The sun beat down on the open grasslands. It was the heart of summer, the rains little more than a distant memory. The winds that whipped across the Savannah carried with them grit and dust, the dry scent of the desert to the west playfully flicking the nose. The sky a stark blue, unmarred by so much as a single cloud from one horizon to the other.
This was the big empty, a land so mind-numbingly large it was difficult for some to even live here. It was her home, and the ancestral home of her people...
...who were slowly dying, scattered and broken by the interlopers from Vel Anir and, to a lesser extent, Alliria and Elbion. Their diseases ravaged the more elusive of the plains people, and their slavers and others captured them, killed them, drove them ever north and west. The lands they claimed were turned to agriculture, the burial grounds of the No'rei - and others, many others - desecrated as the so-called civilized lands pressed ever outward, seeking territory to feed the mouths of the multitudes and to fill the coffers of the wealthy to bursting.
One such No'rei crouched low in the chest high grass, staring hard against the tan landscape. She held a horn bow in her left hand, an arrow nocked but not yet drawn. Skin the color of bronze gleamed dully in the harsh light. There was a certain cast to it that made it look unhealthy, an impression only heightened by one look at a drawn face. However unwell she looked, though, her eyes were as hard as a hawks, sharp enough to draw blood at a glance. Eyes the color of mountains in the distance, a slate blue-gray that gleamed with intelligence and determination.
They were focused on a gazelle, one among a dozen that happened to be stopping at the watering hole just a short distance away. The wadi was dry, the little water source little more than a pool a dozen feet across and ringed with a band of dried mud a hundred feet thick and a narrower band a few feet across. The fetid water was, nonetheless, the only to be had for miles.
One small animal. A source of food, blood to drain for something more potable than the muddy hole beyond it. Something to help keep her going just a little longer. A little longer. All she had to do was make a shot even one of the children of the nomadic tribe could make; the distance was short, maybe thirty yards. A simple thing.
She stepped forward, and raised the bow.
A cry of pain, and as one the herd raised their heads and looked to the source, and then bounded away as fleetly and nimbly as their kind was wont to.
----
The edge of a town. Another of the towns that had sprung up from seemingly nowhere, filled with Vel Aniri scum. The No'rei moved through the streets without any real purpose, unsure of the proper course forward. She had not eaten anything in a week, and only managed to survive off of tepid water that would likely have killed these milk-skinned outsiders inside of a day. And yet, they would survive and she would likely not.
It wasn't fair. They defiled the land, they insulted the spirits, the wild, and ignored the call of their ancestors. They sought only coin, and yet those that lived the true way would perish from the world of Arethil and these whoresons would be the ones that survived, the ones that won the day.
She rubbed at her bandaged left arm, and winced. It was still tender as all seven hells to the touch. Useless, worthless, ruined by rotten chance and ill luck. She had wrapped cloth round it from just below her shoulder all the way to her wrist, and the misshapen form beneath it was obvious. The scent of rot, at least, was gone, and the bone-breaking fevers that had come with it. By all lights, she should be dead; bones picked by the vultures under an uncaring sun. Though her long white hair was dull and unkempt, though the clothes she wore ill fitting and dirty, and though the only weapon she had were a knife and a bow she couldn't possibly hope to draw....she was still alive.
Rivertown was a hive of activity, even though it was perhaps just shy of a thousand people strong. The name was an odd thing, ironic in its own way; so far into the Aberessai, there were no rivers during this time of the year. The yellow and tan band of sand that split through the township marked where the seasonal waters would run in the monsoons, but now it was dusty dry. The bridge spanning the dry river saw little to now traffic beyond wagons; more direct routes on foot from one side to the other were the preferred route. If not for wells dug into the sandy soil, this place would have died long ago.
The edge of town held several wagon teams, their goods stowed under tarps. Aeyliea could smell the ocntents even from here; spices, textiles, and rarer items. None of these interested her much; in other days, she would prefer to raid this township and set it ablaze, killing all who walked its streets. Now? Now, only survival mattered. Her strength waned, and she knew that eventually - and probably soon - she would become incapable of keeping herself alive. These Vel Aniri scum were the reason for her present situation, and so stealing from them made little difference to her. Killing them made even less, come to it.
She sat atop a barrel on the rutted street running through the city, staring at one wagon in particular. Part of several running in a group, it had the look of a military wagon, guarded lightly right now. She could see the boxes loaded in the back, and knew them for what they were - rations. She watched as the two sentries set on the wagon leaned back, indifferent to the traffic flowing along the road.
"Here now," a voice suddenly said next to her, and she turned to regard the speaker. A man, wearing coin armor with a sword at his hip and a scowl on his face, leered at her. "What's one of you savages doing here in town?" He peered a little closer at her, face hard, eyes gleeful. "Mayhap someone needs to call on a Dreadlord, come deal with you..."
He stared at her face harder. "Hey...are y-" he began. She cut him off by driving her fist into his throat, a lightning quick response that sent him to the floor, gasping and scrabbling at his neck. She did not wait about; she ran, but instead of out of town, she ran into town. Maybe no one would pass comment...but she didn't have much choice. She needed to get something to eat, and if it came down to knifing someone in town, she would. She wasn't leaving without food.
This was the big empty, a land so mind-numbingly large it was difficult for some to even live here. It was her home, and the ancestral home of her people...
...who were slowly dying, scattered and broken by the interlopers from Vel Anir and, to a lesser extent, Alliria and Elbion. Their diseases ravaged the more elusive of the plains people, and their slavers and others captured them, killed them, drove them ever north and west. The lands they claimed were turned to agriculture, the burial grounds of the No'rei - and others, many others - desecrated as the so-called civilized lands pressed ever outward, seeking territory to feed the mouths of the multitudes and to fill the coffers of the wealthy to bursting.
One such No'rei crouched low in the chest high grass, staring hard against the tan landscape. She held a horn bow in her left hand, an arrow nocked but not yet drawn. Skin the color of bronze gleamed dully in the harsh light. There was a certain cast to it that made it look unhealthy, an impression only heightened by one look at a drawn face. However unwell she looked, though, her eyes were as hard as a hawks, sharp enough to draw blood at a glance. Eyes the color of mountains in the distance, a slate blue-gray that gleamed with intelligence and determination.
They were focused on a gazelle, one among a dozen that happened to be stopping at the watering hole just a short distance away. The wadi was dry, the little water source little more than a pool a dozen feet across and ringed with a band of dried mud a hundred feet thick and a narrower band a few feet across. The fetid water was, nonetheless, the only to be had for miles.
One small animal. A source of food, blood to drain for something more potable than the muddy hole beyond it. Something to help keep her going just a little longer. A little longer. All she had to do was make a shot even one of the children of the nomadic tribe could make; the distance was short, maybe thirty yards. A simple thing.
She stepped forward, and raised the bow.
A cry of pain, and as one the herd raised their heads and looked to the source, and then bounded away as fleetly and nimbly as their kind was wont to.
----
The edge of a town. Another of the towns that had sprung up from seemingly nowhere, filled with Vel Aniri scum. The No'rei moved through the streets without any real purpose, unsure of the proper course forward. She had not eaten anything in a week, and only managed to survive off of tepid water that would likely have killed these milk-skinned outsiders inside of a day. And yet, they would survive and she would likely not.
It wasn't fair. They defiled the land, they insulted the spirits, the wild, and ignored the call of their ancestors. They sought only coin, and yet those that lived the true way would perish from the world of Arethil and these whoresons would be the ones that survived, the ones that won the day.
She rubbed at her bandaged left arm, and winced. It was still tender as all seven hells to the touch. Useless, worthless, ruined by rotten chance and ill luck. She had wrapped cloth round it from just below her shoulder all the way to her wrist, and the misshapen form beneath it was obvious. The scent of rot, at least, was gone, and the bone-breaking fevers that had come with it. By all lights, she should be dead; bones picked by the vultures under an uncaring sun. Though her long white hair was dull and unkempt, though the clothes she wore ill fitting and dirty, and though the only weapon she had were a knife and a bow she couldn't possibly hope to draw....she was still alive.
Rivertown was a hive of activity, even though it was perhaps just shy of a thousand people strong. The name was an odd thing, ironic in its own way; so far into the Aberessai, there were no rivers during this time of the year. The yellow and tan band of sand that split through the township marked where the seasonal waters would run in the monsoons, but now it was dusty dry. The bridge spanning the dry river saw little to now traffic beyond wagons; more direct routes on foot from one side to the other were the preferred route. If not for wells dug into the sandy soil, this place would have died long ago.
The edge of town held several wagon teams, their goods stowed under tarps. Aeyliea could smell the ocntents even from here; spices, textiles, and rarer items. None of these interested her much; in other days, she would prefer to raid this township and set it ablaze, killing all who walked its streets. Now? Now, only survival mattered. Her strength waned, and she knew that eventually - and probably soon - she would become incapable of keeping herself alive. These Vel Aniri scum were the reason for her present situation, and so stealing from them made little difference to her. Killing them made even less, come to it.
She sat atop a barrel on the rutted street running through the city, staring at one wagon in particular. Part of several running in a group, it had the look of a military wagon, guarded lightly right now. She could see the boxes loaded in the back, and knew them for what they were - rations. She watched as the two sentries set on the wagon leaned back, indifferent to the traffic flowing along the road.
"Here now," a voice suddenly said next to her, and she turned to regard the speaker. A man, wearing coin armor with a sword at his hip and a scowl on his face, leered at her. "What's one of you savages doing here in town?" He peered a little closer at her, face hard, eyes gleeful. "Mayhap someone needs to call on a Dreadlord, come deal with you..."
He stared at her face harder. "Hey...are y-" he began. She cut him off by driving her fist into his throat, a lightning quick response that sent him to the floor, gasping and scrabbling at his neck. She did not wait about; she ran, but instead of out of town, she ran into town. Maybe no one would pass comment...but she didn't have much choice. She needed to get something to eat, and if it came down to knifing someone in town, she would. She wasn't leaving without food.