Severing the Apron Strings (Asha/Closed)

[Creeper]

Timestamp: Spring 55, 512 AV Time: Morning Location: Base Camp Who: Asha There had been several new captures during the night. A handful of Kelvic, a single Zith, and one lone female Jamoura. They all had Slugsuckle vines wrapped around their necks, and other appendages, as they were walked to The Cages. A panther snarled, the Zith screeched, but the Jamoura was utterly silent. She was just looking around not seeming aggressive like most that were pulled from the city. Her eyes were scrutinizing every detail, taking it in, waiting. Her nicer instincts were gone, but her intelligence wasn't. As she was led to a cage, she saw a hairless man standing there, holding the door. He was one that had torn her from her family, from her home, from her mate. She waited until she was next to the door, then shot the man a look of pure, unbridled fury. She slammed her shoulder into the wooden-barred door, it striking him bodily, and flinging him to the ground. She reached beneath the door, grabbed his ankle, which buckled beneath her strength. He howled in pain, and yelped as she pulled beneath the door and into her cage with her, holding the door shut with one hand. With shattered ankle in hand, she began swinging him around, smashing him into the wooden bars, into the hard ground, over and over. Many of his bones were broken, and yet he managed to retain enough consciousness to moan in pain. Being early in the morning, people were slow to respond to save him. She pulled him close, and began hammering his sternum with her available fist. It quickly caved in, the man's heart crushed, blood spitting up out of his mouth. She then bent down, her maw wrapping around the man's face, her fangs breaking through skin, bone, and cartilage. Those around would hear sickening crunching and squishing as she effectively bit the dead man's face off of his head. She felt several blows to the back of her head, and drifted into unconsciousness. The men would haul the body out, a crowd having formed to see what had happened. They knew she wouldn't be out for long, but a young girl managed to at least bandage up the broken skin where the Jamoura had been clubbed. When the Jamoura came to, she sat up and looked out through the bars at those watching her. And she saw family in that crowd. She saw Asha. And Asha saw the familiar face of Nashi. Nashi grunted at Ashi, as only Jamoura can, and asked her to come to her cage, that she wouldn't hurt her.

[Asha]

Asha wandered between the rows of tents, her chest tight with apprehension. These humans were unlike any other humans she had seen before. Most of the humans who had made their way to the Spires sought knowledge and peace, their gentle smiles and soft hands had intrigued Asha, their bizarre bodies had filled her with a sense of wonder and awe. The humans who congregated at this camp were not like that. They were fighters, dressed in rough leathers, with grim faces and cold steel as their only greeting. She knew that they had only been sent to subdue and capture the raging occupants of the Spires but the thought of these rough men handling her family and friends made her blood rise. She knew the thought was unfair, all men had to make a living with what skills they had and the scholarly life was not for everyone. Asha shook her head, trying to drive away the thoughts. She hadn’t been out of the fog very long, and she always tried to remember that her emotions were still affected.

Padding along past the tents she came to an opening were the Cages were situated. The sounds of struggle and violence quickly reached her ears, and the metallic scent of blood overwhelmed her nostrils. The scent was repulsive to Asha and she felt bile rise in her stomach. As she rounded the Cages she witnessed the female Jamoura crunch in the face of the unfortunate man, the crack of bone and squishing brain grated Asha’s sensitive ears. Her pace quickened as she saw a group of men bash the Jamoura’s head, a black mass slumping to the ground unconscious. Beneath the blood a familiar scent quickened Asha’s heart and she increased her speed toward the horrific spectacle. Men were busy dragging the shattered remains of a body away as the Jamoura female was quickly pushed into cage. Asha settled into a place in front of the cage and watched as a young human girl wrapped a few bandages around the Jamoura’s head and backed out quickly.

There was no mistaking that scent, she had grown up with its sweet fragrance in her nostrils. It was her beloved Nashi, first wife of her father, slumped in that cage. Sweet, gentle Nashi who had risen in violent anger and smashed a human body to pieces. Fresh blood streaked the soft black arms that had held her comfortingly as a child, and more dripped from the maw that had sang the Common alphabet to her. A deep sorrow filled Asha’s breast, the djed storm had upended everything she had ever known. As she stood in front of the cage with humans crowding in to gawk, Nashi opened her eyes and locked sight with Asha. The familiar Jamoura grunted at Asha, beckoning her closer. To everyone else in the crowd, the blood spattered Jamoura was a fearsome and vicious sight, but to Asha it was still sweet Nashi. She approached the cage slowly, cautious but hopeful that at least one piece from her old life might be untainted. Asha stood a few inches from the cage bars, a tremulous smile forced onto her face. “Nashi, I’m sorry we had to meet again this way, but your face is a welcome sight.” She grunted soothingly, glad their shared language could give them some privacy from the congregating humans nearby.

[Creeper]

Asha would notice that Nashi was struggling within her captivity. The woman grunted to the child of her mate. The words were not those of the intelligent, patient woman that helped raise Asha. "Hello matechild, glad safe. Dangerous men, hunt family. Mate injured, nest. Matewives captured, taken away, not here. Worried, scared, hurt. Find mate?" There was a lot of information to be discerned from such a few amount of words. Joff was injured, the nest being their home. The other wives, including Asha's mother, had been captured, and taken to somewhere that wasn't the Base Camp. This would worry Asha to no end, bringing on feelings of worry and helplessness. But there was something else within her, something that had never shown itself before. Determination and pride. Asha wanted to get her family back, herself. These men were only helping because the Jamoura were to useless to help themselves. Well, there would be one that wouldn't give in to uselessness. One that wouldn't allow men to hurt her family any longer. And her name was Asha. An elderly, tanned man walked up behind Asha, and much to her surprise, he began speaking in a very fluent, albeit foreign sounding version of the Jamouran grunts. "Young one, my name is Centroc, and I know of the men of which she speaks. They are not mercenaries. They are poachers. But you must make a choice, do you wish to find your father first, or save his mates?" Nashi was incredibly perplexed by a human that could speak their language, and slightly enraged. She pounded her fists against the wooden bars, and grunting loudly, "Give me mate!"

[Asha]

Asha knitted her eyebrow as the flow of disjointed words streamed towards her. It took her a few moments for the implications to reach fruition in her mind, and the knowledge weighed heavily on her shoulders. Her father was injured and still in the fog, her father’s third wife and Asha’s mother were taken away by some cruel beings. She hoped her family had given them a few injuries for their efforts. Asha began to feel helpless, what could she do? Perhaps she could gather together some of the mercenaries to help her…. As Asha looked into the wild and grief-stricken eyes of Nashi she knew that was an unacceptable thought. How could she look her father’s wife in the face and tell her that she would ask some weak, hairless humans to save her family for her? The answer was she couldn’t. She knew this responsibility must fall upon her, any other option was cowardly. She felt her chest rise as it filled with her resolution, a sense of determination made her feel taller and more solid. She could do this. Her family was everything to her, it would be better to die in the process of finding them instead of live with the knowledge of her cowardice.

Before she could give voice to her resolution and offer comfort to Nashi a foreign man approached, and to Asha’s great consternation spoke fluently in Jamouran. The choice Centroc offered her was a grim one, but it was one that would have had to have been made with or without him. Nashi’s outburst provided her with an excuse to turn away from him, to shush Nashi soothingly while her mind tried to make sense of the chaos. How could she choose between her mother and her father? Her father represented truth and wisdom, he was her guide to the world, and he was the intellectual pinnacle that she strove to attain. But her mother was something entirely different, but no less appealing. Her mother was warmth and comfort, the strong female figure she could turn to for a confidante, her mother was the warm hand that caressed her brow as she slept. She could not make the choice that way. She could never pick whom to save based on who she loved most, because they were equal in her eyes. Perhaps need then. Which of them needed her the most at this moment? Her father was injured and still in the grips of the fog, probably alone and at the mercy of any male who wished to take the territory of an easy target. Depending on the severity of his injuries his very lifeblood might be ebbing away as she was locked in indecision. Her mother was at the mercy of poachers, who no doubt intended on killing her, whether for her pelt, meat, or whatever disgusting product they wished to derive from her mother. But her mother had Balha, the third wife, for company at least. Though the sensitive and docile Balla would probably not be the most beneficial company for her brave and strong mother, at least she would have some form of familiarity. Her mind calmly framed the solution before her, her father was clearly more at risk and more in need of her help.

“I wish to seek out my father first, he needs my help the most.” Asha said slowly as she turned back to face Centroc. In her mind she silently added, and then my mother. She had no intention of giving up on her mother, once she had secured her father’s safety she would set out in search of the poachers. She knew when she reached the poachers, things would be ugly. The thought of what they had done to her family made a spot deep, deep within her heart glowed from shadowy recesses she had never explored before. These places had been locked off once, hidden from her by the gift of Caiyha. The djed fog had unlocked the path, opened an avenue that she had never been meant to stroll down. She had not been in the fog long enough to be overtaken by the desires newly unlocked, but they were there, waiting for her to call them forth. The deep glow inside her was a burning, dark rage and desire for vengeance. Asha had no experience of this glow, and could put no name to it. Certainly she had felt upset, irritated, and perturbed but the gentle creature had never really experienced anger of that magnitude before. All she really knew was that a fire burned at the edges of her heart and mind, and soon she would have to answer it. But first thing was first, she had to delve back into the fog of the Spires. She knew many of the creatures there could overpower her, and she was inexperienced in the ways of combat. She would have to keep her wits about her.

[Creeper]

Centroc was honestly surprised at her choice, and very little surprised him these days. In the perfect Jamouran grunts, "You know where he will be then, the place that has always been home for him. Go, quickly." Centroc turned and began walking away. Asha would find herself racing toward the city proper, which was two long bells northwest of the camp. She wondered if her father could hold on that long. She hesitated slightly when she came to the thick Fog, but would find the courage to press onward. Upon arrival, she would find many of the ladders into the city torn away. The stairways that led up to the Outer Petals were still standing though, some attached to the trees by vines, others carved into them when the tree became scarred by invasive fungi. Asha's gaze would be drawn upward, despite knowing that no trace of the city could be seen from ground level. Her father lived on the Petal of the Watching Owl, within the Inner Petals. Until this point, she hadn't thought through the full logistics of the plan, much to her own shame. The city was full of her brethren, driven mad, wild. Stealth was never her forte, but she did have intimate knowledge of the city. After selecting a stairway, she would find herself on an Outer Petal that used to house a shop that turned stone into art, a process known as flintknapping. However, the shop was totally collapsed. A light breeze rolled through, temporarily clearing the Fog on the Petal. The sight was shocking. Every building, shop, decoration that had been sitting atop this Petal had been destroyed. The level of devastation caused by her own kind was appalling. But her shock would not last long as the roar of a male in the area brought her back to her senses.

[Asha]

Asha nodded to Centroc as he spoke and left. With a last glance at Nashi, she turned and headed towards the hidden city. She loped along at a quick pace, adrenaline and bravado fueling her movements. Her mind raced with absurd fantasies of saving her family, her every decision executed smoothly and with little resistance. Those delusions of grandeur quickly disintegrated as she came face to face with the wall of fog. The reality of the dangerousness of her mission came to her as she stared into its misty grey depths. With a thick swallow, she forced herself to enter the fog and face her fear. She moved along, though much slower and more attentive to her surroundings. Each twig break and bird call startled her, danger seemed to loom around every corner which in reality it probably did.

All too soon Asha came to the bloodwoods that the city rested on. Looking up at the dense foliage she could see nothing of the city that hung above her, but she looked up all the same. She had not visited the Spires since her escape weeks before, and the thought of seeing her beloved home again brought both longing and fear into her heart. She had no idea what would be waiting for her when she ascended into the city proper which lodged a sharp tension in her belly. Well, there was nothing for it but to go up and have a look. Asha spotted a set of stairs that seemed fully intact and stable, and began her ascent. The forest seemed oddly quiet now that she climbing, every footfall on the stairs seemed to echo through her entire body. She emerged on the edge of an Outer Petal, a collapsed shop nearby. Shaking her head in sympathy for the poor shop owners, a breeze rolled through and cleared the fog away, immobilizing her body in shock. It was destroyed, all of it. The devastation of this Petal left her mind numb and hazy. Everything that had once felt familiar was now foreign and dangerous. Asha felt her eyes swell with tears, but a vicious roar shook her from her stupor.

She felt quite the fool at that moment, what in the name of Caiyha had she been thinking? She couldn’t do this. She was weak and frightened and she couldn’t handle the stress. She had grown up pampered and spoiled, her strong family sheltering her from the vicious nature of the world. The destruction she was witnessing had stripped away the illusions of safety and security from her eyes. But she had no choice. As much as her head screamed that she could not do this task her heart whispered that she must. She couldn’t leave her father to die when she had come so far to help him. It would be better to die here in the fog in pursuit of her family’s safety then to live with the guilt that she had abandoned them. She had to stop thinking of soft and gentle things, and begin to think of survival. And that roar she had heard told her one thing, survival would not be easy and it would not be comfortable. She had to harden herself to the scene before her and be prepared to look upon any of her former friends and neighbors as enemies. It would not be an easy task, but she had little other choice.

Asha moved closer to the flint knapping shop, quickly scanning its ruins for something useable. She spotted an oblong rock that seemed heavy and picked it up. It fit her hand comfortably; the blunt object would have to serve her as a weapon for the time being. It comforted her to feel armed, and the concept of bashing someone’s head in was not too difficult for her to grasp. Rock in hand, she began to walk through the wreckage toward the Petal of the Watching Owl where her father resided. She moved slowly and tried to walk silently, though she had no clue how to accomplish that feat. She wanted to simply sprint toward her father’s home to get the journey over with, yet at the same time she feared the noise of pounding feet would draw unwanted attention. It was a contest of how long she could remain undetected before the roaring male or another found her. She only hoped it was a contest that she would not lose.

[Creeper]

Creeping along the Outer Petal was a long and arduous task, a petal filled with shops and gardens devastated. She'd grown up with these, she'd known the owners, she'd visited, her father had taught her about them. Something within her was filling with anger, with outrage. It wasn't the effects of the Fog, this was something else, something foreign and unnatural. It was hate. Hate at whatever had caused this, hate for having to resort to violent foreigners, hate toward the recklessness of magic. There was a discontent growing within her, to change things, so they would never have to resort to the dredges of other societies to save them. And it began with her saving her people. Her father would be the first, then her mother, and everyone else. As she inched along, she didn't hear any more roars of her fellow Jamoura. There were chittering birds, small animals, squirrels, the gliding skunks, all seeking shelter and food. A cold screech filled the air, stopping her in her tracks, thirty yards from the vine bridge that led to the Inner Petals. She knew that cry from the occasional visitor to the Spires. It was soon followed by two more, one high pitched, and a another, deeper one. Zith, three of them. And they were hunting. All of the animals would go quiet and flee. The Zith would have trouble finding prey in the Fog, but would quickly adapt. A light breeze flowed between the petals, and the bridge was now exposed. Asha could hear the wings beating, but couldn't find the source. One was slowly flapping above the bridge, scanning the area, looking for an easy meal. It slowly began flapping its way along the bridge, in her general direction, when a hand smaller than her own clamped onto her shoulder, and pulled to a pile of rubble. The attacker had moved out of her reach to keep from getting brained, while holding a finger to his tanned lips. Centroc was here, and had manage to pull the small Jamoura woman to the ground. Just what was this man?

[Asha]

A deep, dark emotion clawed at the edges of Asha’s heart and increased with each step as she made the arduous journey through the decimated petal. A hot, burning fire licked around her chest and she knew it to be anger. Nay, anger was too light a word. It was rage. The fire that had smoldered gently ever since she watched her people change and flee in fear had finally caught flame and reverberated through her being.

Each footfall brought a new sight of destruction into her vision and the fire was fed some more. Here was a shop where her mother had bought pottery to hold their evening meal. There was the destroyed trellis of morning glories that her brother loved to nap behind. The wicked magic that caused this mess had laid waste to her memories, and she did not know if she could forgive the offence. What had happened to this place of beauty and tranquility must never happen again, and the Spirians must never need to look to the wicked and brutal to save their city. For that was what the so called rescuers back at the camp really were, violent and deceitful wretches who saw only gold Mizas when they looked upon her addled brethren. The mercenaries did not see the beautiful wisdom locked behind eyes maddened with rage and domination that she was able to see.

Asha passed another building that conjured memories of her father conversing with the sage sculptor inside, and she was reminded of her true purpose that day. Reconstruction and prevention would have to wait for another day. This day was about the lives of her family, and she could not afford to have her attention distracted. Shaking her thoughts of the future aside, Asha heard the shrill scream of hunting Zith. She froze immediately and her eyes began to dart for hiding places. All the chatter of wildlife suddenly ceased as the sharp call echoed through the air.

A small breeze cleared away a strip of fog, and a bridge was revealed twenty paces from where Asha stood unmoving. She could hear the flapping of the Zith wings in the somewhat near distance, but the fog muffled their sounds and she couldn’t find the source. As she struggled to act upon the situation a small hand clasped onto her shoulder and firmly pulled her towards a pile of rubble. Swinging her arm around she turned and brought it to an immediate halt as she recognized the stranger as Centroc. Her brows knit together in confusion as she tried to understand how the man had gotten there. It didn’t seem logical, yet there he was.

“How did you get here?” she asked, which she realized was a rather stupid question. It didn’t really matter how he had gotten there, more why he was there. He had sent her into the fog with no hint of his further help and suddenly the man had appeared right in time to pull her out of easy view of the Zith.

[Creeper]

"It matters not why, or how, I decided to tag along, just thank your Goddess I did," he pointed toward the Zith, "Those are not Zith looking to save your people. They are hungry, hunting, and you are ideal prey. They seem to be flying from bridge to bridge, knowing that is where your kind are most exposed, and they've severed several of the bridges." He pulled his extra two arms from his robes, and smiled at the young Jamoura, "Sometimes the best way to travel is not as a bat, or a monkey, but as a spider. And spiders crawl along their webs." Centroc stepped backwards to the edge of the Petal, and opened his arms wide, and fell backwards like a rotten tree. What had he just done?! Then she realized that the webs he spoke of were the nets that hung beneath the city. These nets could be traversed with a fair amount of difficulty, but could reach just about anywhere. The Eypharian trader was indeed crawling along the nets with the grace and speed of a spider, and he sent an arm up to her beckoning. She would have to move from multiple nets, at various altitudes, until she reached a ladder that led her up to the Petal of the Watching Owl. Her home was still intact, but the roof was ripped and shredded, and claw marks adorned the entire structure. Centroc continued on past the home, leaving her be, the smell of coppery blood, fresh, drifted into her nose. A low, pained moan echoed out of her home, a male's voice, a father's voice.

[Asha]

Asha nodded quietly at his quick words and felt gently chastened. Her questions had been meaningless of course, and he was right. It didn’t matter why he was there as long as he offered her aid. Some things were not for all to know. Asha raised her eyebrows as she considered his advice. Spider? How could she travel as spider? Spiders were delicate and acrobatic. She was bulky and solid. As he dropped over the edge her heart jumped into her mouth and she rushed to look over the petal edge. As she watched him begin to crawl gracefully across the nets his words clicked into place in her mind. The nets were the spider webs he spoke of. There was little choice but for her to follow. She had done this earlier that season but still she felt nervous about taking the plunge over the edge. She was not a thrill seeker by any means and free falling did not appeal to her. This was not a time to think of herself though. She stepped off the edge and plummeted down, down, down to the nets waiting beneath. As the breath whooshed out of her she scrambled around and began to climb after Centroc. Her movements were slow and choppy as she made her way carefully across the net. She had nowhere near the grace and ease of the Eypharian and she struggled to keep up with him. It didn’t take long before she was cursing the net system beneath the petals. Who had planned this mess? The nets were not set up neatly in one connecting level. There were times when she had to jump down to a different net or struggle her large bulk up and over the edge of a higher one. By the time Asha reached the ladder to the petal of the Watching Owl and the waiting Centroc her chest was heaving rapidly from the effort of the climb across the nets. She felt like she was on the verge of exhaustion from the laborious movements and her arms shook as she placed one hand over the over to haul herself up the ladder. Sweat soaked into her black fur as she climbed higher and higher and eventually reached the petal floor. Some discouragement filled her heart as she considered her situation for she would surely die if she kept up this pace for the entirety of her journey. Wearily she moved forward with Centroc towards her family’s home. She had little energy to speak to the man and silence seemed safest anyways. The spry bugger hardly seemed fazed from the climb across the nets. As her home came into sight all thoughts of her exhaustion and weariness vanished completely from her mind and the fire of love for her family returned fiercely. Ignoring the presence and movements of Centroc she dashed towards the clawed structure with a strangled sob in her throat. The roof of her home was destroyed and claw marks loudly proclaimed the violence that had occurred there. The rank stench of blood filled her nostrils as she moved closer and she had to consciously instruct herself to not vomit as her stomach bubbled wildly. As the faint sounds of a moan reached her ears she rounded the doorway and cried out, “Father!”