Kaitar
06-09-2005, 01:40 AM
<DIV> <DIV>((please ignore spelling mistakes, cuz I'm sure there are a few :smileytongue: ))</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>The docks near the ocean, always teeming with activity and life. Birds called overhead, and from the sea there was a fresh breeze that held back any damp, decayed smell of the ancient jungles and swamps. The water - blue as the sky above and nearly as calm - stretched for countless miles beyond the continent of Kunark until the kissed distant shores that most Iksar would never set foot. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Cabilis and its temples were not far off. Rising from the jungle like old protectors were the stone statues of fallen Iksar heros, errected hundreds of years earlier in times when the Sebilisian empire was not so threatened by Sarnak and other forces, as it was just then. But not matter, business was good...war and strife was a profitable time for a merchant that was sending out ships to the isles and outposts around Kunark's straights and coasts. Supplies - food, medicine, weapons, armor... Zyei Ahseijz dealt in all of it, and made himself a rich man. Well, richer than he had been born. His brood had always been fairly well off.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>The sun glared hotly down on the still, pristine waters, and he held a clawed hand over his eyes to shield them from the bright reflective lights. He watched his ship pulling away from the docks... about to sail on its long journey around the south and make its rounds. Cabilis was waiting for him, his home. His great love and his greatest enemy...such a lair of deciet and trickery it had become over the past years... the noble were devoured by the hungry and the greedy. Only Zyei, the little merchant of Cabilis, seemed able to keep himself afloat as all his competitors and enemies sank under in the turmoil of such hard times.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>The sea air...he could taste the salt on the tip of his tongue and it stung his nose, and the way the sun glared so violently off the glass still water. His heart felt heavy. Somewhere even in this dream, he knew when he woke and opened his eyes, Cabilis would be gone and there would be Freeport, dark and brooding, musty, dying...</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>----------------</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Zyei woke with the smell of the ocean still vivid in his nostrils. He flexed his clawed fingers and dragged them slowly across the blankets, almost angrily. Even he - who put up such a coldly uncaring front - felt a homesickness that all the other Iksar felt. He hid it when they did not, but at times it felt as strong as an iron grip on his throat, threatening to choke him. Those moments when he was alone, he allowed the hate and disgust rise in his heart. What had they become? Pawns to some Lich, thralls to the soft skins? Had they become truly what everyone called them...were they merely just lizards? How could they let Cabilis go? How could they stay in this place... it would be better to drown in the ocean trying to return than it would be to stay here a moment longer. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Zyei's claws, sharp and well kept...deadly little things...dug into the sheets and tore them slightly. And then, as if something broke and snapped inside of him, his fingers loosened their grip and the intense glare of hate in his eyes was gone, replaced by that strange, distantly amused, passionless cold that had served him well for so long.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>He was alone, no one was in the two room house with him. Where the others had gone, he could not guess. They each had their own agenda despite being "allied" with eachother. Iszjin had been busily trying to make money, Zyrik was gone away training his skills. Zyei himself had been working on taking up a trade, as it had been briefly discussed it might be beneficial. The younger ones...probably off training, who knew?</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>He sat up slowly and looked around the empty room. His body ached faintly with the previous day's work. Zyei had taken up the hammer at the forge to learn smithing... a strange choice for such a small Iksar who would have been better suited at alchemy or tailoring. But perhaps that was exactly why he'd done it, to challenge himself as well as make the others think twice about him. Now, as his lungs burned oddly ...he wondered at the wisdom behind his choice. He had not been coughing the past few days, Rasza's medicine must have been working...and moving out the wet, dirty Scale Yard had definately helped...but something inside was still not right. Perhaps it never would be again, though breathing in the hot air and coal dust of the forge was a stupid mistake on his part. One he would learn to live with, though. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>------------</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>The work in the forge was hard for him. The hammer was heavy, and it was hot and dry. He was no mammal, he could not sweat out the extra heat... his body fought to keep its temperature somewhat regular, but Zyei ignored the discomfort. He had learned, when young, to ignore physical discomfort while fighting off his many illnesses. His arm was cramped with overuse as he lifted the mallet high and brought it down on the red hot iron bar again, making sparks fly in a brilliant display.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Some barbarians that were there turned to stare at the small Iksar that was obviously not built for such hard, heavy work. A few of them snickered, one or two... more "compassionate" than their kin... looked on the little Iksar with a bit of pity. If Zyei was aware of their pity or contempt, he didn't give them the pleasure of showing it. The hammer came down again, ringing with another blow of sparks... he kept working on the sword he was trying to make.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>After some hours, his muscles had gone numb and no longer hurt, but the burning, elusive ache in his chest kept growing bit by bit. It was a strange feeling, not really pain, and not sickness...he couldn't put his finger on it.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>"Lizard... ? Hey, you...lizard!... Get out of the forge before you keel over into the fire and we gotta eat fried snake tonight..."</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Zyei blinked and looked over his shoulder...and up... at a tall, hairy brute of a barbarian who was grinning in a good natured way. The stupid oaf didn't even consider it an insult to call him a lizard. Zyei hissed and was about to tell the barbarian to quit bothering him and go find a mud puddle to roll in when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the large tub of water used to cool hot metal. He looked like death warmed over, enough that even a "soft skin" could see he wasn't well. He was pale, and his pupils were dialated so they were no longer serpentine slits but black, inky ovals. His scales were dull colored and did not shine with their usual well groomed gleam. Zyei lowered the hammer slowly, feeling his arm shaking as he dropped it onto the anvil. He said nothing to the barbarian as he pushed past and started to climb the stairs that led back up to the street.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>It was night! He had been working so hard that the whole day had past without him knowing it. There were no stars, but a cool breeze was blowing, helping to cool his scales down and ease the shakiness he felt. The place stank like fish and man, despite the breeze, he could not get the stink of Freeport to leave his nose. Even if he were to go back to Cabilis right that moment, Zyei thought the stench might never leave his memory. It felt soaked into his skin and the pores under his scales, every bit of his being saturated with that awful stink. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Zyei leaned against a brick wall of the tavern for a moment, feeling unusually depressed. It was not like him to get a situation worry him, perhaps he had pushed himself too hard working those past few days and it was taking its toll mentally as well as physically. His boot toe was half submerged in a dank little mud puddle, and he silently watched the mucky liquid swirl around the leather for a few moments. Normally he would have been kicking the mud off his boots and making some scowling remark about the habits of mammals, but tonight...alone in the alley... he didn't have the energy or the audience to put up such a display of Iksarian pride.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Zyei's eyes started to drift close in an exhausted way. He just wanted a moment longer to rest before he walked all the way back to West Freeport to his new rooms, the thought of some clear, cool water to wash away the stench of Freeport and the grime of the forge was a comforting thought. Tomorrow he would rest a bit, maybe sell some wares he had gathered... put on that red silk robe he'd bought for himself and pretend he was still in Cabilis and not far away in Freeport.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><EM><FONT color=#ff0033>"You dream of Cabilis even though you hated it... your heart sits heavy in your chest for a place you once detested. You have found there are worse things than being a runt in the City of Scales, and now you regret how you took it all for granted?"</FONT></EM></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Zyei blinked, that voice?! Where had it come from, who was watching him dozing off in the alley? His clawed hand slid to his belt, fingers curling around the cool hilt of his long knives. He was not as strong as Zyrik or Iszjin, but he was faster and could cut a throat quickly enough to save himself, if he had to. His eyes, a moment ago bleary with need of rest, were now sharply focused towards the darkness of the alley ahead of him, narrowed and watching for any movement in the gloom.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>"You'd better show yourself... I don't like being spied on."</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>He almost considered it might be the priest or the monk playing a trick on him, but no...that voice, horrible and slow...coming from somewhere deep in the bowels of his memory. His finger slid along the curve of his knife, almost carressing the sharp blade in a loving way. He did not enjoy fighting, but he loved the killing part of it, and some ancient instinct was sharpening that urge to taste blood on his tongue. Fear...yes, it was fear, sharp and bitter. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><EM><FONT color=#ff0033>"Ah, you feel it then. Let it flow into you Zyei, merchant of Cabilis. That is why the Iksar will always be the strongest people of Norrath. While others would cower in their fear, the Iksar rise to meet it with open arms, to embrace the gift Cazic Thule has given to his children. Even you...the "heretic" who serves Cazic in ways you do not understand, relishes this taste of Fear. "</FONT></EM></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Something moved in the shadows...large...with jerking, un-natural movements. He could not make it out clearly, but a stench of decay hit his nose so strong that Zyei nearly doubled over and retched. His lips curled back into a terrible snarl as he pulled the knife from his belt, waving it in a graceful way in front of him, like a serpent swaying and ready to strike. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><EM><FONT color=#ff0033>"Cabilis is gone...the Cabilis you knew is gone. The Iksar are lost in this place, so many give up their Faith in Fear. So few left to fight for it. You don't believe in it Zyei, but you already are one of Cazic's chosen vessels. Why else would such a small Iksar live? Where else would he get such talents for survival? It is true....Cazic our Father only gives you the tools, it is up to us to use them. Only the strong can recognize and utilize what they are given, Zyei Ahseijz. Before you lies an empty field of the bones of the weak, those that say Cazic Thule is dead. Know that if there are those left that still believe... He can not be dead. Aren't you and your ...friends...proof Cazic Thule is well and alive? You know it in your heart..."</FONT></EM></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>The rotten, horrible smell was suddenly so bad that Zyei's head spun, he lashed out with his curved long knife, feeling it tear into something dry...something almost like old rags or leather. He couldn't see, the darkness of the alley was too deep for his vision to make out what was there, but the weight of the thing - and the terrible smell and sudden shock of fear it brought - crushed him against the stone wall, pinning him there, suffocating. His lungs suddenly seemed to burst with such an awful pain not even someone as accustomed to ignoring discomfort as Zyei could hold back a strangled scream. It was muffled, lost in the blackness and sucked up by the dead weight of whatever had fallen over him.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>His own shriek...the ear-bursting shriek of a Dirge that had been training his voice to drive enemies mad - woke him from where he was slumped against the cold tavern wall. A dog barked and someone from inside their homes yelled a curse at the noise. Zyei's eyes were wide, his breath came in short gasps...but his chest no longer ached with that deep, strange sickness. It was gone, his illness was gone and he could pull a normal breath of air with no pain. For a split second Zyei forgot his terror at the horrible nightmare in amazement. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>But his relief was gone a moment later when a horrible stench that came on a stagnant breeze from the dark alley made his body stiffen. It was the smell... but it had been a dream! Zyei hissed deeply in his throat, and like a child forcing himself to look in the closet for the supposed boogey-man, the Iksar slid cautiously along the alley wall. He had not been down this particular alley, it appeared not many did come down this way...it was dank and wet, the bricks were coated with the slime of filth from being unwashed and untouched by a clean air for so long. Rotten...decayed... the essence of Freeport seemed to be confined in this single, narrow passage.</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Above, the moon...covered by the thick clouds the wind had blown in...peeked out from its prison for an instant, covering the long alley with a pale, eerie light that cast long shadows. Far in the back, amidst some boxes and old crates, half hidden by the junk...Zyei's sharp eyes caught the gleam of metal. Silently, he crept forward...drawn to that speck of brightness in the shadows. He glanced briefly up at the moon... like a cold, passionless eye the remaining disc seemed to search for its twin, blinded and scattered ...still burning even after all these years, up in the heavens. Luclin wasn't visible that moment, and for some odd reason, Zyei was glad it wasn't. One good eye...one blind one...staring down on them all...</DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>He kicked aside the boxes and crates. A rat, disturbed from its meal, scuttled away with a few faint squeaks. The thing moved, the glint of metal shifted... Zyei stared silently. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>The maggots and beetles that had found their bounty in the decayed body of Setissdraken made the Inquisitor almost seem alive, as if he were writhing in stiff jointed agony on the cold stone ground. The corpse was decaying...scales were rotting off, the face eaten away by a dog or a rat, revealing two empty, dark eye sockets and a skeletal, sharp toothed grin. A dagger, much like the one Zyei had on his belt, was lodged into the chest plate between the jointed metal of the underarm and torso. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Zyei fell to his knees slowly and leaned foward. It was far more shocking seeing Setiss of Besh as a corpse than was in his dreams. He had heard the Inquisitor had died in some strange, shadey way...but he couldn't really believe it. Not Setissdraken, he had been above all things. His Faith had been so deeply cut into his Fear that it radiated, making all Iksar know that Cazic was watching them. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>With his hand, Zyei reached out and nudged the body, still not believing what he saw. It rocked stiffly, a few maggots fell out of the open places in the rusted armor and squrimed on the rocks. </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV>Cabilis was gone...old Cabilis would not rise again. It was as dead as the Inquisitor on the cobblestone, though none of them wanted to believe it. But he saw now what must be done, with more vision and determination than before. Perhaps this was some kind of "Faith" that Iszjin and Zyrik said they believed in. They would make a new Cabilis. Cazic Thule WOULD punish those that were too weak to use the gifts he had given them, and instead licked the boots of the soft skinned ones. Zyei stood slowly and for a moment bowed his head towards the Inquisitor...and mourned both the loss of a great priest and of Cabilis. After a silent moment, he turned and started toward West Freeport. If Zyrik would be the Arm of Thule, and Iszjin the Will of Thule, then Zyei the little merchant would be Thule's Voice, and he believed it was so.</DIV></DIV><p>Message Edited by Kaitar on <span class=date_text>06-08-2005</span> <span class=time_text>02:42 PM</span>