Proud?

I wrote this to cover a bit of my absence for the past couple of weeks (and also for the smidge of an absence to come). I'll be moving soon, and settling into a new store, possibly a new position (promotion) if all works out, so yay! Hoping to definitely be around more once the dust settles.

She settled the cowl of her jacket onto her shoulders as she approached the monument housing the remains of her parents, side by side. Staring at the monument, she wondered what she should say, if anything at all. It seemed rather odd to try to talk to the dead as though there was anything they could say back. Was she to hold a conversation with a marbled wall, the words slightly echoing throughout the family’s memorial?

She opted not to visit often after the funeral because… why? Things had been settled, new information was learned and she was really nowhere closer to the truth than when it was spelled out in front of her in plain Elven writing. Closure was hard to come by and the last communication from her father was less than forthcoming with where to look for answers. She had no idea what she was even looking for, or even if she should be looking. As far as Elanthia was concerned, nothing had really changed, and so few would know the truth of her heritage. Only those she deemed close enough to call a true friend… and the occasional obligatory life-shattering confession to a near stranger after five too many glasses of wine. She winced as she thought about that. No matter.

The time had come, though, to have a moment with the dead, to speak of things that happened since her last journey to the graves. It was a ridiculous practice, really, but oddly cathartic. It never changed what she said or how it was received, but it did offer her a sense of peace, her concerns voiced as she considered the words, often coming to a conclusion she would not have before.

Her face scrunched a bit as she adjusted the sash across her blouse, the weight of her awards shifting it out of position. Instinctively, she thumbed one of them, smudging it slightly as she gazed up, her mind searching for what to say, what to do. Creating things out of air with a song was so easy… trying to pull words from it was much harder. After a moment’s pause, and several failed starts, she began to mumble anything that came to her lips.

“Mother… Father… Well, I’m here.” She brought her forehead down into her palm, thinking how stupid this all seemed. Exhaling, she continued, “It’s been a bit since I saw either of you, talked to… either of you. Last you… last you saw of me, well… I was quite a mess, wasn’t I? I still am, but I guess I’m getting better at hiding it.” She managed a half-hearted grin.

“That’s all that was expected, wasn’t it? That I hide my failures and do what I could to make the family proud, right? Well… you would be proud of me now, I think. I’ve done it. It took several years of being in the Reserves and I’ve done what I couldn’t even do during my 100 year service. Everyone… believed in me… which, I don’t know… it feels… off,” her face scrunched again as she realized what she was saying. “I guess I was always the one who shied away from the responsibility. It’s really scary, all things considered… knowing what you do could mean the life or death of those in your bandon. It’s unsettling, and I’m terrified I’m going to fail. It’s why I always avoided this sort of thing… I never wanted to fail… either of you and shame everyone simply by association.”

By this point, her bottom lip started quivering and tears made their slow crawl down her cheeks. “I wish you could have seen it, Mother… the night I was given the awards. It was… surprising. So many others deserved it more than I did, but I guess my fear of failing did something right… And when I was promoted… I just… it was… I can’t even describe it. I wish you had been there, Father. Would you have been proud of me, then? Would you have welcomed me back home, then?” Her voice cracked as she paused, making sure no one could hear her as she looked around. She took a deep breath, wiping roughly at the tears, causing her alabaster skin to pinken.

“There’s other stuff I could talk about… but, I guess this was the only thing I cared to, all things considered. Anything else is… frivolous, I guess… and Father did always have an issue with frivolity.” Her brow furrowed somewhat. “I’m becoming who you had always hoped I would be, Father… a soldier, a leader. I just… wish you had been there… and that it hadn’t been too late for you to see it.”

She stood there in silence, staring once more at the monument, questioning why she even came. Catharsis was not easy to come by, even now, and she just shook her head as she realized the weight remained on her shoulders. Stepping forward, she placed two ivory roses, snipped from her mother’s garden, at the base of the marble structure before turning away and preparing for her return to the Fortress.

Originally posted 5/23/17 on Gemstone IV Official Ta'Vaalor Folder.

The Past... the Present...

She had been coddled a good deal of her early life, sheltered by her mother from the overly militaristic ways of her father and elder brothers.  Her mother, Lareina, had always wanted a girl after conceiving three males and watching her twin sister delight in the birth of her daughter.  While her sons started training early in life, sparring against each other in their estate's courtyard with their father, Vezeret, overseeing them, Nihrvanah was often treated to afternoon teas with her mother, or various shopping trips to fill either her wardrobe with gowns, or her jewelry boxes with ostentatious accessories or trinkets.  Her mother intended to raise her as a maiden first, and a soldier second, treating her with special attention as her father seemed entirely lost when it came to raising a girl.  The agreement was made, and Lareina was given the opportunity to do with Nihrvanah as she wished until she was a certain age.

Nihrvanah reached that age the prior week and training began that day.  Her mother watched from the balcony overlooking the courtyard, removing herself from sight so her little girl could focus on the task at hand.  She watched as her daughter shook nervously in front of her father, his dour presence intimidating to this delicate flower.  She watched as a spear was thrown to her daughter's feet and Nihrvanah was commanded to pick it up.  She watched as her daughter did just that and heard the whimpering as her father directed her to defend an incoming blow.  It was not a hard one, nor a difficult one to deflect, but Nihrvanah was soft, having never seen her brothers in action.  Lareina sighed as she watched Nihrvanah cry and drop the weapon, cowering away in fear of Vezeret.  She watched as her sons laughed at the girl who feared what they embraced so easily, taunting her with seemingly harmless jabs as brothers were wont to do.

She watched as Nihrvanah continued to walk backwards, head lowered yet looking for an exit, and she watched as her husband’s patience broke with the girl, grabbing her before she could run.  She swore she would not interfere, but she heard her husband’s rising temper in his voice as he yelled at the girl, her sobs intermingling with his tirade.  She couldn’t just stand around, not now.  Her baby was being threatened and she had to rescue her.  She ran through the balcony doors, hurrying down the steps and out into the courtyard in time to watch her husband and sons fall silent as an audible snap followed by a pained scream erupted from Nihrvanah.  Vezeret released her from his grasp, took a step back with regret in his eyes as he looked up to see his wife standing before him, her expression one of cold anger as she saw the result of his wrath.  Her daughter curled up on the ground, holding her now oddly angled arm tightly to her chest, tremors wracking her body.

Lareina said nothing as her husband, already an elf of few words, stumbled across an apology, his voice fumbling as he attempted to express contrition.  She remained silent as she gathered her daughter in her arms and carried her inside, away from the patriarch of the family and their dutiful sons.

That was the last time Vezeret was allowed to train Nihrvanah.

She cursed to herself as the rain began to pour, bringing with it the stench of decay.  There was no senior enlisted around for her to get commands from, not even the Champion or Pereus could be found.  Where were they? she wondered as she stared at the courts, bustling with squires, citizens, and visitors who knew what was coming, but had no idea what to do.  She swore silently as she realized no orders would come unless they came from her.

Within moments, she called for volunteers to man the walls defenses, calling for the gates to be guarded.  Valero and Legonilas she sent to Annatto; Krystalena was given charge of triage with Dantineth to assist.  She escorted Pfui and a few others to the Drake, relieved that he was ever vigilant in this role.  She took Vermilion gate, knowing full well that when the waves got stronger, she would be overrun.  In the back of her mind, she could hear her brothers’ taunts, accusing her of being weak, of being soft.  She wasn’t fit for this role, but no one else was stepping up.  Tonight’s success, or failure, would be on her shoulders, the gravity of which weighed heavily upon her already.

They came.  Wave upon wave of undead were thrown upon them, their puppeted lives expendable to sword and shield.  She knocked them down with an elemental wave, and sung a song to speed her actions as she swung her blade in a rapid pace, back and forth, cutting the enemy down.  Another attack came and she raised her voice, her screech sending waves of sonic disruption to cull the beasts before her.  The path was clear before her but she was weakened by the attack.  She ran to the courts for healing, and upon seeing Whirlin and several others representing the Hand of Arkati, silently thanked whatever supreme force saw to send such reinforcements.  She told them to take Vermillion, to see to pushing back the enemy along Timmorain Road.  They easily acquiesced and she went to back to Annatto.  The road was being overrun, so many waiting to make their assault against her home.

She stood before them, scythe of flames held out before her, as her voice prepared to lash out at them. Her cry was released against them, bringing death and utter decimation. Twice they attacked, twice she annihilated them with her scream.  The raspy voice of Vengeance, angered at the loss, threatened the towns’ defenders, telling them they would pay.  In a moment of blind arrogance, Nihrvanah’s only response was “Come at me!”  Once the words left her lips, she knew she made a grave mistake, challenging a being far more powerful than her, the depths of which led to a slaughter amongst her people and those visitors who volunteered their much needed aid.  Again Vengeance taunted them, accusing their, her, arrogance of being the cause of her comrades’ deaths.  She knew it was not wrong.

The cycle continued: resurrection, respell, fight, death.  Demons were brought forth, slaughtering those in their wake.  Both gates saw denizens of the Old City.  Griffins and deathworms worked their way past the walls, either over or under, threatening those outside the safety of the Hall of Arkati.  She stood, still recovering enough energy to join the fray, thinking about how she failed everyone, her commands not enough to battle that which sought their destruction.  Just as she was about to step out of the Hall to continue the fight, Vengeance called out with another taunt thrown to spit in their faces: “Where is your Champion?  Where are your defenders?  Oh yes… dead!”  Shortly after, as if this was all a game to it, it withdrew its forces.

There was small celebration in the streets, for tonight’s battle had been won.  She could not enjoy the time, though, not even when her comrades spoke encouraging words about how she led them through it all.  Her only response was a shake of the head and a wistful glance away, her mind racing with what was to come next, the expectations she had failed to reach, the deaths on her hands.  She left them to their drinks and joy as she headed home to prepare for the lectures on her failures she knew would be coming.

Standing at the Precipice

She stepped through the portal, scythe of air at the ready, into the Old City, pausing long enough to get her bearings before moving further into enemy territory.  Within moments, an Ithzir scout made its presence known by fading into view, its crystal-edged blade slamming against her weapon in an effort to make her lose her grip.  She laughed as it bounced off the sonic forces and sang a soothing tune that caused the alien being to fall to the ground, sound asleep.  She gave the command to the scythe floating beside her and within moments, the scout was dead from both attacks.

She wasn’t here for the Ithzir, though, at least not this time. Right now, her focus was the griffins and so sweet a revenge to cull their numbers as they so swiftly and easily worked to cull those of her people.  One came into view, announcing its arrival with an audible screech that sent chills down her spine.  Oh, how she hated when they did that, but no matter.  They fell just as easily to the swing of her scythe across their necks as the ithzir did.  One by one, she fell the foul beasts, her eyes wide with glee as she thought to herself, This is justice.  This is revenge.  This is my duty.  This is my pleasure.

She continued on, furthering her path into the Old City, seeking out the creatures to fulfill her task and being careful to avoid the notorious swarms that occurred.  How fortunate for her she found another two attempting to scare her into submission.  She shook her head, sang the lullabye and watched each fall to the ground.  Mid-swing, she was caught by another griffin’s screech, followed by a janissary fading into view and attacking her while wide open.  She stumbled back, readying the spell to knock all in her path down, only to be pushed back by the flying menace thwapping her with its wings.  She threw her hands up to cover her face, quickly losing the ground she had gained.  They had recovered and she was getting overwhelmed.

That would not stop her, not today.  The spell was cast, her enemies thrown back from her.  Another song and she was able to speed her attacks and attack she did.  Faster than they could counter, she swung, her expression of determination and anger.  One by one, they fell before her but more came.  They always came.  Another cast sent a wave to knock them down, but some still stood and continued their approach.  She ducked and dodged where she could, slashing when the opening showed itself.

She was out of breath, her mana low and still they came.  She would not run this time.  She had to stop them, even if it was this once.  She held her scythe out before her as her skin adopted an eerie luminescence, the whites of her eyes slowly darkening until they were a sea of black surrounding gentian blue irises.  The air around her began to churn, her hair undulating in the unnatural breeze creating the illusion of flames, as she slowly raised her voice in song.  With a final effort, she released a scream to outdo even a griffin’s horrific screech, the air surrounding her forced out in a sonic wave so powerful that few of her attackers withstood the cacophony of sound.  While the attack succeeded as she desired, she was weakened from the effort,  and as she swung to kill off the remaining Ithzir, an initiate cast a spell that hit its mark so perfectly, she fell into the sweet embrace of death.

The War Wages Within

Been a while since I posted anything, but here goes.  The next few posts are little blurbs that were a peak into Nihrvanah's mind as Ta'Vaalor was being attacked regularly by undead until the lich behind it all was finally defeated.

She awoke to sound of her own voice screaming out as her eyes snapped open and she realized she was safe inside her home in her own bed.  It took a few moments for her pulse to calm while she debated whether to try to sleep again or consider it the fifth night or so without proper rest.  The nightmares were getting worse with each engagement with the enemy, the demonic beings that attacked etching themselves deeper into her subconscious, forcing her to face them once again, this time in her dreams.  The horrors she witnessed continued to haunt her as the scenes replayed in her mind: the hag dismembering a child, the tormentor gruesomely beheading a guard, soldiers taking an all too familiar ride in a griffin’s talons only to be dropped with great force to their deaths.  It was all she could do not to lose her stomach in front of her fellow legionnaires, let alone here at home and she nearly fell to the floor as she heaved.  Nothing came out, thankfully, but it still hurt nonetheless.

You’re a fraud, Nihrvanah thought as she sat up and rested against a nearby nightstand, shaking her head as she tried to clear it.  It continued to creep up on her, accusing her of being afraid, of letting that fear take over as every instinct told her to find safety, even though she should be safe in her own home.  It was a nagging feeling that threatened to overtake her even on the battlefield, one she fought hard to suppress in the face of grave danger.  She put on a brave face like always, burying the fear beneath a guise of fragile confidence.  None could know how scared she really was, not just of the war but so many other things.  They couldn’t know how weak she really felt.

She sat in the darkness a little bit longer before deciding there was only one thing to do on a sleepless night.  She had to train, she had to get stronger so she didn’t feel like she was lying to everyone, including herself, about what she was capable of.  She dressed, her voice lifting as her songs created a barrier of airy flames around her, then continuing to form a scythe of flames both in her hand and hovering by her side.  She closed her eyes as she clenched the symbol she hid beneath her shirt, murmuring a short prayer for strength, before heading to the Old City to dispatch a fraction of the enemy forces that were being summoned forth from there.