brother of the forgotten.

by **Caelum** on November 4th, 2013, 3:20 am

OOCGuest mod requested and approved by Magpie as well as Gossamer.

The Rules of Engagement :

I come from killing.

I go to more.

I drive red joy ahead of me from killing.

Red gluts and red hungers run in the smears and juices

of my inside bones:

The child cries for a suck mother and I cry for war.

- C. Sandburg.

Timestamp: 53 Fall 513 AV

It was a long ride to the Iysan Ruins. The rescue party rode through the Sea of Grass, following the winding curve of the Bluevein River that bound the southern portion of Endrykas' spring grounds. They were aiming for beyond the ruins, truth told, the estimations of the Cerulean tracker, Doran, placing their eventual crossing with the Zith raiding party somewhere on the banks of the Ki River, a north stretching tributary of the Bluevein. Weather was a worry as the sky had been been skudded with storm clouds since their departure from Riverfall. It turned the late afternoon light into something nearly celadon, the air crystalline but impure as it filled the lungs of the racing men with the musk of grasses and the scent of ozone.

When the rescue party had gathered the day before their number was five and twenty. It was a large enough party to forge a campaign against what was suspected to be a small band of Zith. The sighter had been a human mercenary, down on his luck as he slumped into town. He claimed the enemy to be no more than nine in number and with only a handful of humans, all who were assumed to be slaves. At the head of the rescue party was no other than Nodorus, Commander of the Kuvay'nas himself. He brought with him a dozen broad shouldered Akalak under his command and the volunteers were welcomed with grim respect. Nodorus provided the volunteers with with supplies for riding, camping, and fighting if their personal equipment was found lacking. They would bring with them half a dozen fresh mounts for the slaves they intended to free from the savage Zith, and all else was ordered to be light enough for swift travel. They had no time to waste for the luxuries of carts and wagons to haul their supplies, and if a shortage occurred then the rescue party was expected to self supply by hunting and foraging. Once every man was briefed and equipped, the party set out beneath the grumbling sky.

Their first stop was at the Cerulean outpost north of Riverfall. An Akalak met them on the borders, spotted standing on the plain beside his blood bay gelding long before they drew near. He was not tall, not compared to his brothers, but his shadow yawned long across the grasses and rippled in the shade of clouds racing across the sun. He was dressed in the standard attire of dark, worn leathers that left his arms bare and his long black hair was braided back and wrapped around itself at the base of his neck. He was as intimidating in appearance as any Akalak in the fullness of his health, but what set him apart was the ink spilling down his broad features in the bright colors of the sun. Burnt orange and daffodil yellow swirled from the edges of his countenance to coalesce in an inverted sun pattern over the bridge of his nose and cheeks. It was starkly apparent against the deep blue hue of his skin and it erased his name for nearly all intents and purposes, leaving him only with that of Cerulean.

Nodorus introduced him to the party as Doran, saying he was a tracker and little more. There was an exchange of looks between some of the Kuvay'nas, and a few of their mutters traveled to the ears of the volunteers as they set out again.They said that Venkork, a leader of the Cerulean who protected their city from the outskirts, had been reluctant to take Doran in when he was tattooed and banished from the city proper a decade back. Some said it was was because Doran had been Kuvay'nas and, supposedly, a friend to Nodorus and his darker brother Kavinal. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Regardless, general opinion was uncertain and uncomfortable when it came to the sad eyed and silent Cerulean riding at the front of their party. He was not to be trusted.

The first night they pitched their camp on the high ground, a rise in the middle of an unending sea. They lit no fires and cooked no food, relying instead upon the cold packed supplies they carried with them. There were no tents either by Nodorus' decree. They would sleep beneath the stars with their bedrolls in two concentric circles, heads facing outward. The men were invited to draw straws or arm wrestle for the right to bed down in the innermost circle, arguably the warmest and most protected. It turned quickly into a game, wagers placed and brags carrying along with victory hoots through the ceaseless dark. They had but a sliver of Leth's moon to live by until dawn, but that made the natural entertainers among them all the more popular. The men yearned for stories and songs, the blood in them wanting for the reassurance of breath and fellowship to hold them through the night.

Not that they were not courageous. After all, only a rescue party led by Nodorus would be crazy enough to bed down in the middle of nothing on a windless night without fire or tent walls to defend them. He had a purpose, however, and he set a watch that changed in two hour turns so that all might garner enough sleep to see him through the next day.

The second day passed in a grueling series of rides and stops. Their direction was changed twice and the second time amid not a little cold looks exchanged between some of the Kuvay'nas who were closest to their commander and, in apparent consequence, harbored a greater disliking of the Cerulean tracker than the rest. Eventually, a direction was chosen and the ride lengthened by a few hours. The sun was lowering in the west when Doran threw up a hand and the rescue party circled to a halt. In the distance, far off on the horizon, snaked the Ki River and dense copse scattered along its bank. To the north was a wide and rising hill, beyond which nothing but the curve of the sky was visible from their present position.

After a quick exchange with Doran and his second in command, Nodorus turned his sober gaze to the others. "We camp here for the night." He jerked his chin at his second, a rather hulking Akalak with icy, lilac eyes. "Nicroval, take Doran and three volunteers and scout toward to the Ki River."

Nodorus proceeded to select three other Kuvay'nas to take volunteers for scouting in the remaining cardinal directions. Vanator, Davus, and Favchean found themselves selected by means of a stabbed finger by Nicroval. The Akalak waited, silent and smirking, to be joined by them and Doran.

by **Favchean Hronis** on November 4th, 2013, 5:38 am

Favchean disliked horses. He imagined they disliked him as well, of which he was perfectly fine with. As long as both knew well the feelings of the other, then one was not surprised when one tried to kick the other...or stab the animal. He had began calling the horse he had been loaned Steaks, sometimes Pre-Leather though he didn't grumble in reality. More like jesting, though he trusted his own two feet and sturdy legs much more then he did the long legged mare he rode.

It felt good to be out, doing something pro-active. Once the word had gotten out that a Zith party had been spotted the blood-lust boiled within Favchean. He had already earned his right to his second name and killed Zith in the past, but the only better thing in the world then a good strong battle...was a good strong battle ground littered with dead Zith. Even the thought of the creatures caused the dark green Akalak to spit to the side, as if the mere hint of the winged demons left an oily taste in his mouth.

Favchean was not tall for Akalak standards, though he wasn't among the shortest either. However his girth more then made up for his lack of height, though none of it was fat. His chest and arms were thickly muscled with ropey corded lengths that flexed and moved with every shift of the horse beneath him. His clothing was thoughtfully selected, leather to protect him but nothing that would hinder his movements. His weapon of choice was his body first and foremost, so he wanted to be able to move his arms and legs as he needed without constraints of armor.

Zith were no picnic to fight, but Favchean knew that they were not the unbeatable foe that sometimes people thought they were. It was the numbers that tipped the scales more often then not. In a equal numbered fight Favchean had no doubt that any Akalak force would quickly overwhelm the Zith, the problem was often then not the Akalak were also encumbered with trying to protect the captives the Zith almost always had with them. Cowardly slives that they were, herding unprotected and weaker opponents before them.

The night that they camped Favchean joined in the games and lost but with a good nature he did not mind taking the outer centric ring, and his turn on the guard. He kept a distance from the Cerulean though. His pale blue eyes rarely remained on a tattooed Akalak long before sliding away, looking out over the distance and whispering a faint prayer to Wsyar of thanks. Thanks that he had not been unable to control himself for the most part.

Chosen to go with Nicroval and Doran, Favchean instinctively checks his hips both of which sported a weapon. The left hip sported his Lakan, the twisted metal that was polished to a sheen, decorated only by strong firm lines and nothing else, and the right his plain dagger. Both weapons were there for the use, but he more often then not employed them as red herrings. Let his opponent worry about the blade when he should be worried about the descending arm that meant to encircle and crack a neck.

His skin was so dark that unless in direct sunlight it might be mistaken for black, so his black hair braided tightly against his scalp with the sides shaven almost became invisible to the naked eye. His eyes, a startling pale icy blue stood out against his skin as he surveyed the surroundings, even as he moved forward toward the waiting males. He was no tracker, not a hunter either but he had been out on both the glassbeak hunt and the zith hunt on occasions, and both had taught him to be wary of water sources. Water meant life..and not just to benign races either.

by **Davus** on November 4th, 2013, 9:02 am

Davus had clung to the neck of his horse as it trundled along, making up the back of the group for the entire day. He didn't enjoy the sensation of having to cling to the outside of this large smelly animal that with every step it took, despite the presence of a leather saddle, seemed to tear the skin off his inner thighs. He imagined he was providing the group of Akalak warriors a source of amusement, nearly causing the horse to rear up several times as the tracked down the Zith group.

He cared little for the Zith, bloodlust and hatred was not in his nature, those feelings were directed to only a few, he was here for only one reason, gold. He saw often the face of disgust of the Akalaks when the name was even mentioned, but that was nothing when they caught a glimpse of the "What did you call him? Was it Cerulun?" he asked
"No, Cerulean" A particularly large Akalak, covered in tattoo and devoid of all body hair said.
"What is that?"
"You wouldn't understand sea-human, just know he isn't to be trusted" He warned.

The rest of the day had passed rather drearily after that, light showers of rain experienced by the group had dampened the spirit of adventure and companionship between the warriors but that didn't stop them talking about the nature of the Zith and performing various enactments of how they will take down the vile beasts. He had been told before he departed from the city that Zith were bat like creatures, with large claws on their feet and hands, and vast leather wings on their back which meant they could sweep in the dark of night. Amongst the group similar things were being said only vastly exaggerated, he heard a human mercenary state that they were pitch black and stole children away in the night, he heard a Akalak mention that they had huge fangs capable of tearing a throat out, and supposedly the females can seduce a man with just their eyes.

This carried the group forward until they mad their camp site, though with no fire and tents it provided little in the way of comfort and warmth, especially to the lean Svefra who only manage to win one arm wrestle against the bulky warriors so he slept near the outside of the camp. As he sat watch over the camp as small seagull had swooped down to sit down beside him "I told you stay in the inn with Nystir" He muttered as he fed the bird some his cold food "You can stay but try not to be eaten" He warned his tavan.

With his leg raw he had decided to jog alongside the group as the trekked through the Sea of Grass on the second day, something he soon regretted as his horse joined the front of the group with no rider and the route seemed to constantly change. As the group had stopped to decide who went with the second group he grabbed the horse by the reins, making sure it wouldn't escape when he felt a prick on his finger "Welcome to the second group" A dour voice muttered to him before walking off.

After being chosen to go with Doran and Nicroval, he had changed into his leather armour. He must have looked the strangest amongst his group as they diverged, except perhaps the Cerulean, he was tall for his race but still only matched the height of a couple of Akalaks without their size making him appear positively lean and wiry. At his waist hung no visible weapons, just a couple of empty glass bottles and a dagger he had swiped from the supplies tucked into a thick leather belt. He appeared uncomfortable in his leather armour, despite the design flexibility of it he had only purchased it yesterday in the spur of the moment and he found it oddly restrictive as he stretched in the saddle, trying to get comfortable. His long straggly hair was tied back into a small pony tail, to avoid any obscuration of his vision which left his Oceanus mark on displayed on the left side of his neck and his tavan perched on his shoulder pecked at it with fascination.

As the group rode along he decided to break the silence that hung over the group "So how much does the gratitude of the city pay?"

by **Favchean Hronis** on November 4th, 2013, 5:06 pm

The Akalak shifted on his mount as the Svefran rode closer to the group as he had been chosen along with Favchean. It is not that he didn't like the man, he didn't even know him, he just didn't..dislike him..either. His face maintained its passiveness though, his eyes unblinking as he scans the area carefully. One hand held the reigns in a loose grip, his wrist draped over the pommel of the saddle, the other hand was lain against his thick leather-bound thigh for all the world looking to be relaxed as if he is on an outing for a picnic.

However if one looked closer they might notice the tension in his shoulders, and the way his jaw ticked in anticipation. So ready was he for the hunt of the zith that it is no small wonder that he became agitated by the other man's words. Agitated for an Akalak anyways that prided himself on his control and self-awareness. His pale blue gaze shifted to the thinner male, sizing him up quickly before speaking in a neutral tone. "We do not do this for the gratitude of the city, we do this because it is right. Zith are unspeakable horrors that bring cruelty and destruction to anyone they take. We do this for the sake of those they have captured."

by **Davus** on November 4th, 2013, 8:05 pm

"We do not do this for the gratitude of the city, we do this because it is right. Zith are unspeakable horrors that bring cruelty and destruction to anyone they take. We do this for the sake of those they have captured."

Davus chuckled softly from those words as he tugged on the horse reins, making the horse settle down into a gentle trot as the Sevfra struggled to appear composed and relaxed on the horse "For the sake of those of they have captured" He repeated dryly as he stared down the Akalak's eyes, his own much deeper blue eyes contrasting with piercing, ice blue eyes; he found little warmth in them, they look like they saw the world in black and white with nothing in between, "At least where Zith a concerned" he thought to himself as he examined the Akalak. Short for an Akalak he stood a couple of inches above Davus, but what he lacked in height he made up in width, he was nearly twice as wide as Davus with broad shoulders, large biceps and chiselled forearms. "Typical Akalak" He muttered in a undertone so he couldn't hear him before looking back up to him "You do this because it is right, I haven't the luxury to do things that are right, I do things to pay for my next meal and bed. That's the way the world works my friend, you should try leaving that city of yours at some point to see the rest of Mizahar, it will be an eye opener" he spoke bluntly in the common tongue, wishing he hadn't drunk both bottles of ale as soon as they had left; he was a cynical bastard when he wasn't drunk.

He didn't like the situation in he was in, it wasn't the thought of going toe to toe with Zith that made him anxious enough to keep of rubbing that bloody bandaged eye, but the he had no idea what he was going into; the mercenary had given the warriors of Riverfall numbers but he had heard nothing about how armed they were or how skilled, they could be the deadliest warriors amongst the Zith or just a bunch of simpletons that had managed to capture a group of unwary travellers, they could be armed to the teeth with Isurian steel or between them own one wooden sword and a rusted knife. "Still, if worse comes to worse just put that Akalak in between you and the blade, he probably won't mind dying for those slaves" he thought jokingly, or at least he hoped he wasn't being serious.

by **Vanator** on November 4th, 2013, 8:43 pm

No measure of admonition, begging, guilting or seduction would have prevented Vanator from riding with the rescue party that Riverfall quickly assembled. Not that any in Sanctuary tried to deter the eldest Denusk from joining the mission. Kavala certainly had her opinion, which she kept to herself, knowing her brother's nearly obsessive hatred of the Ziath, simply ensuring Van had proper supplies and a kiss on the cheek. Sybel insisted that she come along with her fiance, proving her worth with a sword as part of the guard detail for the archeological dig outside of the city. But Vanator convinced his fiery wife-to-be that Sanctuary had already been the target of Zith attacks once, and Kavala needed the Benshiran's blade in the absence of Vanator. Secretly, he did not want Sybel to go for his own reasons. Van had lost one love to the wretched winged beasts. Losing Sybel to the Zith could very well push the Drykas into madness.

Few in Riverfall, or anywhere, knew the Zith like Vanator Denusk. He had lost his first wife Tamar to Zith, beginning a life long preoccupation with vengeance. He had stood against them at the gates of Din and barely escaped with his life. Vanator had played a dangerous game of sparring with a treacherous Zith female, and in the end assaulted her in a way that made him a monster. A year Vanator spent imprisoned in a Zith colony, slave, stud, pet, until fate freed him at the hands of his sister. Then the assault on the Sanctuary a year ago, repelled only by the use of powerful magic. Van had lost himself in a bloodlust during the battle, nearly dying himself after killing his former Zith mistress. Many Zith had died by Vanator's ax, but the Drykas bore countless scars, both in his body and on his soul, inflicted upon him by the Zith that never healed.

Vanator knew Nodorus and many of the Kuvay'nas in attendance from the battle with the glassbeaks near the archeological digs. Not friends by any means, they were certainly respected and, as a citizen of Riverfall, Van followed the Akalak warrior. Van rode upon his Strider, Sirocco, often skirting the edges of the group, as the lively grassland horse chafed at the slower gait of the Riverian's horses. The Denusk packed for a typical venture into the grass, sans the tent, per Nodorus' instructions. Along with his gear, Van came ready for battle. A cold steel battle ax hung from a loop on his yvas, a matching hand ax thrust through his belt with a dagger. A composite recurve bow and quiver dangled from the other side of his riding harness. A small wooden shield was also strapped to his pack. The Drykas wore his shoulder length dark blond hair loose, a chainmail tunic over his chest and leather breeches tucked into his riding boots. A cloak remained wrapped around him as he rode.

Vanator kept to himself for most of the first day and into the second. He knew of the angst between the Akalaks of the city and the Cerulean, though there was much less tension than he had seen when Venkork and Nodorus had to work together. After stopping for the second night, the Drykas found himself selected for scouting duty with Nicroval and the Cerulean tracker. Another Akalak was pinned, a hulking, statuesque warrior with skin so deep in hue it was nearly black, and the tall, scraggly, one eyed Svefra that could not ride a horse to save his life. The seafaring man was certainly an oddity among the heavily armed Riverians, and Vanator had yet to surmise why a man of the sea, and certainly not a warrior, sought to fight the Zith. Davus' question answered Vanator's own. Profit was the man's motive.

Favchean's response was very Akalak-like, but true. Vanator nodded in agreement to the dark Akalak, then shot a glance to Davus. "Friend, this is not about reward, this is about survival. Zith are a plague, wretched and cruel. They should be, deserve to be, slaughtered at every chance given. If we don't get to those captives, their most merciful fate will be quick death. I guarantee you what the Zith have in store for them will be nothing but merciful." Van's tone grew sober. "I hope there is something special in those bottles. Your small blade will be little use against a grown Zith."

OOCSorry my first post is so lengthy...Van has history!

by **Favchean Hronis** on November 4th, 2013, 9:06 pm

Favchean made a sound in his throat that might have been a growl, or it might have just been him clearing his throat when the Svefran responded with crassness. The male was of the mercenary mindset, something that the Akalak could not wrap his own mind around. Perhaps it was because he was reared in a city where citizens protect each other, opened their arms to strangers, and protected the weak that he couldn't quite grasp the cynical nature that the other seemed so easy to spew.

When the Drykas man rode up, Favchean gave him a respectful nod of his head in greeting. He had given the other man his space, though he did not know him personally. Something about the eyes told of a weight on his mind. To this Akalak who was so intimately aware of internal struggles, it was apparent that this one had his own demons to wrestle. Some sought to fix it themselves, others sought relief from bottles, and still others sought help from others. For Favchean it was the choice of each person how they wished to fight their demons and none of his concern unless they themselves reached out.

"Everyone endures hardships. Do not presume one has not simply because of their opinions." His words are gravelly, as his voice is so deep that it almost grated on the ears, which is the precise reason he keeps his volume on a controlled level. As he spoke he was thinking of the girl-child that he had taken upon himself to check up on, the Vantha Starling that was so spirited and rambunctious. She had known hardships, and was still as caring for others as anyone else. "It is not the hard ships that make the man. Its how the man deals with the hardships that create the man."

The green Akalak shakes his head once, causing the tail of his tightly braided mohawk to swing, before turning to the Drykas with a grim grin that displayed glaringly white teeth against the dark flesh. "We shall soon make it rain blood of the Zith. Let us go, the light wont last long." Though he spoke, he did look toward Nicorval first in deference of the man's leadership. Only after the lilac-gazed Akalak moves, does Favchean move his horse in behind, still feeling quite clumsy on top the animal.

by **Davus** on November 4th, 2013, 11:29 pm

"There was something special in them" Davus retorted "Problem was I drunk it as soon as we left" He said with a grin as they rode on. He now looked at Drykas who had not spoken a word since they left the city, he was the shortest of the group but he doubt that would have mattered, he seemed to radiant an aura of danger and determination that would stop most sane men from attacking. It was reassuring to see such a man armed with a multitude of weapons amongst their company, prepared for any trouble they may come across if it had to be solved with combat "At least one of us is coming out of this alive" He thought to himself.

The glance he received from the Drykas was one that could curdle milk "I don't know what history you have with these animals, don't deny it the stench of hate hangs around you with every word you speak, and I don't think you would want to share it with the likes of me but this plague is of no concern to me. If the day came where these creatures swarmed across the Sea of Grass towards Riverfall with the intent to slaughter every man, women and child, do you know what me and my first mate would do?" He asked offering some cold food to his tavan "We would climb in my boat and sail away where the grass is greener, the drinks flow quicker and the women are slimmer. The honour that you two hold weighs you down like armour, it maybe a weight you can handle but I cannot, when you wear armour on a ship and fall into the water it doesn't save you, it drags you towards the depths. I may seem a coward to you but I have lost enough to know that I have to survive" He said curtly.

He shook his head when he heard the dark Akalak talk of blood "They can seek all the glory they want, I just want the spoils of our effort" He thought, perhaps he should be more concerned with the people but he doubted if any of them would shed tears over his death. Davus groaned as he felt the increase of speed from the group as the galloping of horse drowned out any other noise he might have heard, "By the gods, give me a ship any day" he moaned as he clung on to his horse for dear life.

by **Vanator** on November 5th, 2013, 1:18 pm

Tension was escalating among the three volunteers, ideological polarities that would not be reconciled during a short patrol. The self-serving Svefra did chafe the Drykas' sense of honor, but one thing the horseman had to learn when he came to Riverfall was that not everyone was like him, a fact the Drykas had to accept if he were to accomplish anything among the diverse people of Mizahar.

Van grinnned and laughed, a bit scoffingly. "We are all here for our own reasons. We don't have to share the same purpose, other than that of Favchean here and the Riverians, the rescue of the captives. If I have the chance to kill more Zith, or you gather spoils or reward along the way, than you and I have gained a boon from the adventure. But we will all be held to the task at hand. Nodorus will ensure that."

Davus had mentioned suffering loss. Favchean was right, certainly each of them had endured difficulty, how each dealt with that loss was different. Vanator had to grin at the Svefra's analogy. He knew little of the Svefra people, less of sailing. The Drykas knew he would be as awkward and lost on Davus' boat as the Svefra was on the back of a horse. It made things come into a bit of perspective. "I hope you survive this, Svefra, and can sail off to your greener grass and thinner drink and women. As for me, I will stay where the grass, drink and women are thicker!"

Vanator then turned to Favchean, the behemoth of a man seeming almost too big for his mount, the dark-skinned Akalak an imposing sight. "Riverian, it will be my honor to shed Zith blood with you. Perhaps we will show this sailor a thing or two as well."

by **Favchean Hronis** on November 5th, 2013, 2:41 pm

The skinny -compared to Favchean at least- little sailing man was quickly becoming an affront to the Akalak. Favchean mused gently that it is possibly a good thing that Davus had not had the opportunity to meet his dark brother, the less dominant side of Favchean was far less patient with the selfish. However he had to give the Svefran credit for being up front about his treachery, there was that. An enemy who was transparent in his thoughts and actions was much preferable then one who was sly and wily. Besides, this trip was not about himself or the other but about a far greater threat.

Icy blue eyes stared at the sailor for a long hard moment, not missing the slight that he had given to the females of Riverfall. The slight was minor, not worth Favchean even commenting on it but to someone who found all womanhood beautiful and reverent-almost thick, thin or in between it was enough to cause him to roll his eyes heavenward as if in silent prayer.

"Careful what you say little male. Particularly to those who would be in a position to watch your back in the midst of battle." This was said in a serious non-committal tone, though Favchean knew that his own sense of decorum would demand that he defended Davus' person during this raid.

So when the Drykas spoke to him, it was with a relief that Favchean could turn his attention off the other though he had determined that he would have to keep one eye on him to be safe. He grinned a dark grin, "My name is Favchean Hronis. It will be good to ..." His words cut off though as they passed a copse of trees, small things that were scraggly but the bush and foliage thick enough to hide a couple of human-sized creatures..one larger Zith perhaps..but they passed with no arrival of claws or wings.

Closed brother of the forgotten.