#boacharacters

Liandros, Duli & Bel

The air in the king’s chambers was thick with perfume and sweat. Incense filled the room with smoke and other earthy scents, mixing with the sweet smell of wine and desserts, that swirled into Liandros’s nostrils. He opened his eyes and looked up. 

He was surrounded by a mass of naked bodies, men and women, and everything in between, of various ages and variety, were clumped together, sifting through each other in a drunken, sensuous trance. Liandros bit his lip, but slid across the silk mattress toward someone’s smooth backside. A head popped up from between their thighs, and grinned up at the king. 

“Hello, Majesty,” she chuckled. She was a beautiful girl, just barely a woman, with soft honey blonde hair and big doey, grey eyes. “Enjoying the view?”

Liandros grinned and played with a stray lock of her hair. “What was your name again, precious?”

“Father calls me ‘Eighty-four,” she said dryly. “But you may call me Duli, your Majesty.”

“Duli, you’re Sirosi; I can see it in your skin. The sun has kissed it just perfectly, and your work has done nothing to age you. You are beautiful, darling. Your genes reek of nobility.”

Jahal, Luwyn’s guardian

Luwyn picked at his stew. Jahal grumbled to himself across the table, eyeing Luwyn every other minute. Their eyes caught each other and another question popped into Luwyn’s mind, a familiar one. His lips formed the words out of habit. “Jahal,” he started, “why did we leave Rodan? Why did we come to this place?”

Jahal’s eyes opened quickly, and he sputtered and choked on his stew. “I’ve told you over and over,” he said between coughs. “It is ti-”

“‘It is time, Luwyn, it is time!’ You will give me a new answer, old man,” Luwyn spat. “You’ve ripped me from my homeland and shipped me to a new place, where I have to work harder than you do, and you still get to boss me around. You will tell me.” There was a fire in Luwyn’s eye, and Jahal saw it flicker. He knew Luwyn wouldn’t back down anytime soon.

He let out a deep sigh, tossed his spoon into his stew and leaned back in his chair so that the wood creaked and moaned.

“First of all, Rodan is not your homeland,” Jahal started. He scratched his chin and watched Luwyn’s face open with surprise. “You were born here, in Siros. We—you, your parents and I—moved to Rodan after…” He paused for a long time, as if choosing his next words carefully.

“After you were born, the previous ruler of Siros took power from her husband. King Miotus was starting his reign when he married the Lady Irona of Ioba, a powerful sorceress from the Isles of Magic. Their union brought about King Liandros. Miotus was killed when Liandros was a boy, and Irona took power for herself as Regent until her son was of age.”

“So we moved because my parents didn’t agree with the monarch?”

Jahal shook his head. “Irona’s regency was a dictatorship, and its sole purpose was to syphon the power from the Kingdom and the rest of Gaelenor. Fortunately, the queen died several years ago, and Liandros took the throne. No better, I say, but less ambitious than his mother. Irona wanted it all, Liandros seems to only want fancy clothes. “

Luwyn chuckled and looked down.

“I have wanted to return to Siros for nearly two decades, Lu,” Jahal whispered. He stared out of the window into the night sky, a dreamy look in his eye. “This isn’t just your homeland, Luwyn. It is also mine, and I have missed it dearly. The air in Rodan was stale. Inhale, boy. Breathe in the air you were meant to breathe. You are Sirosi, through and through. Never forget that.”

The Story of Mokur & Imak

“My head is killing me,” Garu croaked from the corner. He sat up slowly, and rubbed his forehead. “How are you two not miserable?”

“You’re overthinking, half-elf,” Vojamarsi’s smooth voice floated across the wagon. Luwyn didn’t notice him at first, but there he was, perched upon the seat of the wagon. His back was to them, but his head was turned halfway around, smirking. “Relax. You’re extremely uptight.”

Garu huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll relax when we’re on the ground.”

Luwyn blinked. “What do you mean?”

Garu didn’t look at Luwyn, he just pointed down. Luwyn peaked over the edge of the wagon, and saw anything but blue sky underneath them. He panicked gain. He turned back, clenching the sides.

“Why are we so high up?” Luwyn asked, panic shaking his voice.

Vojamarsi shrugged. “The only way to travel this fast is this high up. This wagon moves faster than any vessel in the world. Also...you do know that the Oru’kai is an ancient forest with many, many precautions to not be found?” Vojamarsi asked, an eyebrow raised. “And that it’s guardian, Jorr, can sense when trespassers are even looking for Oru’kai, much less on their way? Do you want to get to Oru’kai in fewer than two decades? Because that was your trajectory. Not to say you’ll survive your visit.”

Garu sunk into the wagon, a sour scowl on his face.

“Wait,” Luwyn said. “Jorr knows were coming?”

Vojamarsi chuckled and nodded. “Well, you know what they say...”

Luwyn shook his head and waited for a response. Vojamarsi leaned back and said nothing. Luwyn looked to Fila and she shrugged.

“Lighten up, Garu,” Fila chimed. “We’re on our way, making incredible time, with a lovely host. And all we have to pay him is a story.”

“Just because you’re flirting with the god of voyages doesn’t mean ours will be any smoother.”

Fila stuck her tongue out at Garu.

Vojamarsi chuckled and looked back at the trio. “You lot are funny,” he said. “Speaking of stories…”

Fila hopped up and clapped. “Yes! Everyone pay attention. This is the story of how Mokur, God of the Sea, met his queen, Imak.” She cleared her throat.

“Long ago, when the waves were young, Mokur Azsar, the Great Seaking, ruled over all the waters of the world. Son of the sea and sky, Az and Ky, Mokur was a spectacle. His blue-black tresses flowed down his back, his skin blue-green like seafoam. He was charged with the protection of the creatures of the deep, sailors and islands. But he was a lonely god, sitting on his throne alone, deep in his beautiful coral palace.”

“Wonderful! My grandfather in all of his glory,” Vojamarsi called out in dry tone.

“Anyway,” Fila continued after a quick glare at Vojamarsi. “One morning, Mokur set out on a routine patrol his kingdom. He woke up early that day, urged by something to search his waters. He spent the entire day patrolling, from to the shallows and beaches to the deepest pits of the ocean.

Mokur ventured to an uninhabited corner of the ocean, when a faint whine echoed through the water. It was pained, and Mokur’s heart began to ache when he heard it. He could smell fear and blood. Mokur followed the trails until he found a dolphin floating in the dark, murky waters. Mokur swam to the creature, and saw the wound in its side and blood streaming out.

A league away, a pair of hungry sea dragons, eels really, eyed the wounded beast. They wanted that kill, and wouldn’t let the Sea King get in their way. They thrashed their teeth at Mokur, a challenge to the god of the waves.

Mokur raised his mighty brow at the beasts and grinned. Soft spoken as always, Mokur swam forward without saying a word, and stared down the sea dragons. Her raised his mighty hands and brought them together. The sound of the clap was faint in the deep, only a muffled thump, but it sent a long, thin, horizontal current of water surfing silently toward the sea drakes.

The dragons snickered and sneered at Mokur. “With that, Azsar?” they mocked. “You will be us with a mere ripple?”

Mokur said nothing. He only grinned and chuckled quietly as he turned away, and swam back to the dolphin’s side.

The current sailed through the water, and the dragons swam to meet it. They rushed closer and closer together, until the current was inches from them. They puffed out their scaley chests to laugh again, when the current sailed through them, and left a red line on their chests.

The dragons did not laugh. They were silent for a moment. Then their bodies split into two pieces each. Their blood spread through the water.

Mokur grinned again, and turned his attention to the dolphin. He laid his hand upon the beast. ‘Be still now, child. I will heal you.’ And he did just that. Mokur pressed his hand onto the dolphin’s wound. It winced back. Mokur then gave the creature a portion of his power, the very thing that made him a god. The dolphin squirmed in his arms, then went still. The wound closed underneath Mokur’s palm.”

Fila leaned in, her eyes wide. “Then something amazing happened; the dolphin began to glow with a bright light that filled the depths. The light flickered out and Mokur uncovered his eyes to see the beautiful figure of a woman, complete with the marvous, colorful tail and fin. Her skin and eyes were pale blue, and her indigo hair rippled around her body.

‘Hello, Azsar,’ she whispered. Mokur floated in the water, his mouth agape. He was captivated by her beauty.

She swam toward Mokur, and held her delicate hands out for his. ‘You saved my life. Not only that,’ she said, grasped his large hands. ‘but, you have also given me a piece of your life. Life everlasting...will I need a new name, my king?’

Mokur shook his head. ‘Whatever you wish to be called, I would sing it from the deepest pits of the ocean, so that the monsters of the Void could hear me,’ he whispered.

‘I had a name...in my former life. Imak…’ she said.

Mokur nodded and spun her around. ‘And Imak you shall be!” the great god of the sea bellowed.

Mokur hoisted Imak in his arms, and took her back to his coral palace, and married Imak in front of every creature of the sea. Quiet Mokur has never been jollyer since meeting his bride.

Fila turned and grinned at Vojamarsi. The god of travelers nodded back from the front of the wagon and waved lazily.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Truly. My maternal grandparents’ story is a lovely, lovely tale. Did you know how my paternal grandparents story? The living black pit above us birthed the sky and the earth, and they popped out my father, Sofos. Romantic!” Vojamarsi chuckled and slapped his knee.

Fila shot a confused look at Luwyn. Luwyn only shrugged and grinned.

Garu clapped slowly. “Terrific story, Fila. Quite long. I did enjoy Vojamarsi’s quick tale, however, it was so wonderfully brief.”

{Tags}

Luwyn meets the Urkai

The cluster of horses enclosed around them. The woman in front still waved her spear in Luwyn’s face. Her face was marked with red and blue paint, and elaborate patterns swirled around her arms and thighs. She wore a tiara made of pale blue beads, and the same beads dotted her scarlet braids.

She thrust her spear out again. “You. Come with us.”

Garu stepped in front of Luwyn.

“He will be going nowhere with you,” Garu hissed. His swords were extended and he nearly growled at the woman.

She shook her head and curse and waved her spear’s blade at Garu’s neck. “Move, elf of Reilin. Your home is far from here.”

Garu shrugged. “I’m on a job. And that job is to protect this one here.”

She shook her head again. “Our job. He is our blood.” She turned and looked at Luwyn with large, sad, pale blue eyes. “My blood.”

Luwyn looked into her eyes, and stepped in front of Garu, ignoring his protests. The woman get off her horse and stepped closer to Luwyn. She was nearly a head taller than him, and thin muscle lines her arms and legs. She was an imposing figure, but her face was so tired and sad, as if she was remembering someone she had lost long ago.

Luwyn swung his pack around and pulled out the tattered little leather bound book that the strange old woman had given him at the Late Market in Siros. He flipped it open and turned to the page with the drawing of an Urkai tribesmen. Luwyn lifted the drawing next to the woman’s face. The red colored hair and dark skin matched, the pale blue eyes matched. He flipped to the next page and read a line. Horse lords who ruled the grasslands of Gaelenor.

“Asai,” Luwyn said fluently. The words snapped of his tongue, the pop echoed through the air.

The woman smiled and nodded. “U arume asai, me arume, me ara,” she sounded off in the god-tongue.

“What did she say, Luwyn?” Garu asked, calling Luwyn by his actually name for the first time in nearly a week.

Luwyn understand her just fine. He looked back at Garu. Fila smiled at Luwyn behind him and nodded.

“She said, ‘your family are asai, shaman. My family. My blood’,” Luwyn explained. He turned back to the woman. “Do you know someone named Kya?”

The woman’s chest swelled and her eyes watered until fat tears fell down her cheeks. She held her chin high, but Luwyn could see the tremble in her jaw.

“Me serr,” she said. “Te’o mar, te’o fe siir! Asha Anwe, asha Ise e Isani!”

Luwyn choked up. Tears pooled in his eyes as the woman stretched out her hands toward Luwyn.

“My name is Kaea,” she said. “Kya was my serr, my sister. Which would mean you are—”

They embraced, hugging each other hard, as if they hadn’t seen one another for a very long time. Luwyn cried into her shoulder. He hugged her for the father he never met, the mother he has never met, and the uncle he had lost. They embraced for what seemed like forever.

Tags and such

Luwyn meets Garu

what should have been Garu’s intro lol

Eight armored guards jumped out of the trees and highs shrubs, each with a long sword pointed at Luwyn.

“We found you, bastard!” one of them yelled.

“We’ll make this a quick death for you.”

Luwyn’s arms shook and his shoulders were locked into place. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t. Fear froze him in its cold grip, and his stomach plunged to his feet. This is where I’ll die, Luwyn thought. I didn’t even make it out of the kingdom…

A streak of grey and black soared over Luwyn’s head and landed in front of him. Luwyn recognized the pale grey skin, strange pointy ears and giant sword. It was the stranger he’d seen leaving the palace earlier. Before, he scowled at Luwyn and rolled his onyx eyes. Now he was between Luwyn and the guards, his own bow knocked and aimed at them, crouched like panther.

“And who are you—” the guard was cut off by an arrow through his helmet. He crashed to the forest floor, his comrades shifted away from his body.

The stranger rolled and shot another arrow through a guards chest plate before he could flinch. He stood and slid his bow through a strap on his back and drew his claymore. The metal was thick, solid and heavy, Luwyn could tell, but the stranger wielded it with ease. He swung it over his head, then lunged for a guard, knocking him to the ground with a knee. He swung his giant blade down like an executioner, and Luwyn heard a distinctive crack.

Another guard yelled and charged, but the stranger flipped back gracefully, and swung his sword down with his landing, cleaving through the guards armor, into his shoulder. The guard sputtered and landed on the ground, writhing.

The remaining guards looked at the scene with dismay. Luwyn could see their eyes through their helmets. Fear froze them the same way it froze him just minutes before. The stranger lunged before with guards could run away and jabbed his sword threw one of their backs, the tip sticking out of his chestplate. The stranger lifted the guard’s body and tossed him aside and slashed his sword back around, toward the last three. The blade sailed in the air, and his body and connected with the necks of two guards. The last one managed to duck and clattered away in his armor.

The stranger cursed, and jiggled his sword. The blood slid off the blade of water off of down feathers, and dribbled onto grass. The stranger stalked toward Luwyn, his eyes fixed onto the arrow pointed at his check. Luwyn backed away, and Fila stirred behind him.

“Luwyn, what’s going on?” Fila said, rubbing her head.

Luwyn shrugged.

“I’m not entirely sure. We were ambushed by the king’s guards, but then this…” Luwyn looked the stranger up and down. He wanted to call him a man, but his grey skin and pointy ears and inhuman grace suggested otherwise.

“...guy, jumps out of the bushes and kills nearly all of them.”

The stranger let out a rye chuckle. “I saved your life. You should be grateful, you know,” he said. His voice was full and monotone, but musical, like one long note.

Luwyn lowered his arrow an inch. “P-put your sword away, then. I can’t be sure you won’t cleave us in half with that thing.”

The stranger snorted. He swung his sword up and around and sheathed it in a scabbard on his back. Luwyn looked closely at his clothes; his sleeveless tunic and tights were leather, but looked as if they were made of leaves. Thick leaves, bound together with beautiful threadlike vines, embroidered with elegant patterns.

“Satisfied?”

Luwyn nodded and lowered his bow slowly. He slid the arrow back in his quiver and stood. Fila grabbed Luwyn’s arm and hauled herself up and skipped gingerly toward the stranger. She bowed and grabbed his hand, shaking it furiously.

“Thank you!” she chimed. “Thank you for saving us. I didn’t get to see much of the display, but from what Luwyn tells me, and the carnage that surrounds us, it must have been delightfully entertaining.”

The stranger peaked around Fila, and looked at Luwyn. Luwyn shrugged and shook his head.

The stranger stepped sideways and toward Luwyn. “What brings you to the deepest parts of this forest? What is your name? And yours?” he said, nodding at Fila.

“My name is Luwyn,” Luwyn replied. “And this is Fila. What about you?”

“My name is Garu. And you’re welcome by the way. I never got any thanks from you,” he said, smirking at Luwyn.

Luwyn shot Garu a confused look. “Thank you, I suppose. You did save our lives, we would have ended up…” Luwyn nodded at guard whose shoulder Garu slashed through. He was still writhing and squirming just yards away.

Garu nodded. “Worse, probably. Seems King Liandros wants you minced.”

Tags and such

The Isanar, the Gods of Siros

The gods, known as the Isanar, are divided into four groups or generations. The three major groups are the Ise, the Isani, and the Isanuse; the fourth, lesser, group is the Isanushar.

Arandus, God of War & Rossu, God of Peace

Arandus gripped his axe, Nazul. It’s golden eye peeked up at him through cracks in the bark near the blade. A slab of gold from the sun, bathed in the light of his mother, the moon. Arandus forged it just as his father had forged him so long ago. In his rage, Arandus named the axe Nazul, or “Wrath”. That was the beginning of this war. He didn’t feel so wrathful right now, just tired.

Arandus looked to his cousin. Rossu stood next to him, his chest rose and fell steadily. His crimson red hair and skin glistened with divine sweat, his armor peeled away, and his arms and shoulder bare. He held his giant saber in his hands. The blade was huge, as wide as the god’s muscled leg, and longer than he was tall. The metal gleamed scarlet, forged from the innards of a volcano, and bathed in the magma. He named it Efir o’Rossu, “Rossu’s Fire.”

Arandus remembered a time when they were young gods, hair barely on their chins, batting together in the name of justice. There was the rare occasion when peace god Rossu, would clean up the squabbles his war god cousin would start. Now they stood together on the battlefield that might be their last.

Arandus sighed. He missed his home in the heavens, Orthu, and his brothers. His family. Each night, he looked up into the sky and stared at his mother until morning.

“Rossu.”

The Red God grunted a response.

“How many times have we done this?”

Rossu blinked, a clear sign that he was thinking, quite deeply. “Somewhere around five billion, seventeen thousand, three hundred and fifty five. Plus that skirmish with my mother.” He shivered.

Arandus bellowed laughter, the hearty sound echoed across the field. “Leave it to the son of the Sofos the Wise to remember all of our battles, to fear of Rosiag, Torturer of Souls.” He paused.

The horde of vile monsters of the Void waited across the battlefield. They slashed their claws and flashed vicious fangs at Arandus and Rossu, eyes burning with black fire. Their hideous shadowy bodies writhed and hummed with anger. They stood around Oni, several times even the old god’s size, who towered over his nephews. He held a hand in the air, holding his army in place.

Oni’s black mane flowed in the wind, his ruddy grey skin glistening with his power stolen from the sun. His armor was black and gold, emblazoned with runes exclaiming his grace and strength. Oni twirled his spear in his other hand, the golden blade long and wicked. Arandus huffed and glared into his uncle’s onyx eyes.

Arandus chuckled. “We may die here today, Cousin,” he said. Rossu nodded. The God of Peace was never wasteful with his words.

“Shall we make it worth it?”

Rossu nodded again. He swung Efir around his head and slammed it into the ground. The earth separated at his feat, magma bubbling to the surface. The magma rose and morphed, and dryed into the shape of red molten rock warriors, each equipped with swords and axes, maces and spears. They let out guttural sounds that boomed across the field, then charged, hooping and flaying their weapons.

Oni raised his spear, gesturing for his monsters to charge in return, a devilish wrapped grin across his face.

Arandus took a deep breath, then he and Rossu lunged, weapons raised high. They let out a battle cry and crashed through the army of monsters, moving for Oni.

“You took my father from me,” Arandus yelled, sliding underneath a large wolf shaped creature, slashing the length of its belly with his axe. “You took my mother, my home.”

Arandus hopped up and spun, slicing off the head of a tall shadowy figure behind him. He grabbed the limp body and slammed it into another monster. He hacked at the ground, and Nazul’s blade gouged into the soil. He propelled himself through the frey, his eyes locked into Oni.

“For that, Oni, you will feel my wrath!”