Hats Off To The Bull

[Silence Sei]

“Three requests?” Sei Orlouge was stunned. After his defeat at the hands of the Corone Empire, the mute found himself praying to the Thaynes for safe passage to sanctuary. When Hromagh, the ‘Bull God’ answered his call before any of his brothers or sisters, Sei was suspicious. Now, here the beast of a man was, telling the Mystic that if he performed three tasks for him, that the mute’s beloved knights would be granted his protection.

“That’s all,” the heavy-set Thayne, a belly that looked as if he swallowed a cauldron. His breath smelled of raw meat, not surprising considering that Hromagh was one of the most vicious Thaynes. The shadow of the eight foot god was casted over the Protector of Radasanth as if he were nothing. “I will even be gracious enough to help you with these tasks, ‘Lord’ Orlouge.” He smiled to the warrior, his sharpened, seemingly infinite shark-like teeth exposed in a rather sinister looking smile.

That smile reminded Sei of the last time he had encountered Hromagh. The mute had been made to fight two of his Ixian Knights, as well as the powerhouse known as the ‘Slayer’ for the Beast Gods own amusement. In the end, Sei had garnered favor with Hromagh, and even gained a weapon and new ally out of the deal. However, there was always uneasiness between the Crow of Kachuck and the Butterfly of Benoist. Sei eyed the large man up and down, taking note of the splattered blood coated on his tanned skin, the bear hide he worse as if it were an expensive coat, and the sword at his side that looked as if it were fashioned from a dragon’s tooth.

Needless to say, Hromagh the Strong was not one to be trifled with.

The giant of a man made his way over to Sei’s makeshift desk. The tent that the mute had temporarily set up as his quarters seemed to barely contain the immortal being within. His eyes trailed across the sprawled out wooden blocks, each representing either a squadron within the Ixian Knights, or a squadron for the Corone Empire. The Thayne laughed, but only enough so the sound could be mistaken for a scoff. Sei knew better.

“The Z’Hren….have you heard of them Sei Orlouge?” Hromagh’s voice had turned from gravelly and menacing, to compassionate and soft. The mute raised an eyebrow, nodding to acknowledge the question. “The massacre of the Z’Hren was my greatest failure as a God. I created the Direlings in order to protect the water elves from their own weak bodies, as a favor to my sister….”

“But you gave them pride,” Sei interrupted, “and from that pride, you created Björmund. The Direling single-handedly responsible for the genocide of the Z’Hren. Thousands upon thousands fell upon his blade, until the weapon had gained an askew sentience, and could fell any elf with a single swing. We’ve all heard the tales, Lord Hromagh, but what does this have to do with me?” Sei crossed his arms, his irritation with the mind games starting to show as he questioned the warrior god as if he were on the same level.

“The Z’Hren, or rather, a large group of Z’Hren, have been found,” mirth began to fill Hromagh’s voice, an odd merriment to each syllable he spoke. “In Salvar, there have been sightings of elves that seem to bend the water to their whim. Rumors of creatures who have assembled a large camp close to the foot of the Gorum Mountains.” It was now that Sei’s eyes widened. His concern about Hromagh being insane was now a legitimate worry.

“Listen to me very carefully, Thayne.” Sei’s ‘voice’ had certain anger to it as he spoke, “there is no way in hell you are making me take my entire army through Sulgoran’s Axe! Between the blizzards and avalanches, not to mention the constant orc attacks, a group as large as the Ixian Knights would be slaughtered between terrain and enemy alike!”

Hromagh’s grin returned now, and the giant began to walk towards the entrance of Sei’s tent. “I had a feeling that’s what you might come back with, Orlouge. That’s why I decided to give you some aid.” Sei followed the god, His eyes becoming wide with astonishment as he looked outside the makeshift base.

Direlings. At least a hundred Direlings stood at full attention, looking straight ahead, through Sei and Hromagh. Anywhere from six to eight feet, with the ‘smallest’ (if you could call them that) standing front and center. Their ghostly pale skin was off set to their varying degrees of blonde and red hair, both on their heads and chins. The pristine, pearl white tusks that seemed to extend from their jawbones made Sei shudder with thoughts of how painful such a thing might feel to a normal person. Direlings were known warriors, some of the strongest that one would ever come across, and Sei Orlouge was just granted a lot of them.

“They’re yours,” Hromagh spoke, as if he were giving Sei a present, “those that survive the journey to Sulgoran’s Axe and back, that is. You don’t have to sacrifice a single Ixian Knight. Just you and whoever wishes to join you. Think of my children here as an extension of you. They will risk everything to atone for the Z’Hren massacre, even sacrifice themselves. All I ask is that you get the Z’Hren to the safety of your army.”

Sei’s heart felt as if it were going to leap out of his throat. Not only was Hromagh giving him some of Althanas’ toughest race of warriors, but also offering the chance to obtain a squadron of elves that could control the very water. A single battalion would be rather difficult to beat. It was a dream come true for a strategist such as Sei Orlouge.

“So what do you say, ‘Salvar Savior’? Will you grant the Z’Hren sanctuary?”


“I hope he knows that the ‘Salvar Savior’ is Steppenwolf’s moniker.” Sei spoke, as if he regretted the decision the second the bitter winds of Salvar started whipping against his face. Each step he took crunched on the gentle snow below, followed by dozens of crunching echoes from the hundred Direlings behind him. The mute had taken two days to pack; plenty of time for anybody wishing to volunteer to join him to do so. Sei did not have time to take a head count to how many Ixian Knights was actually joining the cause. He didn’t care.

This mission would either be a bountiful success, or a fatal wild goose chase. One thing was for certain though…

Sei Orlouge had to tip his hat off to the bull.


((Please see the Ixian Knights Mission Board if you are interested in this quest))

[Issime]

Some members of the service industry, like blacksmiths or millers or launderer, were one or many to a town because there was always work for them. Others, like midwives, were needed once in a lifetime. Issime was who didn't have guaranteed customers, but the customer always wanted quite a lot of it all at once. She had an education, the urge to pass it on, and somehow made her unsuitable for a lot of other jobs. So she wanders the countryside with a bundle of books on her back, visit villages, and teach lessons in exchange for the ordinary necessities: cabbages, eggs, gently-used clothing, new shoes, et cetera.

It was also an occasionally dangerous job whenever she did not have the good fortune to travel in a caravan of similar professionals such as sheep shearers or almanac writers. Traveling alone, she wasn't the sort who might cause second thoughts in even the greenest would-be waylayers. In another few decades, perhaps the children of today would have grown up to become the highwaymen of tomorrow and Issime might respond to attempted robbery with a stern look, a few words of disappointment, and a command to tie up those bootlaces, wipe the nose, and stop being so silly.

On the way here, Issime had been set upon by a group dozens strong. The signs of the trauma were all over her. Her dress still had strands of foreign hair hanging all over from the prolonged close contact. There were small damp spots where questing tongues had left their mark. Her hat was disheveled after having fallen off when heavy, powerful bodies bore her to the ground. She shivered as the memory of that encounter played again.

The wolves were all around her by the time that she noticed the first gray shape between the trees. They didn't have the look of a starving pack desperate for any meat but rather were cautiously curious about the two-legged, many-colored thing that walked along the ill-defined trail. She had been warned about the possibility, years ago, but the illusional feeling of youthful invincibility had entirely wiped out any recall of what she was supposed to do about it. She wanted to run but there was no direction to run. She wanted to climb but the trees here were foreign to her.

So Issime sang.

The wolves paused when her voice first rang out and even drew back a few steps when the self-harmonies joined in. Issime sang of the peace of all-consuming love and a world crystallized from that ideal. The words were as meaningless to the song as color was to a castle wall. When she ended her song a few minutes later, she set down her books and faced the oncoming wolfpack with dignity.

Twenty wolves sprinted up and pounced on Issime, knocking her over into the thin snow. They danced and yipped like they were pups again, heady with joyful vivaciousness. Loving, questing noses and tongues welcomed the teacher like she was a returning old friend. There were warm hugs and snuggles full of the smell of fur. She was trapped for quite some time.

The shivering stopped and Issime clutched tighter at her cloak; Salvar was surely a terrible cold place when you didn't have a furry, mobile blanket of wolves around you for comfort. When she met Sei Orlouge and presented her letter of introduction, she was still under the voice-stealing influence of her past performance. It was a little ridiculous, when one thinks about it: a mute schoolteacher without a weapon to her named except the pencil-knife was applying to join a group of knights on an important mission in the midst of this savage, cold land.

She still hasn't told him about not being mute. He hadn't asked.

[Silence Sei]

The journey to Salvar had been a rather quiet one. Between the Direling platoons not speaking out due to their respect for the ‘Hero of Radasanth’, and Issime’s own quiet demeanor, Sei found himself surrounded on all sides by an odd but welcome calm. He could hear the formal steps of the soldiers behind him as they walked through the snowy flats of Salvar. He had chosen to have Issime at his side, due to his being unfamiliar with any of her talents.

He raised his hand as they walked, motioning to the Direlings behind him to come forward. He knew that the group would probably unanimously pick a representative to speak on their behalf. After about a minute or so, one set of footsteps became off set from the others, a faster pace than those of his Direling brethren. Sei looked to his left (Issime was to his right) to find the Direling representative now walking beside him.

His tusks were a good foot out from his mouth, a small goatee of fire red hair protruding from his chin. He had a matching hue of red to the long short ponytail upon his head. Sei made eye contact with the creature, the warrior’s spear glistening off of the spear strapped to his back and reflecting onto the snow below. His eyes were golden, full of wonder and pride. Sei knew from the small amount of hair on his face that this Direling was still in his younger years.

“What is your name, sir?” Sei asked to the astonishment of the Direling. He looked down to the ground for a moment, then back up at his temporary leader.

“Jenner, Milord,” the Direling spoke, his words having a soothing tune to them despite the deep baritone, “Jenner the Shamed One.” Sei raised his eyebrow at the youth. It was an odd name for a race such as the Direlings to give. Then again, perhaps it was titles such as this that the Direlings gave themselves after failing to protect the Z’Hren.

“Jenner, I wish for your men to communicate as if they were back home,” Sei locked eyes with the young Direling again, “Sulgoran’s Axe will be all he more dangerous if we pass through quietly. It’ll cause any enemy archers to concentrate their fire on us one at a time. If we maintain a rather loud, boisterous conversation, on the other hand…”

“They could get distracted by our talks, and misfire…” Jenner finished for the mute. He nodded in acknowledgement of the instructions. “That is a rather brilliant idea, Milord. I can see why Thoracis once lamented about you during his great defeat.”

“You know of that?”

“Us Direlings are kept in the loop constantly,” Jenner explained, “you may not see us, but our race is everywhere amongst yours. This of it as if you’re passing a field of differently colored flowers. You won’t notice a slightly taller, blue flower in a group of purples. Nor would you notice the dandelion hidden in the rustle of sunflowers.”

“You’re ace is rather tall to be considered dandelions or blue flowers.” Sei smirked a little at the Direling, who returned the gesture with a smile of his own, showcasing his perfectly white teeth.

“I suppose that is true, Milord. I will go inform the others of your strategy.” Sei nodded as Jenner slowed his pace to rejoin the others. Very soon, the eerie silence of Salvar was filled with conversations about past victories, hilarious jokes, and other signs of the Direlings enjoying themselves. Sei smiled as the voices grew and grew, the faint outline of the Gorum Mountains. The Mystic predicted that in about an hour’s time, they would reach the second part of their journey, and start the dangerous trek through one of the most dangerous places in all of Althanas.

The mute looked over to Issime, smiling a bit. “You seem to be a rather shy one, for someone who wished to join the Ixian Knights…”

[Issime]

Well, that is the way things are. Shy people can achieve great things. Quiet people aren't always shy. They could just be quiet.

The thought had appeared in Issime's head entirely unbidden, in the usual manner of listening to conversation that enters the brain without having gone through the ears. There is a term for that kind of thing, and it usually applied to people wandering around muttering conversations to themselves. Up until this moment, it hadn't occured to Issime that she might actually be crazy.

Which are you? You haven't said a word since joining up.

I'm just quiet. Who's ever head of a successful, shy schoolteacher? I'm happy to meet you! It's always been a bit lonely, travelling by myself. I'm glad there's someone I can be with now.

It's always difficult to make your way in the world alone, with nobody to share the pain and the joys.

Well, you're here, It's easy to talk to strangers but hard to talk with strangers. I don't know if you understand what I mean. It's... um...

You've met and talked formally with others, but it's uncomfortable to tell them how you really feel, because it doesn't seem like it would be any of their business.

Yes! That's right. Of course you'd know.

Hmm? What do you mean by that?

Well, you'd be the one person I can share everything with. So, do you have a name?

At this point, it occured to half of the participants that there have been a slight misunderstanding.

... Sei Orlouge... It was challenging to think in ellipses.

Eh?

We made introductions earlier? I'm your employer?

Oh! Mr. Orlouge! Umm, but why are you thinking for me?

Oh, no, no. This is telepathy. It's how I talk with people, with you. We think at each other, do you see?

I... think I do? So... you're not me? Issime was very disappointed and crestfallen. It showed.

No, I'm afraid that we have not become one.

Oh. A more clever person might be concerned, at this point, about the privacy of her own thoughts. Issime dropped the subject entirely and returned to being a little puddle of silence amidst all the chatter.

Issime was not one for racial prejudices. They might seem ugly. They might be smelly. They might be downright malicious or sadistic. She hasn't ever hated any of them, though she did hope that some of them might be educated to be more considerate of their fellow sophonts. These Direlings were little different, though she wished that they weren't so sanguine about victories in battle. Nothing save a battle lost is so terrible as a battle won.

You seem troubled. Won't you share it with me, like you promised? Sei broke in, after a few minutes.

I didn't mean that, Mr. Orlouge! I thought you were- I was-

Relax. There was no offence. I wanted to know a little more about the quiet teacher who travels alongside the Ixian Knights. What is it that you seek?

I wanted to find people to travel with and meet the multitudes of the poor, unenlightened souls.

You could have done that with many others, most of them less dangerously. Is there anything else?

Another long pause. Issime looked away to the rising stone walls. I wanted to try to stop fighting and violence. If... if I traveled with you, then ... maybe... I'll be able to follow you into the worst of it.

[Silence Sei]

Ah, so it is strength that she seeks… Sei smiled, his pace slowing down so he could keep in step with the newest member of the Ixian Knights.

“It is an honor to have you working with us, Issime,” Sei bowed his head in a show of respect for the temporarily mute woman, “As one ‘mute’ to another, I know how lonely one’s own mind can get. I think this relationship may become mutually beneficial. My men and their children will have a better education, and perhaps I can teach you the art of telepathy.”

“You don’t have to do that, Mr. Orlouge,” Issime’s mental ‘voice’ even held signs of sheepishness.

“Please, just call me Sei. I assure you, it is no trouble at all. I am always willing to help those in need improve themselves, be it mentally, physically, or magically.” He bowed once again, his attention being drawn away from the girl with a rough tap upon his shoulder.

“Sir,” one of the somewhat mumbled voices of a direling spoke, “we estimate that will be at the base of Sulgoran’s Axe in about half an hour. If there’s any final preparations that you require before we enter the pass, I suggest you do them now.”

“Thank you,” Sei looked to Issime, nodding his departure as he went on to the various battalions of odd colored warrior elf things. Each and every soldier was given a passing nod by the mute, a fairly simple gesture that held much more power than one could imagine. It took about ten minutes for each soldier to receive this nod, and Sei quickly regained his position at Issime’s side once all was said and done.

“There’s an ambush up ahead,” Sei spoke directly to the woman, but his eyes remained focus on the large mountains coming into view, a single pathway at the base littered with snow and jagged rocks. “I can detect their mental signatures. I need you to be ready for anything. Sulgoran’s Axe is probably one of the deadliest places on Althanas. I expect casualties before we even get to the mountain pass.”

Sei’s eyes finally broke from their trance, his head turning to look at the teacher. “This is your last chance to retreat. Are you sure you’re in this for the long haul?”