"Gosto curse these bushes," grunted Urnyras Jael. "I am circling!"
It was night time. It was dark.
The swamps of the southern basin was sticky, hot and suffocating for a person who just got down from the freezing peaks of Lyca'naus Heights.
"Gosto CURSE!" she screamed, as a mosquito stung her on the neck. She literally growled, unleashing all the annoyance she's had.
...
N'ya was two days behind, and her direction was towards Orbh Forest. She has only heard of that forest in spooky tales, she remembered adults speaking of that place in apocalyptic idioms when she was a kid. She never dared to talk about it, now she had to walk by that place. She didn't know whether she should feel excited or scared.
When she thought of it, she realized it was a bit both.
She always appreciated experience, and there were a lot of things she tried doing just for the sake of doing, when she was younger. She still was quite young, but she had an opinion almost about everything she was surrounded with and she always considered this to be a trait, rather than arrogance; however other than specific topics she specifically avoided, such as politics. She never was interested in such gibberish, and she knew she'd never be.
She always avoided everything that she thought was dishonest and deceitful.
"After all this trouble," she said aloud, "I better succeed with that task, whatever that is."
...
After eventually completing her journey through the basin and reaching the forests of South Lyca'naus, she realized that the weather was getting colder and colder towards Orbh Forest. Yet, it was still at least two days of walking to reach to the border. After that, she could assume, there still was another three to four days to reach the Orbh City itself.
The more she walked through south, she could clearly feel the shift of climate at the mountains and the southern highlands. Now she was constantly walking down the incline.
After another day of walking, she made it to a riverside. 'A fitting place to camp,' she thought, dropping her sack, with a sigh. She sat on the grass below tall oaks, peering above, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. Then, in a short period of time, she set up her tent.
...
Night fell. The ashes of the campfire she lid was scattering all over the gray-green grass, with the wind starting to blow gently. It was only after a short time Mastras, the Red Rider of the Night, showed itself up in the sky. She yawned, before getting out of her tent. It was silent, no living creature about. She could see some forest crows, but that was it.
"I better get going," she said aloud. "It's nighttime, I can proceed faster and hopefully reach up to a village to restore my stock." Indeed, she was running out of food.
Shortly after she was ready to depart, she went by the riverbank to fill up her flask. She kneeled, dipped the flask into the water.
She heard a crackle, behind, within the woods. Her head almost momentarily turned back, with a focused frown. She slowly took the flask, plugged it and left it on the ground.
She grabbed the hilt of one of her light blades, slowly turning around her body and observing the woods in silence. There was nothing in sight.
Then slowly, tiny little creatures with long, saggy ears, blue, wide and quite scary eyes and a twilight-blue skin started to walk towards Urnyras Jael, slowly encircling her. They were holding weapons - relatively big when compared to their size. They were, at most, one third of Urnyras Jael's length, and she is known to be a fylla shorter than average. There was a low, murmuring gibberish that she did not understand at all. Urnyras froze, trying to understand what is going on - and who or what these creatures are.
"FYLLA!" said a (relatively) taller, robed tiny man, with ornaments all over his body and a tribal crown-like thing on top of his head, also a shield surprisingly well crafted hanging from his back, frowning towards Urnyras, looking directly in her eyes. This little one had a less pale face, and his was holding a torch close to his face. "WHO? WHY? COME!"
"Erm," could say Urnyras, didn't know if her situation was dire or funny. "I am just passing by. I am sorry if I have caused trouble."
"TROUBLE! FYLLA, TROUBLE FOR MUGA, YES! YES!"
"Muga?" said Urnyras. "Is this your name, or the name of your people?"
"MY PEOPLE, MUGA!" screamed the little one, showing the others impatiently. "MUGA! AND FYLLA, COME! PRISONER!"
"I don't have time for th-"
Urnyras fainted, as the leader of this 'Muga' people held his hand towards her head, slowly mumbling a spell.
...
She woke up in a cold, wet cave, half of her clothes either ripped or taken, her blades unsheathed. She was chained on a wall. She was wearing a torn, black shirt and her undergarments.
She opened her eyes to a dreadfully blurry vision. All she has felt was a terrible headache and unintelligible gibberish echoing all over the cave. Her vision was coming back to her slowly, and every second, she noticed another detail. She was behind (probably) iron bars, obviously imprisoned. She could see several 'Muga' guards, waiting in front of her cell. She shook her head, as the dizziness was getting pretty annoying. She's felt like waking up in the morning after a good, fun night with lots of Shadyvine Ale.
"Where is it?" she could ask, unaware if there is anyone around her. She thought not, however.
"Ualtha Mugija," replied an old, tired voice. "A Muga stronghold."
Urnyras slowly turned her head towards that direction, but merely moving her head gave a dreadful boost to her headache. She gasped, frowned in pain. "Who are you? What happened to me?"
"I am Beus of Rolinbragh," old voice spoke. "Just like you, I was captured by these creatures - a few days ago."
"Who are these creatures?" Urnyras asked. Shortly after, she realzed that the man wasn't chained to the wall entirely, but only a thick, neck chain was holding him attached to the wall.
"Well, I am not entirely sure," he shrugged. His face looked pretty old, dirty and weak; his eyes had purple rounds around, his face and arms all bruised. He was wearing torn and stained clothes.
Urnyras was sure he wasn't treated well these past days.
"However, I suspect they are a local race, unknown to many others," he said, after a moment of silence. "I have never heard of them, or never seen anything similar to them. They have a strange way of communication - they don't talk much among themselves, or maybe just not high-volumed enough for my old ears. It is always about gazing - one looks at another, and they know what the other says."
"Strange," said Urnyras, slowly being embraced by a relief as the pain and dizziness started to wear off.
"They are a tense race, I suppose," he said, with a dramatic smile on his face. "They are almost always panicked, running around."
It was night time. It was dark.
The swamps of the southern basin was sticky, hot and suffocating for a person who just got down from the freezing peaks of Lyca'naus Heights.
"Gosto CURSE!" she screamed, as a mosquito stung her on the neck. She literally growled, unleashing all the annoyance she's had.
...
N'ya was two days behind, and her direction was towards Orbh Forest. She has only heard of that forest in spooky tales, she remembered adults speaking of that place in apocalyptic idioms when she was a kid. She never dared to talk about it, now she had to walk by that place. She didn't know whether she should feel excited or scared.
When she thought of it, she realized it was a bit both.
She always appreciated experience, and there were a lot of things she tried doing just for the sake of doing, when she was younger. She still was quite young, but she had an opinion almost about everything she was surrounded with and she always considered this to be a trait, rather than arrogance; however other than specific topics she specifically avoided, such as politics. She never was interested in such gibberish, and she knew she'd never be.
She always avoided everything that she thought was dishonest and deceitful.
"After all this trouble," she said aloud, "I better succeed with that task, whatever that is."
...
After eventually completing her journey through the basin and reaching the forests of South Lyca'naus, she realized that the weather was getting colder and colder towards Orbh Forest. Yet, it was still at least two days of walking to reach to the border. After that, she could assume, there still was another three to four days to reach the Orbh City itself.
The more she walked through south, she could clearly feel the shift of climate at the mountains and the southern highlands. Now she was constantly walking down the incline.
After another day of walking, she made it to a riverside. 'A fitting place to camp,' she thought, dropping her sack, with a sigh. She sat on the grass below tall oaks, peering above, wiping the sweat off of her forehead. Then, in a short period of time, she set up her tent.
...
Night fell. The ashes of the campfire she lid was scattering all over the gray-green grass, with the wind starting to blow gently. It was only after a short time Mastras, the Red Rider of the Night, showed itself up in the sky. She yawned, before getting out of her tent. It was silent, no living creature about. She could see some forest crows, but that was it.
"I better get going," she said aloud. "It's nighttime, I can proceed faster and hopefully reach up to a village to restore my stock." Indeed, she was running out of food.
Shortly after she was ready to depart, she went by the riverbank to fill up her flask. She kneeled, dipped the flask into the water.
She heard a crackle, behind, within the woods. Her head almost momentarily turned back, with a focused frown. She slowly took the flask, plugged it and left it on the ground.
She grabbed the hilt of one of her light blades, slowly turning around her body and observing the woods in silence. There was nothing in sight.
Then slowly, tiny little creatures with long, saggy ears, blue, wide and quite scary eyes and a twilight-blue skin started to walk towards Urnyras Jael, slowly encircling her. They were holding weapons - relatively big when compared to their size. They were, at most, one third of Urnyras Jael's length, and she is known to be a fylla shorter than average. There was a low, murmuring gibberish that she did not understand at all. Urnyras froze, trying to understand what is going on - and who or what these creatures are.
"FYLLA!" said a (relatively) taller, robed tiny man, with ornaments all over his body and a tribal crown-like thing on top of his head, also a shield surprisingly well crafted hanging from his back, frowning towards Urnyras, looking directly in her eyes. This little one had a less pale face, and his was holding a torch close to his face. "WHO? WHY? COME!"
"Erm," could say Urnyras, didn't know if her situation was dire or funny. "I am just passing by. I am sorry if I have caused trouble."
"TROUBLE! FYLLA, TROUBLE FOR MUGA, YES! YES!"
"Muga?" said Urnyras. "Is this your name, or the name of your people?"
"MY PEOPLE, MUGA!" screamed the little one, showing the others impatiently. "MUGA! AND FYLLA, COME! PRISONER!"
"I don't have time for th-"
Urnyras fainted, as the leader of this 'Muga' people held his hand towards her head, slowly mumbling a spell.
...
She woke up in a cold, wet cave, half of her clothes either ripped or taken, her blades unsheathed. She was chained on a wall. She was wearing a torn, black shirt and her undergarments.
She opened her eyes to a dreadfully blurry vision. All she has felt was a terrible headache and unintelligible gibberish echoing all over the cave. Her vision was coming back to her slowly, and every second, she noticed another detail. She was behind (probably) iron bars, obviously imprisoned. She could see several 'Muga' guards, waiting in front of her cell. She shook her head, as the dizziness was getting pretty annoying. She's felt like waking up in the morning after a good, fun night with lots of Shadyvine Ale.
"Where is it?" she could ask, unaware if there is anyone around her. She thought not, however.
"Ualtha Mugija," replied an old, tired voice. "A Muga stronghold."
Urnyras slowly turned her head towards that direction, but merely moving her head gave a dreadful boost to her headache. She gasped, frowned in pain. "Who are you? What happened to me?"
"I am Beus of Rolinbragh," old voice spoke. "Just like you, I was captured by these creatures - a few days ago."
"Who are these creatures?" Urnyras asked. Shortly after, she realzed that the man wasn't chained to the wall entirely, but only a thick, neck chain was holding him attached to the wall.
"Well, I am not entirely sure," he shrugged. His face looked pretty old, dirty and weak; his eyes had purple rounds around, his face and arms all bruised. He was wearing torn and stained clothes.
Urnyras was sure he wasn't treated well these past days.
"However, I suspect they are a local race, unknown to many others," he said, after a moment of silence. "I have never heard of them, or never seen anything similar to them. They have a strange way of communication - they don't talk much among themselves, or maybe just not high-volumed enough for my old ears. It is always about gazing - one looks at another, and they know what the other says."
"Strange," said Urnyras, slowly being embraced by a relief as the pain and dizziness started to wear off.
"They are a tense race, I suppose," he said, with a dramatic smile on his face. "They are almost always panicked, running around."
...
Urnyras realized that she has fallen asleep when she woke up with a ray of light flowing in from a small window at the cell across hers and Beus'. Beus was sleeping on the stone ground, unconsciously shivering. He had a frowning expression on his face and his body seemed to entirely paralyzed. She tried to break free from the chains to wake him up, but she failed.
"Beus," she whispered. "Beus, wake up, you'll freeze to death."
Beus didn't seem to have heard.
"Beus-"
The cell door was slammed open by two Muga. They quickly went by Urnyras, unchained her from the wall. She realized that her arms were almost entirely numb, she could hardly feel them. She tried to move her neck, which was not any better than her arms. She peered down to Muga men.
"YOU MOVE TO CHIEFTAIN!" one of them literally yelled at her.
"Okay, okay," she said. "Chill out."
"GAAAH!" said the other, poking Urnyras with the spear he is holding. "MOVE!"
She glanced at Beus for one last time, before being moved out of her cell.
...
They walked a long hallway after climbing the narrow stairs of the dungeon. They were still inside the cave, yet she realized the handcraft was quite impressive. As tribal as they looked, these 'Muga' people seemed to have a lot more than they reflected outside. She could sense that these people were somehow bothered by someone, or something. Urnyras felt it as an irrational, distant, instinctual feeling.
The entire walk within the cave was climbing. Eventually, they have reached a broader corridor going all the way to a stone door, with several carvings on. One of the Muga escorting Urnyras pushed the door - into a large hall. There stood a Muga, dressed up in a much more luxurious way, with trophies hanging around his neck, with a huge sword on his back, a crown probably made of dark iron. He was looking at Urnyras under a weak candle light, revealing the wrinkles of his old age.
'This has to be their chieftain,' thought Urnyras, waiting somehow impatiently.
"Welcome to Ualtha Mugija," said the chieftain, with a fluent Solian. "The Mugian capital. I sincerely hope you will forgive the... impolite welcoming."
"What do you want from me?" said Urnyras.
The chieftain folded his hands behind his back, started to walk around the hall looking at the ground, apparently thinking. After a couple of seconds, he looked up at Urnyras.
"We need help," he said, straightforwardly. "We need your help."
"What help?" asked Urnyras with an obvious confusion. "Help? Why should I help you after all you've put me through?"
"You will help us, dear fylla, if you wish not to be put through more of what you have seen so far," said the chieftain. "Forgive my rudeness, but we need help. We are in terrible suffering for months, and my scouts told me that you are a traveller from the Peak Temple. If you come from there, you must be a Disciple. You being a fylla makes it more likely. You, I suppose, are powerful enough to help to diss a menace. A curse upon my people."
"What-"
"Help us, fylla," said the chieftain, this time more like begging. "Help us, and we shall grant you wonderful gifts of our nation, and name you a hero of Muga, sing songs in your name and sacrifice our animals for you in our rituals. Pray for your well being everyday. Not many people pass by these lands. You are sent by the Gods to us. Help us. Or else we will have to kill you."
Urnyras felt a little nervous. She couldn't prevent a nervous smirk. 'This has to be a joke,' she thought.
"Oh, I have never been begged for help, and have never been threatened with death at the same time," said Urnyras, rather sarcastically. "First, tell your guardians to let me go. Then we shall talk."
Hiç yorum yok:
Yorum Gönder