Malloriel
Creative Mastermind
Okay, so it's longer than before. Sue me. I attempted to fix the pieces touched upon in the other thread, and flesh it out a bit more as well, give it a richer context and have Wor'gashan react as the situation really should have dictated he act before.
Glossary at the bottom for you. Hope it doesn't scare you away too much by sheer size, but if you can bring yourself to fight through the length, let me know what you think of it.
Thanks very much,
Mally.
-----
Wor'gashan watched as the human girl made her way across the central isle of the Oculus Chamber, his vantage point quite secure as he blended within the shadows behind the sculpted ear of a T'lech warrior.
Flanking the isle stood the Sentinels, their carven ebony forms supporting the domed ceiling above, each one from a different warrior within the long forgotten Dark Tribes. As the histories read, back when the temple was still mere thought, the greatest of the ancient high priests, the telecth mor, devised a way to ensure that the temple grounds would not only be held forever sacred, but could also be secured from any peril presented by any given age. An impossible task claimed many, but none rose to challenge the word of the telecth mor.
Grand, they said, were the cities of the Tribes, and grander still those who led them, yet all would have answered to the telecth mor, who answering to Anthia alone could more impartially and with greater wisdom make the judgments that kept the Tribes in balance. It was he who opened the doors of knowledge into the secrets of Anthia and the protection she granted all of her children, such as how to entrap the living essence of any being within the glistening black bonds of True Onyx.
As the temple foundations had begun to grow, they said that warriors from every tribe strived to make themselves known by their deeds. Whether through acts of loyalty, fierce competition, bravery, will, or sheer power, once it was known that the telecth mor sought ten of the Dark Tribes’ most honoured warriors—one, he said, from each faction—, the fires had been lit. All throughout the early life of Ubrekkya’s temple, Ubrekkya herself already older than the Tribes could measure, warriors competed for the honour of a deathless half-life within the glassy confinement of what were to become known as the Sentinels.
Now, so many ages later, the temple long built and her builders less than dust, her exterior crumbling and overtaken by the forest around them, the Sentinels still stood as vigilant as ever, their surfaces curiously seamless and brazen in their defiance of time and the toll it should have taken upon them.
Wor’gashan had spent many an hour scrutinizing their design within his usually silent, spiritual watches. The only knowledge he held as certain was that none of them could have been made of True Onyx, their size too great for any one piece to accommodate such height. No dragon ever born could be massive enough to produce one solid piece of Onyx for even the tiniest fang of any of them. Yet somewhere inside the impossible carvings there lay the living spirits of ten of the finest warriors the Dark Tribes were likely ever to have known, and with a constant trickle of caretakers from those Tribesmen who yet lived, they worked together to keep Ubrekkya safe.
Little needed to be done by way of actual caretaking in this age; undergrowth, ivies, and the oldest of trees concealed all but the faintest trace of the sanctuary so that keeping the central chamber free of debris garnered more attention than did guarding against intruders. It was hard to imagine that at one time the forest that disguised the temple so surely now had been a bustling harbour, and the cities now gone once filled with the ancestors of his kin, all living in the open and in greater numbers than he’d ever known in his lifetime.
But none of that was now. Now there was that most uncommon of occurrences; an uninvited, and most unwanted ‘guest’. Now there was the human, casually desecrating Ubrekkya’s halls.
Wor’gashan imagined he could feel the shift in energy around him, imagined he could sense the attention of the Sentinels upon this invader. Watching as she passed below him, between the imposing shadows of the T’lech and Ekkreth warriors, the only thought wandering beneath his passive bearing was to cut her down, a dispassionate distaste lingering in his mind the longer her presence remained to taint the Dark energy of the temple.
He shifted his weight almost gingerly, armour clicking softly in Ubrekkya's silence, and prepared to descend from the shadows when new movement caught his eye.
The Ekkreth warrior, the one opposite Wor'gashan's perch, subtly shifted, the sinister span of light-resistant wings lifting with the slow precision he suspected only a Sentinel capable of executing. Behind the lenses of his helm, his gaze narrowing at the colossus before him, speculation crept in to replace his previous intentions. Within the scope of his knowledge as temple guardian, the Sentinels had never displayed the evidence of their lingering souls in such a physical way before, and to do so now could mean only one thing.
A decision lay before him now as he let his eyes drift back to the human. If he was to allow himself to believe in anything at all, it would always be his goddess, Anthia be sheltered, yet why She would ever deign to choose a mortal for such blessed service as the old texts detailed he suspected lay entirely beyond his ken. Even as he watched her now, though, the shadows around his head began to shift as well, and as he looked he noted that the T'lech warrior mirrored the Ekkreth, both of them moving in such a way that the hunched support they had given the ceiling for millennia became a posture of pride and duty.
As subtly as the statues moved, his gaze returned to the human girl who now passed the space between the Ochlem and Kethiry'ch. As she met the midway point their postures began to morph and change. No evidence in Eleasia could have convinced him of this girl’s true nature more than the temple itself, but the she appeared unaware with her eyes fixed upon the towering beauty that was Ubrekkya, dominating the centre of the Oculus Chamber, her branches extending above and beyond the opening that gave the chamber its name to let only the most determined fragments of light filter onto the three thrones at her base.
Far below the chamber floor, War'gashan recalled, her roots tapped into the ancient aquifer that fed her, no matter how the eras passed and the world changed, that system had remained intact. With unobstructed access to nutrients and water, she had been allowed to grow without limitation so that beyond the institution’s crumbling walls, her dark leaves and branches extended high above the rest of the forest, forever sheltering what lay below.
For a moment let his eyes linger upon Ubrekkya's sacred form, marvelling anew at the shade and form of her flesh; like smoke given solidity from the base of her trunk to the most extreme reaches of her tiniest branches, all covered over by the shade of twilight. He'd been astonished at how stunning a tree their Sanctuary, their Ubrekkya, was, that she could house a sentience within, and even remain an oracle after living so very, very long. And now Ubrekkya and the Sentinels knew what War'gashan never would have dared to dream could happen in his lifetime.
The Scion had arrived.
Finally did he make his way from the T'lech's shadow, spidering down the warrior's form to walk the shadows in the girl's wake, and almost as confirmation of the evidence already provided, his heart suddenly slowed in anticipation and darkness slithered behind his eyes.
As the girl, or rather young woman –she carried herself with authority, and the cloak about her form did little to disguise the curves within— approached the thrones, she paused long enough to let her fingers trail across the arm of the one that sat in the centre. There seemed a reverence to her touch. It stood to reason that being the Scion, as the Sentinels indicated she must be that she may very well know how holy and powerful Ubrekkya was. She certainly appeared to be granting a proper amount of respect, and no human alive should have known a thing about her, let alone how much respect was her due.
His heart whispered inside his chest as he observed an act no living being would have witnessed in any lifetime. The throne reserved for the Scion alone, in anticipation of her eventual arrival on the faith that on any day and for any reason she could appear, and should be given a place of her own within Anthia’s house, would finally have its rightful owner. Wor’gashan felt that utter inner silence that came when in the presence of pure balance, his heart barely beating at all, and as she sat a distant part of him recognised that anyone else would pay for such behaviour with their lives, but the voice was far from him now, a hollow echo of awareness.
In that moment of perfect balance every fibre of him began to sing, the melody growing in intensity as he approached, each nerve thrumming with a new rhythm. It was the same sensation he received on the few occasions he let his fingers trail along one of the arms of the lesser thrones. In those times it was Ubrekkya's own song resonating through him, and though this was similar, it was infinitely more pure and darker than anything he’d ever felt. He knew he could see. His mind acknowledged that images existed and registered somewhere within, yet so much Darkness filled him now that it was as if all of those images were nothing more than slightly softer shades of Dark, just noticeably softer than that which filled him to the brim.
Unable to resist any longer, he finally moved into the lesser shadows and revealed himself there in the struggling shafts of light, which glanced from his angled legs as if with fear. His movements gave of soft chitinous clicks as he progressed, six segmented legs clad in exoskeletal armour-like intimidation drawing him inexorably forward. He saw familiarity in her, not simply because her species resembled his own but for the awkward handicap of only two fleshy legs and morbidly pale skin, more often than not lacking any distinction markings at all, but because of her energy. He felt her within him, all around him. He felt her now within the very foundations of the temple, the Sentinels, and even Ubrekkya. In that moment he was willing to forgive her anything, including her obvious physical short-comings, and even found her beautiful despite them.
A spark ignited in his chest as he met her unusually steady gaze and without immediate intention, spoke.
'Wor'gashan,' he said, his voice both rich and slithering, quiet clicks accentuating the sound, though whether from the nature of his speech or his legs shifting imperceptibly below would likely be impossible for the woman to determine. 'Nith vech noch til,' he continued, glistening black eyes scrutinising her every move behind the impassive mask of his helm.
As he felt her taking the measure of him he regained the use of his wits once more, though the Darkness continued to slither and glide behind his gaze.
For her part she did sit as though she knew the throne was her own, her back with gently stiffened poise and possession.
'A pleasure to meet you as well, Wor'gashan,' she said, her voice ringing clearly through the chamber as an onyx bell struck in the silence of high ceremony. 'I am Larsinne.'
She did not rise to meet him. Of course she didn’t rise to meet him. But neither did he kneel, so he felt the field was even.
He inclined his head to her in acknowledgement though, marking that she either had the ear for Dark tongues already or she'd been taught greetings and hadn't mastered speech herself. Either was equally as likely. She could easily have found herself a tutor, for as Scion she would be drawing in and sending back out Dark energy all the time. It was really only a matter of when she’d have found a tutor, or when the ability to understand and speak Dark languages came to her.
'Tor vech ech ternith,' he tested, watching as one of her brows lifted to express a sense of oh really? Supressing a smile as his heart paused in excitement for just a moment, he pushed further; by Anthia, it seemed she had the ear.
'Arak go til neth,' he said with a wry twist to his lips, and added, 'gorthil,' for his own amusement.
'Child?' She asked, her voice cool and careless. 'By mortal reckoning I would say not. Compared to this tree, though, so are we all . . . gorthil.' She gestured casually with one delicate looking hand, yet kept her eyes on him and continued. ‘That gives only the tree the right to use such terms. As for trespassing . . .'
Wor'gashan twisted out something more like a smile then; a sharp ear and a tongue to match! Anthia be sheltered and may she forgive him for his earlier distaste, but the choosing of this mortal woman as Scion appeared to be more than wise enough.
'I know very well where the door is so if you need help finding it I can lend my aid.' She remained sitting as a queen in full court, staring quite intently upon him and he right back.
After a measuring span of mutual silence, a battle passing between them as one weighed and tested the other, the singing Darkness receded. If she was indeed the Scion then he had no hope of winning out, however that didn’t mean he had to lose. When balance returned, a slow, fluid equilibrium returning like dusk fading into night, the thrumming song in his nerves soared quietly within and only then did he finally cede and incline his head once more. "Anthia has made a fine choice in you, my Lady."
A smile spread across the Scion named Larsinne's lips, sweet but well informed. Just how informed was as yet unknown, but what she lacked in knowledge she supplemented with pride, poise, wit and a confidence unseen in others of her kin. Besides, Wor'gashan knew quite a lot and could inform, teach, and guide as much as needed. While he knew little of the role he would play in her existence, and bore only speculative knowledge of why she had been called to duty in this age, he knew he would provide all that he had to her disposal.
‘It means a lot to receive your approval, Wor’gashan.’
The soft click of claw upon stone arose behind him heralding the arrival of one of the Lesser Beasts, which in passing revealed itself to be one of the great cats, one not native to the region.
It didn't even pause to give him a cursory sniffing, but took to Larsinne's side as if by right, and sat with the same posture of regality that mirrored his mistress' own.
---
Glossary section:
Dark Tribes: The Dark Tribes are the tribes of the races both dedicated to and derived from Dark essences. Once there were many, their civilisations great and well known throughout the realm. In the age this story takes place, the Dark Tribes are little more than a myth, devices in old stories used to keep children in line and to chill the spine around a camp fire.
In all the words below, CH is pronounced as the Germans would pronounce it, or as seen in the Scottish 'loch'. Not all of the tribe names appear in this chapter, but these are the most prominent of the Tribes that used to exist in great numbers:
*Gemloch - Hard G as it 'get', GEM-loch
*Gorleth - GORE-leth.
*Ochlem - OCH-lem.
*Morden - MORE-den.
*Ekkreth - ECK-reth.
*T'lech - Short T as if with the expectation of a vowel to follow, and then right on into -lech, two syllables. T-lech
*Cthelgreth - It's actually SELL-greth, short E in both parts. The combination of letters C-T-H create the S sound in this language.
*Kethiry'ch - keth-EAR-ich.
*Vargol - VAR-goal.
*Regrath - REH-grath.
Telecth mor: Spiritual leader during the golden age of the Dark Tribes. All tribal rulers answered to the telecth mor (TELL-ess more) because of his deep connection with Dark energies, and a believed connection to Anthia herself.
In speech, the I is a long E as in 'kneel', E is short as in 'get', CH is that found in 'loch', O is short as in 'not', OR is the same as 'or'.
Nith vech noch til - It's a pleasure to meet you.
(neeth vech noch teel)
Tor vech ech ternith - You trespass here. A non-invitational phrase, or reverse invitational, formally asking someone to leave by
(tore vech ech tear-neeth) -indicating something rather than stating it.
Arak go til neth: - Loosely translated, 'can you find the door.'
(ar-ack go teel neth)
Gorthil: Little one, or child.
(gore-theel)
Ubrekkya: Within a shared language of the different tribes, ubrekkya means 'sanctuary' and was the name given to the tree ages after she had been created. She had gone by many names in many ages and Ubrekkya was merely the most recent, and one she quite enjoys. She is sentient, can sense great events over unknown distances, and in a limited way translate this knowledge to those around her. With the aide of a high priest and high priestess, attuned to her energy and of the Dark Tribes, she is able to communicate clearly. She can also communicate to the spirits still dwelling in the monumental Sentinels. Ubrekkya, seen as a special example of Anthia's power on earth, was cherished above all else and honoured as the tribes would honour Anthia herself.
The Sentinels: As the temple was being built around Ubrekkya, who had by then been around for several millennia, a warrior from each tribe who had honoured himself greatly within his tribe, having been recognised by each of the other tribes, was chosen to guard Ubrekkya and the temple, built itself to honour Anthia, their Great Mother.
Anthia: The goddess of Darkness. Also known as the Secret Keeper and the Mother of Lies.
Larsinne: Lar-see-nah. Scion of Darkness.
Scion: Scions are those chosen by the gods to be their representations on earth, given access to the essences of the gods themselves, specifically to whichever had activated them in the first place. Scions are only activated during times of greatest need, though not by 'mortal' standards. For the gods to feel their involvement to be necessary, universal balance and all of creation must be in some way put in danger. Many times one Scion alone would be activated for a specific purpose held dear to the god or goddess, or a pair to work together. In only the rarest times have more than three been called upon, and in no time recalled by even the oldest of Dragon kept records.
Lesser Beast: Beasts of the realm are particular beings with very primal power, most commonly found in the shape of animals. Of those classified as Beasts there are those known as Lesser and those known as Greater. Lesser Beasts are on occasion known to bond themselves to a mortal being to aide them in their lives, whether bound for greatness or not, though more frequently to those still sung about in the more well known epics. An example would be the great cat of Larsinne's whose particular ability to aide will be exposed later. An example of a Greater Beast would be the 'Dark Unicorn' (as yet with no better name).
I think that's about all of them.
Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy it.
Glossary at the bottom for you. Hope it doesn't scare you away too much by sheer size, but if you can bring yourself to fight through the length, let me know what you think of it.
Thanks very much,
Mally.
-----
Wor'gashan watched as the human girl made her way across the central isle of the Oculus Chamber, his vantage point quite secure as he blended within the shadows behind the sculpted ear of a T'lech warrior.
Flanking the isle stood the Sentinels, their carven ebony forms supporting the domed ceiling above, each one from a different warrior within the long forgotten Dark Tribes. As the histories read, back when the temple was still mere thought, the greatest of the ancient high priests, the telecth mor, devised a way to ensure that the temple grounds would not only be held forever sacred, but could also be secured from any peril presented by any given age. An impossible task claimed many, but none rose to challenge the word of the telecth mor.
Grand, they said, were the cities of the Tribes, and grander still those who led them, yet all would have answered to the telecth mor, who answering to Anthia alone could more impartially and with greater wisdom make the judgments that kept the Tribes in balance. It was he who opened the doors of knowledge into the secrets of Anthia and the protection she granted all of her children, such as how to entrap the living essence of any being within the glistening black bonds of True Onyx.
As the temple foundations had begun to grow, they said that warriors from every tribe strived to make themselves known by their deeds. Whether through acts of loyalty, fierce competition, bravery, will, or sheer power, once it was known that the telecth mor sought ten of the Dark Tribes’ most honoured warriors—one, he said, from each faction—, the fires had been lit. All throughout the early life of Ubrekkya’s temple, Ubrekkya herself already older than the Tribes could measure, warriors competed for the honour of a deathless half-life within the glassy confinement of what were to become known as the Sentinels.
Now, so many ages later, the temple long built and her builders less than dust, her exterior crumbling and overtaken by the forest around them, the Sentinels still stood as vigilant as ever, their surfaces curiously seamless and brazen in their defiance of time and the toll it should have taken upon them.
Wor’gashan had spent many an hour scrutinizing their design within his usually silent, spiritual watches. The only knowledge he held as certain was that none of them could have been made of True Onyx, their size too great for any one piece to accommodate such height. No dragon ever born could be massive enough to produce one solid piece of Onyx for even the tiniest fang of any of them. Yet somewhere inside the impossible carvings there lay the living spirits of ten of the finest warriors the Dark Tribes were likely ever to have known, and with a constant trickle of caretakers from those Tribesmen who yet lived, they worked together to keep Ubrekkya safe.
Little needed to be done by way of actual caretaking in this age; undergrowth, ivies, and the oldest of trees concealed all but the faintest trace of the sanctuary so that keeping the central chamber free of debris garnered more attention than did guarding against intruders. It was hard to imagine that at one time the forest that disguised the temple so surely now had been a bustling harbour, and the cities now gone once filled with the ancestors of his kin, all living in the open and in greater numbers than he’d ever known in his lifetime.
But none of that was now. Now there was that most uncommon of occurrences; an uninvited, and most unwanted ‘guest’. Now there was the human, casually desecrating Ubrekkya’s halls.
Wor’gashan imagined he could feel the shift in energy around him, imagined he could sense the attention of the Sentinels upon this invader. Watching as she passed below him, between the imposing shadows of the T’lech and Ekkreth warriors, the only thought wandering beneath his passive bearing was to cut her down, a dispassionate distaste lingering in his mind the longer her presence remained to taint the Dark energy of the temple.
He shifted his weight almost gingerly, armour clicking softly in Ubrekkya's silence, and prepared to descend from the shadows when new movement caught his eye.
The Ekkreth warrior, the one opposite Wor'gashan's perch, subtly shifted, the sinister span of light-resistant wings lifting with the slow precision he suspected only a Sentinel capable of executing. Behind the lenses of his helm, his gaze narrowing at the colossus before him, speculation crept in to replace his previous intentions. Within the scope of his knowledge as temple guardian, the Sentinels had never displayed the evidence of their lingering souls in such a physical way before, and to do so now could mean only one thing.
A decision lay before him now as he let his eyes drift back to the human. If he was to allow himself to believe in anything at all, it would always be his goddess, Anthia be sheltered, yet why She would ever deign to choose a mortal for such blessed service as the old texts detailed he suspected lay entirely beyond his ken. Even as he watched her now, though, the shadows around his head began to shift as well, and as he looked he noted that the T'lech warrior mirrored the Ekkreth, both of them moving in such a way that the hunched support they had given the ceiling for millennia became a posture of pride and duty.
As subtly as the statues moved, his gaze returned to the human girl who now passed the space between the Ochlem and Kethiry'ch. As she met the midway point their postures began to morph and change. No evidence in Eleasia could have convinced him of this girl’s true nature more than the temple itself, but the she appeared unaware with her eyes fixed upon the towering beauty that was Ubrekkya, dominating the centre of the Oculus Chamber, her branches extending above and beyond the opening that gave the chamber its name to let only the most determined fragments of light filter onto the three thrones at her base.
Far below the chamber floor, War'gashan recalled, her roots tapped into the ancient aquifer that fed her, no matter how the eras passed and the world changed, that system had remained intact. With unobstructed access to nutrients and water, she had been allowed to grow without limitation so that beyond the institution’s crumbling walls, her dark leaves and branches extended high above the rest of the forest, forever sheltering what lay below.
For a moment let his eyes linger upon Ubrekkya's sacred form, marvelling anew at the shade and form of her flesh; like smoke given solidity from the base of her trunk to the most extreme reaches of her tiniest branches, all covered over by the shade of twilight. He'd been astonished at how stunning a tree their Sanctuary, their Ubrekkya, was, that she could house a sentience within, and even remain an oracle after living so very, very long. And now Ubrekkya and the Sentinels knew what War'gashan never would have dared to dream could happen in his lifetime.
The Scion had arrived.
Finally did he make his way from the T'lech's shadow, spidering down the warrior's form to walk the shadows in the girl's wake, and almost as confirmation of the evidence already provided, his heart suddenly slowed in anticipation and darkness slithered behind his eyes.
As the girl, or rather young woman –she carried herself with authority, and the cloak about her form did little to disguise the curves within— approached the thrones, she paused long enough to let her fingers trail across the arm of the one that sat in the centre. There seemed a reverence to her touch. It stood to reason that being the Scion, as the Sentinels indicated she must be that she may very well know how holy and powerful Ubrekkya was. She certainly appeared to be granting a proper amount of respect, and no human alive should have known a thing about her, let alone how much respect was her due.
His heart whispered inside his chest as he observed an act no living being would have witnessed in any lifetime. The throne reserved for the Scion alone, in anticipation of her eventual arrival on the faith that on any day and for any reason she could appear, and should be given a place of her own within Anthia’s house, would finally have its rightful owner. Wor’gashan felt that utter inner silence that came when in the presence of pure balance, his heart barely beating at all, and as she sat a distant part of him recognised that anyone else would pay for such behaviour with their lives, but the voice was far from him now, a hollow echo of awareness.
In that moment of perfect balance every fibre of him began to sing, the melody growing in intensity as he approached, each nerve thrumming with a new rhythm. It was the same sensation he received on the few occasions he let his fingers trail along one of the arms of the lesser thrones. In those times it was Ubrekkya's own song resonating through him, and though this was similar, it was infinitely more pure and darker than anything he’d ever felt. He knew he could see. His mind acknowledged that images existed and registered somewhere within, yet so much Darkness filled him now that it was as if all of those images were nothing more than slightly softer shades of Dark, just noticeably softer than that which filled him to the brim.
Unable to resist any longer, he finally moved into the lesser shadows and revealed himself there in the struggling shafts of light, which glanced from his angled legs as if with fear. His movements gave of soft chitinous clicks as he progressed, six segmented legs clad in exoskeletal armour-like intimidation drawing him inexorably forward. He saw familiarity in her, not simply because her species resembled his own but for the awkward handicap of only two fleshy legs and morbidly pale skin, more often than not lacking any distinction markings at all, but because of her energy. He felt her within him, all around him. He felt her now within the very foundations of the temple, the Sentinels, and even Ubrekkya. In that moment he was willing to forgive her anything, including her obvious physical short-comings, and even found her beautiful despite them.
A spark ignited in his chest as he met her unusually steady gaze and without immediate intention, spoke.
'Wor'gashan,' he said, his voice both rich and slithering, quiet clicks accentuating the sound, though whether from the nature of his speech or his legs shifting imperceptibly below would likely be impossible for the woman to determine. 'Nith vech noch til,' he continued, glistening black eyes scrutinising her every move behind the impassive mask of his helm.
As he felt her taking the measure of him he regained the use of his wits once more, though the Darkness continued to slither and glide behind his gaze.
For her part she did sit as though she knew the throne was her own, her back with gently stiffened poise and possession.
'A pleasure to meet you as well, Wor'gashan,' she said, her voice ringing clearly through the chamber as an onyx bell struck in the silence of high ceremony. 'I am Larsinne.'
She did not rise to meet him. Of course she didn’t rise to meet him. But neither did he kneel, so he felt the field was even.
He inclined his head to her in acknowledgement though, marking that she either had the ear for Dark tongues already or she'd been taught greetings and hadn't mastered speech herself. Either was equally as likely. She could easily have found herself a tutor, for as Scion she would be drawing in and sending back out Dark energy all the time. It was really only a matter of when she’d have found a tutor, or when the ability to understand and speak Dark languages came to her.
'Tor vech ech ternith,' he tested, watching as one of her brows lifted to express a sense of oh really? Supressing a smile as his heart paused in excitement for just a moment, he pushed further; by Anthia, it seemed she had the ear.
'Arak go til neth,' he said with a wry twist to his lips, and added, 'gorthil,' for his own amusement.
'Child?' She asked, her voice cool and careless. 'By mortal reckoning I would say not. Compared to this tree, though, so are we all . . . gorthil.' She gestured casually with one delicate looking hand, yet kept her eyes on him and continued. ‘That gives only the tree the right to use such terms. As for trespassing . . .'
Wor'gashan twisted out something more like a smile then; a sharp ear and a tongue to match! Anthia be sheltered and may she forgive him for his earlier distaste, but the choosing of this mortal woman as Scion appeared to be more than wise enough.
'I know very well where the door is so if you need help finding it I can lend my aid.' She remained sitting as a queen in full court, staring quite intently upon him and he right back.
After a measuring span of mutual silence, a battle passing between them as one weighed and tested the other, the singing Darkness receded. If she was indeed the Scion then he had no hope of winning out, however that didn’t mean he had to lose. When balance returned, a slow, fluid equilibrium returning like dusk fading into night, the thrumming song in his nerves soared quietly within and only then did he finally cede and incline his head once more. "Anthia has made a fine choice in you, my Lady."
A smile spread across the Scion named Larsinne's lips, sweet but well informed. Just how informed was as yet unknown, but what she lacked in knowledge she supplemented with pride, poise, wit and a confidence unseen in others of her kin. Besides, Wor'gashan knew quite a lot and could inform, teach, and guide as much as needed. While he knew little of the role he would play in her existence, and bore only speculative knowledge of why she had been called to duty in this age, he knew he would provide all that he had to her disposal.
‘It means a lot to receive your approval, Wor’gashan.’
The soft click of claw upon stone arose behind him heralding the arrival of one of the Lesser Beasts, which in passing revealed itself to be one of the great cats, one not native to the region.
It didn't even pause to give him a cursory sniffing, but took to Larsinne's side as if by right, and sat with the same posture of regality that mirrored his mistress' own.
---
Glossary section:
Dark Tribes: The Dark Tribes are the tribes of the races both dedicated to and derived from Dark essences. Once there were many, their civilisations great and well known throughout the realm. In the age this story takes place, the Dark Tribes are little more than a myth, devices in old stories used to keep children in line and to chill the spine around a camp fire.
In all the words below, CH is pronounced as the Germans would pronounce it, or as seen in the Scottish 'loch'. Not all of the tribe names appear in this chapter, but these are the most prominent of the Tribes that used to exist in great numbers:
*Gemloch - Hard G as it 'get', GEM-loch
*Gorleth - GORE-leth.
*Ochlem - OCH-lem.
*Morden - MORE-den.
*Ekkreth - ECK-reth.
*T'lech - Short T as if with the expectation of a vowel to follow, and then right on into -lech, two syllables. T-lech
*Cthelgreth - It's actually SELL-greth, short E in both parts. The combination of letters C-T-H create the S sound in this language.
*Kethiry'ch - keth-EAR-ich.
*Vargol - VAR-goal.
*Regrath - REH-grath.
Telecth mor: Spiritual leader during the golden age of the Dark Tribes. All tribal rulers answered to the telecth mor (TELL-ess more) because of his deep connection with Dark energies, and a believed connection to Anthia herself.
In speech, the I is a long E as in 'kneel', E is short as in 'get', CH is that found in 'loch', O is short as in 'not', OR is the same as 'or'.
Nith vech noch til - It's a pleasure to meet you.
(neeth vech noch teel)
Tor vech ech ternith - You trespass here. A non-invitational phrase, or reverse invitational, formally asking someone to leave by
(tore vech ech tear-neeth) -indicating something rather than stating it.
Arak go til neth: - Loosely translated, 'can you find the door.'
(ar-ack go teel neth)
Gorthil: Little one, or child.
(gore-theel)
Ubrekkya: Within a shared language of the different tribes, ubrekkya means 'sanctuary' and was the name given to the tree ages after she had been created. She had gone by many names in many ages and Ubrekkya was merely the most recent, and one she quite enjoys. She is sentient, can sense great events over unknown distances, and in a limited way translate this knowledge to those around her. With the aide of a high priest and high priestess, attuned to her energy and of the Dark Tribes, she is able to communicate clearly. She can also communicate to the spirits still dwelling in the monumental Sentinels. Ubrekkya, seen as a special example of Anthia's power on earth, was cherished above all else and honoured as the tribes would honour Anthia herself.
The Sentinels: As the temple was being built around Ubrekkya, who had by then been around for several millennia, a warrior from each tribe who had honoured himself greatly within his tribe, having been recognised by each of the other tribes, was chosen to guard Ubrekkya and the temple, built itself to honour Anthia, their Great Mother.
Anthia: The goddess of Darkness. Also known as the Secret Keeper and the Mother of Lies.
Larsinne: Lar-see-nah. Scion of Darkness.
Scion: Scions are those chosen by the gods to be their representations on earth, given access to the essences of the gods themselves, specifically to whichever had activated them in the first place. Scions are only activated during times of greatest need, though not by 'mortal' standards. For the gods to feel their involvement to be necessary, universal balance and all of creation must be in some way put in danger. Many times one Scion alone would be activated for a specific purpose held dear to the god or goddess, or a pair to work together. In only the rarest times have more than three been called upon, and in no time recalled by even the oldest of Dragon kept records.
Lesser Beast: Beasts of the realm are particular beings with very primal power, most commonly found in the shape of animals. Of those classified as Beasts there are those known as Lesser and those known as Greater. Lesser Beasts are on occasion known to bond themselves to a mortal being to aide them in their lives, whether bound for greatness or not, though more frequently to those still sung about in the more well known epics. An example would be the great cat of Larsinne's whose particular ability to aide will be exposed later. An example of a Greater Beast would be the 'Dark Unicorn' (as yet with no better name).
I think that's about all of them.
Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy it.
