To Become Mahae

[ImCookiie 1909]

Spoiler

 

 

Henlo. This is an IRP post, regarding Laedrad's most recent trial. Feedback is welcome.

 

 

 

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Laedrad Tresery is not a creature of extravagant intelligence. Life was simple, to him. He didn’t find comfort in the fighting-pits, nor the high seats of council — rather, he’d prefer to live a life of the present without worry of such. The boy pranced as if no danger could touch him, with an idle smile that always played at his features. Albeit, he had much to learn and the Lioness saw to it. He had been tasked with little instructions, or belongings, blindfolded and abandoned in an unknown location to him. He had two options — to return, or die trying.

 

Laedrad departed into the vast, barren desert that awaited him, in a constant and frantic survey of the unfamiliar surroundings. He continued for hours, both feet sinking into the sand alongside each hesitant stride. After some time he’d turn around, expecting to find a pair of golden eyes observing him from an inconspicuous shrub or mound of stones. He did not. Laedrad inhaled and nodded once, retreating to his original path. He had bound himself to this quest and was determined to return home — sooner, rather than later. A bright, bellowing heat accompanied his travels — granting sporadic gusts of warm wind that beat against his dim features, grains of sand thrusted against his skin in equal fashion. As time elapsed, Laedrad began muttering maddened ramblings to himself. “I am Tresery.” He’d repeat for a while, a frail frame bombarded with the relentless force of the sun-light. Against the bitter conditions he faced, a certain emotion continued to grow within the cub, urging him forth, despite the obvious limitations of his mortal coil. After all, Laedrad had always been too prideful for his own good.

 

At first, it seemed that Laedrad had been blessed with the strength of Mahae, himself — that is, until his knees began to tremble with each step. A mourning Mali’ame found himself lost and unable to continue, fearful of his own quick demise. As light faded and night-fall threatened to approach, an array of vibrant colours painted the sky — each stroke revealing a soft, translucent pattern in a multitude of hues. Laedrad placed one foot in front of him, in a valiant attempt to resume. A small cardinal followed his narcoleptic path, chaotic mannerisms in hopeless aid to the cub. As it became more aggravated, similar emotions corrupted Laedrad. “Don’t mock me.” Laedrad commented aloud, an evident scowl manifesting upon his countenance. Alas, the young Tresery eventually succumbed to the gruesome pain that coursed his entire being. He dropped his knees to the ground, thin fingers crawling amidst the sharp grains of sand. Silence bestowed itself in the horrid scene — contrasted only by his fading lamentations, desperate cries erupting from the young elf.

 

At the sight of a rabbit— or what could have been— the elf cried out to the sky, and tumbled towards the gentle movements in the sand. He grasped and grappled whatever he found beneath him with inelegance in his motions, thrusting the end of his spear into the cloud of dust that formed around him. He had done it. Laedrad waved his arms in front of him, clearing the air in desperate procure of his next meal. Albeit once the scene had settled, he found a fallen branch from the nearby acacia dormant upon the sand. He stared at the wooden plank, like it had taunted him. ”ARGH—” Laedrad continued to scream belligerently, towards the branch if naught else. He grumbled beneath a hushed breath, eagerly grabbing the wooden piece from the sand — in a sudden, forceful attempt to throw it far from his sight. As a result, when he thrusted his arm forth, the branch slammed forcefully against the back of his head. ”ARGH— OUCH.” Laedrad yelped, falling onto the scalding sand anew. He trembled greatly, gasping for air once he had returned to his feet. Despite his heroic attempts, Laedrad could not contain the tears that crawled down onto his features. He cried out, clutching his stomach harshly, against the reigning hunger that echoed low rumblings. He’d find refuge beneath the acacia tree, sitting against its roots — utterly defeated by the prospect of another day in the lonely desert. 

 

And overhead, the acacia branches wept with him. Laedrad heard them groan and sigh, mumbling their heartache in time with his own quiet sobbing. “I don’t know if I can continue on...” He did not understand their words, but their mournful tone was evident. He meditated, ivory teeth chattering against each other. Laedrad found comfort in the fluid motions of his thin fingers, replicating the maneuver of a spear from his practiced hunts and violent teachings. As the sun dropped over the horizon, Laedrad chose to find refuge beneath the acacia tree — obscuring his entire being against its roots, covered by the robes that hung loosely from his body. And the first night passed. 

 

At the first sight of sun-light, Laedrad arose from the ground clumsily — for a moment, unaware of his arid surroundings. He had been startled by the audible movement of something or someone, stumbling to his feet in a still-drowsy state. “H- Hello?” He inhaled sharply, equaled by the heavy exhales that exuded from his agape mouth. The Tresery granted an intense survey of the calm scenery, his eyes eventually travelling onto the spear that lay dormant amidst the sand. He forfeited practiced, militant stance to kneel beside the weapon, circling the grip of the spear with ease. Laedrad grabbed the ironwood weapon at the middle of its oaken-baton, and braced himself. He’d be thrown forth with a sudden swing of his weapon around him, a hefty thud as the pointed edge crashed against the ground beneath him. The Tresery cub sighed heavily, index-finger and thumb pinching softly at the bridge of his nose. “I’m going crazy.” He admitted to himself, golden eyes then settling upon a small, mischievous rabbit that watched the entire scene from afar. “ - What?”

 

Laedrad thought about it — catching the darned rabbit with his own two hands, and his stomach commanded him to eat it raw, if necessary. At first, he contemplated throwing himself at the animal but he soon realised that he could not wage war on the prey, in its natural habitat. He’d begin a ritual around the unsuspecting rabbit, instead, stalking its every movement and erratic manner — light footsteps floating above the sand, in his dedicated path towards the small hare. Alas, the rabbit noticed the famished person that approached it, a sudden turn of his head and ears towards Laedrad. At that split second, the Tresery cub raised the spear above his head and thrusted the weapon forth with a mighty roar. “AAARGH!” A cloud of dust, debris and rabbit innards ascended into the air with a gruesome crack. At that, Laedrad had found himself renewed confidence. He returned to the ancient acacia tree, a deceased rabbit hanging over his shoulder.  

 

Laedrad knew to make a campfire, even if his animalistic desires ordered him to tear into the defeated rabbit at once. Albeit, it could not be at the archaic acacia tree — for until now, it had been his only companion. Instead the cub chose to beg the tree for a few branches, enough lumber for a singular night. He’d retrieve them, alongside heaps of leaves, flowers and pods that remained attached to the oaken piece. “Farewell, for now.” Laedrad called out to the acacia that reigned above him, departing once again into the wilderness.

 

After some time, the adrenaline had faded and his stomach growled anew. He groaned beneath his breath, casting the rotting rabbit another resentful regard. “A little longer…” He affirmed with an indignant sniff, and his eyes flit upwards, as if addressing some higher force in mute thought. Despite the gathering of flies and mosquitoes that circled his recent catch, Laedrad trudged onwards against another day of blistering heat. And for him, this had been a wise decision. Far in the distance, a dried river bed crossed his path.

 

At the barren river-bed, Laedrad created a small but violent campfire with the dried grass and roots he had eagerly collected near its bank. The Tresery acolyte followed the instructions that echoed in his mind, replicating the automatic actions of his elders. He’d grab the thinnest branch, snap it in half and puncture the rabbit’s body, near the neck — gritting his teeth during the vulgar task. At that, he’d begin to skin the animal with the sharp edge and eventually hang it over the crackling flames. While he waited for the rabbit to roast completely, Laedrad munched on the pods birthed from the acacia tree. Amidst many dried out seeds, Laedrad found few succulent leaves — their natural water dripping vigorously onto his parched lips. 

 

As time elapsed and hours turned into days, Laedrad had become accustomed to the climate of his newfound habitat. He had developed a methodical ritual, begun at the first light of each new day. Laedrad returned to the acacia tree often, retrieving some of its leaves or pods — eagerly chomping down onto a few, whilst holding onto the rest for the duration of the day. After that, the Tresery cub assumed his namesake and forfeited refuge for hours, until night-fall at times, to hunt for rabbits, deceased birds or whatever other meal he could muster. He’d return to the acacia tree before the sun dropped over the horizon, promptly skinning his daily catches and roasting them over the enthusiastic campfire. For a while, he had bound himself to this routine — albeit, the impatient elf grew fatigued of the robotic approach to this task.

 

 

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Laedrad is a creature prone to mishap and troublesome ventures, oft-proclaimed that he inserts himself into the problems forced to be resolved. If he was ever faced with a challenge — or the simple prospect of leaving the comfort of his bed on a cold morning — he’d eventually find the bright-side, despite the evident grumblings that exuded from him. Laedrad had been told the tales of the Tresery lineage before him, who thrived amidst the horrid environment of the savannah but still, could not fathom the idea of survival in this situation. At that, the young acolyte decided to depart from the cavern in which he had spent weeks — far too long, for such a determined mali’ame.

 

A few months had passed in the wilderness, equally belittling climate greeting the elf at each crack of dawn. The Tresery is often bereft of seriousness, in such an idle state that can be mistaken for a vacuous trait. Nonetheless, he found it easy to converse and gather with others. He bore youthful, bright features that replicated his childish appearance. Until recently, of course — Laedrad had become frail and his dim countenance bore a heavy frown, most of the time. He carried nostalgic demeanour as often as he carried his spear, and longed for the lover that awaited his return.

 

A silent, overbearing and colossal presence accompanied his travel. After some time, Laedrad hid beneath the cool shade of a bestial skeleton, nestled into the coarse sand over the centuries it had been there. He hadn’t felt the relentless damage of the sun for months — but just as the climate changed, so did the acolyte. Laedrad could barely open his eyes, no more than a forceful squint towards the horizon, which wavered against the bitter heat. And then, he saw it. A forest, populated by dozens of dense trees. He could not believe it, urgently collecting his belongings before creating a hasty path towards it.

 

As the acolyte approached the crowded gathering of vegetation, the prospect of facilitated survival granted him a final moment of encouragement. He dragged his spear behind him, feet dawdling amidst the sharp sands — knees weak and arms heavy. Unbeknownst to young Laedrad, this was no ordinary forest. In fact, the woodland seemed to breathe. The Tresery cub came to a sudden halt, granting the dim scenery another squinted survey. He’d discern the individual shape of a tree, which seemed to expand outwards. At this, his head swayed in his negligent response, unable to conjure a rational thought to what he had seen.

 

A horrid screech abruptly erupted from the blurred imagery, and with it a dozen more deafening screams. Laedrad yelped, readily hoisting his spear outwards — the frail elf trembling at his knees, so much that he could barely find a comfortable stand. After the startling audio, the young Tresery found himself near-defenseless against a flock of famished vultures. At that, the creatures relinquished their idle post and their thin, gruesome legs bent at the knees — canopies of feather extended outwards in their rapid ascent to the sky. Laedrad exhaled heavily, content that his demise had been postponed to another day. At first, Laedrad seemed more concerned with his own failure. Until, another dreadful siren rang out behind him — an enormous shadow cast onto the frail acolyte, in a violent approach. He had prepared for this, and so turned to greet the attacker. Laedrad braced himself for the cruel impact, the ironwood spear held out towards the creature. Laedrad knelt to the ground, unable to control his trembling knees. “AARGH!” He cried out, the awful audio only then interrupted by a forceful collision against his body — both him and the vengeful creature sent rolling, at that.

 

After some time and in the midst of their battle, Laedrad bound himself to a singular, but essential action — shielding his face from the vicious attacks of the vulture. He’d squirm beneath the harsh grasp of the creature, which continued to claw at his arms and face. Amidst the chaos that ensued, Laedrad listened to the voices of his elders, in his mind — constant reminders of his failures prior, and the violent teachings he had endured. The Tresery cub found himself muttering the names of his family members, his friends and foes and most predominantly, the name of his lover. “Tanila. Tanila.” Against the bitter conditions Laedrad had faced until now, it seemed bittersweet that this was how his short life came to a gruesome conclusion.

 

As the belligerent ambush endured on, a fountain of crimson red exuded from the various wounds that covered his arms — in the brilliance of the sun-light, blood scattered onto his disheveled features and congealed there. Laedrad continued to scream incoherently towards the skies, until he did not. An umbrage nestled inside him, a great darkness settling inside his heart and soul — golden eyes ridden with the spirit of the great lion, himself. The Tresery cub mustered what little adrenaline still remained, erupting in an animalistic roar. “AAARRGHH!” 

 

At that, the stubborn acolyte thrusted both arms towards the creature and grappled at its feathers uncontrollably — prepared to enact destructive retaliation. Laedrad tugged at the rough awning of feathers in a maddened pursuit of revenge and with it, odd eruptions of the creature’s own blood covered him. He bound himself to the struggle, despite the crimson stains that marked his entire body. And then, he heard it — another blunt instruction commanded his defense and life. Laedrad released a bellowing scream, grabbing the neck of the injured vulture with uncontrollable rage. He’d grimace at the prospect of his planned actions — a sudden and educated thrust of his hands releasing a gruesome, explosive audio into the chaotic scene. And then, the creature that had threatened his life dropped to the sand beside him, its claws trembling for moments longer.

 

It had only been minutes since the maddened eccounter, albeit a lifetime had passed for the young acolyte. Laedrad remained immobile for some time, amidst a collection of congealed blood, broken feathers and sand. He chose to stay there, unable to bring himself to escape — not that he feared another battle against the winged-patrons but rather, the prospect of telling his friends what had happened. Until then, Laedrad had taken his robotic approach for granted. Albeit, it wasn’t a warning unheeded or lack thereof. In fact, his elders had cautioned of his extravagant confidence and the inability to perceive his own humane boundaries — until now, that is. Despite the indisputable damage to him and the pandemonium that had ensued, Laedrad had learnt a valuable lesson. 

 

Night-fall threatened to approach quickly, an evening sky painted in warm tones of orange and golden-hues. A pale crescent-moon shone over the horizon, creating delicate shadows that obscured Laedrad’s scarred features. He had been silent for hours, in constant mute thought of what had occurred earlier. The Tresery had embarked on a narcoleptic path across the desolate savannah, anew — aided by the spear at his side, thin fingers in desperate grasp of the wooden baton. At his shoulder hung the deceased vulture, a macabre trophy of his victory accompanying the elf.

 

It had been months, already. As time transpired, Laedrad reminisced about the person that had been abandoned in the horrid desert — although he knew it had been him, it was a version that he did not recognise, now. Laedrad did not heed to the insecurities of his past, he needn’t further instruction to become the warrior his ancestors created. Laedrad Tresery roamed the lands of his lineage from sun-rise to the night-fall, etching their paths alongside his own. 

 

Laedrad is not easy to sway, with little guile in his mind — an untalented tongue when it came to feigning the truth or emotion. He trotted with confidence strides now, greeting the realm with a duality that equaled his journey as a cub, and acolyte. In the end, Laedrad could not forfeit his gentle nature. He is not violent, albeit not calm or composed either. He knew to relish in his mischievous character, incapable of letting the tragedies of the realm define his essence. Albeit, blissful ignorance was no longer his choice. Laedrad had changed, even if he did not know.

 

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On the far south-western apogee of Almaris, overlooking a vast and peaceful savannah of untrampled earth and dissolution, a bright sun-rise cracked at the dawn of a chilly morning. As is habitual, Laedrad greeted the incoming winter solstice with oodles of relief. A bright, bellowing campfire crackled amidst an otherwise silent scene. A skeletal figure awakened from restless slumber, disheveled countenance bombarded and engulfed in the relentless force of his own thoughts. “Home.” Laedrad affirmed, in a hurried state to collect whatever belongings he had collected until then. 

 

At that, the acolyte adorned a dulled expression — granting his temporary abode an immobile, final survey of the rotten setting. Who would have known how bittersweet it’d be? Alas, occupied by the delusions of his past, twisted and weaved into abysmal monsters. Laedrad shifted a singular finger to rub at his exhausted visage, dark circles vaguely visible in his seclusion. He exited the dim cavern, golden gaze squinted at the sun-light that beamed onto him. 

 

Laedrad claimed his descent from the great Tresery lineage and its apostles, now. “Ellaurir ay'ame, kae Mahae nae sanere.” He’d mutter in a cantillate manner, embarking on a dedicated journey towards the citadel of Amaethea — a brief stop at the ancient acacia tree that had shieldied him from the harsh heat of the sun, at his most vulnerable. He’d make a silent promise to the tree, that he’d return in the future, once he had assumed his truest form.

 

And then, the Tresery acolyte embarked on the treacherous journey that he had longed for, during the last few months of his life. He bound himself north, until the gates of Amaethea came into view. There was no consolation, nor solace that could comfort the young elf — he roamed the empty roads of the citadel for a while, before venturing to his home. He recalled every detail of the realm as he remembered, albeit something differed — though he could not place it.

 

Months prior, Laedrad had departed from the great citadel of Amaethea.

 

He had returned, alive.

 

 

Spoiler

Whoa! You made it to the end.

 

 

[WestCarolina 1779]

Miven gives Laedrad a solid thumbs up (something she just learned) for the formatting of this post.

Well written Cookie!! Really proud of ya. I've enjoyed watching your character grow and the effort you've been putting into these tasks. Glad to have you as one of ours!