"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Deep in the sands of time we lay to rest a family cherished by all. The king Sarram-Nir, prince Nir-Sandad, the queen Larsa-Uruk, the second-son Akkadian-Shakkad, and our child Princess Jjalari-Uruk. May they find peace in the realm beyond, and bless us still in their absence.
Black as a demon's shadow he merged and blended with his immediate surroundings like a furtive plague. And like a plague he carried death in his wake. Every last person that had known him intimately now stirred in their crumbling graves, the dust and ashes of their corpses mingling beneath the sands of his homeland as he walked a stranger's land. While his family's ripped and dismembered bodies had rotted in the desert sun, his confused heart slipped away before any could confirm he wasn't among them.
As the second-born son, the sole purpose of his life was to protect his brother-prince, and he had failed them all. To seek revenge, a profoundly desirable option, would be foolish and wasteful. No amount of battle training could bring them back to life. But to stay and carry that noble mantle was also not an option, for he was not truly a second-born prince whether the populace was aware of that fact or not, but merely an interloper delivered to the late queen as a sickly child. He had no rights to it, wasn't trained for it like his admired brother Nir-Sandad, and frankly didn't want it. To all involved, Akkadian died among his family in that massacre. And in truth, perhaps he did.
He must have reached a boundary of some kind as his attentive senses were attacked with stimuli; visions of sunlight and darkness, waterfalls and ice-capped mountains. He had expected a difference in climate when he abandoned his homeland to get here (another story in itself), but this was beyond logic and explanation. Some kind of magic flowed through this earth floating all around like the dusty sands from his own. It was some kind of portal maybe.. If the people, too, were this enchanted, perhaps even with all his battle studies, techniques, and stratagem he would be left at a disadvantage. That was unacceptable.
Every direction he looked seemed to shift to a different image, his eyes alight with uncertainty and suspicion as the sun began its slow descent to evening. Lost and without purpose, the former bodyguard stood tensed and waited to see if one vision would call to him more strongly than the others. Each one reflected on his dark face in a multitude of lights and colors, but even still not a sound could be heard. Like a silent film he watched, steady gaze shifting from one to another every few moments, with no other audience near but the trees of the forest surrounding him. He couldn't go back, but which way was forward..
Josie frolicked through the entrance of the field, she was so excited to meet new equines and hopefully even be able to recruit them back to her kingdom. It was so nice to visit the field and small the fresh flowers that bloomed during the spring, it was hard for flowers to bud in the Tundra. She was able to move so freely through the field without snow dragging her down, her pace quickened into a gallop and she flew around the field freely. Her mane blew in the wind and she thrashed her head about playfully allowing a whinny to escape her maw.
She was having so much fun she forgot to look where she was going, she was close to another, to close. She slid to a halt almost bumping muzzles with a stallion oh my gosh! I am so sorry! she quickly apologized and backed up, her heart beat with embarrassment. Not only did she almost run over another equine but this one was tall dark and handsome; he had a similar build to herself and no doubt was part arabian. her eyes clearly expressed her embarrassment and she tried not to make eye contact with him. a...are you okay? she mumbled. I'm Josie by the way, whats your name? she asked curiously. She surely would not mind bringing this equine back to the kingdom with her, he seemed strong enough to carry himself. He didn't carry a kingdoms scent which gave her hope he would be more willing to come back with her. She shook off her body and raised her head to look proud and strong before looking for his gaze.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
Magnus walked slowly into the field, his gold-flecked eyes bright and watchful as they washed over all of the bodies that inhabited it. The potential was enough to stir enthusiasm into his veins; he could feel it wash up against the back of his throat as he stood silently along the land’s border. That was perhaps his very favorite part of his daily trek here. It was a place where he could shed the guilt and the regret. He could shed everything except the quiet anticipation of finding new souls—and maybe even new friends.
He clung to that hope as he watched the interaction between the black stallion and mare of a similar hue, his scarred mouth lifting into a crooked grin. Shrugging his powerful shoulders, he made his way toward them, a stark difference in color. “Hello to you both!” he called when he was a few yards away, the breeze lifting the tangled ink of his mane to reveal the sweat-slicked flesh beneath it. He did love a good run.
Moving closer still, he only came to a stop when he was a few feet away—keeping a respectable distance from the both while coming close enough to easy to talk. “My name is Magnus.” His expression was neutral, friendly—but his gaze was sharp as he watched them both. If he had known of the stallion’s story, he might have felt the sharp sting of empathy; no one knew better than him the weight of regret. Alas, he did not and instead, he waited patiently. “What brings you both to the field on a day like today?”
"Ahkva! Ahkva!", she squealed, irritated with him. "Why do you ignore me!" Princess Jjalari was not used to being so easily dismissed.
"Not now sister", Akkadian tossed over his shoulder at her with a wicked grin aimed at his targets, "there are still threats yet." He zeroed in on them and removed her presence from his mind, letting all distractions melt away. Then the two colts charged him simultaneously, synchronizing their attacks in a desperate attempt to outmatch the Guardian Son and wipe that cocky sneer off his face.
As he gradually became accustomed to the surreal visions of this land, his awareness expanded. The misty apparitions of other horses slowly solidified, and sound slipped in to his consciousness. Then, as if in after-thought, smell joined the greeting. He pulled a slow deep breath through his nose, testing, but nearly every scent was new and unrecognizable. That is, save for the general perfume of a female nearest him.
The sound of her gallop had teased him like a whisper on the breeze and he'd ignored it momentarily while his senses labored to be fully adjusted. He attuned to her now as she drew nearer to him, the approach demanding his immediate attention, and complemented the smell and sound with sight, mentally fitting her pieces together in his mind.
His heart nearly stopped, unprepared as he was for the stranger's likeness to the princess, his baby sister. She was only months old the last he saw her, but would have probably been around the same age had she not been slaughtered with the rest of them. His expression hardened as he endured the pain in silence, observing the stranger mare passively as he continued to hold himself still.
She tossed herself about without a care in the world, running freely with a soul unmarred by the tragedies of reality. So consumed in her play, she appeared to be barrelling toward him on a collision course. Coming from a land where everyone was on watch for attacking clans, nearly to the point of being hyper-aware, he couldn't believe her actions were accidental. This must be some sort of test, or initiation, in this place. Perhaps to see if he would baulk to avoid her. He was no coward, and he wasn't afraid of the pain this collision would cause him.
Akkadian shifted his weight a moment to test his balance was even and loose, then held solid as a rock with his gaze locked on to her. He took mental note of a new presence approaching, but dismissed it in order to keep his full focus on his immediate adversary. Her eyes met his for a brief instant, registering surprise, and she braced her legs forward, churning up earth and pebbles beneath her hooves as she slid to a stop.
Her muzzle came to rest just a hair's breadth away from his own, a very intimate distance in his culture. His eyes narrowed, but he did not back away. Apparently he didn't need to as she threw a hasty apology his way and quickly began retreating a few paces. Her gaze avoided his as she mumbled more speech, introduced herself as Josie, and ask his name in return. He remained quiet, and a few seconds later she seemed to compose herself, standing taller than before and lifting her chin.
He ignored her questions, dismissing her as harmless and possibly uncivilized; not an opponent, not his test. His gaze instead shifted to the next possible threat as a buckskin stallion called out to them. Akkadian released his taut muscles and felt warm blood lubricate them for action. His training and the near-constant warring state of affairs of the clan taught him to be prepared for anything and suspect all, friend and foe alike.
But the stallion halted at a generous distance, especially when compared to the mare, and announced himself as Magnus without any apparent malicious intent. Akkadian believed he recognized a fellow or former warrior in the knowing glint of the stallion's eyes and an ease in the way he carried himself, and nodded solemnly in acknowledgement. "What brings you both to the field on a day like today?" he had questioned.
Ah, so they called this place The Field. He stole a quick glance around, coupling the title to the images in his mind. The people here seemed inquisitive, each one so far had greeted him with a statement then a query, twice so in the woman's case. Perhaps it was customary to do this, so he decided he'd adapt to it as well in respect of their culture.
"I'm a traveler," he stated. His eyes slipped to the mare and away swiftly, hoping she wouldn't catch his avoidance of her inquiry as to his name. It was a touchy subject at present, but would have to be breached eventually, he knew. Until then.. "What sort of place is this?" he questioned, keeping to the tradition. His voice was not as deep as perhaps expected, but a mid-level baritone with smoothness to it often found in younger stallions. His gaze stayed trained on Magnus, though his other senses focused more on Josie, belatedly hoping he hadn't disrespected her in his foreigner's ignorance.
OOC: I give up. Shorter posts are just impossible for me. So very sorry
The stallion was so tall, but at a second glance he was standing tall as if to respond to an attack. She cocked her head with curiosity but thought it was best to let it go, after all she didn't know this equine. She spoke but it was like he did not hear her, he didn't even bother to give a response. Her ears slightly flicked back, irritated with the lack of respect. He couldn't even say if he was okay or not. She was ready to give him a peace of her mind but she was interrupted by the voice of another.
It was a buckskin stallion and he already was more respectful, he gave an introduction and even acknowledged Josie. Her ear moved back to its regular forward position and she gently dipped her neck to the new stallion Hello Magnus, my name is Josie she gave an introduction before flicking to the dark stallion who finally spoke, a traveler, he says. Was it a coincidence that he only spoke when Magnus came around? Did he think that males were superior to females and Josie didn't deserve the same respect? He could barely even give eye contact to her, she held her tongue though and kept her comments to herself.
He asked what sort of place this was and he confirmed that he was not from Beqanna, perhaps the lands he came from did not appreciate females, or know common courtesy. It is the field, most equines come to find a home here, some live here her voice was stale, still irritated with his lack of courtesy but she was a diplomat and it would be out of place to be rude to a horse who did not speak a word to her.
you and I both know that the house is haunted and you and I both know that the ghost is me
The Field was a melting pot of souls—blending together (some better than others) and then pulling apart. It was a dance of newcomers, recruiters, kingdoms, herds, and even olds souls simply looking for a second wind in their life. It was invigorating to Magnus; he loved the politics of it, the potential of it, the infinite possibilities playing out all around him. Even in situations as tense and alien as this.
Growing quiet, he took more time to study the stallion, noting the discomfort, the unease and wondering if he was indeed a foreigner to Beqanna. It was not unheard of, but it was rare. Usually, Magnus was dealing with the children of Beqanna legacy, their blood tied to decades of generations here. He did not often have to explain the rituals of Beqanna, although he did not mind. It was simply a new experience.
Magnus himself was born of Beqanna and, in his time, had been a Prince of two separate kingdoms. His father, the temperamental panther-King of the Chamber, and his mother the even feistier jaguar-Queen of the Amazons. He had lived most of his youth amongst the vines of the jungle surrounded by the warrior-women (the beginning of his love affair and respect for the female gender) before serving in the Chamber, eventually rising to Lord. But neither kingdom of his birthright had been where he had planted his roots. Instead, he had followed his heart to Heaven—a kingdom that none would have guessed for him.
He fell in love with the Princess, serving as her General and then eventually as King.
But that was neither here nor there. Magnus did not often bring up his own history in the meadow and instead he simply smiled gently at the mare. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Josie.” She bore no distinct scent and had not yet given any indication of her home, so he had no way of knowing for what purpose she was here (perhaps she was looking to grow a herd, perhaps she was a sister of the Amazons). Regardless, he relaxed; even warring kingdoms could put aside their differences in the Field. Usually.
Nodding at her explanation, he glanced toward the newcomer. “She is correct in that. The Field is a place for those looking for a place to call home.” He paused, weighing his words, and then decided to expand on the explanation slightly. “For most, that is split into two options: herds and kingdoms. I myself come from a kingdom. It can simply be a place to rest or an opportunity to join our castes and rise in ranks. The choice is ultimately yours.” Worried that he was perhaps overwhelming the stallion, he offered one more thing before falling quiet. “I would be happy to help if you have any further questions on the matter.”
Akkadian listened attentively to their speech patterns, taking note of how relaxed their postures were, even as strangers to each other. Perhaps this place was more at peace than he was accustomed to. He cautiously relaxed the tension in his muscles, watching the two carefully for any change in their behavior. It made him miss home, where he was at ease throughout the day. The only thing that tensed him then is when that wily sister of his put herself in danger. It often made him wonder if she did it on purpose just to have him swoop in and rescue her.
Josie responded first, explaining that this place was for lost souls to find a home. He focused on her, his deep cocoa eyes assessing. He reflected on less of what she said, but rather how she said it, something they had commonly relied on at home. There was a change in her tone since she first spoke to him, and he couldn't place why but felt as though he had caused it somehow. Perhaps she was like the sun-cat, so sweet when you pet her but cunning and brought a swift attack when you try to back away. The idea would take further consideration.
He passed his attention to the stallion, Magnus, as he confirmed her words. Akkadian flicked his sight to her briefly again, weighing her reaction to this. His sister, he knew, would have been livid at someone repeating her as if her words could not be trusted or were of no consequence. But he was slowly seeing that these people were a good deal different in their mannerisms, and he'd have to learn them before he offended anyone. Or, anyone else, as some where along the way he'd decided that's what he must've done to cause Josie to change her manner towards him.
Magnus continued, elaborating on her statement. The stallion seemed so calm to Akkadian. It felt odd to him. There was a depth of knowledge about him but..so eerily mellow. These must certainly be a peaceful land. He brushed these thoughts aside for a moment as he weighed their explanations. A place to find a home. Kingdoms, herds, caste and ranks.
It seemed Akkadian had found a great place to start then, for he no longer had a home. He looked over each of them carefully a few moments, considering their actions thus far. The mare had nearly fallen in his lap, and the other approached boldly and openly.
Ah, so you have a proposition for me then, he stated calmly, his eyes expectant.
Though he now kept his gaze on Magnus, he felt Josie would speak up as well if she wished. There may be a bit of hidden steel to that one. He quickly buried the unbidden urge to sidle next to and in front of her, accrediting it to her likeness to the princess and the natural position he'd take to protect her. Instead, he remained still, positioned before them both equally. Hopefully that would gentle her ruffled feathers a bit.
The ebony mare gazed at the buckskin who responded to her introduction likewise she responded in a gentle tone, a much different tone than she had towards the dark stallion. His kingdoms scent was stale, and she wondered why exactly but she was pretty sure he belonged to the Gates. She could not decide one hundred percent if he did or not, and he did not state the kingdom he belonged to. Although he did spare Josie her breath and explained kingdom life to the dark stallion which seemed to grasp his attention, whether it was because Magnus spoke of it or if it genuinely interested him she didn't know.
The dark stallion seemed to absorb all the information but refrained from speaking, he was certainly and odd one but for whatever damn reason she wanted to learn more about him. So you have a proposition for me he spoke and of course she would not let Magnus steal this recruit from out under her. It would be a disgrace to her kingdom to let him go, and she wouldn't be able to bother him asking him all the questions if she let him go. She had to at least try to persuade him to return with her.
Like Magnus I also belong to a kingdom, the Tundra to be exact. We are a lovely kingdom, more like a family than anything and we also have castes. her voice was gentle again, excited to possibly return with another equine. She was so hopeful and excited her ears even lifted off her head and pricked forward, a small smile curled her lips as her gaze looked for the dark stallions By the way, what was your name? she pressed for the question he seemingly chose to ignore.
we carry these things inside that no one else can see they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea
“I suppose you could look at it that way,” Magnus replied, one corner of his scarred mouth rising in the corner. “Although I prefer to think of it as providing you with just one more option.” It had never been his style to push his home without taking into account what the other wanted—nay, needed. What good would it do to oversell the Gates and bring someone who was ill-suited or who would be unhappy?
No one would benefit from such an outcome.
Still, there were certain protocols that must be met, and Magnus was not against meeting them. So he waited for Josie to talk (ah, the Tundra—he had never spent much time in the barren land), nodding and smiling as she did. “The Tundra is indeed a noble kingdom.” He turned his head back toward the stallion in question, tangled, inky tail flicking behind him to slap against his lacerated hide.
“I’m from the Gates. We were previously known to be of the Light alignment, although such labels have long since faded. It is difficult to place people into neat boxes when the world is made of so much grey.” He paused for a moment, not wanting to rush his words and explanation of the Gates. There were few things that he enjoyed as much as talking about his, Joelle’s, home. “That being said, our kingdom is very much a sanctuary for those who need a home or simply shelter to rest their head. It is comprised of many kind, gentle souls.” Not all though. Certainly not Magnus. Perhaps this is where the proposition lies.
“Unfortunately, peace is not free. I am always on the lookout for strong soldiers who can help preserve it—who can fight for it.” Not everyone appreciated what the Gates had to offer as much as Magnus did. Not everyone viewed it as a bounty—there were some who would always be driven to destroy it. He took a second to size up the stallion, pleased with what he saw. Should have war drums in his heart, Akkadian would make a find soldier for whichever army he joined. “I would be happy to tell you more if you would like. You can also visit both kingdoms if you prefer to see them in person before a decision is made.”
08-09-2016, 09:07 PM (This post was last modified: 08-10-2016, 08:40 AM by Akkadian.)
Akkadian
"Awk-ay-dee-Uhn"
The Guardian has returned.
Akkadian noticed the abrupt change in Josie's behavior. Where she had become chilled and short, she was now alight with a flame of pride and happiness. Whatever place this Tundra was, it certainly pleased her.
More like a family than anything, she says with a smile, and we also have castes.
He blinked. Glanced at Magnus for any kind of clarification, then looked back to Josie. A family.. and caste? Family was equals in his land and the very definition of caste is an hierarchy and social status. They sounded like near opposites to Akkadian but he shrugged it off, keeping his doubts to himself. He would learn the culture and understand it better at a later date. Whatever it meant to her, she clearly believed what she was saying; her face was still bright and hopeful. He always put more value in how someone spoke rather than what they said and would take her expressions to heart.
What was your name, she requested again. He tensed, and hesitated, but nodded slowly to her after a moment; a silent promise he would respond in good time. His gaze turned to Magnus, prepared to hear him out as well.
The stallion agreed with her that her kingdom was noble, but claimed a different one as his home; one called the Gates. The place sounded to Akkadian like a place of safety for peaceful and gentle people. He didn't feel in need of shelter so this didn't interest him. However, Magnus continued by bringing up a good point; such a place needed help to remain that way. Akkadian nodded as the man talked, taking in his words thoughtfully, but also noting that he said them simply and honestly.
Then Magnus suggested he visit both places to gather a better opinion as to which kingdom would suit him best. This was a sensible stallion, indeed. Akkadian had to agree the idea had merit.
This is a wise proposition, and I will do as you recommend. He bowed his head respectfully to him, before looking to Josie once more. What was your name..
He held her gaze in his for a long, quiet moment, then looked away, focusing on nothing in particular as he pondered how to respond. He had debated on simply taking up a new name since he was now in a new world where no one would know him anyway. He could be whoever he wanted to be, no longer held by the expectations of a name. Not many came with such expectations, even in his culture, but his did. He suspected it had a great deal to do with the fact he wasn't the king's and queen's legitimate son. He decided against it though, fearing such a claim would dishonor the only family he knew.
It is more a title than a name, he began. He grimaced at his words, feeling as though he'd said too much already, and went silent. It was true, though; it could be compared to a king naming his bastard daughter "Page" as she performed a page's duties, receiving and delivering messages for the king and the like. Only, his was gravely more important as it involved life and death. In truth, the similarities ended there. He was probably just being self-conscience about it now that he knew the reality of his birth. The king had kept it secret and he'd grown up believing he really was their family.
He was raised by a king, he reminded himself. When they could have turned him to a different family, or even killed him (not an uncommon outcome), they had accepted him. He had been given the privileges of a prince, the education of one, and the even further education of war tactics and techniques that princes did not receive. He had been selected for this, built for it. And the great king would not take such a thing lightly. Akkadian shouldn't either. He was trained for a purpose, and he would continue that in honor of everything they'd done for him, as the warrior they crafted with great care. He had been chosen. He was the Guardian.
His expression hardened, standing tall. The trace of doubt left his eyes as he turned back to them, something else entirely glinting like steel within their depths.
I am called Akkadian-Shakkad.
His voice tolled, strong and solid. And there was a fortitude to his name, a deep undertone of power that reverberated through to his soul. As if in saying it, he had said everything he had accomplished thus far, and everything he believed in.
But also, a vow for everything he would become.
ooc: feel free to reply or(/and then) he will follow you to your homes ^.^
![[Image: gqYjsHr.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/KjqNDKxc/gqYjsHr.png)
