#writingevilOCsisfun

[kuzhukdotharl]

Strength

~Many years ago...~

The boy stood there in front of The Burned House. The black figure stood like an obelisk of shadow, the flickering flames illuminating his stern and grizzled features as he looked at the entrance to the tent. The cool night time winds of the Azim Steppe whispered sweet nothings into his ear as he waited patiently to be summoned before the High Council, he would be the last to undergo the Rite of Naming and become a Man in the eyes of the tribe.

For sixteen summers, he had toiled and grown both in skill and power, much to the chagrin of his tribemates. He had waited for this moment, for the time when he would finally receive his true name and ride with the warband against the enemies of the Dotharl. He had dreamed about this night since he was a youngling, running through the green fields with Khorgany. All those memories and past summers felt like a distant age though as he now waited in anticipation, the tales of his father howling in his mind. Tonight, he took his first real steps to finding the Dusk Mother.

“Enter, O youth of the plains. Stand before your tribe” an old yet firm voice called from within the tent. His heart racing, Kuzhuk stepped forwards and entered The Burned House.

A barrage of incense and smoke met the boy as he came into the sacred meeting place of tribe members past and present. The dark tent was lit only by the large bonfire that raged in its center, a pillar of smoke rising directly upwards and exiting through a hole in the roof. The heat of the roaring flame could not compare though to the burning gazes that Kuzhuk felt pierce into his very soul as he stepped up to the flames to be judged. The various heads of the tribe were present, all adorned in the traditional garments of their station, each wearing the mask of their next life. Sitting in the back, the boy swore he could see the figure of his father, who wore the mask of the red hawk. Kuzhuk dared not look to his teacher and father though, to do so would be weakness, and in this time of judgment, that was something that he could not afford to be shown.

Opposite form he, on the other side of the bonfire, stood a singular figure who wore a mask engraved with the markings of an owl. Her statuesq state and steady gaze was unnerving. This was Nüürsnii Nüd, Coal Eyes, the Elder Seer of his kin. The Xaela woman held her bone staff tightly, leaning on it to alleviate her lame leg, the flames casting a ballet of dancing shadows across her contours. “Who stands before us? We who bring salvation to the meek” Coal Eyes said, her voice filling the silent chamber, the crackle of the bonfire her only competition for dominance.

“It is I, Kuzhuk, son of Khüchirkheg, child of the green sea, first of my name borne unto the Dotharl” the boy said loudly, returning the dominant voice with one of his own as he stood tall. His 7’8 form cut a truly intimidating figure, and apparently, he was still growing - though this did not seem to faze Coal Eyes in the least. Instead, the woman continued the Rite as was common. “O youth of the green sea, you stand before the spirits of our brood who have seen you grow. The time has come for them to reveal to you your true soul, one free of this mortal coil. Will you stand and be judged?” the woman asked, earning a swift, “I shall”. With a small grin that caused a small flurry of surprise, Coal Eyes gave a nod, “Then let the spirits guide us towards the immortal truth”

The seer hissed as she threw what looked like dust of some sort into the bonfire, causing it to bellow with new life and begin to slowly change colors. Blue, green, black, and more filled the spacious tent as all eyes seemed to focus in on the flame, waiting for what revelation the seer would provide for them. “I see… Rage, power, unlimited potential, the trappings of the most revered of our kin” Coal Eyes said as she stared into the flame, seeing what the spirits decreed and saw within the boy. These words filled him with a sense of pride, a feeling of heat that the fire could ill hope to match. “In you lies more than just a warrior, I see both an unstoppable force and an immovable object melding into one. The salt sea crashing against the mighty crags of the coast, neither yielding in their immortal conflict” Coal Eyes decreed. The years of immeasurable training and warring felt like distant memories as the boy let a confident yet small smile creep up onto his face.

“-and yet, for all the light of these flames, I see a terrible darkness clinging to you, vapors of unbelief that distance you from communing with our kin and the spirits” Coal Eyes said, her voice firm and steadfast as she peered into the flame of many colors. The smile on Kuzhuk’s face disappeared, a feeling of dread coming forth as his mind raced with a million questions. What did the seer mean by darkness? How could she see unbelief in him when he was a zealot amongst their kin? How was he blind to his kin and their eternal spirits? A cold sweat broke out from the man’s brow as he tried to reconcile these accusations in his mind, a ripple of murmuring flowed across the room. He was here to be judged, his tribe his jurors, he could not show weakness here.

In matters of the spirit, the Seer had made her divination, now, it was to the various heads of the clan to whom matters of secular insight came from. Kuzhuk could only watch as his father, Shonkor Orgil, Falcon’s Peak, rose and approached the bonfire. It was he who now would reconcile for the seer his observations, and it was he who Kuzhuk hoped would alleviate this strange turn of events. Yet, as the colorful flames illuminated the old warrior’s grizzled and scarred body, his red mask seemed more predatory and hostile as it gazed at the boy, disapproving almost of the prey who couldn’t manage to even scamper away back to the shadows. “Here me now, my brothers and sisters, for I, Falcon’s Peak, will bridge the dissonance between spirit and son, and attempt to explain the discordance that fills this troubled youth’s soul” the intimidating man said, his voice booming around the tent, his silver eyes looking into an identical pair with utter contempt.

For once in a very long time, Kuzhuk felt a chilled hand of fear grip at his very soul. His heart raced as his felt his father look into his eyes with such utter disgust, it was enough to make the normally dominant boy look away and into the flame. He still struggled to understand what was going on. In a blur though, his father had crossed the distance between them and grabbed onto his arm like a vise, holding it out to the flame to see and illuminate his open palm. It was only in this movement that the boy realized what it was his father now made evident to the clan. “Behold! The mark of a blood oath, a scarred and permanent pact between two spirits that lasts far beyond the confines of this meager life!” Faclon’s Peak shouted, an uproar of disapproval erupted within the tent. Blood oaths weren’t only taboo, they were binding in the eyes of the Dusk Mother, never something to take lightly.

“Do you deny it?” Falcon’s Peak asked the boy, his silver eyes full of anger. “No, I do not” Kuzhuk stated through grit teeth. As a child who craved power, he now felt completely powerless. “It was a childish action, one made long ago and with the conscious and cluelessness that only a child could posess” the boy stated, this earned a sharp scoff from his father who publicly reprimanded him, “The Dusk Mother cares not for age. Life is eternal, our chapters but one of many in a never-ending book of reincarnation. You have sealed your existence towards your partner until the ends of time!” the man yelled. Kuzhuk shook in his sandals as he felt the raw and unadulterated wrath of Falcon’s Peak be unleashed upon him in a torrent of hate. “What’s worse is that this girl is not one of our own! A tribe-less curr who is little more than a beast clothed in rags!” this last part particularly enraged those in attendance. Such breaking of tradition was an outrage, a clamour of anger now erupted as the elders of the Dotharl stood to their feet and began shouting. Some called for the boy to be killed, others demanded he complete a rite to absolve his black deed, and even others simply called for him to be tortured as an example. However, it was finally Coal Eyes who restored order.

“SILENCE!” she yelled, the colorful flames bellowing out in a surge that alarmed the elders into submission. The seer stood tall and in control as she looked at the father and son who were now locked in silent conflict. The young man felt his blood run cold, his silver gaze meeting the only matching pair that this world knew. As calm was restored within the yurt, Coal Eyes looked through the wisps of the hearth to Kuzhuk. ”I am udgan, and I shall speak the will of those undying who are present in spirit instead of body” she hissed, verbally castrating the men as they were cowed back to their seats. Shoncor Orgil returned to his own post as well, watching, as always through his thinly layered mask of contempt.

Coal eyes spoke with her usual old and coarse voice, “Oh youth of the grass. You have lost your path. Your body is strong, but your heart remains weak and docile. This does not need to be, poor child, we, your tribe, will make you whole again” she promised, hobbling around the fire slowly, her shadow dancing brilliantly against the sides of the yurt. Kuzhuk forced his gaze to remain looking forwards, even as the creeping voice of the udgan drifted closer and closer to his horn. “Close your eyes, my child. Speak now what strength means to you” she commanded, to which he complied. “It is unstoppable power: to crush our enemies, and to hear the lamentation of the women. We undying revel in the glory of war, it is the natural order” he stated, earning a few nods of approval from some of the younger members of the council who had earned their names. This reply seemed to earn a small chuckle from the wise woman, “So they say” she clicked with a prompt swish of her tail.

“You would say that your undying fire is one purely physical, you neglect one half of your essence” she instructed, moving around him slowly as it inspecting him for the smallest chink in his skin which she could pry open and expose his fragility to all. “Strength is not a goal to strive for, it is a dogma, a scripture that your heart must follow in its entirety. We kill, we raid, we do these not because we like to, but because we must. The weak must be given mercy, it would be a crime against all nature to allow them to live a miserable life, what we do to them, we do out of kindness. To cull the inferior tribes, to wipe them away with the palm of our hands, to burn all impurities- such things leave only the strong. They are worthless, they should not be allowed to live such a pathetic life, to live and to die as sheep.” Coal Eyes explained, revolving around Kuzhuk as he stood there firmly, only her words and the warmth of the fire seemingly reaching his fermenting mind.

“To give mercy is to leave the weak alive only to die and suffer a meaningless existence. They bring no glory, no purpose. What we do, as the strong, as the undying, is to prove to Nhamma and to the spirits that we are not sheep. We prove to them with our hearts and our bodies that we are eternal, within us is a fire that will consume all, such is our duty, our purpose- our strength” she finished, at last coming to a halt behind the large ebony form of Kuzhuk. He had remained unnervingly still, like an obelisk caught between the flames of the familiar and the whispers of something far deeper that he only now tried to confront. The summers of adventures with Khorgany, with his childhood friend, they all felt like distant vapors slipping with his mind, like lies, like wasted time. It was only now, standing here in this yurt, facing the immortal flame before him, that he slowly felt a new sensation course through his very being: revelation.

“I see it. It hides in my heart, holding me back from what you speak” he replied slowly. He did not need to see the udgan’s face to feel the smile that was silently etched into his flesh. “You need only speak that malformation that corrupts you. Together, as a tribe, you shall be made pure by the flame, and only then, will you become a man” Coal eyes promised with a small grin as she looked to the bonfire in the center of the yurt. The words came slowly to his lips, like an eternity passing for each syllable as he spoke them, “Khorgany Novsh” he grunted. Those within the yurt repeated his proclamation in a chant, “Khorgany Novsh”. He could feel the heat of the flame warm him suddenly, more so than before, like he was only feeling it now for the first time since entering the yurt.

“KhorganyNovsh” he repeated, his voice grunting and speaking the name all at once, as if doing so would exercise her corrupting memories from his mind once and for all. Again, the tribe repeated, blurring the words even more, “Khoganovsh” they said. Kuzhuk could feel his heart beating more rapidly as the heat of the fire increased, seemingly ignoring all barriers of flesh and touch to instead scorch his heart. He could feel them, the licks of flame burning him from the inside out. Coal Eyes nodded in approval as she saw the small twitches and spasm’s on the boy’s face. “Khorgovsh” he rushed out, his fists tightening until his knuckles turned white from rage. “Khorvosh” the tribe repeated in unison. This cycle continued, his voice, his memories of her name and of their days devolving into an incoherent mess. It was like the flame was melting a part of him away, and with each utterance of her name, the heat reduced his mind into less of what it once was, breaking it down. “Khorsh”, turned into “’Osh”, which in turn became only unspeakable babble until, at last…

All was lost, and silence then reigned.

Coal Eyes presided once again from her perch on the other side of the fire, “Youth of the grass, the spirits see you now, they recognize you amongst the eternals. Your name amongst us, and all others shall be your true name: Burged Altan, The Eagle of the Crimson Dawn!” the udgan proclaimed. The yurt hollered and yelled in approval, the boy had proven himself, he was one of them, he was a man. Kuzhuk heard her judgement and could only reply with a small nod, his gaze locked onto the smoldering embers of the hearth.

At last, he had found purpose. He had found peace.