Ash, Shadow, Inquiry
Being a young male in any society is troublesome much is expected out of this youth; he is to hunt, to be a warrior, a peacekeeper, the provider, he is to follow the words of his elders, and he is a protector for the children. For Korut Malu of the Aradaru, being a young male was something much harder than he had ever dealt with; he was expected to do all this, yet he was berated, beaten, and cast aside at each attempt. He would learn these lessons would only make him something into much more than a peddler of jewelry he would become the being he was meant to be.
It was a hot day on the ash lands, other than normal Korut's weariness had forced him to set himself aside. His feet were in pain, blisters, cracks, and overall aches had taken it all out of him. He was a messenger this day and delivering the message to the Navamdi clan, the primary trading partner of the Aradaru needed to be informed that the Aradaru would be moving toward the northern part of Vvardenfell, for fear of being attacked by Telvanni privateers. Korut had done the job, but his feet just had had enough of the torment.
he muttered as he found his spot of shade nestled between two ash covered boulders, the massive rock formations providing all the shade he would ever want or need. The ash lands, the Red mountain was supposed to provide such comforts, all of it was supposed to be who he was, and he was supposed to be it in return. The slow-growing sneer had said otherwise for him and had made those sentiments burn away. His blood burned and boiled with rage, he gritted his teeth as he felt the very fire within him come forth through his. He felt it all, as he opened his hand and began to scorch the already ash caked boulder near him. The rock hissed in protest as Korut let the living personification of his rage go on and on until he was even wearier. He slumped back onto the ash covered ground in a myriad of emotions.
"This is not a life for me, to die here, in this forsaken barren dead land."
his voice cracked softly, not in anger, nor in sadness, but the raw emotion was bleeding through. "To die here, to forever be known as Ashworm. Is not what is laid out on this path"
slowly he let his eyes close to letting the dark blanket of sleep wash over him. His dreams were vague and silent, only small impressions, it was of the young mer himself, his feet carried the young man. Upon waking up he coughed heavily before spitting up phlegm mixed in with ash that gotten into his mouth over the course of a few hours. Eventually, he sat up coughing up more debris, grunting as he stood up he would begin his long walk back to the Aradaru settlement.
The Aradaru tribe was only about a thousand strong, though it wasn't always this way. The Aradaru used to be a much larger tribe, but over the last few decades conflict with the Telvanni house mer; the conflicts were always something of a one-sided massecre, the Aradaru had magic, and some fighters, but compared to the Telvanni they didn't have the complex spells and deadlier weapons these house mer possesed. The torches were lit ablaze, and Korut knew that although this was home, if he didn't leave it would be his grave.
Posted Mar 12, 18
· Last edited Mar 20, 18
To stay amongst his own, to be there, migrating, walking the Ashlands for his long mortal life. What kind of imprisonment would that be? Korut's gaze fell upon the Red Mountain, the silent yet ominous giant loomed there, in its own right it was very much akin to a god, as was the massive boulder that was to crush Vivec city so far off in the distance. Korut sat upon the small hill, allowing the warm humid winds to kiss upon his skin. They will hate me if I stay, they will hate me if I go.
His deep red eyes had set upon the horizon in the east as the sun slowly set.
Something had caught his eye, a figure, the frail small being stood at the base of the hill, Korut's brow perked, not knowing whether or not that the person at the bottom of the hill. The hand gesture meant only for him to follow, as the person began to move onwards, down the road toward a heavily forested area some miles off in the distance. As much as he tried to catch up to the figure it always seemed that they always were still at the same distance away from the young man. "Come back!"
he would holler on occasion. But the figure only continued onward.
They entered the forest, the massive old willows, the massive mushrooms, and other fungal flora seemed to acknowledge his presence. Korut could feel all of the energy in this place flow into him making his bones and body quake. He couldn't take it as if he had become the very flesh and soul of Nirn himself he felt his body slowly fall to the ground, his breathing was labored, and his vision blurred as he slowly saw the sky above change into stone, with many teeth, no stalactites, he knew because he saw the water drop down and slowly it began to shower him as all of them dripped in a rapid succession as if there were the cloud so high up in the sky. Slowly the water stopped and all was silent, he was in a cave, but he could not remember walking here, he could not remember being dragged here, all he knew was he was not alone.
The soft whisper of ominous words made the skin on his body crawl to life, reaching for his blade, a small hunting knife he would use to crack open oysters he would occasionally dive for. He saw the cave open up into a massive cavern, he was on the precipice of a cliff, his eyes in awe as his eyes caught the massive mushroom structures, and the lights that accompanied them. After a few long moments of awe the voice came out, and old wither noise. Daedra smile upon you son of the Aradaru, for whispered your name, for it is Malu."
the figures was a very old dunmer, she or he, Korut could not tell sat upon a soft looking mushroom cap which seemed to be formed and shaped perfectly for them to sit in. The old tattered robes they wore seemed to be of an ancient make, with narrow eyes Korut hissed silently. "Our ancestors....the Daedra. I don't believe anyone would take light upon who I am."
he strode toward the figure the blade in his hand slowly changing into a black ichor that coursed up his arm and turned into a symbol that burned brightly into his flesh. The unbearable pain made him howl in pain.
"Through pain and suffering, you will be charred down to nothing. Red is the mountain as is the blood that was spilled upon the land! Blue is the water that surrounds our homes! And sky fire is the power that strikes upon the earth! The son of the Aradaru has been called forth by our ancestors! For he is blessed!"
Korut's skin crackled and burned as the dark markings appeared on his skin. He only saw red, as he screamed for the mercy of Azura, he wished he would die, he felt like he was dying. The red turned to white and then there was nothing for a time.
Drifting in the white light, Korut could feel his flesh rend from his muscles, then his muscles from his bone, his organs were slowly pulled from him and the pain was unbearable. He wished he for the maw of the beast to clamp upon his through his jugular to let his lifeblood spurt out and to let him die in peace. The sudden feeling, he was pulled out of the endless light into the darkest pit of his fear, the air from his lungs slowly crawled out of his throat as he tried to scream. Nothing came out, and nothing was seen, the darkness was thick and endless as if a massive cephalopod had released a dark cloud of ink to evade its death.
Panting, chest heaving, sweating, Korut's eyes opened, the dim light from the torches around the camp had illuminated the night just a bit. Pawing at his chest and face a bit, he was okay he laughed softly muttering to himself. "I'm okay, I'm oka-"
his arms burned, and as his fingers touched his arms not only did the flesh upon his arms scream but the tips of his fingers felt uncomfortable. Setting his eyes upon the Daedric runes, he could see eight in total, one set was for fire for it burned a fiery red, the next set was ice for the icy hue it carried, the third set was for lightning for they were a bright white, and finally, the last set represented Oblivion, for they were inky and black. Silently he sat bewildered, angry, but most of all scared, for he knew that in his heart of hearts, Daedric blessings, were only a blessing at first glance. But for now his pillow beckoned him much like his emotion required the presence of his tears.
Posted Mar 26, 18
· Last edited Mar 26, 18
Korut's father, Konril always told his son that he was his biggest mistake; while his mother, Deshna had loved him, it was shown in silence and hidden from him. For Korut, he cared not for what either of them said, to him, they were donors, nothing more or nothing less. Of course, this was due to years of being neglected, intentional or they merely became people. Life was more comfortable this way for him, he treated the man and woman only as people, he held no real connection toward them other than survival. But as all things come to an end, Korut knew he couldn't live with them any longer.
So as Korut sat there on the stool he had made for himself from the wood and bark from one of the massive fungal trees with a piece of tough stretched leather; he took stock of his personal effects he shaking his head disdainfully as he did so. He had a handful of clothes, made by his mother predominantly; he also had a small satchel of stones that over the years grew heavy, and aside from the sleeping materials he had his spear a few knives with the blade made from obsidian. "Lovely,"
he muttered under his breath. "just lovely."
The ache in his arms had plagued him for the last four days; his skin was scabbed, and it bled every time his body forced his flesh to tighten or rush. He hadn't slept well for many days, and his tribesmen eyed him suspiciously as he had not been a person who did many tasked that would inflict such an injury, nor did his story of him falling up some jagged stones seem believable. Even when he wrapped his arms up in cloth that held healing herbs to the wounds, nothing seemed to alleviate the throbbing, burning pain.
As Korut sat on the hill, he could feel the sun slowly waning away much like his patience. Korut's hands glowed softly, with a dim light, the warmth of the illumination coursed up toward the runes burned into his arms and causing them to shine brightly. It was when Korut's mind wandered to the images of an insurmountable storm, for that was the feeling he felt within himself. A cliff racer, a young one, no bigger than Nix-Hound flew down towards Korut squawking. A pitiful cry as it made its descent. Letting out a shout of surprise and fear Korut through up his hands
In one moment the cliff racer was a mere breath away from gouging into Korut's flesh before a brilliant flash of energy blinded the Mer for a moment. All was silent aside from the sounds of the wind upon the hilltop. Upon opening his eyes there was no cliff racer, there was not a beast in sight, not until his eyes fell to the ground in front of him. There is lay charred and blackened; a smoking husk of what it used to be, the beast was alive no more. Korut's fingers tingled, and the soreness of the other night rekindled his fear and pain returned other ideas came to mind. Looking upon the charred beast, he grabbed the corpse by one of its burned and tattered wings and tossed it down the hillside watching it roll. A smile crept upon his face, for this son of the Aradaru had power and even he didn't know what he would do with such a thing.
Sitting in the darkness of the night, in the cold ashes, overlooking his homeland, or what had once been his homeland. His people would not have stayed here forever. The Ashlands were a harsh place, and harsher were those who would enslave the men and women of the Aradaru tribe. He could see the pair, a woman, and man walking amongst the wastes. Korut's heart didn't sink as it used to whenever he viewed such a coupling, after his last disappointment he wasn't surprised anymore. In fact, he was sure that it was better to be on his own, for if he were to be targeted by anyone, there were people to be used as leverage against him. For sure he had been more than eager to give his heart to the woman, but like her predecessors, they eventually showed the truth of colors. Whether it was to the fact that he was emotionally numb for the most part, the attraction was limited, or for the simple fact that they merely wanted to use him, he couldn't say.
The two figures each of them almost dancing with one another as they walked amongst the place Korut called home had not come to this place to scavenge for trinkets or search for tracks. They were a pair in love, a shadow of what Korut used to yearn for actively, maybe he still did? Watching in silence as both figures began to laugh and giggle as they continued on their way toward a distant hill. What could they possibly be talking about? What could both of them be so happy about? What was it like not to have such high anxiety around someone?
Korut questioned these things silently, as he stood up, they had not seen him, and from the way they were positioned, they would not see him as his arms had become illuminated in the magical glow of his spell. The air crackled silently before suddenly a portal opened next to each of them a Dremora on each side wielding a spear plunged into their chests. As both bodies fell and rolled down the hill, Korut went to go search for a guard of sorts, though it would take some time. He had completed his task, and as the tradition went, he had to find a guard.
Though many walked along a road of pain, sorrows, and emptiness, they fail to do one action while they are experiencing these things. They never harness the sheer rawness of such emotions; they never let it fuel them to take a step forward. They presume that these monsters that haunt them are there to bog them down and suffocate them or drown them in tears. For Korut, it had always been a fuel, not to outrun and forget these emotions, but Korut took his sprint with these things if they outmaneuvered him, the blow would only be a minor set back.
As Korut sat on the rooftop of the inn, he knew that this night was his night, there were not stars to provide the semblance of even a little light nor was the moon peaking its face to ruin such a night. Korut's heart was indeed weighed down, but his mind worked in such a way that he didn't let it slow him down, he treated it as if were a minor bruise. Another mistake to heal over time, and it was, and it had, for a while he had lost something so raw and powerful, it fogged up his objectives, his sense of the big picture obscured. One could only do so much with the blood of the earth, magma, but one could harness its fiery breath in a much more manageable form.
Korut had taken pains from many years to become the man he was, and whoever this man was, is, and will be, would not be stopped by this pain.As Korut's hand held onto the edge of the edge of the room, he slowly opened the window in which his target was sleeping, an ancient Dunmer sleeping soundly, for this man was the target on this night, and he had a familiarity that Korut could not shake. As Korut ensured that the room was secure, as in there were no magical wards or alarms, he peered over his knife; the idea that he was allowed to endure so much pain, anguish, and anger made him smile much more whenever he was allowed to perform his job.
The killing wasn't the excitement of the whole deed, nor was it leaving blood spilled on sheets or a wall. The fact that this person had either become so famous or infamous that they had gained the ire of some noble to ensure their death, it was as if Korut was meeting someone that had the potential to be something great and instead they ended up being less than great. The eyes of the man beneath him opened slowly before they stared at the cowled figure of Korut poised with a knife ready.
Korut said not a word as his blade plunged deep into the man's withered neck, his breath of surprised came out as a gurgle as he applied pressure to the open wound, that drained his life force from him. Korut only watched in silence as he considered the fruitless struggle that happened right in front of him. What is someone had seen him do this? Some had, and of course, they applauded him it was a simple job well done to them, and to those who hired the Morag Tong to do such a thing. Blood sputtered from his mouth and onto Korut's unmasked forhead and the bridge of his nose. Scoffing in annoyance at first Korut only sighed and shook his head wiping what blood he could from his face and smearing it about his leather armor.
But what of those who didn't know? The Ashlanders who believed in unity for the Dunmer under the true three, what of his kindred fellows? Or what of those who he had recently acquainted himself with? A new ally who knew enough about Korut to ensure that they would work with one another in the future, what would be her reaction? Sitting there, he could only wonder what his new ally would do if she found Korut gutting another Dunmer?
What would she think?
Korut opened the window again, and now slowly scaling down the inn, he landed next to one of the Ordinators that passed by the inn. The dark, expressionless face that masked the Dunmer's true identity turned to Korut in a startled manner. "What is the meaning of this? You are covered in blood!?" almost drawing his weapon he was stopped as the piece of parchment was handed to him from Korut.
With a quick glance of Korut and then the parchment before the audible groan could be heard from behind the mask. "Very well then, we will clean and ensure that no action is to be taken against you for your legal work." The Ordinator slammed a fist over his chest before speaking out. "For Mother Morrowind."
Korut simply regarded him before carrying himself away to wonder what the next meeting between Malwyss would provide. For the shadowy references to what she studied made him wonder if her mind could contend with his own.
Posted Jul 16, 18
· Last edited Jul 16, 18
Whatever visions some have, whatever mental grandeur they wish to have I hope it is an illusion in which they think themselves that the protagonist in whatever story they have written. I find the irony of it all that I have found those who have shown their worth, seeing what they could be. But instead, they chose the path they chose. So be it. But to say that I am infallible would not only be a lie would show that I am of weak minded sorts, and I know for a fact that I am prone to error. It is minimizing the amount of them that one should aim to do.
Korut's thoughts were always so much messier than his notes, they, reflected his real exact views, and with all opinions, they are subject to bias perception is like glass, it can temper created to be formidable, very hard to shatter. Unrelenting, pure. Though it can also be very fragile, very obscured, and while this glass is pretty and decorative, it hides what is inside or outside. Many people live in a false world; ignoring the truths and accepting the lies. Korut's problem with thoughts are the emotional ties that connect to them.
Korut sat there, only revealed by the small candle he used to illuminate the desk so he could write in his journal. Though now the smell of blood clung to his nostrils, the reminder of his latest kill. The dead eyes seemed to stare back right into his own, the face of the man burned into his mind. I bet he didn't even know what he was stumbling into.
Korut shouldn't have a care; the boy wasn't even Dunmer, even then it should not have had much weight. The boy, He has seen twenty years, he isn't a boy.
but he was, why did it bother him? Taking the small candle in his trembling hand as he walked over toward his wardrobe, grabbing a few items packing them into his travel bag neatly; dressing in different articles of clothing was different too.
The reality came to him as he finished packing his last piece of clothing; a dressy blouse for a fancy dinner, something he could flaunt. For dinner,
he noted the feeling he felt in his chest. Closing the bag, he set it aside as he choked back something, a chuckle? A sob? No, the sound just was there. His perception of the situation was at the time, simple, grab the item and get it back to the rightful owner. Korut knew the motives of the owner, the item would be used for dark means. What bothered Korut was the backstory and the motives of the youngster. Instead of asking the questions, not being as inquisitive as he usually had been, he simply went through the motions. Korut's glass was covered in dust, he didn't finish clearing away the obscurities. It wasn't him, and while he had been learning much more about himself, not all of it was positive. Korut was a creature of planning, of knowledge and he did himself a disservice by not learning the whole story.