Post by Kirthag on Feb 21, 2020 14:21:42 GMT -5
A girl has found it important to put quill to parchment and give permanence to what has been told by tongue. It is not such an easy task, as for this girl, she was taught young it is wrong for such of my condition to put words down - it only bespokes evil intent she is told. Alas, by all that is whole and right with the world, a girl must put said quill to yon parchment! If only to never repeat the past - but more to remember it as it is fresh to the mind.
And this, to whit, I must relay the regaining of my Voice.
For long I dwelt with the desert peoples, but could not utter a sound. It was the Man of Azure who taught me to dip the end of a feather into the wettened, cooled coals and to make markings upon a paper. It was he who kept my Voice - he told me would do no one any good should I make utterance. He called me pet, child, dark alabaster, and other such things - but never by my given name. I wondered at him, but did mind his command for my silence. His Woman of Crimson treated me fairly, but I wondered why her red gaze would bore into my very being. The other Colored Peoples ignored me for the most part, them gliding about upon their clouds and whirls whilst I scampered upon the ground. I was beneath them, figuratively and literally.
After time immeasurable, I sat near a grand fountain, resting and cooling my feet within the crystalline waters. Nearby were the Horse Lords and Ladies, grazing upon rich grasses as their Young leaped about in play. I felt a contentment and peace - the sky held no clouds, the sun lazed in warmth. I felt so at one with the world, that I parted my lips and let forth a tone that grew from my lungs with love.
The Lords and Ladies of Horse turned toward me, their ears alert and pointed in stark attention. Even their foals and fillies stopped their leaping about and ventured toward my presence. I let my Voice soar into the firmament and the Horse Peoples gathered around to listen. Soon, the Hawks and Vultures of the desert circled above, only to come down and rest on whatever they found so as to listen. The Scorpions and Snakes of the sands congregated at my feet. Even the Locusts and Bees hovered in the air about me.
I sang no words, just my Soul. It poured from my lips as water from a spring. I became lost within myself, and myself knew no Way of Being - just the joyous Song that came from within me for everything around me to enjoy.
There is no telling of the time I sung that day, or of whence the Woman of Crimson watched. But when I saw the look of horror upon her face, I knew then I must flee or join my father, Sa'id ibn Jahm be blessed in your rest.
Into the desert I flew, with the rage of the Colored People quick upon my heels. The Peoples of Horse had scattered as there came the tempest of the desert - a storm so fierce I knew it only to be from the Colored People. It came upon me suddenly, and with such a vengeance, I huddled and prayed my father, Sa'id ibn Jahm be blessed in your rest, would come for me.
And a figure did come. Large, strong, manly and muscular in all his form - the Man of Azure grabbed me up in his arms and carried me from the rage of his peoples far and farther yet through the sands. In what direction to and fro I know not, only that he carried me far and away. All the while, his voice in my head kept asking me why I sang.
"Why, my pet, did you raise your Voice? How could you disregard my only command to your pitiful self? Now, your joy will be gone from me - but I will save you for the last time my little dark alabaster. And you shall never see me or mine again."
In time, the Man of Azure set me upon the sands again. The fury of his peoples seeming to continue in another direction, I think he found it safe to set me down. He turned me away from him, and with a gentle nudge, set me in a direction opposite from the one he took.
If only I could remember his name - for he uttered it to my heart as I staggered out of the sandstorm. I think he loved me, in his own fashion, as anyone could love a lesser creature then they.
The experience has shaken me to my bones. I should never utter another sound.
~~~~~
Leaving the desert to journey with the caravans was a decision I shall never regret. It has allowed me to learn more of the world, especially through the eyes of my new guardian and companion, Kirthag.
And I shall relay a bit about this barbarian before I continue...
She is older than I, yet in some ways she is very much younger. I am not sure if it is her narrow vision of the world, or if she is just plainly ignorant of the ways by which others live. She is so very curious, and that is perhaps why I am intrigued by her. I have never witnessed one who would gleefully leap into the heart of danger as this woman! Blades and arrows do not worry her, they seem to bounce off of her skin. Her temper is quick and strong, she is as formidable with her tongue as she is with her blade. A curious blade it is, too - long, thin, and slightly curved. I've never seen one as such, but she wields it with a nimbleness only equaled by my playing of the lute.
I watched her, this fiery little bear of a female. And I came to respect her in my own way. Alas, we parted at the port of Constantinople - she boarding a vessel and I to another caravan. I had no thinking to see her again after that day, but I would remember her always.
I continued on with the caravans toward the west, away from the oceans of waters and sands, toward forests of trees so large and stout I thought them the grasses of giants! However, I was wrong in this assumption, for as the caravan thinned, so the trees grew larger. Eventually, I came to a trading post upon a cold river with the last of the great convoy.
Here, the men were large, wearing furs that smelled of sweat and blood. They spoke with a tongue all at once fierce, presenting a gruff serenade of speech that was at first intimidating. I came to understand some of their speech, and found it similar to the tongue of that fiery barbarian Kirthag - but altogether different still. They made oaths to Odin-All-Father and spoke about glorious death through battle.
Yes, they must be kith and kin - even by some remoteness - to that Kirthag.
I also met other women, who were very similar to their menfolk - but held themselves in great regard and privilege. I was amazed at first, but came to befriend one by name of Vespa. She called herself a "free'd woman" - having once been considered a slave amongst these people. Somehow she earned her freedom, and used her art of healing to keep these warring men healthy. I will note they curse her for her gift, but I think it is in a comfortable fashion for they do treat her with a certain amount of respect.
Vespa thought my silence was due to some sickness of the throat, and kept offering me salves, tonics, and potions to right the wrong she was convinced I was afflicted. She didn't know how to read what little writing I could produce, so we communicated with hand signs and gesticulations. The men would laugh at us, asking why we dance so splendidly all the time.
Vespa and I were in the woods, in the midst of one such dance, when a strange little man happened upon us. Vespa grabbed my arm and pulled me to her side as the man approached. She motioned that I stay close.
The man said something to my companion which I couldn't understand - yet another language I would wish to learn if given the chance. Vespa's reaction was sudden and unexpected - she flung me toward the man and ran as quick as lightning into the woods. As I staggered in my surprise, the man caught a handful of my hair and flung me with commanding strength to the ground. He uttered something which I couldn't understand, then commenced to drag me into the wood.
I struggled, I did. Kicking and flailing about - but this little man's strength was astounding and a girl couldn't break his hold on her tresses. Soon enough, I decided to ease the pain upon my crown and crawled behind the man. Deep into the forest we went. Where it was mid-morning, now seemed as twilight the wood was this dense. For the first time in my young years, I felt fear grip my spine.
How long this gnomish man dragged me as such through the brambles and foliage of the forest I cannot tell. The canopy of the trees blocked all light and view of the sky. I saw nor heard any bird or beast during the trek. I never once saw a critter creep upon the dirt. It was as if all that existed was the trees, this small man, and a girl being dragged to her doom.
Suddenly, the forest broke. Into a large glade of the softest grasses did this man drag me, then fling me (as if I were a sack of dirty laundry) out into the open. As I landed, I could see the pin-lights of the stars in the velvet black of the sky above. The blackened void of the new moon directly overhead was apparent. It was a dark night, silent as a grave - and a girl believed here would be her's.
"Why do you not sing anymore, little one?"
The voice was melodic, soft, and came from the edge of the wood. I sat up and stared toward the gnomish man, but he was gone. I whirled around, and soon spied a tall, slender figure standing with the grandest of stags. I stared blankly, realizing that despite the lack of moonglow, an aura of dim brilliance surrounded the pair.
"A cousin of this Stag says your voice is the epitome of splendor. You must share it with us."
I stared even more, as the figure stepped forward with what could only be the Lord of Stags. I could not tell if the speaker would be man or woman, but whichever did not matter. Where I thought I could sway people with my voice, I suddenly felt meek. I tried to respond, and...
"C-c-croak."
What is that! I sound like a frog in comparison to the richness of this being's voice! I felt ashamed, embarrassed, and suddenly ill in my heart.
A warm and gentle hand caressed my cheek and raised my chin so I could gaze into such eyes of Light and Life that all else disappeared.
"My child, do not tease us so with your insecurities. You can sing. I have always heard you sing. I will always hear you sing."
When next my lips parted, I sang with such emotion I thought my heart had burst.
The mysteries of that night are still working upon my mind.
"You will sway the gods, dearest Lark. Mind that you do so with a care," the Forest Spirit had told me.
When I found my way out of the woods, I set foot upon a soil I never knew. I felt a Spirit young and jovial, and knew I found a place I will forever hence call home. A creature bellowed from the wood, and I turned in time to see a large tree form through the mists, the magical forest fading back and away from me. Whatever magics the Forest Spirit worked upon that night, it has brought me to the base of a large tree of yew north of what I soon learned to be the Empath Abbey of Yew, city of Justice, within the world of Sosaria.
And this, to whit, I must relay the regaining of my Voice.
For long I dwelt with the desert peoples, but could not utter a sound. It was the Man of Azure who taught me to dip the end of a feather into the wettened, cooled coals and to make markings upon a paper. It was he who kept my Voice - he told me would do no one any good should I make utterance. He called me pet, child, dark alabaster, and other such things - but never by my given name. I wondered at him, but did mind his command for my silence. His Woman of Crimson treated me fairly, but I wondered why her red gaze would bore into my very being. The other Colored Peoples ignored me for the most part, them gliding about upon their clouds and whirls whilst I scampered upon the ground. I was beneath them, figuratively and literally.
After time immeasurable, I sat near a grand fountain, resting and cooling my feet within the crystalline waters. Nearby were the Horse Lords and Ladies, grazing upon rich grasses as their Young leaped about in play. I felt a contentment and peace - the sky held no clouds, the sun lazed in warmth. I felt so at one with the world, that I parted my lips and let forth a tone that grew from my lungs with love.
The Lords and Ladies of Horse turned toward me, their ears alert and pointed in stark attention. Even their foals and fillies stopped their leaping about and ventured toward my presence. I let my Voice soar into the firmament and the Horse Peoples gathered around to listen. Soon, the Hawks and Vultures of the desert circled above, only to come down and rest on whatever they found so as to listen. The Scorpions and Snakes of the sands congregated at my feet. Even the Locusts and Bees hovered in the air about me.
I sang no words, just my Soul. It poured from my lips as water from a spring. I became lost within myself, and myself knew no Way of Being - just the joyous Song that came from within me for everything around me to enjoy.
There is no telling of the time I sung that day, or of whence the Woman of Crimson watched. But when I saw the look of horror upon her face, I knew then I must flee or join my father, Sa'id ibn Jahm be blessed in your rest.
Into the desert I flew, with the rage of the Colored People quick upon my heels. The Peoples of Horse had scattered as there came the tempest of the desert - a storm so fierce I knew it only to be from the Colored People. It came upon me suddenly, and with such a vengeance, I huddled and prayed my father, Sa'id ibn Jahm be blessed in your rest, would come for me.
And a figure did come. Large, strong, manly and muscular in all his form - the Man of Azure grabbed me up in his arms and carried me from the rage of his peoples far and farther yet through the sands. In what direction to and fro I know not, only that he carried me far and away. All the while, his voice in my head kept asking me why I sang.
"Why, my pet, did you raise your Voice? How could you disregard my only command to your pitiful self? Now, your joy will be gone from me - but I will save you for the last time my little dark alabaster. And you shall never see me or mine again."
In time, the Man of Azure set me upon the sands again. The fury of his peoples seeming to continue in another direction, I think he found it safe to set me down. He turned me away from him, and with a gentle nudge, set me in a direction opposite from the one he took.
If only I could remember his name - for he uttered it to my heart as I staggered out of the sandstorm. I think he loved me, in his own fashion, as anyone could love a lesser creature then they.
The experience has shaken me to my bones. I should never utter another sound.
~~~~~
Leaving the desert to journey with the caravans was a decision I shall never regret. It has allowed me to learn more of the world, especially through the eyes of my new guardian and companion, Kirthag.
And I shall relay a bit about this barbarian before I continue...
She is older than I, yet in some ways she is very much younger. I am not sure if it is her narrow vision of the world, or if she is just plainly ignorant of the ways by which others live. She is so very curious, and that is perhaps why I am intrigued by her. I have never witnessed one who would gleefully leap into the heart of danger as this woman! Blades and arrows do not worry her, they seem to bounce off of her skin. Her temper is quick and strong, she is as formidable with her tongue as she is with her blade. A curious blade it is, too - long, thin, and slightly curved. I've never seen one as such, but she wields it with a nimbleness only equaled by my playing of the lute.
I watched her, this fiery little bear of a female. And I came to respect her in my own way. Alas, we parted at the port of Constantinople - she boarding a vessel and I to another caravan. I had no thinking to see her again after that day, but I would remember her always.
I continued on with the caravans toward the west, away from the oceans of waters and sands, toward forests of trees so large and stout I thought them the grasses of giants! However, I was wrong in this assumption, for as the caravan thinned, so the trees grew larger. Eventually, I came to a trading post upon a cold river with the last of the great convoy.
Here, the men were large, wearing furs that smelled of sweat and blood. They spoke with a tongue all at once fierce, presenting a gruff serenade of speech that was at first intimidating. I came to understand some of their speech, and found it similar to the tongue of that fiery barbarian Kirthag - but altogether different still. They made oaths to Odin-All-Father and spoke about glorious death through battle.
Yes, they must be kith and kin - even by some remoteness - to that Kirthag.
I also met other women, who were very similar to their menfolk - but held themselves in great regard and privilege. I was amazed at first, but came to befriend one by name of Vespa. She called herself a "free'd woman" - having once been considered a slave amongst these people. Somehow she earned her freedom, and used her art of healing to keep these warring men healthy. I will note they curse her for her gift, but I think it is in a comfortable fashion for they do treat her with a certain amount of respect.
Vespa thought my silence was due to some sickness of the throat, and kept offering me salves, tonics, and potions to right the wrong she was convinced I was afflicted. She didn't know how to read what little writing I could produce, so we communicated with hand signs and gesticulations. The men would laugh at us, asking why we dance so splendidly all the time.
Vespa and I were in the woods, in the midst of one such dance, when a strange little man happened upon us. Vespa grabbed my arm and pulled me to her side as the man approached. She motioned that I stay close.
The man said something to my companion which I couldn't understand - yet another language I would wish to learn if given the chance. Vespa's reaction was sudden and unexpected - she flung me toward the man and ran as quick as lightning into the woods. As I staggered in my surprise, the man caught a handful of my hair and flung me with commanding strength to the ground. He uttered something which I couldn't understand, then commenced to drag me into the wood.
I struggled, I did. Kicking and flailing about - but this little man's strength was astounding and a girl couldn't break his hold on her tresses. Soon enough, I decided to ease the pain upon my crown and crawled behind the man. Deep into the forest we went. Where it was mid-morning, now seemed as twilight the wood was this dense. For the first time in my young years, I felt fear grip my spine.
How long this gnomish man dragged me as such through the brambles and foliage of the forest I cannot tell. The canopy of the trees blocked all light and view of the sky. I saw nor heard any bird or beast during the trek. I never once saw a critter creep upon the dirt. It was as if all that existed was the trees, this small man, and a girl being dragged to her doom.
Suddenly, the forest broke. Into a large glade of the softest grasses did this man drag me, then fling me (as if I were a sack of dirty laundry) out into the open. As I landed, I could see the pin-lights of the stars in the velvet black of the sky above. The blackened void of the new moon directly overhead was apparent. It was a dark night, silent as a grave - and a girl believed here would be her's.
"Why do you not sing anymore, little one?"
The voice was melodic, soft, and came from the edge of the wood. I sat up and stared toward the gnomish man, but he was gone. I whirled around, and soon spied a tall, slender figure standing with the grandest of stags. I stared blankly, realizing that despite the lack of moonglow, an aura of dim brilliance surrounded the pair.
"A cousin of this Stag says your voice is the epitome of splendor. You must share it with us."
I stared even more, as the figure stepped forward with what could only be the Lord of Stags. I could not tell if the speaker would be man or woman, but whichever did not matter. Where I thought I could sway people with my voice, I suddenly felt meek. I tried to respond, and...
"C-c-croak."
What is that! I sound like a frog in comparison to the richness of this being's voice! I felt ashamed, embarrassed, and suddenly ill in my heart.
A warm and gentle hand caressed my cheek and raised my chin so I could gaze into such eyes of Light and Life that all else disappeared.
"My child, do not tease us so with your insecurities. You can sing. I have always heard you sing. I will always hear you sing."
When next my lips parted, I sang with such emotion I thought my heart had burst.
The mysteries of that night are still working upon my mind.
"You will sway the gods, dearest Lark. Mind that you do so with a care," the Forest Spirit had told me.
When I found my way out of the woods, I set foot upon a soil I never knew. I felt a Spirit young and jovial, and knew I found a place I will forever hence call home. A creature bellowed from the wood, and I turned in time to see a large tree form through the mists, the magical forest fading back and away from me. Whatever magics the Forest Spirit worked upon that night, it has brought me to the base of a large tree of yew north of what I soon learned to be the Empath Abbey of Yew, city of Justice, within the world of Sosaria.
