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Post by johtul on Jun 12, 2020 8:32:09 GMT 1
Johtul raced ahead, across valleys, wastes, and plains, eyes fixed on the Nuruk in front of him. The blue sky was completely free of any clouds and the sun shone overhead, but the heat did not slow him. His feet leaped over streams and rocks. The landscape blurred past at inhuman speeds. Yet despite his best efforts, Joh could not close the distance between himself and the runner he desperately sought to catch.
As Joh strived forward he studied the man. He had long dark hair tied in a loose ponytail that streamed behind him, dark skin, and an otherwise average height and build; but this was a man among men. Indeed he was a Nuruk among Nuruks! His movements reminded Johtul of Mutuwa or Razortooth: graceful, smooth, dangerous; but even the leaders of the NFS would pale next to this paragon of ruggedness and power.
Suddenly, Johtul became aware that he was part of a pack. Men and women, mostly Nuruks, raced with him, the great ponytailed man as their lead. The man looked back at his followers with a parent's pride, urging them to follow. He opened his mouth to speak. He called out to them! Johtul strained forward to hear the words. Forward! Faster!
Suddenly, and only for a moment, he was falling. Johtul hit the wooden floor, tearing at his sheets, and eyes searching for light. He was in the Agonia Trading Company's large guest quarters, among rows of cots and bunks. Faint light crept in underneath the door on the far end, but there was no sky overhead.
"Rholtar wait!" Johtul exclaimed, without really knowing why.
"No Rhoshtar here boy, quiet yerself!" A drunken voice, probably belonging to a Norsk, spat back at him.
"No, it's Rholtar… I was chasing him…" Joh trailed off, Who is Rholtar? That's the name of the man I followed?
The drunken Norsk grumbled something profane about what it was that he liked to chase and loudly rolled over in his cot.
I need to write to Oorali. Varro too. I saw them, they were also chasing that man. I saw others, Frinz, Atalaya, Osin? Did I see a Kiith? Good thing they keep plenty of pigeons here.
Johtul scribbled frantically onto various pages of his notebook, ripping each page out when he finished. They each said the same thing:
"Had dream. Rholtar is calling. Will you follow?"
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Post by oorali on Jun 13, 2020 0:50:18 GMT 1
For more than two moons now the resurrected Nuruk hadn’t been outside the walls of the Ancients academy. She had withdrawn from the external world into the world of thought and contemplation. When she wasn’t sweeping floors, washing walls, and polishing stone tiles she meditated. And when she wasn’t meditating she talked, at length, to the Ancients. The Nuruk had been asking questions about the past, about the memory loss, and about the recent dreams she’d been having. They artfully dodged her queries about past and memory, but the dreams they outright rejected with virulent enunciation. “Whenever he appears in my dreams we are always running. Nuruks, mostly, racing along with him. I recognized others running with us. The ones that have been resurrected here. Varro, Johtul, Frinz, Atalaya, Osin, and I all chase something. Always following him. Following Rholtar.” Orthos had appeared to ignore Oorali up to now busying himself with something and nothing. “Rholtar, he calls himself. The Nuruk god of fate and expedition. He is both the personification of these concepts as well as the deity. Something he said felt familiar. He said that, Nuruks believe that Rholtar is born with every individual, that he watches over Nuruk journeyers whether travelling alone or in a group. In one dream he offers me a cloak of invisibility as protection on my expedition.” Orthos spun around. “These are naught but fanciful imaginings of the sub-conscious mind. You’d do well to regard them as such.” The conjurer barked. “I must follow him.” Oorali said. “Follow him? You’ve been stuck inside these walls for too long young lady. You’re beginning to go m…” Oorali cut the Ancient off. “You’re right, I must leave at once. Find the others. Find out what these dreams mean.” Orthos glared at the Nuruk and with a commanding tone said, “It is agonizing to assume responsibility for your life but one must do so at some point. Escaping reality with these ludicrous imaginings can only lead to trouble.” Now it was Oorali who ignored the conjurer as she left the room, Orthos shouting after her. She had arrived with nothing and so had nothing to pack, but she straightened her room before leaving. The Nuruk paused in front of the big sacred wood doors that would lead her to the outside world. She took a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open. The Agonian sun warmed her face; the wind kissed her cheeks, and filled her nose with the scents of a still wild and untamed land. The Nuruk felt the urge to burst into a sprint. It was an innate urge, instinctual like muscle memory to run as far and as fast as her legs would carry her. But an interruption stopped her before she began. Elin and Welius had arrived to see her off. “Save your energy for all the demands that are made on it.” Said Welius. Oorali smiled at the alchemist and thanked him for bringing her body back to life and Elin too for her part.
"This came for you early this morning, Oorali." Welius passed her a note.
She read it out loud, "Had dream. Rholtar is calling. Will you follow?"
The Nuruk knew she was one the right path. A new path to a new life.
They said goodbye and as the Nuruk started to leave Elin said,
“Cling to your soul, Oorali. This world is given to take the rest. To the bone.” |
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Post by oorali on Sept 1, 2020 12:49:14 GMT 1
Across the baron and desolate valley Oorali stared toward the skyline of Exodus. Almost all courage had abandoned her when she left the ancients academy. Orthos’ words rang loud in her ear, “It is agonizing to assume responsibility for your life…” Too proud to turn back, or perhaps too ashamed, Oorali pressed forward hoping to reach the capitol before the sun reached its midday peak. Her leg muscles began to burn, a good burn, a familiar burn, a welcomed burn that she hadn’t felt for many moons and it spurred her on. When she reached the outskirts of Exodus she stopped. The metropolis, even though dwarfed by the mountain, was considerably larger than any town she’d ever seen. She knew from her discussions with Orthos that she had been to New Heaven, but her memory still hadn’t returned. After a deep breath and a short pause, Oorali entered the crowded urban streets of the Forsaken city.
“I’m looking for the Eden Stone?” Oorali asked around to no one in particular.
The range of perplexed faces differed in form and proportion but not in expression. No one had heard of the Eden Stone. Finally a woman selling bread from a basket suggested Oorali talk to Mr. Bricklebank.
“Mr. Bricklebank knows ev’ryting and ev’ryone. If he hasn’ heard of it, it doesn’ exist.” She said. “He has a stall at the market, you’ll know him when you see him.”
Through the haphazard streets of Exodus the Nuruk wandered trying to recall the directions until she stumbled upon the marketplace. Of all the stalls the largest, most extravagant belonged to a rotund Lightfoot who was as wide as he was tall, sporting a plait of hair that skimmed the ground, and a pair of monstrous mutton chops that reached his shoulders like a pair of bushy epaulets. Oorali approached tentatively and inquired,
“Mr. Bricklebank?”
“You can’t be from around here if you have to ask who Mr. Bricklebank is.” The Lightfoot replied.
“You the one Giantdad dragged in, eh?”
Oorali’s eyes found the floor and she didn’t reply.
“Yeah you’re the one. Don’t know many Giants that would pick up an enemies corpse and bring it back for resurrection. In fact, don’t know any, save for GD, good lad that one. So, what can I do you for?”
“Uhm… I’m looking for the Eden Stone.”
“The Eden Stone, hey? The old Eden Stone. Yeah I know The Eden Stone. What’s it worth to you?” The Lightfoot
“I have to find it. I’ve been having these dreams and…” Mr. Bricklebank interrupted.
“No, no… I mean how much? You know, what have you got to offer me in exchange. Nothing for free in this world, darlin. Gold, jewels, some exotic trinket, or anything worth some value, information, perhaps you know why the Ancients brought us here after you spent all that time cooped up in their lair?”
“I have nothing, I lost all my possessions when I…”
“Died”, said the Lightfoot, “But you must know something?”
Oorali searched her mind for something that might appeal to the merchant.
“Please, Mr. Bricklebank, I don’t have anything right now, but I can repay you. I’ve asked around and no one seems to know anything about it. You’re the only one who…” Oorali begged.
“If you’ve naught to offer I’ve naught to tell ya.” The merchant interrupted.
And with that the half man began to tend to other customers ignoring Oorali. Standing still the Nuruk scanned the marketplace. Fruit stalls, meat stalls, a bakers stall, stalls selling trinkets, stalls selling weapons and armour, clothes stalls and a stall selling precious gems all lined the central square of Exodus in two rows. People bustled about unhurriedly between the rows while Oorali was fixated on the floor. After some time she sighed and began to walk away.
“Hold on a minute.” Said Mr. Bricklebank who was just finishing with a customer.
“I have a proposition for you. Do you like riddles?”
Oorali stared blankly at the Lightfoot.
“Well either you do or don’t, makes no matter to me. I have a riddle and if you can answer it I’ll tell you where the Eden Stone is.”
“O.K.” the Nuruk agreed.
“Here we go… are ya listening, girlie?” he said.
Oorali nodded.
“You have me today,
Tomorrow you'll have more;
As your time passes,
I'm not easy to store;
I don't take up space,
But I'm only in one place;
I am what you saw,
But not what you see.
What am I?”
Oorali searched the floor with her eyes while reciting the rhyme aloud.
“I haven’t got all day, Nuruk. Go on, do you give up?
“Ha! It’s memories!” she answered.
“What!? How did you guess that! You must have heard it before. No way you worked that out. You cheated.” Exclaimed the merchant.
“I did not!” Oorali shouted.
“Did so, and I don’t deal with cheaters. Go on, off with ya.” Said Mr. Bricklebank.
“No I didn’t cheat, I swear. I swear to Rholtar.” Oorali cried. “Please, you have to believe me. O.K. Give me another riddle then.”
The Lightfoot looked her up and down, and then looked down the row of stalls.
“Why? So you can cheat again?” the Lightfoot huffed.
“Well, in fairness you didn’t ask if I knew the riddle or not before you asked it. You just wanted the answer and whether I’d heard it before or not I gave you the answer. It was you who failed to stipulate the conditons.” Said Oorali.
“Ooh think we’re clever do we. O.K. you can have another shot, if you think you’re that good.” Replied the merchant.
What is harder to catch the faster you run?”
Oorali again stared at the floor and this time paced a few steps back and forth reciting the riddle.
“Uhhh… I don’t know… a tail?”
Mr. Bricklebank burst into roaring laugher.
“A tail? A tail? Are you hiding something back there we don’t know about, girlie? Oh by all that is holy. I haven’t laughed like that in some time. But no, the answer is not a tail but your breath.”
Mr. Bricklebank continued his raucous while Oorali sighed, chastised herself and kicked the dirt with her feet.
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Post by oorali on Jan 10, 2021 0:17:25 GMT 1
The half-mans laughter grew in volume and after a moment of silent, furious thought Oorali picked up a cabbage from the adjacent stall and was about to hurl it in the direction of the gasping half man when someone caught her arm. Upon seeing this Mr. Bricklebank burst into more hysterics. Oorali flashed him a pale smile before looking at who was still holding her throwing arm. She stood frozen staring at the person until she finally muttered.
“Bones?!?”
He smiled back at her.
“I Sugar now, Bones was old me.”
The Nuruk jumped and threw her arms around Sugar’s neck in an awkward clasp. Her feet dangled almost two feet from the floor while she hugged the Giant. He lowered her back to the ground and she spoke.
“I thought you were gone, I came looking for you… What happened? Why didn’t you come back?”
The Giant, who hadn’t stopped grinning, put his hand on his chest and said.
“I come live with my kind now. Dis home for us, Oorali.”
The Nuruk smiled.
“It’s so good to see a familiar face.” She blurted.
They became reacquainted and Oorali told him about the dreams she’d been having and that she needed to find the Eden Stone. Sugar told her that he heard some guys talking about it in the tavern.
“Two Nuruk, they say about Eden Stone. You go there.”
Oorali thanked him and arranged to meet him again after she had inquired at the tavern. As she left Sugar called after her.
“Oorali. Must to ask for good book to read.”
She looked back at him baffled.
“Trust Sugar”, he said.
The Cloak and Stagger was not much of a building to behold. Architectural innovation had not been a consideration in the construction of Exodus’ largest alehouse. It lacked a decorative ornate exterior; the designer, if there was one, had paid no mind to symmetry, and appeared to have no knowledge of rudimentary building standards. The lopsided thatched roof that enclosed the crooked walls did not possess any aesthetic quality, but the building did serve a purpose. It was functional; the building was functional from its tall doors to allow Giants to pass through unbowed to its meditation room for Kiith to smoke their herb. There was a wrestling room for Norsks, or anyone that mustered enough liquid courage, to enjoy a little uninterrupted bonding as they call it. It gave Exodonians somewhere warm and dry to rest their behinds and, through liquid indulgence, forget the daily stresses that come with surviving in Agonia. Oorali entered the alehouse a little after noon and there wasn’t an empty seat in the joint. She weaved and slinked her way to the bar managing to get there only wearing one drink and narrowly dodging the Nuruk knife throwing contest. Above the bar a sign read, “You are in a state of grace.” She paused looking at the bartender, looking at the crowd, and looking around the rest of the room. It was the kind of establishment that used books to sure up wobbly tables, or to encourage a fire in winter. Oorali felt all kinds of silly asking for a good book to read, but to her surprise the bartender answered, nonchalantly, and pointed,
“On the wall. The big red one.”
As she crossed the room a solid thud of something thrown against a wall came from down the corridor. It was loud enough to be heard over the raucous of a full house and it shook the building. Oorali’s reflex was to duck while the rest of the patrons continued unperturbed. She stood slowly, looked left, then right, and continued toward the bookshelf. Before she reached the red book she noticed the first door in the corridor. A pair of frost ox horns hung at the top of the door and a message smeared in red stated, “If you freeze in here, don’t venture where the frost bites.” Another wall trembling thud spurred her on. She reached up to pull the red book from the shelf and paused to read the title on the spine. “The Fall From Grace”, as she pulled the book a trap door opened beneath her and she fell. The Nuruk had screamed the whole way down, the whole of three meters onto a mammoth fur covered cushion. There were no windows here and her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark. She heard the trap door shut above her and a voice called out,
“Welcome to the fall from grace, what can I get you?”
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