#and she makes sure raka has no trouble in the woods :)

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #14: Telling

She set down her glass as she let her thoughts dissipate into the night like smoke. Her fingertips mimed flicking away a cigarette. Her breath left her lips in a fog of cold. She pushed herself out of her chair. She took her cane.

The night took her in with love, its moonlit caresses of dusky skin and white-greyed hair her birthright and relief from the warmth of alcohol in her veins. Something to cool her cold skin. Something to give her back some modicum of her mind and sanity. Just some. Her cane lit from its crystal head as she stepped off the path. Into the wood itself. Something that was, by all rights, incredibly deranged in all minds. Even in one that was partially drunk and very distracted by its own thoughts. The Twelveswood at night was not a friendly home. Even during the day things prowled in the darker edges of the forest, but in the night they woke and they wandered. It would be easy to call it hubris as she walked as if with an old friend. Monsters that kept just out of sight. Voidsent that crossed the thin veil. Old creatures in the dark woods that preyed upon anything that wasn’t themselves. The Shroud was a veritable goldmine for the unknown and the dangerous- Something that she supposed would be a frequent source of missing persons and dead thrillseekers. More than there were already. It was difficult to grapple with the nature of the wood they lived in and the reality that it, in some ways, very much did not want them there. Such it was that they heeded the Elementals and all that they could do so that they might have some peace. Her own experience as a Hearer notwithstanding on her bias. Her own experience with the other denizens definitely withstanding on her bias.

Rakaso dimmed the light of her cane as she stepped deeper into well-rooted and over the well-rotted of the trees. Her steps carried her with a surety unbefitting of her mind in that moment and most certainly of the path she’d chosen to take. But it wasn’t long, no, and it wasn’t far. Things on the edge of the light that came close as it dimmed. Things that kept themselves within the blind spot of her eyes. Things that crept in the bough above. A hand on her shoulder. The light died at the smell of decay embracing her like a friend.

Rakaso didn’t speak often of the things that lived in the deep woods. There was no story to tell. No warning to give. No words of wisdom that could truly prepare someone for the things which so oftentimes haunted life like a nightmare. How do you warn someone against the stranger at the crossroads, the beast which is not as it seems, the cloud of shadow that can hang over a river and fill you as a miasma? To most, these are tales. To others, explainable phenomena. To the last, they are neither. A fact of life. To be avoided like one avoids a tornado, a flood, a hail of fire from the sky. You simply hoped you did not encounter them. You took reasonable measures. And you prayed whatever death that came with them was merciful. She sometimes wished she was so lucky to be so unknowing. But in other ways she was glad. So it was as she stood in a clearing of the woods, a creek running by her feet, and a stump upon which sat a… dear friend of hers. A woman at first glance. Similar to her. Perhaps even kin, one might surmise, as they might see them in the woods. But it only took a moment’s breath to watch longer and see more. To watch skin rot off, eyes to fade, flesh to fold in ways that could only be described in words not able to be formed by teeth and tongue. Sometimes there were only a set of eyes opposite her, ilms away, an inky black darkness that only served to brighten the pale moonlit gold of Rakaso’s own. Sometimes there was nothing but flesh that barely managed to maintain a person-like shape. Sometimes there were only teeth. And they were laughing. Oh they were laughing and speaking and telling tales. Rakaso was, in a way one might find solace in the presence of a beast which had chosen not to slay them where they stood, enjoying herself. And the other across from her could only be called ecstatic in this.

It was telling that nothing intruded. No prying eyes. No hidden ears. They were stood in a clearing in the Twelveswood. In the cold, quiet night. Her light dead. Nothing laid in wait. The duskwight across from her licked her acrid lips. Her breath smelled of rot. The bones in her mouth smiled darkly with life. The blood on her face smelt of death. Her teeth poked up through the dirt like headstones. But they did not close around the two of them. They had shared too many graves for that.

[autumnpawtribe]

The Spirit of the Greatmother

The fire was set up inside the little hut Jocamo kept now outside Dazar'alor.  It was the home of their ancestor's nativity and close enough to Bwonsamdi's realm that she might come more willingly than in the Echo Isles or Hillsbrad.  She had connection to this land and was a staunch worshiper of the Loa of Graves.  The ritual was Uncle Jack's idea, since he had no earthly clue where the artifact had gone.  The questioning of the heretical abbess and her abomination of a minion was fruitless.  The artifact had not been in the old Shaman's belongings either after her death.  None of the errant and living children of the Old Oracle apparently had it either.  It was needed now, the last time it was seen having been when Vahari's daughter Ki'la had been given her name. 

What they sought was the book that held the names of the old Farseer's descendants, and the rituals for naming, dedication and death in the old ways.  With a new infant in the family, it was needed once again and mysteriously disappeared after Ki'la's naming and Han'dali's death.

Kit and Jocamo had set up the bowls and incense, Hari had brought the sacrifice, which no one said anything about nor questioned.  Reshka had been tasked with gathering wood and Vol'raka with the words needed and the sacrifice itself..  He'd spent too long with elves, pandaren, and others.  He needed to remember that he was a troll and all that entailed.  He had left Tiny with Xiao for the day and told him to not ask questions when he returned.  There was no room for argument in Vol'raka's voice when he left.

The flesh that was in the bowl smelled heavily of dwarf.  The Dark Iron Male struggled little when Vahari did what she did best.  It knew nothing of its death and probably only remembered the moments before it was taken from Boralus.  Vahari's knowledge of a clean death and quick kill was useful in many circumstances.  She claimed it meant the meat was not sour when she would take the body back to the Echo Isles for her family that evening.  “Fear makes it taste off.”

The wood smelled sweet and Kit praised Reshka for what was chosen.  She'd learned well in seeing rituals to call spirits before and had picked that which would smell sweetest and call out the old Farseer from the Other Side.  Kit'raka's herbs were sweet as they filled the air, set off and flavored by the salt of the Great and South Seas.  All things had been chosen to call more than one spirit, though not everyone wanted speak to one that they would call upon.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

"Farseer Azu'lana.  Servant of Bwondsamdi and Oracle of Nyx.  We seek you for your knowledge.  I, your grandson Vol'raka Raptorblood, Vol'raka Shadow's Son, ask that you come."

The big troll was bowed low beside the fire, arms forward and head to the bare floor.  His war paint was gone, replaced by ash bound by the blood of their dwarven sacrifice.  His chest was bare, and his kilt one he had not worn in a long time, since he had last led a true ritual to send his father to Bwonsamdi's care.  His words were a true song, a steady beat and soft dance of tongues as he spoke, the language he had been raised to speak.  He'd coached his cousin heavily to make sure her accent was not too terribly off.  They didn’t need to annoy or call some spirit she didn't quite mean to. 

"Greatmother Azu.  We seek you for your wisdom.  I, your granddaughter, Iresh'ka Daughter of Rhunak'hor, ask you to come to guide my cousin." As the Mag'har girl knelt, she kept her arms tucked up next to her chest,  palms down and head bowed against the ground.  She had Vahari braid Star Moss into her hair, the earthy smell mingling with the smoke that was thick in the air, adding to the scent of the herb that Kit'raka had provided.  

Vahari knelt with her arms out, letting the heat of the fire lick her hands.  She relished in the feeling of pain along her skin and let the feeling flow into her words.  She had called spirits many times before, just not these three in particular.  "Father, Un'lai Shadowsear.  We seek you for your guidance and the benefit your granddaughters.  I, your daughter, Vahari Hearteater, daughter of Han'dali, Ask you to come "

Kit'raka's head was bowed, but not low.  Her eyes were closed and the elements came to her with her part of the song.  Fire and water danced in her hands, earth swirling before her, wind teasing along her long braided blue-black hair. 

"Azu'lana, daughter of Saren of the Zandalari.  We seek you for your power, that which you gifted your blood.  I, your daughter, Kit'raka, born of the Redwalker, I ask you to come."

"Sister, Handali.  We seek you for your stubbornness.  I, your brother Jocamo of the Raptari, Son of Azu'lana, demand you come."  Jocamo stared into the fire, the flames dancing in his amber eyes.  He had no fear and could demand that his twin came.  They were blood bound to Bwonsamdi at birth, though he had left the teachings of Death for that of the Master of Shapes.  He had told his sister and niblings quite plainly that he would ‘make the old bitch do as she was told for once’.

The flames danced and turned grey slowly, the song now taken over by spirits. 

The five that surrounded the fire sat up, Hari and Reshka’s job to maintain the beat of the song until the trinity of spirits came.  Intent on learning, the orc watched her cannibal cousin as Hari helped her maintain the pitch and tone that the old language was based upon.  

The three that came forward were as far apart in demeanor as could be.  The male troll, small and obviously Darkspear was grinning brightly as he sat between his son and daughter  his head was bald and he looked only barely older than his youngest son, green skin once again unmarred by the ravages of shadow that had taken his life.   “Someone got laid….  Cute kid, Little Raka. Takes after her grandfather, I can tell.”

His wife materialized between her brother and sister with the most sour look on her face, glaring at Jocamo as her grass green and sun-gold hair flowed down in a loose river over her back.  She sat between her brother and sister, arms crossed and pouting.  “Shut up, Un’lai.  That abominable spawn does not deserve that sweet girl.  If I didn't know better..”

“Say nothing, Han’dali.  You will regret any words of negativity or hate against anyone in this circle.  Your brother called you in peace, do not break that peace.” The old farseer smiled as she materialized above the fire and floated to settle between her adopted granddaughter and her giant of a grandson.  “They mean you no harm, so neither should you mean them any.  No sense in being a bitch, daughter.”  Azu’lana smiled, her younger image gazing between those who had gathered.  This woman was Zandalari born and bred.  Tall, thin and not quite willowy, with blue-gray fingers that ran through spiked up bright violet hair, the amber eyes that all of her children and grandchildren had inherited giving the full effect of her smile.  All of them knew to trust, but be wary of the farseer.  Grandmother or not, her wrath was terrible when crossed.  Vol had sincerely hoped that she would be able to help them.  The command she seemed to have still reassured him greatly.

“Now.  Business, I have no intention of being in the mortal world more than I need to.  Tell us what you seek, we will tell you what you wish to know.” “Within the bounds!  I mean, yeah just because Vol got himself a peice of Zandalari ass…”  Un’lai nearly cackled to himself.  “Thre are rules, you know the rules of calling.  We can only do so much, ya know.”

“By the ancestors, Un’lai!”  Han’dali looked appalled and swatted at her husband with a spectral hand.  “You will corrupt Little Iresh’ka with your filth!  She does not need to hear about your disgusting proclivities.”

“Azu!  Are you sure this one was not raised by elves, I was saddled with frigidity…”  Un’lai scowled, not something he usually did.  “Of all your daughters, you gave me this one.”

The Mag’har woman just rolled her eyes as Jocamo and Kit laughed at their sister and her husband's continued bickering.  It was well known that Un’lai had wanted another and would have waited for the younger daughter, but the mating had been dictated by a Loa and would not be undone.  Everyone knew who that younger daughter was Kit’raka.  

“Oh shut up, Dali.  She is not little ANYTHING.”  Kit smiled at the half-orc girl and then looked back at the spirit of her older sister.  “Trust me, She’s got a mate, Un’lai is the least of the corruptions.  Of all trolls, you act most like a passionless human.  How you two produced seven children, I will never know.  For right now, can you two both please focus on the here and now, not whose cock is fuckin who or what?”

The spirit of Han’dali went to open her mouth before she was silenced by her mother’s sharp tongue.  “Not another word from you, Han’dali.  I told you plainly.  I do not wish to be here.  Say no more unless a question or task is asked of you.”  The spectral druid looked away, shaman and shadow priest actually turning to business.  “Speak your request, children.  I will not give you much time for this.”

“Your book is missing.”  Reshka blurted out the words, the spirits turning to look at the little mag’har girl.  Her hands went to her mouth, covering them up as if she knew she would be in trouble.  Jack shook his head right along with Azu’lana’s, Un’lai and his children stifling laughter.  Kit’s shoulders were shaking with holding back her own giggles.  The girl scowled, looking between all the trolls that she had know for her teen years.  “I’m.. “

“She’s as impetuous and impulsive as her mother, that hot little Sin’dorei.  If only my brother had not snapped her up first.  Should have taken more than one wife….”  Reshka turned red with fury, Azu’lana’s gaze at the shadow priest’s apparition.  “Don’t look at me like that.  She has an ass that won’t quit.”

Reshka’s face kept the scowl as Azu’s voice boomed through the room.  “Enough.  Un’lai.  Silence!  We will forgive the child for her words.  She will say NO MORE!”  The scowl fell from the huntress’s face as she looked away.  Azu’s tone became angry as she turned to the one who began this call to her when she did not wish to be there.  Vol stiffened up and stared his grandmother down hard.  This was his job and it was now at the hard part.

“Speak, Raptorblood.  Make this worth my while.  You have a great granddaughter of mine, and for that I came.  Speak your words, ask your question.”  

“Where is the Book of Rites, written by You as Oracle of Nyx, as Matriarch of our family.  We are in need of the rite of names and dedication.”  His voice was strong and rang out, not demanding outright, but making sure his request was heard and heeded.

Azu’lana smirked, waving her hand dismissively.  “You did not need it for the child’s birth.  You knew those well enough.  They were not OUR traditions, but you made do.”

“I had too little time to track it down.  The ritual used was of her mother’s family.  The child is no longer hers, and it is MY right to name my daughter.  The book is not with your things, No one has seen it since Ki’la was named and I am going to name my daughter properly.  Kit has agreed to help on the day of the ritual, but..”  He sat up straight, looking the old shaman directly in the face.  This was an old woman who respected strength of character, loyalty to the family, especially the ones you choose for yourself.  Excuses were nothing to her, she wanted to know plain and clear what was wanted.  She craved solid things, not honey sweet words.  He knew how to get what he needed from his grandmother, he needed to show he had not forgotten.  

“I will name my Child.  Either she can be named as the rest of her kin, or I will find my own ritual and bind her to her Loa on my own.  Your call, Mama Azu.  She is your great grandchild, and I know how selfish you are over those born of your blood.”

That made the shaman spirit smile brightly.  “Vol’raka still has the spirit he was born with.”  She turned her face to Un’lai and then Han’dali.  “It is your son who took the book from my things.  I task you two to find him.”  

The five living ones in the room blinked as both druid and priest disappeared.  Azu’lana smiled toward her grandchildren, her son and daughter sitting in relaxation. “Now that they are gone and off to do something productive, I will tell you my prophecies.  Vahari, a good choice that shifter.  I expect more great grandsons from him.”  Her gaze rested on Iresh’ka, letting her eyes soften.  “Let no one give you shit over your mother.  She may one day be a good mother to her brood.  She has to find out once again how to be at peace.  One day you may forgive her, but I am not sure you will forgive her your ancestry.”   Finally she settled on her grandson.  The hunter took his height from his grandfather, her amani mate nearly as tall as her gentle giant grandson.  She’d favored the boy, if only the reason being that his mother actively despised him.  “You do not get to keep the book.  Vahari will keep it in her care.  Your brother Alash’zu has the book, he thinks that it is his.  He may have been my apprentice, but he is an idiot.

“Listen all who hear my voice, for I will not speak of it again.  There are to be five that will be called by their own.  Jani, Gonk, Pa’ku, Bwonsamdi and the Shadowhunter will call upon each in turn and in kind.  Some are born, some are not, but all will know who calls their service.  Old ways must be taught.  They must be brought up in that strength.”

Azu’s voice quieted as Han’dali and Un’lai came back, the druid huffy and Un’lai laughing hysterically.  “That idiot took it to the Maelstrom.  He thinks it will be safe and no one else in the family will come looking there.”

Azu sighed loudly, pointing at Kit’raka then to Reshka.  “Like it will be safe there.  You two get to bring my book back.”  Vol and Hari both scowled as Azu spoke, confused as to why Iresh’ka.  “Tomorrow, Kit’raka.  She needs training anyway.  Spirits do not come as well as they should for her and only being a wolf is not enough.”

With that, all three phantoms disappeared,  Vol’raka and Vahari eyeballed between Kit and Reshka.  The older female smiled and stood.  “Just because she's elf doesn’t mean she didn’t inherit shit from her father too.  Someone found their latent ability to call elements.  I’ve been lax in finding her a teacher, guess its my time to teach you how to be a Shaman, huh kid?”