Terrance888
Discord Reigns
Monster is a curious word.
Them who strike across the lines,
Oft find that Hero is but a synonym.
She breathed softly now.
Worrysome, but one mustn’t show it. It began after the attack on the human reef, and grievous blow from the shouting deer-king. The ways of men are hard to understand for the humble serpent-ram. But it was no mere serpent-ram. It was the Great Serpent-Ram, Nathrom, he of bright scales that dazzles and humbles the humans. But even his scales showed scars from that day, a day of blood and terror.
And even Nathrom did not have dreams such that a human does, for even the greatest human does not have dream such as that of a god. He could only wait for her fevered dreams to pass. But now, these dreams appeared different, for she no longer fought the dream-weeds every night, it seemed. After the battle, a new dream-foe beset her, one that rendered her a limp, breathing corpse. A foe that is beyond his very comprehension and aid... So he watches her breathing slowly, trying to not worry - for if he worries, she will worry.
Yet she worried.
There are many things she could be worried about. She could be worried about the unhealing blow under her ribs, struck by the Carnish King. She could be worried about the once-smooth scales of Nathrom, now marred and scarred by great fear and force. She could be worried by the whispers in the wind, whispers that she knew, grew louder and harsher every night. She could be worried at the blood that no longer washed clean from her palms. And indeed, these worries still dwelled, waiting for her return to wakefulness. But no, these are not her worries.
Now, she is worried about her dreams.
She has many dreams. The meaningless dreams from Before. The cherished dreams of the Before. Dreams she has taken in her quest. But her dreams, her real dreams used to be full of terror and battle. A bloody mirror of her wakeful hours, the spilled blood showed her the way. And onwards she had hunted, until she found the sea.
That was the first time they changed, when the horizon appeared, and fled from her, and she chased it. Night. After night. After night. She could see what she imagined to be a premonition, a wide band of destruction stretching horizon to horizon, before her to behind her, showing her the way.
No, even this did not worry her, for her quest brought her far, and her quest brought her closer. She could taste it in the dreams she has taken along the way.
What worried her was that they changed yet again.
The dreams were green instead of red, a color of life instead of death. The sky shone a bright blue, the sea a dark yet respectful reflection. There was no blood, there was no destruction, but there was fear. A dark familiar fear, and distant weights on the horizon, like stalking thunderstorms.
She was worried because she did not understand her dreams anymore, and if she does not understand, she will be lost. She was worried even to claim more dreams, if this act would disrupt the tranquillity forced upon her in a manner most displeasing. Displeasing to whom, she dared not wonder.
So she worried, and she slept, and she woke briefly to eat, and to groom Nathrom, and to curse and nurse her wound, and to gaze dully at the horizon until sleep overtakes her once more. And she traveled too, although she had little to no awareness of it, clinging onto the slick horns of the Great Serpent-Ram, traveling whilst her mind wandered elsewhere.
Nathrom himself wondered little for the days she decided to depart. He could smell her wounds, and danger, and had charted a wide course around the human reefs ahead. Faintly, he would feel the shifting of her toes on his scales, and he would adjust course slightly - she had always knew where to go, where to find their goal.
And for now, she slept, breathing softly, in a hidden cove.
Nearby, others awaken. Unlike her, their paths were more sure. Like her, they had their worries. They knew what they were looking for - two monsters united, carving a bloody swath through the North and the East, drawing ever closer to their home. Their uncertainty was this - what to do once they found their mark. As tales became trails, they found less death, and more glimpses and fancy, of sparkling scales and stalwart figures framed in the distant sunlight, and of strange gem-like scales found in well hidden coves. And discussion turned from how to confront two deadly killers, to how to confront these travelers, if at all.
But the truth remained that a Carnish King had to have fallen for the High King to rise, and other monsters have tried the discreet approaches before, and that for a Serpent-Ram to have survived the Carnish seas, it must be a monstrous beast, indeed. They must make their own measure of the two, to be sure.
They read the currents and approached the cave carefully. Weapons drawn and readied, out of precaution and experience. Their senses are strong, and they can feel three… no, two presences in the cave. Then one. Then the sea exploded, for he appeared.
Ah, it is difficult to describe the sight of the Great Serpent-Ram’s scales! At once flat and rounded, uniform and scintillating, iridescent and invincible. As the spray stung the eyes, the scales appear to replace the sky, filling the eyes with their light. These were the legendary scales that brought death to so many! These were the hallmarks of Nathrom!
But these travelers were ready. They had listened carefully to the tales and songs, and they could have slain him if they so wished. A missing scale, a sharp arrow, a well timed cut, and a deep thrust. It sounds so simple, when put this way… and they did consider it. But no, they readied a different resolution instead, one learnt from the Udyn serpent charmers along the northern coast.
Jemmi and Alai began a strange dance while the goat-boy chanted*, and it is now Nathrom’s turn to be entranced by this unexpected reaction. Smooth and swift, straight and curling, spinning and leaping, the pair danced and narrated a proposal - they will look into Vyndra’s dreams and find her the path. They were spirit-callers, they explained, and they help those in need.
Jemmi nearly stumbled when Nathrom snorted and leaned in close, head turning to observe them closely, nose flaring to take in their scent. Alai smiled, and placed his hand upon Nathron’s great nose. There they froze for countless moments. He was the epitome of poise and calmness, and as it turned out, trust. For Nathrom retreated and bleated, and his great head pointed towards the entrance of the cave.
There, the three travelers entered cautiously. And there, the three travelers found the supine form of the mad huntress, covered in her blood-stained cloak, breathing softly. Against the wall leaned the red trident, and the white of her mask. And beside her, bloody rags, half cleaned and stinking, drying, to be reapplied when she woke.
Alai could feel it even before he reached Vyndra - it was her dream, a dream more than spirit or fancy, but a dream of sight and the unseen. Whispered questions, of safety and certainty, passed between the companions facing their sleeping target in the flesh. But the answer is now clear - they were here to help, to guide, and perhaps, to learn.
*beatboxing
Them who strike across the lines,
Oft find that Hero is but a synonym.
She breathed softly now.
Worrysome, but one mustn’t show it. It began after the attack on the human reef, and grievous blow from the shouting deer-king. The ways of men are hard to understand for the humble serpent-ram. But it was no mere serpent-ram. It was the Great Serpent-Ram, Nathrom, he of bright scales that dazzles and humbles the humans. But even his scales showed scars from that day, a day of blood and terror.
And even Nathrom did not have dreams such that a human does, for even the greatest human does not have dream such as that of a god. He could only wait for her fevered dreams to pass. But now, these dreams appeared different, for she no longer fought the dream-weeds every night, it seemed. After the battle, a new dream-foe beset her, one that rendered her a limp, breathing corpse. A foe that is beyond his very comprehension and aid... So he watches her breathing slowly, trying to not worry - for if he worries, she will worry.
Yet she worried.
There are many things she could be worried about. She could be worried about the unhealing blow under her ribs, struck by the Carnish King. She could be worried about the once-smooth scales of Nathrom, now marred and scarred by great fear and force. She could be worried by the whispers in the wind, whispers that she knew, grew louder and harsher every night. She could be worried at the blood that no longer washed clean from her palms. And indeed, these worries still dwelled, waiting for her return to wakefulness. But no, these are not her worries.
Now, she is worried about her dreams.
She has many dreams. The meaningless dreams from Before. The cherished dreams of the Before. Dreams she has taken in her quest. But her dreams, her real dreams used to be full of terror and battle. A bloody mirror of her wakeful hours, the spilled blood showed her the way. And onwards she had hunted, until she found the sea.
That was the first time they changed, when the horizon appeared, and fled from her, and she chased it. Night. After night. After night. She could see what she imagined to be a premonition, a wide band of destruction stretching horizon to horizon, before her to behind her, showing her the way.
No, even this did not worry her, for her quest brought her far, and her quest brought her closer. She could taste it in the dreams she has taken along the way.
What worried her was that they changed yet again.
The dreams were green instead of red, a color of life instead of death. The sky shone a bright blue, the sea a dark yet respectful reflection. There was no blood, there was no destruction, but there was fear. A dark familiar fear, and distant weights on the horizon, like stalking thunderstorms.
She was worried because she did not understand her dreams anymore, and if she does not understand, she will be lost. She was worried even to claim more dreams, if this act would disrupt the tranquillity forced upon her in a manner most displeasing. Displeasing to whom, she dared not wonder.
So she worried, and she slept, and she woke briefly to eat, and to groom Nathrom, and to curse and nurse her wound, and to gaze dully at the horizon until sleep overtakes her once more. And she traveled too, although she had little to no awareness of it, clinging onto the slick horns of the Great Serpent-Ram, traveling whilst her mind wandered elsewhere.
Nathrom himself wondered little for the days she decided to depart. He could smell her wounds, and danger, and had charted a wide course around the human reefs ahead. Faintly, he would feel the shifting of her toes on his scales, and he would adjust course slightly - she had always knew where to go, where to find their goal.
And for now, she slept, breathing softly, in a hidden cove.
Nearby, others awaken. Unlike her, their paths were more sure. Like her, they had their worries. They knew what they were looking for - two monsters united, carving a bloody swath through the North and the East, drawing ever closer to their home. Their uncertainty was this - what to do once they found their mark. As tales became trails, they found less death, and more glimpses and fancy, of sparkling scales and stalwart figures framed in the distant sunlight, and of strange gem-like scales found in well hidden coves. And discussion turned from how to confront two deadly killers, to how to confront these travelers, if at all.
But the truth remained that a Carnish King had to have fallen for the High King to rise, and other monsters have tried the discreet approaches before, and that for a Serpent-Ram to have survived the Carnish seas, it must be a monstrous beast, indeed. They must make their own measure of the two, to be sure.
They read the currents and approached the cave carefully. Weapons drawn and readied, out of precaution and experience. Their senses are strong, and they can feel three… no, two presences in the cave. Then one. Then the sea exploded, for he appeared.
Ah, it is difficult to describe the sight of the Great Serpent-Ram’s scales! At once flat and rounded, uniform and scintillating, iridescent and invincible. As the spray stung the eyes, the scales appear to replace the sky, filling the eyes with their light. These were the legendary scales that brought death to so many! These were the hallmarks of Nathrom!
But these travelers were ready. They had listened carefully to the tales and songs, and they could have slain him if they so wished. A missing scale, a sharp arrow, a well timed cut, and a deep thrust. It sounds so simple, when put this way… and they did consider it. But no, they readied a different resolution instead, one learnt from the Udyn serpent charmers along the northern coast.
Jemmi and Alai began a strange dance while the goat-boy chanted*, and it is now Nathrom’s turn to be entranced by this unexpected reaction. Smooth and swift, straight and curling, spinning and leaping, the pair danced and narrated a proposal - they will look into Vyndra’s dreams and find her the path. They were spirit-callers, they explained, and they help those in need.
Jemmi nearly stumbled when Nathrom snorted and leaned in close, head turning to observe them closely, nose flaring to take in their scent. Alai smiled, and placed his hand upon Nathron’s great nose. There they froze for countless moments. He was the epitome of poise and calmness, and as it turned out, trust. For Nathrom retreated and bleated, and his great head pointed towards the entrance of the cave.
There, the three travelers entered cautiously. And there, the three travelers found the supine form of the mad huntress, covered in her blood-stained cloak, breathing softly. Against the wall leaned the red trident, and the white of her mask. And beside her, bloody rags, half cleaned and stinking, drying, to be reapplied when she woke.
Alai could feel it even before he reached Vyndra - it was her dream, a dream more than spirit or fancy, but a dream of sight and the unseen. Whispered questions, of safety and certainty, passed between the companions facing their sleeping target in the flesh. But the answer is now clear - they were here to help, to guide, and perhaps, to learn.
*beatboxing
].
