|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Dec 21, 2006 11:35 am
He was thirsty, but by now he was so enthused by the familiarity of the ground beneath him that he could not stop. Hot sand- it was different here, not like that of the far east and the lands he’d been in. He’d met places that masqueraded as his home, but now being once again within it he knew they had been cheap imitations and frauds. There was no land like this. Not anywhere in the world- not all the deserts or all the hot places could be like this, and be so close to the Goddess. The entire land seemed to throb. Did it recognize him? Did it know how much he’d thought of it in his years away? He supposed not. But he felt welcomed all the same.
Time had changed Siraj, although he could not tell it. His full mane which had once been able to tolerate the great battles and exposure was now long and tattered. It was still a fine mane- considering his age. It sunk down low into his chest and down almost to the center of his back. But it looked dusty and whisp like- and in a few places it was uneven. His coat had always been more rosey then red- but now it was duller, and striped with old pink scars. The skin beneath his eyes had bowed, but it could not stop the intensity of his one good red eye. That, perhaps more then anything, had not changed.
The bone in his mouth was cutting into his tongue, and bitterly, the great beast spat it out. It fell with a clunk and he shifted, flexing his muscles as he watched it roll. The skull was mostly rotten now and fly eaten. He carried it by the remainders of mane, but it had resulted in large chunks of hair falling out. Now the head of the great tyrant seemed strange and malformed. Siraj hadn’t checked, but the jaw might have fallen off. That was unfortunate- but, he had been taking the best care of it as he could.
He wasn’t about to come home without the thing he had promised, so many years ago.
“Ah, Vashzlier.” He spoke, and snorted bitterly. His voice was strong and articulated. “You’ll not be long for a resting place.” He somewhat humorlessly remarked, before bending his head back and taking the disgusting head back into his jaws.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 21, 2006 11:54 am
The scent of lion and something that smelled like death was appealing to Ripuka. In fact it was incredibly appealing. The old lioness had been interested enough in it to stir from her place on the sand and move up the gentle curve of the dune she had been resting against.
She had been at the otuskirts watching for the prince to return, for she had seen him depart and had worried greatly for him. She had high expectations of young Kidondo, especially as he listened to her teachings with such enthusiasm.
It would probably break her heart to find out what was really going on in the heir's mind.
Her pely gleamed almost orange under the sun and with a health that definately made her seem younger than she was. In fact Ripuka was growing old gracefully indeed. Her muzzle was a little greying - though hard to tell since her muzzle had been whie in the first place - and her eyes were showing signs of age. Yet she walked with pride and her fur burned as it had the day she had been born.
She topped the dune and stood upon it like a sentry, tall, proud and beautifully dangerous. Black claws unsheathed to feel the sand beneath her paws and as her one good eye scanned the area beyond she finally came to see him.
His shape was dark against the sea of gold, so dark and yet so red. Her heart pounded in her chest as she noticed that he moved with the grace and power of an elder. He definately was not one of these young, pompous royals whose fur was such a tacky and irritating red. No, his coat was noble. She also noticed he was carrying something.
She squinted against the sun's rays and could only guess it was some kind of kill - mainly because of what her nose told her.
In her heart Ripuka knew that hope was coming her way and she embraced it fully. Her jaws parted and from it exploded a roar so powerful that the sand began to slip out from beneath her paws.
And yet she would not stop, not until he had noticed her and introduced himself.
Would she be let down? Or was this approaching male really somehow who could aid her in upholding traditions that seemed to be slipping from her claws as easily as the sand was now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 6:50 am
Siraj continued to stroll, feeling the heat on his back. That had never left him in his travels- as he hoped, neither had the Goddess. She was one of the few things he kept constantly on his mind. It made the travel shorter and the slight throb between his shoulder-blades duller. His thirst still nagged at him, but what lion didn’t thirst? He shoved it aside and would handle it later.
Up until that point, all had been relatively still and silent. It was the way of the desert- it spoke in whispers, not yells. But its servants-! From somewhere to the east of him, he heard the low and unmistakable roar of a lioness. For a moment he forgot where he was and met it with some discontempt. It’d been far too long since one of his own blood had called to him- but by the second shattering chord there was no mistaking the roar of a firekin. Methodically he dropped the broken head by the tufts of mane that remained, and carefully surveyed his surroundings.
One of the things he’d learned on his travels was that he had once moved far to quickly. There was no rush- no need for things to be done in a wild hurry. He took his time observing, before his ruby eye fell upon the form of a lioness in the distance. She was hot orange in the sunlight, but her pelt was surely one of the blood. It'd been far too long! It surprised him how much life burned in him at that sight.
With a gruff shake of his mane, he half opened his mouth and gave a low calling roar. Even as it ended he let it bubble about in his chest like an engine thrum, and eagerly, he picked up the old head and started off in the direction he'd been called.
It really had been too long.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 8:52 am
His replying call echoed in her ears and with that one note she knew it was a member, returning as if he knew he had been needed.
With another low chuff she leapt from the top of the dune, landing with a great thud upon the ground beyond. Then with a shake of her head she moved onwards, her gait swifter now that she had something to strive towards. Then as she neared she swept up her head, letting her tail swish behind her.
"It's about time you showed up." Her tone was almost...teasing? Ripuka had never been a girl to act anything but her age. Yet here she seemed to have gained some youthful energy. It was amazing what a little hope could do.
"I've been waiting many days for you to arrive." Though she didn't think she knew Siraj, she meant that she had been waiting for an elder. For a traditionalist. It did not even occur to her that he might be here to cause trouble or to try and dethrone the king.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 22, 2006 9:07 am
Siraj lifted his head appreciatively as the lioness came forward. How many years had it been? And still there was a familiarity. She was not one he remembered directly- but as soon as she came closer, he became aware that she was not one of the pride’s youth. There was something settling about the first firekin he met being one of his own generation. It told him he was not the last old fool left- and the youth had not overgrown. But by the look of her, her appearance told him another thing: The elders had not grown fat in the time he was gone. Between the both of them there seemed to be more then enough vivacity for a lion much younger.
He let the engine rumble patter off as she approached, and shook his head once again. Her voice was surprisingly strong and teasing- and the welcoming alone was enough for him to respectively fold his ears. It’d been a long time since the old guard had been touched by anything. “It’s been a long time,” He spoke, his whiskers shifting forwards. “Far too long.”
She had been waiting for him? An eagerness fell across him and he flicked his tail. It was home- he could smell it on her. “I am glad then I did not take my time getting here,” He rumbled and smiled. It was a somewhat maniacal looking smile- but then, most firekins tended to have it. “I’ve come to see the king, and fulfill the promise I made to the blood. Tell me- who reigns?”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 24, 2006 11:16 am
She arched her neck and glanced at him through her one golden eye. So far so good.
His words tugged at her heart strings and for a moment she delved into her own memories, wallowing in the feeling she had had when she had returned. It seemed like this male felt the same way.
"I am glad of it. Lord Kimeti, son of Kiu reigns here now and I - though not of Royal blood - am Ripuka. The Storyteller." She smiled, "I have taken it into my paws to train up the heir under the guides of Finar-si and our traditions. He is young but he is willing to learn and I think he will prove to be even better than his father." She sighed, "but whilst we prosper in some areas, in others we are perishing. The new generatiosn are losing faith, they are too proud for their own good. Now...now our breeding lines are all but closed and soon my body will be too old to add to our numbers. It is good another elder has returned. Perhaps if you wish to, we could join forces to try and guide these cubs along the right path."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 26, 2006 8:38 am
He found himself somewhat transfixed by her single golden eye. It seems he was not the only lion of his people to suffer through what he had. The fact that she remained obviously indicated she had overcome the disability, and that alone earned his respect by far. It was gold, he noted- and coupled with the orange hue of her coat, she seemed to burn in the sun. That was the look the firekin seemed to have lost. He sniffed and perked his ears to concentrate on her words.
“Kimeti-“ He spoke slowly, and shook his head. “A king I know not of. Kiu was hardly a child when I left. Makadari was king then.” His whiskers shifted. “It has been too long, I’m afraid. Two crowns have passed- and you ready the passing of the next. I am honored to meet you, Ripuka. I am Siraj- of the old guards of Makadari,” he rumbled.
Siraj listened further, his dark mane shifting as he bowed his head in contemplation. “Your words are troubling. But even away, I have felt the change... even the fell blood has changed. They were always unworthy and tainted, and to say they had any respect or honor back in my youth would have been blasphemous. But in my travels even they have lost and gone farther down from what low they were. It pains to think such has our people drained.”
The male rose back to his feet, ignoring the slight pop in his shoulderblades as he did. "I would be very interested in that." He rumbled. "Should Kimeti welcome back an old man."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 11, 2007 10:53 am
"Siraj." She repeated his name, pondering over it a little before nodding. "A nice strong name."
Then she returned to other matters, "I knew nothing of him when I first returned either, but I must say I have been impressed with him. He is one of the last of our younger generation who appreciates tradition. He shall lead us down the correct path I am sure."
She laughed at his last words and half-lidded her good eye to stare cooly at him. "There should be no worries there, he let in an old woman, didn't he?"
It was the first time that Ripuka had felt at ease around another in the pride for a long while. The lack of tradition and the increase in stuck-up cubs had been getting to her more than she had let on. "Come, I will show you the way. Perhaps you would like to stop off at the waterhole on the way?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 13, 2007 7:39 am
The old male smiled toothily, and shook his head. “Ah, but we always have need for those with wit. I’m afraid I’m an old brute. But I am pleased to hear you think highly of this king. I respect the opinion of one of my own.” His head drooped down, and gently, plucked up the head as thought it was something of a trivial nature.
“Water would be wonderful. I’ve been too eager to get here. The desert has tried to warn me, but Finar-Si forgive me, I’ve been very eager. It’s been far far too long.” The old male shook, and fell into stride with the female. His kind! How the others had masquerade! There had been times in the far off lands that he had wondered if the firekin were truly worth all he suffered. Now he was refreshed and he knew they were. They were worth every drop of blood he’d spent in the process.
"You were a traveler then?" He perked.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jan 14, 2007 9:54 am
Ripuka nodded, her smile faltering as her thoughts turned to the days she had been a rogue. It had been a rogue who had blinded her, rogues who had hounded her. It had been her pelt and her heritage that had attracted so much attention. Attention of the bad kind.
She had fought for her life, fought so that she would never submit to those not of the blood. Her fur now covered up the scars on her body for the most part and yet her eye was a stark reminder of how much she hated the outside world.
"Yes. Though my experience of travelling was awful at best." She growled, "I despise outsiders even more now that I know what they are like. They deserve to be slaughtered like helpless cubs. My return here was the best thing I had ever done and even though I am surrounded by young lions who know nothing, I am content. Especially now that it seems others of tradition are returning."
She smiled. "Finar-si forgives all who show their faith. Do not worry."
The scent of water was brought to their noses with the change of wind, leading them around a curving dune. From here the sand seemed to become firmer and easier to walk on and as Ripuka raised her head she caught sight of the ridged rock of dens and the waterhole set close to it's front.
"Welcome home, Siraj." She purred.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 16, 2007 8:34 am
Siraj nodded his head. “Then you and I are alike. So many firekin have never realized the world outside. It is a horrible, disgusting place with no honor.” He growled in low pops, his tussled mane shaking. “I am glad it is behind me. The world outside has brought me no joy, and little peace. These unruly young- they take for granted what they do not know. Let them go into the world and see for themselves what a great people they have come from.”
They kept moving- and soon it felt as though he was retracing his steps. The land became more and more familiar. Sand was endlessly shifting- but rock! Rock remained for an eternity, and they called to him. What little shrubs remained called as well. “That she does.” He preened in adoration. She had blessed him enough to grant him safe return, and victory over his enemies. He wanted for nothing more.
The sight of the dens and waterhole was more then enough to set afire to the old man’s spirit. He moved almost in a dream to the water’s edge, and took a few grateful gulps of water after setting down the bedraggled skull. The water soothed him. “The outsiders are fat with water. I am glad to be reminded what a blessing it is.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 16, 2007 10:34 am
It seemed that against all odds Ripuka had found a kindred spirit. It heightened her spirits and her hopes to think of one such as Siraj returning to them. Were there more out there? Older firekin who wished to return? Would she get to meet them too?
She lowered her face to lap at the water, the strokes of her tongue careful and slow. Then licking her maw free of any drips she canted her head towards Siraj's 'prize'.
"If you don't mind me asking, Siraj." She began curiously. "Whose tatty skull is that?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jan 16, 2007 6:58 pm
Siraj licked the water slowly, his mind floating back to Vashzlier. “When I left the lands long ago,” The old man started slowly. “I promised I would only return once I had done something to prove myself worthy of the firekin. So I traveled...it must have been years. But in another land, I got word of a great brutal king called Vashzlier. In a desert too- but nothing like our own. It was... a cheap imitation. That alone made me wish to destroy him, but his lionesses too wanted to bring him to his end.”
“I believe it was their hope I would take over for him.” He spoke slowly, and lapped at the waters. Lions of other lands were not quite prepared for good old fashion firekin strength and size. “But after it was done- I took his head as my prize and proof, and left them. I’ll have no king but that which Finar-Si ordained.”
"The brutal rogues do fine destroying themselves on their own," He noted. "But- I was proud to assist in the name of restoring honor to myself."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 18, 2007 10:19 am
It sounds like you have created a legend and one that you should be proud of. Stories are powerful things you know. They are filled with truths and hopes and they teach the young. Your story should perhaps be retold to the cubs of this place." Ripuka was after all the storyteller, the teacher. She took delight in explaining traditions to the others of the pride.
"It would atleast teach them a lesson on the ways of the treacherous outsiders." She huffed and growled.
"I left this land with a broken soul and vowed never to return. Yet in my dreams I heard Finar-si's voice and she called me back to the sands. I could not ignore her call. So here I am now, every day spent in trying to rekindle the faith in our Goddess so that she may return here."
She left the water's edge and turned her head up to the jagged black rocks that seemed to be trying to split the sky.
"Having a traditionalist king is not enough. Finar-si's presence weakens here now Siraj. Can you feel it?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Feb 19, 2007 4:23 pm
“I do. Even before I left, I felt it.” The old lion rumbled slowly. “Everyone looks for proof now. Is it the young mind?” He chuffed. Perhaps he’d had his occasional doubts as a youngster- the power his mother had invested in her stories of Finar-si remained with him always. Even when he wavered, they worked to fill the gaps in his faith. It was beyond him to understand how this generation lacked what his did in faith.
“Finar-si is forgiving. But I do not think even she could forgive such lack of trust.” He spoke stiffly, his remaining red eye glinting once in the sunlight.
His head shook bitterly, and he lowered his face down to collect the dirty old skull. “It seems there’s more for one old man to do before he goes. Here I thought I was just making good on an old promise,” He rumbled, nodding his head to Ripuka. “But I’ll not let this land change. Perhaps something can be done about those children.” He scoffed, and with a shift of his whiskers, looked off in the direction of the black rock.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
