This isn't a regular story installment, no, this blog is to let anyone who cares know about the best $6 I ever spent! I comissioned an artist on DA to draw me a sketch of Shoda and Laok fighting and the result has got me bouncing off the walls in excitement. Here is the sketch, I plan on coloring it up in the near future :)
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v442/WICKED_ZOEYGIRL/ZG-_Sketch.jpg
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
A Gift of Self
(( for an added experience, you might want to listen to 'Voodoo' by Godsmack while reading this ))
The beat of the drums and the flicker of the bonfire off the faces clustered around all conspired to give the small village an air of mystery and allure
Shoda stepped into the firelight, her face impassive. She was dressed sparsely, sporting only a loincloth to cover her nether regions. All her other adornments were ceremonial. Around her neck she wore her age-tabard, with twenty rows of beads to represent the number of years she had lived. On her arms was a pair of cuffs plated in gold and inscribed with the sacred symbols for Self and set with red stones. ON her head was a headband adorned with the skull of the red-winged blackbird along with beads and feathers.
She stepped forward again, fully entering the firelight, her feet standing firm on the hard packed earth. The assemblage quieted as she stared around her. There was Roburt, sitting cross-legged on a platform erected just for him, next to the aged shaman was her brother, looking excited and just a little jealous. To her right sat the train from Kish, the curious yellow-skinned Jothani named Aoris, his head still bandaged where Shoda had been unable to fully heal his wounds. He smiled at her, and she blushed.
Someone started up with a drum and she closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of the beat as a larger, bass-type drum joined in. She leaned back slowly, letting the rhythm throb through her, electrifying all of her senses. One step forward, two to the side, lean forward, tap your toes on the ground, listen. A tinkling from the direction of the platform told her Laok had joined in with his tambourine. She hopped in a circle in time with her brother’s music, letting him lead her, he in turn being led by the drummers. It was an amazing feeling, letting her be led by the music of her village, bowing below their wisdom, serving them and them serving her in return.
When someone started in on a small, piping flute she leapt into the air, spinning her legs around and cavorted in the firelight. The flute trilled and danced and she danced in return, stepping lightly, leaping with grace, falling hard to the beat of the drums that coursed through her.
She paused, lifted her head, and took a moment to watch the sparks from the fire spiraling upward among the trees to fade away as they danced with the stars. She opened her mouth and started to sing, high, yelling, soulful. She stamped her feet and came down, skipped around the bonfire and followed the music again. Rising when it did, and falling when it failed. She kept her eyes to the bonfire, feeling its primal heat lick against her cool green skin. Breathing in, she finally understood. She opened her soul to her village, took her Self and gave it to them.
She started to glow, with a soft white light. Tendrils of her Self licked at the ends of her fingers, played at the ends of her toes. As she leapt and cavorted she left shining tracks of her passage hanging, quivering in the night air. She could feel it. She felt her Self leaving her, felt the rest of the villagers taking it in, taking her for their own. It was exhausting, but wonderful, it felt like sex and she luxuriated in it. Loving every moment of giving herself to those she would be serving.
Finally the rest of the villagers began to sing. She could pick out her brother’s strong tenor, could hear Roburt’s shaking baritone all intertwined with voices she had grown to know and love, and even voices she didn’t recognize. The travelers from Kish must be singing too.
She spun to a stop and slowly opened her eyes. She had landed before the yellow-skinned Jothani from Kish, Aoris. His face was flushed and sweaty, his eyes shining. She smiled again as he applauded. The rest of the village soon followed and she straightened up and walked to the platform to kneel before Roburt.
“That was well done daughter! Well done indeed!”
She found she couldn’t reply, she was panting and spent, but he seemed to understand. He rested a hand on her head as Laok struck up another tattoo on the tambourine. She felt coming back to her a little of what she had given out, not all of it, no. She would never get that back, but it was given freely and she would never ask for it back. But this tiny bit was enough for now, enough that she could stand again, and face the village, her village now, and join in the festivities.
The beat of the drums and the flicker of the bonfire off the faces clustered around all conspired to give the small village an air of mystery and allure
Shoda stepped into the firelight, her face impassive. She was dressed sparsely, sporting only a loincloth to cover her nether regions. All her other adornments were ceremonial. Around her neck she wore her age-tabard, with twenty rows of beads to represent the number of years she had lived. On her arms was a pair of cuffs plated in gold and inscribed with the sacred symbols for Self and set with red stones. ON her head was a headband adorned with the skull of the red-winged blackbird along with beads and feathers.
She stepped forward again, fully entering the firelight, her feet standing firm on the hard packed earth. The assemblage quieted as she stared around her. There was Roburt, sitting cross-legged on a platform erected just for him, next to the aged shaman was her brother, looking excited and just a little jealous. To her right sat the train from Kish, the curious yellow-skinned Jothani named Aoris, his head still bandaged where Shoda had been unable to fully heal his wounds. He smiled at her, and she blushed.
Someone started up with a drum and she closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of the beat as a larger, bass-type drum joined in. She leaned back slowly, letting the rhythm throb through her, electrifying all of her senses. One step forward, two to the side, lean forward, tap your toes on the ground, listen. A tinkling from the direction of the platform told her Laok had joined in with his tambourine. She hopped in a circle in time with her brother’s music, letting him lead her, he in turn being led by the drummers. It was an amazing feeling, letting her be led by the music of her village, bowing below their wisdom, serving them and them serving her in return.
When someone started in on a small, piping flute she leapt into the air, spinning her legs around and cavorted in the firelight. The flute trilled and danced and she danced in return, stepping lightly, leaping with grace, falling hard to the beat of the drums that coursed through her.
She paused, lifted her head, and took a moment to watch the sparks from the fire spiraling upward among the trees to fade away as they danced with the stars. She opened her mouth and started to sing, high, yelling, soulful. She stamped her feet and came down, skipped around the bonfire and followed the music again. Rising when it did, and falling when it failed. She kept her eyes to the bonfire, feeling its primal heat lick against her cool green skin. Breathing in, she finally understood. She opened her soul to her village, took her Self and gave it to them.
She started to glow, with a soft white light. Tendrils of her Self licked at the ends of her fingers, played at the ends of her toes. As she leapt and cavorted she left shining tracks of her passage hanging, quivering in the night air. She could feel it. She felt her Self leaving her, felt the rest of the villagers taking it in, taking her for their own. It was exhausting, but wonderful, it felt like sex and she luxuriated in it. Loving every moment of giving herself to those she would be serving.
Finally the rest of the villagers began to sing. She could pick out her brother’s strong tenor, could hear Roburt’s shaking baritone all intertwined with voices she had grown to know and love, and even voices she didn’t recognize. The travelers from Kish must be singing too.
She spun to a stop and slowly opened her eyes. She had landed before the yellow-skinned Jothani from Kish, Aoris. His face was flushed and sweaty, his eyes shining. She smiled again as he applauded. The rest of the village soon followed and she straightened up and walked to the platform to kneel before Roburt.
“That was well done daughter! Well done indeed!”
She found she couldn’t reply, she was panting and spent, but he seemed to understand. He rested a hand on her head as Laok struck up another tattoo on the tambourine. She felt coming back to her a little of what she had given out, not all of it, no. She would never get that back, but it was given freely and she would never ask for it back. But this tiny bit was enough for now, enough that she could stand again, and face the village, her village now, and join in the festivities.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Let's start this again
“Unnh…” Shoda groaned as she shifted herself in the hammock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. It was hot, hotter than it had been all summer, and this summer was hotter than any she could ever remember. The rest of the village felt it too. Roburt said it was a good sign; that the world was returning to the way it had been before the Great War over one thousand years ago.
But none of these thoughts helped Shoda feel any cooler. To make matters worse, not only was it hot, but the miles upon miles of swamp outside her door made it muggy too. So Shoda lay in her softly swinging hammock, trying her best not to touch herself or anything else, and praying for a breeze.
“Laok, are you awake?” She whispered into the darkness.
“Am now,” groaned her brother from the other side of the stifling hut, “And thanks a lot too, I’d only just gotten to sleep.” He added grumpily before shifting himself into a more comfortable position.
“Oh… sorry,” Shoda mumbled, but she needn’t have bothered. The soft snores emanating from the far side of the hut made it clear that Laok did not have the same trouble falling asleep that she did.
She sighed again and screwed her eyes shut, determined to ignore the sweat pouring off her brow and force herself to sleep. She was only partially successful. She fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning, waking frequently then dropping off again. It was the farthest thing from restful that could be had, so when she woke up in the morning to find a fish dancing on her chest she was significantly less than amused.
The tiny, yellow river fish jerked to and fro, its useless gills straining as it suffocated. Shoda grabbed the fish and tumbled out of her hammock. She was out the door and down the ramp, into the swampy water faster than it took to cough three times. Carefully, she dipped the tiny fish into the slowly moving water, her own lungs burning in sympathy.
The fish didn’t swim away; it just lay there, bobbing on her fingertips, twitching feebly. She cringed as she realized what she was going to have to do. If her lungs seemed to burn now it was nothing compared with how they were about to feel. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She concentrated her entire being on the limp fish that bobbed at the ends of her fingertips and slowly, painfully slowly she felt bits of herself seeping away from her. Conversely, the fish’s twitching became stronger, its thrashes held more purpose until, with a final flick of its tail it sped off Shoda’s fingertips and disappeared into the murky water.
She opened her eyes again and turned around. There in the doorway stood her brother, arms crossed with a smug grin plastered across his face. “Ye liked ye little wake-up dance eh sis?”
“I’m going to kill you Laok!” and Shoda raced up the ramp and flung herself through the door, tackling Laok to the ground. “How DARE you twist one of those fish! You were torturing it couldn’t you see?” Every other word or so was punctuated by a slap.
Laok grunted and swung his weight around until he had his older sister well and truly pinned. During the last year he had finally gotten his growth spurt and was using the advantage of his added inches to full effect. “Oy Shoda! It’s just a fish. I don’t see why you’re getting all up in arms about it! Besides, Roburt told us to practice.”
Shoda squirmed in Laok’s viselike grip, unwilling to give up, “You should be practicing by healing small hurts like normal people, not torturing small animals!”
“Psh, you know I’m no good at that namby-pamby healing junk.”
“That ‘namby-pamby healing junk’, as you call it, is one of the most powerful forces known to Human and Jothani-kind alike!”
Laok just rolled his eyes and snorted as he levered himself up off of Shoda.
His sister, however, wasn’t finished, “No, listen to me Laok! Roburt said he hadn’t seen talents like ours in his whole life!”
Laok rounded on her, his lavender eyes blazing, “Roburt’s lived in a tiny village in a backwater swamp, what the crack does he kn-“
“He was court leech to the Carolin crown! Roburt said so!”
“Roburt said so, Roburt said so.” Laok glared, his tone dangerous, “You know what your problem is Shoda? You’re too ready to believe anything that old man says. I say we find a good Jothani teacher and leave the humans to themselves.”
“You are the absolute worst!” and without another word Shoda turned on her heel and stormed out of the small hut she and her brother called home.
The tepid water of the swamp sloshed around her calves as her toes sank into the muck of the swollen river-bed up to her knuckles. But that was why Jothani did so well in the swamp. They didn’t need any kind of special shoes to stay above ground in this muck. Their large, splay-toed feet did just fine.
But none of these thoughts helped Shoda feel any cooler. To make matters worse, not only was it hot, but the miles upon miles of swamp outside her door made it muggy too. So Shoda lay in her softly swinging hammock, trying her best not to touch herself or anything else, and praying for a breeze.
“Laok, are you awake?” She whispered into the darkness.
“Am now,” groaned her brother from the other side of the stifling hut, “And thanks a lot too, I’d only just gotten to sleep.” He added grumpily before shifting himself into a more comfortable position.
“Oh… sorry,” Shoda mumbled, but she needn’t have bothered. The soft snores emanating from the far side of the hut made it clear that Laok did not have the same trouble falling asleep that she did.
She sighed again and screwed her eyes shut, determined to ignore the sweat pouring off her brow and force herself to sleep. She was only partially successful. She fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning, waking frequently then dropping off again. It was the farthest thing from restful that could be had, so when she woke up in the morning to find a fish dancing on her chest she was significantly less than amused.
The tiny, yellow river fish jerked to and fro, its useless gills straining as it suffocated. Shoda grabbed the fish and tumbled out of her hammock. She was out the door and down the ramp, into the swampy water faster than it took to cough three times. Carefully, she dipped the tiny fish into the slowly moving water, her own lungs burning in sympathy.
The fish didn’t swim away; it just lay there, bobbing on her fingertips, twitching feebly. She cringed as she realized what she was going to have to do. If her lungs seemed to burn now it was nothing compared with how they were about to feel. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She concentrated her entire being on the limp fish that bobbed at the ends of her fingertips and slowly, painfully slowly she felt bits of herself seeping away from her. Conversely, the fish’s twitching became stronger, its thrashes held more purpose until, with a final flick of its tail it sped off Shoda’s fingertips and disappeared into the murky water.
She opened her eyes again and turned around. There in the doorway stood her brother, arms crossed with a smug grin plastered across his face. “Ye liked ye little wake-up dance eh sis?”
“I’m going to kill you Laok!” and Shoda raced up the ramp and flung herself through the door, tackling Laok to the ground. “How DARE you twist one of those fish! You were torturing it couldn’t you see?” Every other word or so was punctuated by a slap.
Laok grunted and swung his weight around until he had his older sister well and truly pinned. During the last year he had finally gotten his growth spurt and was using the advantage of his added inches to full effect. “Oy Shoda! It’s just a fish. I don’t see why you’re getting all up in arms about it! Besides, Roburt told us to practice.”
Shoda squirmed in Laok’s viselike grip, unwilling to give up, “You should be practicing by healing small hurts like normal people, not torturing small animals!”
“Psh, you know I’m no good at that namby-pamby healing junk.”
“That ‘namby-pamby healing junk’, as you call it, is one of the most powerful forces known to Human and Jothani-kind alike!”
Laok just rolled his eyes and snorted as he levered himself up off of Shoda.
His sister, however, wasn’t finished, “No, listen to me Laok! Roburt said he hadn’t seen talents like ours in his whole life!”
Laok rounded on her, his lavender eyes blazing, “Roburt’s lived in a tiny village in a backwater swamp, what the crack does he kn-“
“He was court leech to the Carolin crown! Roburt said so!”
“Roburt said so, Roburt said so.” Laok glared, his tone dangerous, “You know what your problem is Shoda? You’re too ready to believe anything that old man says. I say we find a good Jothani teacher and leave the humans to themselves.”
“You are the absolute worst!” and without another word Shoda turned on her heel and stormed out of the small hut she and her brother called home.
The tepid water of the swamp sloshed around her calves as her toes sank into the muck of the swollen river-bed up to her knuckles. But that was why Jothani did so well in the swamp. They didn’t need any kind of special shoes to stay above ground in this muck. Their large, splay-toed feet did just fine.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Virgil sees Shoda
His first glance of her was as she was drug into the castle, quite publicly, and through the front gates. She was bloody and purple with bruising through her olive-toned skin, but all he could do was stare into her vivid orange eyes and become lost in the amount of will he found there, her fierce determination and undying spirit to fight.
Her left arm was in a tourniquet just above the elbow, the bloody stump weeping fitfully, but she didn’t seem to notice. She fought her captors like a caged animal as, indeed, his older brother, the King of Carolin, would have everyone believe she was. Her claws made the most horrendous squealing on the stones of the courtyard as the burly guards dragged her forward. Her eyes stared around in ager, daring anyone to stare her way. Well Virgil dared, and when her eyes met his he was frozen in place, a chill going down his spine, and an electricity jarring a part of his brain awake. She was what he had been missing in his life, that fierce determination, that lust for life, he’d been lost in a sea of apathy and he hadn’t even realized it until that one electrifying moment when her eyes had met his.
Finally one of the guards had the sense to club her over the back of the head and she dropped like a stone, hanging limp from the grasps of the guards who now struggled briefly to hold her up. He hadn’t realized how big she was either; she must be easily six and a half feet tall! The off=duty guards were saying that her brother was even larger, and muscled well at that. But they had put his eye out after they had drugged him, otherwise, Virgil guessed, the tall Jothani would have been next to impossible to control, as it was he was ensconced safely in his cell and only his sister needed to be deposited.
Suddenly a thought struck Virgil like a thunderbolt and the prince held up his hand and yelled, “Stop!” He performed that familiar twist in his mind and blinked his eyes. “Holy!” He staggered back a pace, two. The girl was GLOWING. Even unconscious she was radiant with ability. The white halo that surrounded her told him not only was she a Self user, but she had the most astonishingly strong Self ability he had ever seen.
“Place them in separate cells, she uses Self.” The guards looked shocked, one of them even dropped the girl’s arm and her weight dragged the other guard to the ground. With a mumbled apology he picked his burden back up and the two resumed dragging her limp and unconscious body back into the castle.
A Self user, he would have to go down to the dungeons and read her brother too, such things tended to run in families and if they both could heal, well the two unfortunate Jothani might find themselves a stay of execution after all. The army always needed healers and Virgil knew his brother wouldn’t hesitate to use them to their fullest potential.
However, as the prince followed the guards down into the dungeons he couldn’t help but experience a twinge of regret. Regret at what he had condemned this poor girl to, this girl who had such a fierce and penetrating gaze.
Her left arm was in a tourniquet just above the elbow, the bloody stump weeping fitfully, but she didn’t seem to notice. She fought her captors like a caged animal as, indeed, his older brother, the King of Carolin, would have everyone believe she was. Her claws made the most horrendous squealing on the stones of the courtyard as the burly guards dragged her forward. Her eyes stared around in ager, daring anyone to stare her way. Well Virgil dared, and when her eyes met his he was frozen in place, a chill going down his spine, and an electricity jarring a part of his brain awake. She was what he had been missing in his life, that fierce determination, that lust for life, he’d been lost in a sea of apathy and he hadn’t even realized it until that one electrifying moment when her eyes had met his.
Finally one of the guards had the sense to club her over the back of the head and she dropped like a stone, hanging limp from the grasps of the guards who now struggled briefly to hold her up. He hadn’t realized how big she was either; she must be easily six and a half feet tall! The off=duty guards were saying that her brother was even larger, and muscled well at that. But they had put his eye out after they had drugged him, otherwise, Virgil guessed, the tall Jothani would have been next to impossible to control, as it was he was ensconced safely in his cell and only his sister needed to be deposited.
Suddenly a thought struck Virgil like a thunderbolt and the prince held up his hand and yelled, “Stop!” He performed that familiar twist in his mind and blinked his eyes. “Holy!” He staggered back a pace, two. The girl was GLOWING. Even unconscious she was radiant with ability. The white halo that surrounded her told him not only was she a Self user, but she had the most astonishingly strong Self ability he had ever seen.
“Place them in separate cells, she uses Self.” The guards looked shocked, one of them even dropped the girl’s arm and her weight dragged the other guard to the ground. With a mumbled apology he picked his burden back up and the two resumed dragging her limp and unconscious body back into the castle.
A Self user, he would have to go down to the dungeons and read her brother too, such things tended to run in families and if they both could heal, well the two unfortunate Jothani might find themselves a stay of execution after all. The army always needed healers and Virgil knew his brother wouldn’t hesitate to use them to their fullest potential.
However, as the prince followed the guards down into the dungeons he couldn’t help but experience a twinge of regret. Regret at what he had condemned this poor girl to, this girl who had such a fierce and penetrating gaze.
Bar scene setting
Virgil held the door open for a second longer as Shoda stepped in. She was swathed head to toe in a charcoal grey robe to protect her from the prying eyes in Carolin City. This bar, howerver, was at the end of a long and dark alley and the barkeep and patrons didn't give a shake if she was human, Jothani, or other. As the pair stepped in and allowed the door to close behind them they were enveloped in the familiar and oddly comforting coccoon of bar smells. Beer, sweat, and a hint of stale urine warred for dominance but they paid it no heed, instead taking a table in an out of the way corner, lit fitfully by smoking tallow dips.
(( Setup for a bar scene, I think we're still in Carolin City ))
(( Setup for a bar scene, I think we're still in Carolin City ))
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