[Mature] Garaian Lunacy: The Return

Memory thread.

This is a forum where you can write threads in the wilderness of the Southern continent.
User avatar
Diana
Approved Character
Posts: 116
Joined: Tue Feb 16, 2021 3:58 pm
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Thing of Rumour
Renown: 40
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Plot Notes
Templates
Point Bank Thread
Storybook
Wealth Tier: Tier 4

Milestones

Miscellaneous

[Mature] Garaian Lunacy: The Return



Cylus 22nd 479

It was perhaps fitting that I alone among the sisters of my small clan, after having awoken from a long slumber that saw much of my skills dulled to the point of uselessness, had been appointed to train under the Sortzailea. The Sortzailea being the artists of my mother’s kind, not only the functional artists, the constructors and crafters of useful things, but also those who crafted beauty. They were also painters, seamstresses, weavers and jewelers. Then there was the subsect that I had been trained under, that of the storytellers, poets, and playwrights, who were tasked with chronicling the exploits of the shadows of Augiery.

Why was I uniquely suited to be a chronicler for our clan? For as long as I remember, among my sisters, I alone feared the shadows that crept in before slumber. My sisters mocked and teased me for leaving a light on in my sleeping chambers, in the clan home in Augiery’s Hive. I alone feared what my mother’s kind were. It was, perhaps, a consequence of lacking their gift of shadows. A sign of the Nightmaiden’s disfavor toward my mother, that she’d been cursed to bear a daughter who wasn’t quite a Naer, but something else.

And because I had a special fear for our kind, because I dreaded the darkness that crept in at night, and feared many things that came with it, I was uniquely suited to telling the tales of horror and dread. Of spreading Augiery’s dreadful reputation far and wide, so that it propagated in the minds of lesser races.

I was lost in reverie, in the tent at our camp, as I awaited the return of my sisters from their raiding party. As breaks went on, I became distant and must have dozed off as I daydreamed. My dreams often were a pleasant reprieve from the constant horror I was witness to. Yet they were only temporary, and fleeting. For as I was started awake by the sudden hooting and hollering of our sisters, so too came the wailing and lamentations of their prisoners. The ‘fruits’ of their raid.

I didn’t emerge from the tent then, but heard everything that happened outside of it. The screams of the butchered, the wails of their men, and the carving of flesh, the dissection of viscera. I knew the sounds well, though I rarely had occasion to witness them. Unlike many of my sisters, I rarely had much of a taste for their peculiar brand of cuisine. Often enough, I relied on what ‘exports’ arrived from other lands to supplement my diet. Still, that didn’t excuse me from partaking of the blood crop, every once and again.

I don’t know what it was that came over me in those moments, as the butchery commenced. I should have kept my head stuck in the tent, but curiosity overruled common sense in this case. I leaned out of the opening of the tent, to watch what was going on.

Scenes of horror and dread. The men we’d captured, standing by in makeshift bamboo cages, rattled against them furiously as our sisters butchered their sisters, mothers, and wives. The female children were kept from this butchery, however. They would be raised as slaves, to secure the ultimate viability of the slave population in Augiery.

I watched in mute and impotent horror as their limbs were carved, and guts stolen from them. When at last it became too much to witness, I crept back into my tent, and tucked myself in a dark corner of the canvas shelter. There to await the recounting of our sisters’ tales of conquest.
Last edited by Diana on Sun Mar 07, 2021 3:56 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 618
User avatar
Diana
Approved Character
Posts: 116
Joined: Tue Feb 16, 2021 3:58 pm
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Thing of Rumour
Renown: 40
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Plot Notes
Templates
Point Bank Thread
Storybook
Wealth Tier: Tier 4

Milestones

Miscellaneous

Re: [Mature] Garaian Lunacy: The Return



I could count the days that we emerged from the shambles that remained of Garaia. What had once been a thriving village in ages past, was only forest. If one dug into the dirt, they might find bits and traces of pottery or rotted wood, signs that there’d been a settlement there, or perhaps a caravan had been through and discarded trash, many arcs ago. The place was full of menace however, particularly for one who wasn’t a Naer, yet knew the history of the place.

So it was, I was glad to have that gaping maw leading into the horrors of the underworld of Augiery behind me, at least for a time. Here, at least, there were campfires to keep me warm and to fall asleep by of a night. Not that Naer needed them for purposes of heat or light, but to cook the flesh of their prey. As often was the case, when the sisters returned from their hunt, and commenced what butchery they could of whatever they found, I remained in my tent, ready to receive their tales, and whatever leftovers they had to spare, which I had the stomach to eat.

Soon enough, however, one of my sisters, her iridescent lavender eyes shining through the pale light of the tent, poked her head through. I looked up at her, and nodded, ”Come on inside… Let’s hear your…” But instead of entering, she gave me a wicked smile.

”Cousin,” She said. The Naer never referred to me as sister, strange as it might seem. Another secret, another joke I wasn’t privy to, perhaps. But I never learned its meaning through all my centuries. ”It’s time for you to learn what it means to survive.” So saying, she tossed a bronze, sharpened cleaving sword onto the ground below my tent.

Tentatively, I reached out for the object, more in curiosity than feeling a true need or desire for it. What did she mean about survival? I found out as she sent one of her captives sprawling into the tent with me. The human woman was young, in her prime. She looked strong, and able to defend herself without a weapon. Yet as she looked at me, a stripling wrapped in a bulky robe, bearing a sword as one might an unwanted parcel or curiosity, she backpedaled, toward the entrance of the tent. Yet when she got there, a silhouette of one of my sisters frightened her into backing away, back toward the center of the tent.

So began a frantic dance, where she would try to find any corner of the tent to hide, only to be frightened into the center, with me. I, who’d not shed a single drop of blood upon awakening, about fifty arcs prior - and Nightmaiden only knew if I’d ever killed in need or anger - was given to the impossible. To butcher a woman as I’d only see my sisters do in passing, their silhouettes playing upon the canvas of my tent. Once in their acts of mass butchery, but now teasing with their dancing outside of the tent, pumping their weapons in the air, and egging me on to do as they did. Kill or be killed. It was the way of my mother’s kind. And so, I stood, bending my legs at the knees to give myself some purchase on the ground. The woman, recognizing that the danger wasn’t the fearful shapes coming from without, but the one in front of her, brandishing a sword, Lashed out, striking with her ankle against mine.

I fell to the ground, and we grappled, kicking, biting, and clawing at each other. My breath came in ragged starts and fits, and I thought I would suffocate from terror before she ever got the blade out of my hand, and into my neck.

It was all a blur, of breathing, biting, clawing and gouging until somehow, the blade found purchase. Without really meaning or trying to, somehow I’d rolled over, and stabbed her through the ribs. Seeing this, as I straddled the dying woman, we stared at each other in the eyes for a few long moments, her breaths now coming in ragged starts.

Then I lifted the sword, and brought it down on her, carving her up as I imagined my sisters did. Blood spattered at the canvas on the outside of my tent, showing droplets on the silhouettes for all to see outside of it.

A round of hooting and hollering sounded from without, as my sisters celebrated the loss of their chronicler’s perceived innocence. The rest was a blur, as I was dragged from the tent, along with the carcass of my victim. There, she was taken off, to be harvested, while the rest of the sisters celebrated our kill.

”Cousin, how does it feel?” Came the chants, in various wordings and phrased differently, their meaning twisted at times by almost inscrutable Euthic signs. "Now you've your own story to tell!"

All I wanted to see, the only part of this I focused on, was the brightness of the campfire, and the moons shining above. Somehow, I drew comfort from those things along in this moment, while my sisters celebrated their newest warrior.

I merely stood as they danced around me, the viscid blood dripping from the edge of the sword which still rested in my hands.
word count: 908
User avatar
Doran
Peer Reviewer
Peer Reviewer
Posts: 3567
Joined: Sat Sep 03, 2016 3:43 am
Race: Mortal Born
Profession: Alchemist
Renown: 1162
Character Sheet
Character Wiki
Plot Notes
Templates
Letters
Point Bank Thread
Wealth Tier: Tier 10

Re: [Mature] Garaian Lunacy: The Return

Image
Diana:

Knowledge:
Combat (Unarmed): a sweeping kick to the ankle can bring you down swiftly.
Combat (Blades): Rolling with a blade and an opponent can lead to accidental stabbing fatalities.
Detection: Noticing silhouettes outside one’s tent.
Endurance: The rush of combat can drain your energy, afterward.
Storytelling: Tales of Horror come easily to those who are frightened.
Storytelling: Tales of Horror serve as propaganda to glorify the Naer.

Loot: -
Lost: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown:
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 10
- - -
Comments: At first, I was a bit surprised when I noticed that you wrote this thread in first person as I’m not used to it. It made this story much more atmospheric though, and it made me feel much closer to Diana. Your writing this thread in first person makes it feel more like a real memory, if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t mind reading another thread like this sometime!

That being said, I appreciate that you explained who the Sortzailea are. I’m not very familiar with the lore of Augiery, I have to admit. I do agree that Diana is uniquely suited to being a chronicler for her clan. I also like that you pointed out how she is different from her sisters. I wonder if the Naerikk even suspect that she’s a Mortalborn!

This thread was a bit darker than the ones I’ve read so far. I really enjoyed the atmosphere that you created here. Diana seems different than in her threads that take place in the present.

There were violence and gore as the raiding party returned and butchered the prisoners, but it was not too much in my opinion. As far as I am concerned, you handled that aspect of the thread – and the second part where Diana killed the woman – well.

Enjoy your rewards!
word count: 309

Mutations

N/A

Blessings

N/A

Worn Items

Ring of Reversal
Ring of Immunity
Post Reply Request an XP Review Claim Wealth Thread

Return to “Southern Swamps”