Clouded past [Flashback, past lives]

[Emee]

Timestamp: 510 AV, 14th day of winter. Early night. Emee sat down on his bed, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He had cleared his bed of pillow and blanket, and stacked all his belongings on top of that again in a corner of the room. The only furniture not dragged away was a simple table with a thick, burning candle on a plate. Emee had used this day to think out the dates he wanted to visit, and to clear the room of any obstacles of thought. That meant pretty much anything that could make a sound, light, or even the faintest disturbance for his senses. He had even put up some cloth in front of his window to block out the moon, something he was highly uncomfortable with doing. When he felt he was mentally ready, he took off his shirt and pants, threw them onto the pile of possessions and furniture, and blew out the candle. When the smell of smoke cleared away from his nose, he lied down slowly on his naked bed and found the most comfortable way of lying for a prolonged period. He imagined this would take at least until midnight. As he took a second breath, the last breath he would make consciously, he let his thoughts wander off to think about pretty much anything. He let his mind wander like this for a few minutes until there was nothing new to think about. Most of the things his thoughts had met were his actions today, the people he had talked to, what his food had tasted like, and the night he fell from the sky. That was a long time ago now, but he couldn't get himself into forgetting it. Now that his mind was free, he focused on going back as far as he could... Before the time spent with Leth and Syna, and into the life of another man. The man he was nothing but a copy of now.

[Emee]

The man I once was Timestamp: 477 AV, 31st day of summer. Midnight. Emee looked nervously around him, meeting the eyes of the strangers he walked with. He wasn't exactly sure what they were going to do, who these people were, and why they were together. All he knew was that they had all presented themselves before him in his workshop where he sewed together all sorts of clothes. They had walked in separately at different days, all requesting that he made them a simple dress of a silvery silk cloth that they had bought with them, probably to make sure the dresses were all made of that material. He had noticed their apparent connection to each other, and his first thought was that they were some kind of dark cult. Therefore he hadn't asked at first as he was afraid to awaken the wrath of some god and get zealots on his tail. But when the last person -a smiling young man with dirt under his nails and short, shabby and dark hair on his head- came to pick up his dress, Emee had asked him about his knowledge of this rush of customers asking for the exact same suit. The man had replied with friendliness and ease, saying that they were faithful followers of Leth. As children they had all had some kind of bond to the person that was now a kind of priest to them. They weren't many, about eight people, and apart from the time they shared under Leth they hardly knew each other. Their priest was the only one who knew them all. Saying he was in no position to explain the concept himself, he had offered Emee to come along this full moon. He could meet the young man outside the stables, and he would take care of navigating to the meeting place. So Emee had done this. He had taken the day off the day he had been told the full moon would be so that he could rest, not wanting to fall asleep outside the safety of the city walls. As promised the young man stood waiting for Emee by the stables, which turned out to be where he made his living. He was a stable boy, and Emee was surprised to learn how a man with such a low job, seemingly boring from Emee's perspective, could be part of some highly religious cult. The stable boy, whom had put on his silk dress before meeting with Emee, seemed to know where to go once they were out of the gates, climbing up rocks and jumping over rivers without as much as a lantern. Nevertheless, Emee had no problem with following him. For every obstacle, the stable boy stopped, waiting patiently for him. It seemed the stable boy knew it would take some time to get to his secret destination with Emee with him, for they had left at sunset and crossed paths with the others just a few chimes before midnight. They kept walking though, and nobody talked to each other, proving the stable boy's statement that nobody knew each other. Only one man, the priest most likely, walked amongst them and spoke lowly to one person at a time, seemingly checking on how they fared in everyday life. When the priest came up to Emee and the stable boy, Emee recognized him as the first person to ask for the dress. He was a tall and beautiful Vantha, seemingly very social in nature. Emee had never met a Vantha before, but this one made him feel at ease when explaining the pursuits of this group of people. He refused to call them a cult, but instead called them entertainers. It was true they were a tiny group of independent followers of Leth, but they did nothing cult-like in their meetings. They did not do animal offerings and rituals, which was what Emee had thought. Why else would they go through the trouble of being so far away from the city, let alone outside the walls at all, if not to do something considered wrong by community? The Vantha explained that when Leth walked over the night sky, he walked alone and without his loved one, Syna. When he first learned the story of Leth and Syna, told to him as a bedtime story by his parents, he had thought that Leth's journey could be nothing but boring. Walking over a silent, sleeping world with only stars and Leth himself lighting it up, there was rarely anything to see. Now, when he stood as an independent person who could do as he pleased, had decided to change Leth's boredom into something exiting. He thought that if they could keep Leth entertained, perhaps he would gift them. Emee thought this was a strange way of coming to the conclusion of becoming a priest for some childhood friends, and to this he answered that in truth, he was only after the blessing of a god. He thought that if he could get the blessing of a god, his social status would increase greatly. Leth seemed like one of the easiest gods to get on the good side of. When the group of people arrived at their destination, a clearing on a hill a couple of rock throws away from the city they had left, The eight people opened up their dresses and let them slide off their naked skin, leaving Emee with a confused look. He thought they would wear the dresses when entertaining the moon, but the stable boy explained to him that their skin was much better noticed when reflecting the light of a full moon, whereas cloth would ruin that reflection. The cloth was simply for not walking around naked before and after this moment. Now that people had no clothes on, Emee could see that the gender and race of the eight varied, the only thing being the same was their age and birthplace. Nevertheless, they all looked like equals under the moon, and the way they now dared talk and look at each other told him that they felt the same way. Incense and musical instruments were bought forth, and whenever people were ready they started dancing. The dance varied from pair dances to solo dancing, and the pace and movements adjusted to the pace of the music of drums and flutes, which seemed highly synchronized and yet nothing but improvisation. This was clearly something they had done many times before. Emee didn't feel comfortable with participating, and had found a rock to sit on while observing. It looked like fun, but he was not ready to take off his own clothes and dance or play music. Maybe, if he could, he would participate the next full moon. After all, there seemed to be nothing wrong with these people and what they did, and he was always free. He had work and he had a schedule, but he should be allowed to take some free time and enjoy something different, should he not? Of course the part with nudity was new to him, and was probably the only thing that kept him from jumping into the dance today, but he promised himself he would make one of these dresses for himself and spend the next full moon dancing in the moonlight. To his surprise, he was not left to his studying during the ceremony. After what seemed like an hour of dance that constantly changed, one of the dancers, a solo dancing woman he had noticed for being very smooth in her movements, yet strikingly fast- her dance was like the hypnotizing dance of a cobra, bending her body to positions that looked like they would break her balance completely- danced over to him, offering a hand. She did not speak to him, but the gesture had an obvious meaning. She wanted him to dance with her. Emee, uncertain after seeing her elegant moves, gulped and raised his hand to meet hers. After all, the worst that could happen was that he fell and embarrassed himself. That would probably happen anyway if he was going to dance the next time. The moment he grabbed hold of the woman's hand, he felt something was wrong. Her skin was like that of a snake, cold and slippery. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, he met the slit eyes of a viper. He gasped and tried to escape her hold of him, but she simply smiled and whirled about on the hill under the moon, leading on and not letting him go. Surprisingly enough he never fell, but he was close to doing so multiple times. When he did, the woman he believed to be of the infamous Dhani adjusted her dance to save his balance with swift steps, making him feel like he was the naked one. This didn't mean he did not enjoy it. The dance was fun, and the adrenaline pumping in his veins marked this as probably the most exiting day after many boring years. If he survived this night, he would be the most foolish prey ever, gladly returning for more. The Dhani smiled and giggled, seeming as if she was just playing, while he was having the time of his life and sweating to keep up with her. After what seemed like an eternity, she dropped her pace and let Emee get his breath back. It was then he noticed the others, clearing away the incense and getting dressed again. He looked up at the moon, which had nearly reached the horizon. He raised his eyebrows, surprised that they had danced throughout the night. His entire body trembling, he let go of the woman's hand and took a step back. The Vantha priest stepped up to them, smiling at the Dhani and Emee. He gave the Dhani her dress and nodded towards the stable boy, telling Emee to follow him back to the city gates. Emee, not in any condition to talk just yet, simply nodded and swayed towards the stable boy.

[Emee]

Timestamp: 510 AV, 14th day of winter. Late night. Emee zoomed out of the memory. He could remember this, could confirm that this was indeed his life. He could recall making those dresses, and how soft they felt on his skin, how he had stayed up as long as he could making them. And when he made one for himself, how light it felt on his body. His fine craftsmanship helped, as he had made sure each dress had no hard spots or tight areas as well as a minimal surface, but he knew that what really made the difference between this and a normal, cheap dress, was the cloth. He hadn't seen anything like it before, and he had treated a lot of fine materials in his time. He figured it had to be a kind of cloth from before the valterrian, scavenged from a temple. He remembered the snake-woman he came to love, the woman who had taught him to dance like her. He wondered what had become of her after he ascended to the Ukalas, but he let it be. He didn't want to be consumed by his past, only peek at certain spots in his life. He had a reason for this voyage, and he did not find the answer here. He wanted to know what kind of person he had been in a specific past life, the life he got his Eypharian body from. But still, this was the life he had led before immortality. Another peek couldn't hurt. He pushed his mind one a couple of more years back, to his childhood. He wanted to know what his parents were like.

[Emee]

Timestamp: 461 AV, midddle of Fall Unaware of the future and the path he would take, a young boy with blond, poorly looked after hair stood balancing on the edge of a boulder-like rock that stood deeply planted into the earth and yet tall on the surface. If this rock stood alone, it would be three times bigger than the little boy playing on top of it. The little boy, who carried the name Emee, knew that he shouldn't be this high up, and he imagined that the big rock was probably mad at the rocks that stood around it because they had arranged themselves in a manner so that Emee, if jumping just right, could reach the biggest rock, the one he was on now. It was probably the Daddy Rock... and that one over there was the Mommy Rock and her rocky sister, Aunt Rock. Those were two rocks that stood next to each other, almost shaping a V. Then there was the Sister Rock, which leaned over the next rock as if scolding it for going too far, Brother Rock. That rock was just as high as Emee, and he had even painted a face of red mud so that it could talk to Emee if it wanted to. Brother Rock was his bestest friend, and he was sorry he had to step on his shoulders to get to Daddy Rock. But there was a tiny, flat plateau rock next to Brother Rock too. That was Kitty Rock. Kitty Rock's fur was a bit hard, but that was fine with Emee. When the sun shone on Kitty Rock's fur, Emee used to lie next to Kitty Rock and stroke his cheek on the rock, absorbing it's warmth. It reminded him of how much he liked sitting in front of a fire during winter, and that was nice to be reminded of in the summer. "Emee! Why are you up there now again? You had better get down from there before dad sees you, or he'll have you do the butter for the rest of the week!" Emee flinched, and looked down at his bigger sister, who was standing on the ground with her arms crossed and her usual 'I'm bigger than you, so I get to look down at you'-look on her face. Emee didn't want to stop bothering Daddy Rock, but nor would he like to have his father scold him and have him churn the butter for a whole week. Fall was a busy season, with their grain needing to be cut and making sure the animals would stay warm. And knitting the wool from the sheep and whatever other hair they had excessive amounts of into winter clothes. He knew a little bit about knitting and making clothes. The maid on the farm had been the daughter of a man in the nearby city, and he had made a living for the family by sewing all kinds of clothes. The entire family that had lived with him had that profession, or so the maid had said. That seemed like relaxing work, and to Emee more attractive than becoming the head of the family here, taking over his father's title. Therefore, Emee had asked the maid about pretty much he could think of related to the profession. She had even agreed to teach him how to handle a needle and thread, knitting needles and hand cards. She had taught him the theory part of handling a spinning wheel as well, but she wouldn't let him mess up anything by operating it. She had told him, to his reassurance, that she had never had to use the spinning wheel in her career in the family business. Her mother always went to a close farm or the market to buy sufficient yarn and other refined materials, and she believed he could do the same when the time came. Emee made the final jump from the boulder that looked like someone of his age, and stared at his sister. Her name way Anya. He disliked that name, probably because it was hers. It made him think of the taste of dirty water for some reason. He knew he wasn't allowed to be on the rocks, but she rarely got this far away from the farm just to tell him to get down. Not to mention she hardly ever bothered telling him, probably thinking he was better off falling down and hurting himself. She saw the curiosity in his eyes, and sighed. "It's dinner time, and after that it's bedtime for you. You need to learn how to keep track of the sun. That way I wouldn't have to look after you all the time, like you are some kind of... animal." She spat the last word out like some kind of curse, and when she turned her back on him to walk over the field and over to the farmhouse, he felt as if she had said she wished he was an animal. This didn't bother him. He'd love to be an animal, with no chores and no rules. What bothered him was that she used the word animal like animals were bad. But Emee didn't say anything, following his sister as he raised his right arm to shade for his eyes as he looked up at the sun. It was low on the sky, but he had completely lost track of it when he played. When Emee sat down by the table, his father, sister and mother were already by the table, waiting impatiently for him. Their maid ate alone: the lateness of the kids was nothing knew, and she had adapted to this by not having to wait, taking two portions of food before it came to the table and returning to her duties when she had finished her food. When Emee saw the look on his father's face, he wished the rest of the household would do the same, or at least his father. His name was Bjorn, and a halfblood Isur. Emee's grandfather, a fullblood, real to the bone and flesh Isur had visited a few times when Emee was younger, but he didn't do that anymore and Emee couldn't remember anything but his bright eyes, shining with wisdom and power. The journey was long, and he was getting old. Apparently he had other things he needed to attend to in his own home. Maybe he had another family there? "As always, you are late. If it hadn't been for that at least some of the family members had manners, I'd be on my second round already. The soup is cold, and for what? So that you could play, no doubt on those boulders again. The boulders I've told you not to climb. If my father was here he'd no doubt tear those rocks away for your own safety. He is a real man, a man who knew what he wanted to be when that day came, and always stood there for the family cause. He helped us buy this farm, he helped raise you. And here you are, mocking your bloodline by not knowing your place in the world. I expect you to take the farm when I grow older, and I want to see you expanding our bounds further before my days are over. I'd be smart to have a wife ready for you, so that someone could point you in the right direction." Emee didn't look up a single time under his father's speech. He could feel the tears wanting out, but Emee closed his eyes and tried to think about something else. It worked, until his father's hand struck the table to make him pay attention. Not only his attention did he achieve, but everyone else around the table as well. Even the maid, busy with taking in dry clothes for the night, looked in at them with a worried look on her face. Emee swore even the dead pig cut into pieces and lying in the soup on the table was listening to Bjorn. Emee tried to say something in protest, but the irritation in his father was so clear that he felt he could see it. Not just in his eyes, if he dared meet them, but like an aura. An aura that made his tongue go numb, it seemed. Of course it wasn't real, there was no aura and Emee's tongue wasn't numb. But it felt real, and after a series of attempts to speak his mind Emee burst into tears. Like a knife over a tie in his neck, Emee suddenly found that he could speak again, bursting out and sulking, "I don't wanna," was all he could manage though, before overwhelming himself in tears. "You don't 'wanna'? Speak out loud and speak appropriately when facing your father. And cut out those tears, that is no way for a man to be. And if you're not going to work here, where do you think you could get work? In the city? Don't be ridiculous. You would never make anything good out of yourself there. And what is to be of the farm if you're not here? You may seem incompetent, but I'm not giving my life to your sister. It's not in a woman's place to lead a farm." Bjorn paused, and looked at his wife, Emee's mother. Anna. She had pulled him carefully in the arm to get him to look at her and Emee's sister. Anya was sobbing, or so Emee could hear. His eyes were too blurred by his own tears to see, but he could see that she looked away, trying to hide her face. "Don't talk of our daughter in that way, Bjorn. You might not see it, but there is a strong leader in her. If you would let her, I'm sure she would have the farm prospering in just some years. I wish you could see the same as I." Anna's voice was high enough to make an impression on Bjorn, and soothing enough not to seem hostile to him. Emee had seen Anya do the same, when she felt like it. He thought it was something Anna had taught her, and Anna had probably learned it from her mother again. The maid had told him about skills running in the bloodlines, being shared from mother to daughter. It was a thing they did when the men they married were unreasonable and needed persuasion, a manner of weighting up for what they lacked in physical might. While Anna's words did pop the bubble of his father's raging mood, he didn't give up. He started talking lowly to Anna, and Emee was relieved to see that the attention to him was gone, at least for now. Not wanting to confront his father about this again, even after he had talked to his mother, Emee hurriedly ate his food and sneaked off to bed, crawling under the warm blanket and closing his eyes at once. He might not fall asleep yet, but he would pretend to be sleeping.

[Emee]

Timestamp: 510 AV, 14th day of winter. Midnight. Emee pulled out of the memory. He was fighting himself not to lose his concentration, because he knew that he had been crying himself when reliving these memories. He was glad that life was long gone, and shook the thoughts of it away for now, letting the memories of a different life stream into his mind. For this life he was unsure what awaited him. He remembered books, and lots of them. And a tall roof in a big room with shelves making it seem like a maze for those who did not know how to navigate in the mess. It all had a system in it, obvious for those who could read. And in this life, reading had been important. Reading and being able to reach out for things. Emee was unsure of the meaning this held, but he would soon find out.

[Emee]

Timestamp: 345 AV, winter Rugh let his fists find the ground to keep him stable in his slow, humping walk around the library he and a few other Jamoura kept in order. The library held a fine collection of books of study. Not all were that good copies, and some weren't even whole, but Rugh was pretty sure that if you looked for a knowledge, if anywhere this would be where to find it. But then, there wasn't as much knowledge left in the world anymore, not after the Valterrian. Rugh believed that the gods had a fine handful of wisdom, but they were just gods. They played at power, and what they had of both muscle and brains they would know best to keep to themselves. Even the humans should not be given the knowledge a god could hold, with their little grasp of things and their disloyalty. They liked to grasp for power too, and playing the lapdog of a god was therefor quite appropriate for humans. As always, Ruth was in a good mood. There wasn't any particular reason for his mood, he just liked to be happy. Even as sentient beings did as best as they could to rebuild after their wars, even as his race seemed more a flock than a race, even as he watched people around him die, he kept smiling. There was no end to things after all, even the past would come back and replay some day. Lost knowledge would be rediscovered with ages, purpose would be re-found, and wars would be started for those purposes, only to be ended by another reason. Many sighed at him for this theory, and said that he should care more about the present. And it was only a theory, based on what he had seen and what he knew. But he was certain, so it seemed more than just a theory still. He wished someone could hear him out on this and believe him, but he didn't try too hard to get it through. He would be simply a bother, and eventually there would come another one who believed. He'd write a book if he had the time, but watching over this library took too much of his time. He had time for thinking, and that was in truth all he ever wanted. Before he started work here he had been a student, forced to think about a certain matter in a certan manner at a desired time. That was too much for him, and although he learned quickly and with ease, it felt hard. He had dropped out of learning a skill called Projection, and his teacher had seen this a great disgrace. Ruth didn't care about disgrace, honor and norms though, so he paid no more mind to his former teacher. But he hadn't forgotten the teachings. They were indeed useful and strangely coincidental, especially in this library with shelves stretching for the ceiling far above him. Fetching a ladder took time, and those who wished to study here had little patience. He could climb up too, but he feared he would harm some of the books. He might as well put use to it. And just then he stopped, for he realized he was with the shelf he looked for. The man who had asked him to get a book had requested a simple list of basic words from the old tongue, most likely for magic purposes. This was the linguistics section, and the bookshelf was dedicated to copies of pre-valterrian language. To keep people who walked around in the library from snatching or accidentally damaging a copy of the old tongue, these texts were high on the shelf. With the mind of a experienced practitioner he focused on himself and let his hand go. For him it helped to rub on the location he wanted to start with using his other hand, imagining his fingers melting away the bond in his ethereal limbs. Already now he felt his hand tickling, and soon it was completely numb. When he could confirm that there was no feeling left in his arm he started softly patting his skin, going towards the tip of his fingers as he imagined that he was shoving his astral arm out of his arm. He did some slow shaking movements with his sleeping hand, shaking the astral arm completely off. A new tickle went through his hand as he regained control and feeling in it, and now he opened his eyes. His right arm was lying over his left arm, which held it up. Like a torch, a brightly glowing arm floated in the air above his "real" arm. With Rugh's command the arm floated upwards to the book he wanted, and in no time the book was in his left hand, Rugh's right arm slowly coming back to life as his astral arm wrapped itself around his arm and sliding under his skin. He studied his arm, bended it a bit, and made sure everything was there. It was interesting and refreshing to do, and yet it was strange and scary. He always made sure he felt no pain from the act, but he also made sure he could feel pain in the limb by poking and pinching his arm. When he was sure he had his feelings, he took the book in his right hand and humped his way to the study area on the west side of the library. It was a long walk for someone with his patience in walking, but he didn't mind. That meant more time for philosophy.

[Emee]

Timestamp: 510 AV, 15th day of winter. After midnight/way too early in the morning. Emee didn't feel that he needed to see more of this life, so he pulled out. He had led a seemingly boring life, but his ideas had been wise. If he ever needed advice, he knew where to look for it. What caught his attention was that he had used some kind of magic. Projection, he had called it... He couldn't understand just what he had done when he took his arm off, and much less when his arm had fetched a book far over his head. It seemed dangerous, as careful as he had been when using it. Emee decided to go far back this time, one last time. There was something lying back there, something powerful and restless. Something that even now after what must be several hundreds of ages between, he could feel deep within. Not alive, but a part of it seemed to have clinged on to him over all these years. Almost alive. This life must have been special to him. Maybe this was who he really was?

[Emee]

Timestamp: 220 AV, summer Tshouh stood in a dimly lit room that looked like a subtle mix of a battle plans room and a bedroom. By the walls stood stacks of parchment, only broken by an occasional torch. A table with unit counts seemingly randomly placed somewhere to the right in the room was accompanied In the middle of the room was a big bed, and on the night stand was a book on military tactics and a burning candle. On the ground next to it was a map, no doubt of the area around the fort he was currently visiting. Too bad Tsouh didn't know how to read maps, or he could find out which way home was. Well, if he wasn't here to do more important things he could, but he was here for only one purpose, and that was challenging the disgusting, cruel lowlife of a warlord that sat on his cushions right before Tshouh. When he was in situations like these it was that he liked to take a breath and let his heart get back in pace as he enjoyed the thought of having infiltrated a supposedly safe base. There was, however, something unsettling about this place. He wasn't sure what it was, but something was amiss. He felt watched over, even though he wore the armor of a messenger he had impersonated. He had hid his two other arms inside the armor, and even though he was thinner than the average soldier he looked slightly fat with his hands making his belly poke out. He didn't think this made it obvious that he was an intruder though. All the guards looked like they had spent a lot of time training and had a great deal of muscle, but he was just pretending to be a messenger... "What is the message?", said the man sitting in front of Tshouh and reached out his arm, showing that he wanted the scroll Tshouh was holding. Tshouh stood up, and clutched the scroll at a specific spot to be sure that he was holding it correctly. Then he stabbed the warlord that sat before him in the reaching arm, a thin and needle-like blade hidden inside the scroll piercing his skin and going deep into a pillow. The warlord, nothing but a wild creature in Tshouh's eyes, gasped as he realized what had happened to his hand. He was about to scream, but Tshouh was already over him with a pillow to mute the scream. When the creature under Tshouh ran out of air to scream with he removed the pillow and punched the wild thing in the throat while holding it's head up with his other arm. The being stopped trying to resist, and Tshouh let his hand over his throat to check for his pulse. It was weak, and it was clear that the beast was dying. He also felt that the throat was completely soft, so it most likely couldn't breathe. He could have left him now and know his mission was succeeded, but instead he lifted the heavy thing up from the ground and slammed it towards the wall. The hit was weak because of Tshouh's lack of strength for lifting, but blood came up from the animal's mouth anyway. Tshouh banged the creature's head to the wall multiple times until he felt a warm goo from the creature's head running down his fingers. Now he was satisfied, and let the dead manimal fall to the ground. Then he turned around to face the only door in the room, drawing his two short swords as he pushed on the chest of his clothes with his two other pairs of arms. He had weakened the cloth before going in here, so with enough pressure his clothes should be easy to rip from the inside.

[Emee]

Twh didn't even get to count the seconds after his hit had fallen to the moment where the door was opened and the two sturdy guards that had been standing outside peeked into the room, and as soon as they saw the collapsed warlord by Twh's side they drew their blades. There were no questions as to what had happened or who the intruder was, as these were soldiers and not civilians. Judging by the way they held their big bastard swords, they were either generals or elites, sworn to protect the now dead warlord. And yet they didn't seem to expect too much from Tshouh, as they approached him with little care. Typical for humans, they would assume from his choice of disguise and his- by human standards- untrained body, that he was a rebellious young man with dreams of glory and no skill. After all, he had two short blades at his belt. There was no way those wiggly little arms could handle two swords at once and still accomplish something in a fight. So without any further thoughts, the first one walked up to him and reached for his neck, raising his other arm to swing the blade at him, probably with the blunt side- there was no reason to kill the assassin just yet when they could torture him for what he had done, and maybe he could be used for labor too. Twh extended his arms, and like four battering rams they ripped away the tunic that had concealed them and pushed the guard away, just enough for Twh to step to the side before the blade reached him. The guard behind him saw this, and the look on his face told Tshouh what he wanted to take the assassin a little bit more seriously now. He shouted something down the hallway, something in a language Tshouh did not recognize. Voices and the sound of running feet reached him, and Tshouh decided that now was the right time to draw his blades. And just in time too, for the guard he had pushed back had regained his balance now and came running at him for another hit. He held the blade so that it was obvious to Tshouh that he would strike him at the side, and as a response Tshouh held up his left sword by the side of his body to protect him from the upcoming blow as he slammed his shoulder into the man that came at him, hitting him in the arm he was supposed to swing with and weakening the hit of his enemy's sword to his side. Tshouh grabbed the sword-arm with two hands and kept the guard's other arm down with two other hands. With a step here and there, Tshouh stood behind the guard with the guard's arms pulled up to his neck. By now the surprised man had dropped his sword, and if not he would have dropped it as Tshouh plunged his two swords into each of his armpits, cutting two arteries and rendering his two arms useless. He turned around to find the room suddenly filled with guards, and a moment of silence rested over the room as they stared at the dead guard in a puddle of redness, killed right before them. Then they drew bows, perhaps ten of them, and more still running in the hallways. Realizing he was cornered, he took a deep breath as he threw his blades at the crowd of guards to distract them as he picked up the dead guard and held him up as a shield using all six arms. One or two archers must have been hit by the swords, because he could hear the screams of humans followed by the sound of arrows flying off their strings. Then sounds of flesh being penetrated by thin projectiles, and for a moment Twh felt that he had successfully deflected the arrows without any damage to himself. Then the burning pain of a wound came, and Twh steeled himself so that he wouldn't scream. He was better than the humans. He could live with pain. He looked over himself to see where he had been hit, and saw that almost all the arrows had gone through the dead guard and making wounds on him. They were probably a thumb deep, and Twh knew that this was too deep. He would die from bleeding soon. He felt his power draining, and unwillingly dropped the dead body to the ground. Finding himself in open space with too many arrows pointed at his face for him to count, he jumped and halfway staggered over to the pile of pillows his target had been lying on. Just as he heard the arrows leaving their bows, he crouched down to slide under the pillows and relative safety. He couldn't help but scream as his legs were pierced by arrows, feeling like burning needles being pushed through his legs. At least he was under the pillows now, so the scream was probably too low for the human pigs to hear. Now everything was dark, but he kept pushing himself further into the pile of pillows, slowly and not at all sure of where the guards were. He sighed and lied down on the cold stone floor under him as he no longer felt capable of moving his body. He wasn't sure when he would die, or if he already was dead, but he could still feel the pain in his legs. Wanting to keep conscious for as long as possible so that he could show the humans what true strength was, he refused to close his eyes and let go. But then a glimmer of light and metal appeared before him, and he could feel his mouth being pushed open by a heavy and big sword. Then the pain stopped.

[Emee]

OOC note :

Tarot has approved of my unmodded inclusion of Lhex in this post.

Timestamp: 15th of winter 510 AV, sunrise A flash of red in the darkness, another world that Emee could recognize as the Ukalas world flashing by, and then a tiny room with a desk in it. On the desk, papers. Behind the desk, a greatly amused old man who probably hadn't seen a razor and a mirror for a millennium. He had a thick laughter that made Emee feel like he should break out in laughter with him, but also made him want to cry for being harassed by this man, this man that he didn't even know. Or did he? He remembered the face, he remembered the beard. He remembered the eyes, but the emotions were new to Emee. He had never seen him amused before. Was it a good thing? Who was he really? Then, suddenly, the man's expressions changed and his eyes stared at him. Stared through him, into him, past him. Then all was black again. Syna pried his eyes open with beams of light stretching through his window, and Emee found himself back in his room. But he wasn't really there. He was focused on himself, reflecting, thinking about blood and dead souls flying away from their homey bodies. Was he a killer? What he had seen tonight told him that he was indeed a killer. And he lacked respect for life. Had he cared about the gods? Probably not. Emee twitched as he forced his body to react, and he felt that his hair was wet. His pillow was soaked in tears, and tears were still running down Emee's cheeks. His body was shaking and his mind clouded by doubt and shame, and without warning Emee jumped startled back with a squeal as flashes of blood all over his walls and dead bodies on the floor appeared before him, seeming realer than reality for one moment and disappearing the next moment. All the gods and all the creatures in the world looked down at him with shame. Sulking, Emee closed his eyes and staggered backwards until he felt his naked body against a corner in his room. He let himself fall to the floor as he hugged his knees with all six arms. He hadf been curious about this other body that he changed into at day, though he disliked having two completely different bodies. He understood now, that this other body must be punishment for what he had done. A reminder, now that he knew what he had been. Emee dried away his tears and stood up, his legs still shaky. The flashes of blood and death had stopped, so keeping his balance seemed easier now. Still, he probably used a few minutes crossing the room to get to his clothes and put them on. When he looked out of the window he could see that people were starting to move around, proof that he had been crying for quite some time. He wiped his nose once on his sleeve, took a breath, and walked outside. Nobody knew, only him. They didn't hate him, because they didn't know. And he would never harm another creature ever again. This he swore as he walked out of his room, his hand on his necklace.

Finished!