01-24-2016, 08:41 PM
Te’Zali stood in a somber room with surrounding bones at her feet. The only light came from a window and the cracks in the roof of her hut, causing a brilliant array of sunbeams to highlight the tools around her. Smoke billowed, encompassing her in slow, steady waves, causing her eyes to sting. Murmuring sacred words, her fingertips played with herbs, while she searched deep inside herself for answers.
Te’Zali was desperately trying to save a child, who laid suffering on an altar before her. He’d been thrown off a horse and was trampled, resulting in a broken back, and his legs twisted.
“This should help you with the pain my child” Te’Zali cooed, gently rubbing a healing paste on his body. A steady stream of tears fell from the young boy's face, but he was bravely silent. It did not appear the boy would survive, there were signs of internal damage, and his body was swollen and bruised. Even if the Gods spared his life, his legs were deformed, causing a high likelihood of him becoming a cripple. This boy was a warrior. Living without his legs would be fate far worse than death. Death in battle was the only way to enter the hall of the great ancestors, to drink and celebrate with the Gods.
An eerie feeling engulfed her, abruptly halting her prayer to the Gods. The White Haired Priestess put her long sharp fingers together, holding her two index fingers on the bridge of her nose, she turned and looked over her shoulder. Rage filled her being, causing her teeth to chatter. Zabajin had returned, but she felt that something was gravely wrong. A menacing aura cloaked the priestess, causing her to reach for her blade uncontrollably.
Light precipitously filled the room, causing her to turn away blindly in displeasure. Three of her apprentices filed themselves in front of her, with troubled looks across their faces. Falling to their knees, their eyes were fixed on the ground, one of them spoke, “The chief has returned.”
“I am aware,” spat Te’Zali as her fingernails dug into her scalp fretfully, “the Gods are angry. I can fill it in my bones.”
With the feeling in the air vindictive, the women remained silent, while Te’Zali’s entire body shook like a leaf in the wind. Peering back at the child, she grimaced, “Pray to the Gods for his healing.”
Storming out of the hut, the wife of the Chief made her way to the great hall with a fire in her eyes.
Rufio sat around a great fire with a belly full of rum, and a troll wench on his lap. He saw Te’Zali step out of the spiritual healing hut in a raging frenzy and chuckled to himself. He noticed how her delicate fingers gripped her blade while every footstep she took was with purpose. She wore a long skirt that only covered her loins and allowed her long, luxurious legs to visibly sweep the air as she walked. Her breasts were exposed, while only an intricate necklace made of bones and animal’s feathers, graced her neck. Being a conduit for the Gods, her face showcased small tusks that complemented her delicate features. Even her hair was dressed in honor of them. Piled high atop her head, she wore thick braids, creating a mohawk that made her taller than Zabajin. Under her enchantment, Rufio watched as her curvaceous body glided through air like a goddess herself, and entered the great hall.
Turning over to one of the warriors, Rufio snickered, “We need not worry about that bitch becoming a problem. As soon as Te’Zali finds out, she is going to end her miserable life.” The men around him erupted in laughter.
One of them agreed, “Te’Zali speaks to the Gods, she will make that little girl a great sacrifice.” The men cheered and continued their celebration, while Rufio had his gaze fixated on the doorway to the great hall, anxious to see what would unfold next.
Te’Zali was desperately trying to save a child, who laid suffering on an altar before her. He’d been thrown off a horse and was trampled, resulting in a broken back, and his legs twisted.
“This should help you with the pain my child” Te’Zali cooed, gently rubbing a healing paste on his body. A steady stream of tears fell from the young boy's face, but he was bravely silent. It did not appear the boy would survive, there were signs of internal damage, and his body was swollen and bruised. Even if the Gods spared his life, his legs were deformed, causing a high likelihood of him becoming a cripple. This boy was a warrior. Living without his legs would be fate far worse than death. Death in battle was the only way to enter the hall of the great ancestors, to drink and celebrate with the Gods.
An eerie feeling engulfed her, abruptly halting her prayer to the Gods. The White Haired Priestess put her long sharp fingers together, holding her two index fingers on the bridge of her nose, she turned and looked over her shoulder. Rage filled her being, causing her teeth to chatter. Zabajin had returned, but she felt that something was gravely wrong. A menacing aura cloaked the priestess, causing her to reach for her blade uncontrollably.
Light precipitously filled the room, causing her to turn away blindly in displeasure. Three of her apprentices filed themselves in front of her, with troubled looks across their faces. Falling to their knees, their eyes were fixed on the ground, one of them spoke, “The chief has returned.”
“I am aware,” spat Te’Zali as her fingernails dug into her scalp fretfully, “the Gods are angry. I can fill it in my bones.”
With the feeling in the air vindictive, the women remained silent, while Te’Zali’s entire body shook like a leaf in the wind. Peering back at the child, she grimaced, “Pray to the Gods for his healing.”
Storming out of the hut, the wife of the Chief made her way to the great hall with a fire in her eyes.
Rufio sat around a great fire with a belly full of rum, and a troll wench on his lap. He saw Te’Zali step out of the spiritual healing hut in a raging frenzy and chuckled to himself. He noticed how her delicate fingers gripped her blade while every footstep she took was with purpose. She wore a long skirt that only covered her loins and allowed her long, luxurious legs to visibly sweep the air as she walked. Her breasts were exposed, while only an intricate necklace made of bones and animal’s feathers, graced her neck. Being a conduit for the Gods, her face showcased small tusks that complemented her delicate features. Even her hair was dressed in honor of them. Piled high atop her head, she wore thick braids, creating a mohawk that made her taller than Zabajin. Under her enchantment, Rufio watched as her curvaceous body glided through air like a goddess herself, and entered the great hall.
Turning over to one of the warriors, Rufio snickered, “We need not worry about that bitch becoming a problem. As soon as Te’Zali finds out, she is going to end her miserable life.” The men around him erupted in laughter.
One of them agreed, “Te’Zali speaks to the Gods, she will make that little girl a great sacrifice.” The men cheered and continued their celebration, while Rufio had his gaze fixated on the doorway to the great hall, anxious to see what would unfold next.
![[Image: Orihime-orihime-inoue-35471187-500-274.gif]](http://www.cytokineindustries.com/chevereto/images/2018/04/09/Orihime-orihime-inoue-35471187-500-274.gif)