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Post by akhega on Oct 22, 2015 5:05:43 GMT
The silence around him was nearly complete, only the whispering of the winds could be heard about him as the old man fought rage and sorrow to calm himself. Something was wrong, or rather something was all together too good. The battle was over and lost, nothing remained but the dead, and the ghosts of what was. Yet the strength still coursed through his blood, his war hammer once so heavy felt light, and his limbs didn't ache as they should. He felt more alive then he could ever remember.
The iron smell of blood was in his nose as he walked, without limp or ache to wash his hands and face of blood. It was there by the pool of cold water he stopped and stared. It was not the face of a tired old man, weary of the pains of the world and doing his best to heal the wounds of youth before him. It was the strong face of a man who age had not yet claimed, who's bones were still strong. There was a fire in his eyes again, a light he'd not seen in some time. Washing the blood off he looked around, at the opponents he'd slain, the battle was done, and the fury gone. Yet, the strength of youth remained?
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Post by Akara on Oct 22, 2015 6:39:16 GMT
The North was a very busy place, as of late. It seemed Akara couldn't get away from the damn place, because every time he did, something else would happen and he'd get an Infalliable Messenger asking ever-so-politely that he go see what the stars were on about. The Sunrise had started years ago with Yurgen Kaneko, The Bull of the North, and was rising ever more quickly. It seemed that Sol Invictus' light would sweep over and then down from the frozen North, which was in it's own way gratifying. If the rulers of Creation were coming to warm the world out of the Age of Sorrows, they could do worse than to start in the most frozen place ever conceived.
But enough thinking. Akara had dismounted his Stormwind Rider about ten miles out from his target and went forward on foot. Freshly Exalted Solars were a notoriously volatile bunch, and Akara had learned after meeting the second one that it was a bad idea to roll up on one riding atop a semi-sentient tornado. A Dawn had once (gloriously) knocked him through three consecutive buildings, simply startled at his presence. Not an event Akara had invited to occur again. "Hail, friendly!" The dereth called out to a tall, stumbling figure wading his way through the snow ahead. He was carrying a warhammer, reeked of blood, and looked amazed at his own biceps. Granted, the man looked a bit old to have Exalted, but it did take all sorts. Heroism was no more the province of the young than it belonged to men or women.
Akara's Skytongue, the native language of the North, was clumsy and awkward. The svelte, athletic Southerner - likely, the darkest-skinned person for thousands of miles in any direction - raised a hand in greeting and offered a professional and slightly crooked smile. He was in no way dressed for the cold, but didn't seem bothered by it. Although Akara would normally have tried to greet the barbarian in High Realm, the closest thing to Creation's 'common' language, Icewalker barbarians had a habit of not bothering to be bilingual. "I am sure you mustings live confused? I am the friendly! Named Akara. May we shelter and talk? I am the friendly!" Akara called out a little louder, to ensure that his heavily accented voice could be heard above the howling wind and internal conflict.
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Post by akhega on Oct 23, 2015 2:34:30 GMT
A long blink was the only movement the men took for a second, a second followed as he attempted to remove the fog from his mind. The words were heavily accented and in the completely stunned mind of Akhega barely comprehensible. He did understand one thing though, this one wasn't look for a fight. Long ago his tribe had been strong, well not even so long ago, but they'd been brought down by a force beyond their reckoning. At first they'd joined swept up in the strength of one man, but their desire for independence was strong, and the leash became tighter they refused him and left, and now they were no more.
Yet it had allowed movement of tribes and ideas, and for Akhega the greatest prizes he owned, a pair of books. Seemingly great tomes of knowledge, they covered the basics of healing arts from stitching wounds to properly creating natural medicines. Unbeknownst to him they were the simple basics, but he had dedicated his elder years towards mastering the lessons inside them. It had also forced him to learn a second language, one which might be useful here, or at least expedient. "Flown far from home, you have? You should dress more warmly lest your blood turn to ice." It was halting and about as stumbled as the dark man's speech, he felt pretty good about it, all things considered.
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Post by Akara on Oct 23, 2015 3:50:15 GMT
Oho. The old man knew High Realm - good. Akara hated sounding like he didn't absolutely know what he was talking about. The short young man waded forward in the snow, keeping his eyes focused on the towering barbarian. "The howling winds' teeth do not bear be any sting, brother." He promised, his fingers drifting to his brow - where, softly, the blazing crest of the Eclipse appeared on his forehead, mirroring the crest on Akhega's own - if it was still lit.
"My name is Akara, and I am chosen of the Sun; just as you are." He explained, dreadlocks blowing in the wind, caked with snow and ice. "I have traveled from the other side of Creation and back. May we speak awhile? I'm sure you're confused, but I'm here to help you and answer any questions you might have."
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Post by akhega on Oct 25, 2015 22:56:46 GMT
There was an expected path path that one followed through life. You were born, you grew up, had a family and trade, and then passed on your knowledge on before you died. Every word she spoke denied that to a man who'd long ago accepted his journey was ending. Looking about him the old man nodded as he went about the business of turning the camp into a giant pyre. "Speak then, what does the Sun want from an old man of the North?"
((really short but yeah I'll get rolling))
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Post by Akara on Oct 26, 2015 2:17:29 GMT
"I do not know, yet." Akara admitted, wading through the snow to help the old man in his duties. He wasn't familiar with the funerary processes of the North - and, honestly, in how to move efficiently through snow in the North - but he could at least help. "Those chosen to inherit the power of Sol Invictus do so with a mandate to forge this world into one better than it is - however they see fit." He explained, taking a torch and laying it respectfully upon the shattered remains of what looked like a curing hut for leather preparation.
He glanced up and met Akhega's eyes briefly, his caste mark still shining - a small disk inside a larger circle of gold. "My own mark designates me as an arbiter, a mediator, and judge. However, I feel my calling in helping those like yourself - those recently selected by Sol Invictus, who may have questions or need guidance. Education." He explained with a small smile. "It is not all that I do, but it is a pleasure more than a duty. If I am not mistaken, brother, I believe that you, too, have felt the calling to educate and guide those without your wisdom?" Akara asked with a helpful smile, lifting his torch slightly.
Now he was starting to feel the chill. Warming up could wait. Stupid Northweather.
"Your exaltation as one of the Sun's children simply means that Sol Invictus has seen greatness in you - heroism, strength." Akara went on to explain. "How you exercise the power that has been given and earned is your choice; but this world is in pain, brother. This is, after all, the age of sorrows. Who knows? Perhaps one more champion such as yourself may tip the balance."
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