Recognize Your Roots.

[Achilles 892]

 

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Pushing through the thick brush along the forest’s path, the foliage would shuffle and clatter to the ground as an elf falls out. He struggles to untangle the handmade trap around his ankles, the forest howls to life, the sound of an alien dialect shouted in a snarling tone. His hands shaking with adrenaline, his heart is pounding as he finally snaps the tangling binding free.

 

Though not too long, busting through the foliage were the elf had come from; a party of 4 Kha’, they bear skulls over their heads. They surround the helpless victim now, moving onto him with their weapons drawn. A larger grey Tigrasi orders them to halt in a snarl and so the three other lessors do as commanded. The Tigrasi swivels around in a prepared bow for a smaller brown Leparda stepping into the clearing. His mask a more intricate green, he carries himself with an almost certainty. In a foreign tongue he would trade a few words before merely flicking his hand and return to the woods; following in his command the Kha’ would regain control over the Elf.

 

The Elf frozen in terror does not move, yet to his absolute surprise the Kharajyr who stands at the forefront of the group, blade to his prey’s neck, releases him.  The aforementioned Kharajyr, Daro stumbles back, knocking into the three Kharajyr that stand with him.  Gripping tightly to his chest, he looks down only to see a thick clump of brown fur in his hand, and within an instant his chest strikes a sharp pain into him.  With eyes wide, Daro glances at the three Kharajyr as if he had never seen them before, only to be returned with confused looks.  After shambling to his feet to gain his footing, the frantic Kharajyr roars with bestial vigor, tackling his fellow brothers out of the way and starts racing through the trees of Fiandia.  

 

The distant calling of his fellow hunters behind him is soon drowned out by the deafening echoes that flood Daro’s mind, his head soon swelling in loud ambient, magical noises.  A calling deep within Daro’s being demands he be alone, that he stand before the moon and be judged.  So he did… Daro may have ran faster than he ever had previous, but he was not aware of this, his energy and stamina both forgotten as he charged upon the nearby mountain peaks.  Finally, with legs barely able to carry him any longer, Daro had fallen to his knees upon one of Fiandria’s peaks, vulnerable before his goddess.

 

Daro stared down briefly at his hands with horror as his fur scattered the rocks below him.  All at once, Daro’s flesh began to sear with pain, a pain so otherworldly.  This was beginning to be too much for the Kharajyr to handle, and just before he thought enough had transpired his lungs heaved with great force.  Daro began to violently cough up large amounts of blood  coating his own hands and the pale stone he kneeled upon.  Daro could not take it.  His body was on fire.  His insides were at war.  His mind was drowning in the clashing of the moon.  He was broken, the most vulnerable he had ever been.  Reduced to nothing but his most true form before she who had created him.

 

A voice spoke briefly in his head, imbuing him once more with clarity albeit deafeningly loud.

“You will continue my legacy.”  Daro’s eyes were fixed to the sky only to see the moon, which for many nights since Vyallu’s death had lay dark now shone with a glorious white glow.  Daro’s claws clutched the earth tight, as if he would otherwise fall.  This is when he saw it.  The bloodied flesh was no longer cause for a quaking, petrified mortal atop the mountain.  In its place, the perfect thick white fur of a Tlatlanni.  The prophet of Metztli.  

 

It was thus that the Va’Kha had been rewarded for their zealous pursuit of tradition. Alor’Daro had been gifted the greatest blessing, dubbed the chosen of Metzlti; champion of the moon. Daro stood, his white fur glistening in the silver light of the moon, seeping into his den through the folds of leather parted beneath the night sky. Pushing the heavy door to his den aside, Daro steps out atop the plateau, settling his attention upon the gathered Va’Kha below him, their sights locked upon the fire in silent prayer for the well-being of their dear leader.

 

They looked up, Daro’s magnificent transformation astonishing them. Daro’s kindred settled behind him, kneeling; Raazhen, his champion, heralding his approach; The Va’Kha knelt, their heads dipped in silent obedience. Naught was spoken, but all was known. Tla’Daro had transcended into greatness, and it was the duty of all Kharajyr to serve him with unwavering grace. The mewling of young Va’Kha- even that of Daro’s children from within his den, broke the silence of the attendants.

“Daro has been chosen! Hail, Tla’Daro! Hail, Metztli!”

 

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[Raptorious 1899]

Tor'Raazhen raises his large scimitar into the air, roaring and cheering beside Tla'Daro, "Reym Va'Khajra! Reym Metzli! Reym Tla'Daro!" he turns to Daro and kneels, bowing to him.

[Stag 3231]

Va'Vaca thrusts his spear into the sky with a loud roar before

lowering himself into a bow, head tilted down towards Daro

[Geo 1415]

Xundra looks to the moon as the event transpires, head tilted curiously.  "Ryem Va'Khajra.  Ryem Tlatlanni.  Ryem Metztli!"

[Wretched 2075]

Natayshi sits quietly cross-legged in the entangling branches of Fiandria's trees, chewing on a thick tuft of grass. She would stare out in silence to the Kha's camp, an absence washing over her features. Her chewing would halt as the sound of celebration filled her ears, the soggy grass falling from her gaping maw. The old Kharajyr considered going down to congratulate the new Tla', but these thoughts made her weary and thus, she slept instead.

[ShadowoKing 86]

Zeriko raise his blessed blade into the ground in rage "So she picks aw crazy unpopular Tla' huh, great more burning..." He carves a sun symbol into the dirt to disappear into hiding.

[magno 68]

Loud snores come from Yuulpria's den as she sleeps and, like most kha, has no clue what's going on outside the Ordium

[Merkaken 516]

Kaharal roars, the Pantera raising her staff in pride. "For Va'Kha! For Tla'Daro! For Metztli!"

[Malaise 1570]

Va'Shaar cheers, kneeling beside his eldest brother, Tla'Daro.

[Heero 4092]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.