Beginnings
over 8 years ago
– Sun, May 08, 2016 at 06:27:29 PM
Heya all, Ian here with something very special from Nick. Something I'm sure you all will appreciate. =)
Hey everyone!
So, WE MADE IT! Thanks to all of you wonderful souls out there, we’re fully funded! And this means that the next step in the journey is going to be entering the world of Ombre itself, and what better way to start that journey than by looking at the founding of the nation in which Masquerada takes place? After all, it is a nation that, quite literally, would not be what it is without all of you. :)
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Excerpt:
The tent filled with the dim light of the flickering candle and thunder boomed outside, though no rain pelted the roof of his accommodation. It was a combination of experiences Theronin hadn’t quite grown accustomed to. Alvara had told him it was silly to put up a tent — they had, after all, taken shelter under the mountain — but a tent did more than keep rain out. It was a way to claim some space for himself, out here in an unknown land, surrounded by hundreds of people who looked to him for guidance.
Some space. That’s all he needed.
The flaps of his tent folded open and his wife walked in.
“The creatures are keeping their distance,” she said softly as she made her way beside him.
“They come no closer?”
“Not a breath, even. They are wary, still, as we are, and their stares remain upon us, but they do stay away.” She sat on the stone beside him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Your eyes are heavy, my love.”
“My fingers are dipped in blood,” Theronin whispered, his words burning his chest with guilt even as they left his lips, “and you worry about my eyes?”
Alvara sighed and she withdrew her hand. Theronin could sense her mind searching for the right words for her troubled husband. But were there words that were right for an occasion such as this?
Theronin had led hundreds — hundreds — of people from his homeland out into the empty wilderness that lay beyond the Earthen Keeper, and into the shadow of the giant mountain that lay close to the Dark Waters. In this shadow, they came across vicious beasts that tore at their flesh and resisted their blades. Hundreds had fallen — men, women, children — and no tent would keep him from hearing their anguish or feeling their loss. Now as he sat on the stone, with nothing but the distant rain to colour the soundscape, he faced an uncertainty that he thought he’d long surmounted. Was he right to stand up against the priests? Did this land truly have nothing to behold but demons and death?
“There was no blade held to their throat, that made them follow you,” Alvara said. “You say you are responsible for what has happened, but you give them no credit for choosing their own paths.”
“You ignore the fact that if it had not been for me, they would still be alive.”
“They would still breathe, yes,” she said, drawing closer to her husband, “and eat, and drink. But you know there is more to life than breath and food and water.”
“And now they won’t have any of that, either,” Theronin said, pulling away and standing. “It is no good, Alvara, there is no light to be found in this shadow!”
Alvara made no move to comfort him as he began to pace around the tent, and the silence between them filled with the muted rain.
“Not even this?” she said softly.
Theronin stopped and turned to her. “What?” He looked around the empty tent. What was she talking about?
She closed her eyes. “Can you hear it?”
“The rain?”
“The chanting,” she replied, her eyes still closed.
“Of course not. We’re fields upon fields away from the priests, there is no chanting to be heard here.”
She opened her eyes and their corners were creased by a soft smile. “Indeed.”
And then he understood— no chanting, no priests, no shackles of the misguided theocracy of their homeland. Just the rain.
“There has been no great change in history forged without the hammer of strife,” she continued. “We have so much to do, yes, but you cannot be so blind to ignore how far we have come.” She stood and faced him, taking his hands in hers. “You have brought hundreds of people together, bound by their belief in you, to a land unruled by prophets. This is a land in which we can weave our own tales, Theronin, the kind of land that you’ve dreamed of.”
The flaps to the tent flew open again and Kilian stepped in. His shoulder was bandaged, but there were otherwise few signs of the battle with the beasts. “Theronin, the creatures have retreated. The people are looking for direction.” Despite the violence of the past few hours, and the three-day march through the vast plains, the young man’s eyes sparkled with determination. Theronin turned back to Alvara and knew she saw the glimmer in Kilian’s eyes as well. You put that there, her expression seemed to say.
“If you cannot find it in yourself to push on, then find it in them,” she said, glancing over at the young man at the entrance of the tent. “They have given you their belief. You cannot put it to waste, now.”
Theronin looked down at his calloused hands, bruised and bloodied from fighting the creatures. Then he chuckled. “We’ve come this far, haven’t we?” he said, looking up at his wife. “Trekked through barren plains, fought creatures of stone and darkness.” He shrugged. “What’s building a nation?”
Alvara smiled. She’d gotten her husband back.
Theronin kissed her with haste and passion, before he marched out the tent, Kilian trailing in his wake.
“Building a nation?” Kilian asked as he hurried to keep up.
“That’s right,” Theronin said without breaking stride. “Tell the people, spread the word, that this land is now ours. We will start with this ground we have carved out from the territory of the beasts, and we will push the demons back. One day the entire region will be ours.” He crossed a couple of gashes in the ground as he made his way to Varin’s tent. Theronin needed every runner he could spare to arm themselves with the message.
“All right, sir, but what do I tell them? Does this nation have a name?”
Theronin stopped and Kilian all but crashed into the older man. Does this nation have a name? He looked around.
Stone and darkness, and in the distance, the blue evening rain. Then echoes of his voice came back to him. There is no light to be found in this shadow!
But there was. There was light, in the hearts of those that believed in him, the hearts that he would build this nation for.
He turned back to Kilian. “Yes, boy. It does have a name.”
“I’m listening, sir.”
“Let all who live in these lands remember that it is in the darkness that the light shines the brightest.”
Kilian paused. “I’m not quite sure I heard a name in there, sir.”
Theronin chuckled.
“It is Ombre, boy. This land is Ombre.”
