Date: October 25, 2000 (Aether: April 18, 3907)
Place: Beach - Haven
Cast: Ashai, Emilee, Faanshi, Izak, Jihaad, Starfang, Vladimir (emitted)
Scene: The Najada perform a sacrifice to their stern, stormy god, Vodyanoi, who will only be appeased by blood.

In the setting sun of the clear, cloudless evening, fall shadows fall on the sand, behind the shapes of the two unlike healers. Yet hardly a sound passes as the four icy-pale Najada march from the city upon the beach, a look of pride and determination on all of their faces. Little attention is given to the comparison of races and ideologies as they make their way towards the sea, leaving faint traces in the sand.

The leader of this odd quartet is the Najskor himself, one hand resting lightly upon the hilt of the dagger at his hip. Izak's countenance seems chipped from stone, but in his pale blue eyes there blazes a veritable fire. Not a glance is given to the two women upon the sands, rather, he seems intent on reaching the water.

Kosha sees the newcomers passing before Faanshi does, and the big hound's whurf rumbles softly in his throat as they go by. But since they do not come near his young mistress, the creature stays contentedly put; besides, he's being scritched by Starfang, and this is not a situation he desires to change any time in the foreseeable future.

Faanshi, upon hearing Kosha's small warning -- and then upon catching a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of those who pass - peeks shyly above her veil in their direction and might be heard by her Sylvan companion to breathe in a soft sigh of startlement. Starfang's last observation momentarily forgotten, the shudra breathes tinily, "Are those... some of the ones from the north?"

Starfang turns her head to the group, shrugging, "I guess. I can't tell." She doesn't seem quite as interested as Faanshi, turning all her attention (as well as her free hand) to Kosha. "'s none of my concern, anyway," she mutters as her hands move down Kosha's neck.

At the side of the Najskor is a smaller, rounded female figure. Her head is lifted with pride, the last rays of the setting sun catching in her silvery hair. Never leaving the side of her husband, her paces are quicker to match his stride. One webbed hand is kept tightly to herself, the other clutching reassuringly to a man -- or rather: an adolescent -- at her side.

The boy is towered by the pillar of ice, but his chest is brought out, shoulders propped back to reveal the developing musculature. His free hand switches between gripping the long, curve dagger at his side and brushing over his bald head, as if to reassure himself that there is really no hair upon it anymore.

Walking last in this macabre group is a tall man whose features resemble the Najskor's so well they might be brothers. Each step is taken in unison with the others, and less obvious to one's sight is the fact that they blink as one. And likely breath as one. Izak enters the surf, plowing through the cold water without a touch of difficulty. When about waist deep in the ocean, it is then he stops, and he pivots smoothly upon his heel to regard the woman who is his wife. Vlad, his brother, stops as well, and typically remains silent and apparently impassive.

The northern Children of Water aren't exactly the concern of a humble servant girl of Atesh-Gah, either -- but still, Faanshi peeks timidly in their direction nevertheless, not brave enough to call them, but still curious enough to try to observe as much of them as she discreetly can. As shudra go, the halfbreed does get out rather more often than normal, but still... these folk are a new experience entirely, and the same hints of wonder Starfang might perchance have glimpsed in her eyes and voice before linger in her leaf-green gaze now. "No," she agrees hesitantly to the Sylvan, "but... they are the first of the northerners I have seen... how fierce they look...!"

Starfang nods to Kosha. "That's why I don't look all that interested," she murmurs softly. Her nails dig into Kosha's back, rubbing as much as scratching.

Unlike the stride of the three warriors around her, Katya's step is more feminine, graceful, almost lofty. Body swaying with each step, her webbed feet barely touch the sand around her. The waves splash against her calves as she follows into the water, but do not hinder the Najada woman to meet her husband's side. Finally letting go of Hedeon's hand, leaving the adolescent to himself in this moment, she turns to face Izak likewise, looking up to him with an expectant, intense peer of cold, frosty blue eyes.

*The time has come. We are ready.* The simple thoughts of conviction only echo in the minds of the four Najada, letting the image of a strong, virile blue man within the waves appear in their minds.

Faanshi is, primarily, an innocent even if she has spent well over a year now venturing through the streets of Haven looking for people who need her healing power. But there's one thing she has managed to learn, long before she ever set foot in the city -- and that is if you do not wish to attract the attention of the wyvern, you do not walk up and wave a torch in its face. Bobbing her head in understanding to Starfang, she lowers her gaze down to the dog and joins her companion in scritching Kosha's fur. This is just fine with Kosha, who wags his tail all the more vigorously now. But in the meantime Faanshi murmurs softly, "I have not... seen too many Atlanteans. I've healed a couple... and my teacher is teaching one now. But that's it...!"

There might well be no one else in this world for all the attention that Izak seems to give his surroundings. At the telepathic message, there seems to be no response from the man that is evident in his physical features. Yet in his mind is assent and pride. Then his hand clenches 'round the dagger at his hip, and in one smooth motion he pulls it free. The blade is slick, sharp stone, specially Shaped for what is about to happen. His free hand reaches out to seize Katya, cupping her head with a surprising gentleness even as he draws her in closer.

Starfang grumbles softly, "He'd best not be killing her with that. He'd best not be." She doesn't seem to be looking at all, though, instead continuing to look like she's immersed in cuddling Kosha. She seems to be perfectly calm, at peace, noticing nothing. Seems.

"Sweet Merciful Mother--" Fragile as Faanshi has been as of late, she cannot help but react when that fearsome-looking hairless man seizes the woman. Color drains out of her face, though this is difficult to see behind her veil. Kosha whurfs again, at least partially distracted now from the attention the healers are giving him. And Faanshi blurts hoarsely, "Is... is he punishing her?" Sweet Merciful Ushas, do not let it be a death...! Faanshi is not at all sure she can bear witnessing a death. Not now.

Katya does not flinch away from the touch, letting herself be pulled towards the huge Najskor. Cold blue eyes narrow down on the blade. With her chin still lifted, the water playing around her hips, she looks like a person frozen on the spot. Then, a cool, controlled smile spreads on her thin lips, making them seem hardly any more sympathetic. One arm reaches out, hand touching him on a bare shoulder, to draw him deeper inside the water. The tendril of thought she stretches out is brief, but clear, a lure of the deeper sea ahead of them.

Grinding into the sand, Ashai's staff makes a strange sound, its metal almost shrieking. He approaches the beach and watches the strange gathering from a few dozen yards away, standing unmoving and the darkness of his hood hides his features and emotions perfectly...

Four Najada stand in the water, waist-deep at the moment. The Najskor's fingers briefly rub at his wife's scalp, silver hair tangling around each digit and the webbing. Izak retreats deeper into the water, and simultaneously, the three remaining Najada warriors look towards the beach towards those gathering. Their eyes are not very friendly. Izak's especially. The dagger he holds in his hand is brought closer to the woman's throat, but not a drop of blood has yet been spilled.

Telepathically, Izak's thoughts go quiet, reaching out to still those of the men around them, and then an eerie song begins to rise. It is the Hejnal, although a more formal version that is reserved for the most austere and grand of occasions. This is the Obeta od Miazga. And Katya, the wife of the Najskor, has been chosen to go first to the realm of Vodyanoi. It is her blood that will be spilled, so that they might partake of her strength. In each strum of thought reverberates a deep and abiding reverence for the Kurie.

Starfang sighs softly and rises, letting go of Kosha altogether. She doesn't seem to lack attention for the strangers anymore. "I'll be right back," she murmurs to Faanshi, starting to trudge through the sand to the gathering in the water. Her nose is raised more than a tad, her eyes narrowed. She doesn't notice any of the newcomers beyond being sure of them not being part of the group busy with what appears to be ritual sacrifice.

Gliding easily deeper into the water, Katya seems remarkably composed, considering the man at her side is holding a dagger against her icy skin. She does not struggle against his touch, the proudly lifted head exposing her throat even more. Legs, having taken already a deeper shade, begin to paddle easily through the water as she remains close to the Najskor, one arm slinging around his chest. Her usually passive blue eyes shine with the light of triumph.

Even as Starfang seems to decide to make this her business now, Faanshi rises gingerly to her feet, profound uneasiness radiating from her willowy frame -- veil or no veil, sari or no sari, this maiden's body language is more than enough to project her discomfort to the world at large. Kosha gets up too, not quite as synchronized with his young mistress as the Najada are with one another, but still the hound is sensitive to the halfbreed's moods. And the hound seems to sense now that something is amiss.

Drawn by curiosity, Okalani has come to the beach, all the way to the shoreline, her two personal bodyguards gathered around her. The young priestess' eyes drift away from the spectacle long enough to see the arrival of Emilee and her escort and a hand reaches out to the Shaper as her gaze returns to the spectacle unfolding. Lips are drawn tightly over her teeth, yet her face reveals no further expression than awe.

Telepathically to Izak and Okalani: Katya's triumph echoes in her thoughts. Her mind is filled with a solemn, deeply impressed feeling. A flash of her the life she has passed, in service to Voyanoi, the looming shadow she can spot within the sea. The knowledge that she has the honor of being the chosen one. The conviction that she has done right, has not failed, and her life had a purpose, and meets its purpose now, within her death. While her body may seem weak in the hands of her husband, it is strength from within that fills her.

Ashai still does not move until Starfang does... he then looks around, not knowing anyone really... the foolish student... and the Order-Master. He approaches Okalani and stays a few yards away from her, his dark cowl catching the wind now as he stands, disregarding the bodyguards of the priestess, his gaze locked on her or so it seems.

Emilee slips down the stairway from the streets behind her escort. Eyes glued to his feet, she almost runs into his back when he stops and peers over his shoulder at the small ward he was leading. With a small motion, he directs her attention to where Okalani stands. Seemingly this is enough for the woman; she slips from behind the man and makes her way over to where the Priestess stands. Looking more then a little confused, as well as frightened, she attempts not to attract attention, and so keeps her gaze lowered.

Telepathically to Izak: An angry thought crosses Katya's mind, meant only to be heard by you. It focuses on the impression of Ursala's priestess, and her celebrating mood turns hard and regal with one command. *If she interferes again, kill her!*

The triumph in his wife's eyes is reflected in Izak's, brightening with keen pride. Bloody this ritual may be, it is certainly not being done without consent. Yet what is he waiting for? Why does that knife hover in the air just inches from her darkening skin? His own hand begins to flush with a dark, bluish-grey colour, just as the bodies of the two remaining Najada are already mostly dark.

Vlad, the brother of the Najskor, and Hedeon, the son, again turn to look at the gathering on the beach. Nothing is said, but every fibre in their being cries out warning. Approaching this group will not be met with friendly discussions.

Telepathyically, Izak's private reply is stark and cold. *Any who interfere will be killed, or we will die and join Vodyanoi with you.*

Telepathically: Okalani's presence may be sensed by the Najada, but perhaps not. Shocked she is at this display of human sacrifice, but she struggles not to interfere, nor to show approval. She watches.

Starfang still needs some time to reach the group, yet doesn't seem to be slowing down at the sight of the definitely capable-seeming guardians of this ritual. It's quite amazing how much anger she can radiate just by gait.

Telepathically: Izak is certainly aware of the presence of all the people on the beach, the Priestess of Ursala most especially. Interfering with this ceremony will not be welcome, and will be met with a show of force greater than that which was witnessed at the first invasion. This is different from a mere raid. This is their life, their religion. Everything they hold most precious, and not one of them would hesitate to die for it. The song of sacrifice continues unabated between the four, even with this threatening undercurrent to it. And uninterrupted, the Najskor begins to swiftly reflect over his life with the woman. Just as his son does, and his brother (albeit to a lesser extent.)

The water has claimed almost all of Katya, her dark body, gliding upon the waves, clinging to the man who seems about to kill her. And while there is no fear marking her expression, and no longing of safety in her gestures, her body is still shivering -- trembling with expectation. She has caught the impressions and emotions going haywire of all those not understanding at the beach, even caught Starfang's anger -- but she is ignorant of them. The only focus remains Izak and a presence that - while it can not be seen by anybody else -- is still present for her. Waiting for her, and expecting her.

Waves washes over Okalani's feet, doing no harm to the sandals worn by the Pasiphaean priestess who, in spite of the gruesomeness of this ritual, seems unfazed. As the mongrel Hound at her side moves forward, she only lifts a hand, stopping him with neither words nor magic, for it would just destroy the... serenity which is almost palpable in the woman who wishes to die. Izak is regarded, his features, his skin and at last the hand holding the knife which will take his wife and priestess' life.

The small shaper finally takes her place next to Okalani, her escort standing behind her and watching the ritual with what he hopes is a bland expression. Emilee herself finally seems to get up enough nerve to lift her eyes slightly... her gaze shifts from the Priestess to the stalking Starfang... her first sign that something is truly not right here. But it's Starfang, so this could be just a normal outburst... until her eyes seek the waves. Her eyes widen as she spots the pair and the blade.

There is a great deal of contrast between the two healers who had just been conversing by the dog. One is short, the other tall. One is brusque and blunt and straightforward, the other shy and gentle and retiring. One is a Sylvan, the other a halfbreed raised by the Varati. And while the one strides forward with confrontation in her eyes and displeasure in her every motion, Faanshi stands stock-still where she had been previously quietly praying, not very long ago.

Her bier, still at her feet in the sand, finally goes out; the scent of the incense within it, nevertheless, lingers in her vicinity. But she has forgotten it now. She gazes with sharply liquid eyes towards those in the water, her slender frame gone tense. No, it seems to her, this is not a punishment; the woman seems to be... pleased? But Faanshi is a healer, and her healer's soul cannot help but recoil in alarm at what every sense tells her she is about to witness.

Holy Mother oh please let this not be what I fear Holy Ushas if there must be blood let it not be the blood of her life... The desperate prayer shoots through her head, and in its wake comes a memory of a dream, a voice gently encouraging her to be strong, but to that voice within her she silently wails, I'm... not sure I can! Not now, not so soon!

Katya suddenly pushes her upper body out of the water with all of her remaining force. Her head is thrown back, arms lifting high above silvery hair shining in the last rays of the deep crimson sun. The swift, fluent motion sprays more drops of water around her, letting Vladimir, Hedeon and Izak glimmer in a play of evening light. For a brief moment, her lips part, evoking one word: a mangled, barely understandable, "Now!"

Yet it is not her voice which draws attention, but a vision she sends to everybody present: Najada, Atlantean and drywalker. An image of herself projected just a few moments into the future, the ceremonial dagger slicing up her throat. And the full conviction that she is giving herself in to this sacrifice, to the god that lurks below the waves. Taking on the shape of a strong, powerful man, Vodyanoi has deemed her worthy and faithful for this final act, and is waiting to take her lifeless body into his arms and her strong spirit to the underwater realm for an afterlife.

A gentle breeze ripples across the surface of the dark ocean and over the sandy beach. A towering Varati clad in the uniform of the Amir-al's Lions of Fire. His haik stirs as the salty breeze reaches him. He inhales deeply of the fresh ocean air. Moving further onto the beach, Jihaad's jade eyes catch sight of the gathering near the water's edge. He approaches to better see what is transpiring.

Ashai looks after Starfang, still not moving a muscle, then he moves towards Okalani, stopping a few yards from her again. His staff makes a grinding sound again as he rests its tip in the soft sand, the dark opening of his hood seemingly glued to the scene, sensing that something is about to happen, something he will most likely not forget.

Starfang stops in her tracks, her narrowed eyes suddenly widening not in amazement, but distaste. Her face pales and for a moment, she seems even about to throw up. Subduing that urge, she does spit on the ground, indicating a small measure of how much she detests this which is delusion, and folly, and perhaps even a little sacrilegious.

Telepathically: Okalani continues to soak up the sensations brought here. In truth, she disagrees with human sacrifices to a God she does not worship, but she doesn't interfere, nor will any of those who follow Delphi. A solemn promise made, wavered only by her uncertainty whether to grow angry at Katya's deliberate breaking of Delphi's rules or acceptance for this prevents others from interfering.

Swift as a serpent and just as deadly, the Najskor's blade does not fail to hit home. It steals life away quicker than one may draw breath, slicing wet and slick in a straight line from the hollow of his wife's throat to the tip of her chin. Izak's face is frozen and tense, eyes blazing bright with a fervor that is only reflected in Hedeon and Vladimir. Thin lips are pressed into a tight line.

And then it is done. The killing blow is made, and crimson blood gushes out into the dark waters. But before the last spark of life may be snuffed and ushered swiftly into the afterlife, the Najskor bends to roughly plant his mouth upon his wife's. His last claim upon her before she is relinquished with honour and dignity to a greater force.

Jihaad stops his approach short of the water as the blade slices into flesh. The sight does not seem to phase the battle-hardened Agni-Haidar in the least, for he has witnessed far worse and even participated in gruesome acts of slaughter himself. One less Candala in Haven to be bothered with. The Amir-al certainly works in strange ways.

It might as well have been Faanshi stabbed by the blade, the way the shudra maiden jolts violently when the weapon strikes home in the Najada woman. Only the fact that she is not close enough to Katya and Izak to sense the extinguishing of her life keeps the shudra maiden on her feet now -- but still, the simple sight of someone being killed practically right before her eyes pierces her through and through. A choked, breathless gasp escapes her, a bare squeak of sound. And then she whirls, her bier and her basket entirely forgotten, to bolt away from the beach and what she has just seen.

Forgive me Starfang I can't I just can't I can't stay oh Holy Mother... It doesn't take more than a breath before Kosha whines and follows her, and soon enough, the maiden and the hound are out of sight.

Ashai seems to have turned into a statue, then slowly pulls down his hood, thus revealing his unmoving face. He looks at the slaughter and nods, then his jaw drops as he sees Starfang spit... he seems to tense up now, moving past Okalani, opening his mouth, but no sound escapes it. He shakes his head slowly and now is suddenly in a kind of highly defensive stance, his staff resting at ease in his right hand.

Katya's throat rips open under the sharp blade, and her last breath of life is delivered upon her husband's and executioner's lips. As her lifeless body sinks deeper into the water, only the head and shoulders held by Izak's grip, the long, silver hair spreads over the uneven surface of the sea.

Yet in the moment of her death, the telepathic sending to all those present seems stronger than ever, letting the sea and storm god Vodyanoi become almost real as he claims her spirit. The last mental images that cross the connection reveal the newly claimed belonging with a touch of finality.

Then, in the next second, the link is gone -- not simply broken from one side, but erased from existence, the mind it enforced vanished from existence. The Obeta od Miazga is done. The god has claimed his Kurie.

Emilee shivers slightly as she takes an involuntary step back once the sending ends, her hand coming up to rest upon her neck... as if to protect herself. Eyes still locked upon the scene in the water, she ignores the reactions of the others for the moment, concentrating on making some sort of sense of this whole thing.

The arm of the Najskor remains firmly around the neck and shoulders of his wife's, for his task is not yet done. Izak submerges her body full into the water, so now all that is visible is an occasional glimpse of her hair and a limb. As one, Hedeon and Vladimir also dip below the surface of the water and draw in closer. Where the cloud of blood is thickest, they begin to drink and breathe, taking in Katya's essence as deeply as possible.

All the while, Izak watches them with stern approval etched in subtle angles on his face. The collective gasp and the stares from the beach do not seem to reach this man. The death of one so close to him has hardly phased him. Then he looks up, a cold and icy gaze briefly passing over each gawking eyewitness.

Starfang makes sure to spit again as Izak's gaze passes over her. However, most of her anger is for the woman who just died a perfectly senseless death. Insane. They're insane.

Jihaad mirrors Izak's gaze as it passes him.

A life is claimed in the name of a cruel God whom she doesn't believe in but Okalani doesn't make one motion, even if all around her do. Her arm is jerked back yet she doesn't fight. The sharp points of her teeth drive through the sensitive flesh of her lips, drawing blood in a vague echo of the amount flooding in the bay. As Katya's last thought dies, proving the woman's conviction of something which cannot be proven, she at last reaches out to those closest to her with her mind, offering comfort to those who may be shocked to have experienced the death of a telepath, to have sensed how darkness claimed her. But never does she look away from the scene. Only as she witnesses blood being drawn does she smile and nod, just once.

Telepathically from Okalani: Vague approval for the sharing of blood can be sensed only by those strong and closest to her.

So long as they don't approach and interfere with this ceremony, Izak couldn't care less what reaction the people upon the beach have. Once Hedeon and Vladimir have drunk their fill of this holy communion, the body of Katya is delivered with a gentle push into their awaiting hands. Then the Najskor dips below the waters, taking in the last wisps of his wife's essence before the ocean has dissipated it completely. Two pairs of Najada eyes turn to watch the surf, cold and glittering, whilst they wait.

Ashai's move is more like a sprint as he runs towards Starfang, his hand grabbing her upper arm after reaching her and he speaks with a soft, yet cold voice, "Do not... it is their way. If you insult them, you will be soiling her memory..." His grip is not painful, yet he seems to be trying to get her away from this place and sight.

Starfang turns her gaze away from the scene, looking at he who dares touch her, even pull at her. "You have one warning. Let. Go." Her free hand rests lightly on the one grabbing her arm, clearly not doing anything. "Let go now." See how reasonable she is? Not even drawing a weapon? Well, reasonable, apart from being very hostile in her words.

Emilee watches all this with huge eyes, neither moving to interfere, nor to get away. Only struggling to understand as she backs into her escort... and comes to a trubled rest with her eyes still locked on the slowly disappearing scene in the water.

When the Najskor re-emerges, there is a moment of hesitation where nothing seems to happen. Three pairs of eyes set within bald heads gaze balefully out towards those gathered on the shore. And then, both Vladimir and Hedeon disappear, submerging once more with the body of Katya cradled between them. They do not return, however, Izak has begun moving to the shore. The dagger he had used to kill his wife is resheathed, this becoming obvious as he re-enters shallow waters.

"Let go of her, Ashai. She is too smart to enter the waters." Okalani's soft words are carried to the Varati and Sylvan by the wind in a procedure which somehow emphasizes the calm conviction in those phrases.

Seemingly impervious to the hostility and obviously not impressed by Starfang's weapons, Ashai lets his hand where it is, the other hand ignored as he mumbles, "They will surely kill you, Starfang... please let us go. You are angry because of the slaughter? They will be angry because of your disrespect for a dead and their way, I am sure of that..." He is calm, almost cold as he speaks, the only thing moving are his lips and his hair that is ruffled by the wind. Then he lets go all of a sudden as he hears Okalani's words, mumbling, "As you wish, Order-Master. I hear and obey...."

Starfang didn't hear any of Ashai's words. Her eyes are locked onto Okalani, whom she now suddenly realizes to be here. She blinks. And keeps on blinking. A small frown denotes some measure of internal struggle in the small Sylvan.

The man responsible for the woman's death now steps upon the beach, his dark, bluish-grey skin standing out starkly amongst the backdrop of dark water and pale sand. Not a word is said, and hardly a glance is given to those around him before Izak calmly begins walking up towards the city. He seems as passive as ever, the only evidence of his recent murder being the bloodstains evident in crimson blotches along his skin.

Ashai sighs and quickly steps back from the Sylvan, his face sad as he covers it with his hood. He moves back behind Okalani quite quickly, sighing deeply and mumbles as he passes the priestess, "Forgive me, Order-Master." He then stands away from all the crowd at the beach, silent and unmoving.

Starfang isn't regarded with a smile, or a frown for a matter. Okalani's face carries the mask of utter trust in the Sylvan's common sense. Black hairs caress bare shoulders as she inclines her head to the two land0dwellers. "Thank you." Meant for the Varati or the Sylvan, hard to determine. A quick look at the Shaper at her side and now she smiles, fingers squeezing Emilee's hand lightly while the head of her thumb rubs over the sensitive webbing. "It is all right, Ashai." Eyes meet Izak's face only briefly before Okalani looks away, respecting an executioner's privacy.

Emilee watches the man make his way from the water, until the priestess addresses her, however. Her eyes fall to the sand by her feet as she once more slides a little closer to Okalani as her fingers close a bit more firmly around the saftey of her teacher's hand.

Starfang keeps looking at the High Priestess' face, the racing thoughts plain on her face. Brows knit and furrow, lips purse, an uncomfortable sigh escapes her. She wrings her hands.

The Najskor continues walking without stopping, and provided he is unhindered, he will keep going until he disappears from sight. And not once does Izak look back. Those left behind are utterly beneath his attention.

FIN  

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