortal man crippled a once devoutly faithful creature, and in the face of this loss Thrall did only what he could do... He abandoned his faith in a god who abandoned him, and it took many years to bring himself to where he is at today.
A blessing in disguise came in Thrall's mortal form. On that first day when his divine form shed itself to reveal the furry Jamoura beneath Thrall felt that all was truly lost... but then the old calm and wisdom from one of the most long lived of all mizahar's races brought him a peace of mind of sorts. He found that during the day, even though he could not think as he could at night, during Syna's reign he was able to explore other avenues to keep his sanity. With a jamoura's ability to patiently sit and ponder Thrall slowly began to work through his pain, spending days, even weeks in meditation only to move in the day when he had to eat, sleep or do other things mortals had to do. A struggle to be sure, but over time Thrall was able to overcome his grief and begin to focus on what was going on in the here and now. Never could he say that he forgave Leth, but eventually he came to realize that the god was note to blame, not really. Thrall knows he does not hate Leth, he does not blame Leth any longer for his falling from the higher plain. Simply put he has come to accept that at times things will happen for no reason that can be precised, but still what faith the Ethaefal had in his divine father above was shriveled to nothing. Now Thrall sees Leth only as another deity, one who is necessary, but not one whom he can follow blindly any longer.
Separated was he from the feelings of anger, regret and grief, Thrall came to accept his new fate for what it was, inevitable. He was cast into the mortal world to walk it till the end of his days, when he would once more be greeted by Dira and shepherd on to the cycle once more. Somehow that gave him strength, comfort to know that even as he was now the Ethaefal still could fit into the cycle of the world. Everything that happened happened for some reason or another, and everything had its place. People did violent things to satisfy one desire or another. This then would lead others to one day seek revenge, beginning a cycle of blood, desire and vengeance over and over again. This was how the mortal world seemed to work, and as he traveled Thrall saw that the mortals somehow felt themselves above the cycles of the world. They believed that they decided for themselves what did and did not happen, that they could not possibly be lead by any force other than their own greed, for indeed it was greed that Thrall saw as they greatest motivator. But with time, in the years he traveled and observed, he saw that certain principles of life always caught up with everyone, especially death. To many death was something to be feared, hated, and to run from, but for Thrall he knew that Death, just as with everything else in the world, was a simple part of the cycle. For every action someone committed there was a consequence, and for every person that lived eventually they would have to die. It was nothing to morn or grieve for, it was inevitable. It was unstoppable. It was the final end for every chapter in every book. Quietly at night, when he looked up at Leth high above, Thrall secretly wished dira would come to him and bring him back into the cycle. For what he was now was like a rock on the edge of the river, watching the world pass him by. Someone who cannot exist in the cycle of life then is surely someone who could appreciate its beauty and its purpose.
What I am today.
Thrall in the current season is a collection of all his past experiences and meditations. In his younger days he was an angry, resentful man who could not grasp why such terrible things happened and why he was put in this world. Now, however, Thrall has released such thoughts as he has come to peace with his existence. His personality does not show a dramatic shift between his Ethaefal state or his Jamoura form, as in both his is quiet and thoughtful, though perhaps his mind drifts far more often in his Divine seeming. Thrall is patient, rational but not without passion or compassion. He can still be angered, or saddened, but as the Jamoura are known to be such things rarely reveal themselves. He more often than not will take some time to come to any decision, the length of time it takes him however can be dependent upon the decision at hand. Were he able Thrall would take several days to think and ponder over every outcome before coming to a final decision, and in truth he cannot understand the rash actions of the young mortals around him.
Thrall likes to smile. He enjoys laughing, and talking with others. He believes in friendships that can last the ages, can travel between life times and beyond. He is a protector when he is called to be, a healer when he needs to be, a joker when he wants to be, but always he is himself. In the cycle of life to hide who you really are makes no sense to Thrall. Time and life are precious, it is best to use what you have while you have it so that, when Dira does come for you, you may leave with no regrets to your new life.
Religion
With Thralls fall from the home of his Divine Father, so went his deep faith and devotion to the God of the Moon. Feelings of rage and despair followed the man for years after his initial decent, but over time Thrall was able to find peace somewhat with his existence, though with this peace did not come a renewal of his faith in Leth. Thrall felt as though his time as a faithful follower of Leth had come to an end, and now with his return to the world he should then seek to return once more to the cycle. With this new way of thinking came new respect for life and the workings of the world, and especially for death which is an inevitable part of the cycle of Mizahar. Though his walks in life he has come to understand the necessity of death and the important role it plays in the well being of life itself. He recognizes that Death is neither good, nor evil. It simply is. It is an inevitable consequence of life, and nothing to be feared. It is merely the next step toward a new adventure. Thus he has fully embraced the concepts and teachings of Dira, and she has offered him Favor. Thrall walks this world not as a Fallen of Leth, but as one of Dira's Eiyons.
First Mark :
77th of Fall, 400 AV Location: Falyndar Jungle Wilds Time: Just before sunset
This was a world that continued to turn despite everything that stood within it. There was a natural order to things, something that could not be changed and should not. Everything had its time, and nothing could change this single most important fact. Not the mortals, not the mages, and not Thrall. Not that he would ever wish to. He had come to terms with this life he now lived. Gained some form of peace of mind of his place in the world, though that is not to say he was fully accepting of what had happened. Perhaps he never would be… but that was neither here nor there. For now Thrall had a purpose, a reason to keep on going.
“Stop your moving, you will only make it worse.” Thrall was wearing his mortal seeming, that of a Jamoura from the northern Spires. Large body, great strength and highly intelligent, the jamoura were a rarity in this part of the wild. For this Myrian that lay in a puddle of his own blood, however, it was perhaps the greatest fortune he could have asked for.
There was a conflict that went on here. The Myrians and the Dhani fought each other with such abandoned that Thrall was surprised that neither one nor the other was yet wiped out, though should they continue it was just a matter of time. Thrall did not understand the hatred that they held for one another, and he doubted that they even remembered where their own hatred stemmed from. For now though there was little to think about. Now Thrall would fulfill his purpose, one that he crafted for himself. The Myrian still insisted upon moving, squirming beneath the great jamoura’s gentle touch, and with a sigh Thrall gripped both of the Myrian’s wrists with one hand, gripping them tight and pilling them above the man’s head. He did the same to the man’s ankles, though with those he helped in place with a firm grip with his feet. With his superior strength Thrall held the man in place and bared his large teeth, growling just an inch from his face, “Be still or I will make you.”
The Myrian gulped, his face paling faster than even his copious blood flow should have allowed, and he grew still. Nodding his approval Thrall turned his attention to the man’s injuries. His free hand he ran over the Myrian’s abdomen, large fingers pressing here and there where the discoloration was beginning to blossom, “Three… maybe four broken ribs.” He whispered softly to himself. His fingers stopped at the true point of injury, a gash that stretched from under the man’s left arm and hooked under his left breast. The blood flowed freely, and releasing the Myrian’s hands he placed the now freed palm over the injury, applying pressure while he dug in his bag for cloth to begin binding the wound. The Myrian groaned at the pressure, but his color was fading fast and the sounds of protest were growing weaker as were his movements.
From the bag Thrall pulled bandages and his waterskin, using this to clean the wound to get a better look. Pouring the water over the wound, with feeble from the Myrian, as he wiped the wound clean, his expression darkening as he began to see the extent of the wound. It was clear, it was far beyond what he could heal. This man would soon breath his last.
Shifting himself Thrall released the man’s ankles, letting him move freely now as the Jamoura began the slow process of cleaning the wound. He wet the cloth and cleaned away the blood, stemming what he could and setting his bag behind the Myrian’s head to give him some comfort.
“What is your name?” Thrall asked softly as he worked, looking in the man’s eyes as he blinked slowly up at the dying light. The Myrian swallowed, closing his eyes as he groaned, “Z-Zala… Zala of the Slitted Throat…”
“Zala, a strong name. You have lived up to it today.” Thrall said, pressing his hand against the wound once more. He could feel the warm blood flowing from it, defying him in his attempt to slow the bleeding. Perhaps the wound struck his heart, or one of the arteries near it, and now with each beat more and more blood came gushing forward. Whatever the case Thrall knew that the time was coming, “You have done well, and done your people proud.”
Zala swallowed once more, and this time when his eyes opened they did not focus as quickly on Thrall’s, “Is… Z-zalla going to die…?” There was genuine uncertainty there, and fear. That was to be expected. For many the thought of death was terrifying, for it offered little certainty beyond the ending of one’s life. But that is not what it truly was.
“Yes, you will.” Thrall raised a finger to his lips, shushing the open protest that was coming from Zala’s throat, “Hush now, do not be afraid. There is nothing to be afraid of.”
“Zala is going to die. Zala don’t want to die.” The myrian closed his eyes, scrunching them tightly together as if in doing so he could block out the reality that loomed over him. He could feel his own strength beginning to fade. He was scared.
“I know Zala, I know.” Thrall adjusted his pack under the man’s head, pressing cloth against the wound now more to keep it from covering the man than to actually halt the bleeding, “It is your time. Dira, she will come for you soon.”
Zala shook his head, “No… no…”
Once more Thrall raised a finger to his lips to shush the man, “Do not fear what comes next. There is a natural order to the world, a cycle in which we all exist. You come to the end of your living cycle and now you will journey on to the next.”
“Family… t-they w-will,”
“Your family will grieve for a time, but they will honor your memory and know you have fought for the honor of your clan. It is time for you to rest. When Dira comes, go with her. She will lead you on to the next part of the cycle.”
“W-what… is…?” Zala’s eyes fluttered open as he searched for Thrall’s face, unable to find it.
“That I do not know my friend.” Thrall took the Myrian’s hand in his large ones, squeezing them gently in comfort as he smiled down at the quickly fading Myrian, “But I shall one day follow you, just as all living creatures must. Every man, woman and child. Every animal and plant. None are exempt from this, and none should fear it. It is inevitable, but it is not something to be feared.”
Zala opened his mouth as if to say something else, but no words came out. Just as the final rays of the sun passed below the horizon the man’s eyes opened to find Thrall once more. With the fall of Syna Leth’s domain began to take over the sky, and across Thralls body the shimmering glow of moonlight began to spread. The Myrian’s eyes widened as the large Jamoura disappeared in the sparkling light, replaced by a being who looked as though he were molded from moon beams himself. Black horns curved gently back over silvery white hair as soft silver eyes gazed down at Zala with compassion, “Do not be afraid.”
The last breath was now beginning to leave the man’s lungs, but somehow he did not seem quite so afraid. His eyes were transfixed on the man who seemed impossibly beautiful, who whispered soft words of encouragements. Then his eyes did not seem to see Thrall any longer and the whisper of his breath quieted. With two fingers the Ethaefal closed those lids so that it looked as though Zala might only be sleeping. Then softly under his breath he whispered, “May Dira guide you safely on to your next destination. Do not fear what is to come, for all shall be well.”
Thrall remained where he was for a chime or two longer, eyes closed as he continued his prayer, and then slowly he would gather his things, placing the waterskin and unused bandages back in his bag as he stood to his feet, brushing off the dirt that had collected on his clothing. He would need to take care of the blood stains soon as well, but that would require more effort than he was willing to put into it for the moment.
“Well done.” Thrall turned as he heard a woman’s voice, unexpected at this time of the day, and he could never have imagined what he saw next. A woman, tall and dressed in black with long black hair. Her bearing was queenly, strong and confident. She walked with a straight back, and her eyes were dark, intense and infinitely patient. Thrall did not focus long on the woman, however, for he noticed those who walked with her. On either side of her walked a jackal, one white, and one back. Both of the creatures eyed Thrall, and even in his divine form something about them made his skin prickle. But then, everything that he saw struck a cord of familiarity.
“It is not safe to be out in the jungle at night. You should find shelter.” Thrall hefted the bag on his shoulder, looking down at the Myrian’s body, “You should not seek to meet Dira before your time. She will come when it is right. Enjoy the time you have and be patient, unlike the Myrians and the Dhani who seem so eager to rush to their own end.”
“They do seem to be impatient don’t they, but who is to say that they have not died when it was their time?” The woman smiled, a look of amusement crossing her features as she pet the jackals at her side.
“I do not understand why either would choose to throw away that precious gift of life over hatred from ages past. I know that for everything there is a time when Dira shall come for them, yet I cannot help but feel that these unfortunate people’s call too loudly for her with their fighting.”
The woman with her companions came closer, the woman’s eyes looking down on Zala of the Slitted Throat as she asked softly, “Then do you think it is cruel for this man to have died in the name of his family? To have wasted his life and then fallen before his time?”
Thrall’s lips turned down and he looked sideways at this woman, and once more that feeling prickled the back of his neck before he looked away, “It is never a waste to live your life as you feel it should be lived. No one may decide for you what is, or is not, worth living and dying for. What is important, however, is to follow your own truth and belief in life so that when Dira comes you may leave this life without regrets and move on to the next, great adventure.”
“Do you think this Myrian lived a life how he wanted and left with no regrets?”
“He had thoughts only for his family who he would be leaving, but he did not seem to regret anything he had done in life…” Thrall shook his head, “Perhaps he did die with peace of mind, and maybe Dira heard both of our prayers and he is even now as we speak being carried on to his next destination.”
The woman smiled and laughed, folding her hands at her waist as she walked to the man’s other side, opposite of Thrall, “Do not worry. I did hear your prayers, and Zala of the Slitted Throat is already with Myri, preparing for what is to come.”
“What…?” Thrall blinked and looked up at the woman, and now the familiarity struck him once more, harder and stronger than before. The two jackals, the woman in all black traveling in the jungle at night. Her aura of confidence and power despite her surroundings. The realizations staggered the Ethaefal and he took a step back, eyes widening as he looked at Dira, surely like how Zala’s had when he looked at Thrall in his Divine form, “D-Dira…” Words seemed to fail him as his breath caught in his throat.
Dira’s smile stayed as she waited patiently for the Ethaefal to recover enough to suck in a new breath of air. Running his hands through his white hair Thrall squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them wide to stare at Dira as if he were trying to determine if what he saw was an illusion or not. Repeating this two, then three times the Ethaefal rubbed his eyes and blinked furiously, his eyes moving from Jackal, to Jackal, and then to Dira herself. He swallowed, straightening his back and trying to control his shock as he cleared his throat, “Your appearance was… u-unexpected.”
The Goddess raised an eyebrow, “You eased this man’s crossing into death, and it is unexpected to find me here?”
“I…” Thrall shook his head as he realized how ridiculous he sounded, “I… I was not expecting to speak with you today. That was… was unexpected.”
Dira shrugged and walked around the body and Thrall, “It is rare that someone is expectant to see me. Many try to avoid our meeting entirely, but eventually all come to meet me one way or another.”
Thrall turned to follow the Goddess as she walked, turning his body as she went behind him, “Then have you come for me? Is it now my time to return to the cycle?”
The woman paused and knelt down to scratch both of her companions behind the ear, smiling as she looked between them, “When one sees me then often their time has come. Are you saying you are ready to leave this world and move on to the next?”
“It has never been up to me.” Thrall said simply, the hand on the strap of his bag tightening slightly as he looked at the jackals, though he was not truly looking at them at all, “I have lived through my life as well as I could. I have done what I could, where I could, and for those that I could. If it is my time then I will accept it, and if it is not then I will continue on as I have. My purpose is not changed by a brush with death.”
Dira laughed, “You are an amusing one, joking with death.” Thrall blinked, as he was not aware he had made a joke at all, “It is also ironic that one of Leth’s fallen talks so easily about death and the cycle. Your kind can live many times longer than the Myrians or the Dhani, yet you talk as though you understand what it means to be mortal.” She pet the white Jackal and looked up at Thrall, “How can someone who lives such a long life come to understand the finality of life for others?”
“My life may be more extended than Zala of the Slitted Throat, but even so that does not make the days which I walk any less meaningful.” Thrall adjusted the bag on his shoulder, looking back at the Myrian, “Just as he lived every day for what he believed in, so do I. The only difference between us is that I may have more days than he to live. My life will not be infinite however, because as you said one day you will come for me as well.”
“But you were once a part of the divine. Does that not make your greater than a simple Myrian? Greater than a mortal because you have touched something that they could never understand?”
“Of course not.” Thrall looked back at Dira who was rising once more, “Perhaps I was something more than them at one time, but now… Now I have fallen from that place and I am no better than anyone else.” He raised his hands before his face, wiggling his fingers, “I have a body made of flesh. I can bleed, I can hurt, and I can die. I am Mortal as is everyone else in Mizahar. Myrians, Dhani, Humans and even Jamoura. I am different in that the potential life I have far extends many others, but in the end one day I too shall be returned to the cycle, and I look forward to that day gratefully.”
Dira came closer, and Thrall unintentionally took a step back. Only a step, however, and though she came within arm’s length of him Thrall kept his gaze on hers steadily. The Goddess eyes were deep, dark as the night and with such staggering depth that Thrall could not keep her eyes for long before looking away, “Do you wish for this life of yours to end? To be returned to the domain of your God Leth? I can do this you know. I can sweep you away from here and end it all. You only have to ask.”
Thrall was silent for a tick, his brow furrowing together as he thought about what he was being offered. He ventured a glance at the Goddess’ eyes once more, but again he was forced to look away, “A part of me… Wants nothing more than to return to that place of divine peace.” He looked back at her then and forced his gaze to remain on her’s, “But that life is gone, and I cannot let myself be tortured by what might have been. Now, in this time in this life I have to live for my own sake and not pine for what I had. I am a different man than when I first fell to this world, and I have come to accept my place in this world and my own mortality.” He took another step back and straightened his back, once more adjusting his bag on his shoulder, “While I am not afraid to die, neither will I give up this life unless my time has truly come. While I live there is always something more I can do. When I die then I shall die in peace knowing that I have done all that I can, and I shall be ready for the next adventure.”
The black Jackal made a noise and Dira looked back, raising a hand as if to say ‘I will be finished soon’ and looked back at Thrall. She eyed him in a different way this time, like one might appraise a piece of art before one buys. “You are an interesting one, different from many of your fallen brother’s and sisters. Often they have very little respect for the cycle of life, feeling themselves either victimized by their state of mortality or feeling themselves above the other races in Mizahar.” She extended her hand, motioning for Thrall to do the same. The Ethaefal did so without hesitation, after all to hesitate now would be to go against everything he had just said. Dira gently took his hand in her’s, and he noticed that they were warm. He was not sure why he was surprised. Did he expect them to be cold and lifeless like a corpse?
“Death is not something to be feared. It is merely the next step along one’s journey. It is neither good, nor evil. It comes to the most forgiving saint, and the most destructive tyrant.” She brought Thrall’s hand to her lips, placing a kiss softly on the palm of his right hand. The touch sent a feeling of electricity through Thrall’s body, a fire that burned over his skin but it did not hurt. He felt a warm comfort through his very soul, and such serenity that he felt as though he might fall to tears of relief. “Death does not discriminate between man or woman, adult or child, animal or sentient creature. It is not cruel, it is not just. It just is. There is no escape, there is no running from it. Death will come for all in time as surely as the sun will rise and the moon will follow it.” Dira smiled as she lowered Thrall’s hand, “More assuredly in fact, for one day the sun may cease to rise and the moon may very well fall from the sky. But death will still be around for as long as there is life in this world. Without death there can be no life.”
Releasing Thrall Dira stepped back, her Jackals coming to her side as she began to fade, “Now you walk the world as a favored of Death. Continue to live with a purpose, and give comfort to others who fear my coming. Then, when your time has come, I will come for you and return you once more to the cycle. Good luck Thrall, one of Leth’s Fallen. May you live well, and die at your time.”
And then she was gone, and Thrall was left staring at where she had been. The warmth that filled his soul was beginning to fade, but the palm of his hand still tingled. He raised it to his eyes and he saw the black tattoo there, the mark of Dira, and he blinked and swallowed, “Dira, may we meet again one day, but may it not be too soon.” He shook his head, still staggered by everything that had occurred. He had spoken with Dira, Goddess of Death, and yet he was still alive. He was alive…
Rubbing the back of his neck Thrall looked down at the Myrian and sighed, “Rest well my friend. Let us meet once more in your next life.”
Turning Thrall shifted his bag to his other shoulder, pushing through the underbrush as he made his way deeper into the jungle, moving now with an even greater respect for the life he held.
Last edited by Thrall on January 6th, 2015, 5:45 am, edited 3 times in total.
![[Verified by Vice]](./images/checkmark.png "[Verified by Vice]")
Thrall 
by Thrall on July 4th, 2014, 12:50 am 
