• Memory • The Nomadic Tribe

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Finn
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Joined: Mon Sep 19, 2016 10:06 pm
Race: Human
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The Nomadic Tribe

Ymiden 4, Arc 690

“Dad?” A hesitant tug of a child on his father’s shirt, as the boy stared off into the distance.
“Yes?” There came a melodic rumble from deep within the chest of the rock of a man. He looked down at his son, by arcs a much younger version of himself. They both had warm grey eyes with clever spark in them, tousled hair with no care and skin sun kissed from all the work outside. The boy was sporting a shirt a bit too large for his frame, sleeves rolled up like his father but they'd still keep coming down darn things. His mother said he would grow into it and the boy wouldn't care anyway if it helped him be like his dad.
“Look there, dad.” The boy pointed ahead across the plains. Their little settlement was situated right on the edge of the desert and the greenery that extended all the way to Yaralon. Theirs was a small humble abode barely two stories high, made of wood, stone and a mixture of mud and clay. That was the main building which housed only the family. Closer the to field, they had another building which housed some of the animals and the larger tools for farming. But if one climbed the outer stairs on the side of the main building and stepped onto the landing that led into the storage, they would see far and wide where sun scorched the land and turned it into golden ash.
That’s where the two were now. His father was taking out some tools they would need in the upcoming trials. Laying those down, he turned to see what his son’s imaginative eyes saw this time. Would it be another great beast spurred up from slumber by the wind as the sands took on the forms? Or maybe a fat cloud rolling across the sky like a floating city?
“It’s a…” The boy struggled for words.
“A caravan, Finn. A nomadic tribe.” His father responded, his features setting in his face. Hints of tension sneaked into those few words. The burly man straightened and narrowed his eyes. It was never clear with these people. They were either intimidators, demanding supplies; or they would only stop here for a few trials, set up a camp and cause no trouble. Life on the edge, with only a few farms spread far and wide, left the settlements vulnerable. And Yaralon's or Nashaki's guards were not very bothered with making rounds around this area.
Rolling his shoulders, Finn’s father looked at his son with a smile that wiped away those worries, or at least hid them well. Be what may. Finn's father managed the situations so far with a good deal of calm negotiations. May the Immortals be with him on this trial as well to keep his family safe from harm.
“Well, let’s take these things down first, shall we?” It would still take a while before the procession would arrive at their doorstep and down on the ground was where Finn’s father had the blade should it be needed.
With the last look over his shoulder, Finn took in the distant line of travellers. In his short life, he has seen a few. Sometimes from inside the house when his father would instruct him to stay with his mother. Other times, he'd mix and mingle with the strange people and their children.
Having picked up on his father's mood however, the boy frowned in the direction of the strangers like his father would. It was a comical display of dominance the boy had yet to earn. Satisfied with the warning that no one was there to witness, he then picked up a tool tad too heavy for himself to carry down.
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word count: 644
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They do not yet understand the purpose of forgiveness. It is not to spare wrongdoers a punishment they deserve. It is to spare the injured ones the ongoing pain they do not.

~ Ymiden
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Zarzhi
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Joined: Mon Nov 19, 2018 11:51 am
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Re: The Nomadic Tribe

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She'd only half listened as a child when her mother had warned her of the pains and aches. Somehow, though she'd known deep down inside that life had fated her to this path, Zarzhi had paid little attention to her mother's words. Her mind had been occupied with envy, staring at her brothers as their father took them to hunt and catch falcons.

The details of balancing oneself when with child in a moving, trembling cart had been lost to her and though she suffered through it now, there was no sense of regret in having missed her mother's lessons. She shifted as the sands did beneath the wheels and she reached out to grasp her mother-in-law's forearm when the woman offered it.

"Be careful." She warned Zarzhi, eyes snapping to her scars, then to her stomach.

"Yes, khalti." She replied by rote.

There was no arguing against the woman. Their families no longer warred and she may have been married to her son, but Zarzhi was still the enemy. Her mother-in-law had been crueler, once. But now Zarzhi was with water and the rumors of being too old and barren had quieted in her wake. Now the woman's anger had cooled to resentment, a type of resignation to fate that ironically enough, Zarzhi shared.

They were not happy. But happiness was dozens of dunes and arcs ago, left with a girl whose father called her 'jewel' and promised to take her hunting when the time came. She looked at her khalti, met the oasis-green fronds of her wrinkled, sunken eyes and knew it was the same for her. Her son had deserved someone better, she too wanted more. How sad that life had so much cruelty to spare.

The caravan suddenly came to a halt and a dark, weathered hand shot to her chin, forcing her head up to look at the woolen bonnet.

"Be still." Her khalti said, fussing with her blanket. "You will be sick."

Zarzhi did as the woman bade. Despite their differences, her mother-in-law knew better how to care for a pregnant woman than she and this child was a lifeline. Her mind drifted as the dark, sand-gnarled woman adjusted her tunic and pressed her fingers to certain points against Zarzhi's swelling belly. She muttered something and knocked her knuckles against the seats but Zarzhi paid it no heed, trying to hear what was happening beyond their little wooden coffin.

Her husband was speaking. She couldn't hear him well but recognized the rhythm of friendship in his speech. Unconsciously, she relaxed and tilted her head when her khalti tutted at her.

The entrance of their caravan stretched open as her boy-husband stuck his whiskered face in- "Zarzhi, Ummi. A jug."

Friends then, if they were to exchange water. She handed the proffered jug to him with a soft murmur. His eyes dropped to the swell of her stomach before flicking to meet with his mother's gaze. Seemingly satisfied at whatever expression she made, he turned away from Zarzhi, bidding them to stay for a moment longer.

"I wonder who they are." Zarzhi shifted, trying to see through the small gaps in the wool, squinting as she tried to adjust to the harsh glow of the bright light.

"Does it matter?" Her khalti asked, but she too was mimicking Zarzhi's movements, trying to peek outside, restless from having been cooped up for so many trials. "Traders, perhaps." Her hand settled on Zarzhi's shoulder, fingers digging in like nails and Zarzhi stilled in obeisance.


"It would be good to go outside."
Zarzhi dared and her mother-in-law agreed with a soft nod.

They waited in silence long enough for the sands underneath them to shift again, the winds pressing against the wool covers like an eager friend. Zarzhi had missed it, remembered the feel of it through her hair as she rode behind her brother, yelling when they landed a shot- their triumph coursing through her like it was her ow-

"Ummi!" Her husband called for his mother, cracking-voice breaking through Zarzhi's musings and she followed her khalti outside when the woman bade her, holding tightly as she stepped down each ladder so gingerly she might as well have been carrying glass jars of water.

She was met with the sight of a man a head taller than her husband and they were both at ease. That was good.

"Come," Her husband ordered and Zarzhi hobbled to him, legs numb from the journey. "This is my wife, Zarzhi of Baenlyl." She wanted to correct him. She was not Baenlyl, she was- "And this is my mother. We thank you for your hospitality."

Zarzhi murmured an agreement, smiling softly as she tilted her head, scars away, in greeting- braided hair falling over her shoulder like a leash. "Warm sands and still waters." She offered politely, as she'd been taught. Her mother-in-law parroted her, coming to stand beside her son as he continued to speak to the man.

"Good tidings have come!" Her husband said, bright eyes shining at the prospect of it, smooth cheeks coming together in a joyous smile. "Our brother here offers the sands nearby, for a few night's time."

Zarzhi sighed in relief. "Too long have we traveled without camp." She said during the lull, turning to their new brother. "Truly you come at our time of need." How true that statement was. But it was her job to offer their hospitality, though she did it with hidden relish at the prospect of the night air rather than with the solemn duty of a wife and mother-to-be. That little rebellion thrilled her. "We welcome you to our fire and song-"


"-and our water and sleep." Her khalti finished amiably, her mood lifted. "I shall tell the others, come, daughter. We'll prepare the fire while they speak."

She offered her arm again, the tilt of it much friendlier than before, the prospect of laying ground and camp stilling the turbulent waters between them for a time. Zarzhi wrapped her arm under the crook of her mother-in-law's elbow, always surprised at the stone-like strength of it and offered a genuine smile of thanks.

"Yes, khalti." Zarzhi said, looking down and left the boy and man to their words.

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word count: 1075
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Finn
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Posts: 356
Joined: Mon Sep 19, 2016 10:06 pm
Race: Human
Profession: Priest and doctor assistant
Renown: 130
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Wealth Tier: Tier 6

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Re: The Nomadic Tribe

Tools rested on the ground by the house wall as the caravan arrived. No one aside from Berin was outside, clearly waiting for them to make their stop. Finn and his mother were told to stay inside the house until it was determined safe for them to come out. From the first moment, Berin saw that this procession may not be here with ill intent. The man-boy too smooth in the face and thin in the body when compared to other likes that walked this ground. Yet, he would not take the risk in case this was a clever ruse.
Inside their humble home, Riona was sorting her sewing kit, trying to appear uninterested in the matters outside. But oh how she disliked the first moment when new traveller arrived at their settlement. The uncertainty of whether she should hide herself and her son or not was nibbling on her mind like a fly on the compost outside. So she put on a disengaged face...which wasn’t much different from her usual expression. She remained quiet, inattentive to her son aside from that singular smile when Berin deposited him indoors.
Finn on the other hand, couldn’t rest so easy. Peeking outside through a small hole in the wall, left there from a severe rain many trials back, he saw the strangers arrive. How weird and wonderful they were! The way they walked, held themselves. It was all one grand performance that the boy was observing wide-eyed. He could see his father cracking a smile, relaxing and that sure must have been a good sign!
So he crept to the door and cracked it open a little. From there he could still watch everyone’s profile while safely hidden by the dim light inside.
“Finn.” His mother spoke his name softly with a hint of warning. Looking back, she lacked the same in her eyes. Those were, as always, expressionless when looking at him.
“I know, mum. It’s just a peek. Nothing more. I promise.” He told her with that boyish smile of excitement. He didn’t wait to hear her response. She rarely followed up on her words and this was not the time to feel saddened by the lack of connection. This was the time to see! From the shadows, like the tales of great spies that would stealth their way from kingdom to kingdom, learning grand truths and wisdoms, Finn crept further out into the trial's light.
So it was that his imagination converted him into one of those legends as he shimmied along the wall in plain sight. But to Finn, he was invisible. No one could see him against the sun-bleached walls, right? He was on a mission to gather information.

Really, what a weird bunch of people. Why would they give his dad a jug?

So Berin stood there with the offered water in his hands, an accepted gift. He learnt over the years of the specific customs that seemed to be universal among the tribes. Especially those connected to water.
“My pleasure, ma’ams.” He would say when Saed’s wife and mother were introduced. “We will gladly join you for the evenings. In the meantime, we’ll help you mend your things and offer some of the humble stock we have.” After all, life in the desert must have been hard. Berin could never imagine, nor did he want to experience it himself, but something told him it was not for everyone so the little kindness he could spare, he would.
The men continued to talk, sorting out where to park the carts, where the horses can be tied to get some water to drink and food to eat. People spilled out to set up the said camp and Finn didn’t even bother to run to his mum and tell her it was safe to come out. Instead, he braved himself out of his brilliant hiding spot. Looking here and there, up and down, at the feet and the faces, it was hard to stay out of everyone’s way. But each time he managed to dodge and before he knew it, his secret agent persona was gone and he was but a boy trapped in the amazement of the world around him.
So much so that he stopped looking where he was going and when he was backing away from this man as tall as a mountain and twice is wide, he ended up bumping into someone else.
“Uh, ay! Sorry!” He blurted out, spinning around so fast his body threatened to do another turn and twist his neck. There behind him, he noticed the lady from earlier. The one introduced to his dad with a big swell for a belly.
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word count: 797
Favourite quote:
They do not yet understand the purpose of forgiveness. It is not to spare wrongdoers a punishment they deserve. It is to spare the injured ones the ongoing pain they do not.

~ Ymiden
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