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#48 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
                
Azazor's logbook
Day after my arrival D+1

I finally was allowed to get my stuff back. They went through all my writings and those of Eeri. According to the Fyros, whose name I still don't have, I seem to them quite honest about my intentions. What is not the case of the homina who accompanies me. He wouldn't tell me more and I don't care. They can hang her, it's not my concern anymore.
So the Marauders agree to host me for a week in exchange for a job in the kitchen. I have had my Marauder armor confiscated and my weapons will be returned to me when I leave. So I put back on my Fyros armor. It's not so bad after all, even if I would have liked to bring back a Maraud' armor in the New Lands. The Fyros is waiting for the orders of his superiors to know if he should make me turn back or if they agree to let me continue my way to the Old Lands. 

D+2
I was able to talk to a Maraud' who works in the kitchen with me. He explained to me that The Citadel is not really a city such as one imagines it. It is in fact more of a fractured part of the great root ridge that surrounds the desert of the Old Lands and that forms a kind of maze. There are crevices everywhere that the Marauders travel on a regular basis. You should rather imagine an agglomeration of small temporary camps built and dismantled in response to the kitins moves. The Old Lands are literally teeming with kitins. The strategy for containing them is to let part of them enter the maze and get lost in it, for then kill them or get them out again. Forget about the idea of a big wall that the kitins would crash into. The constant battle of the Marauders against the kitins is mostly hide-and-seek. The Maraud' who told me this can't tell me much more than that, alas. The cult of secrecy is quite prevalent here, and people are suspicious of me. I understand them. We are also very suspicious of them in our land. It's only as a fair return. 

D+5
The Marauders agreed to accompany me to a first Citadel encampment in three days. From there, I will receive further instructions on how to move around The Citadel until I get out. They would not tell me more at this time. I was asked with a smile if I like climbing. I have a feeling I'm not going to like it...

D+6
One of the Marauds who had taken me into the cell on the first day came up to me today and threw a batch of papers on my bunk. He said that I should be interested, that these were Eeri's writings and that I could keep them because they had already made a copy. When I asked him about her fate, he couldn't answer me. But it seems that she won't be coming out any time soon. Too bad for her. All she had to do was listen to me and play it fair.
I started to read, and I have to admit, at least in writing, that I feel a little guilty for having been so tyrannical. The toub is secretive and has a major issue with trust, but her intentions were good. I should finish reading tonight.

D+8 

I joined a small convoy towards The Citadel and we left early this morning. The further we go, the more gigantic the ridge seems. Next to it, the cliffs of Scorched Corridor seem ridiculous. Will I really have to climb all this...? And... I saw Eeri. From a distance. Chained to a toub and well guarded. She is part of our convoy, in the back. Of course, I am forbidden to approach her. According to a Maraud', she is going to meet an important person of The Citadel and I don't have to know where. "Akilia?" I asked. He growled in answer. So not Akilia. And clearly, this one is not in odor of sanctity here either. We are told on and on in the New Lands of Akilia being the leader of the Marauders, but after what O'Tello said, and that growl, I begin to believe that here exist power struggles too, between the pro-Akilia and the others...


D+9
That's it, we arrived. During the last hours of walking, I did not dare to look at the top of the ridge, for fear of being nauseous. There, the winds were particularly violent, but we finally managed to sneak in a small notch to finally reach a first rough camp inside the cliff. The Marauders seemed to be used to this trip. According to one of them, most of the camps are troglodyte and temporary. There are a few permanent camps here and there that are extremely well hidden and defended, but almost all of them are shifting, depending on the movement of kitins and the tactics adopted to neutralize them. Again, these cliffs remind me of those of Scorched Corridor. A real maze of caves, canyons and crevasses. But so much bigger... We leave in one hour. The time to write this. 

As a result I know how I'm going to get to the Old Lands. By the top. I was told about climbing, this will be the case. From a place in the Citadel, I will be able to use a set of ropes, ladders and other footbridges to climb up the ridge. Once at the top, I was advised, if I want to join Coriolis, to follow more or less the edge of the cliff, depending on the presence of kitins. They are less numerous at the top, but still present. So, it will probably be necessary to make some detours. But I will have not to go down under any circumstances. They told me that anyway, once I'm up there, I'll understand why. 

Zuletzt geändert von Fyrenor (vor 2 Jahren)

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fyros pure sève
akash i orak, talen i rechten!
élucubrations
biographie

#49 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
                
Time also seemed to be hanging. Regularly, like a clock that came ostensibly to remind her of the passing of time, a drop of sweat detached itself from her forehead to come to crash a few centimeters lower in the sawdust. The half-light of the place could almost have made the atmosphere bearable, but in addition to the heat that reigned there, the sawdust dust forced the homina to keep her breathing as light and as slow as possible.

So far, they hadn't hit her. At Sentinel, they had left her for several days in a room, deprived of everything but a bowl of water and a kind of unspiced bread that made her bitterly miss Eolinius'. A homin (was he always the same one?) would come and ask her questions. She usually didn't answer, except with a yes or no. She had asked to speak to the leader of the Horizon Surveyors. Sometimes he spoke to her in Marund, a language she didn't know at all, to test her reactions, without much success. "Where does this crystal come from? What Clan are you from?". She had lost track of time. But no matter.

So Azazor had done nothing to help her case. He must have said that Eeri had stolen the crystal, that she was working for some clan… He must have said that she had lied to him. That was enough to make the Marauders suspicious of her.

Then they'd made her walk from Sentinel to The Citadel, tied behind a mektoub, hands and feet chained, not far from a free-handed Azazor who didn't even deny her a glance. It was a much crueler torment. Two days of walking in silence. One of the Marauders had made it clear: "You try to talk to your Fyros, I'll feed you to the varinxes."
She was taken there, in that cell, and they tied her by the feet. The head downwards. To test her nerves, one of the guards had said with a sneer. Eeri let them do it, without struggling. They left her there, in the heat and dust, for several hours, or days, which seemed like an eternity. Everything was already so confused in her mind, and hanging upside down did not help her to think. She now doubted why she was there. Where she came from. Who she was fighting for. The Federation? The Empire? The Trytonists? The Rangers? The Marauders? Or a little of everything? Or just for herself? She didn't know what to answer.

***

"She must be ready."
"If she has not sniff it yet…"

Two guards arrived, and cut the tie that bound her feet. She fell limply on the ground, head first. Then the two homins grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her out of the cell. They were clad in heavy Maraudeur armor relatively similar to that of the New Lands, except for a few details.

"She's still alive."
"Bring her to me," said a third.

Then, approaching Eeri's ear, he whispered with a thick accent:

"And you'd better answer the questions we're going to ask you, if you don't want to end your trip here… Definitely. Be reasonable."

Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren) | Grund: English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#50 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | [Français]
Eeri, encore vaseuse après des heures suspendue, n'eut d'autre choix que de suivre les deux gardes sans broncher. Elle fut alors trainée à travers un labyrinthe de petits couloirs, étroits, taillés dans le bois. Après une dizaine de minutes de marche, elle aperçut finalement la lumière de jour, au bout d'un couloir. Une sortie vers l'extérieur. Juste avant d'emprunter le passage, l'un des gardes jeta un coup d’œil dehors puis fit signe à son compagnon de s'arrêter. Quelques secondes plus tard, un bourdonnement s'éleva au loin dans le canyon. Il était composé d'un étrange son strident, qu'Eeri n'avait jamais entendu, et d'une multitude de cliquetis accompagnés d'un bruit de galopade, dont elle connaissait cette-fois ci très bien l'origine : les kitins. Le bruit strident augmenta en intensité et une forme fuselée passa à toute vitesse devant l'entaille dans laquelle les trois homins attendaient, soulevant au passage un nuage de poussière. Un engin appartenant aux Maraudeurs ? Probablement. Ou Karavan? Et à ses trousses, une trentaine de kitins, tous plus gros les uns que les autres... Les deux gardes attendirent une bonne minute que le canyon retrouve son calme, puis poussèrent la prisonnière en avant. Eeri put alors apercevoir des carcasses de kitins, abandonnées ici et là tout du long du gigantesque canyon. Il lui intimèrent l'ordre d'avancer, alors qu'ils prenaient eux-même la direction d'une autre entaille située sur la falaise opposée du canyon. Elle les suivit sans tarder : il ne fallait définitivement pas trainer dans cet endroit.

Les deux homins et leur prisonnière eurent encore à marcher une bonne vingtaine de minutes, traversant quelques labyrinthes de couloirs et petites salles, avant d'arriver dans une salle plus large et lumineuse, éclairée par quelques torches. Jusqu'alors, toutes les salles qu'ils avaient traversées ne semblaient qu'être des point de passage, celle-ci était légèrement décorée. Les deux gardes la firent assoir à genoux, et se positionnèrent derrière elle. Eeri eut à peine le temps d'observer les quelques meubles du lieu, elle remarqua un petit groupe d'homins de l'autre coté de la pièce.

— Voilà l’espionne, dit l'un des gardes.
— A t’elle parlé jusque là ?
— Non.
— Alors que voulez-vous que j’en fasse?
— Interrogeons-la, dit une troisième voix. Si elle persiste à ne rien dire, alors on avisera.

Les quelques homins, tous vêtus d'amures maraudeurs légères, moyennes et lourdes, s’approchèrent d’Eeri, et se positionnèrent en arc de cercle, face à elle. L’homine qui parla, au centre, était couverte d’un grand manteau noir qui dissimulait son visage et recouvrait une armure elle aussi noire. Au son étouffé de sa voix et son accent, Eeri ne put distinguer s’il s’agissait d’une fyros, d'une matisse ou d’une zoraie. Mais elle était définitivement trop grande pour être tryker.

— Nous t’écoutons, fit-elle.
— Je ne suis pas une espionne, déclara sèchement Eeri.
— Et encore?
— Quoi que je dise, Azazor m’a vendue. Il s’est servi de moi pour obtenir votre confiance. Il veut continuer seul. Il n’a plus besoin de moi.
— Nous l’avons écouté, et ses raisons sont respectables. Mais il n’a pas parlé contre toi. As-tu quelque chose de différent à nous apprendre sur lui?

Eeri fit non de la tête.

— Il dit la vérité. Sa vérité.
— Bien. Pour l'instant, nous le croyons.
— Vous pouvez. C’est moi qui me suis trompée sur vous.
— Comment ça?
— J’ai pensé que ce cristal pouvait m’aider.

Un homin s’avança pour prendre la parole, mais l'homine l’arrêta d’un signe de la main autoritaire, et continua.

— Chez nous, voler un cristal est un crime. Si tu l’as obtenu régulièrement, tu dois faire partie d’un clan. Lequel?
— Aucun.
— Alors comment?

Devant le silence d’Eeri, elle dit d’un ton menaçant

— Continuer de nous mentir plus ne t’aidera pas. La vérité sera beaucoup plus utile, avant que l’on te condamne.
— Je viens de la Fédération. Avant ça, j’ai combattu et appris auprès des Rangers, et passé ma jeunesse dans le Désert à servir l’Empire Fyros. J’ai rejoint les Maraudeurs des Nouvelles Terres sous couvert, avant d’entreprendre ce voyage, pour obtenir un cristal. Je n’ai jamais été maraudeuse.
— Nous avons lu ton journal, nous savons tout ça.
— Alors vous savez aussi que je suis une chercheuse d'Elias, et que mon but ici n’est pas de vous infiltrer ou de vous nuire.

L’homine ricana :

— Une Trytoniste… Tu n’as rien trouvé de mieux?
— Parler de la sorte me couterait la vie dans les Nouvelles Terres. J’ai passé ma vie à cacher mes convictions, même à mes proches. Ici aussi? Vous me décevez.
— Admettons. Et ce Maze'yum? Nous avons bien entendu parler de lui.
— Il m’a confié la mission de remettre des carnets à son ancien clan. Les Arpenteurs d’horizons.
— Nous savons ça.

L'homine se tourna, et un tryker prit la parole :

— Oui, nous avons reçu ces carnets. Un ramassis d’histoires obscènes sans aucun intérêt…
— Vous ne savez donc pas lire entre les lignes, coupa la fyrette en grognant? Des années de recherches…

Le tryker sourit, un peu surprit.

— Bien sur que si. Nous y travaillons. Tu sais donc ce que ces livres contiennent?
— J’ai fait des recherches avec Maze’Yum. Ce qui m’a déjà valu beaucoup de problèmes. J’ai lu et étudié ces carnets.
— Ce n’est pas un nom que je porte dans mon coeur, continua le Tryker en s’adressant cette fois à la maraudeuse. Mais il a fait récemment parler de lui dans les Nouvelles Terres, et ses recherches semblent somme toute dignes d'intêret. Tout comme la bombe à goo que nous avons trouvé dans ses affaires.

À ces mots, le groupe s’agita chaotiquement, chacun se mit à chuchoter à son voisin. Après quelques secondes, l'homine les arrêta d’un signe de la main.

— Donc nous avons là une scientifique en quête de vérité. Vous croyez à ça?
— Je ne pense pas que Maze’Yum serait assez fou pour confier ses carnets à n'importe qui. Surtout à un espion de la cendrée, annonça le tryker.
— Ce n’est donc pas vous, Akilia, Tempête de Cendre, demanda Eeri?
— Tais-toi, cria-t-elle avant de faire signe au groupe autour d’elle de se reculer de quelques pas pour échanger quelques messes basses.

— Et puis ramenez la dans sa cellule. Je n’ai plus besoin d’elle.






Note HRP :
Ces textes sont en cours de traduction vers l'Anglais, grace à notre cher ami Nilstilar Thorec. Un grand merci !
J'en profite aussi pour remercier de nouveau les homins de l'ombre qui se cachent derrière l'écriture de ce voyage, spécialement Finaen, mais aussi Drumel et Pavor, de l'équipe lore. Ils nous guident dans la découverte des Anciennes Terres, relisent, imaginent et commentent nos différentes étapes.
En passant : les notes que nos personnages écrivent dans leurs journaux ne sont pas toutes écrites ou publiées. Pour avoir leur teneur, il faut s'inspirer des textes narratifs.

OOC note :
These texts are being translated to english, thanks to our friend Nilstilar Thorec. A very big thank you !
I also take this opportunity to thank again the shadow homins who are behind the writing of this journey, especially Finaen, but also Drumel and Pavor, from the lore team. They guide us in the discovery of the Old Lands, reread, imagine and comment our different steps.
By the way: not all the notes our characters write in their journals are written or published. The content of these notes is inspired by the narrative texts.

2 mal geändert | Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren) | Grund: English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#51 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
      
"Freedom," said the man in a low voice.

Eeri opened his eyes wide in the direction of the helmeted figure who had just slipped into the doorway. It was night. The guards had left her tied hand and foot, in a sitting position.

"I am Rapid Arma. You can call me Arid."
"Rebel Ocyx," the fyrette replied, emerging from her half-sleep without much thought.
"We know."
"Freedom," she repeated, incredulous.

The homin undertook to untie Eeri, while she recovered her spirits, still drowsy.

"They want to kill me, right?"
"No, but they're planning to keep you here a long time. It's the same thing. Sometimes we change places in a hurry, and some prisoners may be forgotten."
"And it's that easy to escape?"
"No. But we think there are no other spies in The Citadel at the moment. The guard has relaxed a bit, luckily."
"Spies from whom?"
"Of those who seek to harm Marauders of The Citadel."

The homin, who in the meantime had untied the Fyrossa's bonds, beckoned her to silence and follow him. As he closed the door of the cell, he picked up a bag lying there.

"What's left of your stuff… I'll give you another armor, this one will be too flashy."
" … akep."
"Your companion is free, certainly much more carefully watched than you. He leaves tomorrow for a climb up the ridge."
"I must join him…"
"First, follow me. You need a meal, and sleep."

Eeri followed the homin through a multitude of labyrinthine tunnels, and sometimes paths in the open air. When they heard Marauders nearby, they stopped and waited, wanting to avoid running into them and having to converse. After a good hour of walking, the homin announced that they had arrived. He pushed open a slightly hidden door at the end of a tunnel and the two of them entered a dimly lit room furnished with a table and a bed. The homin laid down the bag containing Eeri's belongings.

"Here you are in one of the lairs of the Seekers of Elias of The Citadel."
"So here too, one must hide?"

The homin took off his helmet and smiled.

"When one has secretly freed a prisoner, one avoids taking her to the tavern."

A Matis. Not very tall, in the prime of life, hair a deep black, piercing gaze. He indicated the table a little further, on which were already some dishes, and invited him to sit down.

"I'll be right back," he said. "I'll get you a drink."

A few minutes later, he returned, a mug of shookie in hand. The incredulous expression of the Fyrossa, when he put the tankard in front of her, provoked a satisfied smile from the Matis.

"I well recall that Ocyx Rebel was a great lover of shookie."
"You… know me?"

Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren) | Grund: English translation by Nilstilar !

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#52 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
               
The Matis took a seat on the other side of the table, pouring himself a glass of something that looked, from a distance, like wine. He took a mouthful and clicked his tongue on the palate.

"Eat, first."

Eeri did not need persuading. She took a large handful of dried meat, which she swallowed as dry as a gulp of shookie. The Matis' gaze rested for a moment on the vault of the cave, then he spoke again.

"I know you, without knowing you. And I owe you some explaining. Trytonists are tolerated here. It all depends on the Clans, we'll say. In any case, we are first and foremost Marauders, but we don't forget our convictions. Many of us come from the New Lands, some of us have always lived here. I knew you when you were just a young recruit. I remember the meeting we had, before we recruited you. You know how it is, the old guys always know who they're recruiting, and the young guys don't know the old guys who recruit them. But I've been gone for about twenty Jena years already."

Eeri listens to the Matis, gaping.

"... after the death of our leader. Scarlet Ocyx."
"Lopy..."
"Lopy, yes... It looked very bad for us then. The Fyros Empire had been chopping off heads, while before the Desert was still a safe place... His death was a sign that the Karavan had found his trail, and dared to act in the Empire's territory."
"Many thought that came from the Kingdom.
"The Kingdom and the Matis subjects are crazy, but not that crazy. They wouldn't have gone to such lengths out of simple revenge. Such a sudden death can only come from one of the Powers. A few of us elders decided to leave the New Lands after joining the Marauders. We thought we would find more answers."

Eeri puts down her tankard and the food she held in hand.

"I'm sorry," continues Arid. You probably didn't expect to hear about this here. I know you knew him well."
"I had a child by him... born after he disappeared... I was afraid, so I hid her. Well... I entrusted her, but the homina who was supposed to take care of her disappeared. I was afraid."
"It has been a major upheval for many of us."

After a few minutes of talking, Arid stood up and put down his glass of wine.

"Now try to eat and rest."
"Is this place safe?" Eeri asked.
"Yes. We have taken up our old habit of making hiding places here. It's also convenient, because of the kitins. There are many caves in The Citadel. If the Regent sends her goon to search for us, it will take them two days to rummage through it all."
"Who is?"
"The Regent. She runs The Citadel and helps the clans organize against the kitins."
"So she's the leader of the Marauders?"
"No, the Marauders have no leaders."
"I thought so, yes. Maybe she's the one who questioned me... Anyway. akep. Really."
"Don't thank me too quickly. I had to knock out and tie up one of the guards to free you. That means they'll be looking for you, as soon as they figure it out. Hopefully once your companion has departed."
"So they're letting him take the road to Coriolis?"
"Yes. Through the top of the ridge."
"They'll no doubt think I won't follow him. We are in angry at each other. But I will follow him."
"If that's what you want, you'll probably have little respite after he leaves. Anyway, in your case, staying at The Citadel would be suicide. Tomorrow morning I'll bring you another suit of armor, so you'll be more inconspicuous. Now I'm to leave you and join my clan, before my absence looks suspicious. Be ready at dawn."

2 mal geändert | Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren)

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#53 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
               
Azazor finishes crossing the rope bridge that connects two cliffs of the great ridge. A very rudimentary bridge. A rope at the top to hold on to and a rope at the bottom to put his feet on. Obviously, impossible to cross with a mektoub.

Carrying all his stuff on his back since his departure from The Citadel, the climb was a hell. Between stairs carved in the bark, ladders most of them extremely worn, ropes to pull oneself up with the strength of arms and legs, and now this izam bridge as they call it, because many izams like to perch there. Yes, he knew it was going to be hard, but not that hard. He hadn't had this much trouble since crossing the Verdant Continent, when he had to climb big roots with the mektoubs. Such a crossing would be for him so easy today… That time seems to him so distant. He was still with Eeri then, he was still trusting her...

He sits down for a moment to catch his breath. No kitins on the horizon, unlike yesterday when he had to wait several hours because a group of kirosta were blocking the road. He had taken the opportunity to study them in the distance. They didn't seem to be very different from those that one can meet in the desert, except by their size: all of them were at least as big as Nymton. So he had not tried to confront them as he could have done in the New Lands. Who knows how fast they could run and especially how much damage their blows could make. And maybe their poison was more powerful. He should have asked the Marauders before leaving them. In any case, they didn't fit the description of the Flamboyants he had been given. They must have been classic kitins, just a little bigger and more dangerous, like almost all the animals here...

Opening his bag to take out something to eat—some dried varinx meat—he finds Eeri's notebook that he had brought with him. He flips through it mechanically while chewing his meat without pleasure. Then he puts the book down, picks up his own journal and begins to write.

Azazor's logbook
I've been climbing for hours. Now that I can finally settle down, I have to go back to that evening spent with the Marauders, the last one before my climb. It was a shock, one can say so. The group I had accompanied until then had to settle in one of these semi-permanent camps I had been told about. I was invited to share a meal and to sleep there before my departure the next day.

We had gathered in a kind of particularly gigantic cave to which one reached after having followed many tunnels dug in the cliff. The entry in the cave was through a narrow tunnel after the climbing of a tumulus blocking the entry. It was explained to me that the entrance was once much larger, but a landslide had been deliberately set off to block the entrance during an epic battle against the kitins. It was while telling me about this battle that I heard for the second time, after Barmie Dingle, about the Flamings. Contrary to what I had believed, not all Flamings were kitins of the kipesta species. In fact, this name "Flamings" is given to the whole new generation of red kitins that appeared in the desert, and it is the term "red dragons" that specifically designates the kipestas among Flamings, for their fire is particularly destructive and their abdomen bristled with spines. During the said battle, many Marauders had perished trying to defend the entrance to the cave where many of them had taken refuge. Since then, the cave has become a symbol for many. The Flamings had continued to multiply, making access to the desert almost inaccessible. The Marauders said that the Karavan was hunting them down and targeting them first.

Inside the cave was a huge camp, visibly less rustic than the previous ones. There was a sort of infirmary in a tent, a kitchen area stocked with enough food to feed an entire regiment, a stable full of mektoubs, hundreds of beds dug into the walls and even some sort of tubs filled with water for washing. Here and there, a few devices and tools reminded me that the Marauders had mastered a rather advanced technology, linked in some way to the Powers.

High on the walls, one could see several holes connected by walkways. There must have been other rooms behind the walls and on several floors. It was a real miniature city, lit by the glowing of gigantic braziers. One of the Marauds of the company, probably a little too talkative, explained to me that there was also an armory, laboratories and a library somewhere, hidden in this maze of tunnels connecting them to the cave, which served as the main reception hall.

But what surprised me the most were the children. Until then I had imagined The Citadel as a huge battlefield, and yet here I found children, old people, a whole bunch of homins that I had not expected to find here.

Finally, I understood that this cave was used as a resting place, but also as a research area and a place to fall back in case of massive attacks, as it happened sometimes. These few spaces were in fact the only stable areas of The Citadel. The nerve centers of this movable city, reconfigured with defeats and victories. However, there was no guarantee that the kitins would not succeed in taking these places, as had already occurred a few times. Everything was designed to be easily moved, as evidenced by the shape of the furniture and the many mektoubs equipped as if they were on departure.

The evening was enriching, especially on a cultural level. As I watched them laughing with their loved ones, talking about their last day, helping each other with daily duties, playing music and dancing, I realized that these Marauders did not fit our idea of them. Their ability to create moments of life for themselves, while a few dozen kilometers to the east, a gigantic swarm of kitins threatened to swoop on the Oflovak Road, generated in me confused emotions. Respect, but also a strange sense of pride. As I watched these Marauders, I remembered that the first of them were Fyros. Fyros who decided not to flee from the kitins, but to fight to keep their homes, and who were still fighting today. I even felt some anger at the Empire of the time of Cerakos II, which had abandoned its people to flee from the kitins.

To my surprise, that evening, many of them shared moments with me. Their friendliness surprised me. Of course, they considered me as a stranger, and kindly told me not to insist, when I asked them about their links with the Powers and if I could consult the books in the library... For the rest, they seemed happy to share this evening with someone coming from so far away, and asked me a number of questions. Especially since this time the stranger was not a Ranger! I was a stranger among strangers. I also believe that they respected me very much for undertaking such a dangerous journey to carry out my research. As in Fyros society, Courage, Honor and Truth were strong concepts in Marauder society.

Yet, several hundred kilometers to the west, Akilia was waging a dirty war against the nations of the New Lands, not hesitating to recruit criminals and commit terrorist acts. Why such a difference? I dared to ask the question to one of my hosts who expressly ordered me, in a low voice, to change the subject. A Fyros who was passing by our group at that moment heard my question and launched into a violent monologue defending Akilia's policy. Then, raising his head towards a footbridge above him, he turned around and walked away while mumbling. I raised my head and saw that some guards had stopped up there to watch us. So, from what I could see, at The Citadel pro- and anti-Akilia people stand alongside. Though, probably, many don't take sides. Like my hosts who, visibly uncomfortable, hastened to change subject.

A Tryker told me later, under the tone of confidence, that if the pro Akilia were present in minority in The Citadel, and frawned upon by many—because suspected of fomenting conspiracies—they were nevertheless admitted in these places. First, because many of them were members of the oldest clans, from the Melkiar era, and were among the most powerful and feared Marauders. Second, because conflicts between the various clans had always been commonplace, and it was implicitly understood that no dissension should ever endanger Marauder society. Thirdly, because The Citadel was the home of all Marauders, and to be permanently banished from it was the heaviest punishment of all... The Tryker added, however, that what was most important, and what everyone agreed on, was the fight for survival and against the kitins. To imagine that the Marauder society owes its cohesion, and thus its existence, to the presence of a monstrous swarm at the gates of The Citadel, seemed sadly ironic...

Finally, I ended my evening by telling some children the History of the Cult of the Great Dragon. It was a real delight to see their eyes both amazed and terrified at the adventures of Liriope. I never thought I would find children here, so close to danger. I thought they would all be in Sentinel, but that was a mistake. The Citadel was the heart of the Marauder people, the place where life was beating. And when I saw these Marauders children, I thought of my own...

Uzykos...

He drops his arma thorn and puts down his logbook, suddenly worried.

So he has a son. A Fyros. A redhead. A real one. And there he is, thousands of miles away from him. This time, he can't blame Eeri for keeping that from him. What would he have done if he had known before leaving? He couldn't have brought himself to abandon him, and yet... Yet... At least the lack of thatinformation had come in handy. Eeri was right on this point. Not every Truth is right to be told.. At least at the moment, she could have added.

Of course, he has qualms about having left her in the hands of the Marauders. But what could he do? She had lied to them, she hadn't play fair. There was nothing he could do about it. And it wasn't for lack of him warning her.

His mind escapes towards the horizon. From where he is, he cannot perceive the desert of his ancestors. He still has many cliffs to cross before he finds himself at the top of the ridge and hopes to see what lies beyond. But already, he begins to feel something. Like a sort of nagging call, Fyros voices flying in the wind... voices that are more and more real. Which call to him, Azazor!

Turning around, he sees Eeri at the izam bridge, closely followed by three Marauders obviously in pursuit.

- Aza, pass me your axe!
- My axe ? Wh…

His gaze rests on his axe, his faithful "Courtesy", the only weapon with his hatchet "Politeness" that he has brought on this insane journey. In a daze, he takes the big axe with both hands and approaches the izam bridge while Eeri is still halfway. One of the guards starts to step on the bridge while the others yell at Eeri to stop if she wants to live. Azazor raises his axe above him, ready to strike as soon as Eeri is within reach. He's so close to his goal that there's no way she's going to ruin all up. Eeri gives him a frightened look but continues to advance on the bridge, swinging at the same time to make fall the guard who clings on and shouts even more to the homina. Arrived near Azazor, she throws herself behind him in a roll. This one then crushes his axe... on the ropes of the bridge which breaks, making fall the guard still hung in front of the exorbitant eyes of the two others who waited on the other end of the bridge. The two adventurers don't take the time to translate the insults shouted in Marund. Azazor hurriedly picks up his stuff before leaving on a fast walk towards the next part of the itinerary while Eeri stands up incredulous and follows the Fyros without a word.

After one hour of walking with no word exchanged it is Eeri who decides to break the silence.

"akep! I thought you were going to..."
"I was going to do it. Don't you dare believe otherwise."
"But you didn't."
"dey."
"And you cut the ropes of the bridge! Why?"
"I need you still," he says with a growl.

He then throws one of his two bags to the ground. Eeri picks up the bag, smiling. Azazor's grunt bodes well. She has gotten to know him over the years. It's when he doesn't growl that you have to worry. They will need a few more days to finish their climb and reach the plateau of the ridge. From there, they will head east to reach the edge and follow it.

Zuletzt geändert von Azazor (vor 2 Jahren)

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fyros pure sève
akash i orak, talen i rechten!
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#54 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
               
Eeri's logbook

Azazor gave me back my logbook. And saved me.
This isn't the first time I've written this, but I had given up hope of writing here again. And once again, we made it through. You have to believe that something is watching over my old skin. A Power? Or just plain luck. Just like when you spin the wheel of good old Brotherhood of the always more Fortunate Gubani.

So the Marauders gave him back my writings. That is to say that they trusted him. Not like they did with me. And because of me, we find ourselves like fugitives, on top of this mountain.

He no doubt read.

But I'm going to rewrite from the beginning, from when we arrived at Sentinel.
We were stopped by the Marauders, numerous and heavily armed. Separated, deprived of our belongings. It seems to me that they treated Azazor better than me very quickly... And they asked me stupid questions. What clan I belong to. Then I realized that my crystal was a problem. What I am doing here. I thought I could play the smartest with them. But I was not able to get any information about the Horizon Surveyors clan. As a result, they transferred me to The Citadel, tied up, with the convoy that was taking Azazor away. As for him untied and free. When I got over there, they hung me up by my feet in a broom closet. If I'd had an axe at hand, I'd have made you a Marauder's mash... upside down, I don't know how long. A few hours, a few days? They finally took me away to be questioned by several Marauders. Probably high-ranking, maybe even the homina who runs the Citadel, the Regent, as they call her. But I wondered why they were so interested in my case. It seems that the Marauders are spying on each other, and the clans are stabbing each other in the back to gain some power, to make their opinions known. Maybe they thought I was one of those spies. There, with them, I played it straight, and told the whole truth. I will never know if it worked, if they would have released me or killed me. From what I understood later, I would probably have been left in a cell until I starved to death, the Marauders having other kitins to worry about.

And it actually happened what I didn't expect, but then not at all...
I thought maybe Azazor, having arranged things for me, would show up with guards to free me before I set off again. Chained as I was, I saw no other possible way out. But it was Arid who arrived. A helmeted homin, alone. I understood later that he had not acted alone, but I have not had no contact with anyone else. He knocked out a guard, opened the door, freed me. I could have fallen in love, if he was not a Matis, and not so young. But I was not at the end of my surprises. He told me he knew my name, my taste for shookie—he even offered me one. I didn't even have the presence of mind to ask where it came from, but I understood that it was something rather rare in The Citadel. It's quite conceivable that this skill has come back from the New Lands, and that they produce some of it, somewhere in a camp in the Scaterred Desert.

Arid, Rapid Arma, Marauder and Seeker of Elias, exiled in the Old Lands for some twenty Jena years. He showed me his face, something Trytonists normally don't do back in New Lands. He didn't tell me his real name, and I wouldn't have asked anyway. So he knew me when I was a young legionnary who had doubts and had just turned his back on the Kamis. He especially knew Lopyrèch... Icus, my mentor, my friend. The one who made me a seeker of truth, the one who made me open my eyes to so many mysteries, to all that the Powers hide from us... The only other Fyros, with Azazor, to whom I gave myself up... Once, thanks to alcohol. One more thing I didn't tell to almost anyone, here... And ramèch, this is the result. A Fyrossa who abandons her kids and lies like she breathes. Lopy... If you were still alive, you'd slap me a lot worse than Azazor wants to slap me every day. And you'd be right. Or you would just tell me to hide the truth more intelligently... I realize that if it was useful in the New Lands, where the Powers are hunting us down, where we make such a fuss about the insipid power games between nations, it is something totally stupid and useless here, in the absence of the Powers and the political powers. But when I think about what I can answer to a question, only the most improbable and untruthful option comes out of my mouth... I have to change that.

So I owe my freedom to this Matis. He even took the time to get my belongings, and to provide me with another blue Marauder armor. The one I had on when I arrived would have attracted too much attention. He gave me a pike and a shield, in addition to my hatchet and my amplifiers that he had been able to recover. A pike! The only weapon effective against some kitins. I'd broken the last one in I don't know what fight. Food, enough to last a few days. He didn't ask for anything in exchange, I couldn't have offered him much. Except to keep alive the belief of a freed hominity. We left in the early morning from the cache where he had brought me and resumed this game of hide-and-seek with kitins' and Marauders' patrols. I didn't expect this from The Citadel. It's not a city, it's a battlefield, where a constant war with the kitins is going on. The Marauders here are almost like the Rangers back home, minus the "I love everybody" aspect. Here, it's sink or swim, it's the door that holds the next swarming of hell behind the mountains. Well, I shouldn't exaggerate either. He also told me that The Citadel is full of places to live: inns, schools, training facilities, armories... They live here, but everything has been designed over time to be moved around easily and to stay safe from the Kitins. I wasn't offered a tour, I replied, laughing.

Before leaving, he also told me about his journey to get here. About the same as we did, but with a larger group with quite disparate origins. This did not prevent him from seeing several of his companions fall, especially during the crossing of the Sea of Wood. When he arrived, the former Subject of the Kingdom that he was had to serve several years at the Cloudy Cliff Outpost before he could be considered trustworthy and allowed to join their ranks. After that, he was finally able to join The Citadel. Some of his companions are still here, some, especially the older ones at the time, remained on the island of Oflovak.

I also learned something very interesting. I had understood that Marauders use Karavan items, looted from abandoned cruisers for example, to power their own technology. How, that remains to be seen, but the contact I had with them is not going to help me find out more. On the other hand, what I didn't know is that the Karavan is still present in the area, in some way. Not much on the ground, but mostly in the sky. Arid explained to me that sometimes Karavan ships attack the kitins. They call it a "strike" here. Powerful spells, sent from their ships, presumably above the Canopy. Probably when the kitins are too concentrated in one place, sometimes right outside the gates of The Citadel. Or, more often, directed against certain specimens in particular, those famous flaming ones we had heard about.

No Kami in the area, on the other hand, Arid told me. At least, not that he knows of. It is said that in the time of Melkiar, some clan leaders had contact with them, but it has become almost a legend nowadays. Not this surprises me, in fact it confirms a lot of old theories. But that the Karavan, along with the Marauders, is still trying to contain the kitins is astonishing information. He told me that Karavan agents are sometimes seen at The Citadel, during important meetings, usually reserved for clan leaders. No one knows, except for these clan leaders, whether these ambassadors remain permanently at The Citadel. He also let me know, without wanting to say more, that the technology of the Marauders was partly linked to that of the Karavan.

So I asked... If the Karavan wasn't here, would the Marauders be able to hold the kitins back? Do they really work together? It seemed to me that his vision of the Karavan was no longer the one we Seekers of Elias might have in the New Lands. But Arid couldn't really tell me much more than that, as we were already late for be present at Azazor's departure.

Then something probably went wrong. His plan was to follow Azazor's convoy, and give him a few hours head start. As Arid had planned, the guards who had accompanied Azazor to that steep path had stayed there for a while after the Fyros had left, and when he was no longer in sight, they scattered into the crevices of the canyon. After a few seconds, from the watching point where Arid and I were positioned, it was impossible to detect the presence of a single homin. The Matis seemed tense. We waited again, and then he showed me the way, telling me that he was going to follow me at a distance. Being careful not to let anyone see me. "If anything goes wrong for me, hide, and let me handle it. We'll only get through this if I'm not seen with you. If you're spotted...run. I'll see what I can do." I asked him to leave from now, to teleport if he could. He had taken enough risks. He nodded without really saying what he was going to do. I hope he didn't get in trouble. Then after thanking him one last time, I headed off in the direction he had pointed me.

After a few minutes, just as I was about to cross a relatively uncovered area, a hubbub began to be heard, similar to the one caused by the swarm of kitins I had crossed a few days earlier. I hid as best I could in a crevice of sawdust, and waited a good while, trying not to panic, for the commotion to pass. It lasted, and I got lost in my thoughts... What if my release compromised the safety of the Trytonists of The Citadel? What if, because of me, attention was focused on them, to the point that they were incriminated? When I came out of my thoughts, the noise had stopped.

As I emerged from my hiding place, despite my cautions, I came face to face with a Marauder, alone, and armed with a spear. My clan, what am I doing here? I didn't lie, and told him I was hiding from the kitins, picking up my spear and pretending to put it back on my back. With a quick movement, I stuck it under his helmet, right into his neck. A sharp, fatal blow, for a homin who wasn't expecting it. "With Akilia's regards." I said while striking, without really thinking. His body dematerialized. Toub de toub... At the time, I had found nothing better to divert their attention. If they think that I am a spy of the Ashes Clan, they will perhaps forget about the Trytonists.

It took me several hours of climbing before I could see Azazor from a distance. The damn guy is doing pretty well, I must say. He's in much better shape than at the beginning of our trip. I stayed at a distance, so he wouldn't see me. Not yet. I had to give him a day or two head start. Luckily, he seemed not to look back. When he set up camp for the night, I tried to sleep on the sawdust in a crevice of the cliff, thinking about how to get in front of him.. What could I say to him... To play it down, now that The Citadel was behind us, I thought... "Aza! 'ren pyr, how's the climbing going? Hey, it's invigorating here. Shall we throw down knocks to each other now or save that for later?"

I guess I always succeed in my arrivals. The next day, he took a break after his hazardous crossing on a rope bridge. I waited on the other side until he wanted to resume his walking, again to give him a head start. It was then that I realized, by chance because I was trying to hide from him, that some Marauders, below, were climbing up pursuing me. They had seen me, and were hoping to get to me noiselessly. I had no chance to hide from neither one nor the others. Fighting was not a good idea, so I dashed across the bridge with my stuff on my back. Azazor was surprised, I thought he was going to send me into the chasm. But he waited for me to cross, then gave a great blow with his axe on the bridge ropes to cut it.

He no doubt read.

Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren) | Grund: English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#55 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
               
The two adventurers have finally reached the very top of the ridge. As they make their way to the edge of the plateau to the east, Eeri sighs. It bothers her to bring up the matter again, but it's time to clear the air.

"Well, you can confess it to me now, you read my logbook?"

Azazor grunts but finally answers "Yes" in his beard. He hasn't trimmed it since their arrest by the Marauders, giving him the look of a bit enlightened hermit.

"So you know about… Uzykos?"

Eeri takes care to weigh his words, expecting at any moment a fit of anger as the fat Fyros is used to. However, his answer is particularly controlled, which is worrying.

"ney, I know."
"Does this have anything to do with the fact that you cut those damn ropes on the izam bridge?"

The Fyros does not answer, continuing his walk towards the east. Eeri prefers not to insist. She already knows one thing, he has read her notes. And it's not so bad after all.

An hour later, Azazor stops. Eeri thinks that he will finally tell her more. Instead of that, he resumes his walk, but slowly, and ends up freezing after about twenty meters. Eeri rejoins him cautiously, not knowing too much what to expect. The vision which is offered to her is quite simply monstrous. From where they are, they can finally see the ground below. A red and teeming ground. A few more hundred meters, and they are at the edge of the cliff. At the bottom, the soil can hardly be distinguished. It is literally covered with kitins. Some areas are denser with kitins than others, but wherever they look, everything is just a creeping invasion.

Azazor turns his gaze to the Fyrossa. Fear can be read all over his face. Fear but also… excitement. For what they see below is also the land of their ancestors. They have finally arrived. They see for the first time what few homins of the New Lands have ever seen: the ancient land of the Fyros.

They sit there for a good hour, their legs dangling in the void, gazing at the landscape that reminds them of the Imperial Dunes, with a tide of red kitins added. When Azazor finally speaks up.

"Eeri? "

She looks up from the swarming tide of kitins.

"Well, what?"
"Yes, I helped you with the Marauds' who were chasing you because of Uzykos. I don't want him to grow up like me without knowing his mother."

He points a threatening finger at Eeri.

"So you damn well better survive."

The homina smiles and nods.

"Anyway, I warn you, if you don't survive, I'll kill you!"

At these words, he bursts out laughing, followed immediately by Eeri. Down below, the kitins continue to teem, occupying the lands that were once those of the Fyros.

Zuletzt geändert von Azazor (vor 2 Jahren)

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fyros pure sève
akash i orak, talen i rechten!
élucubrations
biographie

#56 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
Eeri sprang up from behind a large piece of bark and threw her pique, which hit its target in the chest. Without waiting, she dashed forward, pulled a dagger from her belt, grabbed the spike with her left hand and swung its handle upward to knock the animal to the ground. She finished off the capryni with a blow from her dagger, wincing a little. Then, grabbing it by its hind legs, she dragged it a hundred meters, towards Azazor.

"Azazor, set up a fire! We're going to gorge ourselves on nosh !"

The Fyros complied at once, with the few wood he could find. He was hungry, it had been quite two days since they had last seen the trace of an animal.
As soon as the fire started to burn, he put his breastplate on it to cook the slices of meat that Eeri was carving. After that, she hung thin meat slices cut from the fatty parts on her pike, and positioned the weapon horizontally near the fire. A rather quick way to dry the meat to be able to keep it for a few days, she hoped. The task would have been easier in natural light, but the area was cool, in the shade of the canopy, and evening was coming.

The two chewed in silence, enjoying the meal. As soon as Eeri finished, she stood up.

"We don't have enough wood to finish drying the meat. I'll go back and try to drill some."

Without waiting, she grabbed her hatchet, the pickaxe Azazor luckily still had, and walked away.

The Fyros sat chewing on the rest of his meal. He watched the canopy above him with a dreamy eye. The vegetation that covered some parts and not others, the way some roots seemed to rest literally on others, as if by their complex entanglements, they helped each other not to collapse. Then his gaze followed the interlacing up to the horizon, hoping to see the places where the bark and the canopy met. At a glance, estimating the size of the various canopies was difficult, even from where he was sitting. He moved a little closer to the fire. If they had suffered from the heat during their ascent and then enjoyed the cool nights, the area they had just passed through was permanently shaded by this large canopy. They were expecting a freezing night.

Going through the top of the ridge was certainly the best way to get to Coriolis. However, they could only carry a small amount of food, as their mektoubs had remained at The Citadel. The altitude and steep path, or rather, the lack of a path and the crevasses, made the likelihood of encountering kitins almost nil. At most, they saw one or two kipestas on the hillside below. But they soon realized that they were also encountering few game. The capryni that Eeri had just hunted was an unexpected miracle. Since their departure, they had only caught one or two rather skinny and dehydrated Yubos.

When Eeri returned with more wood, she began to feed the fire with it and then brought the meat to dry a little closer. Crouching there, near the fire, she looked at Azazor, and smiled. For the first time in days, he seemed rested and relaxed.

"I have to tell you how I got through it."

Azazor, turning his eyes from the canopy to the fire, replied:

"The question I have is how we're going to get back. Going back through The Citadel is out of the question, and I don't think they're going to rebuild that rope bridge any time soon. All the more so since I won't be there well received either..."

Eeri continued, ignoring the words Azazor just grumbled:

"That's thanks to a friend of Lopyrèch. He has known me when I was young.

Azazor shuddered at the name, his jaw slowly stopped chewing and his eyes opened wide. He remained silent for a few seconds, as if to convince himself that he had heard correctly.

"He set you free?"
"ney. He took a lot of risks for that. He's the one who gave me this blue armor, mine was too flashy."
"That didn't stop them from spotting you and chasing you."

Eeri recounted her captivity and escape, only skimming over the subject of her liberator's Trytonist beliefs.

"Are you sure that's all?"

The girl looked at the fire, hesitated for a moment, then continued:

"I wasn't done. I had to kill a Marauder, before I could climb. It was either him or me... He dematerialized and probably raised the alarm. I guess they think I'm a spy from another Marauders clan. They probably think you are too, now."
"I don't think so, but it will make it harder to get back."
"We'll get through it. We always find a way."

Eeri went back to tending to the meat that was drying here, while Azazor softly resumed his grumblings:

"By the way... Do you still have your crystal?"

2 mal geändert | Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren) | Grund: Traduction en Anglais par Nilstilar / English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#57 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
               
Eeri's logbook
I told Azazor everything. No more lies. Anyway, I have nothing to hide from him anymore… I don't have much left. They took everything. All the experiments I had planned, no longer possible. No more poison, to test if kitins' reactions are here the same as they are in the New Lands. No more goo, no more filtering helmet, and it's not here that I'll manage to make some. No more empty vials, I won't be able to bring back fragile samples either… Forget about poisons and secretions of local kitins, or other residues I might find in Coriolis. Anyway, I'll decide, when the time comes… It will take a lot of courage to carry something more, with no mektoub…
It's a miracle that I still can write, and that I've got my notebooks returned to me. The Marauders took a copy of them, according to Azazor. At this point, everything could have been worse.

I didn't even ask Azazor why he didn't say or do anything to get me out of this ramèch situation. I owe him that much. He had his reasons, which I respect. I screwed up. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to Mazé'Yum, but if it wasn't for him, if it wasn't for that crystal, I really would have ended up in the belly of a monster from the Wide Puddle. Maybe I should have just told him. Who's right, who's wrong… We are both doing well to put aside what has rotted our relationship since Azazor discovered that vial of poison so long ago.

Who said going up the ridge would be fun? The path we took to get to the top was certainly shaped by homins in the past. But when we reached the top, almost nothing left. We progress as we can, avoiding the crevasses, sometimes compelled to make a detour of a few kilometers to cross. And sometimes, a staircase or a ladder has been installed. Perhaps we are simply losing track of the few arrangements that have been made, as the path is so little used. I especially hope they haven't set up a Zinuakeen further down the path we're following. The Marauders could simply be waiting for us, weapons in hand… Azazor seems to have heard that only a few red dragons hunters and a few Rangers still venture in this direction… They probably have something else to do than chasing us. I guess we are not that important to them.

According to the indications Azazor received, we have a few weeks of walking to do before reaching Coriolis. We are walking on the lookout for any game, any edible plant. When we will be in Coriolis, we will have to find a way to go down the ridge, very carefully. Avoid falling, and avoid being spotted by the kitins. Who knows what we'll find… Maybe nothing, maybe the answer to so many questions.
If we don't starve to death by then.

Below, we can see the hell that has invaded the desert of our ancestors. When we're not walking, the view we get of the kitins' movement is impressive. But the farther we get from The Citadel, the more we can see that they don't cover the whole area, far from that. They move in groups, much larger groups than the ones we can see in our New Lands. But some areas seem to contain fewer kitins, or none at all. Perhaps these are areas devoid of game or food? Or are they areas that kitins avoid for other reasons? Do they move from area to area, depending on the season? Or depending on the food they find? It seems to me that despite their distinct group movements, some kitin herds tend to move closer to the ridge during the day, and further away in the evening. Maybe to find the coolness? We will see, but we may have to go down to Coriolis at night. The desert stretches as far as the eye can see, and we can only see a small part of it, so it would take us a few more days watching these same areas to determine if they are the same groups, or if larger movements are taking place. From here, it is also relatively difficult to distinguish which species are involved, nor to get an idea of the size of these areas. We are so far from the ground, so close to the canopy, without it being accessible. To see the world from so high gives a mixed sensation, between victory, vertigo and infinite anguish. And the more we advance towards Coriolis, the more our impatience turns into feverishness.

Coriolis, the land of our ancestors, where, while digging, they awakened the kitins' swarming. Or Fyrak, perhaps… Perhaps the place where the Powers hide their most terrible secrets.

Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren) | Grund: Traduction en Anglais par Nilstilar / English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#58 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
                
[quote=Azazor's logbook]
After four years of travel from Silan, we finally arrived in Coriolis! Or at least where the mining city once stood. Four years to get there! We are novices, clearly. Novices, weakened by generations of living under the protection of the Powers, when Marauders or Rangers have known how to do without and travel the Silan-The Citadel route in two or three cycles.

From the top of the ridge, looking down, there is nothing. No buildings, not even recognizable ruins. Everything seems to have been swept away by the kitins. They can be seen in the distance emerging from various holes in the ground. These may be the old amber mines, since entirely colonized by the kitins. They form a teeming cloud, at first sight totally anarchic. However, this mass then splits in two. One part converges somewhere to the southeast, towards what I think is the old Matis forest, and the other one goes towards The Citadel. It really looks like Coriolis is some sort of starting point for the kitins.

We know that we are at the level of Coriolis, because, apart from this agglutination of kitins denser than elsewhere in the desert, we can still see some ruins on the side of the cliff, high up. One of them reminds me of what is left of a watchtower, another of a half-collapsed facade. But the best preserved ruin is the one we are in. It is a kind of temple more or less troglodyte almost at the very top of the ridge. Only its facade emerges from the cliff, the rest of the temple being carved in the bark. We had to go down a little with the ropes to reach it. The position of this ruin, very difficult to access by kitins from the bottom or the top of the ridge, explains its relatively good state of preservation.

Given the amber columns that decorate the entrance façade, it is most likely a temple. On the tympanum, also visibly carved in pure amber and finely decorated, one can still read "talum glad èt" (knowledge is a weapon), as well as an engraving resembling the tattoo of the Fire of Coriolis. It is difficult to say what function this temple had. A library? I imagined them rather in Fyre than in Coriolis. A place for crafting and restoring of amber cubes, perhaps, as Eeri suggests? Which wouldn't be silly, given the proximity of the amber mines.

Concerning the access ways, a staircase cut in the cliff used to allow to reach the temple by the bottom, but this one is now totally unusable, since only a few pieces remain here and there, all the rest having collapsed. There must also have been other buildings lower down the cliff, accessible by the same staircase weawing on the wall. Bending down, one can still see some remains of these buildings from time to time.

Inside the temple, there is a main hall with a half collapsed roof. The whole back of the hall is inaccessible because of the collapsed ceiling which forms a heap of rubble obstructing access to possible rooms at the back. Only two well-preserved doors, on the sides, are still accessible. One on the left, leading to a room entirely collapsed on itself, and another on the right, in which I am. On the floor, some furniture falling into dust, empty shelves carved from the bark, and the remains of a campfire, suggesting that this room was used in the not so distant past. By whom? Marauders passing through, like the famous Clan of Red Drakes Hunters that Titus' father once belonged to? Or by Rangers on an observation mission? It must be said that from the only window of the room, we have an unobstructed view on the desert and its teeming tide of kitins.

With Eeri, we decided to excavate the back of the main hall, to try to access hypothetical rooms further back. If there is still some knowledge preserved in these places, it can only be behind the rubble. It will take us several hours to create a passage towards what can be found behind all this jumble.

......

We have started excavating the back of the hall but we are pausing for a moment of reflection. One thing puzzles us. While patiently removing the wooden rubble, we could notice that some of it was probably not the result of a collapse but had been put there on purpose. It is in fact a precise place that alerts us. It is as if there was a tunnel already dug in the original heap of rubble which would have then been filled in with what one had to hand. It seems that we are not the first ones to dig a passage, but that the last ones to have done it had to fill it up again quickly afterwards. This refilling should not date from very long ago. Our hypothesis is that behind is a gallery through which kitins can potentially come out and that this has been filled in by homins to ensure a relative security for the place. However, even if it is not very prudent, we must see what is on the other side.

I think for the first time in my life I like to dig. I feel like the Coriolis miners who went deeper and deeper to find the Great Dragon and were the first to stumble upon the kitins. I may know what the story is, but I can't help but feel the excitement of my Fyros race, the excitement of going further and deeper in search of the Truth. If there are kitins behind it, then so be it. I am ready to die, here, on our land, surrounded by our ancestors. For, after all, does courage remain forever in the memories of our ancestors fallen in battle, or does it still flow in the hearts of patriots?For after all, does courage remain forever in the memories of our ancestors who died in battle, or does it still swell in the hearts of patriots?

3 mal geändert | Zuletzt geändert von Azazor (vor 2 Jahren)

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fyros pure sève
akash i orak, talen i rechten!
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#59 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
                
"Aza, look at this!"

Eeri completes the clearing of the sawdust covering a skull that is in pretty good condition. For several hours Azazor and Eeri have been meticulously clearing what looks more and more like a tunnel dug by who knows who. Homins? Kitins? It's impossible to say. The fact remains that the said tunnel has been refilled afterwards. The state of the backfill makes no doubt about it. The two Fyros did not try to clear the entire tunnel and limited themselves in digging a narrow one that only a single homin, lying down, wuld be able to cross. By dint of going back and forth, they dug for themselves a gallery of several meters long and eventually entered a kind of small cave lined with sawdust. The cavern ends in another tunnel, perfectly open as for it. This one must not be part of the temple, considering the walls which seem rather rough. Were this cave and tunnel already present when the temple was built by the Fyros Empire? Or were they built afterwards, the tunnel leading to who knows where? Unless this tunnel is just a kitin digging?

Before perhaps venturing further into the tunnel beyond the cave, the two Fyros set out to search the ground for anything important that might have been preserved under the sawdust. Very quickly, they managed to uncover there a piece of shield in advanced decomposition, here the blade of a retch without its handle or some finely cut balls of sap probably issued from a jewel. The few remains found so far suggest that a number of Fyros died here. The light of the torch they have planted in the ground brings out the remains of this battlefield, making the scene rather gloomy.

Azazor gets closer to the skeleton found by Eeri. So far, only its skull is clear of the soil. The remainder is still buried in the soft ground made of sawdust and debris of all kinds. Unlike Eeri, it is not the first time that he is confronted with a skeleton, he has already seen one during his anatomy classes at the Imperial Academy. However, it is the first time he touches one, and the contact of the bone under his fingers gives him a shiver that runs through his spine. Clearing his throat to refocus, Azazor begins to clear around the skeleton to free the rest of the body.

"What are you doing?"
"Doesn't it show? Digging."
"Do you want to see if he was bow-legged?"
"dey, I want to see if the rest of the body has been better preserved by the sawdust. Jewelry, boots, a semblance of clothing, anything. We found only crumbs for the moment.

Eeri shrugs her shoulders but nevertheless helps the Fyros in his task. Even if it disgusts her, she is also curious to know if the homin in question left something else than his old bones in his death. After a few minutes of searching around the skeleton, Azazor comes across a box closed by a latch. He proudly holds it up to Eeri, who opens wide astonished eyes. The Fyros smiles at her and hurries to open the box. Alas, nothing is inside. Azazor's discomfited face makes the Fyrossa smile. What was he hoping for after all? To find an amber cube ?

As this thought crossed her mind, her gaze caught a brief flash of light below where the box had been. The Fyros saw it too and dips his hand to grab the object before she does.
This time, no disappointment. The object that Azazor pulls out is cubic in shape, giving off a slight purplish glow.

"Coriolis ! can't help but let go of the Fyrossa."
"There is an inscription on it. Wait…"

The Fyros blows on it to expel the impurities then starts to read the inscription. His voice echoes in the cave.

"bavèchen coriolis fyrum…"
"Rumors about the fire of Coriolis!"
"ney! But given the condition of the cube, we won't be able to read it here. We'll have to reactivate it at least."
"Yep, it's missing a piece, too."

A corner of the cube is indeed missing. Seeing this, Azazor starts to search around the skeleton for the lost piece, when a noise is heard from the back of the tunnel.

"Aza, did you hear that?" Eeri bellows.
"Help me searching!" the Fyros yells while continuing to rummage frantically around the skeleton.

Another noise is made hear, closer this time. Eeri, with a sharp ear, recognizes the rapid movement of a kitin coming to meet them.

"Aza, there's a kitin turning up!"

The Fyros looks up at Eeri, looking peeved. A kincher's growl paints the terror on his face.

"ramèch! We scram!"

They both rush towards the gallery they have dug and, crawling as fast as they can, come out panting, covered with sawdust and completely panicked. Behind them, the kincher lets out another howl.

"He… he won't be able to pass, the gallery is too narrow and…

As if to make the Fyros lie, the kincher starts furiously scratching the gallery to enlarge it. Its strength is phenomenal, and soon it seems obvious that the beast will quickly cross over to the other side, where the two terrified Fyros await it. They have faced kitins before in the New Lands, but not here. The ones in the Old Lands are much tougher, they know. And most of all, if they fall, there will be no one to pick them up.
But soon their martial training takes over and they equip themselves with the weapons they had left in the small room to the right of the hall. Azazor equips himself with his shield and his hatchet, Eeri slip on Azazor's amplifiers, her pike being anyway ineffective against the kinchers and the Fyros having formally forbidden her to handle his two-handed axe. In any case, he is the tank, he has always been, always reluctant to take care of healings.

Ready to fight, the two Fyros face the gallery from which the kincher soon emerges and explodes the pile of fill that was blocking the tunnel. It is gigantic compared to those of the New Lands. Even bigger than a Gerder or a Daï-den. Its red color also clashes. Its mandibles slam violently against each other while it lets out an even more piercing howl than before.

As if to respond to the kincher's attempt at intimidation, Azazor bangs his shield with his hatchet.

"Come here, kitin! Here, there are still Fyros fighting!"

The fight that follows is particularly violent. More than once, the Fyros must painfully take the hits of the kincher on his shield while the Fyrossa provides support from behind. Fortunately, the kitin fights no differently than in the New Lands, and most of all, Eeri is there to provide healing and cast fire spells when the opportunity arises. After a tough fight, where the Fyros sees his hatchet shatter in the kincher's mandibles and is forced to let go of the shield to fight with the two-handed axe, the kitin finally collapses under a final fatal fire spell from Eeri. The two Fyros barely catch their breath when a tremor is felt in the temple. A thousand paws crackle from the back of the hall, where the kincher has appeared.

"There are others Aza! We have to get out of here!"
"ney! Back to the rope and then to the plateau!"

Running like crazy, they just managed to hang on to the rope when a multitude of kitins, mainly kirostas, come out of the tunnel and head towards the two Fyros. These don't hesitate and climb back up as fast as they can, while the kirostas stay below, unable to follow them in their climb.

4 mal geändert | Zuletzt geändert von Azazor (vor 2 Jahren)

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fyros pure sève
akash i orak, talen i rechten!
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#60 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
"For once, it's not because of my bullshit," Eeri gasped. "Were you able to save the cube?"
"ney" Azazor grumbled in a breath, slouching onto his back to catch his breath. "ramèch, let's hope there's no gallery leading to the plateau of the ridge."

Eeri stood up quickly and slowly started to pull up the rope.

"One more Tryker with us, and it would have broken, she laughed. We were lucky. But I don't think we'll be able to use it again."
"One less Fyrossa and I would have finished my trip here."
"Don't talk nonsense. We're just making a good team," replied Eeri. "When we're not smacking each other around,", she thought.

Eeri hurriedly climbed a small hill, and watched the surroundings, on the lookout.

"Don't delay, Aza. If the kitins have a way to get up here, they'll roll up any minute…"
"You're right. Let's not dawdle."

Azazor sit up quickly. They had to get away from the edge of the ridge and move carefully, on the lookout. The mountain probably had many tunnels, it could take only one access for a horde of kirostas to come after them.

"So that was it, Coriolis," announced Azazor, in a solemn manner.
"I guess so. I didn't really know what to expect…"
"There's nothing left but the little we could see."
"Otherwise, we'd have to find a way to get down further."
"Are you seriously thinking about it?"

Eeri stopped, and looked towards the horizon.

"geniyùch, talorùch, didraùch... dey, odraùch.*"
"Do you really think this is the time to declare poetry?" Azazor scoffed.
"Well… We've come this far, and even if it's not as glorious as we imagined, we should find the kind of quote that could remain in the legend, you understand…

Azazor shrugged his shoulders with an unconvinced look.

"The legend," Azazor laughed, resuming his walk. "What a beautiful legend you're."
"You're right, ney, that doesn't sound so good," she continued. "And there's nobody else but us, we'll be able to come up with something that's a little bit cooler later on."

Eeri followed Azazor's lead, sticking out her tongue toward him.

Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren) | Grund: English translation by Nilstilar !

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#61 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
They found the perfect place to set up camp when it was already dark. It was a large piece of bark, luckily forming a small hut. Eeri took out what was left of the dried meat and put it between Azazor and herself. They had walked for hours. They had been right to stay on guard: a few kirostas did find their way to the plateau, and seemed to be patrolling the area in groups. The Fyros redoubled their caution. Two of them would not have been the match for several kirostas, but a group was easier to avoid than a few scattered, independent individuals. It took them several hours, however, to get around the area and far enough away.

Still panting, they pecked at the meat, piece by piece, chewing slowly. The less there is to eat, the more you have to make your body believe that you are eating. Eeri began to speak in in hushed tones, so as to stay on the lookout for the slightest noise in the surroundings.

"Any idea where we are, dey?"
"More or less east of Coriolis. We should have gone west, but those damn kirostas…"
"I think we did well to stay very far away. Some of the kirostas back home can spot us from a long way away… So here, who knows."
"I'm not saying we should have gone near them."

Eeri swallowed a bite and swallowed loudly.

"Anyway, the east is our road."
"What are you talking about?"

Eeri took another piece of meat and began to chew it. She went to spit out a piece of rind, but changed her mind and chewed harder. Food was scarce. Azazor continued.

"We go west, we find a way to get off that damn ridge into the desert of the Oflovak Road."
"dey. We continue east, towards Fyre."
"BUT YOU ARE COMPLETELY INSA…"
"But shhhh!! We said no noise!"

Azazor, resumed whispering in a strangled voice, his eyes exorbited:
"You're completely insane… It's at least three months away…"
"So, have you ever been that close to Fyre? Me dey."
"And then, we have nothing to eat!"
"We'll find some."
"Eeri… We found an amber cube that seems to speak about Coriolis! I can't risk losing it. And then, there is probably nothing left, like here."
"I am ready to run the risk. I will go alone, if you don't keep up with me."

Azazor answer nothing. He knew that if Eeri had an idea in mind, it would be difficult to convince her to change it.

"We'll talk about it when it's light," he grumbled.
"I'll keep watch for a few hours, get some sleep," Eeri replied.

Eeri, on the lookout for the slightest noise, got out of the bark nest in which the fyros was already snoring. In the darkness, his gaze wandered eastward, ever further from the New Lands. Fyre, the land of her ancestors, the city whose name made the dreams of Pyr's children vibrate, when she was a child. A city so big, so far away. Probably destroyed, in whole or in part, by now. She backed up against a small bush, balanced her pike on her lap and closed her eyes. It was decided, as soon as the light of day appeared, she would leave for Fyre. With or without Azazor.

Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren) | Grund: english Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#62 Mehrsprachig 

Mehrsprachig | English | Français
"Eeri!!!"

The Fyros was shouting his head off, but continued to pant for a few hundred yards, before screaming again:

"Eeri!!! Damn you, you filthy bodoc-head!!"

Azazor stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He had been following her tracks for days, and now he thought he saw her in the distance. She was moving fast, much faster than when they were together.
As night fell, he thought of starting a fire. The light in the night might warn the Fyrossa that he was on her heels, and she would probably wait for him, or so he hoped. Then again, the light from a fire could attract predators. Too risky, especially when alone.

"What an idea to let her go alone," he grumbled as he set off again. He could still walk at least two hours before nightfall, he had no time to waste. If only he had made the decision earlier to finally leave for Fyre… But was this a good decision? He had an amber cube, a cube that might hold a great truth about the Fire of Coriolis. It was irresponsible to take that risk, he knew. But he couldn't bring himself to let Eeri discover Fyre alone. And then… she was Uzykos' mother. His son. They had left together, they would return together.

Azazor moved forward as long as he could see where he was stepping, more and more cautiously as the night fell. When it was almost dark, he noticed a crevice in the sawdust and sat down there, axe in hand. Since they had left, they had become accustomed to the same ritual at nightfall, when they had to rest or stop in an unknown and unprotected place. Sitting down. For a moment, total silence, weapons in hand, and concentrate on the sounds, trying to imagine their distance and position in the dark. A brief isolated noise was never a bad sign, it could always be a crack of the bark. Rapid footsteps, more or less close, were often signs of wildlife around, usually herbivores, like themselves on the lookout for predators. Here, herbivores were few, so you had to concentrate rather on possible predators. In general, muffled footsteps on the bark, approaching or describing a circle around them. If after long minutes the area remained silent, they could begin to relax. For predators never wait long before signaling their presence and attacking.

When all seemed silent, he could finally close his eyes, exhausted.

***

He woke up in the same position at dawn and looked around. Everything looked different from what he had been able to watch in the dark before laying for sleep. He had not thought he had fallen asleep so close to the precipice, and now realized that only a few meters lay between him and the ravine. He stood up, stretched, and looked down at the spectacle of the desert below, once again. The desert of his ancestors, still teeming with kitins, a veritable army held back by this montain. The swarm he had experienced in the New Lands was nothing compared to the amount of kitins he could see here, and the small patch of desert he could see from here suggested him that there must be millions of them in this desert alone, if not more. Probably a number that no Fyros could ever imagine.

Quickly, he set off again, following the edge of the cliff, and after several hours of walk, he posted himself on a small hillock to observe if he could find a trace of Eeri. But nothing, she was probably already far away, ahead. He went back down and resumed his route, thinking of a better way to signal her about his presence. If only he had a firework… Or a torbak horn, it was possible to create prodigiously loud sounds by blowing into it. But nothing like that. He was walking along, a little lost in his thoughts, until he heard a growl. By reflex, he grabbed his axe and stopped.

A cuttler, in front of him, was looking at him with hungry eyes, a sort of dusty slime on its lips. Its color blended with the sawdust of the ridge.

"ramèch, I sure needed that…"

He looked around, knowing that a cuttler never comes alone. He guessed a second one, slightly behind on his left, in the shadows. Two of them? Too easy. He clutched his axe and prepared for the assault. Attack the first one, and be ready to parry the fangs of the one who would come from behind, if possible with a blow of his axe. However, his attention was disturbed by something, another presence. A third cuttler? He wasn't sure. The predator, in front of him, had not yet attacked him, seeming also to hesitate. It was then that a terrible cry was heard. Eeri emerged from the bank and rushed at the animal, daggers in hand.

"Gruuuuhhh !"
"Eeri!"
"Watch out for the third one!"
"What third one?"

Another cuttler, which he had not seen, lunged at Azazor. The Fyros dodged, and with a great kick, sent the animal into the ravine.

"Well done! Another one behind," shouted Eeri, still struggling with the first one.
"What the hell are you doing here, I thought you were days away," replied Azazor, sending a sharp blow with his axe into his attacker's jaw, knocking out some of its teeth.
"I'm the one asking you that! I thought you were gone!"

After several blows from Azazor's axe, the third cuttler ended up running away on three legs, panting and dripping with blood, while Eeri while Eeri finished off the one she was holding down with a series of dagger blows. Azazor shrugged his shoulders.

"With two, it's easy."
"ney. So you're accompanying me?"
"ney. You didn't think I was going to leave the rediscovery of Fyre to a half-tryker Fyrossa, did you?"
"Now that's the spirit!"
Pointing to a cuttler on the ground, she added:
"Have you ever eaten cuttler?"
"dey. It must be gross, but if that's all there is to eat, I'm not going to refuse."

Eeri's face gave Azazor her usual butcher's smile, and she began to cut off the four limbs of the animal.

"You have to hammer the meat well before you roast it, it reduces the acidity and it's more digestible. Then if you have time, you cook it slowly, it's a little more tender."
"I know it tenderizes it, but the acidity?"
"Did you know that Fraiders sometimes eat tyrancha? Well, they can cook the cuttler too."
"And so they bang on it?"
"ney, you crush it and get the juice out. It's drier, but it saves you a lot of trouble."

She threw a thigh to Azazor.

"The head and the torso, they're really not edible. Moreover, this one is not very big. Anyway, we have to find a place sheltered from the wind, we can't light a fire here."

She fixed the two front limbs on her bag with a piece of cord, then threw the thigh on her shoulder.

"Let's go. We'll find a place to set up camp and coo…"

Eeri was interrupted by a roar of incredible power that shook the mountain.

"I know you're hungry, but still…"

Something was approaching. The two Fyros remained for a moment dumbfounded, motionless and silent. The rumbling sound came again, closer, and the air filled with an ominous tension. Peering over the edge of the cliff, where the noise was coming from, they saw a gigantic creature emerge, the likes of which they had never seen before.

"Put your amps on!" Azazor shouted.
"dey, YOU put on the amps. This time it's my turn to play," Eeri shouted back, snatching the axe from the Fyros' hands.
"But!"
"My axe won't do the trick ! Do as I say!"

2 mal geändert | Zuletzt geändert von Eeri (vor 2 Jahren)

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"
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