Closed Oaths and Allegiances

[GST for Dessarian] Training for answers...

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Oaths and Allegiances

Postby Rohka on September 14th, 2019, 5:05 am

81st of Fall, 519 AV

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That man was supposed to be meat for the half-Zith’s family.

Zordon had paid careful attention to the Damazar since he’d first spotted the blond-haired bastard talking to the other Svefra that had arrived on the shore. It had taken the mage quite the journey to find the man he’d been tasked to look for: A warrior who was stupid enough to fall into a trap, and blind enough to miss the truth of his situation back in Sunberth.

Shaking his head with a smile, the half-zith walked forward, barefoot in the sand, watching the tides wash over the rocks. He was looking forward to seeing his old friend. There was a time when they were more aptly called enemies, but Zordon only hoped that they had both let bygones be bygones.

That is, if Dessarian Damazar was indeed still on his side.

A part of Zordon wished he hadn’t told the warrior’s men about the Svefra rumour from long ago. The rumour that there had been a silver eyed Kelvic sea eagle that was traded to the gangs in Sunberth. If he hadn’t told Dess about the lucky Kelvic, none of this would've ever come to pass. They could've both stayed peacefully ignorant amongst their now dead brothers and sisters. But even he could admit that the loss of the K’etir had been a blow to the Damazar’s ego and pride. Zordon had been relieved to finally get the chance to see his private foe have fire in his eyes again, knowing that his promised creature might be safe.

They’d grown up together, Zordon and Dess, more or less. Don was many seasons older than the warrior, but while one was experiencing the beginnings of adolescence, the other was in the middle of his blooming rebellious youth. They’d shared similar training where they were from and had both come to learn the basics of The Flux, which had been standard for the Damazars and Drust at the time. But the half-zith had far more interest in his own family’s specialties, which involved some magics that caused more trouble than they were worth, in hindsight.

Zordon continued to walk along the shore when he spotted a dark blue pebble. He bent down, picking up the smooth stone, and turned it over in his hand. His loose-fitting pants of light linen allowed the movement easily but the weight in his rucksack and the axe belted to his side made him adjust his balance using a hand placed on the ground. With a swish of his fingers gesturing in different directions before an arching arm, he sent the stone flying through the air, making it skip across the water multiple times, his half-zith eyes squinting in the light as he watched it sink in the distance.

He'd been angry with himself. Furious, knowing that he’d let his friend follow the sorry symbol of their demise.

Hey Don, at least you’re here now, remember? We just need to find out where his allegiance is, after all this time you’ve both spent apart, okay? You never know, maybe nothing changed. On the bright side, he’s alive!

The voice in his head came from the kitten that was leisurely following along beside him. They were both waiting by the sand, about twenty feet away from the Damazar that they’d come to meet at last.

Yea, I know he’s alive, flesh n’ bones, he looks a lot better than when he was in the Pits. Zordon looked at Kitty, his red-orange familiar, cocking a grey brow when he found the strange creature playing with the water, watching its paws turn to smoke and back to its solid form. The mage groaned and walked forward.

It was time to introduce himself.

“Dessarian, old friend,” he called out, waiting until familiar blue eyes turned to meet pitch black ones filled with a certain curious spirit. “Wysar, it has been too long,” Zordon smirked. “Many have died, and yet here we are. You must have found her, I imagine,” he paused here, searching the Damazar’s gaze for any hint of his current loyalties.

“Missed me?”

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Oaths and Allegiances

Postby Dessarian on September 19th, 2019, 1:10 pm

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Dess attempted to spend a little time with each Svefra vessel that docked at the Demesne. The Pods were not only a valuable part of the Meraki economy, but a vital source of news and information. He had made sure to become acquainted with each crew, finding the members who were the most willing to talk, with the least amount of embellishment.

While he conversed with the visitors, Dess' gaze deftly kept the man in view, over the shoulder of the Svefra sailor with which he conversed. The stranger was very familiar. The curious man lingered, as if waiting for the conversation between the Damazar and the Svefra to end.

It did, with Dess and the Svefra captain clasping hands before the crew headed towards their craft. Only then did the man move closer, a familiar voice paired with a familiar set of black eyes. Eyes that could have belonged to a Zith.

Zordon.

The man was an element of Dess's life that came and went like the locusts that disappeared for years at a time, only to return to plague the world. While he could be trecherous, the half-Zith had proven a boon at times as well, almost as if he, or some deity, worked to ensure a balance of advantage and disadvantage in knowing the mage. Dess's use for the man swung like a pendulum as well. He would consider his current feelings as cautiously amenable. After all, it was Zordon's men who tipped him on the presence of a kelvic fitting Kelski's description in Sunberth. Without the rakish mage, Dess would not have found Kelski. Though, being tossed into the Pits almost prevented it. He still suspected some conspiracy that lead to his thwarted fate as Zith food.

"Zordon." Dess acknowledge the visitor, guarding his tone from betraying any emotion.

Dess didn't feel comforted that Zordon was there. Had the man come specifically to find him? If so, it was disturbing to know that he could. Dess and Kelski took steps to avoid anything that would identify them as Damazar and K'etir, to prevent Drust discovery.

"Nice cat." He knew the creature to be a familiar. "It has been a long time. And many have died, or so I am told." He wondered how much Zordon knew of the massacre. He always seemed to know what was going on within the families, although his welcome among them came and went with the waves of his loyalty. Why his father never sent Dess to kill Zordon was a mystery. Maybe because, at one point, Zordon was as close as family. Besides, they knew the same tricks, they had learned them together. Dess didn't mention anything about Kelski as of yet, not until her could discern the Zith mongrel's intentions.

"I do appreciate the word from your men about Sunberth. Though, I fell into some unfortunate circumstances while there." He wondered if Zordon knew about that too. "What brings you here, old friend?" The last words were spoken with questionable sincerity.
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Oaths and Allegiances

Postby Rohka on September 22nd, 2019, 12:35 am

“Trust. As always,” he smiled, expecting the justified suspicion from the Damazar. “I’m here because I’ve been asked to find you, Dess,” he said, resorting to the common family nickname. “Your father knew where you’d gone and I volunteered to, well,”

Zordon paused as his familiar poof’d into existence on his shoulder.

Ask him, quickly. It’ll be fine, relax. Be glad that he’s breathing and he can help us now, right? The kitten nuzzled against the crook of the half-zith’s neck. By the looks of his empty hands, he could use a bit of responsibility, don’t you think?

A smile appeared on Zordon’s face as he walked closer to his childhood connection. He’d been waiting a long time to finally be able to check-in on the young man, hoping things hadn’t changed since the last time they’d seen each other. A lot of that shallow well of hope had been filled by Kitty. In reality, if he found the truth within his very own nature, Zordon was in complete disbelief. The thirty-eight year old creature had all but ceased to put faith in a Damazar’s ability to be at peace with one resolution.

“I volunteered to remind you of your purpose, Damazar.” He said, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You wanted to find her, and we happily sent you off to do so. I trust you’ve found her. Or rather,” he looked down to the sand and stopped in his tracks.

“She found you.” He looked up at his friend again, a small smile on his lips. It was true that the young Damazar had been betrayed—sent to the Pits to fight for his life, and then soon after to the slave market, where the K’etir had miraculously found him. Zordon knew that much because he’d been so close to finally fulfilling his wretched duty without a single ounce of blood on his hands. The half-zith didn’t know whether he should’ve been elated or miserable when his men told him that Dess had been bought.

Truthfully, he’d been indifferent.

“Have you been keeping her safe ever since? Let me guess,” he smirked, turning away from the Damazar to look out into the waters. “You’re happier here than you’ve ever been anywhere else. Perhaps even Kalistan couldn’t pull you back,” he let out a small chuckle, memories of their youth flooding into his mind. Of games won and lost. Of children trained and challenged. The clanging of metals and the grunts of innocent strengths willing to flight for their families, in the name of the Gods.

“I get it,” he looked back at Dess now, an apologetic smile on his weathering features. “You’ve always been true to your word. When you told us you would do anything to get her back, we all knew that you meant it with every fibre of your being. You two are special,” he said, his brows raising in admittance of a simple truth. “I don’t think you understand how I felt when I was told that you’d escaped your,” he paused, looking back at the waters, recalling how the Damazar had described it.

“Unfortunate circumstances.”

You’re taking a long time to ask him, Don. Stop thinking that he’s stupid, what’s wrong with you, just get to the point, you’re boring me.

Zordon took a quick glance at his kitten and glared. You weren’t around where we grew up, Kitty. Calm down. I’ll do this my way and you’ll get your entertainment when I’m ready.

The kitten poof’d into a cloud of red smoke around the half-zith, covering his body, leaving the area around his head clear for Zordon to see and speak.

“This is Kitty, by the way. I don’t think you’ve met her. She and I first became acquainted in Sahova, actually. Kitty is a little impatient with me right now. I told her a lot about you while we were sailing so she’s been looking forward to meeting you. She’s been in my ear trying to get me to talk to you about our past. Gods, she was beyond excited when our rescuer told us a Svefran rumour about a Kelvic around these parts, making jewelry. It seemed too good to be true but I convinced the Captain to make a stop here. You see, I’ve always known that you’ve only ever cared for the people closest to you, Dessarian,” Zordon paused, uncrossing his arms now, placing his hands on his hips. Both men stood eye to eye.

“But I need you to think more broadly, while I’m here at least. I need to understand how far your duty to the Damazars truly extends. If you are as aware of the deaths as I am, then you know they were sanctioned.”

He took a moment to let that sink in.

“The Drust. Known primarily for the trust they instilled,” Zordon shook his head at this, seeming to feel exhausted just talking about it. “Hence the self-made name. The Damazars have always just done what they do best—be the tools for control. You and I agreed, once, long ago, that the eventual violence would have due cause.

“Tell me,” he said, boring his gaze into the Damazar’s depths. “Where is your allegiance now?”

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Oaths and Allegiances

Postby Dessarian on September 30th, 2019, 1:58 pm

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Dess stood with his hands on his hips as he examined the unforseen half-zith. His appearance was like a haunting, dragging behind him a world that was becoming a lifetime away in Dess's mind. Zordon suggested he had come from Dess's father in search of a prodigal son. It was the first inkling that his Damazar father was still alive. Even Darcee could not assure him of her uncle's fate one way or another, nor could Lynneah or Kalistan when he arrived.

While questions erupted, they were kept still behind his tongue. Zordon wasn't there to visit, or to join the Meraki, he was there urge his return. Return to what? What was left? The more the half-zith spoke the more the questions burned within Dess.

"My allegiance?" Dess asked Zordon in a perturbed tone. "Is there anything left to give allegiance to?" I was told the Damazar and K'etir were slaughtered by the Drust. I have laid low here, assuming they were bent on hunting us all down, hoping to keep her safe." Seemed like Zordon already knew he had found Kelski, but Dess would not volunteer that other survivors, Darcee, Kallistan, Ember, the Zrevans, also lived at the Demesne.

"My allegiance lies with my bondmate and those I have taken in as family. My allegiance is to what we are buidling here, because I believed the Damazar-K'etir were gone. Are you telling me they are not?" Dess took a step forward, the intensity narrowing his azure gaze upon the mage. "Should I ask where your allegiance lies?"

It appeared his family had sent Zordon to fetch him. And that may be, especially if the Drust were hunting the families. The half-zith was not family so his mission would be easier to conceal. But there were too many holes. What had happened with his family? How much did Zordon know of the incidents in Sunberth? "Is my father alive?" Dess asked his tone easing as he saw a glimpse of sincerity in the curious man's eyes.
Last edited by Dessarian on October 30th, 2019, 11:41 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Oaths and Allegiances

Postby Rohka on October 30th, 2019, 1:12 am

Dess was met with a moment of silence as the half-zith contemplated on what would be the best way to answer the barrage of questioning. Zordon was grimacing now, the cloud of Kitty’s dark blooded air surrounding him as he looked off into the waters, the tides gently lapping at their feet. The Damazar had a right to know the truth, but the truth wouldn’t be nearly as good as crafting a hopeful new beginning. The process of crafting and weaving and pulling at the strings of knowledge they both shared had the potential to bring about more of Zordon’s strengths in the matters at hand.

He turned his head back to Dess and sighed, beginning to take a few steps closer to him, allowing himself to stand more to the side, facing the view behind the Damazar. He could see the Svefra mulling about, a pair of them catching his gaze before they looked away and continued to unload their cargo. Dess had spoken to them earlier and he could only assume that it had been about business of some sort. It was clear now that the Damazar intended to build a life here, bonded to the family he wished to support, away from the troubles that they’d been able to escape.

Escape was never an option, for the half-zith.

“Well,” he began, bringing a hand up to clasp Dessarian’s shoulder gently. “Your father wanted you to become something. Do you remember what that was? Do you even remember what it meant to be a Damazar?”

Answering a question with a question was one of Zordon’s many favoured tactics. He wondered whether Dess still believed in the Damazar’s convictions anymore, since coming out to this place to find the creature he’d been looking for. He wondered if he still held any emotional burdens over the murders done to control the use of magic over the years, and whether he even cared for his family’s generational purpose.

Zordon kept his focus on the view behind his old friend, letting his mental strings of Djed loose within his arm and channelling it to the points in his fingertips.

“It’s a shame, hearing you question whether there’s anything left. What’s left of you, hm?” The flowing mental strings continued to multiply as the half-zith used his other hand to aid his Djed’s movement, crossing his index and ring finger, letting the gesture combine pathways within his arm and aid his concentration.

“Have you forgotten the reasons for your trainings as a child? You think laying low is the best way to keep your family safe?”

Don, you’re provoking a fight with him. I think you should calm down, listen to him, maybe he’s willing to help you. There’s no need to make him into an enem—

“I’m here because of my allegiance to your father,” he said, ignoring Kitty’s words. “Because unlike you, I am a Damazar by choice. They say blood is thicker than water, but I’ve crossed waters for the blood of those I’ve been loyal to, all these years. Why would you care for whether your bloody father is dead or alive, hm? After leaving him? Leaving home to build something under the mere assumption that your family is dead?”

The hand that had been holding Dessarian’s shoulder suddenly gripped him with full force. Zordon pushed the Djed downwards, unleashing the wrapped strings that he’d formed in his arm. With any luck, the Flux would be enough to surge a level of pain that would shake the Damazar out of his comfort zone. Zordon avoided seeing his friend’s reaction, keeping his dark gaze fixed on the Svefra that were now all busy either on deck or walking away.

The half-zith would begin to pull his strands of Djed back from his fingers and into his other hand, preparing for retaliation of any sort.

“Don’t hurt him!”

The ethereal, airy voice released from the wispy cloud that now moved upwards, distractingly into view.

There was no telling who the voice had meant to address.

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Oaths and Allegiances

Postby Dessarian on November 8th, 2019, 2:14 pm

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Why did he come, why now? Dess had wrestled the very ghosts of family that Zordon so bluntly flung up at him. The Damazar had spent countless hours in meditation, exercising, training. He had told Kelski it was his way, it was how he remained fit to defend their home and people. He didn't think he was fooling her, and the Gem could see through him as well. It was also how he silenced the ghosts in his head that demanded vengeance, that derided him for turning his back to the Families. But he had an answer for those voices, answers that had satisfied Dess, except in the moments of darkness when the voices still echoed in his mind.

He kept silent as Zordon's rhetoric waxed in intensity and accusation. The hand on Dess's shoulder was the gesture of a friend, or so it seemed. He had no reason to suspect his old acquaintance would instigate a confrontation so soon, and did not reach to brush his hand across the blue flame embedded in the skin at the back of his neck, to invoke the gift of Wysar that could have warned him.

The pressure of the hand didn't alter at all, until the sudden forceful push powered by djed magic. It wrenched at Dess's shoulder, propelling the joint down and threatening to tug him off balance. But his body reacted without thought, bending with the pressure, his feet shifting and pivoting slightly to redirect the line of motion and steal the power of momentum. Did Zordon think he had forgotten their training?

Dess had no time to summon his own djed, which he could not yet gather instantly. But as he moved, he reached up to grasp the half-zith's wrist, pulling it with his turning motion. His other arm swung around, the heel of his palm aimed to strike the mage's elbow as Zordon's arm straightened in hopes of hyper extending it. Dess hastily pulled on his own djed to his upper back, hoping to control it enough to be useful.
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Oaths and Allegiances

Postby Rohka on November 24th, 2019, 9:55 am

Zordon grinned to himself as soon as his wrist was taken and turned. He drifted his foot out to the side, cutting into their centre space, a few strands of the Flux then shifting to push into the young Damazar’s pulling grasp, with equal force.

“No, you’re not anchored,” he said, his voice low and warm while he turned his darkening gaze to his opponent’s incoming arm. While it was good to see a spark of their old trainings flare up in his friend, a part of Zordon began to wonder what had happened to Dess’ attention to mass. Dess had left his already balanced state to bend with the instigated pressure. With the centre space opened and now claimed, the half-zith firmly rooted his own frame without resisting and swerved the hyperextension attempt through a simple method:

He let his weight settle on the grabbed wrist.

The slow, soft, soggy heaviness would drop upon Dessarian’s arm, the takedown movement pulling his own body and pinning Dess to the ground.

“What’s wrong, Dess,” he asked, his eyes now fixed on the Damazar’s face, using the hold to rest while his opponent tries to escape. “Just tell me what you’re fighting for, now, here.”

None of Zordon’s previous questions were answered. If he looked closely, Dess would be able to see a hint of anguish struggling behind the half-zith’s weathered features. Here they were, on the shore, back to the games of their childhood… why? Shouldn’t they just be adults and talk this through? During the few moments they held in the position that they were in, Don began to worry over whether he truly did lose the chance to change their violent past, after all these years. Whether he would need to stick to the plans—the original plans—to avenge the Drust family.

To fulfill the dreams of Maedoc Drust.

Truthfully, Zordon knew little about the man they called Alahea’s ‘War Dog’ with rumoured Suvan blood and a penchant for killing. The fact was that Maedoc lived a long life surrounded by a family that cared to support his magical pursuits. Such support carried through the generations, and the only reason Don knew any of this was because of his human mother… Corey Drust. She’d been his rock, his teacher, his everything. She’d been a devoted mother from the start, and one that cared deeply about their familial history. Corey embodied everything that it meant to be a Drust.

The half-zith grew up more Drust than Damazar, but his not-so-subtle status as an outcast finally pushed him enough to prove himself as a worthy mage.

What mattered more to Zordon now was finding out, once and for all, what side he was truly on. He needed the young Damazar’s help in reminding him what exactly they were really training for, long ago. The two of them grew up learning the ways of battle, combat, killing, strategy, movement, and even bodies themselves. But for what?

Don used to think it was to protect their knowledge of magics. When Dessarian’s father gave him the job on his ship long ago, training became the means to control the misuse of magic. Another time, after finding his Zith father in Sunberth, he thought his training led to the defence against traitors to their family. Recently, after beginning to bond with Kitty…

He was lost. Was he meant to bring Dess back to the families that blatantly betrayed each other? Was he supposed to convince Dess into helping him exact a long-dead revenge? Was he just there to manipulate him into confessing some form of remorse for all the lives that had been lost over the years?

What good would any of that do?

Why the petch would the Damazar care about any this?

The grip on Dessarian’s form tightened. “What would you do if I told you your father was alive,” said Don, his tone slick with an untapped river of rage. Kitty, in her wispy state of blood-red steam silently moved around their bodies, listening, in-tune with her master’s sick thoughts. Zordon wanted to know everything he could, everything that would set him free from the burden of the past.

He only hoped Dess would answer in good faith.

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Oaths and Allegiances

Postby Dessarian on November 26th, 2019, 2:13 pm

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Dess executed his technique, but with a grave error. He had been taught that it was not power of muscle that truly gave you advantage over your opponent, it was turning your foe's own momentum and weight against them. It was a game of balance, and he had compromised his. Without an equal to train with, Dess had let his edge dull.

Zordon, knowing well the move Dess was using, also knew the counter, and with a redirection of Dess's own momentum, performed an effective takedown. The Damazar hit the sand with a thud, the half-zith holding him there. Blue eyes iced as his old friend and nemesis loomed over him. Dess's trust of Zordon was always conditional, for it was not always clear what motivated the man, though the mage had served his father with loyalty, at least in the past.

Questions, always with the questions. Questions that bored into deep matters, tossed out only moments after an unexpected arrival, after so long. What was Zordon up to? Dess blew a stray blonde lock from his his face, his hands having instinctively gripped the man's wrists. "What the petch do you want? I am not going to answer your hypothetical questions, until I get answers of my own. Don't toy with me. You don't know what I have become." He warned. "If my father is alive, tell me, I'm not going to play games."

Ddjed snaked into his arms, anchored in his shoulders and seeping into his muscles. With synchronized effort, his arms yanked Zordon's arms one direction as Dess's hips shot out in the opposite in order to disrupt the man's balance and allow Dess to slip out from beneath the hold. If successful, Dess would quickly roll to his feet and assume the fighting stance they both knew so well.

All the while, Dess pondered the half-zith's words. What if his father was alive? Did the Damazar and K'etir still exist? What would that mean for him and the Meraki. He had bonded to Kelski, and would not leave her. And he knew she would not leave what they had built at the Empyreal Demesne and the Meraki? It could present a rift in loyalties. It would also complicate matters that Kelski and Ember were not the only K'etir with the Meraki. Kalistan still lay in a deep coma within the tower, his voice on all matters silent until he awakened. If he awakened. Dess would not reveal any of that to Zordon until his motives were clear.

Dess's hands went up. He didn't reached to brush a hand across the blue flame mark at the back of his neck. Evantia seemed unfair in the contest between the two men, at least until Zordon proved intent to truly harm Dess.

"I won't torment myself with a dilemma like that for your entertainment. Tell me the truth, and we will speak. For now. I fight for what I know I have, here and now."


In his mind, Dess reached out to the Architectrix docks. Reach, tell Kelski, or have the Gem tell her, an old friend as arrived, but she should not come down. No one should.

He is fighting you. Does not seem like a friend. The sentient dock replied.

This is just how we have always been. It will be alright. Dess assured the Architectrix creation.
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