Kereth
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Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
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Post by Kereth on Jan 11, 2007 0:45:49 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty-One: The Mage Part Five: A Last Sacrifice
Salem kept his eyes peeled, scanning the world all around him. The colors continued, swirling in their strange and frenzied patterns. There was yet no sign of Huja. Wherever the Imam had disappeared to, he had not resurfaced. Salem knew he had to keep his guard up. Wherever Huja was, he was probably watching Salem right now, waiting for an opening, waiting for an opportunity to launch his next strike.
That strike could come from anywhere. While the air here was thick enough to stand upon, it was still only air, and the Imam could fly through it. That meant his approach wasn't restricted to the usual directions. It could come at Salem from above as well. It could even sneak up on him from below.
Salem's fist clenched around the shrunken head in his palm. He concentrated on it, letting his wounds close gradually. Wherever Huja came from, Salem must be sure he was ready.
That was when he saw it. The spark.
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Huja's eyes pierced through the chaos, his already keen gaze enhanced by the monocle he now wore, homing in on the arcanus's position. The Imam waited, and as he did so, three fingers from his right hand delicately wrapped around a shrunken head of his own, closing the wound Salem's magic missile had left him. The remaining finger and thumb wrapped around the hilt of a sturdy dagger, keeping it ready for when the time came.
His left hand bore no weapon at all now. All it held was a small, silver-white feather, half singed away into nothingness- a last, parting reminder of a yet-un-mourned-for loss.
He was out of sympathy for Salem by now. Open combat and fair fighting was over. This was killing time. This was the hour of shadow walking. This was the time for what Hands do best.
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No, no, no! Salem thought in desperation, Not now!
The spark sailed free into the open air, and Salem nearly panicked at the sight of it. He needed more time! To investigate this portal now would leave Huja an opening that the Imam was certain not to miss. To ignore it would be to let everything collapse, to allow the process to complete itself and leave the final portal, the final gateway unestablished. Salem knew he could always just dismiss this one, banking on the possibility that it was not the one he needed. He was so very certain it was that one, though. . . If it was, and he dismissed it, he would take days, even weeks to find it again. Even then, he'd still be dismissing spark after spark until he concluded his battle with the Imam. There was no way he could win under such circumstances.
The odds were good enough, but if he sealed this final portal, he'd probably die in the attempt. He would succeed, but would it be worth it?
The spark began to flicker, threatening to collapse and to shut down the whole process along with it. Salem gritted his teeth, and he began to gesture frantically.
Some things were worth dying for.
The spark expanded, stretching out like a disc and forming a soft, shimmering portal. Salem glanced about himself nervously. Still no sign of Huja. He plunged his face into the portal's opening.
Blackness again. He couldn't see a thing. He pulled right out again reflexively, thinking he had opened another doorway to the ether, but no sooner had he pulled back than he realized it: this place wasn't cold. Well, it had been a bit chilly, perhaps, but the flesh of his brow was quite clearly not frozen. This had to be it!
He scanned his environment again. Huja still hadn't shown himself. Perhaps Salem would get away with this after all?
No. That was too much to hope for.
He concentrated, preparing his eyes to penetrate the gloom, and he glanced through again. The spell to seal the portal was the most time consuming step. If he was going to take that risk, he had to be sure. . .
A strange place. There was some sort of city here. The framework of an unfinished building was all around him, and he could see a darkened street beyond it, peopled by all manner of bizarre creatures. At the center of the structure was a large, stone basin, sheltering an ominous black pool.
This was it! It had to be!
Salem pulled his head from the portal and began his spell immediately. If Huja was on his way, it was too late to do anything about it. He had to get this portal sealed. Whatever happened after that no longer mattered.
A few, quick gestures as he chanted at it. An image began to form across its surface, something strange and irregular. The portal began to stabilize.
Salem's chanting cut off abruptly.
Pain. Pain and cold enveloped his entire body. Slowly, Salem lowered his gaze.
A glint of silver protruded from the left side of his chest, and around it, blood oozed forth brilliantly, blossoming like a beautiful rose.
Another rose formed, then another, forming a strangely dazzling contrast to the arcanus's blue flesh. Salem's head fell back limply, landing upon a familiar shoulder. His eyes rolled sideways to gaze upon the face of his Lord Imam.
"Huja," he whispered, hurriedly, before his lungs too filled with blood for him to speak, struggling to finish a final thought before his life force oozed from his body. "I'm sorry it had to end this way," he said.
The Imam's eyes were cold as they met his, piercing into his soul like a whetted knife through eternity. "I'm sorry too," Huja answered him bitterly, "I'm sorry too. . ." --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": Rest for the wounded soul. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Feb 23, 2007 22:47:00 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty-One, Phase Two: Huja Part One: Aftermath
Huja let the body sink downward onto its knees, before it ultimately flopped backward under its own weight. The blood drifted strangely through the thick air, spreading out beneath them like a great, crimson chrysanthemum. The light danced along its edges, peaceful and elegant. It was a haunting sight, yet beautiful. Huja ignored it completely.
His fingers brushed lightly across the half-disintegrated feather, and his eyes stared at the expressionless blue features before him.
So it was over then, he thought. It was over, and he had time to think again. It was over, and he could rest and reason. It was over. He glanced at the feather. It was over. Everything was over.
Time passed. He wasn't sure how long. It could have been seconds or days. Not more than days. He just sat there for Cyllyl- only-knew-how-long. Sat there. Empty.
It was permissible, he knew, for him to do this now. He was not needed anywhere urgently, and he could not spare the time for mourning later. Life, if it still existed, would go on outside this strange world of shifting color, and it would be a little time still before anyone had need of the Imam.
He would have stayed there longer, but his meditation was interrupted, because finally, everything broke. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": Ducks by moonlight. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Feb 23, 2007 22:48:52 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty-One, Phase Two: Huja Part Two: Rift
"Subtle" was the last word anyone would use for the change that occurred, whether viewed from without the newly forming rift or from within. Huja, of course, was within, and he got the best view of anyone.
The first thing that happened was the crack. That is to say there was a loud cracking noise, not to imply that anything actually cracked apart, though the latter may have been true as well, but only on a level too subtle for Huja to be aware of.
Heh. There's that word. "Subtle." Oh well.
The crack was followed by a loud reverberating boom, and everything shook violently. Huja was thrown. . . perhaps head over heals, he wasn't really sure. The situation was too disorienting for him to tell exactly which way he was thrown, but head over heals seems to be the most accurate possibility. He maintained his grip on both the feather and dagger, if only by sheer force of will and years of experience in gripping such implements during similarly violent upheavals to his form. The monocle, to the contrary, was not so fortunate. It flipped away from Huja's face, vanishing almost immediately into the lights.
The world around seemed to be splitting apart, rushing away into three different directions at once. Daylight went one way, and night went another, with dusk taking another direction entirely, making the third plume in a three petaled rose of disorder.
Huja didn't look back. He didn't wait to see what would become of Salem's body or what the fate of the monocle might have been. He had no time for that. He just turned and flew away with all his might, feeling that he had to escape as the whole world came crashing down around him. Reason was useless in this, of course. There was just too much that he didn't understand, and without the monocle, he could see nothing of that would help him. For Huja, the time had come to rely on faith: faith in his abilities, faith in Salem's design, and faith that above all, Cyllyl would find a way to preserve him.
Magic tore at him as he twisted and spun through the torrent of light. The belt seemed to throb with the strain of resisting it. Did such an artifact have a breaking point? Huja didn't particularly care to find out. He beat his wings hard, tearing through the madness, seeking an escape.
An hour passed. Two hours. Hours beyond that still, until the Imam seemed to lose all track of time and focused only on the unending calamity of the void.
In time, even the Hand began to tire.
Fire seemed to sprout along the Imam's wings. The muscles burned with the exertion, but he flew on. He would reach his breaking point soon. Imam he may be, but still, he was only an anakim.
There was nothing he could do to delay the inevitable. There was nowhere to rest, no time for sleep or means to conserve his strength, no possible way that he could even innervate on the move like this. He just kept on trying, kept on flying, and prayed to Cyllyl for salvation.
Just as the world seemed to blur and break down before him, when he felt unconsciousness and collapse was inevitable, he saw something. A light before him, white and shivering. Why this light among all others should concern him, he did not know, but with the last of his strength, he pushed for it, throwing himself into its arms.
The light was bright as it engulfed him. It was warm, soothing, somehow familiar.
He could do nothing then but strain with his last breath, forcing himself to utter but a single word as the darkness swallowed him.
"Nihan. . . ?"
And then it was over. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": Reunion. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Feb 24, 2007 0:41:29 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty-One, Phase Two: Huja Part Three: Air
"All the World depends upon the Imam. If he were to disappear, even for a moment, the World would spiritually cease to exist. The Divine Light is transferred to the son the moment the father dies. A minor Imam must have a relative as regent, but the Imamic line can never become extinct."
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Huja's eyes opened, and he immediately squinted against the glare of the ever-present sun. What had happened to him?
He attempted to sit up. The events of the last few hours were a blur to him, but he had the impression that something terrible had happened, somewhere. . .
Pain shot through his body. The stubborn throb of what must have been all six hundred and seventy-eight muscles in his form aching in perfect unison tore across his system, paralyzing him, and he slumped backward again, coming to rest in the thick air.
Wherever he was, he immediately decided, this most certainly wasn't the paradise. He rested a few moments, considering his body's condition and assessing how it might most easily be improved. There was something clenched tightly in each of his hands and several hard somethings in pouches beneath his tunic. It was to one of these pouches he reached, gritting his teeth against the pain. The hand he chose to reach with held the lower half of a slightly burned feather. He pinched it between his fingers and withdrew a small, dark vial from the pouch. He swallowed the contents of the vial unceremoniously.
For a moment, all his pain was gone. He was in perfect health, lying in a hammock in the shade of a pair of beautiful trees. Gorgeous women surrounded him on all sides, looking after his every need. One woman in particular caught his attention, pushing to the forefront of the others. It was a young anakim woman with short, curly blond hair and a mischievous grin. . .
The vision ended.
Huja's eyes came open, and he pulled himself up into a sitting position. The pain was still there, but he found he had the motivation he needed to endure it. His other hand came around, carrying a thin, metal dagger. He ran the blade along the inside of his forearm, slicing shallowly into the flesh, as he offered a silent prayer to Cyllyl. Blood trickled down his arm, pulling in his hand, and he cupped the fingers to his face, drinking deeply. He felt the energy begin to return to his being.
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Huja flapped his wings steadily, climbing into the air as he examined his surroundings. Salem's rift stood before him, stretching out across the world like a great, rainbow-and-vermilion sun. In the distance, little islands of rock could be seen floating in the clear sky, orbiting around this newly altered core. Huja turned his wings toward the nearest of these islands, praying for the Will of Cyllyl to guide him homeward.
No sooner had he done so, than the silence was broken by the cry of a single bird.
Huja turned too look at it, and to his astonishment, he saw not one, but thousands upon thousands of birds, all pouring forth from the rift.
They drew closer, and he could see them in more detail. He beheld that they were not ordinary birds at all, as he originally thought, but rather, each was larger, differently built, like birds changed to hold the forms of men. Many bore wounds, and many more still bore weapons of war of every kind. The weapons were broken. . .
Huja turned away, looking back to the island that he had made his destination. Khalid would be waiting for him there, he knew.
He must tell the mullah that he had found the meaning of his dream after all. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": Paradise. ---------------------
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Kereth
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Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Apr 27, 2007 18:23:02 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty-One, Phase Two: Huja Part Four: Newcomers
". . . and then the cathedral split in half," Khalid explained, "right down the middle. One side fell to my left and the other to my right. The entire city toppled away around me, leaving me unharmed."
Huja nodded.
"Was there anything more I could have done to save it, Huja?" Khalid asked, "Did I make the right choices? Was I wrong to send the people away?"
Huja shook his head. "If you did make the wrong choice, Khalid," he said, "You must at least take comfort in knowing you could have acted no other way. Her Reason is absolute. I think she knew the mistakes we were all bound to make, long before we had made them. That was why she gave you that vision."
Khalid nodded, gazing out across the desert sands. People were scattered across the dunes in every direction. There must have been thousands, even tens of thousands gathered at this one spot, all rendered homeless by the events that had transpired, but every one of them grateful to be alive.
Khalid looked as though he might have said more, but his eyes stopped on a strange figure approaching from amidst the crowds. It was one of the bird people Huja had seen, one of the ones Khalid had seen in vision. This one was old and slightly stooped as he walked, but there was an air of authority about him that could not be denied.
Huja and Khalid both gave a slight bow in greeting, indicating their respect. The creature returned it.
"Greetings, friends," it said to them, using a voice that sounded distinctly male, though at first exposure to this alien being, neither Khalid nor Huja were ready to say that for certain, "My name is Aldwyn, a son of Gyo. I come to speak to you on behalf of my people. I am told you are the ones who choose in this place."
Huja nodded. "We are. What is it that your people desire, Aldwyn?" Khalid kept his silence patiently.
Aldwyn bowed again, gratefully. "My people," he said, "are known as the kanku. We hail from the planet Welstar, but we no longer wish to be dwellers in that place. We have been through a terrible civil war, and what are left of us wish to seek peace, rather than bloodshed. In order to accomplish this, we have chosen to abandon the lands and skies that we once fought over. For this purpose, we have come here. We wish to dwell among you, in this land of sky that is your home, but we wish to do so with your blessing. For this, I ask you, pray tell, if there is room for our people here."
A bit long winded, Huja thought, but his intents were pure. "As you can plainly see," Huja told the kanku, making a broad sweep with his arm toward the skies above, "We seem to have plenty of room. As for myself, I would be honored if your people would dwell here."
Aldwyn bobbed his head a few times in gratitude, seeming pleased. He reached a feathery hand around to his opposite wing. The feathers there looked worn and tired from age, and many of them had begun molting away already. He withdrew a single feather from the collection and presented it to Huja. It was a sign of trust, Huja realized, upon scanning the man's thoughts, and he accepted the token graciously.
It was only as he reached up to take it that he realized that he still gripped the half-gone, white feather tightly in this same hand. The kanku clucked at it happily.
"Ah, I see I am not the first to put his trust in you, sir Imam," he said.
Huja stared at the feather in his hand, seeming a bit distant. "No," he said, "I am quite certain you are not. . ." --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": The end of things. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Apr 27, 2007 18:24:32 GMT -5
Chapter Twenty-One, Phase Two: Huja Part Five: The Point of Everything
"It's gone," Naomi summarized, "Shara is nothing but a desert of the same name. The Elysium fields are reduced to clouds and steam. The air city has been demolished. All that remains of Ali's once-glorious metropolis is a tower on the southern end of the outer wall. . ."
"And what of the areas we were protecting?" Huja asked, strolling through the desert sands along the side of the hovering atomy, listening to the details of her report.
"More or less intact," Naomi said, "physically anyway. The spiritual wellbeing of the survivors is something to question though. When you didn't return right away, many thought you had perished, and given the prophecies. . . Well, they wondered why the world had not 'spiritually ceased to exist' as it was foretold. Many Hands forsook the Ways. Others, of course, while not daring to believe you were alive, were quite insistent that if this wasn't a 'spiritual cease to existence' then they didn't know what was. As news of your return spreads, we anticipate that many of the deserters may attempt to return. . ." She trailed off, looking to the Imam hopefully.
Huja gave her a vacant stare, feeling something strangely akin to amusement. Clearly, there was an order she had been itching to do since the moment the insurrections had started. "Yes, Naomi," he said, "You have my permission to have the nonbelievers terminated."
Naomi nodded, trying to look as though this hadn't been her hope all along. "Very well, my Lord Imam," she said, giving a slight bow as she flew, "I shall endeavor to do as you ask."
"So what remains?" Huja asked, changing the subject back to where it had begun.
Naomi consulted some notes. "Well, Elysium is intact, after a fashion," she said, "It appears their faith in Sikkar was not completely unrewarded. Scotland remains in decent standing. The same is true of Suthnas and the desert around Shara. Haroun remains, as does the Alchemist guild. The latter two and Suthnas have all survived on a single piece of land, owing to the quantity of magic available to protect the area. That probably makes the largest surviving region. A few random islands and boulders are still floating around as well, if only by chance, and surprisingly, Nineveh is still left with us. . ."
"Really?" Huja asked calmly, "How did they manage it?"
Naomi twinged in annoyance at the thought, muttering something that sounded like a very derogatory term for a female, coupled with the word "deity." Huja raised an eyebrow.
"Don't tell me Ishtar-" he began.
Naomi scoffed. "No, Ishtar wouldn't raise a finger to defend a mortal or even a thousand of them unless she had absolutely no reason to do so," she muttered, "She'd think interference would spoil the fun of watching in cases like this."
"So. . .?" Huja asked.
Naomi shrugged. "A new goddess appeared," she said. "We're not sure really where she came from or anything, but she appeared during the collapse and rescued Nineveh from the rift. They're setting up all sorts of things down there to commemorate the occasion. I think they're starting a new religion. . . of sorts."
"Of sorts?" Huja asked.
Naomi snorted. "She's a goddess of luck, mirth and knowledge," she said, "strong on the concepts of information, but combined with levity rather than Reason. She calls herself Gabrielle, and everything she stands for is blasphemous. Regardless, they're determined to pay her tribute, in repayment for her rescue. They've constructed some sort of transport to ferry newcomers to and from the rift, hoping to establish their city as a new center of trade and commerce on Raji. Already their streets are filling with strange beings and otherworldly monsters. They gather together, swapping stories. . . The official christening of the transportation system is still two days off, but it promises to be a very crowded party. The sort of heretical-"
"I should attend," Huja said.
Naomi looked shocked.
"There will be much information to be gleaned about the other worlds there," he explained, "If the guild is to survive, we must learn all we can about the five others, and we must learn it quickly. This will be the best opportunity I may have."
Naomi sighed. "You're right," she said, "of course. Shall I make preparations for your departure?"
"Please do," Huja said, "is there anything else?"
"No," Naomi said, "That will be all. I mean-" She stopped, and Huja thought he caught a trace of something fleeting in her mind. He looked at her curiously. She averted her eyes.
"Go on," he said.
"My Lord Imam," she began, hesitating far more than was natural for her, "I know you don't wish to talk about it, but-"
"You wish to know what happened in the core," Huja finished.
"People will ask," she said, "and I would like to know what you want me to tell them."
Huja shrugged. "Tell them all they need to know," he said, "Tell them that the fate of Raji depends upon the Imam."
He turned to walk away, then stopped. "No," he corrected himself, and then began reciting, speaking forth words that would become a key principle in Hand doctrine for many generations afterward, words which were already familiar to every Hand, but which he now altered, in order to give them greater meaning. . .
. . . words which he started with, "Not only Raji. . ." --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": No epilogue. ---------------------
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Kereth
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Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on Apr 27, 2007 18:25:27 GMT -5
Epilogue A: Nineveh Part One: Chatter at the Drunken Wench
A cloaked and hooded figure slipped through the door of the Drunken Wench Tavern and vanished amid the crowd inside. Nobody paid the figure any heed. The room was hot and crowded. Plentiful beer, loud music, and the occasional spontaneous drunken liaison fluttered through the hall. The celebrations had been going on for hours, and they showed no sign of stopping any time soon. Indeed, they would probably go on for days, at least. As it happens, residual traces of this party were bound to last for millenniums.
Not all patrons of the newly-founded Drunken Wench Tavern were there for the celebrations, though. In various corners, other figures could be seen, beings of vastly different races, sitting aloof from the commotion, talking in hushed voices about plans for this newly-discovered world.
It was to these conversations that the hooded figure was drawn, passing by just close enough to catch brief snatches of their conversations before moving on, screening them for any, slight detail that might be of use to him or his people in the days ahead.
". . . that they lay eggs," one was saying, "but I don't believe a word of it. Holy, self-righteous. . . they'll never fit in with the true Church. Surely the Twenty and Nine will know better. Children of Sikkar, my-"
"You're just jealous of their potential. . .
". . .Don't you see?" said another, "There is roomm thor us here. On esery world, mmen hase (pop)racticed these arts as we hase, (pop)ut here there is roomm! We could start our own guild, our own city! Mmen would thlock to us from esery corner oth the retroserse!"
"But the alchemists-"
"Are nothing like us, at heart. They wield mmagic as scientists, (pop)ut we do not. We are warriors."
"But still. . ."
". . . so hard," a third said, "it left my head spinning for hours! I don't know what they teach them in those monasteries, but wow! Hurt like the pit, and I'd swear she barely touched me. . ."
"Shinierthanyou'deverbelieve," a fourth continued, youshould totallycomewithusbacktoCryptit'sagreatplaceandthere'slotstodoyou barelymissthesunafterawhileanddidImentionthegemswemine?"
"Yeah! That was my favorite part! I really like shiny stuff, you know."
"Ohthat'sgood'cuzthey'rereallyneatandshinyandyoushouldtotally comewithusyoucanliveinourcavesandspendalldaydiggingupshiny rocksandgemsand. . ."
". . . kill kill," came the incessant muttering from another table, "kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill . . ."
". . . am not sayin' you 'ave to or anything," a brutish creature argued in the corner, "but think of advantages! Me 'ave lovely singin' voice. Me could add so much to your band!"
"Firstly, no. Secondly, I think you really misunderstand the premise of what my colleague and I were discussing here. . ."
And at last, the figure arrived at what he deemed to be a suitable table. It was occupied, of course. A group of drunken. . . somethings huddled all around it, but a single dirty look later, the kind you get from a man who knows he can kill you before the next time you blink, and the cowards beat a hasty retreat off to other parts of the tavern.
The Imam took a seat, contemplating his situation. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": 'Splode. ---------------------
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Kereth
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Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on May 27, 2007 14:15:56 GMT -5
Epilogue A: Nineveh Part Two: Brooding
The Imam's mind floated into a fog as the masses of foreign beasts slid by in front of him. The world was changing. Nothing was the same anymore. Nothing was turning out the way he expected. Tragedy struck and life went on. Homes would be rebuilt, nations reorganized, dreams revised and re-envisioned. People would heal, would live, and ultimately, would once again. . . find. . . hope. . .
Oh, Cyllyl, how he was going to miss her.
Some men might lose faith at such an occurrence, but that was not the case for the Imam. The idea that "Cyllyl was just" was simply not a part of his religion. That she should allow this to happen presented no contradiction. That it had happened under her very gaze suggested only that. . . well, that the greater good would be served by the events that had transpired, and the greater good would further be served by him forgetting about what had happened and moving on with his life. She was lost to him, yes, but he still had an heir to produce. More than a lone anakim man's heart stood to be shattered if he did not fulfill that duty.
Of course, such an idea did not appeal to him. It could not. The very consideration, in and of itself, was utterly appalling. Yet. . . surely that was something that had to be done, wasn't it?
Huja shook his head. Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't. He had time. The lifespan of an anakim was over seven hundred years. If not today, then maybe tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then perhaps someday he might be ready to go on with the course he knew must lie before him.
Still, it wasn't easy to imagine another anakim woman ever. . . ever. . . His fist clenched reflexively, knuckles turning white as the blood was forced away from the joints in his hand. So be it! he thought, There would BE no more anakim women! If it was Cyllyl's will that he produce an heir, then it would be by her power that he did so. This tavern alone showed that there were dozens of races out there, any one of which might make excellent Hands. If he was to have an heir, then one of them must be able to provide it!
As if on cue, a soft, almost-giggling voice interrupted the Imam's thoughts. "Hey there, handsome," it teased at him, "is this seat taken?"
--------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": The keys to the bus. ---------------------
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Kereth
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Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on May 27, 2007 14:17:58 GMT -5
Epilogue A: Nineveh Part Three: Decision
Huja nearly jumped. For most people, the status of having "nearly jumped," is not the most impressive status in the world, at least in terms of levels of surprise, but for one with Huja's composure, it was about as close as you can get to any outwardly discernible emotional response, so it was worth mentioning. Huja was, as it happened, very startled.
For a full half of a second, he could have sworn that voice was hers.
It wasn't. In fact, it wasn't anything close, any resemblance likely being generated by a healthy dose of wishful thinking on his own part. The being addressing him was, as far as Huja could tell, something much closer to a squirrel. She was also not alone.
Standing several paces behind her (from where she stood perched upon the edge of his table, speculatively eying what Huja hoped was the seat next to him) were several other beings, each of which Huja could only guess were female. Were it not for the sound of her voice, in fact, and the obvious presence of. . . well, certain other physical indicators, Huja would have had trouble telling that even the first being was supposed to be a woman.
The little. . . whatever she was. . . grinned, throwing a confident glance back to the other women, who in turn let out a series of muffled giggles, purrs and pops of amusement. None of them were anywhere close to sober, and the squirrel- really more like a raccoon, actually- was no exception.
The lewd and southwardly glances were plentiful, and Huja didn't have to be a mind reader to know what they were hoping to get from him, though why in Paradise they would think to be seeking such things from a member of a different species was beyond him.
The only uncertainty in his mind was whether he was interested in cooperating. Obviously, he had a great deal of difficulty, particularly in a state quite so sober as his, in finding any of these beings attractive. Well, maybe the cat girl was kinda' cute in a-
No. Just. . . just no.
But what had he just been thinking to himself? Had his determination to produce an heir by these other races all idle thoughts? Did he really have no intention in going through with such a plan?
Again, the idea of replacing her with another anakim was beyond consideration.
If this was his only alternative. . .
He reeled with disgust, calculating just how many vials of hash he would have to consume to get him through this sordid affair, and smiled at the closest creature charmingly, meeting her obscenely lecherous gaze without a hint of what emotions he was actually feeling.
"Why, good evening, dear lady," he said, leaning forward slowly, "ALL these seats are available," he forced a shameless grin as she and soon the others took up seats all far too close to him, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"
--------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": Narration. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on May 27, 2007 14:19:23 GMT -5
Epilogue B: Fates Part One: Minor Characters
The fates of Sadam and Naomi make perhaps the most interesting of those to be discussed, and thus, theirs which will be discussed third to last. Hey, I have to keep you in suspense, don't I?
Ol' Jaf became a Hand, little surprise to anyone, but only after a failed attempt at restoring his former glory in the merchant circles, even training with the guild on Wysoom for a time, before deciding that his faithless, money-squandering ways just weren't worth it anymore. He was apprenticed to another atomy, named Yaman. He graduated, then proceeded to raise an apprentice of his own, a young elven maiden, far more notable in the larger scheme of things, who even remains with the guild to this very day.
Nihan's parents and their expedition did turn up again eventually, emerging from the rift after being gone for thousands of years, yet not having experienced a passage of more than a few days' time. Maria Bath-Asher still resides as a high priestess in modern day Elysium, and the descendants of many of her party dwell there alongside her.
The followers of Gabrielle formed a guild of their own, which needs no introduction and thus, will get none here. Meanwhile, mages from all across the retroverse flocked to Raji, constructing a new city in the sky, which they dubbed Nimbus, after the cloud formation, and at the heart of which they placed their newly- established guildhall.
Nebu, "the atomy," and the remainder of the air city were never seen after the catastrophe, and only a handful of suula older in age than they still remain among those in the retroverse. --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": The suicides. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on May 27, 2007 14:21:26 GMT -5
Epilogue B: Fates Part Two: Major Characters
Okay, okay. Sadam and Naomi (Guildmaster Naomi, not to be confused with Nihan's sister, Naomi, whose fate will be referenced briefly in the final epilogue) were married only a few short years later, much to the shock and utter disbelief of all parties involved.
They had a wonderful honeymoon, which lasted for half a decade, then they both died promptly upon their return home, when their house mysteriously exploded.
The reasons behind the explosion were never determined with any certainty, but most of the investigators, upon being informed that the head alchemist lived there, insisted that had some pretty good theories, which theories were shared by many, and the investigation may not have gotten the attention that it really deserved.
Nusrat followed Naomi as the new guildmaster, which position she held until a ripe old age of 62 (ripe by arcanus standards). Her strong leadership was a key part in guiding the Hands through many of the trials that lay ahead of them in their history. Without her, it is uncertain if the guild would still be in existence today.
Huja and Khalid had a long and meaningful partnership. Khalid, following the events on Raji, actually became an official member of the guild, beginning his training in their mystical and combat disciplines. Huja stayed true to his calling as Imam and his determination that he had made. He never permitted himself to be with another woman of his own race, relying on the grace of Cyllyl to provide him with the heirs he required, and provide she did, blessing him with no less than seven half-anakim offspring, each of which bore a stronger resemblance to the non-anakim parent than to Huja personally.
In time, there would be other battles for the Hands to face, even wars to fight on several frontiers, as they sought to reestablish themselves in this, much larger universe, and in the end, Huja and Khalid did fade in the same instant, as Khalid vision had foretold, fighting true in the cause of Cyllyl, but that battle, that war, and that last heroic stand, are a part of another, altogether different story. . . --------------------- Next time, on "Not Only Raji. . .": Shara. ---------------------
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Kereth
Storymaster
Because 'stabbity, stabbity, stabbity' is a punchline.
Posts: 222
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Post by Kereth on May 27, 2007 15:17:42 GMT -5
Epilogue C: Elysium "Guest"
Ice cold winds whipped along the empty street.
The walkway was paved in clouds.
A long figure, wearing a heavy cloak, made its way down the chilly road. Its destination was obvious: a small house, looking so quaint and modest from without, directly ahead of the figure. The figure's gaze remained unwavering upon the door.
The appearance of humility in the dwelling was deceptive to some, but the figure would never be fooled by it. Sikkar's gaze did not permit one to be fooled by deceptions.
A shield, blazoned with a bright cross, but no charge, hung across the figure's back, sitting atop the cloak.
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Within the dwelling, Naomi Bath-Asher was waiting. She sat in her favorite chair by the fire. The heat of the flames licked against her face, and she stared blankly into the depths of the inferno. Her body felt frail and delicate in light of all she had witnessed. She wrapped it protectively in the folds of the heavy blanket, as if fearing she would lose it, without really fearing anything at all.
It had happened. It had all happened, just like Sikkar said it would. What did that mean for her? The answer was obvious. It meant everything else would happen the way he said it would, too.
She was unsurprised to hear the heavy knocking at her door. She barely acknowledged it, calling out a misty, "Come in," to the stranger who appeared there. She did not even turn to look upon him as he entered.
"Naomi Bath-Asher?" The figure inquired.
"I am her," she replied.
"Do you know who I am?" the figure asked. His voice was strong, commanding, yet gentle.
"I do," she answered, her own voice soft and distant, yet no less devoid of assurance and power, "You are one of His Twenty and Nine."
"Then you know why I have come. . ." --------------------- "Not Only Raji. . ." ---------------------
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