Post by United Tribes of Ejrahk on May 11, 2011 21:30:56 GMT -5
Kresh
Hehet stumbled into a large hall at the hall of Kresh, gulping and looking around. He had been sent here from his home, and had made the long and painful journey among strangers. His local priests had seen the fire in his eyes, and sent him as an initiate to become a priest of priests, among the holy elite in Kresh. At ten, he was old, but not too old to learn the rites. The thought that he was chosen to become a priest filled him pride, and dread. Everyone spoke of their desire to be holy, but it was impossible to block out memories of the screams of initiates.
The second his foot touched the floor, a tall, imposing woman appeared. Her hair was shorn off in ragged clumps, her face was scarred and tattooed for the god in frightening patterns. She carried a rod in one hand, and a whip in the other. It took what seemed like less than a second to cross the hall. The whip lashed out with a precision born of years of practice, lashing across his chest and ripping open his shirt and lancing the skin. Tears filled his eyes as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Before he could speak, the rod descending and struck him in the ribs. She must had struck with perfect force, for she broke nothing but he cried out. The woman stepped, back, appraising him. "Hehet, son of the Bear Tongue tribe?"
It took several seconds to breathe again. "Y-yes." She snorted, and cracked the whip. He cringed, and this time the whip again kissed his chest, trailing fire down his belly. He couldn't hold in the choked sob. "You are sinful, Hehet. Your body is filled with it, filled with demons. We must empty you, to fill you with the god. You will never again cringe from the prospect of the whip and the rod, of blessed sacrifice. To do so, you turn from Chalava. You never again will try to hold in your cries. To cry out is to please the god, and to show your passion." She cracked the whip, and he sobbed again, holding his ground. Her head nodded in faint approval.
"You will not receive comfort here. You are here to learn, to become one with the god, and to guide others among the razor sharp path. You will suffer more than you can imagine. You will be blessed beyond your greatest imagining for it." She looked him over once more, making a disgusting sound at his weeping. "Go, you will be assigned a room at the end of the hall. You have ten minutes to return to me. I am Thrah, the master of initiates. You will learn my name and hear my words always. Initiates who are late will be whipped. Do not stand there, run!"
With another sob, he ran.
The Merenaz Caliphate / Ejrahk border
Close enough to the desert to be scrub, yet far into Ejrahk to still receive precipitation, a tribe huddled deep within their tents. A storm of unusual proportions hammered the tribe with little warning, the clouds boiling over the horizon with ill will. Lightning cracked near the horses, and several rolled their eyes and struggled to bolt. Waves of rain quickly followed, and the tribe called a halt and dismounted as it seemed the world turned dark.
A young girl, Sebak, struggled to keep control of her handsome black gelding. Next to her, her brother Urbis strove to do the same. Another massive bolt of lightning struck, this time less then ten feet away from Urbis' horse. With a buck and a panicked whinny, the horse shot away. Sebak cursed, spurring his own mount after his. She was twelve and he was nine, yet they already kept their seat on a horse better than many foreign adults. Still, it was impossible for his small arms to wrestle a horse mad with fear into stopping. For nearly a half hour he clung miserably to his mare, hands growing stiff and sore in her mane as he prayed there were no rabbit holes along this mad flight. Sebak flew after her brother, unable to catch the bridle, but unwilling to turn aside.
In their mad flight, the pair vanished before their family even knew what had happened. Their trail was dashed away by the pouring rain and wind, and pursuit was deemed unacceptable when shelter had to be erected immediately. The children eventually outran the storm... and found that their fleet, powerful mounts had taken them into the actual desert. As soon as the grass gave way to sand, so did the rain. The fear of a horse had taken a pair of scared, ill equipped children straight into the lands of the Merenaz Caliphate.
Summary
-- A young initiate receives their "welcome" to the Kresh priesthood.
--Two young Ejrahk of a minor tribe become separated in a storm, mistakenly fleeing into the desert of Merenaz Caliphate.
Hehet stumbled into a large hall at the hall of Kresh, gulping and looking around. He had been sent here from his home, and had made the long and painful journey among strangers. His local priests had seen the fire in his eyes, and sent him as an initiate to become a priest of priests, among the holy elite in Kresh. At ten, he was old, but not too old to learn the rites. The thought that he was chosen to become a priest filled him pride, and dread. Everyone spoke of their desire to be holy, but it was impossible to block out memories of the screams of initiates.
The second his foot touched the floor, a tall, imposing woman appeared. Her hair was shorn off in ragged clumps, her face was scarred and tattooed for the god in frightening patterns. She carried a rod in one hand, and a whip in the other. It took what seemed like less than a second to cross the hall. The whip lashed out with a precision born of years of practice, lashing across his chest and ripping open his shirt and lancing the skin. Tears filled his eyes as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Before he could speak, the rod descending and struck him in the ribs. She must had struck with perfect force, for she broke nothing but he cried out. The woman stepped, back, appraising him. "Hehet, son of the Bear Tongue tribe?"
It took several seconds to breathe again. "Y-yes." She snorted, and cracked the whip. He cringed, and this time the whip again kissed his chest, trailing fire down his belly. He couldn't hold in the choked sob. "You are sinful, Hehet. Your body is filled with it, filled with demons. We must empty you, to fill you with the god. You will never again cringe from the prospect of the whip and the rod, of blessed sacrifice. To do so, you turn from Chalava. You never again will try to hold in your cries. To cry out is to please the god, and to show your passion." She cracked the whip, and he sobbed again, holding his ground. Her head nodded in faint approval.
"You will not receive comfort here. You are here to learn, to become one with the god, and to guide others among the razor sharp path. You will suffer more than you can imagine. You will be blessed beyond your greatest imagining for it." She looked him over once more, making a disgusting sound at his weeping. "Go, you will be assigned a room at the end of the hall. You have ten minutes to return to me. I am Thrah, the master of initiates. You will learn my name and hear my words always. Initiates who are late will be whipped. Do not stand there, run!"
With another sob, he ran.
The Merenaz Caliphate / Ejrahk border
Close enough to the desert to be scrub, yet far into Ejrahk to still receive precipitation, a tribe huddled deep within their tents. A storm of unusual proportions hammered the tribe with little warning, the clouds boiling over the horizon with ill will. Lightning cracked near the horses, and several rolled their eyes and struggled to bolt. Waves of rain quickly followed, and the tribe called a halt and dismounted as it seemed the world turned dark.
A young girl, Sebak, struggled to keep control of her handsome black gelding. Next to her, her brother Urbis strove to do the same. Another massive bolt of lightning struck, this time less then ten feet away from Urbis' horse. With a buck and a panicked whinny, the horse shot away. Sebak cursed, spurring his own mount after his. She was twelve and he was nine, yet they already kept their seat on a horse better than many foreign adults. Still, it was impossible for his small arms to wrestle a horse mad with fear into stopping. For nearly a half hour he clung miserably to his mare, hands growing stiff and sore in her mane as he prayed there were no rabbit holes along this mad flight. Sebak flew after her brother, unable to catch the bridle, but unwilling to turn aside.
In their mad flight, the pair vanished before their family even knew what had happened. Their trail was dashed away by the pouring rain and wind, and pursuit was deemed unacceptable when shelter had to be erected immediately. The children eventually outran the storm... and found that their fleet, powerful mounts had taken them into the actual desert. As soon as the grass gave way to sand, so did the rain. The fear of a horse had taken a pair of scared, ill equipped children straight into the lands of the Merenaz Caliphate.
Summary
-- A young initiate receives their "welcome" to the Kresh priesthood.
--Two young Ejrahk of a minor tribe become separated in a storm, mistakenly fleeing into the desert of Merenaz Caliphate.