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Lust, Hatred and Delusion (Cyrano x daydrifter)

Joined
May 27, 2020
In the teachings of the monks of the Air Nomads there were five rules that were held above all others. Five precepts to govern the life of the Air Nomad as he flew upon the winds accompanied by his sky bison and the spirits. Those precepts had once seemed so simple to the man who called himself Sarambha, back int he time before Sarambha had been born. In those times he had borne a different name, a different attitude, a different face. All before he had carried the weight of his entire people's history and destiny itself upon his shoulders. At that time, the young boy that he had been had heard the precepts and thought that they were the simplest things in the world.

  1. to refrain from killing
  2. to refrain from stealing
  3. to refrain from lying
  4. to refrain from improper sexual conduct
  5. to refrain from consuming intoxicants
The simplicity of a world governed by these precepts had died with the Air Nomads in the light of Sozin's Comet. The scar on Sarambha's chest itched at the memory of seeing the Northern Air Temple ablaze, the smell of smoke and burning flesh filled his nostrils and the ghosts of screams filled his ears. The screams of children, the screams of bison. The flash of lightning and the clap of thunder as a Fire Nation officer dropped bison and their passengers from the sky with ruthless ease and callous disregard for the lives he was ending.

The-boy-who-would-be-Sarambha nearly made it to the mountains of the Earth Kingdom and to the shelter he believed he could find there. Then the lightning found him, first hot and then cold, so cold as he fell from the sky with his bison beneath him. The boy had died in that fall. Sarambha had been born during it, coming into this world wrapped in furs and swaddled in bandages and ointments ina herbalist's cave. His body had been healed, but his spirit was destroyed. He had awoken into a world where everything he had known was gone. For forty days and nights he lay in that cave, healing and struggling to survive the wound done to his spirit. A fever took him and led him to the spirit world, and when his spirit finally returned to his body it was different, changed.

The name Sarambha meant 'accompanied by violence' and it was a fitting name for so he was. His clothes had been destroyed in the fall, as had his glider. So he left that cave wrapped in rags and leaning on a bo staff for balance as he moved through the mountain paths towards the nearest villages. His hair had grown out to cover the tattoos on his head and the rags covered the ones on his arms. It was while he was in the mountains that he remembered the teachings of Guru Shoken. The Guru had lived almost four thousand years prior and had thought that people should follow their own path unburdened by the morals or beliefs of society, by ignoring the opinions of others it was possible to discover one's self and exist without compunction. That night Sarambha had come across a Fire Nation patrol camped by the side of the road.

As he stood in the blood of the men he had slain clarity came to Sarambha. He was the Last Airbender, a nation unto himself. He could allow no restrictions to prevent him from continuing their legacy in what small way he could and he would need to survive long enough to find the Avatar. In order to live that long though, he would need to kill. The Fire Nation had no doubt killed the Avatar in their raid on the day of Sozin's Comet, so he would need to search the homes of the water benders to find the next avatar and stay with them until they had mastered air bending. To that end Sarambha began moving north again, hoping to begin his search at the Northern Water Tribe. A series of rivers and canals connected the ocean to the Northern ocean and the Fire Nation had begun moving their ships into these waters years before. Disguised as a sand bender Sarambha took passage on a Fire Nation ship heading north, it was a troop transport ship bringing settlers and soldiers to one of the colonies the Fire Lord was establishing around the former Northern Air Temple.

Sarambha had resisted his instincts and his wrath for three days. now the ship smelled of blood and death and Sarambha sat in the hold meditating, his face painted with blood. His staff lay across his lap and he had acquired a sword that he wore on his hip. A gourd filled with sand on his right hip explained many of the cuts and slashes across the ship that would make it seem as if he were an air bender. At first glance now he was merely a particularly deadly sand bender. A sand bender who had no compunctions about killing the civilians aboard the ship as well as the soldiers.

He sat there and waited patiently, meditating on his next move as he heard another ship come about to search the Fire Nation ship trapped in the shallows of the river where the helmsman had driven them with his dying motions at the wheel. Sarambha's fingers twitched, waiting to identify these new arrivals before deciding whether to add them to the occupations of the tomb he had created.
 
The Baoying, or Retribution, was a fine, swift ship with a peculiar blend of properties. It had started life as a Water Tribe vessel, swift and light, built for speed rather than hardiness. But over its years of service to the Earth Kingdom as a privateering ship, it had been altered with modifications--namely a vicious ram, a proper cabin built above decks, and a paintjob. Its sails were black canvas, and it flew equally black, blank flags with no sigil. There was no other ship quite like it--it blended Water Tribe ingenuity with Earth Kingdom might, an amalgamation of Water and Earth that was reflected in the composition of its crew. Most of those manning the Baoying hailed from the Earth Kingdom, with a smattering of Water Tribals among them. Only one on board possessed bending capabilities, but every single soul vehemently hated Fire Nation, and with good reason; they’d all been at the business end of flaming Fire Nation soldier’s spears. They all saw the faces of loved ones lost when they closed their eyes and dreamed.

Captain Akaya of Snow on the Moon remembered the black “snow” when the Fire Nation came for her tribe, how she marveled at it, stuck out her tongue to let a fleck of it settle there, wondering what it would taste like...the look of horror on her older brother’s face, then the screams. The taste was oily and bitter, sooty. She gagged, sputtered, and then she was being dragged off by her brother as the metal ships crashed into the icy shores of their humble little village. The shiny red burn scars on her shoulder and back were hidden under her clothes, but she never forgot for a moment why they were there, or what they had cost her.

Akaya was the vengeful spirit of her people, and her ship the boogeyman of the Fire Nation’s Navy. There were stories told at night by the soldiers, with many variations, many elaborations and versions, but every tale had this in common: the Baoying came at night, and always under the light of a full moon. That was when the water bender was at her most powerful, and she had learned how to time her attacks just right--a skill that had earned her the title of Captain. Her crew feared her enough to follow her orders, and whether they loved her or not, it didn’t matter. They shared the same hatred, and that was as strong a bond as any.

As the Baoying slipped quietly through the calm waters of the river, approaching the Fire Nation ship, Akaya felt a tingle down her spine. She stood at the bow of her ship, poised to attack at first sight of enemies...but instead of the spear wielders, the fire throwers and the roars of orders and yells of soldiers, there was an unsettling stillness. Suspecting a trap, she looked to her Scout.

“What do you see, Far Eyes?”

“Bodies!” came the answer.

Sleeping or dead or just pretending, Akaya didn’t know, but to be sure, she gave orders for an attack, and as her boarding men charged, the Captain of the Baoying summoned up a shower of water from the river, froze the droplets in place, and then threw them like daggers towards the lumps on deck. The projectiles made their marks without resistance. No cries of pain. No shifting. Nothing. These people were dead.

They boarded the Fire Nation ship, and Akaya let her people search the bodies, many of them slipping in the blood and viscera strewn about. The stench was overpowering, even for privateers accustomed to long weeks spent sweating and sleeping in close quarters with other equally unwashed bodies. Some of the men ran to the rails, making offerings of their stomach contents to the river.

Akaya managed to fight it as she picked her way through the carnage, using her water bending to wash away the worst of the gore as she made her way towards the trapdoor to the hold. She noted the many slashes in the wood and metal of the ship’s surface, which gave her pause.

What on earth and sea had happened here?

She kicked open the door, and peered down into the darkness. The moon cast its silvery beam down into the unlit hold, but it wasn’t nearly enough to illuminate the depths. Akaya called for a torch, and she took hold of it with one hand and with her other, she gathered a sphere of water around it. If anyone was down here itching for a fight, she would be ready. Akaya was granted the right to harry any Fire Nation ships she came across by the Earth Kingdom’s good graces, but she didn’t adhere to any laws but her own. She didn’t offer anyone who may still be alive a chance to give up peacefully, because she would not lie to them. There would be no quarter. No mercy. Anyone she found, she killed. Simple.

As she made it to the last step, and then the hold floor proper, she swept her eyes about the place, peering around barrels and crates, when she caught sight of a lone figure, seated upon the floor. She made a tight fist, but didn’t lash out with an attack. Not yet. Her curiosity got the better of her.

“And who are you, to have survived the massacre that went on here?” she inquired to the lone figure, her voice ringing clear and calm while her heart hammered like a frantic war drum in her ears.
 
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