Tale:Halfway through a Journey

The winds of Eos constantly blew inward from its cold outer reaches toward the middle. Dealing with Eos' spin, they gradually veer anti-spinward. The sun just set and would remain below the horizon for about thirty sleeps. Already the winds were dying down and shifting fully anti-spinward. A last gasp of the ever-cooling landscape's heat brought a gust of wind. Ohko shivered. Her sweat-soaked clothing once serving to battle the cold had now become its ally. She was exhausted; her breath slowly became visible. Even so, she stared ahead at the largest human she had ever seen besides her own reflection. He was similarly exhausted, his breath ragged and uneven. The light of the moons each highlighted a different part of his body, as though they were looking in approval on his form. Albedo shined its light on his face, gaunt and Vexlore like white hair. Scintilla cast its gaze on his back, the wide expanse battered and bruised, yes, [but it was still a sight to behold]. Eosphoros weakly shined, as though in agreement with its brighter siblings in the sky, upon his quivering legs, at the start of the battle they were like the trunks of aspens, pale bark similarly marked with scars much like them as well.

Hal had never been bested by anything that bleeds before, but the giantess' blood was expensive. Each drop demanded many times its volume from Hal. She was like a noble commissioned a statue of the Goddess of Passion of cast volcanic glass darker than the night sky. Unlike most depictions of that particular goddess, whose body was soft, the artist sculpting her could not coax the glass into gentle curves in favor of jagged shapes. [She was as imposing as the volcano that made the glass she was carved from], and her strikes had similar eruptive force behind them. If Hal allowed those chiseled arms take hold of him, like they nearly had when he blindly rushed into this fight, that would be the end of it. As the madness of battle left him, and right before every muscle and tendon in his body reminded him of their pain at once, he thought for the briefest of moments that perhaps the woman's arms would be a great place to be.

And so the two faced off against one another, both having their posture degrade and arms lower as the stand off grinded on. They starred at one another with such intensity that not a detail evaded them. This was the most exhilarating altercation either experienced, which meant it hurt more than anything either one had ever done (idk).

Hal staggered forward, Ohko raised her bloody hands once more. He walked off, or trudged off, rather, back to the way he came.

Ohko coughed, "Another victory for the undefeatable Ohko!"

It hurt to breath too deeply, she had been going since the sun had touched the horizon. Still she forced a laugh, wounded pride either made for good word of mouth or assurance the defeated would come back to be finished off.

Hal lazily waved off the comment, "I'm putting it on hold!"

"You can't do that. What kind of man runs away?"

"I wouldn't call this running."

Hal knealed in a holy place, the sanctuary of Resplendent Judge Amman. Dimly glowing lights lichen, set behind stained glass inset in the walls, provided the light needed for beings such as Hal, corporeal as they were.

"Leave it to the human to fail to follow basic orders," the voice came from behind gem-studded heavy veils hanging from the distant ceiling.

"Have you nothing to say... Hal of Drusus?," the voice

"The damnable prophetess is much too powerful," Hal

"Shall I send a selav back home? The Great Judge's warriors could be upon you in but a day's time."

"There is no need, Resplendent Judge..."

"Surely they could dispose of this menace as soon as they come."

"My wages... I could never pay such a debt!"

"Pray you don't have to. Leave this place at once."

Hal sprung to his feet and turned around. He did his best to control his limp so as to not seem weak before the judge. Even in darkness, spirits such as him could see as well as a mortal can hear. Naidaran guards guarded the exit to the holy place. With such dim lights, they were nothing but silhouettes socvered in billowing fabric despite the stagnant air of the holy place. Hal bowed to each one, both technically his superiors despite the entirely different armed force to which they belonged.

Down the hallway he went, all there was to guide him was the gently glowing stained glass depicting the Naidaran judges slaying the great warriors and gods of the people. Whether they were Kristal, Rorran, Arkhosian, or even creatures Hal did not recognize, their great men could not stand before The Oeuvre.

"Secure is he who follows these words, who lives according to them, for he lives according to Nature... Like how rain falls according to its predestined path, so too should you fall down your path. Defying your path is as absurd as rain falling upward, such is the absurdity of the flesh. Embrace your modality, o droplet of rain."

Hal scraped together as much of the Oeuvre about blessing and safety as he could, a difficult task compared to the curses it contained. Yes, he was going to serve the Naidarans well.

He felt the cool outside air against his body, covered in naught but wine skins stitched together. He was much too large for even several, so he wore the rags around his waist. It would be better to do without them as the Naidarans do; clothes were a sign of weakness against bitter cold, weakness of the flesh, but it was midnight.

The moisture stolen from the ground over the long day was now falling back. First as rain, but now as snow. It would be much too prideful to wear the holy garments in the barracks; on the large open garden overlooking the city he put on appropriate clothing. Long robes leaving nothing but a thin slit to see through. This was the best a corporeal being could do, simply mimicking the Naidarans whose lawfulness elevated them to a spiritual form.

[There is so much exposition here wow]

Hal descended the steps two at a time toward the lush gardens below. Even though the plants had closed their leaves for the night, the night-blooming flowers gathered quite a crowd of pollinators. The humming mantises and sphinx moths flurried from plant to plant. Despite the piles of snow building up around them, these insects proved willing to bear these extremes. Hal on the other hand was not.

The large pillars of smoke throughout the city demonstrated that most were not. The markets were kept free of snow and large bonfires placed throughout kept things warms. Hal walked through the crowded market toward the barracks, far from the massive six-sloped structure. At its apex lied a massive glowing... construct of some sort. The Naidaran arts were lost on the people, but it supplied enough light to see throughout the city whose center it occupied.

There was not a Naidaran to be seen at this barracks, but relatively nearby was a garrison of Naidaran soldiers obviously meant to keep watch of them. [Worthless lore] [I really need to describe the interior of the barracks]

Hal collapsed onto his bed, one of hundreds in the cramped space. Everything hurt. It was small and complained under his weight with a creak. It was much too small.

He awoke as a small hand grabbed his shoulder. Not just a hand small compared to his, but a hand far too small to belong to someone in the barracks in general.

"I've been shaking you for five minutes? Do you know how many people here would jump at the chance to be here with me?" a woman spoke.

"I don't have any money. Hardly any of us do. Go solicit an officer if you want a customer that will pay."

She hit him, "Oh please not even a judge could afford me. Listen to what I have to say!"

Only then Hal bothered to open his eyes, although it did not do him a lot of good. The woman was a faint outline so Hal closed his eyes once more.

The woman sighed, "Ohko should have done this."

Hal bolted upright, the bed complained again.

"I'm not good enough for you? Look, she says she can't find a sparring partner and needs someone she can go all out on."

"Are you trying to make me break the Oeuvre?"

"Good pay but the food is probably no better than whatever gruel they pour into your troughs here—"

"You answer to the prophetess?"

"I run her errands and advise her. What a pitiful life, don't you agree?"

Hal grabbed her upper arm, his fingers wrapped entirely around it, "I can buy an abode all to myself with the gold you're worth."

"I'm flattered," the woman squirmed a bit, "Aren't you gonna ask for my name first? At least have some manners."

Hal stared at the small woman as she placed a hand over his heart. His body suddenly jolted and great pain radiated throughout his body. The woman slipped out from his grasp.

"I'd make a much better prophetess why did she have to play the role?" The woman lept toward the exit.

Hal's body was still twitching, more pain atop the existing bruises.

The woman stopped and turned around, "The ways of the Naidarans are not their sole property."

"Ah excuse me," she squeezed by a groggy soldiers asking what's happening, "just a bad business deal."

Hal tried to follow her outside as an uproar emerged throughout the barracks, a mixture of laughing and anger at being awoken at this hour. Hal was in no shape to follow the servant of the prophetess, let alone capture her. Whatever she did to him, the art of the Naidaran warriors, was meant to be their blessing alone.