Co-authored by: Ray of Meep (GM), CadetNewb, TheCountryWarrior, Wallflower
Solaris Lihana, Planet Lihana, Continent of Goedwig, Lake Obdurate's Solace
Dawn, the day after first contact with the invaders' offspring
It wasn't always named Obdurate's Solace. A large lake Southwest of Hillsong, and taking the shape of a child in fetal position, the body of water was simply named Lake Hillsong. Only after Hillsong's occupation, and when the bloodiest battles dyed the lake a rich, iron rust red during the invasion, was the lake named to Obdurate's Solace. In the waning days of the war, in an act of pure cruelty, the invaders sought to cremate the dead, both theirs and that of the Aos Si alike in one large pit to erase them from history. However, when the invaders abruptly left, the pit of bodies remained, leaving them to rot and slowly assimilated into the lake. To this day, a deep dive into the lake can net the bones of the deceased.
The invader with the short arm was already waiting. A tent large enough for half a dozen people to sit in was set up on the bank of the river, with one of those large Thunder Makers hung on the outside of the tent on a hook. Solaris Lihana was still barely rising above the treeline, basking the lake in a yellow glow. Half an arrow-flight away from the steadily lapping shores, the forest lay overgrown and abandoned. Purpleberry razor bushes grew tanged and thick without the Aos Si to groom them, and the branches of lesser trees grew tangled, their tempers ill at any passersby. But this dark, dreary, dull red foliage seemed to move and shift like it had a life of its own.
Despite the movement, the tree goats continued to bay and the fiddle-bugs continued their little tunes, the leaves and underbrush parting to reveal a maiden. A maiden clad in a simple dress of greens, tans and browns that matched the earth and trunks of the forest, the individual pleats of the skirt reflecting the tones of the most steadfast figures here. Meanwhile, the leather cincher around her waist slimmed it well, or more likely, it simply fit her perfectly. However, the green itself bore scars, the creature it had come from having been a beast of rage and fury that had always beaten its rivals. Until this maiden had come. This maiden, who's already sumptuous bust was eccentuated even more by the binding around her waist. But it was none of this that had drawn the eye. No, it was the fiery red hair that flowed like a flickering flame in the breeze. A flame that had seemed to suddenly appear in the forest and threaten to spread and consume it all. Looking at the man with eyes of emerald, this maiden smiled, unmistakably amused.
"You may approach me," Amisra's calm, sure voice graced the man's ears. Clad for comfort, she waited. The ranger had decided that if she was to die in a failed gambit, she was going to die comfy.
Gwaedcryf made no such compromise. He was as comfortabler as he'd been the day before, and the day before. This is to say, not very comfortable at all. The dead needed no comfort, the living needed to survive. Comfort was a luxury, and if this was to be the day he died he'd die as he lived. Relatively uncomfortable and full of barely bottled up pain and rage. He moved along side the ranger, tall and proud despite it all. Blade on his back, gun in it's holster, he marched. He said nothing as he looked at their Parasite contact.
His eyes, dark blue, stared like the piercing gaze of the Firehawk, upon it's prey. He was here only to protect his friend, a title few alive held to this day. If protecting her meant they all died foolishly, at least they'd die together. Take enough Parasites with you and it still looks heroic.
Sai had appeared with the two others, her own attire a bizarre blend of defensive leathers, bone, and protruding plates, paired with an ornate styling that seemed to mimick that of a grander era. The ornateness seemed to be little more than starkly defined coloring, dyes and patterns meticulously placed to give some impression of intent beyond barbaric craftmanship. Her face, still covered with that same mask that hid her lower face, scanned the surrounding area, resting on the lame human that had approached them earlier.
She was armed, of course. A shortsword on her thigh, two knives sheathed against the stub of her right arm, hidden by her poncho, and a meticulously sharp wire hidden within the poncho itself. She wasn't in a position to keep anything of larger range on her, but in a pinch she would at least manage to make a messy example of the sympathy-bait.
Dying here would solve nothing, she knew that quite well. However, she couldn't just ignore that it could potentially be a trap of some kind, hence the armaments. "I presume nothing has changed? Or has any aspect of our agreement been altered while you were away?" Sai called out, her stance cautious as her voice carried out its command for information.
"Not at all." The invader shook his head. He carefully backed into the tent, making sure the Aos Si had full view of what was inside. There seemed to be nothing more than a table and some chairs. The invader's pack laid on the outside. He quickly returned outside with a stack of something tucked under his arm, and continued to walk forward, eventually stopping two arm lengths in front of the Aos Si, then carefully laid the stack down.
They were books. Relics of the past, dwindling in number even before the invaders attempted to wipe the Aos Si off the planet. They were the ultimate catalysts of mana, with a single encyclopedia and a sturdy heartstone capable of giving rise to an entire city during the height of the Aos Si's power. Aos Si books in the past were made of the trunks of Red House trees, and with each page an tentative Aos Si could hear the faint whisper of the tree's soul, as if the tree itself was mentoring the reader. The three Aos Si standing before the invader, however, could hear no such whispers from his books. Like all things belonging to the invaders, the books he carried were numeous, a whole dozen of them, yet souless.
He set them down on the dirt, their surfaces protected by some transparent material of sorts, soft and bendy. The covers of books varied wildly in their art, ranging from cartoons, colorful parodies of presumably the invaders themselves and their flora and fauna, to more realistic depictions for their cities, people, and technology. Of course, there was also the invader language, like runes. They were highly varied on every book, but there seemed to be two "runes" large and forefront on each: "汉语".
Seeing the assortment of books laid down before them, Amisra steadily eyed the collection, one tome at a time. Kneeling down, she scooped up the most colorful, and clearly simple of the books. As her hands leafed through something clearly ment for children, the ranger remarked, "So despite knowing our language, you have not transliterated it yet?" she asked, an eyebrow raised with curiosity. "Why is that?" Though Amisra let Gwaedcryf and Sai see as well, she already had a nagging suspicion as to why.
Gwaedcryf looked over the books. Their books had been burned, destroyed, used for dececation. And again, the outsider showed that their society relished in things the Aos Si didn't have. Their lettering was inconsistent, seemingly random. Granted, Gwaed thought, that's probably just because languages are different. It still didn't make him feel better about this. What didn't help, is that Amisra seemed to catch onto something he had missed, and that was always annoying. Luckily the answer was usually Parasites are bad. He was guessing that was the case here.
"From Aos Si to Han--" The invader started something unintelligible, then corrected himself. "--to our language, we have already compeleted the transliteration, as you put it. But the documents created for such is only a one way street." He had to pause again, realizing the saying may not work for the Aos Si culture. "I mean, just because we have records that allow us to transliterate from Aos Si to our language, does not mean we can tranliterate from our language back to Aos Si. We have not created the text to accomplish such a task, since there was no need for it until, well, today."
Sai had been tutored on reading the older runes, though many of the patterns and artistic uses of them had been lost to time. However, what she knew was of their patterns, the innate tempo and rhythm that their runes had. They spoke and sung and beat on their own, and the most clever could gleam decades of information by attuning to such rhythms. There was life within such runes and books, connecting them from one world to another, the one they no longer spoke of.
"No life." She spoke as she picked up a book, awkwardly thumbing through it with her one hand. "No rhythm, no pattern. Ink on pages, nothing more." She criticized. "All that you burned, and not a thing you chose to learn. Children's books from an age ago would put these to shame." She didn't bother trying to outright decipher the incomprehensible patterns and lettering. One of her eyes may have been damaged, but she was still keen. No pattern existed. "So tell us, then, how it works? This seems the type that requires us to know the words before the runes."
Solaris Lihana, Planet Lihana, Continent of Goedwig, Lake Obdurate's Solace
Dawn, the day after first contact with the invaders' offspring
It wasn't always named Obdurate's Solace. A large lake Southwest of Hillsong, and taking the shape of a child in fetal position, the body of water was simply named Lake Hillsong. Only after Hillsong's occupation, and when the bloodiest battles dyed the lake a rich, iron rust red during the invasion, was the lake named to Obdurate's Solace. In the waning days of the war, in an act of pure cruelty, the invaders sought to cremate the dead, both theirs and that of the Aos Si alike in one large pit to erase them from history. However, when the invaders abruptly left, the pit of bodies remained, leaving them to rot and slowly assimilated into the lake. To this day, a deep dive into the lake can net the bones of the deceased.
The invader with the short arm was already waiting. A tent large enough for half a dozen people to sit in was set up on the bank of the river, with one of those large Thunder Makers hung on the outside of the tent on a hook. Solaris Lihana was still barely rising above the treeline, basking the lake in a yellow glow. Half an arrow-flight away from the steadily lapping shores, the forest lay overgrown and abandoned. Purpleberry razor bushes grew tanged and thick without the Aos Si to groom them, and the branches of lesser trees grew tangled, their tempers ill at any passersby. But this dark, dreary, dull red foliage seemed to move and shift like it had a life of its own.
Despite the movement, the tree goats continued to bay and the fiddle-bugs continued their little tunes, the leaves and underbrush parting to reveal a maiden. A maiden clad in a simple dress of greens, tans and browns that matched the earth and trunks of the forest, the individual pleats of the skirt reflecting the tones of the most steadfast figures here. Meanwhile, the leather cincher around her waist slimmed it well, or more likely, it simply fit her perfectly. However, the green itself bore scars, the creature it had come from having been a beast of rage and fury that had always beaten its rivals. Until this maiden had come. This maiden, who's already sumptuous bust was eccentuated even more by the binding around her waist. But it was none of this that had drawn the eye. No, it was the fiery red hair that flowed like a flickering flame in the breeze. A flame that had seemed to suddenly appear in the forest and threaten to spread and consume it all. Looking at the man with eyes of emerald, this maiden smiled, unmistakably amused.
"You may approach me," Amisra's calm, sure voice graced the man's ears. Clad for comfort, she waited. The ranger had decided that if she was to die in a failed gambit, she was going to die comfy.
Gwaedcryf made no such compromise. He was as comfortabler as he'd been the day before, and the day before. This is to say, not very comfortable at all. The dead needed no comfort, the living needed to survive. Comfort was a luxury, and if this was to be the day he died he'd die as he lived. Relatively uncomfortable and full of barely bottled up pain and rage. He moved along side the ranger, tall and proud despite it all. Blade on his back, gun in it's holster, he marched. He said nothing as he looked at their Parasite contact.
His eyes, dark blue, stared like the piercing gaze of the Firehawk, upon it's prey. He was here only to protect his friend, a title few alive held to this day. If protecting her meant they all died foolishly, at least they'd die together. Take enough Parasites with you and it still looks heroic.
Sai had appeared with the two others, her own attire a bizarre blend of defensive leathers, bone, and protruding plates, paired with an ornate styling that seemed to mimick that of a grander era. The ornateness seemed to be little more than starkly defined coloring, dyes and patterns meticulously placed to give some impression of intent beyond barbaric craftmanship. Her face, still covered with that same mask that hid her lower face, scanned the surrounding area, resting on the lame human that had approached them earlier.
She was armed, of course. A shortsword on her thigh, two knives sheathed against the stub of her right arm, hidden by her poncho, and a meticulously sharp wire hidden within the poncho itself. She wasn't in a position to keep anything of larger range on her, but in a pinch she would at least manage to make a messy example of the sympathy-bait.
Dying here would solve nothing, she knew that quite well. However, she couldn't just ignore that it could potentially be a trap of some kind, hence the armaments. "I presume nothing has changed? Or has any aspect of our agreement been altered while you were away?" Sai called out, her stance cautious as her voice carried out its command for information.
"Not at all." The invader shook his head. He carefully backed into the tent, making sure the Aos Si had full view of what was inside. There seemed to be nothing more than a table and some chairs. The invader's pack laid on the outside. He quickly returned outside with a stack of something tucked under his arm, and continued to walk forward, eventually stopping two arm lengths in front of the Aos Si, then carefully laid the stack down.
They were books. Relics of the past, dwindling in number even before the invaders attempted to wipe the Aos Si off the planet. They were the ultimate catalysts of mana, with a single encyclopedia and a sturdy heartstone capable of giving rise to an entire city during the height of the Aos Si's power. Aos Si books in the past were made of the trunks of Red House trees, and with each page an tentative Aos Si could hear the faint whisper of the tree's soul, as if the tree itself was mentoring the reader. The three Aos Si standing before the invader, however, could hear no such whispers from his books. Like all things belonging to the invaders, the books he carried were numeous, a whole dozen of them, yet souless.
He set them down on the dirt, their surfaces protected by some transparent material of sorts, soft and bendy. The covers of books varied wildly in their art, ranging from cartoons, colorful parodies of presumably the invaders themselves and their flora and fauna, to more realistic depictions for their cities, people, and technology. Of course, there was also the invader language, like runes. They were highly varied on every book, but there seemed to be two "runes" large and forefront on each: "汉语".
Seeing the assortment of books laid down before them, Amisra steadily eyed the collection, one tome at a time. Kneeling down, she scooped up the most colorful, and clearly simple of the books. As her hands leafed through something clearly ment for children, the ranger remarked, "So despite knowing our language, you have not transliterated it yet?" she asked, an eyebrow raised with curiosity. "Why is that?" Though Amisra let Gwaedcryf and Sai see as well, she already had a nagging suspicion as to why.
Gwaedcryf looked over the books. Their books had been burned, destroyed, used for dececation. And again, the outsider showed that their society relished in things the Aos Si didn't have. Their lettering was inconsistent, seemingly random. Granted, Gwaed thought, that's probably just because languages are different. It still didn't make him feel better about this. What didn't help, is that Amisra seemed to catch onto something he had missed, and that was always annoying. Luckily the answer was usually Parasites are bad. He was guessing that was the case here.
"From Aos Si to Han--" The invader started something unintelligible, then corrected himself. "--to our language, we have already compeleted the transliteration, as you put it. But the documents created for such is only a one way street." He had to pause again, realizing the saying may not work for the Aos Si culture. "I mean, just because we have records that allow us to transliterate from Aos Si to our language, does not mean we can tranliterate from our language back to Aos Si. We have not created the text to accomplish such a task, since there was no need for it until, well, today."
Sai had been tutored on reading the older runes, though many of the patterns and artistic uses of them had been lost to time. However, what she knew was of their patterns, the innate tempo and rhythm that their runes had. They spoke and sung and beat on their own, and the most clever could gleam decades of information by attuning to such rhythms. There was life within such runes and books, connecting them from one world to another, the one they no longer spoke of.
"No life." She spoke as she picked up a book, awkwardly thumbing through it with her one hand. "No rhythm, no pattern. Ink on pages, nothing more." She criticized. "All that you burned, and not a thing you chose to learn. Children's books from an age ago would put these to shame." She didn't bother trying to outright decipher the incomprehensible patterns and lettering. One of her eyes may have been damaged, but she was still keen. No pattern existed. "So tell us, then, how it works? This seems the type that requires us to know the words before the runes."