Dakirennis

Y'all need it.

Aztran had begun to make his journey downward across the sky as the pair trekked their way up the snowy mountain. Perhaps not clear to most people, they followed the small trail that their kin had carefully trodden down to pass the rocky range. The wind blew in a soft lul against the two dark figures. One tall with a black cloak wrapped around him, one hand keeping it secure and the other clutching a staff tightly, both bloodied. The other, while slower, still snaked and weaved around the rocky outcroppings with a predatory movement that would never leave it’s soul, despite his age. The wolf stood nearly as tall as a horse, licking at what gore remained around it’s snout. Dak’ir stopped to lean against a boulder, looking back to watch and wait for his ever faithful companion. The ‘Ker wolf, Eclipse, was an alpha from a bygone age one who perhaps deserved his rest far sooner than this. But his soul was strong. Dak’ir knew this, staring into souls was something he did quite literally. Though these were usually ones that had already passed on they wisened him and helped to give him his sense of judgement. The old shaman knew for ages this wolf was special, his fire burned brightly at all times. From the ferocity in the way he hunted to his soft growls as one disturbed his slumber. Dak’ir ran his hand over Eclipse’s head as he finally caught up, picking a spot of deer skin from his ear with a soft chuckle. It had been a long time since they hunted together. He shook his head as he rumbled softly against Dak’ir’s hand. The dark elf pursed his lip, he knew this wasn’t something the old wolf tended to do. He seemed to beckon for Dak’ir’s touch more and more these days, it wasn’t something completely out of his realm but even to Dak’ir the alpha always tried to play it off as a begrudging love. Bearing his teeth at his companion or even snarling, but always accepting of the touch. Now it seemed like he was asking for it, asking for more, for help. After a scratch behind his ear they continued on until Luara rose to watch over them. Seeking a familiar peak near a glowing pale pillar bathed in moonlight the two finally came to a stop. The shaman sat slowly, his ankles and back popping as he settled in and folded his legs. Bringing a shaky hand to his robe he drew a long wooden pipe that was already prepared with a bowl of the family smokeleaf, their favorite. He sat quietly as he watched his companion circle the flat mountain peak and sniff edges here and there, taking a look up to the moon for a long moment. Finally after a small huff the hulking eldered wolf made his way to Dak’ir circling him before laying behind him, wrapping himself around the dark elf and resting his head in his lap. This was their way for as long as Dak’ir was a shaman, Eclipse had always watched over the ‘Ker’s body and even journeyed with him beyond sometimes when he took other dark elves or orcs into the Ancestral Plane. They were one. Always watching over one another. Dak’ir lit the pipe with a matchstick, tossing it to the side as he laid back against the onyx sea of Eclipse’s fur, breathing a soft grey cloud into the night sky. The old wolf raised his head for a moment to take in a deep breath of the sweet smelling smoke, afterwards his eyes turned to meet Dak’s staring into them for what seemed like an eternity before finally laying his head to rest on Dak’ir’s lap once more. The shaman bobbed his head slowly as he took another deep inhale from the pipe and settled against Eclipse once more. His voice was shaky as the words left his throat, the otherworldly speech of the Spirits, they slowly managed to leave him in a soft monotone as he seemed to try to sing them. The embers of his pipe glowed a golden hue as he took in the smoke and held it within, tears rolled down his cheeks as a thick black cloud poured from his lips. Washing the two in a cloud of ebony as the world melted around them. Traveling to the Ancestral Plane was something Dak’ir did daily, but this time he felt different. As if he was being hurdled through the darkness, like when he first became a shaman. Lost. He panicked, reaching for anything to take hold of within his grasp before taking a tight hold of a tuft of fur. Eclipse snarled as Dak’ir’s vision swam back into his mind, the realm of Stargush fading in around him as he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he breathed another one more somber as he realized that this was the end, their final journey was meeting its conclusion. They stood in a sea of tall golden grass bordering a great forest. Dak’ir could see a familiar tanned figure waiting at the edge, he raised his hand to his old friend, the one who would watch over his companion now. Dak’ir knelt before Eclipse, here in this realm the old wolf was in the prime of his age, a predator unmatched. Here he would know paradise, he would know the rest and honor he deserved. Though it still pained his heart to say goodbye, Eclipse moved forward to bump his head against Dak’ir’s before turning and zipping off though the grass towards Phaedrus. Dak’ir stood slowly as he watched him leave, he knew this was not to last forever, he knew that better than anyone. He knew a day would come soon when he too could join them. He’d lost many over the years. But there are rare times you will ever meet a descendant as faithful and loyal as that. Rest, my friend. Rest easy…

The old shaman shuddered as he pulled his cloak around himself outside of his little cavern. “As thin as the onyx seams are nowadays, the sons and daughters of the Sanctum will be there any way they can.”

Beyond Kor’s Gateway sat a familiar face to both the new and now seasoned spirits of Stargûsh’Stroh, his usual haze perpetuating from his being like a soft blanket fog in this primordial realm. He smiled warmly to the two though his somber eyes would reveal his more true feelings. Delighted as he was that they had gone beyond, that the Spirits had watched over them as he had promised these two, he could not help but mourn they passing with grief. Two genuine ‘Ker taken too soon from their kin. But such was the fate of many good ‘Ker over the centuries as he knew, injustice practically being normalcy to the ashen kin... “Come my brothers, there are many sights to see here. Much to learn and still room to grow your spirits. I can even bring the two of you to meet Jiub, he and I were dear friends when he still lived... Death is merely the next step to our kin. I know you two will be at home here in peace, learning, and vigilance. And I am very proud of you both for the lives you’ve lived.”

Dak’ir sat alone in his camp, speechless as he dropped the letter from the Jusmia clan. A young and bright soul darkened far too soon. “Rest well my apprentice. You deserve it far more than most. And our kin shall know of your deeds and your heart. I shall see you soon.

Dak’ir just thinks the place should just have been razed after Avurak’s passing.

The few days of journey were practically paradise to the ashen kin. The time on the open sea refreshing their spirits as they sang and shared food with their new hitchhiking companions. Tales told upon the deck alongside orcish friends and adventures to hidden isle in search of new beasts and old memories to return home with. Though as always the high seas bring higher dangers as the wrath of a great kraken began to rip it’s way through the flotilla of the descendants.The wrath of nature always posing the greatest threat that they were always ill prepared for. Others forced to flee to other ships or simply hope their lifebuoy of wreckage would wash them ashore. They’d no choice but to resist in vain, striking against the colossal tentacle as it slapped and ripped their vessel asunder. The bow of the ship had already begun to take on water and the ship began her descent. But in her final moments, the new friends of the ‘Ker rose to action. As the tentacle made it’s final sundering strike to split the ship in twain, the large bat creatures that had taken refuge upon their deck sprang into action. Swarming around the failing vessel they began to strike out at the kraken, ripping chunks of flesh from it’s hide and tossing them to the sea below, all the while the others still surrounding the ship began plucking the ‘Ker one by one from the wreckage and ferried them off into the night sky. Kin of the night, the dark elves and their new chiropteran allies soared overhead, watching the destruction that wrought it’s way through the fleet. Though not wanting to tarry they ventured onward into the tempestuous night, clearly the Spirit of storms on their side as well as the wind whipped and battered the night kin. What felt like only a moment had passed before they made the first sight of land. The old Uruk lands and Cloud Temple came into view through the torrents of rain that battered them. Soaring inland and over the dwemer mountains, the bats placed the ‘Ker upon the remnants of some great mountain beast’s nest, perhaps a gryphon or something, it mattered little now. Quickly setting up lodgings within the hollowed remains of an old building, they waited out the blizzard that now seemed to wrap their camp. Huddled within and recovering, they prepared themselves for the days to come. For the hallowed days of pilgrimage to journey into the home they had left behind over two centuries ago.

They had loved their home, fought hard against it’s creatures to secure their safety. But tragedy would befall the ashen kin in their attempts to hide from the eyes of the world from the stout men of stone this time oddly enough. But of course Onyx would endure and move on to greener pastures so to speak, homelier caves perhaps more apt. But they would huddle in their cool cavern’s freshly opened brewery this night to tell the tale of what came after. They sat at various tables and in smoking pits before the weary elder as he thumbed at the bowl his crystalline pipe. A few sat in a pit taking turns with their guitars, lutes, and drums, passing a hooka’s hose back and forth. Dak’ir let out a raspy half cough half laugh as he looked around the room. “How lucky we are, perhaps favored even…” The weary shaman shifted in his seat before the the great wall mural of the tavern. The image of a great, weaving pitch black lurker risen in a defiant rear against a carved image of Arganos the Festive as he faced the great monstrosity in elder times. A great blue crystal in one hand and a bow in the other as he faced Magarah’lin’s menace and brought it low. In his and Votar’s names the sons and daughters of Onyx strived to honor them in a similar matter within their previous high hollows of the north. Dak’ir would light his refreshed pipe with the candle at his table, watching it glow as he seemed to soak the moment in before looking back to his audience and began to paint his picture. “As many of you were already aware, far below our old hollow there was an infestation of lurkers in an abandoned mineshaft. We’d had several incursions to their den previously to hunt the larger ones that would skitter their way up our cliff face that led into our Sanctum. We’d planned on asking the dwed for aid, before the time they had discovered us. After.. Well. We’re all already tired of talking about the dwed, hm?” The old ‘Ker chuckled to himself a moment. “But I knew that day we’d have to cover our tracks properly, make a ruckus that would distract anyone who came to our now abandoned home. While all of you back in our home gathered up your belongings for the caravan we had went for one final hunt to the mineshaft.” As the old shaman said this he’d turned his gaze to Daichia and his clan who’d gathered around the bar. The young patriarch smiled back to Dak’ir and he raised his pipe back in salute. “We knew taking out the brood mother was next to impossible without very heavy ordinance. No this night was meant purely to kick the hornet’s nest so to speak. The Lurkers had covered the entrance with more gravel, digging deeper nests no doubt, but with enough Jusmia firework powder stuffed into the entrance of the shaft we knew we’d make our mark. Admittedly the aim was to slay the brood mother for our own prize and hope that the result would cause a spread of new nests. And while I’m sure the latter has happened, the former far less so. With a little too much powder packed and perhaps some gas from within the mine itself we watched the entrance blow open from nearby cover in a kaleidoscope display of colors… Before the horrors came screeching forth aflame. The mother ploughing her way through the remains of the entrance with her full brood in tow. They blanketed the cavern’s great walls to run and hide for new cover, trying to escape the colored flame stuck to their backs. We turned tail as soon as she broke through, we knew something was wrong. The walls began to split and crack and the swarm began to turn their wrath upon us as great stones fell, threatening to bring the whole under realm upon us. But as we swung and fled these very stones fell and crushed that which opposed us. Avalanches of gravel and massive boulders falling all around us. As if Bregthar himself had heard our calls for protection and had been watching over our small hunting band. How blessed we may not even realize we are… After we gained some breathing room we’d flee straight home to the Sanctum to get upon our own mounts and meet you all within Ghroza’s Respite, our first sanctuary when we left the madness of Vira’ker.” “Once we regrouped we set out southward to the shores of the wildlands. Daichia and his clansmen had gone there in the previous weeks to assemble our escape. Beautiful longships carved from the towering pines of the northern forests, truly nothing beyond the Jusmia craft, turned over and covered by the boughs of the trees that were used to form them until the time came. We came to the shores and quickly uncovered our transports before turning them over and assembling their sails. Pushing us into the chilling sea we climbed aboard and loaded our disassembling caravan. Soon our sails were dropped and the night’s wind carried them into the open seas. We of course made sure to pass the hollow city of Vira’ker, to pay homage to our first home in this land and to Prince Avurak... After letting the currents take us far enough away they soon set a course eastward towards the warm breeze. Beyond the decaying Hou-zi village our ships split the golden sands of the southern jungles and Luara’s children began to move inland. Her vigil had finally come to it’s end and Aztran’s crown began to pierce the opposite horizon. Myself, Daichia, and Inara led our people to a great hollow we’d found in their previous hunts. We knew it would be a refuge even all that time ago, as history follows for our people.” ”We’d turned our little hollow into the Onyx Vault and soon made it our home. As always shrines and totems came and reverence spread. A lost fortress claimed for Onyx veneration. We’d saved souls from Sutica, Asimu'lei, even feral kin and anyone else our priests could find. All were taken in to learn the Old Ways and the enlightening path of the Spirits and our Ancestors. Our people were rising once again. Within the shadows and within the light as well. North of the Vault the nation of Renalia had strived to bring our kin to light and form a strong nation after the fall of Vira’ker, they had formed alliances with our cousins and were on the way to securing an ashen domain and embracing the eldered lost ways of the Maehr. We struck an easy friendship with these ‘Ker of their new Golden Way. Together in unity we crowned a King, one sworn under the Ancestors and Spirits alike. In unity we gather once again for the first time since our arrival to this world and our breaking at the hands of the humans. Now, in unity, we lash back at those that sought to oppress and diminish us. Within this hollow we begin anew, but shall remember our trials and take pilgrimage to the Vault as well as our other holy sites. Lûp Luara, lûp Kor! Let the Lunar Dawn rise!” The Primarch rose from his seat, his staff his high over his head as he let a yell loose and his fellow ‘Ker jumped from this seats to roar in return. They’d all toast and continue the merriment of the night and the Primarch made his way outside to the balcony, a trail of smoke seeming to follow him. Letting a relieved sigh loose before he took in a deep breath of the hot air coming from the molten lake. “Home… I hope we have made you all proud.” He would say to himself.

Dak’ir smiles the Moon’s smile as the dark elven holy land spreads.

Dak’ir smiles alongside the Dalmakia and their hoards within the Ancestral Plane at dark elven prosperity.

It’s only a matter of time...

Dak’ir rubs his hands together as a new market opens up.