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Leaving Home

Posted: Thu Jun 22, 2017 1:52 pm
by Rebecca
The cliffs of Noore were very white at dawn. Wind always hummed across the Hearthcombs.

Uukumanu sat at the threshold of the family cave, frowning. Once again she had had little sleep. For the past few moons the Dreaming had echoed with a dull spiritual pain that dug its way into her temples and kept her up at night, turning her head eastwards. She rubbed her eyes, and a voice came from behind her, making her jump.

“What are you doing up at this hour, young one?”

Father Ceram took in her haggard appearance and eased himself down beside her. “You are still troubled?”

“Something is afoot in the Heartlands. The spirits murmur endlessly, though no distinct words as yet. Those that hunger for blood circle it. The crying from that place is loud… Whatever is happening in the Heartlands, I need to see.”

They sat for a while in silence, taking in the morning air.

“Then you should go.”

Uukumanu looked up at the father. “Yes. I would rather not go alone, but I will if I must.”

“Your brothers will go with you if you ask.”

They sat quiet a little while longer.

He got up. “You should prepare yourself. I must go, there is work for me to do in the orchards.”

As he went, Uukumanu closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the risen sun through her eyelids for a few minutes longer.

Re: Leaving Home

Posted: Fri Jul 14, 2017 10:48 am
by Peter Levy
"It used to be sunlight we dreaded; the fire, the chaos. These times bring something else... Something darker. Something wicked dwells atop Mount Heart. Its shadows roll down and corrupt the minds of the good-hearted. I do not know if this shadow is responsible for the bloodshed I feel you sense, but I do know that shadows have crept into people's minds."

Marmenputa couldn't help overhearing as he passed. He, too sensed something. He felt an anger without a provocation.

"It used to be our enemy would fight with weapons. They were defeated with weapons. The new enemies will fight with words. Words are harder to resist. But words become actions, and violent action begets violent retribution. Someone has committed evil, spillt the blood of the innocent. They demonstrate no care for the gift of blood. They have abandoned Hope, and soon their lifeblood shall abandon them."

There is a sort of resignation to his words; a task to fulfill, not to be savoured.

"I have seen letters from the Humans of Sinya Palurin. The place in need is named 'Outpost Thirteen'. Shall we travel?"