Wake Up Little Boulder
Posted: Sat Jun 29, 2019 2:21 pm
Michio Samoosa stared intently out of the opening of the craggy stone hut down at the Mother a great distance away. His flexed and curled his calloused toes gripping stray pebbles and dust. He tried not to, but he scoffed. This place, although called the Khralaessara was simply not it. The promised land was not a place away from the Mother, above her, observant. It was a place within, unafraid, and embracing. This was hiding, on the moon, one of many that the mother adorned atop her crown. And try as he might to adjust, this was going to take some getting used to.
Samoosa was inside something even more new. A chamber dedicated to the restoring of those who are to awaken from stasis. He needed to look anywhere else than at the doorway to his right, into the room where Michio Nansa, Michio Shareesha, and the other Mancers were hard at work awakening yet another found in the hedrons on the Mother’s surface. He’d be too tempted to look inside, and he would be incredibly disappointed. The length of time waiting meant nothing. They could easily be laying to rest a corpse, or resuscitating a life. It was a game, and so, so many had been lost already. So he gazed at the Mother and his eyes became a glistening silver, no longer was he looking at her complete portrait of greens blues and white wisps. He was looking at fowls flying among the clouds, fish in the sea, plants and animals all serving their purpose and Michio Vyrin masquerading among them as The Great Destroyer. Everything by design. Everything by design.
And what of his design? He looked down at his hands tremoring uncontrollably. He was old, and wrinkly, a grotesque contrast to his musclebound proud people. An invalid no different than a beggar? Samoosa subconsciously forced himself to stand up straight though he winced and recoiled half way. He wore this haggardly form with pride to remind those who awakened just what life used to be before the Dharma was shattered. If anyone ever awakened from one of those damned cubes. So far the only one they saved were Scii, being so young she needed to be around someone her age. To Think they numbered 10,000… now? They were barely a hundred.
It seems like it was just yesterday when he was around the humble, proud Khralaessara- the promise land. Samoosa drew a deep reflective breath and his eyes shined a glittering crystal once more. He scanned the Mother’s surface for that desert continent, beset with chafing winds and scalding temperatures. He looked upon it with a quivering smile ashis mind wandered to that city in a hole. He could still feel the rugged stone roads beneath the callouses of his feet as they wound unevenly into and about the crevase the city was built into bustling with busy beautiful brown people all set to a task, to be free. Freedom to do anything, or nothing at all. It didn’t matter, choice was what they fought for.
It was so much easier back then, when the evil creates compromise. Now? The Mother was polluted with so much ambition, which only creates more conflict. Oh how he wanted to fight with his tribe against the horsmen back then. Yet he had to observe his comrades in arms, tactfully advise and give wise counsel. How joyous was it to feel the divergent halves of the tribe work together; the Devout, a movement dedicated to breaking the oppressive laws, cooperated with The Advocate of the caste system Michio Wei- The Ghost wind. And the two helped the Thirteen save this world from the immortal enemy. Together they brought in an era of peace, and agreed to undo the Dharma a strict set of laws, a caste system that bound every Michio to a culture of restriction.
But peace was never permanent. It seemed just yesterday Samoosa was facilitating an evacuation of the Khralaessara when the Djou’Vik and mighty titans oyube set immortal flame to their humble crevasse. It was by the help of those underground trolls, did they evacuate safely. The power of vengeance and time made a force to be reckoned with. And the dragon Yh’Keem wouldn’t yield without taking numerous lives. So The Ghost Wind gave her own. Samoosa’s smile shifted downward. Still unsure on how to look at her sacrifice. Back then the Michio were just as confused, their reincarnated oppressor willingly sacrificed their life for the tribe putting an end to the enforcement of the Dharma, but her benevolence was only a ruse. She possessed michio kham and later massacred them with grand sweeping strokes. Samoosa shook himself out of his gaze. And decided to instead pace the halls. Inch by inch his body quaked but it was better than looking into the Michio’s restless past.
How much more blood need be shed before peace and permanence walked side by side? Samoosa just took another sigh. Only hoping this time he could do much more than observe.
He could feel the stone door shift, he could hear it grind against the craggy floor of the chamber and come to a halt. Michio Nansa stepped out. Normally Samoosa would bow to the grand Mancer, but he forewent formalities in this circumstance.
“Samoosa-“
“How long has it been Nansa?”
“12 hours.”
“And?”
She looked exhausted, there were swollen puffs under her eyes. Her grey hair was wiry, ragged and wild. Her face although slender and beautiful conveyed much concern. Normally she wore that constant, presumptuous smirk but now? She had nothing to hide, nothing to analyze or decipher. She just sighed.
“May I escort you inside?”
Samoosa frowned, another corpse to look upon. He regrettably extended his elbow to her.
“Please.”
She took it and the two slowly walked inside the dark chamber. Steam collected upon the cool floor cutting off the feet of everyone inside. There was a crowd of brown bodies blocking the view of a floating cube in the center which was pouring out this steam. The cube it self seemed to be suspended in midair with sigils etched into its facade. The Ahlm Tongue.
“Samoosa this one lives.”
“What? Why are we crawling like worms! Let me see them!”
He tried to quicken his pace but he was interrupted by a fit of tremors. A quaking shiver that ran up his heel through his spine and paralyzed him in a fit that made his teeth wince. One of the bodies by the cube noticed and ran over to his aid. Nansa waved the Mancer away.
“I’m alright. I’m fine.”
“Slowly Samoosa.”
Slowly they approached, and the mancers surrounding the cube parted ways, the only one remaining was lost in a chant. He recognized them as Michio Shareeshas, a fellow elder like he, who was also afflicted with the tremors. She was reciting a hymn in the Ahlm tongue, and upon looking at the corpse in the cube. Samoosa could see why. This thing could hardly be recognized as a Michio at all. It was bones and brown skin. Silver hair true. But the eyes were closed. It was so malnourished and nearly decayed but there was a flaming tuft of Naten pusling through the scar in the center of his chest akin to his heart beat. No doubt it was Shareesha’s chant who was keeping him alive.
“Mother be still…”
“Yes. He lives, but barely.”
“He suffered injury in stasis?”
“No, we believe this one is Michio Zol.”
“Zol?!”
Samoosa took a few steps further and slowly quivered his finger along the flesh of the small corpse. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he made contact with his Kah. He could see it all, a boy fully living his life of freedom, one of the first. His mother coming from a life of oppression rejected his choice and ran him through the chest. Samoosa had his mother put to death without blinking an eye. Mother be still…
“Mother’s breath. It is Michio Zol.”
“Shareesha is doing all she can to sustain him.”
Nansa replied calculatingly, moving her silver curls out of the way of her crimson eyes. Samoosa looked to his left at the ever whispering Shareesha speaking the power of the Ahlm Tongue which sounded like quakes, and tremors. Then he looked back to Michio Zol knowing full well why Nansa brought him in here. They needed to make a decision.
“Michio Zol wanted to live a life of freedom. But the world he was born into his long gone. In this world he must once again choose a roll…. We wait for him to rise.”
“Very well. I’ll alert the others.”
Nansa stepped away, her long legs lengthening her stride as her mancers followed behind her silent with their plain grey cloaks flowing behind them. Samoosa stroked his beard while resting the back of his palm on Michio Zol’s cheek. The boy was warm. Very much alive. Suffering. He then looked to Shareesha, locked in silent prayer and looked once again at the small pulling flame at the center of the boys chest. He would make it. So he stood, and waited as long as it took.
Samoosa was inside something even more new. A chamber dedicated to the restoring of those who are to awaken from stasis. He needed to look anywhere else than at the doorway to his right, into the room where Michio Nansa, Michio Shareesha, and the other Mancers were hard at work awakening yet another found in the hedrons on the Mother’s surface. He’d be too tempted to look inside, and he would be incredibly disappointed. The length of time waiting meant nothing. They could easily be laying to rest a corpse, or resuscitating a life. It was a game, and so, so many had been lost already. So he gazed at the Mother and his eyes became a glistening silver, no longer was he looking at her complete portrait of greens blues and white wisps. He was looking at fowls flying among the clouds, fish in the sea, plants and animals all serving their purpose and Michio Vyrin masquerading among them as The Great Destroyer. Everything by design. Everything by design.
And what of his design? He looked down at his hands tremoring uncontrollably. He was old, and wrinkly, a grotesque contrast to his musclebound proud people. An invalid no different than a beggar? Samoosa subconsciously forced himself to stand up straight though he winced and recoiled half way. He wore this haggardly form with pride to remind those who awakened just what life used to be before the Dharma was shattered. If anyone ever awakened from one of those damned cubes. So far the only one they saved were Scii, being so young she needed to be around someone her age. To Think they numbered 10,000… now? They were barely a hundred.
It seems like it was just yesterday when he was around the humble, proud Khralaessara- the promise land. Samoosa drew a deep reflective breath and his eyes shined a glittering crystal once more. He scanned the Mother’s surface for that desert continent, beset with chafing winds and scalding temperatures. He looked upon it with a quivering smile ashis mind wandered to that city in a hole. He could still feel the rugged stone roads beneath the callouses of his feet as they wound unevenly into and about the crevase the city was built into bustling with busy beautiful brown people all set to a task, to be free. Freedom to do anything, or nothing at all. It didn’t matter, choice was what they fought for.
It was so much easier back then, when the evil creates compromise. Now? The Mother was polluted with so much ambition, which only creates more conflict. Oh how he wanted to fight with his tribe against the horsmen back then. Yet he had to observe his comrades in arms, tactfully advise and give wise counsel. How joyous was it to feel the divergent halves of the tribe work together; the Devout, a movement dedicated to breaking the oppressive laws, cooperated with The Advocate of the caste system Michio Wei- The Ghost wind. And the two helped the Thirteen save this world from the immortal enemy. Together they brought in an era of peace, and agreed to undo the Dharma a strict set of laws, a caste system that bound every Michio to a culture of restriction.
But peace was never permanent. It seemed just yesterday Samoosa was facilitating an evacuation of the Khralaessara when the Djou’Vik and mighty titans oyube set immortal flame to their humble crevasse. It was by the help of those underground trolls, did they evacuate safely. The power of vengeance and time made a force to be reckoned with. And the dragon Yh’Keem wouldn’t yield without taking numerous lives. So The Ghost Wind gave her own. Samoosa’s smile shifted downward. Still unsure on how to look at her sacrifice. Back then the Michio were just as confused, their reincarnated oppressor willingly sacrificed their life for the tribe putting an end to the enforcement of the Dharma, but her benevolence was only a ruse. She possessed michio kham and later massacred them with grand sweeping strokes. Samoosa shook himself out of his gaze. And decided to instead pace the halls. Inch by inch his body quaked but it was better than looking into the Michio’s restless past.
How much more blood need be shed before peace and permanence walked side by side? Samoosa just took another sigh. Only hoping this time he could do much more than observe.
He could feel the stone door shift, he could hear it grind against the craggy floor of the chamber and come to a halt. Michio Nansa stepped out. Normally Samoosa would bow to the grand Mancer, but he forewent formalities in this circumstance.
“Samoosa-“
“How long has it been Nansa?”
“12 hours.”
“And?”
She looked exhausted, there were swollen puffs under her eyes. Her grey hair was wiry, ragged and wild. Her face although slender and beautiful conveyed much concern. Normally she wore that constant, presumptuous smirk but now? She had nothing to hide, nothing to analyze or decipher. She just sighed.
“May I escort you inside?”
Samoosa frowned, another corpse to look upon. He regrettably extended his elbow to her.
“Please.”
She took it and the two slowly walked inside the dark chamber. Steam collected upon the cool floor cutting off the feet of everyone inside. There was a crowd of brown bodies blocking the view of a floating cube in the center which was pouring out this steam. The cube it self seemed to be suspended in midair with sigils etched into its facade. The Ahlm Tongue.
“Samoosa this one lives.”
“What? Why are we crawling like worms! Let me see them!”
He tried to quicken his pace but he was interrupted by a fit of tremors. A quaking shiver that ran up his heel through his spine and paralyzed him in a fit that made his teeth wince. One of the bodies by the cube noticed and ran over to his aid. Nansa waved the Mancer away.
“I’m alright. I’m fine.”
“Slowly Samoosa.”
Slowly they approached, and the mancers surrounding the cube parted ways, the only one remaining was lost in a chant. He recognized them as Michio Shareeshas, a fellow elder like he, who was also afflicted with the tremors. She was reciting a hymn in the Ahlm tongue, and upon looking at the corpse in the cube. Samoosa could see why. This thing could hardly be recognized as a Michio at all. It was bones and brown skin. Silver hair true. But the eyes were closed. It was so malnourished and nearly decayed but there was a flaming tuft of Naten pusling through the scar in the center of his chest akin to his heart beat. No doubt it was Shareesha’s chant who was keeping him alive.
“Mother be still…”
“Yes. He lives, but barely.”
“He suffered injury in stasis?”
“No, we believe this one is Michio Zol.”
“Zol?!”
Samoosa took a few steps further and slowly quivered his finger along the flesh of the small corpse. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he made contact with his Kah. He could see it all, a boy fully living his life of freedom, one of the first. His mother coming from a life of oppression rejected his choice and ran him through the chest. Samoosa had his mother put to death without blinking an eye. Mother be still…
“Mother’s breath. It is Michio Zol.”
“Shareesha is doing all she can to sustain him.”
Nansa replied calculatingly, moving her silver curls out of the way of her crimson eyes. Samoosa looked to his left at the ever whispering Shareesha speaking the power of the Ahlm Tongue which sounded like quakes, and tremors. Then he looked back to Michio Zol knowing full well why Nansa brought him in here. They needed to make a decision.
“Michio Zol wanted to live a life of freedom. But the world he was born into his long gone. In this world he must once again choose a roll…. We wait for him to rise.”
“Very well. I’ll alert the others.”
Nansa stepped away, her long legs lengthening her stride as her mancers followed behind her silent with their plain grey cloaks flowing behind them. Samoosa stroked his beard while resting the back of his palm on Michio Zol’s cheek. The boy was warm. Very much alive. Suffering. He then looked to Shareesha, locked in silent prayer and looked once again at the small pulling flame at the center of the boys chest. He would make it. So he stood, and waited as long as it took.