The Last Atlantean (kaybee & ink)

[passionate ink]

Prologue - The Sunken Kingdom.

The blustering waves had died away but the air still was heavy with soot and ashes that veiled sun and moon alike.
Flotsam and corpses were washed up the craggy coast, day after day, and the scavengers feasted on them - human and beast alike.
Only few shed tears for the men and women of Atlantis who had been dragged to the ground of the sea by the Sunken, the old rulers of the depth. Dragged down with their entire, glorious island kingdom by the very creatures whose idols they had worshiped.
Ripped from the face of the earth to serve their abhorrent, squid-faced god and his fish-like spawn down in the abyss until the day the waves would die and the sea turned red.
But hardly a men shed a tear for Atlantis for they had been viewed with envy and loathing by many. The envy and loathing with witch inferior creatures used to look upon a superior race. And superior the Atlanteans had been to their fellow men. Strong in will and fair in appearance they had been; sly politicians and shrewd merchants, gifted artists and wise scholars, brave warriors and daring sailors. They had been famous for their conquests and exploits and feared and respected by even the most powerful nations of the known world.
The virtue of the Atlanteans and their culture had been a beacon of light in a age of darkness but the light had been extinguished in a cataclysm of molten stone and quaking ground. No pious prayers, no great sacrifices and no curses had helped the the day when the Sunken had decided to sink Atlantis.
A maelstorm now raged where the waves had devoured mountainous island like the scornful laughter of the gods who had been defied by the Atlanteans.
The last bulwark of light had fallen in less than a day, sunk without trace, and left only corpses and flotsam and a feeling of gree behind in whoever heard the tidings.

People felt little sympathy for the dead. Men, women, children - even the sheep they sent to their dank graves in filthy songs sung in the gloomy taverns all over the archaic ports. Soon those songs would be bawled out farther inland. Soon the city states subjugated and protected by the basileios of Atlantis would revolt or be sacked by all those who had been casting a covetous eye on the treasures of those favored by the island kingdom.
The demise of every last of the Atlanteans was celebrated with ale, whores and meat where ever the tale was told but as soon as last corpse was devoured by the carrion feeders and the last flotsam was looted and put to gold people would begin to forget about Atlantis's terrible fate for kingdoms rose and fell, not matter who glorious or corrupt, how beloved or despised. Fate had decided to wipe Atlantis and her people from the face of earth...
But often fate smiles her wicked smile for those who have lost everything and sends them even more peril.
This is the story of Arys Tenebrim, the last of the Atlantean.

 

[Kaybee]

The weight of a sword was one that she would never have thought she would be used to and yet it had become a comfort to feel the heft of steel hang at her hip. The sound of the wilderness around her, the smell of the clean air, fresh from the forest. Before the fall of her nation, the desparate flight and the slow realization over the past years that she alone of her people remained alive Arys would have thought all these familiarities mad but in looking back at those times a sword suddenly didn't seem nearly so strange.

Not compared to what she had been through, learning to fight, learning to survive outside of the city she had grown up in.

The warrior sighed wistfully as she recalled those happier days before shaking her head. The forest was alive with the sounds of nature but there was no reason for her to drop her guard. At first she had let herself wander without thought and she had been ambushed by bandits for her trouble, luck alone saving her from death or worse at their hands. She had taught herself to be constantly vigilant, to look upon everyone with suspicion, on the trail, in the village. Sometimes it seemed as though fate had made it's mission to torment her for escaping alone from Atlantis, for choosing to live on and make her ancestors proud rather than die as the rest of her kin had done.

The village cannot be far now Arys thought, picking up the pace. Within the village she could relax somewhat, she possessed a few coins to exchange for a room and should that fail then she could always see to whatever problems they could have her deal with as an alternate exchange. Wandering monsters and beasts were a constant problem to small settlements such as these and something could often be won by slaying them after all.

 

[passionate ink]

Chop! The brazen blade of his ax split the huge log in half as if it had been nothing more than a ripe pumpkin. Chop! The blade came down on another log and sent its parts flying on the soft forest floor that was already covered with billet of woods.
Chop! The sounds of the man's work echoed from the surrounding trees startling birds and wildlife alike.

He was naked safe from a pair of for boots and some kind of leather apron, wrapped around his loins.
Huge muscles worked beneath ebon skin that was glistening from the sweat of a hard day's work in the rays of sun which fell through the lush, green canopy.
The long, felted hair was bound to a pony tail at the back of the man's neck, his face was covered by a short beard.

Chop! Every strike of the ax was accompanied by deep grunt. Chop! The pile of firewood became higher and higher. Chop!
He came to this place, a few miles away from the village, every morning. One day he cut fire wood, the other day he'd bring down some of the big trees for those who needed wood to build housing or crude furniture.
The gigantic, dark-skinned man loved this place. Aside from the birds' ruckus, the song of his ax and his occasional whistle the woods were a place of piece and quietness. He appreciated that.
Chop! Every once in a while a stray beast would find his solitary place in the woods but they always ran or ended like the bulky bear some steps away - with a skull split like the logs.

Iumbi tried not to think about the short, intense fight. Bloodshed, as well as hard work, always stirred the man's own blood and there was nobody in miles he could impale on the spear, awakening beneath his apron. As so often before he would have to make use of his hands and shed his hot seed on the forest floor.
Mother Gaia always graciously accepted his cum like a hungry whore. Sadly, she wasn't half as loud or warm...

 

[Kaybee]

The dull sound of steel meeting wood reached Arys' ears, a steady rhythm that aroused a curiosity within her. Turn after turn upon the forest path had proven the village was some ways yet to travel and while woodsmen were not uncommon, few of them dared to venture so far from the safety that their homes granted them in these wild parts.

It must be one with a guard, or a group of them. She thought, looking off through the trees towards where the sound could be heard. Practicality told her to simply continue on, to make haste that darkness not fall before she reach the village gates, but that curiosity still ran through her mind. She heard no conversation, no jests nor the sound of many axes. There was nothing more than the steady swing of a single blade, striking blow after blow.

Caution still held the reins of the Atlantean woman's mind as she drew her blade, the steel making nothing but a soft hiss as it left it's sheath. Raising it in guard, Arys took a step off the trail towards the sounds, taking what care she could to make no noise in her movements. Peering over a small thicket, she was greeted at last with the sight of a man alone, a great bear of a man whose powerful body drew her eyes, muscles that rippled beneath deep brown skin, beads of sweat tracing his form, uncovered save for an apron that shielded his front from splinters and detritus of his craft.

Slowly Arys let out a deep breath, feeling something stir within her at the unique sight. She had never seen a man like this one, never a man who radiated the same strength as she faintly recalled of her people, a recollection that made it all the harder for the Atlantean woman to tear her eyes from him.

 

[passionate ink]

A bunny scattered over the clearing towards a group of bushes.
Something was wrong! Working alone in the woods Iumbi soon had learned to be be vigilante. Due to the loud noise of the man's daily work birds were of little help to determine danger by their behavior but the rabbits, hiding in the brushes, were. If they left their hiding place then there was something that terrified them more than the sound of the huge, black man chopping wood. A bear, a boar or something even worse...
And so the man knew that he wasn't alone anymore long before he heard the breath.
It hadn't been that loud but the man's senses were as sharp as his muscles were strong.

Shouldering his ax Iumbi took a few steps towards the brush from where the breath had come.
"Come out," he called in his deep, booming voice, "before I come and get you." His dark eyes were restless. He appeared to be completely focused on the brush but he knew if there was one human there might be a second and a third, hiding behind his back.
But the man didn't care. Life was short, anyways, and he craved a good fight almost as badly as a woman.

His muscles tightened as he made a few swings with his axe. The crude tool hadn't been created to be weapon but in his strong hands it became one if needed.
Iumbi could feel his blood begin to boil in his veins. He took a deep breath and laughed.
"Are you that afraid of Iumbi to remain in hiding? Come our already!"

He stood there, his stance showing both his massive proportions and his readiness for battle. His dark skin glistened with sweat and his white teeth shone scornfully.

 

[Kaybee]

Arys tensed at the sudden change in the man's demeanour, freezing in her hiding place. Her eyes alone moved, scanning over him from the shadows, the warrior within noting the power within his muscles, the way his stance left him open from the back, the way he hefted the woodcutting tool as a weapon with disturbing ease. More disturbing than that however was the laugh, the mad laugh she had heard before, the laugh of those who revel in a battle. She had met others who had been the same way, they had laughed and laughed, their eyes shining with madness as they hewed flesh as easily as paper, some of them even turning on their fellows before the battle-lust finally left them.

"Are you that afraid of Iumbi to remain in hiding? Come our already!"

The tension snapped at the words and Arys sprang from the bush, leading with steel in a strike that curved upwards from the forest floor. The challenge had been issued, the insult to her strength given without recollection. This was battle in it's purest form, the most delicate dance where a single misstep would mean death.

 

[passionate ink]

With a wide grin Iumbi looked at his opponent. Like an angry wolverine she had jumped out of the brushes, ready to meet him in battle.
Although not small, the woman was a great deal smaller like the black, axe-wielding giant with his almost seven feet of height and probably no match in strength. Still, the man wouldn’t make the mistake to underestimate her.
He had fought enough battles to know that speed and dexterity could easily make up for a lack of strength and the stranger seemed to possess both as well as a great deal of self-confidence.
Her hot temper, however, could come in handy.

Lowering his tool and weapon Iumbi laughed out, pretending not to take his opponent too seriously.
“What a puny, little creature do we have here?” he taunted the stranger. “Fierce perhaps, but still no match for a great man like Iumbi.”
He took a step closer towards the woman. The sunrays, falling through the canopy of leaves, made the sweat on his dark skin glisten as it ran down his huge muscles.

Even though a little scruffy the woman didn’t look like a common thief and more like an adventuress, but Iumbi wouldn’t take any chances. He could find out who she was after he had separated her from that cruel piece of metal in her hands. They would look better wrapped around his spear than around the hilt of that foreign sword of hers, anyways.

Ready to counter any attack the man taunted the stranger one more time.
“Come on, then,” he said in his deep voice. “Show me what you’ve got, little woman.”