wisp
Newbie
Kaja walked to the cabin she shared with others, had shared with Crow.
Be strong.
The steps to the porch creaked as she ascended.
Be strong.
Opening the door, she peaked in. It appeared as if her companions were not around at the moment. With a small sigh, she slipped through the door.
Be strong.
The door closed behind her, Kaja leaned against it. And then, everything crumbled. The stiff demeanor she had adopted since the pyre. The straight-to-business attitude. The forced strength. And her knees. She slid down the door, a wail loosing from her throat. Tears gushed forth as the falls from her home and she sank down against the door, huddled and weeping. She stifled her wracking sobs in the fur vest of her mentor, smelling the ash and herb and earth smell that she had begun to associate with him.
A part of her longed for the false future she had seen with Crow standing alongside her father and brother, his gaze approving and so very alive.
She had never lost anyone close to her. It simply had not happened back home and Crow was the first and closest friend she had in the outside world. Fear struck her, anxiety. She suddenly had so many more responsibilities. She was filling his gap in the Parson's Breach Earth Circle. She found herself a sudden and confused member of other groups. Friends of Crow rallied around her as his apprentice and she didn't know what they saw when they looked at her. And she knew her jeweled face and her flowers would never have the same tactical edge, the same ability to lead as her mentor had. She could wear all the black ash-paint she wanted and she would never be him.
Finally reaching a point where her throat was cramped and her eyes were bleary and crying just took far too much energy, the Tari-Nor rose. She sat on the edge of her bed and she began to write.
"Father. Tyl.
A hard thing has happened. I hope that you both are well and receive this well. I have lost a friend and my mentor. We have all lost someone great. I need a few favours. Father, I intend to create a dance inspired by Crow and would like some suggestions on light patterns for it, please.
Tyl, beloved brother, could you craft me some dark jewels for my mourning?
And finally, will you both please spread this story among our people?
The Death of Rothmund Krakeblud
A crow flies and watches. They are quiet until they have something to loudly proclaim. They are sentries. They are guides. They are stern elegance.
Let me tell you about a man named Rothmund Krakeblud. A man named Crow.
Here was a man who smiled little, but when he did it was the sun shining through him. A voice like a crow's call, it commanded attention. Here was a man who stood as an oak, strong, watchful. He was a shelter to those who needed it. A branch held to keep all manner of evils at bay.
He was a guide and an omen both. His fire burned hot and it warmed those around him.
The day the crow died was a dark day indeed. Beasts rose up and clouded the minds of Parson's Breach. Freedom was stolen and friend turned against friend. The Crow defended but did not strike. Evil stripped him of agency. It struck him down with conniving blows. Rothmund Krakeblud fell but was not defeated.
There is beauty in strength and strength ran deep in Crow. Stand watchful. Wait to speak but speak loudly. Be strong, my loves. Be strong."
With that done, Kaja sealed the letter and began packing. She had a portal to take.
Be strong.
The steps to the porch creaked as she ascended.
Be strong.
Opening the door, she peaked in. It appeared as if her companions were not around at the moment. With a small sigh, she slipped through the door.
Be strong.
The door closed behind her, Kaja leaned against it. And then, everything crumbled. The stiff demeanor she had adopted since the pyre. The straight-to-business attitude. The forced strength. And her knees. She slid down the door, a wail loosing from her throat. Tears gushed forth as the falls from her home and she sank down against the door, huddled and weeping. She stifled her wracking sobs in the fur vest of her mentor, smelling the ash and herb and earth smell that she had begun to associate with him.
A part of her longed for the false future she had seen with Crow standing alongside her father and brother, his gaze approving and so very alive.
She had never lost anyone close to her. It simply had not happened back home and Crow was the first and closest friend she had in the outside world. Fear struck her, anxiety. She suddenly had so many more responsibilities. She was filling his gap in the Parson's Breach Earth Circle. She found herself a sudden and confused member of other groups. Friends of Crow rallied around her as his apprentice and she didn't know what they saw when they looked at her. And she knew her jeweled face and her flowers would never have the same tactical edge, the same ability to lead as her mentor had. She could wear all the black ash-paint she wanted and she would never be him.
Finally reaching a point where her throat was cramped and her eyes were bleary and crying just took far too much energy, the Tari-Nor rose. She sat on the edge of her bed and she began to write.
"Father. Tyl.
A hard thing has happened. I hope that you both are well and receive this well. I have lost a friend and my mentor. We have all lost someone great. I need a few favours. Father, I intend to create a dance inspired by Crow and would like some suggestions on light patterns for it, please.
Tyl, beloved brother, could you craft me some dark jewels for my mourning?
And finally, will you both please spread this story among our people?
The Death of Rothmund Krakeblud
A crow flies and watches. They are quiet until they have something to loudly proclaim. They are sentries. They are guides. They are stern elegance.
Let me tell you about a man named Rothmund Krakeblud. A man named Crow.
Here was a man who smiled little, but when he did it was the sun shining through him. A voice like a crow's call, it commanded attention. Here was a man who stood as an oak, strong, watchful. He was a shelter to those who needed it. A branch held to keep all manner of evils at bay.
He was a guide and an omen both. His fire burned hot and it warmed those around him.
The day the crow died was a dark day indeed. Beasts rose up and clouded the minds of Parson's Breach. Freedom was stolen and friend turned against friend. The Crow defended but did not strike. Evil stripped him of agency. It struck him down with conniving blows. Rothmund Krakeblud fell but was not defeated.
There is beauty in strength and strength ran deep in Crow. Stand watchful. Wait to speak but speak loudly. Be strong, my loves. Be strong."
With that done, Kaja sealed the letter and began packing. She had a portal to take.