the tale of urnyras jael, part XVIII: the hunting party.

Muga chieftain took a sip from his drink, as the bonfire reflecting the traces of old age on his face. His expression was grim, and he was thoughtful; as if picking the right words to explain the situation. Urnyras Jael raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to speak.

"We, muga, are a subtle race. Not many others know about us, and that's the best for us. We have settled our lives within these woods, under the soil, inside the caves - we are fine. We were, at least. We are not anymore. This lurking menace, doomed us. We are scared. We are tired of moving in the woods all the time, running away. It follows us. It sees us."

"-What- follows you?" asked Urnyras Jael, rather impatiently.

"We don't know," shrugged the muga chieftain, in desperation. A giant, devouring us. Slaying my scouts, hunters. We never see them again. We hear the echoes of its dreadful screaming within the woods, in the distance. We tremble in fear everytime. Our spears, arrows and steel will not harm it."

"Can you describe it to me? What does it look like? How big is it? Is it a beast? What do you know about it?" Urnyras Jael asked. She could feel the fire of excitement burning inside her with such an unexpected, challenging quest.

"It is a beast, that's for sure. Red eyes, sharp fangs - the Spirits witness, the sight was so intimidating, I wish not to see it again. It is huge - even taller than what they call a kheron - and broader, of course. His body is covered with hair. It carries a talisman, too. One of the hunted scouts told so - shortly before he died of his wounds, last week."

Urnyras Jael scratched her chin, nodding. Unexpectedly, muga chieftain stood up and ran towards Urnyras Jael and kneeled, holding her hand.

"Help us, fylla," he said, with a trembling voice, peering to the gound. "Save us. Only you can save us, relieve us from this curse. You are sent by the Gods, Spirits bless you."

Urnyras Jael smirked.

"I will," she said. "But under one condition, if you wish to negotiate."

"Say it," muga chieftain looked up to her face.

"I want Beus to be released," she said. "He looks like a noble knight of Rolinbragh - he can be of help."

"The eila prisoner? He is an old man, he is weak!" said chieftain, rather surprised. "Why do you want him?"

"Him," said Urnyras Jael, "and one muga warrior to witness the glory to be bestowed upon your people. A worthy, skilled, honored warrior of your tribe shall help me, too."

"Fine," sighed the chieftain. "Your wishes are granted." He quickly screamed some words in his native tongue. Two muga guards quickly ran towards the cell she was imprisoned. Shortly after, the muga guardians brought Beus of Rolinbragh on a sedan - he was still unconscious.

Muga chieftain muttered some words, holding his hand above Beus' head. Beus stopped shivering shortly. Urnyras Jael could see his breathing returning to a normal pace.

Finally, the chieftain clapped his hands, and several muga, out of nowhere, ran to bring some food to three of them.

Shortly after, Beus opened his eyes. His bones slowly warmed by the heat of the bonfire, and Urnyras Jael was treating his old body. Shortly after the foods arrived, she asked for blankets and some water, too.

"Are you alright?" asked Urnyras Jael. "How do you feel?"

"Where am I?" asked Beus, looking around. "Am I dead already?"

"No, no," Urnryas shook her head. "Muga released you. You are a free man now - I mean, as free as I am."

"What do you mean?" said Beus, trying to figure out Urnyras Jael's words. "I don't-"

He fell asleep again, his old body collapsing because of days of tiredness.

"Let him rest," muga chieftain observed the two of them. "He will be fine."

...

Beus quickly recovered, merely in three days. The muga chieftain ordered his tribesmen to return his armor and weapons and provided Urnyras Jael and Beus the best means of accommodation.

The best you can expect from a nomadic tribe, of course.

"I can't thank you enough," said Beus. "I owe you my life. If there is any way I can repay-"

"There is a way," said Urnyras Jael, peering at Beus with a smile. "These muga released us, so we can hunt this 'menace' they are cursed by."

"What beast?" asked Beus, in surprise.

"The beast that caused our lovely muga people go tense and paranoid," said Urnryas Jael. "The source of their troubles. They are being hunted by this unknown, giant hairy beast that they are uneasy for a while now. They released me so I can hunt it down. I offered the condition that I shall do so if only they release you to aid me, as well as a brave, strong muga warrior to accompany us."

"I have seen and slain many foes in the past," said Beus, with a slight, calm smile. "If that is my life debt, of course I will aid you with my sword."

"Thank you, Beus," Urnyras Jael said. "Let's hunt it down and get out of these woods. I don't have much time to linger, anyway."

They've heard a clinging voice in front of the entrance of their tent. Urnyras Jael slowly approached the entrance, unsheathing a dagger, slightly opening the canvas cloth.

"What is it?" she whispered to the muga, armed tip to toe, waiting in front of the tent anxiously. The muga jumped with that unexpected voice, as Urnyras Jael opened up the canvas entirely.

"What is it?" she repeated.

"I-I-"

"Speak, will you?"

"I am Geju," the muga could say. "I am a warrior, I will help you."

"So you are the warrior that the chieftain assigned?" asked Urnyras Jael.

"N-no," Geju shook his head. "He didn't tell me. I am volunteering."

"Wouldn't that be a problem?" Urnyras Jael asked, as she kneeled in front of Geju.

"I don't know," said Geju, looking down, apparently shy to look at Urnyras Jael in the eye. "I am a warrior, I want to prove my worth to my people. The c-chieftain... would never assign me. Everyone thinks I am weak and cowardly..."

"Are you?" asked Urnyras Jael.

"No, no!" said Geju, in a panic, with a touch of offense as he frowned. "I am... just... inexperienced, I guess."

"Will you be able to hunt that beast with us?"

"I think I will," Geju said. "I have what it takes, I just... never had the chance."

"Let's talk to the chieftain, then," said Urnyras, standing up again. "In any case, we need his approval."

...

The muga chieftain laughed so hard that Urnyras Jael had to plug her ears.

"Geju?! With you?? To hunt the beast? I am not sure that's the best choice, fylla!" he said, while wiping off his tears of laughter. Urnyras Jael slowly turned her gaze towards Geju, seeing the poor muga with a broken pride hurt so bad in her heart, she quirked her lips, turning her gaze towards the chieftain again.

"And look at the armor he's wearing! Where did you fing it, Geju? Stole it from your sister's clothes?" the chieftain burst into another laughter.

"Chieftain, if you allow," said Urnyras Jael, feeling very bad for Geju, she had to do what had to be done. "I wish the companionship of Geju with me on my hunting quest."

"W-what?" said the chieftain, still chuckling. "Are you serious? He still doesn't have a single kill or a title, and he is older than our bravest hero, Vugre the Skullsmasher!"

"Maybe that is because he was never given the opportunity," said Urnyras Jael. "I humbly ask you to pledge his services to me."

"Granted," he said, with a dismissive hand gesture. "It's better - I won't be sparing my best warriors!"

"So, it is formed," said Beus, stepping in the chieftain's tent. "A hunting party of three companions. I am sure we will return here with the head of this beast."

"I hope you do, with all due honesty," said chieftain. "And probably with the remains of Geju!"

As he bursted into another laughter, Urnyras Jael hastily bowed to the chieftain, and led Geju and Beus out of the tent.

"I am worthless," said Geju. A lightning fell somewhere not so far away, and the rain started to fall.

Urnyras Jael, ignoring the rain, kneeled in front of Geju again.

"Look above, my friend," said Urnyras Jael, holding Geju's clumsily placed shoulderpad. "We are on a quest, and the rain will be accompanying us. Leave what you were, here, in this very camp. Leave what you were, or what the others think you were. Leave it here, dead. Lying on the soil. Leave aside everyone else's prejudices. I give you my word that when we are done with this task, you will return home, with such a great honor that your tribe will praise you every day."

"If I leave myself dead here," said Geju, "How am I to live?"

"Sometimes," said Urnyras Jael, "It is this fresh rain that makes you feel alive."

Under the heavy rain, within the chill it brought along, three hunting companions merged with the gray-greenness of the Southern Lyca'naen Woods.

the tale of urnyras jael, part XVII: salty streets of Calua - part II

"Greetings, sir," spoke Urnyras Jael, with her soft, disguised voice. Her transformed accent was Dwesian, but still with a touch of fyllian dialect. She was trying hard to keep a smile at all times - she was trying not to look anxious. It wasn't her first incognito experience, but it was still strange to walk around and to know that others do not see you as what or who you are. She couldn't stop that urge to look behind her every now and then, with an unavoidable sensation as if someone would attack from behind, figuring out who or what she is.

"Yes, how can I help yae?" said the old, dirty-looking, typical-Caluan clerk, lifting his head up from the paperwork he was busy with; speaking in a stinking Kith'lath accent.

"We are looking for the clerk called Aural," said Urnyras Jael, clasping her hands in front of her, nervously yet with a significant effort not to reveal any anxiety.

"Aural? Well, he is upstaers. He keeps the family records, that's what yaer's looking fer?"

"That's correct," said Alùn. "Thank you very much, kind sir."

Old clerk simply mumbled and grunted, nodding his head, followed by a dismissive hand gesture.

"I assume we bumped into a kind, polite Caluan official," whispered Urnyras to Alùn, as they headed towards the stairs to find Aural the clerk. Alùn snickered.

...

"Aural?" asked Alùn, to a young-looking, slim, blue-eyed, blond man. He didn't look Caluan or even Kith'lathian; he had the appearance of an Ow'landese. When he spoke, his accent simply approved Alùn's presumption.

"Yes, how can I help?"

"We are in need of some records," said Urnyras Jael impatiently. "El'nar family."

"El'n-, ah, right," nodded Aural, rather frantically. He was apparently not expecting them this early, and for several seconds he simply didn't know what to do, or how to react. He eventually smiled, and beckoned them over. "Follow me, they are inside the archives."

He pushed a thick, wooden door after unlocking the rusty lock with a key he kept around his neck. He carefully closed the door after carefully observing other clerks and if anyone saw them or not. As he walked in, he quickly called Alùn and Urnyras to walk in too. He shook off some dust from his tunic. He started to cough, most possibly because of the dust: Urnyras Jael wondered for how many decades -not years, but decades- this archive was untouched.

As Alùn and Urnyras Jael stepped in, they started to sneeze and cough too - the dust was simply blurring their vision and it was almost impossible to regularly breathe. Eventually, Aural reached to a shelf, and started to search for something - probably a tome of records, Urnryas Jael thought. Before she was done thinking about it, Aural pulled a book.

A secret pathway swung open behind that shelf. It was a narrow and low pathway, however it didn't look as dusty and unused as this very archive room did. Aural grabbed a torch from the wall (which was lit) and asked them to follow. They slowly walked down the pathway for a considerable time, until they reached another wooden door. Aural hung the torch on the empty iron ring and pulled it down - the door slowly opened inwards. They walked in, and Aural locked the door again.

The room they were now in had a huge ceiling. It was dark-gray, with long, dark curtains covering long but narrow, colorful windows. It resembled those temples of Lyca'nae Verd in Rolinbragh, yet as if they were abandoned. It had an altar, wooden benches and long seats, yet no sign of life Aural slowly walked towards a fireplace below a huge portrait of a noble knight that neither Urnyras Jael nor Alùn could identify. Urnyras Jael wondered for how long they walked, since she did not remember seeing such a high chapel nearby the Town Hall.

"Welcome," said Aural, with a friendly smile on his face, after lighting the fireplace. He shook off some more dust unpleasantly. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. You moved fast. It is good."

For two, three seconds, they waited without talking. Then, they sat to the benches next to the fireplace, as Aural gestured.

"There wasn't much intervention," shrugged Alùn. "Just a bunch of pirates - ah, and a shady man, killed our only prisoner, before he could talk. I was about to snap the name of the Bannerlord out of him. I believe the Bannerlord should be taken down, that's for sure now."

"It always was, honestly," said Aural. "Calua is known to be an easygoing city when it comes to politics - people are not patriotic. They simply do not care about the freedom of Kith'lath or the Solian mandate. You see, long time has passed since the heroic decades of Kith'lath and its strong ties with the Solian Empire. Now it is practically a pirate hub. The Empire is weak here, fellows. I mean, for Lyca'nae's fiery gaze - when Wundhian fleet came crushing down the local fleet, the entire town was simply idle. They are annoyingly unresponsive."

"What about those pirate mercenaries we have encountered in the sewer line?" asked Urnyras Jael.

"Well, as you have named it - they are mercenaries. If the Empire was faster than the Bannerlord to hire them, we would have an additional fleet, you know." He smiled, then poked the burning wood in the fireplace with an iron stick.

"So, you're telling me that the Bannerlord is simply fighting back -or will fight back- with a bunch of... mercenaries?" Alùn asked, he looked rather confused.

"That's what they want it to look like, if you ask me," said Aural. "I sense the crap is deeper, and noone is courageous enough to put their bare hands into it to see what lies there. Look, the Bannerlord might be a fierce man, but he is no idiot. He wouldn't simply hire a bunch of seadogs with rotten galleons and rum and charge against the Empire. He must have some support from the Dytherian invaders. If nothing, he timed the rebellion so perfectly, as the Empire was dealing with the invasion, it wasn't much of a big deal to organize a local mercenary army to separate Kith'lath. The King is very busy at the moment. I've heard the armies have ruined Dwese.

"There is a battle in Orbh City," said Urnyras Jael. "Gosto He'uch knows how many perished so far."

Aural looked down. They didn't speak, all listened to the burning and softly, gently crackling dry wood. Aural grabbed the iron stick and poked the wood a little bit more, putting another on top.

"I was not well-informed of the true intent of your visit," asked Aural. "Please ask me, and I shall provide you whatever information you need."

"There will be a full-scale assault on Calua City soon," said Alùn. Urnyras Jael did not know of such thing, yet she could surely assume such assault might actually occur, neither Krischnokh nor Gallanae-mylen spoke of such an actually-planned assault - soon. She raised an eyebrow, and listened to what Alùn had to say.

"And what the N'yaian Forces require is an army within the walls before the assault begins. You know, disguised army - which will turn against the Bannerlord shortly after the assault begins, paralyzing the Bannerlord and leaving him no space. Since, as you told, Calua is a city of thugs and mercenaries, I am sure we can provide enough currency to... convince a group of mercenaries, as the Bannerlord did."

"I see," said Aural, "Let me see what I c-"

An explosion shattered the chapel windows and walls.

All turned black. All Urnyras Jael could barely hear, within the twisted corners of her consciousness, were three words spoken out by a man with a hissing voice:

"Take them away."

the tale of urnyras jael, part XVI: salty streets of Calua - part I.

"Speak, you dimwitted seadog!" said Alùn, while holding his dagger to the throat of an immensely intimidated mercenary pirate. "Speak, or your demise is at the edge of my dagger!"

"Take it easy," said Urnyras, while searching the corpses of dead pirates and interiors of the pirate tents.
"I will shpeak," said the apparently tipsy pirate, while trying to hold his bleeding nose. "I will shpeak, I shwear, don't kill me!"
"You better," said Alùn. He pushed the pirate more against the sewer wall and pressed the dagger closer to his throat. He punched the pirate relentlessly, right on his broken nose. The pirate screamed in agony.
"OKAY! Okay," said the pirate. "We were trying to establish a base to shpy on the giant-women's garrishon. The orders were right from above, the Bann-"
An arrow, from somewhere up above where they were standing, flew right towards the pirate's head and killed him. Alùn ducked instinctually, so did Urnyras Jael - they both looked above where they thought the arrow came from. They saw a slim, dark silhouette; shortly peering at them and then running up the passage where they thought he (or she) came from.

"After him!" said Urnyras Jael, running towards the hole up above - swiftly jumping and climbing over the dented wall. Alùn followed her up.
The entrance of the passage where the slim shady figure dived into was smaller than it looked, as Urnyras Jael entered, she realized she had to duck after a while. As they walked further, she realized it got more and more narrow and more suffocating. The walls were slippery - most possibly moldy too - and she tried not to touch the walls and simply walk straight, hoping to walk out of the passage. Alùn was panting behind Urnyras but not talking.
"Where did he go?" he asked.
"I don't see a thing," Urnyras Jael replied. "Ùr."
They followed the green light Urnyras conjured, and after a while they bumped into a dead end. Urnyras Jael spotted that there was a ladder climbing up, most possibly to a street within Calua.
"What time is it?" asked Urnyras.
"I have no idea," shrugged Alùn. "I assume we can't be sure unless we climb up."
Urnyras Jael peered up shortly, and started to climb with a subtle sigh.

...

"Who was that, by the grace of Gosto?" Urnyras whispered to Alùn, as they started to walk through one of the wide streets of Calua Market District, towards the Docks.
"Probably an overlooker assigned by the Bannerlord," Alùn replied, while hooding himself slowly. "The pirate was speaking about something - about the Bannerlord. A camp to spy on the Wundhian forces. These were mercenaries anyway - you pay them, they serve you. Someone pays more, they serve them. Goes like that. I'm sure the Bannerlord is using plenty of mercenaries. Denizens of Calua do not have such notion you call patriotism. They have plenty of pirates. Salty, smelly pirates. That's all they have. The Empire was here - administratively - but practically, that's a different story. We failed to serve our people here, thus they are not ours. They never were."
"They are Solian," Urnyras Jael said. "They just don't know it yet."
Alùn smirked dramatically.
"Well, then," he continued. "Let's go see that... clerk, at the Town Hall. I reckon it is somewhere here, if we are where I think we are."
"What if that assassin is watching us?" Urnyras Jael asked, when Alùn was looking around whether or not he was right about their current location and murmuring. "He knew we would use that ladder up to the city. What is he waited for us to get out from the sewers?"
"You're right," Alùn said, looking more sure about their whereabouts now. "If we head towards the Town Hall right away, it will be suspicious. We better misdirect first. Come."
They walked for a short while before Alùn turned into a narrow alley - Urnyras immediately followed him.
"Where are we going?" whispered Urnyras Jael to Alùn, while walking and occasionally checking her rear, the entrance of the alley.
"To where we are supposed to go," said Alùn, without looking back, peering around. "Just not from the shortcut."

...

After strolling around narrow streets and dirty alleys, avoiding a bunch of drunk pirates trying to engage in a brawl - they eventually made it to the Town Hall from a back street. They halted in front of a backyard entrance.
"Do you think they are observing the Town Hall?" asked Urnyras Jael.
"I do not think," shrugged Alùn. "I know. We have to be cautious. What disguise did you bring with you?"
"Disguise?" said Urnyras Jael, trying to look surprised but feeling a little incompetent for she did not even slightly think she might need a disguise. "Well, I have no disguise. In any case, I am a fylla, no clothing could would disguise my green hue. I have some illusion tricks though, and if I hood myself properly I doubt that would be a problem."
"We should sort out the stench, too," Alùn frowned while sniffing his robe.
Urnyras Jael focused on her body, closed her eyes and silently muttered a spell. A turquoise-purplish glow appeared all over her body, slowly turning her green skin color into a tanned color, her eyes into a glowing, attractive green. Her hair turned into brown and it wasn't straight anymore - she slowly touched her wavy hair reaching down her waist.
"Wow," said Alùn in surprise. "You are even, ahem, more attractive than you normally are."
"Oh, shut up," said Urnyras Jael, feeling a little embarrassed. "This is my incognito shape. I will use the name Claira Maesthe."
"Who is she?" asked Alùn.
"A hermit lady striding the lowlands of Syera," said Urnyras, wearing her hood and casting another lesser spell to change her dreadful smell into a soothing lavender scent. "I doubt the people in Calua have much interest in fyllian legends, so I'll be safe."

Alùn took off his robe. Urnyras then figured why he had that clinging armor sounds when he was moving in the sewers - he had the chest and leg armor piece and a tabard covering his chest of the Lyrant Knighthood - a knight of Dwese City.
Urnyras Jael couldn't help a smirk - Alùn could never realize if that was for she liked it, or she actually found his outfit funny.
"Ahem, okay," said Alùn. "Let's find that clerk, Aural."
They walked in the Town Hall.

the tale of urnyras jael, part XV: little, troubled people.

"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."

...

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."

2010.

I was searching for a word to define what this year has been for me. Whenever I think about it, I am really having a hard time to come up with one single word covering all months. Yet I suppose, the two most outstanding feelings I have felt during this year would be love and stress.

Let's see what I have been doing since the beginning of this year:

• The first moments of this year, I was studying Inheritance Law. At 00:00, we toasted Jack Daniel's. Then I went back to studying (I got an A- from IL, so it was worth it).
• January was rather dull, since the beginning was mostly about finals. After finals, I was in Izmit. No biggy.
• February was mostly about MUNTR 2010 preparations, we have visited the hotel and all. Adaptation to the new and the final semester of my LL.B. life.
• March 1 -5, MUNTR 2010. This was the first time I have seen my face dehydrating. Red dots. An average of 2 hours of sleep every day. Approximately 23 kilometers of walking in 5 days. Exhaustion, sickness. Fun anyway. At the end of March, Fotini called me to meet up in Istanbul.
• April, Fotini came back into my life as my girlfriend after our reunion on April 3, 2010. We consider April 5 to be our anniversary. Midterms.
• May. Final exams start and final days emerge in Bilkent. Fotini arrives in Ankara by the end of the month. One word: Stress. Interviews. Job applications. Blegh.
• June. Fotini was in Turkey and we spent most of our time in Ankara and Değirmendere. I get accepted into White & Case Ankara.
• July. "Flashlights Beneath the Dust", July 1-5. Fotini leaves on July 5th, 2010 for Paris. July 21, 2010: I leave for Sweden.
• August. Sweden until August 14. Probably my best trip abroad. Perfect month. On my way back, I immediately return to Ankara and pack up to move to another place closer to work in Aziziye, Çankaya. Fotini moves to Brussels to study in ULB.
• September, internship starts. Fotini visits me again for two weeks. Adaptation process, realizations of student life being over. Short-term depression, sense of solitude, plenty of stress. Official internship at the Courthouse starts on September 20, to last a full year.
• October. Nothing significant.
• November, Fotini visits me back. Probably the best month of the year along with August. My first visit to Brussels. Nonetheless the best 10 days of the year. Lots of Duvel and many many others. Now I have a home in Brussels.
• December... World of Warcraft: Cataclysm is released. I have learned that two of my best friends are leaving for Europe in January.
• Today is December 30, 2010. It has been a radical year.
• Ankara has proven me right again about how significant it is in my life, and how it will simply go on even if I leave it one day.

Fun times. Fun year.

shame.

I am full of shame. I really didn't want to pay much attention to the title.

I will tell you who I think I am. I consider myself to be a strong person who managed to tackle many, many past dealings in my life; sharp cuts, rip offs, death, solitude, selfishness and devilry in almost any period of my life. However, I suppose these facts are the most outstanding realities of life. Things pretty much anyone can come across with at any time of their lives. What makes me strong, or at least what makes me consider myself strong does not reason from the things I have seen, but the perception I managed to stabilize against these things.

I will shortly tell you how I managed to get over things so far.

Beyond anything, I am a perfect avoider. As lame as it sounds, I am a master of avoidance. I suppose this is a genial heritage from my beloved mother, who is a perfect artist of trouble-pruning; at least on the surface. She has many masks that she can cover her sorrow, despair and anger, and she can act very well that things are actually fine.

I moved it a step further. As dramatic as I used to be a couple of years ago, I have always lived according to one code: neutrality and moderation. Whatever I have encountered, my biggest pride was to be able to nullify the disadvantages of a disastrous situation and diminish it to its advantages and utilize from them. Every deal in my life, every incident I have lived eventually turns out to be experiences. I distill events into abstract experiences waiting to be formalized in future events of the same type.

Troubles have been always welcomed by me, because many of them failed to wound me deeply - but supplied me great deals of experience and 'lessons of life'. I rarely repeated my mistakes and my immunity system was rarely breached by a similar future incident.

Let me examplify:

I failed the freshman year of Law School. 2006 summer was quite apocalyptic for me and my family for that reason; however I somehow managed to get things back together despite all the despair I've experienced and I've had my family to experience. The next four years in College were almost flawless, with no failed lessons and a much much more higher cumulative average than I would have achieved if I actually passed my first freshman year. In conclusion, my failure turned out to be an advantage, and my trouble was eventually my happiness and justification of a better success.

It has always been this way. Being encouraged by my former failures, I eventually learned not to let my guard down against unfortunate incidents and I have built up a solid immunity system to protect me from what troubled me; for I knew that any failure would eventually turn out to be of my advantage. I have never lost my cool, my resolve and my reasoning; even momentarily. Never.

Though, now I realize that, most of those events were lacking some certain ingredient: enough emotions. I am in a specific situation that I am dealing with for the past months. It has been a period when I have felt immense lust, an unexplainably big love and a devout sense of commitment. When these feelings direct towards one single object, you realize that reasoning can be easily overwhelmed, and the real challenge is to be able to handle situations of such.

Unfortunately, I have recently learned what it means to momentarily lose control. I have never lost control, and I have always considered it to be a lousy weakness. Recklessness was a sin for me, so was the sense of vengeance, the sense of hatred. I have never really hated anything.

Imagine these feelings in a scheme:

It's a simple equation, actually. You feel love towards something. It leads to intensity, and intensity leads to jealousy and to an awkward sense of vengeance with the interference of third parties. Jealousy, if you actually are not proud of being jealous, leads to regret; but nonetheless it leads to recklessness. Recklessness, along with intensity, boosts your sense of vengeance and more vengeance leads to more recklessness - eventually leading to regret. All in all, from an emotional perspective, the direct connection between you to that 'something' in terms of love, intensity and jealousy have these inner connections. Love, intensity and jealousy being one side of the medallion - it only hints you how the other side of the medallion is.

This equation applies to the entire process of many people. In my case, it erupts in certain moments, in a temporary nature. It works like a clock - one pumps another, and starts a domino effect.

It eventually soothes down, but this scheme above is a single-sided scheme. As you can see, it only directs towards the object; however there are other things that might direct from the object to you. Let's illustrate it as follows:

Assuming that the scheme no. 1 doesn't apply to the object in terms of you and that love is mutual, we will have a situation that where the love that the object has towards you leads to patience against your reactions. After a while, patience will lead to empathy, and the object will crave to justify your acts to avoid devastation. Eventually, in case of empathical justification, empathy will lead to tolerance; but the consistency of recklessness might eventually turn into a tiredness and tiredness might turn into a massive annoyance. There, we will have a paradox. Love will continuously pump patience and empathy, whereas your actions will simply drain the tolerance caused by your empathy; so eventually the case will cause both empathy and annoyance being reflected to you - both finding their origins in love. Empathy directs towards something you value, so does annoyance - but their clash will only transmute into ultimate 'fed-up' situation which will tire the object, and you yourself.

I have a curse. I have this stupid urge to make an analytical explanation to everything, including emotions. I have this urge to 'calculate' emotions and I am being strictly criticized because of that. However, I can actually calculate and foresee the reactions of my emotions and I have never had the claim of making an objective, all-applicable calculation for the idea of emotions.

I only talk on my behalf.

These two schemes above are, as natural they are, shameful for me. The intensity makes my head spin and makes me fail.

This is the source of my shame.

However, I'm working on it. I am not an idiot, and I have my own methods dealing with incidents. I forgot to mention - intensity has a direct proportion with your enthusiasm, and my enthusiasm is infinite.

One day, I will stop this equation, rip off these schemes and stare at the clear skyline above from a roof window.

Until then, I will be in my mental laboratory, trying to find a cure for this shame.

This is, all in all, the only shame I've got.

the tale of urnyras jael, part XIV: to orbh city.

"YOU WILL DIE!" screamed Eoria, dashing towards Urnyras Jael while she's lying on the ground. "DIE, SCUM!"

She attempted to hit Urnyras Jael with her blade. Urnyras Jael could merely block the attack before tumbling to her side, breathing heavily. She regained her control and dashed forward, like an agitated panther - counter-attacking without losing time.

Eoria blocked her in the air, jumping backwards and sending her a force blast using Ùrda; Urnyras blocked the blast with her blade but she lost her balance. She was having a hard time hitting Eoria, somehow fearing hurting her. Eoria, however; did not look compassionate, at all.

"SCUM!" she roared again, throwing one of her shortswords to Urnyras. Urnyras started to run towards Eoria and blocking the shortsword moving with a clear expertise, jumping and tumbling towards her and sending her a force blast back. Eoria, caught off-guard, got hit by the blast and flew a few feet back, to hit the wall and fall on the ground. She started to breathe heavily, peering at Urnyras with hatred and purring low.

"You are an illusion," Urnyras Jael said. "Thus I will slay you."

She did not hesitate cutting Eoria's head with a single blow.

...

"It happened again," Urnyras Jael said. "I killed Eoria."

"Still, that was impressive," said Fauran, when Urnyras Jael gathered her consciousness back. "It is... strange that whenever we initiate these anti mind-control practices, your mind picks Eoria as the hardest opponent. You value her. Your most common opponent is always the hardest to kill. Your mind likes challenge."

"I do value her, Master," she nodded. "I fear that one day we might actually encounter in a battle against each other. I fear that I will be too weak to fight her."

"Disciples do not turn against each other easily," Fauran shook his head. "But, no matter what, your training includes to be able to slay the most loved ones when necessary. Hesitation is our biggest enemy, and your loyalty is primarily to the power you wield. You have to remember that."

...

Weeks flew by faster than they thought. After six months of continuous training, all four apprentices of Master Fauran could actually feel the power coursing within their veins and soul, filling every single side of their body; pumping courage, wisdom and force. Eoria, on the other hand, was still as cold as she always was to Gea and Shevach, however it wasn't as bad with Urnyras anymore. Urnyras could swear that she has seen Eoria slightly smiling once, even.

Weirdly enough, there were many times that Urnyras found herself unconsciously trying to make her smile. Everytime she sensed a glimpse of joy in Eoria, she felt it double.

Still, she didn't have much time to focus on her.

...

"Your yearly trials are yet to come," announced Fauran, one morning; when the Disciples were eating at the Halls of Gathering. "You will split in two groups and you will be given an assignment out of the Temple. You are expected to complete your given assignments in the specified time."

"Out of the Temple? Where, Master?" asked Shevach.

"Patience," replied Fauran. "After the Ùrda practice today, you will be given your briefing and your team members."

Shevach nodded. The others didn't react. Fauran left the girls alone with fast steps, out of the Halls.

"Trials," mumbled Urnyras. "I can't believe it has been six months since we came here."

"Well, we were too busy and tired to realize how time flew by," said Eoria.

"That's right, but still - do you feel ready for the Trials yet? I feel like... I don't know anything," said Gea. "I am not sure if I can-"

"Hesitation is our worst enemy, Gea," said Urnyras with an absolute and explicit self-esteem. "If you hesitate your soul, you can't do it anyway. I can handle anything to come. Remember the code, hesitation, temptation, excitem-"

"Oh, come on now," sighed Eoria. "We have one Fauran, we don't need a smaller female version. Let go."

Urnyras raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply.

"How was the mind-control practice?" asked Shevach to others.

"Smooth," said Gea. "I killed my father with no hesitation. It sort of felt... good, you know. I love my father, but it felt like I released a weakness, some unnecessary bond that was enslaving me, oh, I like these practices."

"It was pretty smooth for me too," said Shevach proudly. "I killed my uncle. I still hope I won't have to actually do that ever in my life."

"You?" said Gea rapidly, turning towards Urnyras. Urnyras literally jumped.

"Ha? What?" she could say.

"Mind-control practice. How was it?" Gea asked.

"Ah, good," Urnyras replied, chewing her meal. "I killed my.. um, mother."

Eoria smiled.

"What?" Urnyras turned towards Eoria, somehow nervous.

"Nothing," Eoria replied, shrugging.

"What about yours?" asked Urnyras, challengingly.

"I killed my father," she replied straightforwardly.

Urnyras somehow felt a disappointment deep inside.

Still, she found the fact that she actually wished Eoria to kill her instead of her father a bit awkward.

Eoria smiled.

...

"Why did you lie?" asked Eoria to Urnyras Jael, shortly before the Ùrda training, when they were alone.

"Lie? Why would I lie?" said Urnyras. Her heart started to beat faster with panic and anxiety. "I didn't lie, no."

"Hmm, so why are you in panic all of a sudden, and in a repetitive denial?"

"I'm not-"

"I know who you killed. I am aware of everything," Eoria said.

"But-"

"I know it, because I killed you, not my father."

"You killed me?"

"Yes. You."

Urnyras felt joyful. Most possibly, if she wasn't a fylla but an eila; she'd dance around the Temple, singing.

"So-"

"If you are ready, we shall commence our Ùrda training," Fauran's voice echoed the training grounds. "It will be relatively short today, since you will get your briefings and given half a day to finalize your preparations for departure."

...

Ùrda training lasted only four hours, and Fauran ordered the Disciples to gather at the Halls of Gathering in half an hour before leaving. Shortly before the sunset, the Disciples gathered around Fauran. He was holding four green envelopes.

"Tomorrow, before the noon, you will leave the Temple towards your destinations specified in these letters. You will not open them now, and you will not be told who your companions are. Each of you will leave the Temple seperately towards your directions. Your first objective, aside the ones written in your letters, is to find your companion within the zones specified. You are expected to track and spot your companion. You may have multiple companions, or you might simply be altogether, everything is possible, actually. The routes you will follow are given in your letters. If any of you dare to speak of their routes and/or their destinations, they will be banned from the Temple immediately and deported back to N'ya. So keep your mouths shut."

Urnyras lifted her head and looked at Eoria, only to notice that she was looking back at her; most possibly hoping for the same thing: companionship of one another.

...

Urnyras found a silent, remote corner in the Temple Gardens and ripped open her letter:

Destination: Axed Keg Tavern, Delhraìr, Orbh City

Route: N'ya - Forest of Orbh - Orbh City

Expected Duration of Travel: One Week

Quest: A suspicious activity in this Tavern has been reported.

Disciple is expected to arrive there as soon as possible, after finding her companion(s) in Orbh City, who will be sent there for another task. These tasks will be finished one after another. Initiative will belong to the Disciples' common decision.

We have limited information on this 'suspicious activity', and reports only specify several rituals taking place. We suspect a cultist activity.

Disciple will figure out the actual happening and deliver a detailed report to the Intelligence Corps.

This message shall be annihilated by the authorized officials.

Quest Duration: Two Weeks

She slowly folded the briefing letter.

"Orbh City?" she asked loudly. "Wow, that's..."

"Do not, please, shout your destination once again," said an expressionless voice. "If I was one of the Disciples, you would be on your way home now."

Urnyras blenched, quickly turning back to look who talked. It took a brief moment for her to realize it was Fauran.

"Master," she trembled. "I'm sorry."

He made a dismissive gesture.

"Go get ready, girl," he said. "Yours is a risky, dangerous, yet an adventurous journey."

She slowly bowed her head, and left for her room to get ready.