Oni brings light to the darkness
12
SEP/20
Mar’iya looked up from his work on the hyena pelt at the sound of the music the flute produced. Oni had crafted the flute for Naga out of the claws of the mighty bulette that had assailed them the other day and, unsurprisingly they sounded great when the young elf blew into them. The sound was full and bright, like sunlight first finding you after a long, cold night, and all of the pipes seemed to be perfectly in tune with one another. While Naga was not too familiar with this sort of instrument, he figured it out quickly and was soon playing a hauntingly beautiful melody. Oni, with a joyous smile on his face, joined in on his drums; the sound dancing off of the red stone cliffs that surrounded them. Sora plinked her clawed hands over her scintillating silver scales, adding high percussive notes to the impromptu concert. Leo, David and Mar’iya smiled broadly and leaned back against the hot crimson cliff-face and enjoyed the show. Oni’s new mission to bring a little goodness and light into the world seemed to be paying off. It was a beautiful moment – a thing of rarity in this terrible world – but before the song was finished, Mar’iya went back to wringing the urine out of the pelt with his bare hands; the world wasn’t all goodness and light, real work still needed to get done.
Mar’iya’s first attempt at curing the hyena hides had left the skins stiff and cracking, with the fur threatening to come off in patches. There simply wasn’t enough water and salt to do an adequate job to get the hides soft and pliable enough to wear. Urine was the next best thing he found out, much to his chagrin. Fortunately the camels produced ample volumes of it, and the shoulder piece of the bulette carapace that he had cut from its corpse provided a sizeable bowl with which to work the leather. It was smelly, sticky work, but Mar’iya was pleasantly surprised by how they were turning out. Next he had to work on the lion hides for Naga and Sora, realizing that might be a hard sell: Mar’iya saw the looks of disgust they threw his way as he worked with the pungent liquid. They would be swayed when they saw how well his hyena cloak fit, of that he was certain, as he wrung the last drops of piss out of the hide.
When he was confident the pelt was as pliable as it could get, Mar’iya stretched it out on a hot flat rock and placed several large stones on the ends of it to hold it in place. It would smell of ammonia for a day or two, but after that it would look and feel positively regal. He then pulled one of the ogre teeth he had collected from the brutes who had attacked them earlier and, turning his back to the new additions to the group – he wasn’t fully comfortable showing them Pakku’s dagger yet, as it was worth a small fortune – Mar’iya began to carve sigils into the tooth. He attempted to mimic some of the symbology they had seen upon the black obelisk they had stumbled upon in the desert, where the ghost of a long dead king had set them out upon an impossible quest. A few of the teeth had not turned out well at all, and he had left them hidden in the sands as they traveled. But his hand was getting steadier, and this tooth showed real promise, looking more like a work of art than the lower canine of a giant brute. If he could get a few more to look like this one and flank them with a few of the lion fangs he had collected, it would make a fine necklace. Mar’iya looked at it with pride as he put the finishing touches on a rune that looked faintly like a stylized eye. Yes, this was his best one yet…
As he worked, Mar’iya would reflect on the many turns his life had taken in the few short months that he could remember. During his time with the Yavapai, Mar’iya could not be bothered to help track, hunt, or help with crafting and chores. He had felt that he was above such menial, base activities – he was a highborn cultured elite, after all. That man would not be caught dead working a leather hide elbow deep in camel piss, but his time with the Gardiward house in Raam had changed him. There, surrounded by all their finery and sophistication, he found himself longing for life on the road. Fighting for survival in the harsh desert wastes was far preferable – and safer – than navigating the barbed and poisoned tongues of the city nobility. Things were simpler in the desert – either you found food and water and lived another day, or you died and your body fed the ravenous sands, becoming dust in the scorching winds. Besides, that city world belonged to Vashir, and that monster was best kept safely stowed away.
Not stowed away too securely, mind you, for Mar’iya feared that Vashir would be needed when they got back to the pyramid. Vashir excelled at vengeance if nothing else, and there were ample servings of that to be dealt out when they faced off against the Cult of Amun’Re again. There were scores to settle and deaths to avenge; Mar’iya felt the shadow of Vashir stirring restlessly within him at the mere thought of the impending battle. Vashir was a river of darkness that resided within him at all times, threatening to overflow its banks and leave devastation in its wake at the slightest provocation. Mar’iya on the other hand, was a fleshy construct of eddies and dams designed to control the raging froth; but he wondered if it could hold? He wondered if he wanted it to hold? Mar’iya felt better to him, more comfortable, like a warm blanket on a cold night. But Vashir…he was the viper who walks like a man; he was a weapon to be wielded without remorse. He…
…Mar’iya grimaced in pain as the dagger slipped off of the tusk and drove into his thumb. The blood within acted surprised, as if awoken from a deep sleep, only coming to the wound to see what had happened only after many moments had passed. But when it did come, it burst out like a belligerent drunkard looking for a fight. Mar’iya cursed silently and stuck his thumb in his mouth in an effort to stem the metallic-tasting liquid that poured forth, trying in vain to forget that this thumb had only recently been coated in camel piss. He didn’t know what hurt worse, his thumb, his pride, or the fact that he had carelessly ruined his best carved tusk?
At that moment, Naga began to play another song on the claw pipes, a more raucous, upbeat tune. Sora broke in to a story about her time in the gladiatorial pits, where she had squared off against two half-giants and had nearly died. Though he had doubtless heard this story a dozen times, David watched her with rapt attention as she recounted her tale. Mar’iya glanced over at Oni, where he sat, apart from the group but watching the festivities. He wore a giant, toothy smile spread wide across his face, but his eyes told another story. There was a soft sadness there, as those eyes gazed upon the memory of a young serving girl, doubtless wondering if they would ever behold her in the flesh again.
As he looked upon his friend, Mar’iya could not help but wonder if there was a well of darkness inside the young monk, as there was in himself. Would he be able to stem the tide and maintain his light when he came face to face with those who had taken his family and friends from him? Oni wanted to bring goodness and light in this world, but can such ideals persevere in the face of those who had taken so much from him? For his friend’s sake, and for the sake of maintaining even a bare glimmer of hope in this brutal world, Mar’iya fervently hoped so.
GM + arcanjl + wrinkk01 + Schroedergs + jordin_frey + AJCole + zacharytheshouse + ggh1981
Though it is a while off, Mar’iya is working towards getting the Skilled Feat when it comes available, and getting skills more acclimated to desert nomad life: Survival, Leather-working, and Jewlery-making at this point…