#Little Jori the Kentaur

[therabidjackalope]

Nightmares And Dreamscapes

The sleeper moaned softly and twitched in sleep. Eyes rolled restlessly beneath closed lids as if to escape their darkened champers. From tangled lashes, a single tear slipped free. Haunted by visions, the restless dreamer slowly reached out a hand, as if seeking rescue. Lips quivering, a single word escaped into the world, but faded quickly, as if too timid to break the silence.

“Awa.”

The sleeper frowned deeply, drowning worries of the future in sorrows of the past. The clang of metal and shouts of battle protected ears from an oppressive silence. Words came like waves on the sea, approaching swiftly before tumbling over and washing away. Colors flashed as spells were cast, but the dreamer was trapped in glue and could not affect the scene as it played out, just as it did every time eyes were closed. Faintly, a voice that crackled like dry parchment begged the still night for one single favor.

“Save them.”

The sleeper's mouth opened in a silent scream, but no sound could escape. Muscles tense with a need for action, they could only twitch and thrash as the nightmare took hold, wrapping a tired mind in tendrils of guilt and fear. Fingers clenched and flexed, desperately trying to claw free of the dream without success. A denial was sent out into the night, but the message was lost in a passing breeze.

“No.”

The sleeper's body made no movement to betray the pain within. A mask of serenity glossed an agony too deep to feel. Tired and broken, the dreamer sent one wish into the darkness, with no hope of it being granted.

“Peace.”

The sleeping druid sighed softly. More tears escaped her tightly shut lids, leaving slimy trails down her muzzle as they fled. Her legs twitched in the waking world as she walked in the dream. She wore helplessness like a cloak against the cold, wrapping it tightly around herself, but still she shivered from the chill.

Once more a milk calf, the druid was surrounded by flames and destruction. Smoke clogged her lungs and stung her eyes. Flames singed her fur. All around her was chaos, but she saw none of it. “Awa.” She said softly, the single word a pleading, a command and a question all at once. “Sun.” She said again, but the sun stubbornly refused to rise. As did the still form lying a few feet away.

The jruu tossed restlessly in the grip of sleep. In his dream, he was surrounded by the chaos of war. Fires ringed him and the clang of steel striking steel sang out like a melody. Blood soaked the ground around his feet and bodies of friend and foe alike lay strewn about the blood-soaked soil. He tried to call out, but his voice choked in his throat. He tried to run, but the sucking mud held fast to his feet.

And suddenly he heard a familiar voice thrown into the air behind him. “Give no quarter, men! The savages must die!” Familiar words from so long ago tore at his soul with jagged teeth. He turned to see a man rushing toward him, sword drawn and shield held high. A robed figure ran at his side. He knew them both, and knew that there was nothing he could do to stop what was about to happen next.

The druid thrashed in her sleep, her black fur seeming to melt into the shadows of the night until they seemed to become one in the same. Her cries and protests fell on deaf ears, failing to free her from the prison of her own mind. Woven into a tapestry of pain, she could not pause long enough to see that it was her own hand doing the weaving.

Claws raked flesh made of shadows while teeth tore into fleeing illusions, but no matter how hard she fought, she never seemed to make any progress. Still her prize was pulled further and further away while she struggled to keep from falling too far behind. Fear and rage fueled her strength, but the enemy fed from the same pool, and she was helpless against herself.

Taiyra toddled closer to the fallen figure, her tiny body growing bigger with each step. “Sun?” She asked even as she grew into herself, her stride lengthening and yet somehow never quite managing to reach her destination.

“Mother?” She finally cried, crashing to her knees beside the forever stilled form. “Mother? Can you stand?” But she received no answer to her inquiry. “Please get up.” She reached out to touch the figure, but suddenly her arms felt too short, and no matter how hard she tried, the doe's body remained just out of her reach. “AWA!” She screamed the word once more, wielding it like a magic word meant to bring back the dead. But it was not her mother's voice that finally answered her.

“So, dere be survivahs hea afterall.”

Taiyra turned, and she was a milk calf again. Sitting astride a large beast sat an agwa, his hair red as flame and skin blue as if with chill. He watched her with golden eyes soft with sympathy. She knew this jruu, the one that saved her from every nightmare. Her savior. Her guardian. She tried to speak, to ask him his name, but all that came out was “Awa?”

“She be gone, littah one. Come wit me, now. Come, littah moarnah. I take you some place safe, yah?” He reached out his arms, somehow able to reach her without ever dismounting, and the doe went with him willingly. In his strong arms she found safety. Curled up against his chest, she found solitude.

The dreamer stilled, and then smiled.

Tesio could only watch helplessly as the two men approached, the warrior protecting the robed figure whose spells gave safety and health. One after another, orks, agwa and elves fell to his blade. All who came against him were slain.

The dead began to pile up around him, trampled under foot as the two men advanced. Book open, the robed figure chanted endless with one hand upraised. The warrior had a soft golden glow about him, magical protection making him arrogant.

Arrows and spears were like teeth of some giant predator, but they broke harmlessly against his magical shell. Swords flashed like lightening, but his crashed like thunder. Axes bounced off his great shield and bodies crumbled under his great strength. “Honor will be ours this day!” He cried out, his words a banner of glory.

But unseen behind him a single arrow flew. Striking the wizard in the back, his golden magic faded with no words to feed upon. “Fredrick!” the man turned to his injured companion, failing to deflect the blade that pierced his armor. He spun to strike down the ork that had wielded it, his own blood painting the creature's face as it fell, but more swords were waiting behind that one.

The jruu could only look on helplessly as the two men were savaged and finally left to die of their wounds. As the wizard slowly reached out to his companion, his whispered words echoed up through memory to ring loudly in the jruu's ears. “You...” Fredrick groaned. “You can still... save us all.... Tesio.”

The human tried to reply, but his breath bubbled out through the leaking holes in his chest and no words would come forth. The jruu's own chest constricted in sympathetic pain.

Fredrick clung tightly to his book and muttered a soft chant, his hand glowing a moment before transferring to the dying man beside him. With the warrior's last breath, the glow leapt from his body to that of a nearby corpse.

The agwa gasped for breath as he came to life. Fredrick smiled and then fell still. The newly woken agwa sat up slowly, confused, then looked around himself. Upon spotting the bodies of the two men, he rose swiftly to his feet and rushed over to pull Fredrick into his arms. “No!” He cried. “Don't you dare die on me!” But it was too late, for the wizard's life fed the thirsty ground.

“You can't die on me.” Both agwa said together, their voices echoing to each other. The agwa looked up, pleading, imploringly, into his own face. “Save them.” They echoed together.

Matna snarled in rage as she fought her enemy of shadow, but no matter how much ground she gained, she continued to lose so much more.

Far from her grasp, her family watched from a small puddle of light in the darkness. She struggled to reach them, but every step she took closer only seemed to send them two steps further away. The shadows clung to her like tar, tentacles of darkness wrapping around her limbs and blocking her path. Savagely, she tore at the darkness, her foes fleeing before her rage, but still more rose to take their place.

A dark wall of guilt and doubt continued to separate her from those she loved and she couldn't figure out how to break through. She could only watch helplessly as they faded further and further away, while her need to protect them only grew stronger. She couldn't let them out of her sight or she would lose them forever, but she couldn't free herself from the grip of her own selfish needs.

“No!” She roared out as her family finally faded from her sight. “Don't leave me! Please!”

Nadirah stood before an old ork in her dream. He glared at her with only one eye, a hyolf claw held around his neck by a thin cord of leather. “You were weak.” He growled the accusation.

“I was weak.” The doe agreed calmly.

“You were defeated.” The words were spat at her feet.

“I was defeated.” Nadirah echoed in further agreement.

The ork scowled at her, his face a mask of disdain. “There was no honor in your death.”

“But I fought well.” She argued weakly, her head falling until her chin rested against her chest.

“With all of your strength?” The ork asked.

“With everything.” She whispered.

“Then why are you not at rest?” The ork demanded. “Those who do not die with honor may never rest.”

“I was... for a time.” Nadirah sighed the words. “But then it was taken from me. And now I'll never find it.”

“Find what?” The ork demanded. “Your lost honor?” His lip curled in a sneer of disgust.

Nadirah's head rose slowly, her features slack in defeat. “Peace.”

The dwarf finished tying up his trousers as he wandered back into the camp. He nodded brief acknowledgment to the the dapple grey kentaur who stood guard over the sleeping forms before returning to his sleeping roll.

Only moments after he closed his eyes, his loud rumbling snore filled the air, his dreams filled with feasting and wine. After all, what else was there to dream about?

[therabidjackalope]

So, I came to a discovery about little Jori.

He would, in fact, NOT leave Nadirah if he met a comparable kentaur mare. But not for the reason you would think.

It's not because of any loyalty to Nadi. He cares for her, of course, as much as he can, but that's not why he'd stay and it's not why he stays now. And it's not because he's mad at his own race or anything either.

It's because he CHOSE her. So rather than being a loyal follower, Jori considers Nadi to belong to HIM.