Dawn of the Aweless Age

[Shadows Beckon]

It was in morning before Aretor first felt the rays of the sun, cresting over the Dragon's Spine mountains which now lay behind him in the East. Finding passage through their hazardous and frosted peaks had been an arduous challenge, but now, traveling down into the foothills over plains of tall, golden swaying grass he regarded them as nothing but a stepping stone towards his true objective. Already he had achieved a task believed impossible by the realms now to his East, perhaps even by those who had sent him on such a journey, but he had proved their trust in him to be well founded (and thwarted those who thought this an easy way to be rid of him). Now, that he was past the crux of his journey, he could begin his true purpose, what he had been chosen for amongst all the Dowager's agents to achieve; to explore the Western Realms, and return with all that they might offer in treasures, wonders and allies.

It was a task he did not take lightly, though he wore a pleasant enough smile as he drove his cart down through the thickening shrubbery. There was no path or road that he had found yet, but then the sharani which pulled the cart were adept at forging their own path. They were great reptilian beasts, comparable in size and strength to an ox, but possessed unparalleled stamina and endurance, armored scales, sharp claws and a keen, predatory intelligence that could make them difficult control, without first earning their respect. And Aretor had earned that respect thrice over from both creatures during their pass through the mountains, guiding, protecting and displaying feats worthy of their honor as a fellow predator, above the various prey things they had past encountered. For his own part, Aretor took little pride in his accomplishments, beyond the glory and prestige they would win for his mistress and clan upon his return, but knew that their were few men who might best them.

As an agent of the Dowager, this was only to be expected of him, despite his humble origins. Originally the son of a craftsman, he had begun learning his trade before his village had been sacked by a rival faction, and following his parents death, took up the arms he had helped to craft against the adversaries of the Dowager, alongside those soldiers who remained to defend, and soon proved himself an able warrior, as well as a keen strategist in the defense of neighboring towns and villages. It was at the climax of the siege of the capital of his province that he displayed his true brilliance however, taking charge of the cities defenses, establishing new and greater perils that wreaked havoc amongst the invading soldiers and their great warmachines. At the height of the battle, he stood at the battlements repelling wave after wave of troops, only to be confronted by his opposite, the commander of the Ducal forces, and a Magus of Storms. As bolts of arcane energy wracked his fellow troops, Aretor approached the spellcaster unscathed, the arms and armor he had forged for himself as resilient against the arcane forces as they were the blades and blows they turned all through the battle. With a singular blow he felled the Magus, and with the arrival of the Dowager's Royal Guard, the opposing army was crushed in their retreat.

The battle had brought forth Aretor's greatest talents, not just in war and engineering, but also as a magic user himself, and he was blessed by the Dowager herself that day, praised for his deeds and elevated from a peasants role to study as an artificer and enchanter in her eminences court. Since then, he had served in whatever role his mistress asked of him, artisan, arbiter, executor, spy, tactician, advisor, and now explorer of and ambassador to the realms of the unknown West. Aretor had grown from a callow youth now, under the tutelage of a great many scholars, magi, mentors and warriors into a striking figure, possessing a supreme self-confidence, warranted not just by his many achievements, but at least in part by his handsome, almost aquiline features, set off by his auburn curls and striking sea green eyes. He wore the traditional deep burgundy red of his Clan, detailed and enhanced with the bright brass which marked him as a magi. Over his tunic he wore an ornate suit of brass studded leather, with banded mail over his shoulders and forming a skirt at his waist, where hung his personally crafted saber, an ornate runeblade with a bright ruby in it's pommel, and across from it, a spellock pistol, the mechanism for his guild's brand of magic.

Making his way now at the head of his cart, packed full of supplies and tools and gifts to any potential comers he struck an intriguing, if odd figure against the hillside, descending into the valley below, plain to see for any watchers of the dawn on this bright morning.

 

[Kylea]

Crouching deep with a nearby shrubbery she watched the grazing animals with a predator's eye. Her keen senses alert to their every move. She had been picked as hunter over the men in her clan because of her uncanny ability to sense the animals emotion. She could tell before they did whether or not they knew she was there. She edged slowly forward, balancing precariously on her tip toes. It was to be a long, cold, frigid winter. The sky reader had told her people some weeks back that their preparations for the snow would not suffice. So they had selected the prime from among their young to go on a quest for meat.

Her people had been raised on the land. Building only temporary homes and traveling throughout the year from site to site to keep themselves in the optimal climate. Typically they strayed towards the warmer coastal lands but this Samhain a special request had come to their people from the Queen herself. She was to throw a grand Mid-Winter festival, days of celebration and feasts. A great carnival was to be hosted and the Al'tikaer people had been summoned to fulfill the role of entertainment. Known far and wide for their amazing stunts and magickal phenomenon. Their tumbling acts defying the natural law, while mystifying even the most scientific of man with their grande marvels of the ethereal plane.

Nienna shook her head silently remembering how the people of her clan had immediately forgotten all sense of themselves. This would be their first winter in the West and none but she had began to plan for the rough weather that was headed their way. Certainly she was trained as well to be a performer, excelling beyond her brothers abilities in both acrobatics and magicks. This girl though, had a slightly more sensible head on her shoulders. She returned her gaze to the sturdy beasts ahead of her in the open meadow. Identifying one of the animals out of the herd.

He was a massive specimen. He stood at least 20 hands tall, towering above the rest like some sort of God. His coat glistened in the cool morning air. It's brown and white spots rippling as he lifted his head chewing the sweet grass of the land. The skultari were known to be a gentle but prideful species. Only attacking when first shown aggression and with a tendency to be tamed. They made excellent work animals, used by several states for carting around their goods from nation to nation. But today Nienna wanted one for the warmth of their bellies and survival of her people over the next several months.

It had been a hard decision for her clan to accept. Traditionally vegetarian aside from swimming or flying creatures they did not easily turn to the thought of killing such an intelligent and useful beast. But the leather of his hide would provide warm clothes for many of the tribes young, the meat would feed them throughout the winter if used in proportion to the rest of their typical diet. The organs a delicacy and the bones used as utensils and tools for intricate etch work in their many costumes. No single part would be wasted. Even the blood reserved for it's own uses. She stalked the animal, moving swift and silent like a cat moving in on an unsuspecting mouse. She came to the edge of the brush and took a deep calming breath.

In one fluid motion she stood, arrow notched in the bows taught string, took aim and released. Just as the bow snapped from her fingers a loud raucous could be heard from the road just a few hundred feet from where she stood. The massive animal, alerted to the presence of others took off running, the heard following. Nienna cursed her luck and took of leaping after the fleeing animals. Her light footsteps hardly leaving a trace in the soft earth beneath her. The thin green suede hugging her curves swished as she leapt over rock and brush. Her heart pounded in her throat from the excitement. A part of her pleased that the animal had escaped, another angry with whomever it was that had disturbed her hunt. Her violet eyes scanned the horizon as she closed in on the road. Though the animals had taken to run they had strangely charged toward the sound as opposed to from it. Dark reddish black curls bounced again her muscular back and shoulders as she found her way through a thick cropping of trees. She stopped only when she heard his voice.

 

[Shadows Beckon]

The movement of the herd of skultari off to his left immediately caught Aretor's attention as his sharani similarly perked up, identifying them as potential prey. Aretor was too intrigued by the beasts to allow them free reign however, and pulled up on the reigns to watch as the great herd approached what could only be a road winding it's way between the valley, and he was a pleased to see it, as he was by this new discovery. No such creatures as large as these existed in the Eastern lands, not mammalian anyway. They seemed vaguely comparable to the reptilian megadon creatures herded through the hills and plains and swamps of his home land but as he was about to make his way towards the road in pursuit of both the creatures and a route to civilization, he once again pause as his eyes perceived the woman already in pursuit of them.

"Greetings!" He called out to her, standing up from his cart before the beasts tugged at the reins, forcing him to pull back and keep them in line as the skultari made their way with an increasing pace towards him. His attention was now diverted between the woman pursuing the creatures with some form of primitive bow weapon, and the skultari who seemed intent on bowling past his cart and sharani guiding it. Making a split decision, he let loose the reins and leapt forward to release the sharani from the bonds of their harness and the two hunters immediately set to parting the herd around them and the cart, growling and snarling the scattering skultari before them, before closing in on one amongst the herd.

Aretor meanwhile seized the opportunity to wrap his burgundy cloak about him and adjust the broad brimmed hat on his head to make his way towards the huntress, holding his hands palms up in a sign of caution, making his way as slowly as his heart would allow him to, given the sight of a fellow human for the first time in weeks.

 

[Kylea]

Coming to a fast halt at the road she saw the entire caravan of beasts and men, attempting to protect their trades from the oncoming stampede. One man in particular stood out from the rest. His colorful demeanor and fancy costume catching her eye. He was walking towards her, seemingly untouched and unfazed by the craze of the surrounding herd. Unsure if he be man or demon she took up her bow and notched an arrow, aimed straight for the regale stranger's chest. He bore the livery of the queen she could see as he came closer, but still she was weary of his appearance on a so little traveled road. As he came closer Aretor could see that this was no simple bow. It was made out of pure oak sapling, the wood carved with delicate and incredibly intricate gold and silver leafing. It appeared to have a sort of rounded pulley system at the top, to someone of scientific intellect it may appear that the device helped with the range of the weapon, creating greater power from a shorter pull by the archer. Laced among the carefully etched vines with small ornate flowers and leaves, each painstaking painted to the perfect hue. The arrow itself a dark cherry wood with a heavy iron head. It had colorful tails the coiled softly around Nienna's muscular arm. She smiled wickedly as he approached. She would feel much less pain taking the life of a human than that of an animal's, she thought to herself. Though there was a certain charm in the way he walked towards her. Confident, strong strides. He took swift steps and was closer than she cared for before she had time to notice. Caught off by the handsome build of her face her strength wavered for but a moment and the bow fell slack in her hands.

She swung the large weapon up onto her back and replaced the arrow in it's quiver deftly. She shifted her weight and took a step back from the approaching man. She was not afraid of him, but did not wish him any closer. She studied him from where he stood. Tall compared to her 4'10" and, though colorful, quite well dressed for someone of such apparent young age. Though his flesh was taught his eyes bespoke of age and experience. She was drawn into them alluringly. Her violet eyes searching for some clue as to what he might want with her.

By now the herd had moved completely past the man's traveling party and they were left to sort through the wreckage and build back up before moving on. Standing some hundred feet from the rest of the party on the edge of the forest, she stood ready to flee if his intentions turned sour.

 

[Shadows Beckon]

The sight of her knocking an arrow to her bow did nothing to phase Aretor, it merely prompted him to move his arms to a more open position as he continued towards her, showing no sign that he either feared her arrow or would resist her firing a shaft through his chest. A portion of this confidence was of course born from Aretor's trust in his own enchanted armor to stop any projectile, or at least save his life should it actually prove capable of wounding him. But as she lowered her bow his smile broadened and he dropped his arms to his side as he strode the last few yards towards her, standing on the slope of the hill so that despite his height they were roughly eye level. "I mean you no harm or offense," He began in a commanding tenor voice (Though thickly accented to her ears), "I am a traveler and explorer, from beyond the Dragon's Spine," he paused to point towards the snowy peaks lost amongst the haze to the east, "Do you understand me?" He wasn't at all sure if they would speak the same language, and despite her somewhat . . . untamed appearance, her bow showed intricate and detailed craftsmanship, and he given that he was not about to write her (and whomever she had come from) as savages.

His attention was momentarily distracted by the growl of his sharani as they returned to the cart in triumph over their kill, one of the creatures the which had appeared with the woman, and he smiled somewhat sheepishly as he realized they must have interrupted her hunting of the beasts. As he turned back towards her, he was more attentive to both the suspicious she displayed openly towards him, but also that they in no way detracted from her beauty, her dark hair with it's exotic highlights, and violet eyes like nothing he had ever seen in his homeland. She was clearly a strong and athletic individual, and he allowed his eyes a moment's diversion from her own for the chance to take in all of her alluring, outlandish appearance.

 

[Kylea]

His thick accent caught her by surprise. It wasn't she ran into and Eastern born lad round these parts. She smiled secretly when he asked if she understood. She toyed with the idea of not letting on that she could perfectly correspond with him. His searched her up and down, though slyly it was obvious to her hunting instincts that he found her attractive. The slight sparkle that gleamed in his eye as he watched her toned body with hungry glances. She took advantage of the distraction to allow herself the same brazen view. Taking in his masculine curvature and powerful stance. This man was obviously someone of importance, and someone who had seen struggles in his life. The way he held his head up and shoulders back meant that he lacked no confidence in his position.

The sharani had taken her kill. She was not sure yet whether she would continue following the herd. She had been on them some number of days now and was growing weary of chasing them. This final dash of her hopes was proving almost too much, even to her strong character. Nienna's nostrils flared as the heavy scent of blood filled the air. Taking in a deep breath she could also smell the man before her. He was not nervous of her presence even though she had aimed for his heart. This caught her slightly off guard. But a slight shake of her head and she was back to her senses. His unwavering stance made the decision for her, she felt she could at least do him the kindness of speaking in his tongue.

"I do understand." Was all she let slip. Her voice was warm and fluid. Even in the cold air it rang clear with a sense of authority. Her pronunciation was flawless, but a slight roll to her R, defied her lack of practice with the words. Her hand rested casually upon her waist, settling on the silver handle of her blade. One hip cocked to the side as she relaxed her body. Though is appeared she was warming up to the man, she was just as on edge and prepared to attack as she ever had been. A small pink point of tongue darted out to lick her thick red lips. They had gotten dry in harsh climate and she without her wax. She allowed herself and open smile, one side of her mouth titling up slightly higher than the other. Her face softening as her eyes smiled with her mouth.

 

[Shadows Beckon]

Aretor's smile was quickly renewed as he heard her words, spoken with an accent of her own, but still perfectly understandable. "Then it is my great honor to meet you," He said, bowing elegantly in the fashion of the courts, "I am Aretor, son of Arethir, agent of the Most Majestic Dowager Empress, and am on an expedition hear to the Western Wilderness in an effort by her majesty to bring them more fully within the boon that is her rule." A rather formal speech, but then he had been mulling over in his mind what exactly he would say to anyone he met since the pass over the mountains. "It is my hope that we might establish trade and a dialgoue with your people, and my caravan and I have brought gifts and goods if you would be so kind as to lead us to them." It was a moment after speaking that Aretor realized he might be getting a bit ahead of himself, especially when he took stock of the manner in which she was standing, half gawking, half appraising him and with her hand at her sword seemingly still just as ready to defend herself, or even attack him for the sport of it. He had to admit after all that he had ruined whatever hunt she was on.

Taking off his wide brimmed hat to reveal his auburn curls, he held it to his chest as he cleared his throat. "But please, first I would know your name, and offer whatever recompense I can for your quarry which our Sharani are currently disposed towards." He said these words sincerely, no longer with the stilted, practice air, the ambassadorial tone he had used for his initial introduction. His green eyes took in her stance and posture more keenly, and he was forced to wonder if she wasn't toying with him in some manner, whether she knew more than her brief speech would suggest, or if she was simply biding her time to see what this babbling easterner wanted. For all he knew, she was just a distraction while the rest of her kind prepared to ambush and loot his caravan. But these thoughts didn't trouble him, he had well thought out the possibility that any and all that they met in the Western Wilds might be hostile towards them, and he was as prepared to fight for his life and his mission as he was to die for them. In seeing her smile though, the way her whole beautiful visage softened in smiling at him he came to the conclusion that even if violence and hostility were part of life here, this woman meant him no harm at the present.

 

[Kylea]

(I was beginning to wonder hehehe)

The man was a talker, that was most certain. Although she was well versed in the Eastern speech she was largely out of practice with a native speaker and had to think over several of the words he had used in his eloquent litany. Smiling deeper as he looked her over when he was done speaking she couldn't help but return the gaze. She looked him over again as he removed his hat. His hair as curly as hers but much closer to his head. She couldn't help but laugh inwardly at the situation, though she showed no hint of it on her face safe a slight sparkle in her eye. His body was well formed and his face sincerely attractive now that she could see it fully. His features so much softer and handsome then the men of her clan. She resisted the urge to reach out and feel his soft looking flesh with her fingertips, rubbing the knob at the end of her sword to occupy her hand, the other clenching in a fist, and relaxing. When he spoke again he asked her name and apologized for the loss of her hunt. In the moment she had almost forgotten about her stolen kill.

She though about his requests as she stood observing him keenly. He was bold and obviously not afraid of her, although he showed some reserve, apparently aware of her hand placement. 'He wants to meet my people', she thought to herself. 'That would be, mmm, interesting.' She let a slight chuckle escape her throat as her internal laughter bubbled outwards. Clearing her throat in an effort to cover it she spoke to him again.

"My name is Nienna. I am daughter to the Al'Tikaer tribe. We have no homeland. As for your queen, we are most familiar with her already." She pondered how much to let him know, biting her tongue before she rambled on further unthinkingly. She was excited to hear her own voice utter the foreign tongue, it felt strange in her mouth but elating. She took a step forward, more into the light radiating through the thick canopy of trees towering above their heads. In the light it could be seen that her hair was in fact not black, but a combination of all colors. Deep red hues highlighted her hair, as well as dark brown and occasionally a light blonde strip, hidden within the depth of her curls. The light shone bright on her face as her deeply tanned skin glowed against the suns rays. She looked up into his eyes, he was so much taller and broader. She stopped walking a mere foot or two outside his reach, realizing with some amount of shock that she had gotten so close without noticing.

"As for my...re-com-pense," she sounded it out slowly. Though she was unsure of what it meant she assumed he was referring to the lizard like beasts that were now devouring the very animal she had wanted for her own, and how he intended to trade her for the loss. "Let me see what gift you bring to my people and I will decide if you are worthy to follow me. Though it is on my honor to warn you that we are not so close to them as you might think." She bit back again. Recognizing that she had just given away the fact that she was on her own and removed from her people. Her body though remained unmoved and her faced betrayed no emotion beyond the twisted smile painted across her striking face.

 

[Shadows Beckon]

It was quite a shock to Aretor that this woman and her tribe might already know of his queen, but then it was entirely possible that if they were nomadic, as she made them sound, they might visit the Eastern Realm to trade and barter. Prior to his journey he had not known what rumors and legends to trust surrounding the Wilds, but now here he was confronted with a fable, travelers from the west who made their homes beyond the reach of civilization. He nodded as she spoke, his eyes peering at her with intent curiosity, as he marveled both at her eloquence for one not native to his tongue. If she could speak in the dialect of the west, it made him all the more interested that he might perhaps learn her own language, and such a step would certainly be important to building closer ties with her people. Her words and her story were every bit as intriguing as her appearance which up close was all the more exotic to his eyes. The way her hair shimmered with a myriad of hues and the way her skin seemed to the retain the radiance of the sun itself was unknown to him, as the style of the courts dictated pointedly fair and pale flesh, distinguishing them from the common folk.

This woman appeared anything but common to his eyes however, and as she she requested to see his caravan, his face lit up in a bright smile and he gestured towards where a few of his expedition were restoring order to his cart. "Please, follow me I will show you what the Queen offers and we may discuss what steps can be made for future relations." Those around the cart were Aretor's own men, those who had remained with him following the siege and become officers in the Queen's ranks, but each was as able and had skills of their own. Each one wore sturdy leather armor, green and studded with brass and a decorated scale motif as was the uniform of the Dowager's troops, an each one wore a mask and helm their weapons stowed for now in the cart. As Aretor and Nienna approached, they paused in their work to gawk at her until Aretor cleared his throat and with a curt gesture returned them to their duties. He certainly did not want her to think them green or so undisciplined as to stare in wonder at every new phenomena. As ambassador and a magister, that was his job.

"Nienna," Aretor repeated the named before continuing, turning to look at her. "You said your people are familiar with the Dowager, but you reside here in the Western lands beyond her rule. Is there some reason for this?" He asked as they approached the cart and rounded behind it, Aretor pushing aside the drapery to reveal many chests, crates and barrels of various shapes and sizes.

 

[Kylea]

She couldn't help but smile as the men of his group watched her approach. It had been some time since she had been around so many from the city. She must have looked outrageous, or so she thought to herself. As one of the chosen from the tribe she had been privileged enough to have ventured several times for communications with the state. Though as an ambassador she had worn very different garb then her scantily clad hunting gear. She always hunted light to be swift as the animals she chased. Aretor cleared his throat and they all checked their stares and turned back to their work, though their hands moved, she could feel their eyes still following her.

When he said her name she nearly gasped. It sounded beautiful on his foreign tongue. She was not used to those outside her people saying it and it came off slightly different in his mouth, deeper and more from his throat then her tongue. His question though caught her off. She assumed if he was in the Queen's guard that he must know of the festival. Had it not been announced that they were to perform. Her troubled thoughts quickly vanished as he revealed his wears. Casks and crates. Boxes and bags. His caravan was overly stuffed with goods of all kinds.

She collected her tongue from the floor and looked at him a moment. Eying him up and down, wondering exactly what it was he might truly be after. "This is an immaculate supply for one so young and so far from home. What was it you said you were doing out here in the wild west? Haven't you heard the tales of wild folk and dragons?" She wanted to see how much he knew before she answered his question. She did not want to betray her tribes information into unworthy hands. Their secretive existence had been a key factor for their long survival after so many years. Although they did business and worked for the city folk, their lives depended on the magic of the forest. Without they would all perish for certain.

Even from a young age the children were told tales of roaming travelers, said to be merchants or otherwise, who would collect young beauties from their tribe and haul them away never to be seen again. She did not intend to wind up and unwilling victim. She tensed for a moment, but his eyes seemed to kind. She struggled to maintain her hard stance even though she suddenly felt on edge.

 

[Shadows Beckon]

Aretor laughed heartily as she questioned him regarding his presence, speaking of the same rumors and legends which had kept so many beyond the reach of the mountains. "It is true, before departing I did much investigation and research into tales of the Western Wilds." He countered as he began to unpack crates and barrels from within the wagon, mostly dry goods and sundries, "But apart from wild stories, and campfire tales and mothers scaring children to sleep, was able to come up with little evidence to support such talk." Turning he looked her full in the eyes and arched his brow as his eyes took on a slight steel to them. "And I am not a man to accept idle talk for truth." Before turning back he laughed somewhat cheekily and disappearing behind a stack of crates into the depths of the wagon.

"As I said before," he called back out from out of view, "We are here, to better secure the Wilds for her Dowager Majesty, and establish rule of law and civility throughout these lands." Aretor spoke the words with conviction, and did firmly believe in the nobility of what he was doing. "Not to belittle your homelands, only that the Dowager is that much most interested in secure trade and mutual benefit." Despite his humble origins, Aretor had grown quite used to the language of the courts and keeping politically neutral in his speech. An agent of the Dowager was required to master the language of diplomats and courtiers, but then this woman was not a proper diplomat herself. He had something, something he had requested particular to secure amongst the other supplies, something that had taken a great deal of influence in the courts to secure.

Stepping down and out from the wagon, he produced a largish cylindrical package with a red satin sheet covering it. Carrying it carefully, he set it down upon the ground between them smiling. "You have not answered my question though. Why do your people not make formal connections with the Dowagers court?"

 

[Kylea]

She couldn't help but chuckle as he spoke of of campfire and children's tales. She had heard them as well growing up. Stories of dragons roaming the skies and torturing children or eating them alive all in one fiery bite. His words were so elegant. He spoke with such regal form she admired his lingual skills, far beyond her own she felt. Even if this had been his birth language she still had felt she had a reasonable grasp of understanding, some of the words he spoke today though were beyond her understanding.

She smiled as he exited the wagon again, carrying a large strangely shaped package. The red satin was intriguing, as if it tempted her to reach out and explore. His form just as enticing as she watched him move around with ease. For a city man he seemed well aware of his body and how to use it efficiently. She stayed very quiet while he spoke, hoping to catch everything he said and be in understanding of what it was he wanted from her.

He asked again regarding their connection to the Queen. She smirked and shrugged. Her bare shoulders shifting up and down against her heavy bow. "We are not a formal people." She said as simply as possible. It was clear he would want more, but she did not know how to explain it. She did not wish to reveal to much, did not want him to know that they were fearful of the monarchies abuse and that they figured joining the rest of the world at their knees at her feet was like stepping backwards in their history. Long before the Al'tikaer people had in fact been the royal subject loyal hunters, and mages. They had worked side by side with the city wonders and helped to conquest much of the land now under the current Queen's control with their savage weaponry skills. Taking on the tactic of guerilla warfare and surprising thousands of unsuspecting enemy troops.

She shivered at the imprinted memory deep in her psyche. She had been told by the wise woman that she herself had led a charge in a previous life, that had helped to turn the tides of war. Her spirit that day had been marked as head hunter of the tribe earning her a place of respect for eternity. Now it seemed she may be destined for more...