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.