Same as It Ever Was (Part 24)

Zeke begins his tale from the beginning, which makes sense.

Once upon a time, a sith-makar was born without an arm, and bereft of a leg. The mother of this sith was inconsolable. For in Am’shere how could such a child survive? She took her child and hid it away from all others, enduring the trial of raising the youngling all on her own. It was a trial that she should have left to others.

Once, the child that she raised all alone, believed that she was driven mad by the fact that her child was born… broken. Incomplete and so very vulnerable. That the effort of raising such a child broke her heart and her mind. This is what the child believed, but the truth was that Maugrim had her heart and mind, and that he whispered in her ear that her child would be a bane unto the world, and so she sought to make true the name she gave that child. - That he should be Broken Beyond Repair.

She abused her child heavily, beating him, taunting him. Forcing him to do things that a child with only one arm and one leg found difficult and often humiliating. She raised him up, and kept him far from other people long past the point when he should have chosen caste and people of his own. Finally, nearing a hundred years of age… The child fled the nest and out into the world to learn something of it.

The child traveled the world, using a crutch to get around, until, drawn but unknown reason, he made his way to a temple of the Dragonfather in the lands of humans, and therein found limbs of crystal made for a sith such as he. A gift of the Dragonfather, given to him after he completed his training as a priest.

Even these gifts could not however teach the child self-worth and self-love, and he struggled through life, eventually making his way to Alexandria, where he met a female of his kind whom he wished very much to protect. She had run afoul of a fae creature, and so, on the cusp of becoming cihuaa with her, he sacrificed himself to the fae creature to save her.

In that tower, he faced horrors the likes of which are never meant to be known by a sentient being. Hunger. Torture. Thirst. He was experimented upon and made whole. Brought to the brink of death a thousand times and left to hunger through it all for the fae woman was curious about the nature of Forgotten and sought to make him eat of sentient flesh. He could not hear the Dragonfather’s voice in this tower, but he never lost faith that he would be rescued. That the Dragonfather would not forget him. He would in the end, have rather starved to death than to eat that flesh. He withered away in body, but grew stronger and stronger in spirit.

Then at last he was rescued, but not whole. No one could understand the pain he had endured. His cihuaa for whom he had sacrificed so much could not understand. She called him Forgotten. Called him the child of Forgotten. Finally, she pushed him away entirely and left him alone to recover from the pain of his enduring trial.

It was not until others who cared for him began to show him kindness that did he actually fully recover. It was not until he went away for a time, to live in the shelter of the Dragonfather’s grace and tend only to infants who needed him to hold them that did he understand. That he was meant for greatness. That he was meant to suffer, to show others that suffering does not mean that one is broken. Sometimes it makes them a light.

Telamon knows this story. He's heard it from Zeke before. But it doesn't make it any easier to hear it again. There's a certain truth: sometimes those who suffer the most become the best at tending to others' suffering.

That doesn't mean Telamon likes it very much.

And so the half-sil listens until Zeke's tale is done, before speaking. "Do you think your counterpart... well, fell from grace? For lack of a better term. That would match up with what some of us dreamed about." He exhales. "It's going to make this harder, that's for sure. Especially if we have to... salvage him, somehow."

Aryia had only gotten bits and pieces over the years, until experiencing the latter parts herself. Still, she couldn't help the frown that pulled down at her features as the tale went on. She herself didn't suffer in the same manner in the slightest, but still a twang of pain tenses in her throat regardless.

She nods along with Telamon in agreement. There's probably something to salvage there, at the very least, if the rest of this crew has been similar thus far. At least that's her thought as she glances to Yiara.

Though Rune has some familiarity with Zeke's story, this is the first time she has heard the entirety of it in detail. However, she is respectful enough that she doesn't even reach for her notepad. There are some stories that are meant to be shared, but this one belongs to the Makari male in front of her, and it no other.

There are points where her lips tighten, at what Zeke was put through by his mother, by the Fae, and even by the female who was supposed to be his beloved life-mate. Her blue eyes flick to Harkashan, then away again. As if she couldn't imagine ever doing such a thing, not to someone she loved. However, she makes no such commentary, only giving quiet, attentive respect.

At the end, when Telamon speaks, she gives a small nod of her head. "The dream didn't feel entirely mindless. Not like some of the Forgotten we've encountered before." She seems thoughtful. "But, I don't know of any way of helping someone once they are lost to the hunger, even partially."

Simony listens to Zeke's story, only having heard bits and pieces over time, only knowing for sure that somehow, Zeke had two artificial limbs.

"This quest has certainly allowed us to get to know everyone all the better." She dabs at a few tears that roll down her cheeks. "We've all been through adversity, and yet, still we do what we do. Perhaps what we do is all the more important because of what we've experienced. Maybe so that others might not have to go through such things..."

The Goblin looks between Zeke and Telamon. "We've still got this. We can reach him, even if he has fallen." She gestures to the group. "I honestly believe that all of us combined can do anything."

Tales of tribulations are unfortunately not uncommon amongst the Sith-makar. Especially for those who've lived through the Charn Invasions. Harkashan is quiet as Zeke speaks of his personal tale, and his usual rumble turns to something quieter so that the moment can hang in the air with the appropriate amount of attention it deserves.

Harkashan is uncertain if Zeke's egg-mother is someone deserving of any kind of forgiveness, and the same for the Fae, but his focus lies more on where the hopes shines in Zeke's history, rather than the great sea of darkness. Only made to glint that much shinier thanks to its depths.

Shankahar rumbles softly, walking close to Zeke and Harkashan (as they are fellow sith-makar, even if from another timeline). He's leading the walk, and while the jungle is a vast place that can, at times, be full of terrors, at the moment, it is merely the source of an occasional screech off in the distance. Runelei's not far behind, either, although she seems to be keeping a keen eye out for threats. Paranoia's a healthy thing to have when traveling between settlements in Am'shere.

"I am deeply sorry for everything that has happened to you, kin," Shankahar says gently to Zeke. "Especially if... this happened to Maxitia-mayana, your counterpart. Even if in part. The tragedies on their own are great. Together..."

"And yet Zeke's here, despite all of them happening to him." Nala smiles brightly as she holds Telanmo's hand. She's misty-eyed. (Nala is particularly easy to drive to tears, but Zeke hasn't told the whole of his story to her before, and so she's crying.)

Telanmo frowns as he looks over at Shankahar. "But... If Zeke and Harkashan haven't crossed paths until somewhat recently... Then why would you and Maxitia-mayana cross paths in the way you have?"

"I do not know." Shankahar rumbles another noise of discontent, before he eyes Harkashan. "Do you have a dragon bonded with your community, your kin, where you are from?"

Zeke falls silent in the wake of his story, nodding his gratitude to the others for their words and their listening. "Thisss one isss here. For all that hasss happened, thisss one hasss endured. It sseemss to thiss one that thiss other wassss perhapss offered ssome ssalvation by a deity other than the Dragonfather. Perhapss thisss isss what hass driven him along another path."

Aryia scratches her head. What Zeke brings up is a good point. "Probably a deity that let your counterpart embrace the hunger and drive it on their terms rather than fight it. Sometimes it is easier to go with the flow and nudge the course," she offers as potential insight, casting a side glance to the others as they discuss some kind of dragon bond. <Handspeech/Tongues>

"Things can change just from tiny details, Shankahar," Telamon says quietly. "One of my mentors taught me about that. You stop to check the lacing on your bracer, and just miss someone passing by. And such changes can add up quickly. The good news is that if you're aware of the path ahead sometimes you can nudge things. An errant stone flying towards a window -- but if you're quick, you can throw another stone, deflect the first. Hopefully."

The archmage rubs his chin, and offers Simony a smile. "I for one appreciate the voice of support in this. We do these things not because they are easy, but because they are necessary."

"That would make some sense." Rune gives a nod of understanding with Zeke's statement. "The only other person I know who has survived such a thing and come out mostly whole is Skielstregar, and I believe that there was something supernatural at play there, too." It seems that it is not always the same gods who have a hand in the lives of their counterparts. "I'd guess we're looking at a different one than gave calling to Zeke." Though, she doesn't seem certain of that.

Like her own counterpart, Rune seems to be keeping an eye on their surroundings, hands resting on the hilts of her blades, in case they are needed at a moment's notice. She is never one to go unprepared in Am'shere. Never again.

"I do." Harkashan answers, walking in-step with Shankahar. "Though it is not something I can speak easily of, my community are indeed bonded by Promise to one of the Greater Dragons." But not a deity. "Their bond with that Dragon changed the fate of our community." And is likely a Story that Nala is not aware of herself.

He tilts his head a bit, then looks back; "They exists here as well. And no doubt are listening with great interest." The Sith-makar then adds. "For they enjoy... collecting moments such as these." He then glances aside to Rune, as she speaks of Brother Skielstregar. A deep guttural rumble coming from him for a moment, before his attention returns to the great jungle around them.

The Goblin offers the teeny-tiny dragon upon her shoulder a piece of apple, the fruit procured from the pouch on her belt.

She looks to Telanmo, "Your timeline and our timeline diverged somewhere in the past. Where in ours, a specific decision was made, while in your, a /different/ decision was made. Given the focus on, well, the group of us... it is likely a decision one of us made that caused the initial difference."

"That's just my working theory anyways. Perhaps we're just meant to be the ones to help make things right. Maybe it wasn't our past decisions that were important to this story, but the ones we make now..." She nods to Telamon, a grin on her face. "Not just necessary, Telamon. They are the right thing to do. It is kindness, and that is the only thing that we have in a cruel, unforgiving world."

"Sounds similar enough to yours, Shan." Runelei is smiling at Shankahar, but then she returns to eyeing the jungle like she expects blades to come out of it. Or jaguar claws. Or... anything else.

"I also cannot speak overly much of Nepantla." Shankahar says, eyeing Harkashan again. "If yours exists here as well... perhaps they are the same entity? Nepantla is merely only one of their names they have given me. It is an old term, referring to the distance between bodies of water--held as conduits to the divine and the sacred..."

"Blood is like water," Nala says softly.

That draws a blink from Telanmo. "Huh?" he says, looking back down at Nala. "What do you mean?"

Nala looks oddly... drowsy. Her golden eyes don't much appear wholly focused on the moment. And then she blinks when Telanmo worriedly touches her shoulder. "Huh?"

Shankahar rumbles a little. He looks to Harkashan. "You should speak with the Elder of my people when we get there. She is wise. Old as can be, but wise. And trusting enough of outsiders." He even tosses a teasing joke in Runelei's direction. "She likes Runelei enough to suggest that Lei-Lei could be a nest-minder one year." (That prompts an eye-roll from Runelei.)

Zeke glances toward Nala, his eyes narrowing a little bit. "Yessss. Blood ISSS like water." It's an old thought among some sith, but one that he is surprised to hear from a soft-skin. He shakes his head and continues to eye Nala for a long moment. "We ssshould hurry." With that, he focuses more on walking than anything else.

Aryia bobs her head in agreement- small changes can have massive, cascading affects. Their intervention, or putting their counterparts in place for the intervention, is what is more than likely necessary. A grey ear flicks. There is a slight glance to Nala's utterance, but nothing is said about it. Save for reaching into a pocket and thumbing the hard edge of a crystal.

A huff escapes her, and she doffs her jacket to tie it around her waist. No matter the realm, Am'shere is just too damn humid.

Telamon absently draws his staff from his haversack, using it as a guide as he walks along with the others. "And yet, Simony... we are here with recognizable counterparts." The sorcerer's brow furrows. "Which suggests something I find mildly annoying. A form of predestination, if you will -- that certain things will happen, regardless of changes. Even though there are differences, the song remains the same, whether played on lute or Animus harp."

Tel flicks his eyes to Nala as well, and hrms. "Do you mean the old saying, 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb'? That one gets misquoted a lot. But it's very true: sometimes the bonds you forge are stronger than the ones you inherit."

GAME: Simony rolls knowledge/religion: (14)+16: 30

"I wonder if you're looking for the same shadow I am..." The idle thought strikes her as Rune looks to her counterpart and that same watchful expression. "Never did find the one who killed me, so he's still out there, somewhere." Her voice trails off, looking into the forest. There hasn't been hide nor hair of the sage and his dark forces who preyed on her party those long months ago. Not even a whisper.

However, her attention doesn't linger on that long as the comment from Nala seems to seize everyone's focus briefly. She seems less worried about the words themselves, and more about the way that Nala looks in that moment, "Are you alright?" The question is given with a raised eyebrow. "I imagine we'll have the chance, soon. If the Elders of Shakahar's village are anything like the ones I know from Harkashan's people, they should be welcoming."

"I do not know if they are the same as the one I speak of." Harkashan answers. "Mine can be known as Thirku." It listens to the Changes of the World and the Whirling of Fate. The Sith-makar answers as others speak of blood being like water. Something he prefers not to comment on too much.

He then taps tails with Shankahar. "But I look forward to meeting your Eldest. Are they Speaker or Shaman?" He inquires with curiosity.

Simony raises an eyebrow as Telmon expresses his mild annoyance, her expression thoughtful. "The fact that we might not have free will is a mildly ... disconcerting thought. We don't like the idea that things happen the way they happen, and that there's nothing we can do about it." She rubs at her face. "I think it only happens for hmm big things. Like... we can decide what we want to have for dinner... but a demon invasion will still happen no matter what, IF it's meant to happen."

"Which in a way makes sense. It could be that these things that seem unchangeable are, in fact, changeable still... IF you can find that one decision that sets the whole thing in motion."

Simony hmmms. "If I recall correctly... the Sith have it that blood contains memory. Water is considered to be associated with the divine, and since blood does contain some water... this means the Memory of the Blood IS divine. At least, that is what certain scholars posit."

"She is a Shaman, although she has not practiced her magic in some time now." Shankahar rumbles happily to Harkashan. "But she still insists on cooking. It is her one joy in this life."

"It feels like I'm looking for a lot of shadows," Runelei responds to Rune with a small smile that doesn't linger long. "My father. My murderer..."

Her voice trails off as she looks at Nala. Even Yiara signs, "You good?" at Nala, a brow creased in worry.

"I'm fine." Nala says, rubbing a hand on her temple. She looks worried, mostly because other people are worried about her. "I don't even remember saying anything." But Simony's words about blood and water make her look thoughtful and quiet for a long time.

The group continues to walk. Without incident, they travel through the jungle, resting as needed, and then, at long last, they reach a settlement. It's not the same as where Harkashan grew up, but it feels familiar, as though they were siblings but not twins. There are people at play. At work. Hatchlings and young makari dart through the settlement, laughing as they pounce upon each other. Craftspeople are hard at work on weaving, forging, painting, and more.

A particular set of colorful banners that are being hung up has Shankahar's eyes nictating. "Is it time already?" he asks. "The rain festival! Atemoztli--"

And then there's a sight for sore eyes for some people. An aged sith-makar woman advances forward, her age-worn dark-green scales and one good orange reptilian eye, a symbol of the Death-singing Dragon around her neck. "Elder Miquitlani," Shankahar says with a great bow. "At long last, we have returned home."

Miquitlani--who it seems, is the same in two times--chuckles affectionately. "I am glad to see such. Welcome, visitors. You have come just in time to call the rain."

Most of this is only vaguely familiar to Zeke as he has never seen the settlement that Harkashan hails from. Much less the one that Shankahar does. He notes the arrival of the elder and respectfully bows his head to her. "Ssssa. Greetingssss Elder." He will leave the speaking to others who are better at it than he, even if they are not of the People.

Telamon's thoughts are a mixture of happiness and amused exasperation. It seems some things are constants across the timelines, and the old makari priestess is one of them. However, he smiles at the elder, making a deep bow and mirroring Shankahar.

"We have heard of you, Elder," Telamon says politely. Easier to say that than 'I met your counterpart on the far side of time'. "It is an honor to be here. May I present to you Nala Branfeax, and her cihuaa Telanmo Atlon?" He gestures to the couple with a grin.

The Goblin is instantly distracted by the painters, simply finding a clear spot on the ground and sitting down cross-legged. She watches with wide eyes as they work their craft with colours and form.

When the elder Sith approaches, Simony pulls herself away reluctantly, moving to catch up with the others.

"Peace on your nest.", she intones in Draconic, as she as heard so many times before. A deep bow is given as well.

Aryia tilts her head at Nala, but soon that is waylaid by the settlement they end up at. She's been to a few herself in her time, curious, but soon she's before the Elder. There's no recognition in her eyes, the first time meeting her, but still regardless, she bows along with the others. "Peace on your nest," she gestures, before quirking a brow towards Telamon. Cihuaa already? Heh. <HAndspeech/Tongues>

Perhaps Harkashan should have recognized by description. But when he spots Elder Miquitlani, his tail takes on a more happy sway. "Elder Miquitlani." He speaks her name, bowing at the exact same time and in the same manner as Shankahar, looking like a set of twins for a moment - regardless of them indeed not being twins.

The festival of rain. Hmm, it would seem that much like his name is akin to lava, Shankahar's path has taken one of water. Of change. And it certainly looks like they too have prospered here in their own ways.

He wonders what the story is there.

There is something oddly familiar and yet wholly strange about the village. Rune had spent quite some time in Am'shere with Harkashan, but this has an uncanny valley feel to it, faces that seem familiar but different at the same time. "This feels weird, right?" She doesn't actually seem to be looking for confirmation.

Instead, she looks from the banners towards the arriving Elder, the quirk of a smile lighting on her face at someone familiar in a sea of faces that seem wholely 'other' to her. "Peace on your nest, Elder." Because it is less confusing than saying: 'Good to see you again' to a stranger. She also saves using the native Makari tongue for another time as well.

For now, Rune just moves to stand next to Harkashan. The steady feel of him is enough to ward off the dream like feel of being somewhere familiar and strange at the same time.

Nala blushes a little as Telamon introduces her, and she curtsies as Telanmo bows. "It's nice to meet you," she says. "Telanmo and I are sorcerers."

She proceeds to introduce everyone who hasn't already been named. Miquitlani makes a happy rumble. "Yes. I have expected you for some time."

"You have?" Telanmo asks.

"Come." Miquitlani gestures for everyone to follow her. She's an old woman, but she still manages, even if she's a little slow on her legs. As Shankahar implied, when everyone gets to her little house, there's already a pot simmering away with something spiced and delicious inside over a simple hearth. There's toys that suggest that sometimes, children come here to spend time with Miquitlani.

It's a bit crowded with how many people there are, but Miquitlani doesn't mind, although she puts Shankahar to the task of pressing out flat discs of nixtamalized corn flour for their meal. (He does this without any complaint.) Once she serves food (chillapitzalli, she calls it--tortillas wrapped around meat and ladled in an amazing dark-red chile sauce) to everyone, Miquitlani explains.

"I have seen you all coming in a vision." She's sitting in a chair (needed, due to her legs, sometimes) as she talks. "On the cusp of the rain festival, you all came out of the jungle. You would speak to Nepantla..."

And then Miquitlani's voice grows sad. "But Nepantla would fall, for a great and ravenous beast would appear in your midst. I cannot allow this to happen. Our people would be lost if it did."

Zeke settles in with his food (uneaten), and listens to the vision that the elder has had of their arrival. Her interpretation of their success in the matter makes him frown deeply, and he doesn't doubt that they might well. "Isss there a versssion of your visssion in which we sssucceed?" He looks at the elder hopefully.

Aryia follows, both surprised and not that they were expected. But that is quickly dashed at the thought of makari food being prepared for them. She's already got three when they're passed out, munching away (all that walking!)

But her chewing slows as the vision is shared. She frowns, glancing to Zeke. If there isn't, it's not like that fate can be changed.

She's glancing to his plate.

Telamon blinks as he is told they were... expected? Well, that helps skip over some uncomfortable questions or arguments. And so the half-sil follows the others into the home. Even as crowded as it is, it still feels cozy. One could easily see a dozen makari curled up here together, before the fire.

And now that Miquitlani has spoken of her vision, and her fears, Telamon focuses his mind on the problem. "What is the nature of this great and ravenous beast?" He resolutely does -not- look at Simony, or the very tiny reptile riding her shoulder. His fingers, however, begin to move in the patterns of handspeech. "Simony, move our little friend into a pocket. We may need to send you and him out for safekeeping. I don't think he's this devouring monster, but if we can break the prediction things might work out." All the while, he is sampling the food, and complimenting Miquitlani on her cooking.

Rune is no stranger to Miquitlani's cooking, and thankfully she has built up a resistance to the heat that comes with Makari spices. The rogue leans against the wall, taking up as little space as possible, holding a plate of food in one hand and unceremoniously eating with the other as one ear is cocked towards the Elder.

However, the food gets caught briefly in her throat as Miquitlani mentions that she has forseen the dragon falling to a ravenous beast. She swallows then, the food feeling a bit rough going down. "That can't be the only way this story plays out. If we knew more, then that's a fate we could move to prevent..."

GAME: Simony casts Plane Shift. Caster Level: 20 DC: 23
GAME: Riptide rolls 1d100: (57): 57

Simony's interest is piqued as the elder Sith speaks of the group's arrival being fortold in a vision. And then her jaw drops open at the doom appearing in their midst. Wait. Not the village... their midst. The adventurers. A great and ravenous beast.

"A fallen?" Her eyes go to the three Sith she's been traveling with... and then she gasps.

"Telamon, I am going to y... her voice trails off as her eyes see his fingers moving.

"I am going to your castle.", she replies, her holy symbol already glowing brightly. "Fucking Corpse Eater...", are the last words heard before she vanishes into the glowing door opened by the spell.

-TBC