Gaurdians of Fae: The Bellsong Chronicles

[Lan]

((ooo nice. i missed a couple of posts on the last page. have to go check.))

[anasa]

Riding upon waves of grey, the ship moved forward towards its destination. Some passengers leaned queezily on the railing, then were lead away by the others. She wondered why.

X'Xemsa tucked a lock of white hair behind her ear. She fingered, absentmindedly, the ribbon she had just removed from her hair, letting the braid unravel and fall around her shoulders and waist. She noted the strange looks she recieved from the other passengers. Shouldn't it be HER that looked at THEM strangely? After all, didn't they know it was bad luck to wear their hair up during rain?

"Then again, who can blame them?" she thought, closing her eyes and inclining her head towards the grey sky, "I bet these ignorant brown-skins have never seen someone like me before."

Allow me to introduce you to X'Xemsa, a warrioress from the Kets Plateau. Although considered short among her people, she is 6'7", considerably taller then the average Kaoran. Her skin is a somewhat deep shade of turqoise and her eyes are bright crimson. To her, these traits are normal, but to Kaoran merchants who had never been past the Treestone Isles, it looked to them as if some muscular blue demon had boarded their ship.

She sighed happily as cool water drizzled down on her face and neck. Almost all of the others ran inside. "Why?" she wondered, "Don't they know that rain is the source of all life?"

Her red eyes turned towards a small, sour-looking man beside her. The only other person to stay outside.

"Excuse me?" she said, "Have you ever heard of a man named Shiori Zinn?"
"Shiori?" The man spat, "Who in the world would name their son 'sword'?"
"It is not his real name," she replied, "His real name is Zinn, but before he left for Fae, he adopted a faeish name."
"So," the man said, "Is this egotistical KENCH the reason you're going to Fae?"
She nodded.
"I see. Well, this is an awfully expensive boat you're taking. Are you going to start babbling on about how you're hopelessly smitten and blah blah blah?"
She shook her head.
"He killed my husband."
"Ah hah!" the man said, turning to her and smiling, "Revenge! Now that's well worth the ticket price!"

[anasa]

Scroll 6: In the Land of the Brown-Skins

Rumbling.

The students all sat, cross-legged on the dirty wagon floor. A few months ago, and the pampered Tawny Bellsong would've found this completely grotesque, but after all of her time spent setting up tents, preparing questionable, cheap meat for hungry customers, and wiping the noses of performers' babies during their parents' acts, she barely took any notice. All of the students were either children of performers or performers themselves. Holding these classes was a new concept that they had all decided upon, seeing as no one could take time out of their busy schedule to educate themselves in anything other then crowd-pleasing. Tawny was still unsure of who exactly "they" were. The closest equivelant that she could find was to a travelling circus, but these performers had fathers and grandfathers who had performed in the very same troupe that they performed in today, and there was a good chance that this would continue until some plague came and cut them down, or time itself would stop. The elders refferred to this troupe as "Shion", whilst the vast majority reffered to themselves as nomads. People outside of this exclusive circle would call them something completely different with each new place that they went.

[anasa]

She was surprised by how close-knit the nomads were. They travelled in large herds, whether on horseback, wagon, or on foot. Tawny was also surprised by the horses that they kept. They were smaller with coarser hair and long, blade-like fangs. They also had two tough-skinned toes rather then hooves. Because of their small size, only those too young to walk long-distances would ride them. The others would walk while the sick or injured rode in the brightly-colored wagons; that is, with today being the exception.

[anasa]

The students ranged in age from the three year old daughter of one of the young, pretty dancers to the 32-year-old illusionist who could manifest his customer's deepest desire on the back of a coin, but couldn't read or write. (He would then say that he was taking their desire as payment.)

The lessons were to be taught by the elders; that is, those too old to perform. There were 4 sitting cross-legged in front of the pupils, three men and one woman-Norn. Tawny noted that the three men appeared to be in their mid-forties, which seemed to be as old as people usually became in this world. (Or, at least, on this island.)

[anasa]

The wagon bounced once again and Norn, without a word, handed the three year old that had previously been sitting, picking its nose in her lap to a teenage girl in the front row, pulled herself in front with several creaks of the floorboard, rested her leathery hands on her knees, and began.

[Lan]

((lol i want to read all of this but im so impatient.))

[Bastian Farix]

((I read the whole thing, and it's pretty darn good. ;D))

[arrucard]

(( yes and you know she is an excellent artist as well! I know her personally she's mine and arissa's friend))

[anasa]

zomg! -///_///- Stop compl-.....I don't.....I'm not......*explodes from joy*

[arrucard]

yes and it has been read 1,505 times

[anasa]

*does the "read 1,505 times" dance*

**ahem***

Anywayz....um....yeah, the story.

"Our world," she said, "was created by the three Gaurdian Fairies: Theosay, Theofay, and Theon. Theofay, the artisan, used her magic to sculpt our world out of rock, while Theosay, the virtuous, filled the seas and waterways with her life-giving liquid magic. Theon was the oldest, and very protective of her younger sisters, so she stretched the sky over her sisters' creations and breathed in the air that we live on to this day. When the three sisters' powers collided, a beautiful explosion of life graced their creation, and the world as we know it came to be."

The nomads all nodded or had their eyes glazed over, obviously having heard this story thousands of times. Tawny thought it sounded completely ridiculous, but tried to look appreciative, nonetheless.

If there was anything that Tawny knew how to do, it was how to pretend. Often, she would have friends who absolutely refused to be surrounded by anyone different from themselves. In order to be close to these rich princesses, as was the only appropriate company for someone from HER family, she would have to walk, talk, joke, eat, and look nearly identical to them.

Now, nomadic girls her age were drastically different. Most of them already had serious careers as well as their own husbands and families. Still, she often found herself having to go back into the world of pretend. She fit in with these "real" women far less then she would have cared to hope for.

[anasa]

Wind swept through the plains like a child at play. It ruffled hair and skirts and manes and tails, then ran off mischievously as if it were escaping its punishment.

Tawny attempted to whistle a tune she had heard around camp. Unfortunately, her transformation into a Faera hadn’t fixed her lack of a musical ear, and after several strange looks and suppressed (or unsuppressed) laughter, she gave up and craned her neck, turning her gaze upon the endless blue sky. Without any trees or hills cutting into the horizon, it was as if they were all inside of a perfect blue egg, and no matter how far they trod, they would never live to touch the shell.

“Oof!”

The earth flew up to meet her face. Furiously, she whipped around and saw Loki coldly advert his eyes and continue walking.

“Hey!” she snarled, scrambling to her feet, “How dare you push me down like that?! What did I ever do to you??”

Instead of replying, he merely kept on walking.

A common reaction with these folks, Tawny thought bitterly, looking down at her aching feet. She scowled as she continued painfully on.

Didn’t these people ever take a break?! It wasn’t like anyone was expecting them! And what was up with Loki? What the crap was his problem? And why wouldn’t Norn tell her about the tree tattoo? And why didn’t she answer Tawny’s questions with anything but a slow, sad shake of the head? How she hated that headshake! Tawny would’ve asked more questions in the Forest of Fae had she known that that was the only time Norn would tell her anything! Didn’t she have a right to know about her own body?! Questions! Questions! Questions! Why! Why! Why?!

A child passing by on horseback gasped in horror upon seeing Tawny’s gloomy face, which, in response to the child, grew scarier still.

Stupid child! Why wouldn’t anyone let her ride on horseback? The Shion were used to walking this much, but she had been driven everywhere in her world! She was the weak one here!

“Quiet, child,” came Norn’s spine-chilling voice, “I can hear nothing when your thoughts are so fiery.”

She jolted and turned slowly, her eyes wide and mouth open.

“Y-y-you can read my mind?”

“You can say that,” she shrugged, “I’ll explain later…”

(“I doubt it,” muttered Tawny.)

“…but right now, I must lock in on a signal I sensed earlier this morning. It seems to have taken a liking to us, whatever it is.”

Tawny’s vision blurred.

“Norn, I…”

“If you can not calm your thoughts, then move away from me.”
Tears starting to drip, Tawny nodded and hurried off near a group of dancers, who were soon cooing over her.

“Poor little Ta’nii. What’s wrong, poor little Ta’nii?”

(All of the Shion seemed unable to pronounce her name correctly. Instead, they emphasized “nii” and said “ta” so quickly that it was barely audible.)

After a while, Norn approached one of the nearby elders and whispered something into his ear. His face paled.

“What is it?” Tawny asked, hurrying to her side.

Norn smiled and uttered one word:

“Sharden.”


“What is this?” the blue-skinned woman asked him.
He jumped at the sound of her voice.
“Wh-why this is the Imperial City,” he said, grinning sheepishly, “You are walking through the streets of Kaore’s crowned jewel.”
“Yeah, well, it stinks,” she said, scrutinizing the crowded urban scene, “And so incredibly loud. Only ill comes of too many humans in one area.”

[anasa]

“Are you certain you escorted the man I’m looking for?” she asked suddenly.

“Why, yes!” the short man said, somewhat frustrated, “I’ve told you many times before! Guides never keep their customers’ destinations a secret. You do understand what that means, right?”

X’xemsa nodded. It meant that he wouldn’t keep her quest a secret, either.

“But, I don’t get it,” the Guide said, “If he has someone out to kill him, he should’ve known better then to hire a Guide. Oh, well. I suppose he is a foreigner.”

“And you’re sure that there was a woman with him?”

“Ah, yes,” he said, sighing happily at the memory, “She was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen-almost inhuman!”

X’xemsa kept quiet as the man was lost in his blissful remembrance. If a woman was with Zinn, then she might have to kill her, too. Wanting to bring the Guide’s attention back to her, she complimented him on his fluent Atropian. He grinned.

“All Guides are required to be fluent in at least one language other then Gensen,” he chuckled, “We get paid 20 knudd whether we get customers or not, so I chose the language that hardly anybody in Fae speaks.”

“My,” X’xemsa replied, “What a comfort it is to have you accompanying me.” He laughed. “In any case, tell me more about your kingdom of Kaore.”

He nodded, picked up her luggage, which was very light, and began to lead her to a less noisy side-street before he began talking.

“We are currently in Kaore, the glorious empire located in the southern region of Fae.” (X’xemsa found the idea of this tiny piece of island being a “glorious empire” ridiculous.) “The country is breath-taking in its beauty, but you must be on the look out for thieves. There’s a greater abundance of them here then anywhere else, for some reason.”

“And what about the Solnama Plains, this land we’re entering?” X’xemsa asked sarcastically, “Is that ‘breath-taking’, too?”

“I should think not!” the Guide spat, offended by her tone, “The land is completely flat and devoid of any trees or brush! The relentless sun shines all day and everything is so hot and dry! The people are intolerable, as well. They feed only on vegetables as if they were some rodent, and if one sees you chopping down a tree, they act as if they had just seen you killing a baby! Oh!”

The Guide stopped when he saw a family of three walking down the street. He straightened his back and remained silent until they passed by.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“Those were Solnamanians,” he said in a biting whisper, “I thought they were supposed to be back in their own country, the rotten fairy-worshippers.”

“How did you know they were Solnamanian?” she asked.

“Didn’t you see how light their skin was? It was practically Hinoan!”

“But, they could’ve just been light-skinned Kaorans.” He shook his head.

“Kaorans? Look like that? Never!”

“I don’t get it,” X’xemsa muttered, turning back to watch the retreating family, “It’s only a different shade of brown.”

[anasa]

The two continued taking twisting alleyways and secret passages, sometimes sneaking through large wooden houses without the inhabitants’ knowledge. X’xemsa had no idea why they did this, but decided not to ask. It seemed that every question she asked this person received only an answer that she could not accept.

Eventually, they emerged on the city’s outskirts, where the cramped buildings dwindled. The Kaoran landscape was, indeed, breath-taking, with its sapphire mountain peaks, its tree-covered hills which rolled like waves in an ocean of green, and its towering flowers of blue and pink and red who competed with their neighboring arbors for the afternoon sun. A gust of wind swept the green land into motion as a chorus of thousands of busy birds rang.

“So, what do you think?” the guide said proudly, as if he were responsible for it all.

“It’s alright,” X’xemsa replied blandly. Her attention was shifted by a nearby woman’s scream. She turned and saw a woman on her knees, begging and pleading with a sword-wielding man in crude armor carrying away a crying infant.

“Is that a bandit?” she growled lowly, placing a blue hand on her onyx staff.

“Huh?” said the guide, surprised that she would be angry at such a thing, “No. That’s an imperial guard.”