A Token, Now Honored. Promise Fulfilled.

[KudosMetro 124]

Spoiler

A small writing of actions pursued by a persona of my own.  It’s not known to anyone—directly.  Not a missive or story… butttt… if you ARE in proximity.  Feel free to reply in character.  Overhearing, peering in, passing by… but not disturbing this.  Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy! :3

 

☾༻⸻⸻   ⇝   CLING.  CLANG.  CLING…  Clang…  Cling…  Clang…  Cling…  Clang…   ⇜    ⸻⸻༺☽

 

The subtleness of a gale’s rhyme, a song sung in a quiet brush against instruments of her loyal adherents, crafted for the Spirit of Air.  Murmurs.  Whispers.  All of thee in chatter, wistful laughter amidst the Ashen-State, and of such fading into the melody of Fiarza’s Chiming Shrine.  A breeze underneath the eternal night, wherein Luara’s moonlight settled upon that which bore her beloved Mali’ker… and those who bide with them.

 

The chime of Fiarza’s Shrine dispersing the laughs, the chatter, the brawls, and even the happiest cries of those who dwelled within this home.  Silence finding purchase amidst in the outskirts of this home, although the shifting of a lantern seemed to give the same chime as what darkness murked in the outskirts parted for this lone figure.

 

☾༻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻☾ꈊ☽⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻༺☽

The man’s form was held tall, figure strong, but himself kept silent.  A lantern grasped in hand as he walked through the darkness of this city he called home, ocean sounding in rhythmic knocks and wallows as it lapped and looped in an eternal song.  The adherent finding his ears towards it, padded feet upon the cold, moist, stone—calming his mind evermore.  This area within a fencing that lined it, opened to the docks and streamed ocean beyond it’s border…  Though, his wandering ending with a light upon the walkway, into a building with an open entrance, and soon he came to lower his lantern once more.

 

The man’s eyes dilating as they first sharpened to this room, then only giving a small adjustment to the subtlety in the change of light.  The shimmer of enshrined offerings and structures within bringing his attention… Velkumezt Shrine first, then— then to Dazkur’s.

 

Wave after wave.  Gentle breeze.  Then, silent.

 

The man taking a breath as he came to unload the weight upon his back, muscle flexing as he came to bring down this wooden shape strapped to his back.  A log kept to his own size planted in front of the shrine, then he came to seat himself—placing the lantern to his right.  The subtle light shifted now to a smaller, yet brighter one as this lantern was placed.  Overview light now binding itself with this small lantern’s own.  The man’s chic clothing reflecting some of the light, glistening under the scattered light peering from above.  A yellow shawl overtaking one part of his figure, and symmetrically adorned beneath was a loose maroon robe, keeping his fur pressed down.

 

Though, amidst the silence of the ocean and nigh darkness of the room… he pulled in front of him a bag.  A breath released from maw… as he came to grasp tools from within it—chisels and knives.  The log turned to it’s side, wide and lengthy, as it came to softly meet the floor on its side.  The man… his black stripes hiding his form to eyes, but his maw opening up as he focused to this Shrine to the Protector.

☾༻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻༺☽


 

☾༻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻༺☽

“I come here to make full of this promise I made to you.”  The chic figure took a breath. “A token, in which I engraved my prayer.  The people.  Those I hold close…”  He sighed, breath taken.  “They, my closest, remain unharmed.  My prayer.  Fulfilled.”  He smiled, looking down to the floor… then to the walkway and past it— to that broken seawall… then to what remained of that damned serpent’s corpse.

The sound of waves.  The breeze brushing through the familiar chimes that loomed above this home…  A moon.  A memory.  A breath.

 

“Dazkur, Spirit of Protection and Loyalty.”  The furred figure rose.  Hands placed against one another, palm to palm, then brought to the man’s head.  A prayer-like stance taken… before he bowed to this Shrine.  To Dazkur.  “To those I am loyal to.  I honor your name, your ideals and goals.  I make good on my promise to you, here.”  He rose, stern faced as he came to solidify his resolve.  “My promise. ‘Bless this and these of mine.  Protection to us, and protect them—”  A breath taken.  “—I shall serve you, forever more, if you do.”  The man blinked, memory flowing as the emotions he had felt, when he had made that promise, passing through him.  Though, his task still nigh completed.

 

The man seating himself upon the floor, log held down as he came… solemnly… to carve into it.  Waves washing upon the stone of the walkway outside, the sea-foam wind, and the sound of knife to wood echoing through the room.   Prayer after prayer.  The shamans, this city of them, while not present—they contributed here.  To this atmosphere.  And to… his oath.

 

“I give you my loyalty.  I engrave it in my armament here, Dazkur, to you.”  He kept carving, wood worn, torn, carved.  “I honor you in my protection of others.  To my service to those I am loyal to.”   He continued, paw pressed against the wood as claw dug into parts he’d shear off.  Wood scraps to be used for flame and fuel, but he continued nonetheless.  “My loyalty, to you, and to all those I hold dear.”

 

Scrape after scrape, chisel by chisel, cut after cut… and carve through each, and every, carve.  This large log, once stoic itself, brought in sacrifice.  Used in a man’s oath.  Stong, once, and strong still, as he carved away.  A large form now present, a shield, shaped now.  The man’s furred hand grasping sandpaper, and so he went to finish it off.  Crafts and processes of wood taken, and one last carve engraved in it.

“I honor this shield to Dazkur, Spirit of Protection— of Loyalty.”  He held the frame of a tower-shield into the air, slowly rotating it in front of the shrine, showing it off… and now placed back down.  In front of the bowl for offerings to the spirit, beginning to carve… One. Last.  Thing.

 

“I ask for your blessing, and your blessing upon all I hold close— Your protection over me and mine, Dazkur.  Domain ever present, and protection to mine allies.  I shall honor your name, deeds, and goals.  My service, heart and nature to protect, be ever protected by your domain.”  The carve was done, lantern taken and slowly engraving scorch into each word, and then he rose once more.

 

More things to add.  To finish this armament… but for now…  The Kharajyr rose, ‘Tigerasi muscle flexed as he grasped both lamp and shield.  A bow given to the shrine once more.  Then he left.  To make good on that oath.

☾༻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻༺☽
☾༻⸻⸻   ⇝   Clang…  Cling…  Clang…  Cling…  Clang…  CLING…  CLANG.  CLING.   ⇜    ⸻⸻༺☽
☾༻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻༺☽

☾༻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻༺☽

Edited May 1, 2023 by KudosMetro