OOC: More histories of the Srys, for the 5, obviously insane, Keska fans.
Srys ai chi syki-sry ni tiknki-littk
(Srys is the brightest light and greatest energy)
Kes ut-hak ai zthi Ikkl-shikin
(No shadows can exist in his presence)
Keskmak sin srynzi hullnk-Ik
(The things that cast shadows are burnt before him)
A gentle finger traced the seams of silver and white armor, as if afraid and disbelieving of the beauty found in the pure, polished, gleaming metals. Exotic and rare, silver plate like a knight; alien to the northwestern forests. Silver bells hung on a silken soft belt of white cloth, and quietly chimed in pure, light notes as the belt slowly came undone. Gently, the hand traced its way along the graceful, long lines of a tan-skinned neck, along a firmly set jaw, which gently broke into a smile, and offered the hand a kiss. Slowly the hand reached around to brush away a lock of unruly sandy-yellow hair from a delicately pointed ear, which was promptly kissed, bring a smile from its owner.
'Mkkkt-shya," A deep, golden toned voice rumbled quietly. "I cannot believe I was kept away so long.'
A gentle smile, 'I would have waited longer for you, my wild warrior."
Blissful grins echoed each other as a young elven couple sank deeper in to the soft green underbrush. The dark-haired girl's finger now traced the strange lines and symbols in bright yellows, reds, and white on the forehead of the fair-haired man.
'Forgive me, Shya, I hurried back so quickly I did not wipe the symbols of war from my face.'
The finger traced a perfect circle of white in the center of the man's forehead.
'What does this one mean, Kini?'
He smiled, and gently closed his broad hand around hers. 'Srys.'
'Ahh... your tribe?' She peered at him intently, curiosity and then, as his face went serious, concern that she had some how stumbled on some strange taboo wild-elf subject. 'You do not have to explain if..'
'No, mkkkt-shya, I am merly looking for a way to explain...' that was her dear Kinickkth, not so eloquent with words. 'Srys... the beginning, all, the creation force, all that is light and energy, it all comes from Him, his eye and being in the Sun. I am His crusader.'
The circle on his forehead seemed to glow for an instant, probably just the way the waning sunlight of evening gently dappled him with light peeking through the leaves. Beautiful and hers...
*mine... oh warrior, crusader mine... you will be mine, forever*
The east darkened towards night, matching the inky black hair of the of the young elf maid. On the eastern horizon, darkness, and tempting power of great abundance rose... yet invisible to so many.
*So sad how so many are blind to your magisty and power my mistress*
*tonight, this one will see you*
Gently the woman traced the ornamental marks of red and yellow on the man's strong, bare, forearm. Silently she pressed her hand on a spot where no painted design was drawn.
*you will be mine forever, Drakkara promises me this, my love*
She whispered the sweetly seductive words of a spell, and a small blue flame projected from her hand, and on to his skin. Kinickkth jumped up and grasped his arm in pain. Moving his hand away he gasped in horror at the black mark on his arm, a symbol of the black moon.
'Merinana, shya, what is this?!' He stood in confusion, gaping at his arm in terror.
'Why, my mark... you are mine forever, Drakkara has promised it!' she looked at the nervous wild-elf, pleadingly, in confusion.
'Witchcraft!'
'Not witchcraft, my love, a promise, a bond to my goddess.' Her dark eyes threatened to tear up in frightened frustration.
'Drukkmakkkit!' He drew his sword weakly, it pulsed and raced with energy as he stood, indecisive and confused, calling on his strange god. Then his eyes went dark, and he glared at her, as if seeing the woman he had lain with for the first time.
'You...' his voice shook with rage, horror, and a strange sadness, 'you... are drow.'
Merinana stood, helpless to defend herself for her deceptive actions. She was indeed part drow-elf, had he not noticed this before? Of course there was the small matter of the weak charm spell, but it had be out of caution when they first met in the woods... before.
*just a weak spell, when we first met, it did nothing, really*
*I truly love him... I think... I must, Drakkara has promised him to me*
Tenitivly she spoke in a soothing voice that could calm animals, and hopefully wild-elves too. Calling the small charm spell to mind...
*no, I must know if he really loves me*
'Yes, my father is a noble from the drow city, Tak'urta, just south of here...'
'Your demon father...' he spoke sternly, eyes burning through her.
She looked at him hopefully, '...but my mother came from the Cat River tribe in the...'
'Cat River? Kkutk! Cat River beds with drukkmai... drow? Or are you the unfortunate mistake of a drukkmai warrior's lust?' he snarled, both threatening, and giving away his fear.
"My parents love each other! They were bonded under Drakkara, in magic and love! Like us!' She thrust her hand out toward him, it bore a mark matching the symbol she had placed on his arm.
Kinickkth stood still, griping his sword absently at his side, holding his hand over the black mark on his swordarm.
'Cat River beds with darkness.' he whispered, and called to his horse.
"Kini, wait, please let me explain.'
'Silence, drukkmai temptress.' His voice shook with fury and a deep sadness. He unsteadily mounted his horse, his armor and tiny silver bells clanging and chiming as he trembled.
'Please!' She sobbed as he galloped off in to the dark forest, hoof beats pounding and bells chiming strange alien chords, 'Please, I really do love you.'
'Sister, sister Merinana, wake! Something has happened, you must get up.'
Urgent words arose Merinana from a fitful sleep. She opened her eyes to the comfortable darkness of her bed chamber, and the thin form of her older brother, Tryzeler.
'Oh Tryz, I’ve had the most terrible...' she nearly broke down, ready to tell him everything, and be comforted by his wise words.
'Not now, it will get worse, please, there are wounded, they need all the clerics they can find.'
'What?' She sprung out of bed, and quickly followed his robbed form out her chamber door, and through their expansive underground home. 'Are we under attack?'
'No.' He lead her outside the First House, and she saw mayhem gone insane.
Gathered in the stone cavern that made their home's courtyard were nearly a hundred elves, huddled, crying, and some bleeding and dying. Clerics hurried through the crowd uttering words to the gods of darkness for the strenght to cure the wounded. The forms of the refugees were twisted and sickly in the pale blue light that came from the magic torches that hung from the walls of the courtyard cavern of the Tak'urta home of the first family.
Merinana surveyed the crowd, and quickly stooped down the check the nearest sick elven refugee. Horror swept through her as she recognized the battered face of the elf.
'Tryzeler...' her voice cracked as she whispered to her brother, and treated the elf in a professional manner.
'Yes, sister, Cat River.' His voice calm and frank, only the sightest bit of hate and anger hidden deep in it.
'Mother?'
'Missing, presumed dead. She stayed to fight them they say.' Remorse hidden deep within.
'Who? The dwarves, not.. the yinn dogs? Doesn't tribe Srys patrol the lands up there? Is not Cat River under their protection?'
'Not any more, apparently.' A strong voice broke into the conversation, 'as it appears it was the Srys who destroyed the village.'
The lord weaponsmaster scowled darkly, a huge man, dark-haired and skinned, he was a powerful warrior and leader of the city's militia. He thrust a parchment in to Tryzeler's hands.
'What is this?' Tryzeler asked, eyeing the page carefully.
'A copy of a carving we found in a burnt tree in the middle of...' he paused briefly, 'the ruins of Cat River village. It's that blasted Srys gibberish they call a language, I can't make heads or tails of it.”
Merinana slowly tended the wounded victims, noting that, strangely, most of the wound were caused by burning. Tryzeler stood nearby, thoughtfully considering the bizarre and twisted elven dialect spoken by the powerful, and at one time reclusive, tribe.
'You should see it,' the powerful weaponsmaster related the details to the two half-Cat River elves, 'they burnt _everything_ like a massive explosion of hellfire blasted the entire village. I have no idea what could have set the Srys off like this, they are dangerous and self- righteous from all reports, but give 'em a few gold 'tribute', smiled and nod at their false god, and they normally let you by...'
'It is just a simple warning,' Tryzeler spoke softly, and the weaponsmaster raised an eyebrow, and Merinana paused a moment from healing. 'To all under Srysmai... jurisdiction, their 'vassals', not to... bed with darkness. Apparently Cat River is an example of Srys' sun god's displeasure.'
Tryzeler and the weaponsmaster frowned at each other. 'Just, how much of this territory do they pretend to claim anyhow?' Tryzeler asked the warrior tenitivly.
'As near as anyone can figure all from the edge of Shalonesti vallenwoods in the south, and all of the northwest to the hills, and then even some of the hill dwarven mines.'
'Then that includes this city.' Tryzeler sighed, and stated the obvious, terrifying, truth quietly. The weaponsmaster nodded.
'Take some of the mages into the woods surrounding the entrances, and set up alarms and wards.' The master ordered Tryzeler, 'in this case, the more obvious, the better. They are powerful, but superstitious as all hell, they hate and fear magicks.'
Tryzeler nodded, and quickly his dark robes disappeared in to the dismal, underground, city.
Merinana looked up from the young Cat River elf she was tending, 'What now?' She shivered, horrified and speechless at the last few hours events. Thinking of the horrors done to her mother's... her own once beautiful tribe.
'War. The heretic Srysmai think they serve the Sun's light, but we will see that they only serve the Gods of Darkness and War.' The weaponsmaster strode off looking over the crowd for hopeful warriors to join him on his quest to crush the Srys.
Merinana slowly clenched her fist, the palm of which bore the symbol of the Dark Moon, perfectly matching the mark on the arm of a Srysmai Crusader.
... and this episode is done.