The Rydian Chronicles: Mysidia: Fragments Passed.

[p]Well, it took quite a while to read this story from the beginning, but I must say, I'm very glad that I have. Nicely done, I hope that you are planning to continue.[/p][p]There were points where I was tempted to skim ahead to see when this or that delima would be resolved. When that happens, I know that I'm liking the book.[/p][p]Thank you for sharing this with the rest of us.[/p]

[p]Well she had better i might just have to bann her from the next few raids just to get the point across.[/p][p] [/p][p]<<You know I'm kidding hon, so hmm please heal me when i get agro. Plz plz plz plz I promise to be a good boy for at least an hour. Maybe even two>>[/p]

[p]I had missed this story [/p][p]Glad you took a break though because I did too and now I don't really have to catch up [/p]

Still loving the story, Mysidia! By the way, which server are you on? I'm on Befallen as Looninie, the only Looni Bin in Dawn of Evolution to date! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[p]Good gods, Befallen has taken over the forum![/p][p]If we were to ever get together at the same time, Norrath would truly tremble... :twisted:[/p][p]Welcome back, Mysidia. Now get back to the story.[/p]

In the back of a rather ornate estate house, Val'eth sat writing in an old parchment book. The room he was in was dimly lit with only a small fire to keep warm and a candle in which to write.
Dark elves didn't need light as the other species did. Evolution had bestowed them the gift of Low Light Vision that they only needed the smallest bit of twilight to see into the darkest depths. It was widely whispered that a few families were blessed with Dark Vision, where they needed nothing to sneak around in the late hours of the night. And it was within those families that they coveted this gift. There were a few other secrets about these Houses, but finding out such information had a way of becoming hazardous to your health and Val'eth had other projects to consider.
The small beeswax candle sputtered pitifully in the dark womb of a study Val'eth had created for himself. Large heavy velvet theatrical drapes hung thickly on the massive picture windows choking whatever light could possibly find its way in. The walls were dark colored. It was hard to tell exactly what color they were with the poor light that was being displayed. The shelves were all immaculately clean and neat with each book sitting in a precise order.
Val'eth dipped a vibrant plume into a small ink bottle and lightly tapped it on the carved mouth to shake any access ink off. He continued to scribble down onto the wrinkled and age stained parchment. The light scratching sound of the quill end being pushed along seemed to give its own little "paper cuts" to the silence around him. And as insignificant as the sound was, it soothed him.
He remembered spending summers at his grandparents' estate and being lulled to sleep at the sound of his grandfather writing down his memoirs. It was that memory that called him to write his own.
Since Val'eth had arrived back in Freeport, he had taken extreme measures to be completely isolated. He wasn't the head of his House, as his sister was still alive. And in some circles, it was completely Matriarchal. He had heard of some Houses where there were in joint administration of the house among both sexes, but his family was painfully old fashioned and traditional, much to his dismay.
Being that his sister was still alive, he held some rank within the Estate, but when he was home, he preferred to be left alone and not reminded of his lesser place. Most of the house adhered to his wishes. It was only in the dire of emergencies or his own personal wants, that he was to be disturbed.
A small rap came on the thick wooden door. Val'eth, raising an eyebrow, looked up at the door curious as to who was brave enough to disobey him.
"New servants...", he muttered. His sister was always lavishly spending his family's money in buying new things. Servants were among them. Then again, they never seemed to last long in his Estate. His sister had some rather unusual...desires. The methods of her "entertainment" were used by him in the strictest of interrogations where time was a precious commodity and he had little of it.
"Yes?", he said annoyed.
The door slowly parted open and a rather scrawny, malnourished Halfling peered from the other side. Val'eth didn't recognize the servant. New indeed.
"Ugh. I really must talk to my sister about where she gets her help, these days.", he said to himself.
"I'm sorry, Master, for troubling you...", he began to stammer.
"Yes, what is it? You've gone this far in disturbing me. You might as well come out and say what you thought important to interrupt me about.", Val'eth said and continued to write in his book.
"Your guest is here.", he said softly.
Val'eth paused and looked up perplexed. Guest? He didn't remember inviting anyone over.
In the years that he has encountered the people of Freeport, he began to witness and understand the talents and gifts of certain species. He knew that Erudites were noted for their extreme intelligence and their wordless speech that they used amongst themselves. The first time he encountered one, he felt this brush across his mind. It was almost like watching what a delicate wind did to a few pieces of paper with an open window.
He only knew of two types who did this, Erudites and those in the Enchanting arts. Feeling this same breeze across his mind and gave a small smirk remembering that he did, in fact, invite over a very special guest.
"Yes, yes. Show him in.", Val'eth said and waved off the servant. He continued to write and when he heard the soft thud of the door closing, he looked up to see a rather largely built Barbarian looking right at him.
Val'eth half expected to see a High Elf working his way up from his Qeynos betrayal. But a Barbarian...? Perhaps it had worked down that far, Val'eth thought to himself.
"I had sent for...", Val'eth began.
"I am Rockmon.", the large man said in an usually quiet voice. The Barbarian was taller than most, but held a thinner stature than others of his kind. Val'eth surmised it was due to his guest's chosen profession. It was the balance of life. For a strong mind, you give up a strong body and vice versa.
"I see.", Val'eth answered. He quietly rose from his seat and waved his hand over the fire. Like a cat reaching up to be stroked, the flames roared up, quickly illuminating the room around them.
Rockmon, being dressed in the appropriate robes, found it courteous to take off the hood he was wearing. A slickly shaved head gave it's own soft sheen in the firelight. Rockmon's features were heavy and thick boned like all of his kind, but barely held any muscle mass. He had his traditional decorating tattoos and his long beard was kept neat, trim, and braided laying clean against his robe. His eyes, though...that is where his power was kept as they held the unusual color of pale aqua green. It was as if Val'eth was staring into the foamy sea of Thundering Stepps and they seemed to show their power from within.
"Please, have a seat.", Val'eth said as he waved his hand towards an adjacent chair. Rockmon inclined his head politely and sat down in the lush velvet arm chair. Val'eth walked over to a small silk woven chord on the wall and gave it a small tug. The glittery sound of bells was heard in the distance. Val'eth walked around him to take his seat and he held a knowing smirk on his face.
"What is it?", Rockmon asked
"I see the family resemblance.", Val'eth said cryptically. He was about to embellish on that when there was another knock at the door and a short human female child walked into the room.
"Bring me my usual and a small repast for our guest.", Val'eth said and the servant bowed deeply as she left the room without a sound.
"Family resemblance?", Rockmon began.
Val'eth paused for a moment before taking a large book from the table they were sitting at and began to thumb through various pages. "I understand that you spent the majority of your childhood in the Freeport Orphanage and that you knew little of your parents or even your extended family...", Val'eth said as he scanned through the book.
"Yes. You could have simply asked me this when we met previously. It's no secret that I did my growing up in the Academy. Why did you drag me here?", Rockmon asked leaning back and folding his arm gently.
"My family is known for being Chroniclers within my own race. We write down everything since history has a wicked way of repeating itself and changing at the same time. Time wears many masks and only when we learn what they are, that we can change them ourselves.", Val'eth began, "My great great grandfather had written a passage in his memoirs that I think you might be interested in."
Val'eth leaned back and took the large dusty book into his lap. His blood red eyes scanned over a page and with his finger, he followed it along as he read.
"...even after Luclin had torn us asunder, I found myself in the middle of a racial evolution. The lines that were firmly in place began to almost instantly blur and those of us who would sooner kill a lesser, have begun to entertain the idea of friendship and even furthering the relationship into marriage. One such Barbarian family comes to mind as several of that clan branched off with a village of High Elves. The mutual relationship guaranteed their survival as one would surely die without the other's help. The Barbarians provided the protection and the High Elves provided the medicines to treat their sick..."
Rockmon leaned into the table and narrowed his eyes and he began to recall the familiarity of such a story. "Please, continue.", he said softly.
"He doesn't say much more than that until a few years later...", Val'eth said as he scanned through the book. "Ah, here it is... ‘...and in looking in on the experimental Barbarian/High Elf clan, I could scarcely believe my eyes when children, born of both, were running around as though such a thing should be natural. I was astonished and surprised to hear that the High Elves even entertaining the idea of cross breeding as they are almost as much a purist as the Teir'Dal...'
Rockmon was so enthralled with Val'eth's story that he barely noticed the servant laying out a wonderful platter of meats, fruits, and cheeses. If it weren't for the spicy aroma of the marinated meats, he would have ignored it completely.
"I don't think I have to tell you what happened from there.", Val'eth said and grabbed the jewel encrusted goblet that was placed before him.
"Little was told me and the Freeport Library is scarce on the books before The Shattering." Rockmon said as he began to pick at the sprig of grapes.
"The High Elves that have rumored to still exist on Greater Faydark were the ones that supposedly ransacked your village. They consider half breeds an abomination. I understand that the blood in you is nearly pure...", Val'eth said looking up briefly for a reaction.
Rockmon's jaw set hard. Unless a trained eye knew what they were looking for, one look at Rockmon would tell you that he was Barbarian. It wasn't unheard of for Barbarians to carry such an eye color, but it was due to his High Elf heritage that he had them. Since the ransacking, he had become a purist - warding off anything that was of two races.
It was understandable. It was his family's indiscretions that lead to their demise and Rockmon wasn't given the education of tolerance. He managed as best he could with what he had and unfortunately, a purist was what he became.
"I am grateful for the history lesson, but I still fail to see why I'm here.", Rockmon said, his ire growing.
"What if I told you that a certain cousin was still alive...several times removed, of course.", Val'eth said smirking. Rockmon squinted deep in thought. Seeing his hint fall on deaf ears, he continued, "..with a certain wife of an endangered race..."
Rockmon's eyes widened realizing who he meant. "Machene lived?"
"As did his ssindossa of a wife.", Val'eth nearly spat.
Machene's family were cousins to Rockmon's and the only branch that seemed to be of pure Barbarian blood. Sadly, the majority of the Drakkenbanes had died out and the rest of his extended family were half breeds and so on. The idea of Machene creating a half breed race with his Rydian wife infuriated Rockmon to no end. Now he began to see why Val'eth went to great lengths to arrange this meeting.
"It seems we both have a mutual enemy on our hands.", Val'eth mentioned.
Rockmon, at a loss for words, looked up at Val'eth. "What do you need me for?"
"I had heard that you were the top of your class and that your abilities are worth mentioning. It seems your High Elf heritage had given you purpose after all..", Val'eth said, "I am in need of such abilities."
Rockmon eyed curiously at the goblet Val'eth seemed to covet. Whatever was in it, he held with great enthusiasm.
"What would you have me do?", Rockmon asked finally.
"I have a plan in place that needs some...encouragement. The ideas I have for the future don't exactly include a Has Been Queen trying to regain a fallen throne. Simply put, I need you to drive her mad.", Val'eth said.
"Insane? Whatever for?", Rockmon asked with his curiosity peaked.
"She has been painfully elusive to the means I have dispatched. It seems the gods themselves are playing chess with me in this. You using such abilities would make it easier for my plan to be executed. I understand that your abilities have grown to where all you would need is something of treasured value to her in order to do this. If I can get you this item, will you comply?" Val'eth said and took another drink.
Rockmon's eyes seemed to ripple with an aqua fire as he grinned evilly in the firelight around them.
"Without question, Val'eth.", he said, his voice curling with malice.
Val'eth gave a soft chuckle. "Excellent."

[p]Woooot Rockmon![/p][p] [/p][p]Good chapter![/p]

oh that was so very very nice thanks

mmm, more munchable chapters! more!

[p]Innnnteresting.... :twisted:[/p][p]You need to write more, and more often.[/p][p]Yes, the pot is calling the kettle here.[/p]

[p]Heheh...[/p][p]Methinks Akasha isn't going to like the sound of this when she finds out...but that's just me thinking.:wink:[/p][p]Looking forward to the next installment.[/p]

[p]/twitch[/p][p]and don't think that you're off the hook either[/p][p]Making me wait an entire week is jsut unacceptable[/p]

[p]page 2 obsecuriety.... /sigh [/p][p]I don't think that i like your new job. it takes up too much of your time that should be spent finishing up this tale.[/p]

I apologize for not updating this more often.

Since the release of the new expansion, I've quit the game. Mostly due to the fact that they've changed quite a few things that ticked me off and left to the wayside the things that they SHOULD have changed and didn't. I spent a good amount of time on Mysidia as a toon and it's a shame to have it end this way.

I'm also awaiting the birth of my son. I'm due December 13th so Machene and I had to quit and pick up games that we could put on "pause" when the need arose.

I do still plan on writing on this story. Mysidia's tale is not done. But since my account expires on Nov. 28th, you won't be able to read it here.

You will be able to read it here, though...

http://mysidia.livejournal.com/

I'll update it this weekend to where it's supposed to be at. And since I'll be taking care of my baby, I'll be able to write a bit more. My job won't be taking up most of my time.

Hope all is well with everyone.

Missing you already, but I, of all people, understand about new babies...
Will bookmark your website to tune in. I've honestly considered doing the same with Kinslayer's several times, but then I'd have to learn to make my website work... lol.
Will be thinking of you. Take care, Mys.

Hope all goes well for you guys & good luck w/ the lil Rydian. (But don't let yourself get down if you don't manage to write as much as you hope after birth...babies suck out brain-cells when they feed. I know it's kind of a grim picture...lil tiny necro feeding off the zombie-like parent, but the time when my kids were little is just a 2 yr long blur that I have no memory of).
So get to work girl & write now...we are still waiting for the story.

Grats and I'm not sure if i should be scared or not that your sonis due a week after mine is due or not. As to posting... you do know hon that after your account has expired that you can still post like I'm doing now. I've been meaning to resetmine but have not done so yet.

*A faint click can be heard in the distance and the sound of a heavy wooden door creaking annoyed as a response. A tall Rydian woman walks in carrying a lantern. She coughs for a moment as the thick stale and dusty air assaults her nose. She peers up at a neglected bookcase and runs her finger over several of the books, left over time to do what time does: decay. She widely smiles, picks up a thick leatherbound book and dusts it off, wiping several years of grime away.*
Why hello, old friend. I wondered what I had done with you.
*Looks distant for a moment and smiles as she carries the book off into her study.*

*smiles*
-gets anxious waiting-

I hope people are still reading these forums. As promised, here is another installment. Hopefully, one of many. Enjoy.

Five hundred and sixty years ago…
It was dusk in an ancient forest. Tall thick conifers towered the sky like giant sentinels silently witnessing a historical event. Deer quietly grazed on the forest floor, mist shooting out of their wet nostrils in the coolness of the oncoming night.
The wet thick scent of earth clung to the air and all remained silent, as if holding their breath for something monumental to occur. Two doe lifted their heads and watched a line of wood elves trot on horses approach a clearing.
A male Barbarian, gray from old age, sat waiting. His face was weathered with time and the sorrows of battle, and stained with woad from long ago. His eyes, however, were keen and alert.
Moments later, another line of horses began to come from the other direction. The trees seemed to understand what was taking place and began to blow a light breeze throughout the forest. Several of the wood elves looked up and peered at the message around them.
A male wizard sat on top of a large gray war horse. His long white beard was braided and beaded with blue crystal beads, matching his intense eyes. And although his beard was long and white, signaling his age, his face appeared to be too young to hold such a thing.
“Is this the child?” the male wood elf asked.
“Yes.”, the wizard returned.
The wood elves began to gasp and circle around them, looking for themselves. In the arms of the wizard slept a tiny baby girl, with her hand wrapped around part of his beard, sleeping contently.
“We of the Wolf Song Tribe will raise her as Druid, to learn the ways of The Great Mother, to be in tune with Her heartbeat and to listen to the song of Her breath. Tunare commands it.”, the male Barbarian said.
“So be it. We are forever grateful of your gracious nature, Bearsoul. If it is the will of Tunare, she will be raised as a Druid.” the wizard replied.
“Hail Mardock, Guardian of the Chosen.” Bearsoul called out to the woods. Everyone bowed their heads in reverence and the woods themselves seemed to quiet as if to give their own respect.
The tiny baby looked up at Bearsoul. Two shockingly violet eyes looked into his face and she gave him a warm toothless grin, giggling as she touched his chin. Bearsoul couldn’t help but love her immediately and a soft spot in his heart grew for the tiny child.
And so it was that Mysidia became a Druid of the Wolf Song Tribe.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Several years later, Mysidia was riding through the woods, that she grew to know as good as any Druid. Her usual companion, Joffrey, was a hearty Barbarian. They were friendly rivals of sorts and always managed to get into some kind of trouble. Mysidia was the mastermind of the pair, as her strong willed nature often “persuaded” Joffrey to follow suit. He simply couldn’t say “no” to her.
As they both rounded the bend and jumped their horses over the creek ahead of them, Mysidia reined her horse short. She lifted her head and smelled.
“Ugh! What is that smell?!” she said and quickly covered her nose.
Joffrey smelled and his nose wrinkled. “I don’t know, Mys. But whatever it is, leave it be. We can’t go and look. We are way too far away from home and I don’t think Bearsoul or Mardock would be happy on how far we’ve wandered.”
Mysidia pursed her lips for a moment, wrestling with the two voices in her head. Curiosity got the better of her and she gave Joffrey a grin before nudging her horse forward. Joffrey cursed under his breath and hesitated.
If he went, he was surely going to be in the same amount of trouble that Mysidia was going to be in. If he stayed, he couldn’t assure her safety. He felt personally responsible for Mysidia’s safety, ever since they were little.
In the distance, where the trees thinned to a visible line, Mysidia could see a plume of thick black smoke choking the horizon. She stopped her horse short and dismounted quietly, sneaking over a few bushes and using her abilities to blend into her surroundings. Her violet eyes gazed hard through the foliage of the wilderness around her.
“Tunare have mercy…” she seemed to breathe. “Joffrey, what…what is that place?”
Joffrey paused for a moment, recognizing it. In the years growing up with Mysidia, he came to know what she was, not so much who, but what. He was hesitating on telling her the truth, knowing that it would cause fury to rage in her heart.
Mysidia pinched his arm and thinned her lips out in annoyance. “OUCH!” Joffrey exclaimed and the moment his voice echoed through the trees, they slouched every lower to the ground, wincing.
“Shhh!” Mysidia persisted. “Well…? Are you going to tell me?”
Joffrey sighed. “It’s… a sacrificial altar.”
Mysidia grew dangerously quiet and simply watched in grotesque horror. She could barely make out the slaver dragging a fighting body up the steps of the flat top pyramid. She watched in helpless horror as the slaver bent the body backwards. After an Iksar priest said a few words in his native tongue, a curved blade was quickly shoved into the exposed chest and a beating heart was immediately cut out, only to serve as a burning effigy in the pyres before the priest.
“…Who…” she could barely make out the words. Bile began to slink its way up her throat and she found it very difficult to swallow or think.
"They’re Iksar.” Joffrey said looking down at his hands, knowing where the line of questioning was going to go.
“…and the slave?” Mysidia asked, her eyes full of sadness.
Joffrey shook his head, not wanting to answer. He closed his eyes. “Don’t, Mys…”
“They’re Rydian, aren’t they..?” she asked getting up.
“Mys…” Joffrey said looking at her. Tears began to form in her eyes as she turned her attention to the altar once again. The whole horrific event had been placed on a loop, as she witnessed the slaver bringing another body.
She clenched her fists tighter than anything she had held before. She could feel her fingernails dig into her palms, they were so tight. The screams from the altar subsided as another slave was sacrificed.
Joffrey looked up as the winds began to stir. Thick dark storm clouds began to form over where they were hiding. Joffrey shot up to his feet and grabbed Mysidia by the shoulders.
“No! Mys, you can’t!” he said, shaking her.
“Give me one good reason…” she said darkly.
“It’s not our place.” he said trying to reason with her.
Mysidia looked at him and furled her brow in confusion. Joffrey, as if reading her mind, answered. “Only Tunare’s Chosen is allowed to break the line of Neutrality. You are a Druid. Your first allegiance is to nature. Anything to bring it out of balance is an enemy to you. This…” he said pointing to the distance “...is not your fight.”
“When is Tunare’s Chosen supposed to come?” she asked feeling helpless.
“No one knows when he will be born. Bearsoul is one of three who know of the Prophecy. And good luck getting anything out of him.” Joffrey said nudging Mysidia’s shoulder in jest, hoping to break her concentration of the storm brewing overhead.
“Mysidia! Joffrey!” she heard Mardock’s voice yell.
Both of them winced as they looked over, knowing full well what was about to happen. One of the riders with Mardock, began to scold Joffrey. Mardock dismounted and looked to where Mysidia’s attention lay. He took in a deep breath, realizing what he was witnessing.
“Come, child. We have much to discuss.”, he said stern.
Mysidia returned to the tribe in silence. Joffrey went back to Bearsoul’s thatched hut and Mysidia walked sullenly towards Mardock’s.
Mardock closed the door behind them and placed his riding cloak on the hook. “You play a dangerous game, Mysidia. You could have been caught.”, Mardock started.
Mysidia sighed and rubbed the front of her forehead, feeling a headache come on along with the lecture soon to occur.
“We were just out riding.”, she started.
“Perhaps. When did it occur to you that a thunderstorm in midmorning would be an excellent idea, especially when there haven’t been any clouds around for two days?”, Mardock said raising an eyebrow.
"I got angry.”, Mysidia explained.
“I’m sure the Iksar at their temple would have loved to have heard that explanation.”, Mardock chided.
“Did you see what they were doing?!”, she said incredulously.
“Yes. I also know that it’s not your place, as a Druid, to interfere with matters such as that.”, Mardock said, pouring himself a mug of tea.
“Ugh!”, Mysidia exclaimed, frustrated. “Then who’s place? The Chosen? Why do I have to sit and wait for some magical being to come down and fix something that a simple lightning bolt could have solved?”
“And then what? You think crushing their altar would have stopped their religious practice completely?”, Mardock asked plainly.
Mysidia felt defeated. She didn’t have answers. She simply had rage for what she had witnessed. “It’s not right.”, she muttered.
“You have bigger issues to face right now.”, Mardock added, pretending he didn’t hear her little comment. Mysidia picked up her head and looked at him with the confused blank stare that most teenagers give their parents. “Joffrey is being brought before Bearsoul . Bearsoul is considering on postponing Joffrey’s Rite of Passage Ritual until the following spring because of that little display you did.”
Mysidia groaned. “Oh no…”, she said and dashed out of their hut. She ran as fast as she could towards the Chieftain’s home. She could barely make out the outline of Joffrey standing before Bearsoul’s throne.
“Ah, Mysidia. Your timing is impeccable.”, Bearsoul said with a glint of steel in his voice. Mysidia stopped and knelt before him.
“Please Great Chief, don’t do this…”, Mysidia started. Joffrey looked at her with fear behind his eyes.
“Is there something else you wish to add to this, Mysidia?” Bearsoul said giving her a hard look.

Mysidia and Joffrey were the same age and both were coming upon the age for their Rite of Passage. Joffrey wanted to be a Shaman and Mysidia was going to take her Druidic Rites. Both Rites were performed mid spring, during the full moon. If Mysidia had said anything then, she knew that her ceremony would be put off until the following year. She didn’t want to, but if she didn’t, Joffrey would take the fall. He was only there to make sure she didn’t get hurt.
Mysidia looked up at Joffrey and she watched him shake his head slowly, as if to tell her not to say anything. He mouthed “It’s alright.”
Mysidia shook her head. “No… no it’s not.”, she turned to Bearsoul, “Please don’t postpone Joffrey’s ceremony. It…it was my idea.”, she finished with her head sinking down.
“You are taking complete responsibility, then?”, Bearsoul asked.
Mysidia sighed. “Yes, Great Chief. Joffrey came along only to make sure that I didn’t get seriously hurt. I wanted to go beyond the borders. He even tried to talk me out of it.”
Bearsoul paused at the honesty of young Mysidia. He knew that the ceremony meant everything to her and knew what it took to say what she did.
“Very well.”, he said, “Joffrey, you may go.”
Joffrey wanted to say something to benefit his friend, but the steely gaze of Bearsoul quickly changed his mind. He bowed, backed away slowly and waited outside the door for Mysidia.
“Mysidia, come forward.”, Bearsoul said. Mysidia took in a deep breath and walked in front of Bearsoul with her head down. “You have deliberately disobeyed the law of this tribe. Those boundaries are placed and kept for everyone’s safety, and by breaking that law, you have placed everyone in danger.”
“You didn’t see what I had seen, Bearsoul. Innocent people were being sacrificed and…”, Mysidia began to stammer.
"I am NOT finished!”, Bearsoul yelled. Mysidia swallowed her words. “As punishment for your disobedience, you are here by kept at the rank of Adept until the following spring, when your Rites of Passage will be initiated.”
Mysidia’s heart sank. She knew someone would be taking the fall, but she had hoped that being truthful would have softened Bearsoul’s heart on the matter. She was wrong.
“Consider yourself lucky, child.”, he continued, “Anyone else, and banishment would have been the punishment.”
Mysidia looked up in stunned silence. Only until then had she realized the severity of her situation. She bowed in reverence to the Chieftain and backed away slowly to leave. Nothing she could have said or done would have changed his mind. She took her punishment in stride.

Joffrey turned to her as she left the hut. He heard every word Bearsoul said to her. His look was apologetic.
“Don’t.”, Mysidia said. “You deserve to move up in rank. My mistake shouldn’t cost you what you’ve worked so hard for.”
“You know what this means…”, he mentioned quietly.
She did. It meant that he would be leaving the Tribe the day after his ceremony, and back to Halas to be with his family. Joffrey only came to the Tribe to learn their Shamanistic ways and to continue the tradition in his family. Once his Rites have been given, off he went. Regardless, however, they were meant to part ways. She, however, didn’t know where she was meant to go. Mardock never gave her a straight answer.
She placed a hand on his arm. “You best head home. I have a feeling that Mardock isn’t done scolding me for this.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Mysidia laid in bed after several hours of scolding from Mardock. The world was quiet and the crickets chirped their evening sonata at the sleeping trees. Mysidia looked out her crudely cut window at the stars twinkling back their speckled light. The images of the sacrifices burned deep within her mind and it made it extremely difficult to get any sleep.
Mysidia tossed and turned, trying to push the images out of her mind. In order to make peace with the rage burning in her heart, she vowed that she would take out that altar…when the time was right…when she was strong enough. Right after her Rites of Passage….
Rage gave way to exhaustion and she finally fell asleep.