Dec 13, 2011
Finals Time!
Hoo yeah, these last two weeks of the semester have been brutal. I do plan on posting more once winter break hits, but until then my life is consumed by final projects. HAVE AT THEE, HISTORY PAPER!
Dec 5, 2011
Shifting Sands ~ Chapter 3
The village, when they found it, was in shambles. The marks on the ground made it painfully obvious that the horsemen had ridden straight through the camp.
"Lucha, I'm... I'm sorry." The Aldryn watched with watering eyes as the Rahmi girl solemnly strode through the burning wreck that had been her village just two hours prior. Corpses of both Rahmi and the mysterious raiders were strewn among the rubble. Khalise took a moment to examine their foes. Their armor was strange, to say the least. All black, badly scuffed, and not an emblem or marking on any of them. There was no uniform look to them, either -- asymmetrical wedges of what could have been obsidian stuck out at odd angles, and chips of metal were wedged chaotically into the plating. It also looked as though none of them ever bothered to wash the blood from their armor or weapons. Their jet-black helmets completely covered their faces, with only a slit carved in them for the eyes.
Among the dead were the bodies of a few hulking wyverns. Khalise smiled faintly as he imagined big bad Fuers staring down an onrushing wyvern, his ungainly battle axe ready for a decapitating vertical blow.
'The poor fools didn't realize what they were getting into when they came here...'
He rolled one of the dead raiders onto its back and attempted to remove its helmet, but the carapace wouldn't budge. Puzzled, Khalise grabbed a spear from the ground and wedged it into the crease between the soldier's helmet and breastplate. With a great effort, he wrenched the handle of the spear downward and felt the helmet pop off. He turned, expecting to see the face of their enemies, and started. There was the helmet, completely empty and rolling on the dirt a few feet away... but there was no head sitting atop the metal plating. He dropped to his hands and knees and peered into the empty neck of the armor, then, taking a deep breath, he reached inside.
Nothing. He felt nothing at all. It was as if the suit of armor had animated itself. But... Khalise was sure he had seen eyes -- red, glaring eyes -- looking at him from beneath the helmet of the rider that had tried to spear Lucha during their escape. He couldn't make heads or tails of the situation, so he turned his back on the disembodied armor and began to scavenge for what supplies he could find among the wreckage, specifically some of the healing salve he knew the Rahmis always kept in good supply. He found some inside the smoldering ruins of a hut and gingerly applied it to the gash in the back of his knee. It stung, but Khalise knew from experience that the herbs would do wonders in helping the wound close.
As he exited the hut, a soft sobbing noise reached his ears, and he picked his way around the rubble and the bodies to where Lucha sat, tears streaming down her face. Khalise cringed as he realized the ravaged building she had collapsed in front of was her house. She looked up as Khalise approached and shook her head.
"Mother..."
Khalise bowed his head. Alma had been the kindest person Khalise had ever known; she didn't deserve such a fate.
"Come on Lucha, she deserves a proper burial at least."
Ten minutes later, the two stood at the head of a hastily-dug grave, a makeshift wooden cross sticking out of the desolate ground. Neither said anything; they simply stood there as the wind whipped sand against their faces and the smoke from the burning village stung their eyes. Khalise looked over at Lucha and noticed her tear-stained face begin to flush red. Her clenched fists were trembling, but she wasn't crying. With a sudden resolve, she lifted her head and stared into Khalise's silvery eyes.
"I hate them, Khalise. I don't even know who they are, but I hate them. They're murderers! How dare they come here?! My people were always peaceful!"
"I know," the Aldryn said, putting his hand on Lucha's shoulder. "I promise you, I won't let them get away with this."
"Father is still out there," she said suddenly, "I just know it."
Khalise nodded. "He's still out there, and he's still fighting." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, extending his consciousness again. He still could not sense the mysterious raiders, but there was a frenzy of activity to the east. "Lucha. I feel something... It's coming from the Khas-Kavan village. I sense fighting -- your father and the other survivors might be there."
She stared at him, a cold, hard stare. He knew what she was thinking, so in response he turned and strode into the remains of the Rahmi village. He emerged a moment later holding a worn shortsword, an oak bow, and a bundle of the rider's arrows. He thrust them all into Lucha's arms.
"I'm not like your father, Lucha; I'm not going to tell you not to fight. I know you can use those." He smirked as he saw a flash of confidence in the young woman's eyes. "But that doesn't give you permission to be reckless, understand? I want you to stay near me at all times." She nodded.
Now it was Lucha's turn to dash into the ruined village. She reappeared decked out in the traditional leather armor of her tribe. The suit was a little big on her, but she wore it well nonetheless. With her new sword holstered at her waist and the quiver of arrows on her back, she looked like a true Rahmi warrior.
Khalise smiled at the sight, then transformed and signaled Lucha to climb onto his back.
~Let's go. If Fuers is still alive and fighting alongside the Khas-Kavans, he's going to need our help -- soon.~
"Lucha, I'm... I'm sorry." The Aldryn watched with watering eyes as the Rahmi girl solemnly strode through the burning wreck that had been her village just two hours prior. Corpses of both Rahmi and the mysterious raiders were strewn among the rubble. Khalise took a moment to examine their foes. Their armor was strange, to say the least. All black, badly scuffed, and not an emblem or marking on any of them. There was no uniform look to them, either -- asymmetrical wedges of what could have been obsidian stuck out at odd angles, and chips of metal were wedged chaotically into the plating. It also looked as though none of them ever bothered to wash the blood from their armor or weapons. Their jet-black helmets completely covered their faces, with only a slit carved in them for the eyes.
Among the dead were the bodies of a few hulking wyverns. Khalise smiled faintly as he imagined big bad Fuers staring down an onrushing wyvern, his ungainly battle axe ready for a decapitating vertical blow.
'The poor fools didn't realize what they were getting into when they came here...'
He rolled one of the dead raiders onto its back and attempted to remove its helmet, but the carapace wouldn't budge. Puzzled, Khalise grabbed a spear from the ground and wedged it into the crease between the soldier's helmet and breastplate. With a great effort, he wrenched the handle of the spear downward and felt the helmet pop off. He turned, expecting to see the face of their enemies, and started. There was the helmet, completely empty and rolling on the dirt a few feet away... but there was no head sitting atop the metal plating. He dropped to his hands and knees and peered into the empty neck of the armor, then, taking a deep breath, he reached inside.
Nothing. He felt nothing at all. It was as if the suit of armor had animated itself. But... Khalise was sure he had seen eyes -- red, glaring eyes -- looking at him from beneath the helmet of the rider that had tried to spear Lucha during their escape. He couldn't make heads or tails of the situation, so he turned his back on the disembodied armor and began to scavenge for what supplies he could find among the wreckage, specifically some of the healing salve he knew the Rahmis always kept in good supply. He found some inside the smoldering ruins of a hut and gingerly applied it to the gash in the back of his knee. It stung, but Khalise knew from experience that the herbs would do wonders in helping the wound close.
As he exited the hut, a soft sobbing noise reached his ears, and he picked his way around the rubble and the bodies to where Lucha sat, tears streaming down her face. Khalise cringed as he realized the ravaged building she had collapsed in front of was her house. She looked up as Khalise approached and shook her head.
"Mother..."
Khalise bowed his head. Alma had been the kindest person Khalise had ever known; she didn't deserve such a fate.
"Come on Lucha, she deserves a proper burial at least."
*****
Ten minutes later, the two stood at the head of a hastily-dug grave, a makeshift wooden cross sticking out of the desolate ground. Neither said anything; they simply stood there as the wind whipped sand against their faces and the smoke from the burning village stung their eyes. Khalise looked over at Lucha and noticed her tear-stained face begin to flush red. Her clenched fists were trembling, but she wasn't crying. With a sudden resolve, she lifted her head and stared into Khalise's silvery eyes.
"I hate them, Khalise. I don't even know who they are, but I hate them. They're murderers! How dare they come here?! My people were always peaceful!"
"I know," the Aldryn said, putting his hand on Lucha's shoulder. "I promise you, I won't let them get away with this."
"Father is still out there," she said suddenly, "I just know it."
Khalise nodded. "He's still out there, and he's still fighting." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, extending his consciousness again. He still could not sense the mysterious raiders, but there was a frenzy of activity to the east. "Lucha. I feel something... It's coming from the Khas-Kavan village. I sense fighting -- your father and the other survivors might be there."
She stared at him, a cold, hard stare. He knew what she was thinking, so in response he turned and strode into the remains of the Rahmi village. He emerged a moment later holding a worn shortsword, an oak bow, and a bundle of the rider's arrows. He thrust them all into Lucha's arms.
"I'm not like your father, Lucha; I'm not going to tell you not to fight. I know you can use those." He smirked as he saw a flash of confidence in the young woman's eyes. "But that doesn't give you permission to be reckless, understand? I want you to stay near me at all times." She nodded.
Now it was Lucha's turn to dash into the ruined village. She reappeared decked out in the traditional leather armor of her tribe. The suit was a little big on her, but she wore it well nonetheless. With her new sword holstered at her waist and the quiver of arrows on her back, she looked like a true Rahmi warrior.
Khalise smiled at the sight, then transformed and signaled Lucha to climb onto his back.
~Let's go. If Fuers is still alive and fighting alongside the Khas-Kavans, he's going to need our help -- soon.~
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