An Exodus and Trial

[sophiaa 778]

Spoiler

 

 

 

- Grasslands of Northern Atlas -

 

A great trail of mali crossed the plains of northern Atlas. Every mile or so there would be a wagon train of three, being pulled along by a sturdy pair of oxen. On the sides of the caravan of people was an occasional guard, bearing a bronze shield and gilded spear. A clan of ‘ame trailed behind the mass of people murmuring blessings and chants to their ancestors, the Prince of Cervidae, and the The Great Eagle, banging on drums and keeping a rhythmic tone. Ahead of the march of people was their chieftess, Aelin Caerme’onn. She walked with grace as her green shrouded cloak covered her body. Ever so often a faint clink would echo from below her as her staff cracked a rock, and they trailed down the northern road onwards towards the hills of the northern half.

 

The air was uninviting and dreary. The winds battered the Caerme’onn clan, as the clear skies became foggy with grey clouds. Distant roars of thunder were resounding in the distance, as a light shower of rain bore down on the trail of people. What was once solid ground became muck and grime, as it grounded wagon wheels to a halt. A few horses lost their footing and broke their legs as they became trapped within the consuming mud. It was then a mudslide occurred, slamming into the caravan, causing mass panic. People desperately attempted to find higher ground, as they clambered over the top of each other. Unfortunately several of their oxen and other animals were lost in the mudslide, being crushed under the weight of rock and earth. Boxes and crates of various wares and rations were utterly destroyed by the torrent of chaos, shattering heraldic icons and ancestral heirlooms.

 

…

 

In the afternoon of the following day, the same chants of prayer and festivities from the prior days were replaced by cries of mourning and dead silence from others. An air of dread had come over those who carried on. Aelin was troubled, had she lead her people in a vain attempt at a new life? Should they have stayed within the forests and lush greenery of the Dominion? Self-doubt had filled her mind, and the stress of the endeavour bestowed onto her was eating her very senses. It was then her thought was interrupted when a daunting horn blew. They had made their way into the Wonkawoods, dangerous territory for the mali, and disputed territory with their greatest foe, the Uruks. A raiding party of orcs surprised the Caerme’onn’s caravan, starting a bitter fight for survival. The outer guards were quickly overrun by the savagery of the orcs, butchering their sworn enemy from the days of the Loftywoods war. The last of the caravan made ready for a desperate last stand, using their coaches and wagons to form a defensive barrier. Man, woman, and any child able took up arms, their chieftess readying herself with gladius and spear, eyeing the rampaging orcs around them. It all seemed lost. They were all doomed to die.

 

…

 

A distant horn blew from within the trees, grabbing the attention of the orcish warband from their pillaging. It was then a hail of arrows struck and pierced the remaining beasts those of Caerme’onn had not downed themselves, followed by cries and hollers of what sounded like ghosts and banshees. Aelin’s surroundings were not that very clear, as those around her were cautious of what was occurring beyond their makeshift wall. Sounds of battle echoed around them as the canvas on the outer wall of the wagons were painted in a fresh coat of blood. Then there was silence. Had it ended? Aelin thought to herself. It was then she heard a tearing sound from the canvas wall, and with instinct, she stabbed her spear at the struggling figure. There was a surprised yelp as she tore the spearhead back from the wall, a retinue of her clan made ready with a spear wall, all pointing towards where the noise came from. 

 

“What a way to treat people.” was what a voice said from the other side. The figure popped their head through the opening, and with a collective sigh of relief, he was mali’ame. His traits rather wild compared to what many were used to. He sported a beard of black with a shaved head, save for a tied back patch of hair atop his skull. Blue markings painted the sides of the ‘ame’s head, similar to the iconography of clan Torena or Ithelanen. “Come on now, we dealt with the baddies, you’re safe.” The man offered an outstretched hand to Aelin, who at first was still distrusting of him. “An Ithelanen?” She asks curiously, a brow raised. The man seemed confused at first, before smiling, “Where are my manners, I am Orist of the clan of Ithelanen. You are within the care of the Avchirran ito Gladewynn.” he’d say, going to offer his hand once more. Aelin’s display of distrust slowly vanished as she listened to Orist’s words, before going to grab his hand, “Well met, Orist.” she nodded before going to lift herself out of the barricade.

 

 …

 

The caravan had continued out of the Wonkawoods and now climbed up a mountain pass. The Caerme’onn clan had endured hardships throughout their travels, but now they approached a set of wooden palisades. They had passed several watchtowers along their trek up the pass, each had been manned by a guard adoring the armor of Gladewynn. Aelin had simply felt relief as she was lead by Orist in front of her. They had finally made it, to their new home. It was time to rebuild.

 

 

 

Click me to learn more about Caerme'onn!

 

(credit to the super duper awesome @Wolfdwg)

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

A golden-tailed hawk circles about in the sky, where it can watch the newly appointed cheiftainess with her new tribesmen away from prying eyes.

[Sky 0]

A long forgotten Mali’ame nearly convulses from the news of the new chieftainess.

[TheIchorDruid 1986]

The forgotten druid hears of the recent news, her brows furrowed in disbelief as she shook her head. Solemn features and scar ridden lips thin.

 

”Such a way for a beloved family to fall to ruin, to lose their way in morals and beliefs. I can only pray for their survival, for in such a direction – ruin is only to follow. Aspects guide you Aelin, I hope you do not end up mislead like those you are now to lead our family to follow.”

 

The Azalea druid muttered a whispered curse under her breath, vacant eyes glancing to her once beloved home of the Dominion before she once more pushed through the low lying branches of the shrubbery. 

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

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