From the Mother's Blood

His footsteps were nearly as silent as a hunter's when he walked, perhaps it was this that scared people most about the semi-crippled 'Mortician'. He walks with silence, as if the Death was his guide through the little winding road between huts. Bustling people halt to stare with pointed distaste at his markingless body( at least the fact he painted himself for such); the man was silent when yelled at. His eyes showing little care for their words as he moves toward the gathering place itself; he too often attended such things, his ceremonial part to ward the place of 'evil' so to speak.

He'd been doing it in place of his long dead father when he grew sick. He had continued to do it long after his father had died; he even going so far as to bury the man in the crypt that was his 'honor' to keep. And thus; when he reaches the area of need; with both the Seer and... At this his face is burning flush under that mask; the Huntress Pelm... He almost turns about to walk away; though, he doesn't because of his own belief that he is supposed to be making himself worthy in the Gods eyes, for he has not had their dream; he never had the dreams that would make him a member, as far as he knew none of his family Had...

"Hello, chieftess Pelm. Am I to assume it is your son, which whom I am to present his title?"

This causes a quirk of the eyebrow under his mask; the snake helmed Hermit makes him almost huff in exasperation; though, his roughly chorded voice is nearly whispered into the wind, "I will be warding the area against premature death, we would not wish for such a smart child to die early; that is,if it is required Star-Seer. Or if you so wish Chief Huntress...", his voice rough with both disuse and the harshness of his life. The fires that he lit for each member's funeral; the thick smoke required, funerals, and of course the brewing of preservative fluids was all in accordance with such a voice. His work was painful as it seemed... Though, he did almost choke up when he didn't say her name; but, after all, it was buisness... And how much he wished it was for pleasure no one would know....

Pelm nodded to the semi-rhetorical question the seer had given her, and then shifted her gaze to the mortician - he was invited of course, to every ceremony the main tribe held. The lesser villages, she knew they did not hold the appreciation she did for the outcast, so he was shunned from them. He was allowed house and home here, but only during ceremonies, because she did have to think for the personal appeal of her village. The people were unsettled when the grim figure was here, even though she, and her precious son Ziri were not.

"Any blessings you may offer are appreciated, Olekwo'l." she replied softly, giving him a gentle smile. She knew that he felt under appreciated, and she tried as often as she could to show him that he was not alone in the world.

~

Tai-rana did not turn to greet this fellow behind him, though the huntress seemed intent on greeting the unwanted mortician. His blessings were of little value, in his eyes. A single ward he put out would be triple the strength of that pitiful fool - but the wards weren't needed. Ziri was in the gods' favor already, having been sent a dream at such a young age, and gifted with such intelligence that rivaled his own.

"I hope you are not implying that the gods would send their young disciple an early death, for that is the only way one can die." he grumbled hoarsely. He had no intentions of starting a debate or fight, which he would win both if it came to that, but he took offenses to the glorious gods seriously. True, this other pygmy also served the gods, but he and the ukakua-skull bearing pygmy were complete opposites in attitude and personality.

It was a professional rivalry, in a way.

"I would not suggest; I would state. I may serve the opposite faces of the gods, but...", he just shakes his head with a grimace; his face showing little emotion toward his jaw line, "I won't bother with any debate; in the end it just ends up being more pleasure to the Mistress of Pain herself.", he does however return a small smile toward Pelm; he quickly moving out of the way, "I would just ask to ward against small things. Like disease, broken bones... Or...", and this last one causes him to reflexively twitch a single one of his crippled back limbs, "Loss of Limb...". He wasn't worried now about it; Pelm's go ahead was what he wished; the other man could stuff himself.

Now, no pygmy knew true magic; such was the same for the Morticifer himself; his wards were very, very general things; where as the Star-Seer would guard against the largest of things such as death itself in prematurity, the man who was removing skulls from about his waist guarded against the smaller, more common things.

This first skull; a baby Ukakua skull adorned with etched writing was that to prevent the boy from loosing friends and family to unfortunate circumstance; he was protected, others weren't. His fingertips are quick as sand is piled up enough to plant the skull upon; and then, with quiet movement he's off again; at an angle to make a triangle; quick are his feet and then; a good distance away he looks back, his eyes twitching a bit before continuing his work. Another skull, another ward.

The fourth ward is at the base of the podium itself; and, as such he's actually looking at which one to put down; though, with a quiet thought he muses, "At the heart of the problem is such, love always true, or a Hero's heart... Unbreakable, Pure, and a little Naive too..."; it's not like he wouldn't like to set both here; the closer they were to the boy...

The better; but; he knew setting both down would do nothing for the child. So, he must choose; or, better yet, the Star-Seer must; even if he thinks his wards are nothing but lies.

Tai-rana had been observant, watching every step, every careful placement around the central fire - and watched closely to what wards were placed down. At the last corner of the invisible diagram, the outcast faltered, not able to choose which ward to place. Of course, Tai-rana knew what wards the boy should have, and of the two, which would better suit the youngling.

"Give him the hero's heart, the Zariaua skull; the boy is friendly and likable enough that he can do without the blessing of Mayu-al; he is loved always as it is." he offered gruffly. Despite their differences, their intentions met the same goal, and respect and assistance was sometimes given.

He gave a grumble and stood up, himself, the glass orbs crossing over his chest faintly clicking, and the green feathers from his headdress rustled. He looked at the chief-huntress with the acid green eyes Zelk-al had blessed him with, and looked her over. Her body was fair, very graceful and beautiful for a female, yet she could be better. But after a little thought, one would realize it was better for her to be not as well graced; a huntress could grow irritated with her assets if they got in the way.

All in all, even he found himself attracted to the god-given beauty. But he was not permitted such pleasures when the gods were the ones needing pleased; and at this time, the gods required his services.

"Your son will be shown his duty this night, huntress. He should already be prepared; I hope you are ready to make your sacrifice to the gods." he grumbled dully.

~

Pelm gave a grim nod. It was required for these ceremonies for a sacrifice to be made; otherwise the final god would not show themselves, thus, the intended's duty not shown. The nature of the sacrificed varied from person to person; she, out of the love for her adopted son, would be giving the gods a blood sacrifice, the greatest offer one could make without losing limb or life.

Ziri should still be at the hut, with the little big-lander, but...Was he ready to prove himself?
She gave a small hiss, reaching for something on the ground, and threw it onto the pit of ashes - instantly the ashes sparked and lit, but only a small flame appeared.

"Ai!" she barked out, and instantly a small cluster of pygmies were at the spark, tossing misshapen logs at it, feeding the flames.

~

Ziri glanced out to the leather make-shift door, seeing light flickering distantly amidst the darkness, and a faint clamor.

"Oh, the ceremony must be starting soon..."

Fari's face harbored a look of that of confusion and curiousity as he continued to listen to Ziri talk about the ceremony he was slated to have later. He was also a little disappointed that he was unable to play at the moment but the curiousity and confusion seemed to take over that emotion and leave it void from the boy's face.

After a few minutes of solely watching Ziri and saying nothing, the boy finally decided to speak out and ask about the ceremony. "Ceremony..?"

The mortician nods his head; placing the fierce little animal's skull down with a snort of realization; he'd dreamt of this, "Mhn, well then..."; of course, with that he begins off for the last part of the four point triangle. The last skull is that of personal love and enjoyment, he quietly setting this down before muttering to himself. Those pale blue eyes look up as he shakes his head, "Dark Mistress, I just ask you let the boy's purpose be good for his soul is gentle.", of course, this is said so quietly no one but perhaps the Star-Seer would hear him. The older man always seemed to hear him when he spoke to the gods; though, he knew well that he was the other side of the coin; the side no one spoke with but ordered all the same.

The placements of the base needs, a ward against fear, a Mousing Bird Skull of all things; the ward of Virility, a rather strangely oblong skull of a species he only called 'Vile Eaters' and they were very, very virile from what he'd seen. The family crpyts had a near never ending supply of the small bastards. But, as he nears the end he sighs; a heaving shudder as he begins to pull out the final ward, this one being his gift to the boy as well...

For it was not only Tai-Rana who dreamt, who saw things.

This last ward was a beautifully wrought piece of metal; wound about itself in loops and folds that were almost as glorious as things of the past lives that he was shown when he slept. Yes, this gift too had a skull; stylized and shrunk down to comical proportions; was that of the young Pygmy's own markings. He halts a moment; before pulling out the self-same reliefe in soapstone; muttering a low curse as he looks between the two; apparently he had brought both... But; setting the soap stone down; the rather large Mortician turns around; only to need to shield his eyes against a sparking light... But; as the spark dies down he's able to smile; watching what was happening before wandering over and taking a seat. He needed a little rest; unlike the Hermit who was very welcome and able to stay more than two days...

He wasn't given that and so with his day being gathering things and his night being coloring them the right colors; he was a tired man!

However, as the others are called out; his double triangle having been completed; his eyes are drawn toward Pelm; the shifting blue orbs a 'blessing' in the darkest nights, but a curse when the bright sun shone and the trees barely filtered the light. Her body was pleasing to his senses, especially when she walked close and he could smell her, that pleased him the most. It was odd that; even though most paid little attention, or if they paid a lot they were disgusted with the 'lover of the dead' as he'd been called. Even though he was the sole reason they didn't bury the bodies wrong, or burn them in the wrong way, he was disliked, which he understood because of their obsession with markings; his own being 'ominous' due to the largeness of them and just how bright the color was....

But, that's all distracted by the cute wiggle of Pelm's bottom and he can't help but watch from where he is. Though, he'd be on his feet in a moment should he be needed by her or the other seer.

He always wanted to help! He just never had the chance to do more than wards!

Pelm stood a few feet from the growing flames, just outside the pit surrounded by stones that would contain the blaze. Her expression was stoic as she gazed into the heart of the yellow, orange and red fire. She clutched her spear tightly in her right hand, grinding the butt of it into the dirt. Growling in frustration, she turned the spear about, driving the tip partway into the earth, and flipped it into the fire, causing the stuff to hiss angrily and flare up.

She didn't know why she was suddenly so frustrated...Perhaps she was worried she'd lose her child to the gods - but no... They wouldn't have given him to her three years ago, just to take him away so soon, would they...? She pounded her spear into the ground, watching wryly as men and women alike labored to feed the flames, steadily increasing its size and heat. Soon, she wouldn't be able to stand where she was without burning her skin.

She reluctantly stepped back, turning around, and catching a glimpse of Olekwo'l; he was watching her. Sadly, she pretended not to notice this fact, and kept forward, walking past him. She knew of his...'Affections' for her, he made them plain, though she hid the fact that she knew of them. It was near impossible to have a relation with the outcast - even though she was chief-huntress, she could easily be banned, if enough of her people rebelled. She would be in such a situation if she took the elder pygmy - and could not think of that possibility, no matter what. She had to remain chief-huntress, to keep Kiwi, to protect Ziri, and to serve the gods.

But they were the ones tempting her with this idea - it was so difficult! She couldn't tell what path was right; and what would happen due to her action, or inaction. She forced herself to retreat into the shadows before letting out a sharp whistle. A thunderous flapping of wings, and Kiwi was in front of her, kneeling down. She grabbed firmly onto a tuft of fur over his neck, and vaulted over onto his back, just in front of his shoulders.

She needed to take a quick flight, to clear her head...

~

Tai-rana paced around the flame, muttering small chants under his breath, walking slowly because of his posture. He hobbled on, though, fortifying the wards that the mortician had set up by placing his own. Personally he had no doubt of the outcast's wards, but professionally, the pygmy's 'little' wards were somewhat lacking.

The boy needed greater assurance; the seer didn't think the gods had any ill will in stock for the boy, but he had the impulse, probably sent straight from the gods, to put out wards against mischief and harm. The gods had something special in line for this youngling, but what they were planning, they refused to reveal just yet.

~

"My ceremony - I got a call from the gods, and tonight I'll find out what they want from me!" Ziri trilled happily, squirming in his seat a little. He needed to stay inside until the time was proper; his mother was supposed to fetch him, then.

The mortician's head turns; he could tell, without much doubt; that the Huntress was a distressed individual... Odd that she was so close to her son's Passage Rite. He stands up though; he already starting to feel the sweaty ichor of his body channeling through his flesh. His eyes close quietly as he breathes in, teeth bared a bit as he exhales. The scent is that of rain; he can smell it even though it's hours away; the ocean always blew such scents to his home here it's the most pronounced thing he notices at the moment.

His hearing is good enough to hear the powerful wing beats; the bat... an Interesting Mount to say the least... Well, considering that he rode a Damn Newt... At that he has to think...

"Now where did my Newt go off to; it's been a couple of months..."

Of course; his thoughts are interrupted by the sight of the older Seer making his wards near, or even where his were. He wasn't afraid of them being moved; nor was he truly angered; he knew well his wards were small things, meant to keep away the small threats. The larger a ward the better it's protection...

But seriously I was not going to carry around skulls twice his own's height, weight, fierceness, or what have you for anyone. That was a death wish and just plain stupid. Plus, the gods frowned upon such silly beahvior... Or at least the one's who he worshipped did. So; he just keeps to himself, quickly pulling out one of the more interesting articles upon himself. A gleaming, golden, axe. Now; most pygmies would think of him as sacrilegious carrying a weapon of the God Metal, but truth be told they bit harder than the stone they used, were more interesting to wield, and, were actually quite warm to his touch, so; why not use what the gods had deemed them worthy. Or at least himself. After all, it was materials from the items his father had collected over the years, the unwanted items from the families; the children who gifted them with things not needed.

It was all Unwanted metal anyway...

And for now he is lost within the convalescent surface of the gleaming gold, thinking now on what he is to do next. And... and Pelm too of course... He can't help it, her scent is still fresh in his nose and her sight still sore within his mind. He can't not think of her... Gods be damned sometimes... Gods be damned...

"Go on after her, Mortician. Take Pikua'rah if you must." Tai-rana mumbled gruffly, clapping his long-past injured hand onto one of Olek's shoulders.

"The gods are planning something, though I am sure you know of this already...I do not think it will directly harm the young male, but then again, injuring his mother isn't a direct threat...." he grumbled, withdrawing his hand to bring it to his side. His intuitions given from the gods were never wrong, but then the intuitions weren't always good.

He stared grimly as the shadows in the far jungle moved; Pelm was staying close, wisely, but he feared that would be her demise.

~

Pelm gave a sigh, letting Kiwi fly close to the village, as long as he didn't fly too far off. She held onto his fur with one hand, crouching low on his back, and her spear held out with the other, as if they were hunting....A shriek came from behind her, and suddenly she and Kiwi were spiraling down to one side, one of his wings bearing extra weight. The vertigo was affecting her, and she had to shut her eyes tight as they spun around, growing ever closer to the jungle floor...

What had attacked the two of them?

~

Tai-rana's gaze narrowed as he heard the animalistic scream, and began to move forward at a surprisingly fast pace. He let out a low-pitched whistle, and a hollow whooping sound greeted him, and quickly a large gray white and black beast was at his side, kneeling down.

"If you want to come, get on now, Mortician." the hermit growled, glaring down at the ukakua-skull bearing pygmy as he climbed onto the saddle of the massive lemur, though she was just big enough to carry two.

The Morticifier looks up with a quiet smile on his lips; although he does shrug a little, "It's not often I get advice from the gods... I did dream of something like this. The fire burning... But, it must n-"

At the older males interruption his eyes widen a bit; his features growing sterner under his skull helm as he listens. His eyes flitting a bit to the side as he cocks an ear to listen. His eyes widening to a fair round disk of shock as he hears a scream in the forest, his entire body whirling into a fully standing pose taller than the hunched Pygmy, but not by much; he stares into the forest. Apparently the look on his face was either shock, or pure, unadulterated anger, though, when asked to mount, the grim faced Mortician can only nod curtly; and without ceremony pulls the cape and shoulder leather free; allowing him much more free movement than before.

He didn't care if it wasn't his place to challenge the gods, at this point his heart was racing; his pulse pounding. Although mounting the Lemur would be awkward for him. He does so quickly and efficiently; not caring to waste much time as he breathes a low, dull huff, "Lets go then, and I pray that we're there quickly enough. I know how fast she is...", and with that he lightly scratches the lemur's back, "I'll be hanging on..."

And of course his two lower back legs are wedged under the saddle even as his upper arms grasp the leather seat with an iron grip. Would it be a bad thing to admit he was scared of heights?

No... Because he knew Tai'rana's sense of humor, and even in this dire situation he'd love to see the Mortician bleet in fear as they lept from tree to tree...

Hell he might get that anyway....