[AW] bone to rune; skull to dust [AW]

[Turhan]

“ bone to rune ”

Oddly enough, stars guided the blind man's way.  It had taken two full days to get where he was now where it would have taken a young horse (presumably a fast one) less than a full day to arrive to its destination.  He was sore, and tired, and exhausted from his trip to Veneror.  He would not complain of it though, and he would not treat his arthritic flare-ups as a burden.  It was necessary, he welcomed the stiff bones and the deep ache that filled his hollow body.  The ritual had been worth it, Vespera had pointed a way to his new home .. even if it wasn't exactly 'new' to the returning Ilati.  It had just been many-many moons, long before the kingdom had been started.  Long before politics turned it into such.


He did not care to reminisce on the days of old - they were filled with bloodshed and betrayal to his people.  The Ilati tribes that once lived here were no more - they had been chased out, scattered, then hunted to the point of near-extinction.  They had no choice but to go deep into the wilds where they could live and practice in peace.  Turhan's collected group of apprentices had camped along Rapax River long before it ever had a name, until it became too dangerous.  They had much to protect, and despite his fierce heart which was unafraid of battle, what use was any of his wisdom and knowledge if he were to die stupidly fighting for free land?


He was an alien to them all, fully covered in blood and bone dust, reeking of patchouli and other musky flowers he ground into a salve to smear onto his aching joints.  He wore a cow skull with long horns that protruded forward from the headplate.  Turhan had painted his face white even though his coat was the color of cedar and soot.  His mane was wild, thick, rough, and full of braids, bones, ribbons, and more.  When the wind blew, the prayer bells hanging down either side of his face jingled brightly in the dim stellar light. 


With a serious hitch in his step and a pace that could match a tortoise's, he followed the smell of woodsmoke.  A fire had been lit and left alone long enough, he heard no voices from the beyond the trees.  Turhan loitered with great caution before deciding he'd very much like to sit by the warm fire and made his way towards the clearing.  It was hard to say where he was - it had been years and years since he had come to this area (fled from it).  Vespera, he knew, would guide him no matter which way. The acolyte trusted she wouldn't invite him here to have him destroyed,


And so, the Elder stepped into the warm glow of the campfire light both weary and wary.  The light revealed him to be a black horse with a white face, a large mane like that of a lion's only wildly decorated. He knelt into the dirt before sitting down with a heavy, exhausted sigh.  He'd make camp here tonight but in the morning, he'd have to find his own shelter for sure.


ooc:  Forgive me, new character + first post = disaster!

T U R H A N  ~ 
skull to dust

[Atreus]

I've gone a million miles With the same crooked smile The day was growing late. To the west, the sun slowly fell beyond the reach of the Terminus Sea, enshrouding Novus in a cloak of cool darkness and offering a reprieve of summer’s scorch. It was relaxing, he dared to say, and he set dutifully to the task at hand – to locate, retrieve and mix together two very specific plants. One of them was burdock, a burred plant which hosted blooms of violet during this time of year – and the other, echinacea, a type of daisy that bloomed nearly any color under the sun, and was a giantess of its kind. Traversing the edges of the cliffs, Atreus was ever cautious of where he placed himself, but fear held no grip on him as he did so for he had faced far greater danger in his life than the possibility of falling to his demise. It would be a shame to do so, truly, but he greatly doubted that such a thing would be his undoing. Eventually, he found one of the things he sought, a cluster of orange echinaceas, and set the basket down that he’d taken from the hospital. With substantial care, he worked to pull the entire plant up from the ground so as to leave the roots intact, doing so with all but a few of them. Laying them back in the basket, Atreus picked it up and continued in his search. Within an hour’s time, he had collected a significant amount of each plant and proceeded back to the carefully contained fire he’d prepared upon his arrival to the cliffs. It was there that he would extract what he needed and prepare them for use, but as he approached the still flickering flames, he found that somebody else awaited him. One ear cocked back and his brow rose quizzically as he drew near, and suddenly recognition flashed in his eyes. The wild, unruly hair adorned with fragmented bones and other such prizes, laid out over a bony man who still bore the skull of a bovine long deceased. “… What are you doing up here, you old cod?” He asked as he lowered his head, setting the basket and thus his collection a few feet away from the fire. “The sea will be your end, if your eyes are as bad as I remember.” And I always give you all you need But I can see that you're dancing with the devil

@Turhan

[Indra]

life's but a walking shadow

Far to the west, the sun smoldered against the horizon, but it was the trail of smoke that drew Indra's gaze, a velvety dark streak against the deepening purple of the sky. Picking her way along the cliffside path, the unicorn paused, her golden eyes narrowing. She turned her face to the inland breeze, filling her lungs with that deep, raw scent so at odds with the brine blowing in off the sea.

Fire was a word every horse knew—less a thing than a call to action, a rush of heat and need. In the riftlands, it had been but one among a thousand dangers, but Indra knew even so to be wary of lightning in a dry summer wood, of molten rock spilling down glassy black slopes. She knew as well as anyone did that it took but a single ember to turn forest and meadow to ash.

But there was another world, half-remembered, in which fire was a tool to be summoned at will, a gift by which to warm and craft and heal. The knowledge rustled in the back of Indra's mind as she followed the curl of smoke, and soon enough a flicker of light appeared, gradually resolving itself into a small campfire.

This was no wild blaze, come to scorch the earth and bring new growth. This was a fire that had been built, and tended.

It had been a long, long time since Indra had thought of the Ilati—how long, she would have been hard-pressed to say, for time in the rift had been a tricky, treacherous thing, and often the unicorn felt older by far than her four years. The shamans that had raised her, the swamplands that had held her close—they felt less like the past than a waking dream.

But the men before her now were Ilati men, and the realization seared through her like a bolt of light, white and fierce. Impossible, impossible to believe that she had stumbled her way back to Terrastella after all of this time, all of her wandering. But the strings of bones, the mask, the basket full of herbs—

She did not know these two, but that meant nothing; there were always unknown faces among a herd which numbered in the thousands. But both wore marks of status among the Ilati people, and Indra dipped her head low as she approached the small camp, her iron feather winking in the firelight.

"Grandfather," she greeted the elder stallion where he lay, and, turning to the other male, "Uncle. What brings you so far from Tinea?" She hesitated, then went on, "I have been away for some time. Do you have any word of Nahane?"

i n d r a

@Turhan @Atreus hope you don't mind Indra crashing xD

[Turhan]

“ bone to rune ”

Tempus had come down on Veneror Peak like a beach bully smashing an unsuspecting five-year old's sand castle.  What once was, was now no more, and the prayers prayed for-and-by both the needy and the eager would not be answered that day (when were they ever?).  For hundreds of years that monolith of a mountain stood.  It had been the Elder's sanctity - his peoples' sanctity - they inviolably believed that Vespera could feel their spirit if they could stand so close to the sky.  Then all that wonder and magic was suddenly .. nothing.


Turhan theorized that he must have been an hour away in distance from Veneror when it happened.  That, and being blind, there was little else he could say to describe what he saw, just what he felt.


He felt darkness, though perhaps it was foresight without thinking.  No broken bones - just skin.  The terrifying, near-deafening roar of Might wasn't nearly as traumatizing as it should have been. Everybody back home knew that the old man heard voices and saw things that weren't there and had come to expect it from his tales.  However, in less spectacular ways, what he always said often turned out to be true.


Now, the age of innocence was over and he should warn the others of this (if they didn't already know) and --- after a nap by the fire first.


Long-removed from from the scene now, everything was a hazy blur.  His old memory could not remember the past few hours where the Witch Doctor guided the old man home and urged him to rest.  Naturally he wandered the moment she had gone, some better decision-making skills had been forfeited for a ticket into the towering age of sixteen.  It was easy to focus on the crackling rasp of the fire than the hole in his memory.


He was comfortable here knowing the fire was started by an Ilati. The cinnamon bark and cedar wood was a trademark flavor of smoke all too familiar to Turhan.  His hair had been perfumed by it while resting by the fireside many years ago.  A breeze brought another texture into the air, efforvescent echinacea and the woody musk of burdock, the firestarter must have been returning to camp afterall.  



-- then Atreus spoke and Turhan couldn't help grunting outloud to block out being called old or blind.  If he didn't hear it it wasn't true -- or so he stubbornly thought.


"Vespera guides me. I am blind but I am not .. " Turhan struggled to find the Mlendo word, 'stupid', he ate it when it failed to surface in his memory and Turhan hoped Atreus would think it was intentional.  "Vespera guides me, always."  He kvelled.  Progressing forward, he stirred the coals until he could feel more heat his way.  Greedily he scooted his sore bones closer to the source shamelessly hogging the warmth despite it being Summer.


"You busy? -- Now you not.  Sit and have words with me.  Big problems in the mountains, you hear about it? Say to me what you know."


Turhan reached out to pitch more cedar into the dying fire trying to encourage the medicine man to stay longer to hopefully pick his bones on what dawn healer might know of.  Meanwhile, careful footsteps from far away became near now.  The old bear was known for his long periods of silence, "Atatu needs more blue blooms, from the highlands.  You will bring to Tinea, no?  Atatu, she will not go," unless it was to issue a simple-but-complicated request.  


There were many kinds of blue flowers.  Dozens.
The highlands of where?
Who was Atatu?


By now girl was moving towards the invitation of fire - something about the way the unnamed one spoke invoked a sense of nostalgia within Turhan.  Although he did not yet understand why, he trusted her implicitly. 


Grandfather,  the child greeted.  Turhan rattled his bells at her in fair response.  The child then acknowledged Atreus.  Uncle, she said softly.  Then to them both, she asked of Nahane.  The subject was sacred, Turhan being old and self-righteous at times, expected his question to be answered first before she got one for hers.


"You speak like the old ones -- why?"  


*Mlendo, Nyanja for 'Outsider'
*Atatu, a Chewewah name for @Batty that he has chosen

T U R H A N
skull to dust

@Atreus , @Indra 
Ooc:  This is way beefier than the intro.  I don't usually make it a habit to throw so much into posts but I was struggling with direction and I'll edit the link to the thread pertaining to where he was before he was here.  Dingo, I was kicking around the idea that, in their younger years they've shared a few fires and passed secrets or traded tools of the trade.  Feel free to add, I figure it's a good way to establish their previous encounters.

[Atreus]

I've gone a million miles With the same crooked smile The answer received was far from unexpected, and it was a shame that the Elder couldn’t see the wickedly amused grin that swept across the poison master’s features. Unlike many of the Ilati, Atreus did not worship Vespera or any deity for that matter – none had helped him get where he was now, and none had come to his rescue when he’d needed it most. Oh, he knew that they were real and that their power was greater than any he could ever own, but he had no need for their grace. Lowering his head, the man of crimson and silver dutifully set to his task. Taking advantage of the magic gifted to those who passed into Novus’ borders, removed the flowers from the basket and lay them gently in a wide bowl suitable for crushing. From there, he took a rock and began to meticulously crush them, as though he would completely destroy them if not careful in his actions. Turhan spoke, and Atreus flicked his eyes of black and gold questioningly up towards the lounging man. He had felt a deep rumble from the earth beneath his feet the night prior, a curious thing indeed for in all the years before, he couldn’t recall a single time he’d felt something like it. Sure, Terrastella had experienced minor quakes of the earth in the past, but this had been something different, something that had penetrated his hooves and shaken his very bones. But Atreus did not know the source. ”I haven’t the slightest,” he admitted truthfully, glancing back down to the progression of his work, ”It could be anything – an earthquake, the Gods toying with us. Maybe Vespera guiding you.” But he was not so foolish as to think it was any of those things. Another question came before he could offer his insight as to what may actually be afoot, and this time Atreus quirked a brow at the ramshackle man. “Veneror, you mean?” He asked for clarification sake, “Perhaps I could make the trip, if it were worth my while. I’ll need more than just ’blue blooms’ to go off of, though.” Atreus made to speak further, to inquire as to who ‘Atatu’ was, but was abruptly stopped by the arrival of another. Craning his neck, Atreus surveyed the grey for a moment, assessing her. Her posture was one that offered respect to both he and Turhan despite the fact that the poison master failed to recognize her. Perhaps even more curious was her choice of words, and the cogs of the man’s mind began to turn with realization. She was Ilati – or at least connected to them in some way, just like Atreus himself was. He hummed softly beneath his breath as he turned away and directed his attention back on the bowl at his feet and the contents it held. “Flowers,” he answered quite simply because, honestly, it had been his only reason for venturing to the cliffsides of Terrastella. ”Besides, swamp musk hardly suits me.” A grin flashed across his face in that instant, but it was gone as he glanced back in the direction of the dappled girl, that blackened eye haunting against the glint of the flickering fire and the growing darkness. The subject of Nahane was quite easily the most cherished topic amongst the Ilati people, and although Atreus could care less himself, to speak so openly of her hadn’t always been viewed with positivity. In response, the man gave a short and simple, gruffly spoken answer. “No.” And I always give you all you need But I can see that you're dancing with the devil

@Turhan @Indra

[Indra]

life's but a walking shadow

There was something strange about them, these two men, but Indra could not quite place exactly what. She had grown so accustomed, lately, to strangeness of the vast and earth-tilting variety that it had all but ceased to faze her; but gazing across the campsite at these two stallions edged in the flickering firelight, she was struck by how the small, mortal strangenesses of the world could be just as unnerving.

They did not seem right, for all that their Ilati trappings were as plain as the constellations shining high overhead—and yet those, too, seemed oddly awry, and Indra could not help but frown briefly up at the night sky. Was not the Riverdrake always visible at this time of year? And when had the Serpent slunk so close to the tip of the Sky Queen’s wing? It was as if the very heavens had been shifted—a feat that Indra doubted even the gods themselves could manage.

“The old ones,” she repeated aloud now, eyeing the Ilati elder curiously. “You mean the gods?” She shook her head, her mane gleaming like blood in the gold of the fire. “I have never spoken with them. I leave that to the Witch Doctor, and others touched by Vespera.” In truth, though she had been raised in many of the Ilatis’ ways, she had never joined in their worship of the deities. The world into which she had been born did not keep any gods but time, and magic, and the rift.

To the herbalist she offered a small, sideways tilt of the head, her iron horn flashing with light. “You do not live in the swamp with the others?” she asked him. “To which clan do you belong?” There were dozens, she knew, and while most kept within the borders of Tinea, a few had ventured further afield as the Ilati populations had burgeoned, testing their luck in the wilds of Terrastella and beyond.

She turned again to the masked elder curled beside the fire, struggling to remember whether she might have seen him before at a festival or other gathering. “Nahane will chastise me, for I have surely forgotten your face and name,” she suggested, “but I am pleased to have found your fire all the same. What trouble is it that you speak of, in the mountains?” For she had overheard their earlier words, as she approached, and she knew that there would be much she had missed in her absence. And then, because she didn’t exactly have much else on her agenda, she offered, “I could help to gather your blue blooms. But who is this Atatu?”

i n d r a

@Turhan @Atreus <3

[Turhan]

“ bone to rune ”

Something itched, Atreus was talking about how the trip to Veneror needed to be more worthwhile for him, Turhan only heard him partially as his skin ticked and flicked with increasing itchy irritation.  Some kind of insect persevered through the jungle of his matted, clumpy hair and it had far too many legs for the old man to not notice it.  Like something feral he sank his teeth into the clotted muddy mess on his leg and started to pull the dirt (and paint? -- yeah paint) off.  Whatever it was looked like a centipede as it squirmed between his lips in the firelight -- then he ate it. 


"Veneror no more, Great Spirits are angry.  What these Mlendo doing to make this so?"  Turhan's heart thumped particularly hard against his bony chest, somehow none of what he had experienced in the past few days were  things he cared to remember.  Try as he might to forget it -- he wanted so desperately to blame the newer civilizations for the entire upset.  All of it.  He worried the Ilati would be made to suffer the same fates of the Mlendo.  Thankfully combined efforts between the other Ilati members kept him somewhat centered.  Usually when he got sleepy he lost his focus more easily.   That, and the heat felt good against his sore achy bones.  


"Collecting blue blooms at a time like this is-- no."  Then to Indra, he shook his head at her.  Firelight traced the lines of things drifting off his rat's nest of a mane (bugs? wishes?).  "Nobody go, not yet." No to them both.  He couldn't remember asking Atreus a favor for it, just moments ago.


 His mind was already snoring about the idea of Indra -- when did she get here? -- how come he did not notice this? (or had he?).  She smelled pretty.  Sounded pretty.  But something she said made him think she might be as old as he -- and that is when he chose to stop thinking about it entirely.  Regardless of his senior moment he was quite relaxed in the dirt, too relaxed, the old man let his gas go, shamelessly honking a fart out in the dead of night.  The rippling sound then echoed off the edge of the cliff and carried on like a sick bird growing more and more ill by each reverb.  


Or was it an actual bird?  He wondered.  

And then,


"Who again?" 
"Me?"

"Oh, I am Turhan -- he is Atreus."  The clumps of non-information, information came out altogether and were hardly understandable but out it came nonetheless. 


"You will know Atatu -- in time." He could remember everything about Atatu -- he liked to think he knew exactly where all the bobcat dots were in her hair.  If asked about the weather that very same day, he wouldn't know if it rained or shined even if he had been standing in it.  If he was asked to explain just who she was - he couldn't, not with words anyway. He felt it was best if one were to experience his witch doctor first hand rather than anticipate Atatu based off of a blind sketch artist's opinions.


"O' Traveler, you have been gone far too long."  Turhan then says at long last, head shaking again to release more crumbs of himself into the rising heat of the fire.  "You are new again." Resurrection, he seems to suggest by the intrigue in his voice.

T U R H A N  ~ 
skull to dust

@Atreus  @Indra  <____>  I don't even know anymore...he isn't good at direction.

[Atreus]

I've gone a million miles With the same crooked smile “Unfortunately for me, Tinea commands my attention quite often – her arsenal continues to prove useful in my work where her putrescent aroma does not.” Then, she asks of what clan he belongs to, and the curvature of his lips slowly upturns into the beginnings of a gentle, yet ominous smile. “I prefer to think that I do not belong to anything, nor anyone in particular. I offer my aid throughout the Ilati when and where it is needed, and I leave it at that.” It was unlikely that this cryptic response was the answer Indra was looking for, but for now, it was all she would get. Turhan was speaking then, immediately retracting his previous request that he go and gather ‘blue blooms’ from Veneror Peak. Where one might look on at the Elder in utter confusion or grow frustrated at the way he made no sense, Atreus had grown used to Turhan’s moment of lapse in memory. In five minutes it would all come back to him and the very moment in which they were living now would be gone forever – or it wouldn’t – it was honestly impossible to tell. Before Atreus could allow for the nonsensical words to go through one ear and out the other, a sound rippled through the air and was followed by a most repulsive smell. His nose crinkled in automatic response, and leaving his concoction to continue boiling over the open flames, he stepped away before he could choke. “You’ll set yourself aflame if the sea doesn't claim you first, old man,” came the bitter words of the poison master, now standing at a distance which he hopes will prove safe against Turhan’s relentless stench. With a look akin to disgust, Atreus turned his haunting eyes of black and glimmering gold back upon Indra, drinking in her form for a sliver of a second before speaking. ”If you wish to help search, Indra, you are welcome to join me at the mountain peaks.” The man pauses, and through narrowed eyes of annoyance he glances towards Turhan and then back again. ”If there is something happening, our best chance of discovering what it is would be to investigate it ourselves.” And I always give you all you need But I can see that you're dancing with the devil

@Turhan @Indra Sorry for the late response my lovelies!! I've had a lot going on <33

[Indra]

life's but a walking shadow

Quietly Indra listened as the Ilati elder spoke, his mind seeming to drift between place and time with every crackle of the flames. So much of what he said made little sense to her, though whether this was due to confusion on his part, or a lack of context on hers, she could not say. Here and there, reason glinted through the rambling chaos of his speech, and she could see that there was wisdom buried there, the profits of a long and difficult life.

And then he would lose his thread again, drifting off to sleep or loosing the fetor of his bowels. Indra held her breath and did her best to maintain a neutral expression. She could not guess at how old the elder was—Turhan, he had called himself—or what sort of man truly lay hidden beneath the wild, matted mane and filthy, painted hide. She did not doubt that he could be a valuable teacher, if one had the patience to learn from him, and she wondered again about Atatu, and what their relationship might be.

Atreus was gibing the elder in a way that suggested to Indra that they two, at least, were well acquainted, despite the younger stallion’s disavowal of any particular Ilati clan. She had been watching his work as they conversed—crushing flowers, boiling a draught—and had concluded that he was an herbalist. Now she narrowed her eyes, frowning at the contents of his pot. “That is not a healing remedy,” she observed. “Foxglove induces seizures.” Her golden eyes flicked to his, startled comprehension widening them ever so slightly. “You are a poisoner.”

But Turhan was speaking again, his words directed at her. She turned politely back toward him, expecting more of his unsteady digressions, but his words struck her unexpectedly to her core. You are new again. Yes, that was it, wasn’t it? This world that she had once known… It had changed, somehow. The stars were different; the Ilati were different. She was not sure, yet, in what way, but she would find out.

It was almost dizzying, to hear such insight from lips that were crusted still with the remains of some insect he had plucked from the tangle of his mane. With an effort Indra turned again to the poison master. “It would be wise,” she agreed, “to see what is unfolding. We do not want to be caught unawares by some untoward development.” She flicked an ear, her old restlessness stirring again inside of her. She had no appointments, no cause for hurry, and yet she got the feeling that she had tarried here at their fireside long enough. “What is your destination? Do you camp tonight, or continue on?”

i n d r a

@Turhan @Atreus sorry for the wait! <3

[Turhan]

“ bone to rune ”

Something rattled his bones, it started in his chest, deep - deep inside of it, chains shaking, shadows shifting, a great and heavy disquiet came upon him like a storm moving in.  The Elder shifted uncomfortably, cleared his throat a few times as to try and be louder than Indra's epiphany over the pot on the fire.  Though he had no control over anything that played out beyond this campfire he encroched upon much earlier, he did not care to hear Atreus be referred to as such.  His old friend was the best at the worst of elixirs and potions - Turhan liked to think that Atreus only ever used them when absolutely needed but as such he would never judge the medicine man for his choices.  An ear flicked with just as much nonchalance as his opinions of Atreus and his poison making.


Something else was nattering at him, he couldn't help but feel more than distracted in his mind, heart, and even soul.  He couldn't hide the discomfort that was starting to build inside of him and the Elder grumbled discontentedly for the first time that night.


The thunder in his ears could not be ignored, his heart was racing before he realized it and the old shaman changed elbows to lean on once again.  His sore hips couldn't find a soft spot on the ground, and finally -- he resorted to pulling himself to his feet.  By now the coals were at their hottest and his bones had encased enough eat to recharge him.  Sore and soured the Elder made sure to reach out to Indra, his curiosity invested in her however muted it seemed to be.  A surprisingly soft nose touched her shoulder.  


"I must go.  Something is happening."  He said strangely, first and foremost.  




"You, Returner, we will speak of Nahane again soon."  Her name was Indra, ut she was so mystical and so new he couldn't think to call her anything but what she was.  A tail flicked the hot ash off of his back before he nodded towards Atreus (he nodded towards a nearby tree, Atreus was farthest out of his reach when his blind eyes tried to address him.  "Atreus, stay wise."  What did that even mean?  Did it mean anything at all?  Turhan was already nodding off to them, turning, and then going.  


For such a slow, tired old thing, he disappeared quickly and quietly into the darkness.

T U R H A N  ~  
skull to dust

@Atreus  @Indra  Five years later, I'm sorry for dragging you guys through a muse slump!  Thanks for hanging in there!