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Breygrah
Breygrah
Level: 0
Realm: Ravenholdt
Posts: 26
Joined: January 31st, 2015, 3:11 am
Location: NYC
Breygrah

Death Song

Postby Breygrah » February 16th, 2015, 7:53 am

A nighttime rain falls upon Mulgore in torrents, but Breygrah doesn't mind it. It seeps through the joints of her plate. It soaks her thoroughly to the skin as she slowly marches on the dirt path to Camp Narache. She can feel it dripping from her mane with each step, hear the quiet ting of each drop smacking against her helm.

The plains are eerily silent. The only movement she senses are the kodos wandering aimlessly in the distance, as they always do. The faire carnies have thankfully packed up and left the meadows in peace; beasts and birds gather in and under trees for refuge from the showers. Thunder and lightning are absent, only the noise of the downpour, the rainscent, the blinding of the pouring fills her senses.

More silent still is the whispering of the spirits.

She hasn't traveled through Mulgore since the days before the cataclysm of the lands. Though much of her adopted home looks the same, she so very faintly detects the primal disturbances still gripping the land. An almost kind of silent agony, barely an idea. Her idle thoughts are disturbed by the slippery bridge over Stonebull Lake. Bloodhoof Village appears empty aside from the fires glowing from inside the huts and tents. The village isn't her destination. She continues on.

Her heart is heavy.

Breygrah's gaze finally finds Red Cloud Mesa in the darkness. Upon seeing it the protector pauses her step. She remembers the commencement of her training and her being delivered as an initiate of the Ragetotem tribe. She recalls the kind eyes of the Greatmother, her adopted Greatmother, she who became greatmother to all that passed through the camp. She can almost hear the cheers and songs of braves that fell their first enemy, the squeals of the pigmen that transgressed her kind. She swells with pride, but then remembers to guard herself. This isn't a homecoming.

The wind picks up and the faintest hint of lightning blinks a fleeting glow as she finds the new path up to the Mesa. It's muddy and steep, it feels as if it isn't often traveled. Approaching the camp from the wrong direction feels strange. Nothing looks the same as she remembers, especially in the dark. There are three braves standing watch, facing the east, gazing into the blackness. If they notice her, they don't show it, and her lips curl into a faint smile, drawing on the pride she tries to suppress. Two men stand with their axes ready, as if the enemy was almost in reach. A young woman kneels on one knee between them, a bow in one hand and a horn near the other, resting by her knee. Whether it is boars or pigmen they watch for, they are committed to their duty. Brey sensed there is nothing stirring in the darkness. Skins guard the tents from the torrents while the wind whips and reveals faint light through the corners.

The graveyard is in the same spot as always.

She sees the great bier standing under a canopy. Was it just erected for the night? Breygrah almost cannot take her eyes off of it. The gifts left at the bier look as if they were placed there yesterday. Herb bunches stick out of pouches that are in turn stuffed into clay jars with antlers, skins, corn. A heavy leather banner depicting some of her wisdom waves in the breeze. The warrior steps cautiously around the display. She inspects every detail visible in the night. There's no apparent weathering; the village still reveres the greatmother as they always have. Her mind plays out unending scenes where she could have saved her, protected her, even all this time later. A lump forms in her throat.

Breygrah
Breygrah
Level: 0
Realm: Ravenholdt
Posts: 26
Joined: January 31st, 2015, 3:11 am
Location: NYC
Breygrah

Re: Death Song

Postby Breygrah » February 16th, 2015, 8:48 am

The wind will blow. The rain will fall.

Breygrah's chest feels as if it rumbles as she controls her breathing. Even with no eyes spying her, she wants some semblance of control over herself. She sluggishly pulls her sword from her side, and with a deep breath she drives it into the earth while falling upon one knee. Resisting the urge to cry out in anguish is difficult. Her hands ache in their grip on the hilt, while her gaze travels past the bier into the black distance. She wasn't here to mourn for her lost Greatmother, but no. If she was here now she wouldn't want mourning for her loss. Such is the cycle of life, she can almost hear the woman say. Pale blue eyes rise up the towering mesa before her.

Why are the spirits so quiet? Why don't they warn her, about anything?

Her shield, this thing that gives her such purpose in life is suddenly so heavy. She slides it down from her back and drops the corner into the ground before fixing it against her sword. If only she could see me now, what I've become.

"If she knew what I've done..." she says aloud to her temporary monument. Breygrah's heart pounds heavily, but not as if she were in the heat of battle. This foreign burden is uncomfortable; she rises clumsily and trudges through the graveyard toward the ramp to Fargaze Mesa. Her satchel is lifted over her head and it lands with a plop before she drags it along the ground beside her. She grabs her great helm with the other hand and peels it from her head. She can see her breath though the rain, it does nothing to soothe her hot skin. The water trickling down her neck itches.

There are no braves guarding the Mesa this night, no plainstriders lulling about. She is met at the top of the path with a low rolling thunder, another hint of lightning streaking across the sky. The downpour intensifies as she nears the sacred circle in the pitch black of the night. Starlight faintly illuminates the stone formation, as well as the offerings and reagents left by others. Water dripping down the towering totems seems to sparkle. Breygrah screams out a cry that rivals her most intense shouts in battle, and with a swing of her arm the small bag flings over her head and hard onto the ground. The leather pouch contained within escapes and slides across the mud into a pile of herbs. She flings her helmet at the center totem and it bounces off with what would have been a deafening clatter if not for the storm.

"You forsake me!" she cries with a hurl of her left shoulder plate into no particular direction. "You leave me to stumble!" The right plate sails past the totems, it slides and rolls before coming to rest in the dirt. She grasps for rocks around her to lob in turn.

"You didn't let me save her! You don't let me save anyone! You didn't warn me about what they would do!" Her eyes burn with tears and raindrops as she assaults the nothingness around her. "You let me turn into a beast! I don't fight villagers! I don't kill civilians! I don't harm innocents!" A kick upended a bowl of spiced spirits and a gathering of spiced fruit next to it. She dropped her gauntlets and turned her attack onto the smaller totem near her with her bare fists. It was unmoving.

"I couldn't have controlled the Bull if I tried! Or the rest... I can't be one with them! I can't let people think I'm like them." The words are bitter in her mouth. Her new acquaintances, they could even become friends and allies, but they were so ruthless. They were supposed to aid, they were all suppose to help. It wasn't suppose to become a slaughter! She slumps down to her knees while eyeing the tabard on her chest. "I... I'm not worthy of them. I haven't earned this. No, I earned it once. But I no longer deserve it." Her words to no one run together like a madman.

Still there was silence.

Breygrah
Breygrah
Level: 0
Realm: Ravenholdt
Posts: 26
Joined: January 31st, 2015, 3:11 am
Location: NYC
Breygrah

Re: Death Song

Postby Breygrah » February 16th, 2015, 12:06 pm

She begs to be heard.

The totem ignores her jabs just as the spirits have. She doesn't notice the slick surface for the showers around her. Not until she smells the metallic-copper aroma of her raw knuckles. It draws her to the red stains reflecting off of the white paint. The totem and her fists are a mess. She suddenly sees clearly, "Huh. Well then." She inspects the wounds she has given herself with a shrug. It'll hurt later, but for now she still felt a rush. "I'd wipe it on Konro's face" she mused to herself. She imagined wiping it on the gift he had sent her earlier, then throwing it at him, but only for a fleeting moment. "Supply run my ass." She even smirks a little.

Breygrah rises and stumbles toward the pouch that escaped her. Less muddy than she expects, it's clean enough. She stares at it for several moments before opening the clasp. The pouch is discarded, tossed over toward the bag that held it. Two slips of frostweave cloth, and one magically imbued, holds a chunk of a druid idol that belonged to a past mate. She reaches up to trace the outline of her broken horn as she inspects the piece, her brow is furrowed and wrinkled in painful thought. The magic was still powerful; it made her uncomfortable.

"I've held on, too long, to everything." Kerala spoke of the death of the year not too long ago. Brey understood what it was before, but she has devised her own meaning. She promptly walks over to the edge of the mesa, and with the cloth bunched in one hand hurls the trophy she has carried for so long off into the darkness. She listened; there was nothing. "I can redeem myself. I will redeem myself. I won't allow innocents to come to harm again, especially because of my inaction." She rips her tabard in half down across her chest. The spirits aren't speaking, but she decides that they had heard her. It's time to move on and take action. Time for acceptance.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Dawn is breaking as the first Brave marches up the side of the mesa for his watch. He protests as he yanks his hoof out of a mud puddle with a sick glop, and is suprised to hear a chuckle in front of him. The young one panicks for a moment, blinded by the rays of An'she. Relax, she says with a wave and the stereotypical warrior hail.

He inspects her somewhat disheveled state. Her hair is a mess, she's dirty, as is her bag and a pile of armor in her arms. The bloody hands aren't too out of place. She only offers a shrug in response. "Hey! What are you... wait. Hm." Breygrah tilts her head. "That's your stuff down by the tree? Better go get it before the kids scuff it up playing with it." Breygrah gives him a half smile and looks past him to see a couple fledglings eyeing her equipment in the distance. "You're one of those people that works for Baine, right?" She thinks for a moment while looking down at her torn tabard.

"I am. If you open your ear to the spirits, they may guide you there as well."

The young ones scatter as she approaches the gravesite once more. The shield is on its side, but they adorably couldn't even pull the sword from the ground. She drops her things on the ground and approaches the bier one last time. Brey opens a small door she attached to her belt herself. Inside is a tiny scroll, and imprinted are tiny Taurahe pictograms depicting a song the Greatmother would sing years and years ago. Breygrah wasn't smart enough to make up her own song for Kerala's ceremony. She would have used this one, but it has its place now. She can do without. She reads over the scroll once more. She isn't quite sure how she will fit in to the cycle of life herself, but she has a duty to protect that cycle for everyone else. She reties the ribbon around it and tucks it into the fold of a quilt covering her.

Breygrah lifts her shield to her back once more and stared at the deep orange-yellow sky for a few moments. She can't possibly continue her journey unscathed, but such is the order of things. The hard part will be avoiding the possible wrath of her new acquaintances. "Here's hoping that big dope understands."

She waits a few more moments, but as before there is only deafening silence.


She's okay with it.




The wind will blow
The rain will fall
Fires will rage
Just as they have for all of time

The sun will shine
The moon will glow
The sea ebbs and flows
Time waits for no creature, especially not me

Birds will sing their songs
Beasts will graze without care
Life will fade and begin anew
Just as it will with me

I will die a champion
Or I will die peacefully
But my life will be lived with honor and virtue
Until the next has risen to take my place

The circle begins anew.

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