Zion: Light of the New Moon, Ch 3.2 Myrh
Zion - Light of the New Moon Chapter 3.2
Myrh The Herp Derp
The contributing readers have all decided: this post will include a short focus on each of the pairings and give a little insight into all of the discussions.
"Argh!" Artemisia grated as she pushed her way out of the tent. Despite her interest in confronting the mouse over her stupidity the dragoness could not stand to be in the same area as Yearl Rakken... not after her foolish display of... she paused as she considered it. What was it that was displayed? She knew that the sentiments were not her own; something in the mouse had transferred to her... something alien, with a familiar tint of humanity that the dragoness had thought she she had lost long ago. The familiarity of it made her even more uncomfortable.
She stalked through camp as the event replayed in her mind. Yearl had sought her out after the battle and, as he drew close to talk, she pressed her muzzle to his. From that point, she didn't know how much was her experience and how much was a memory that played through her mind. She remembered that she found his furred muzzle accommodating, eager. His lips had been cold, unresponsive to her advances. He pulled her small frame to him and she felt her heart increase in rapid beat until she thought it would explode. He had pushed her away in surprise.
The lion's paws had caressed her with need and she felt his excitement clearly through his pants; his hips pressed against hers and she felt weak in the knees as he began to undo her bodice. The lion's muzzle had pulled back from her in shock, confusion written clearly all over his face as he regarded her, half with alarm and half with disbelief. Artemisia pulled her talons to either side of her head, unable to remember what had just happened because of the unbidden presence in her head forcing the replaying of other memories instead. She sat down on a felled log just outside of camp.
"I would ask if you're alright..." the cowled figure took a seat beside her, "but I think I already know the answer."
"I don't want to talk about it." Artemisia growled, interest in an end to the conversation evident in her voice.
"I didn't know you were attracted to him." he added casually.
"I didn't know your attraction to life was so fleeting." she responded.
"It's called Memory Transference." he pointed out, the non-sequitor coming out of nowhere.
"What?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"I learned about it from a Myrhean Priestess." the cowled figure noted, not bothering to look back at her, "Memories are taken along with life-force."
"And you know about this first hand?" the dragoness questioned.
"No." he shook his head, "I would rather not talk about the situation leading to the conversation, but I thought you would like to know that what you're going through isn't as abnormal as you may think."
"I'd rather know when it will end," she admitted, "and if this is going to be a problem with everyone I see... am I affected by some kind of aphrodisiac?"
"It isn't an aphrodisiac, otherwise you would probably be trying to do the same thing to me." he responded.
"Small favors." she stated, then asked more directly, "When will it end?"
"A day... a week.... when one of you dies?" the leopard-wolf shrugged, "It's hard to say."
"So I have to be worried about spontaneously doing something stupid?" questioned the dragoness.
The assassin shrugged in response, "Not everyone would consider a kiss to be stupid."
"You're patronizing me now." Artemisia's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"No, you will not go around kissing everyone." he clarified, "It's obvious that whomever's memories were joined with yours has some very strong feelings for Yearl Rakken, or at least someone who looks enough like him that it caused you to react."
"Is that so?" the dragoness glanced across camp back toward the healer's tent.
* * * * * *
"...and that's when I realized what I had to do." I explained, "If Artemisia hadn't killed the bear spirit then you would have died."
"Everyone would have died, Thera." he told me, "You saved all of us." Despite how astute Yearl was, there were some things he always seemed to miss.
"I don't care about everyone else." I admitted, "I care about you."
He sat down on the edge of the cot, resting a paw on my blanket-covered leg, "I care about you too, Thera... but I think concern for you should stop once I leave Myrh... this kind of loyalty goes well above and beyond what anyone should expect from a--"
"From a what, Yearl?" I demanded. Despite his reservations, I knew he felt something... I knew I wouldn't be able to say that about any other man I'd ever been with. Despite what I still didn't know about the Captain, that was something I DID know. Even if he couldn't admit it, he loved me... I wanted to hear him say it... I NEEDED to hear him say it so I could say it too. Why did I always feel like that bastard was waiting for me to say it first?
He sighed, "Thera... you don't have to be my protector."
"You saved my life decades ago... no matter how long ago I'm not going to forget it." I snapped.
"And you don't owe me anything." he snapped in response, "I already told you that."
"You did, yes," I countered, "But I also told you that you can't tell me what I can and can't do unless it's during your paid hour." I would have preferred to have said it quieter, but at least I didn't yell it.
"You're impossible!" we both shouted at the same time... and, three seconds later, I was blushing... so was he.
"Thera..." he said softly, "Why are you here?"
"Because you are." I answered without pause.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because you're the only man who never once asked for me to run away with him." It was the same thing I told him during the last minutes of our time together in Myrh. I realized after I said it, despite my subtle meaning, that he wouldn't miss it two times in a row.
"You were waiting for me to ask." he said softly, understanding suddenly blazing in his eyes.
"Every time you were with me." I admitted. Despite my powerful desire to keep my emotions in check, I was losing, and tears started to make my vision blurred.
"I didn't know how you felt." he admitted guiltily, glancing away from me to the ground.
"I couldn't say anything." I offered, feeling my cheek fur grow wet, "How many people believe a whore when she says 'I love you.'?"
Yearl's ears went up when I spoke those three words despite them being only a quote. He swallowed, and, for the first time in over twenty years, I saw the mighty Yearl Rakken fidget. He let out a breath and looked to me again; he remained in control of his eyes, despite them glistening in the candle light, "I would have."
"Why?" I had to ask.
"Because..." he swallowed audibly, "because you mean so much to me."
"How much do I mean to you?" his admission caught me by surprise, and my question escaped before I realized the needy tone in it.
"A lot." he answered, and his muzzle snapped shut. A tear squeezed past his defenses.
"Yearl Rakken..." I spoke softly, unable to realize that I would ever say the words in earnest, "I love you."
He recoiled at that, standing up immediately as if stung by a scorpion. He spun in place, turning away from me before turning back around to look down at me. He opened his muzzle to speak, and then covered it with his own paw, a shaky breath escaping through his fingers, "Thera.... I..."
Despite the pain and fatigue I forced myself to sit up on the cot, "You're a legendary Captain... I'm a whore." I admitted, "You help men survive... I help them get their kicks." I continued, "Your name is spoken in high halls of the nobles and within the vast chantries of the temple... mine isn't even spoken by the men who take me to bed." I was beyond sugar coating it, "Yearl... you will be remembered in song... I will be forgotten by morning."
"I'll remember you." he offered.
"I don't just want you to remember me." I admitted. Once the flood gates had opened it was only a matter of time before everything escaped, and I couldn't hold it back any longer. The words came out freely, accompanying the tears, "I want you to know that I want you for more than the coin you'll put on my dresser. I want to know that you'll be with me for more than an hour. Yearl... I don't want you to have to remember me because I don't ever want to be apart from you." I lowered my head and sobbed, still somehow managing to speak through the embarrassment of laying myself bare, "But most of all, I want you to want the same."
"I..." he started, and just stood there. I heard him reach for me once, but his paw went back to his side.
Once I had a chance to regain my composure I looked up at him. His cheeks were wet as well, amber eyes staring right at me, ringed with the wetness of emotions he had always managed to hide. "Yearl... tell me... aside from the fact of who and what I am, pushing aside the thousands of reasons 'why not', can you find any reason 'why', or would it have been better if I had died in the tower?"
He reached down and took my paw, folding both of his around it as he knelt down in front of me, "Thera Vann... you understand what kind of position you put me in..." he spoke quietly, comfortingly, but the words still stung.
"I do." I admitted, hating myself for it.
"What people would say?" he asked.
I nodded, "Yes."
"Then you'll appreciate when I say 'to the hells with them all.'." It took a few moments for the comment to sink in, but when his muzzle leaned forward to meet my own the point was very clear, and, as he slowly pulled away his next words drove the point home, "I love you."
To say that I was giddy would have been like calling the Wild Lands dangerous. I was beyond elated; at that moment, the only thing I had ever wanted became reality. In my joy, I couldn't help but ask, "What about Artemisia?"
He smiled with a hint of witty humor in his eye, "I'll let her down easy."
We shared a laugh, and I felt warm all over as he hugged me to him. Despite the fact that I wanted to enjoy the moment, there was still something nagging me, "Does anyone know why she kissed you?"
"It had something to do with your sacrifice, I believe." Yearl explained, resting his muzzle atop my head, "Don't worry about it... I believe that's something Brother Farstrider and Priestess Fanewatcher are discussing."
* * * * * *
"I understand and respect your concerns, Brother Farstrider," Anya noted casually in response to the wolf's objections. She had spent nearly twenty minutes listening to him explain the many reasons why the events in Ashlai should not have happened, but he was left with the feeling that he was still no closer to getting her to see the error in her decision.
"Do you?" he asked. It was not an accusation, but he truly did wonder if she had such a lack of empathy.
"You value the lives of those in the caravan." the jackal responded, resting her paw over the small fire pit in the center of her tent, "You wish to protect the fragile flame within each and every living being, and reproach me for my callous disregard for the safety and well-being of those under my care."
"And?" he inquired. She had expressed his concerns clearly, but the priest felt that she wasn't done.
"The funny thing about fire, Brother..." the jackal noted, and he watched the flames die out as her paw continued hovering over the coals, "The fire may be extinguished, but coals remain." her eyes, gazing into the pit, looked up at him. They were dark brown... so dark as to almost look completely black. Her continued gaze made him feel uneasy, but he wasn't about to look away.
"All the more reason to protect it." he countered.
"You confuse flame with what is truly important." she responded, pulling several pieces of kindling from a pile and tossed it onto the coals, "I appreciate the sentimentality, but, in the end, it's beside the point. So long as the world remains a place of the Goddess, there will always be life." the sticks crackled and, once she had leaned forward to blow onto the coals, new fire sprang into being. "Life finds a way, Ryan."
"So you are content to waste life just because you believe it is infinite?" he countered, feeling uneasy with the strange logic in her argument.
"Waste?" she inquired, ears up, "Of course not." and she slowly built a spit over the fire pit as she continued, "Life is a gift of the Goddess, and I would never propose to devalue any gift given by her." the jackal set a small cauldron in place atop the spit and began filling it with water. "What I am saying is that life is greater than death."
"So you put everyone in danger just to prove your philosophy that life always triumphs?" he demanded. Her casual wordplay was starting get to him; despite his ample will, something about the Priestess implied that there was no reaching her.
"I don't need to prove it, Ryan... that's why it is a PERSONAL philosophy." she explained, "But I would propose the possibility that I might be wrong."
The comment caused the Priest to pause; it was the first time that he actually felt like he'd gained any ground with her, "It is possible." he confirmed, "Nobody can be right all of the time."
"Undeath is a disease, Brother." she explained, "Are you in agreement?"
"It is an affront to the Goddess." he elaborated.
"And it can spread." she clarified, "correct?"
"Yes." he acknowledged.
"And diseases must either be contained or eradicated." she stated.
Brother Farstrider did not need to make much of a leap in thinking to figure out where she was going with her idea, "So you are implying that the purification of Ashlai was curing the land?"
"It was excising rot so that a patient may live." Anya stated.
"But the haunting was contained." he objected, "How many people could have lost their lives if we were not successful?" he proposed.
"Many less than if the undead had extended beyond the ruins." she pointed out.
"But they were contained!" he repeated.
"So is this water, Brother." the jackal motioned to the not-quite boiling water in the cauldron, "But... if something were to change that..." she tilted the container with the butt of her scythe, up ending it so that it splashed down onto the fire, sending up large gouts of steam and extinguishing it completely, "then not even coals remain."
"If I'm following your analogy, you're proposing that a single undead infestation could create an end to life." the wolf asserted.
"You're following my analogy just fine, Ryan." her monotone voice called to him from the darkness.
"But life is stronger than undeath." the priest challenged, the fur on the back of his neck starting to stand on end at what the Priestess was suggesting.
"True... while there is more of it... a single drop of water will evaporate when placed within an inferno... but what if we allow undeath to grow unchecked? Suddenly we are looking at a cauldron of swirling blackness perched precariously over our feeble little campfire of impotent hope."
"I don't believe that." the wolf challenged.
"Good." her response came casually from the blackness, "then you'll still be able to sleep tonight."
Ryan Farstrider showed himself out of her tent; he had a feeling that their discussion was over. No matter how much he wanted to refute her argument there was too much on his mind... too many strong points made for him to succeed. "Another night." he told himself, "She's wrong." he returned to his tent, really hoping that he was right. He sighed, passing by Jerard's tent; though he heard voices coming from within he was far too tired and drained to be curious.
* * * * * *
Jerard laughed even as Beo did, the black husky incredibly animated as he told the story, "And then..." Beo noted, wiping a tear from his eye as he paused from laughing so he could finish the tale, "the guild master said 'Mr. Kyr, that is not even an Elven stave.'." and he started laughing again.
The human paused, raising an eyebrow at the tale, "You were trying to enchant a normal stave?" The husky grinned wide, nodding vigorously. Jerard raised the other eyebrow to join the first, "You DO know that Elven staves are the only kind able to maintain a charge without exploding, right?"
Beo grinned even wider, "I do now!" The two shared another laugh that lasted for a minute solid. As they each came down from their snickers and chuckles, the husky turned to him, "What about you? What's the stupidest thing YOU'VE ever done?"
The laughing escaped Jerard as he thought about the question. It had been a long time since he'd been able to laugh with anything other than scorn, but looking back at his life's track record of let-downs, disappointments, and tragedies, he was reminded why. "I'm not really liking this game anymore."
Beo let out a faint "aww." and sat up, "You didn't even take a turn yet."
"I know." Jerard acknowledged, "but my life is too full of stupid things to pick just one."
"Well..." the dog asked, wagging encouragingly, "what about the most recent one then?"
"Other than agreeing to this game?" Jerard asked, standing up.
"Hold on..." Beo stood up as well, "I'm sorry... listen... if you don't want to play that's alright... we can do something else. You don't have to go."
"I wasn't going to." Jerard commented, "This IS my tent."
Beo blushed at the comment, "Oh yea." he grinned sheepishly, then added as an afterthought, "Could you... maybe tell me about your Moon Blessing?"
"There isn't much to tell." Jerard answered, slowly sitting back down on the ground across from Beo, "I haven't really talked about it with anyone in a long time."
"Are you worried you'll be out of practice?" Beo chided in a friendly tone, tail wagging anew.
"No." Jerard chuckled despite himself, "I just don't make it a point to disclose personal information."
"Then how about changing for me so I can see it up close while I'm not in danger of getting eaten by a plant or pulled apart by undead?" his tail wagged faster.
"Feh," Jerard rolled his eyes, "It's not all that interesting."
"For someone who can do it at will, maybe... but I've NEVER seen a Moon Blessed up close." Beo noted enthusiastically.
"You're looking at one now." Jerard countered. He knew what the husky meant, but he also didn't mind toying with him.
"Please?" Beo asked, a faint canine whine in the tone. The human cut him off before he could add the puppy-eyes to it.
"You're not going to freak out?" Jerard continued chiding.
"Not in a bad way." Beo noted with a wide grin.
"Alright... then give me your paw." the human noted, holding a hand out to the husky. Beo obediently put his paw in Jerard's hand, "Tell me if this makes your stomach churn." and the human took hold of the piece of his body that was not part of him, controlling movements that were not brought about by muscle, and waited patiently as the the bones in his forearm began to broaden, the muscle rewrapping itself around the new skeleton. None of this was visible, of course, save for the increase in size, and the entire appendage from the elbow down sprouted pure-white fur. His fingernails grew out into proper claws and his hand, which had been on par size-wise with Beo's paw, suddenly dwarfed it.
"ooOOOohhh..." Beo shuddered, his fur standing on end, but not from revulsion, "Can... can you change something else?" the husky asked, and, before Jerard could answer, the black-furred dog quickly moved his paws to Jerard's face, "Change again."
Jerard bit back an objection at the husky's proximity, watching the excited dog's tail wagging quickly, "You're not going to leave me alone about this, are you?" he asked flatly. Beo just grinned in response. Sighing, the human closed his eyes, rolling his head on his neck as he let the change that came over his arm course through the rest of his body. At one time, the change had hurt, but the hurt grew into discomfort after he began to learn how to control it and, once he had mastered the shifting of shapes it became just another action that his body was capable of.
It was an action that his company decidedly approved of, "Oh, Goddess... that's..." the husky shivered, pulling his paws away from Jerard's lupine face, "...amazing." Jerard had no trouble smelling the dog's excitement with his altered nose.
"There are a lot of things about me that are amazing." the werewolf chuckled, "but most people are a little too uncomfortable to find out what they are."
Beo sat back, folding his paws in his lap to hide the proof of his excitement from Jerard's eyes. The werewolf chuckled at the meek action and slowly shrugged out of the robe he had been wearing, which was far too confining for his larger form anyway. The fact that Beo's eyes went directly where the werewolf thought they would made him laugh again, "Amazing?" he asked, reaching out a paw to grab hold of the husky's shoulder.
"Goddess, yes." the dog panted, no longer bothering to act conservative about his interest.
"I thought you'd think so." Jerard chuckled. It had been over a year since he had a partner and, as he rolled the complaint husky over onto his stomach, he realized that occasionally opening up to others had its advantages.
"Oh Goddess..." Beo whimpered, squirming beneath Jerard's grip, trying to undo his trousers.
The werewolf grinned, gazing down at the fluffy tail making a continuous, circular wag in the air, and he reached past Beo's frantic paws to grab hold of the waistband of the dog's pants and began to pull them off with a smooth, singular yank... but he stopped before they were off completely. The husky began to squirm in his grasp again, and Jerard stilled him with a quick addition of pressure, "Quiet."
"I... I'm actually a little loud when I'm excited." the husky giggled, blushing.
"Quiet." Jerard repeated, his ears swiveling as he tried to listen for what he thought he'd heard... but to no avail. "Damn..." he growled, letting go of Beo.
"But... I--" the husky stammered.
"Quiet." Jerard repeated, pulling a small silver disc from its place on a stand. He held it in both his paws and spoke a simple arcane chant into it. As the vision grew clearer he cursed and tossed the disc down, "Get dressed." he ordered.
"I thought we--" Beo whined.
"Later... first we need to kill some draconids."
The dog drooped, "Fuck."
"Like I said..." Jerard spoke on his way to the exit of the tent. He glanced back over his shoulder, tal wagging, "Later."
* * * * * *
Although the Myrheans' encounter with the undead is in the past, the lingering effects of it still echo through the party.
It seems that Artemisia has some conflicted emotions when it comes to the strange memories and feelings flowing through her. Kell has something of a past that gave him insight into the dragoness' condition, but he's quiet on the topic. Yearl and Thera had a long, emotional talk and said the words they should have spoken years ago. Ryan and Anya have a minor theological and philosophical argument, leaving Priest Farstrider's head spinning... while Jerard makes Beo spin something else.
It's a little unfortunate that everyone's musings are interrupted by Jerard's divination... which can only mean one thing: despite the party's injuries, combat is upon them again.
Champions of Myrh, I will require a Stance from each of you. Stance is given on a rating of 0-5 where 5 is full offense, 4 is aggressive, 3 is neutral, 2 is conservative, and 1 is reserved, A rating of 0 indicates that the character will NOT be taking part in combat (not even in a support role). Please bear in mind that these ratings will increase your Offense the higher your Stance number and increase your Defense the lower your Stance number (or, in the case of 0, have the character try to avoid combat altogether)-- the opposite sub-trait decreases conversely (Defense goes down if the number is high; Offense goes down if the number is low).
I will also require a Utilization number for those characters that have an 11 or higher in combined Magic + Sub-Trait or Faith + Sub-Trait. Like Stance, Utilization ranges from 0-5. Utilization is a numerical equivalent of how free your contributed character is with their magic and/or prayers-- a charater with a higher Utilization is more inclined to use their abilities often and more powerfully while a character that elects a lower Utilization is less likely to depend on them (Utilization of 0 will result in the character foregoing any such abilities). Bear in mind that the higher the level of Utilization the more likely a character is to suffer from fatigue. Characters with higher Attribute + Sub-Skill totals are able less likely to be affected by fatigue unless they use a higher score of Utilization.
For an example of how to declare Stance and Utilization, please view the actions taken by the Author-Contributed characters below.
Considering the injuries already among the group, I will also point out that the Contributing Readers may propose the use of a Luck Point to avoid this particular event. While you will not gain any of the bonuses for a success, you will likewise not be levied any penalties for having failed. Assuming you wish to use a Luck Point in this way the vote must be unanimous, so I'll want your combat specs regardless.
Contributing Readers, make sure you make your stance and utilization selections before midnight (pst) on Thursday, July 21st.