Alik'r Desert, 17th of Rain's Hand, 206 4E
The Orc in black fled across the desert, and the Knights followed…
He's losing his mind, an Orsimer female thought and snorted after reading the piece of paper for the second time. She let it fall into the sand, beside her boots made of Duneripper leather. She was a tall one for a female, all covered in leather armor which was slowly cracking under the relentless onslaught of the desert sun. Her bald head was covered by a piece of her own clothing, wrapped around her head the way the nomadic Redguard did it. “He's losing his mind,” Atuul gra-Garmalah said out loud.
“He's drinking his own piss. Not very surprising,” murmured an Orsimer male next to her while he was picking up the paper from the sand. Atuul frowned and licked her tusks as her golden eyes gazed on the Orsimer. He was a head shorter than her but much bulkier, with the armor of moonstone and orichalcum only adding to it. She didn't understand why he was still wearing that armor, especially in the desert, because the gold metal was reflecting the sunlight so much she thought she could go blind any moment. The Orsimer looked as if he was radiating light, a round shield of wood and moonstone always attached to his arm and his sword in the sheath at his side. Most surprising was the gold-grey short cropped hair and mighty beard, because Orsimer rarely had hair of such light color. His silver eyes were watching her and she snorted again. The Third of Vosh Rahk...radiating light.
“I wonder how long will it take until we will have to do that too.”
She watched him stuff the paper into his sack and then shrug. “I hope it won't come down to that, High Priestess. We still have plenty of water.” He scratched his beard and looked around with a frown. “Between me and Yaman we have enough for water at least for a...two weeks.”
“Praise the Trinimac,” she murmured her silent prayer to the skies and then noticed Third's amused look. “What?”
“I'm not sure Trinimac has anything to do with that, High Priestess,” he chuckled.
“Do you doubt his guiding hand, Third?” she asked, baring her tusks at the male.
“I am the Third of Vosh Rahk, High Priestess,” he said and shrugged. “I am his Doubt. I thought you got used to it after the years we spent on the road.”
“Hardly,” Atuul grimaced. Truth was that she was surprised when the Prelate and the First decided that the Third would follow her on her journey. So long ago… It was just three years back when she entered the Room of the Triune, after another night of being haunted by dreams and explained what she saw in them. Prelate, the First and the High Smith heard her out with stone faces and agreed that her dreams aren't something to be taken lightly. She was blessed by the Warrior himself they said.
They understood the importance of her task and she expected she would get a proper escort, at least dozen of Vosh Rahk, but instead of that she was assigned to the Third and that big oaf of an ogre.
She still quite didn't understood why they chose specifically the Third to accompany her. Out of the Honorbound Three he was more of a philosopher than priest, keeping an eye on the integral struggles of the Temple. He was Trinimac's Doubt, always making sure they don't cross the line of fanaticism, but sometimes it was too much to bear, especially for her. Daughter of the Shielded Blade, the Penitent. Almost heretical. She would understand if the First sent the Second, Trinimac's Wrath with her, but she had to take what she got.
After all, it was still better to talk with a heretic than a stupid oaf. Speaking of which… “And where is that ogre anyway?” she asked and saw how Third frowned after her words. He didn't like it when she called him that, but never said anything. No, he just watched and mulled about it.
“I think he went to catch us some dinner. He'll catch up.”
She looked at the sun, slowly descending down from its perch up at the sky. “You plan on continuing?”
He followed her gaze and smiled when she looked at him, blinking, waiting for the answer. “I don't see a reason why not. The heat is easing off, so we have at least two hours of sunlight and then another two in the night before it gets too cold. Plus, we haven't been so close in a very long time. And we're getting closer each day.”
She shielded her eyes with her hand and looked into the distance. “He has nowhere to escape now. There's nothing but sand around here.”
“And death,” the Third added and began walking to the southwest again, with Atuul reluctantly following. “He could die. And after two years we shouldn't let this chance just go.”
Two years, Atuul thought. For that long they completely lost him. He headed out of Skyrim to Elinhir and they believed he decided to head to Orsinium in Upper Craglorn. But he passed it and headed to Dragonstar instead and that's where they lost him. People saw him enter the city but nobody saw him leave. It was much later when they learned that he fooled them and never reached Dragonstar. It was just some other Orsimer dressed in his clothes. So they lost his track only to stumble on him two years later just a rock's throw away from Dragonstar in some shithole called Azra's Crossing. And the chase began anew.
And now they were in Alik'r Desert, following a lone Orsimer through dunes of sand and vultures just waiting for them to fall on the ground out of dehydration. They were constantly circling above their heads and it only irritated Atuul. But they were also circling above His head, shadowing his every step. It wasn't hard to track him, they just had to catch up. And each day they were getting closer. The Third said that they're a day behind, tops. We'll get you very soon. For the glory of Trinimac!
Her legs were weary from each day of walking, but she was used to that. She was an Orsimer. And we can't be defeated. Only delayed. It wasn't the walking, it was the heat, the sun. Back in Orsinium, it was never this hot, though in the summer the eastern end of Dragontail Mountains could get hot as down in the south.
Then they noticed a big figure in the distance, casually sitting on a rock that looked like it was about to crack from the heat, but the figure completely ignored the heat all around. As they were nearing, the figure became one behemoth of an Orsimer, dressed in simple breeches, leather straps across his chest holding shoulderpads of orichalcum in their place and with ornamented orichalcum bracers on his forearms. The dark-green metal contrasted to his bright skin, which was somewhere between green and light blue, almost like rotten olive. He noticed them too, brown hair tied into one thick braid hanging down his back, almost touching his bottom.
He was sitting with head being supported by his hand, as big as a shovel, looking like he was thinking, but Atuul very well knew it was just a pretence. He's not capable of such a complicated task. It was beyond her how they could allow him to join the Vorkhim Lorak. When he noticed them he stood up and as she and Third were getting closer the difference in size between them became much more prominent. She was tall and lean and the Third was shorter and bulkier, but in comparison to Yamanamub gro-Rugogamph they were tiny. He was almost a head taller than her and that was something to say, because she towered above most of the Orsimer, but he was also twice times bigger than her. He was a giant among Orsimer. They say his father was an ogre, that his mother liked them big...whatever that means. And I'm inclined to agree. There is definitely some ogre blood in that mix. On the boulder next to him was leaning a big mace of bone and orichalcum, almost as big as Atuul herself. Maybe he's compensating something with that thing…
“What's today's catch, Yaman?” asked the Third when they were close enough and Atuul saw how the oaf lifted his left hand with four lizards long as her forearm hanging. She heard the Third snort. “Well, better than skeevers. Definitely. And we have a food for at least three days.”
“Two Reachmen with one mace,” rumbled Yaman - yes, they were using a short, because his name was hard to pronounce even for other Orsimer. But Atuul was satisfied with Oaf or Ogre.
The big Orsimer had eyes so close together it almost looked like he had put his head between a hammer and anvil and tried to beat some sense into himself, and for Atuul, it made him look even more stupid. Probably just as stupid as he really is.
They walked long after the sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, each tired step being carefully considered because the desert was full of danger. Holes in the ground hiding poisonous snakes or spiders for example. I hate spiders… There was something about those small disgusting things that made her want to squeal - but she was an Orsimer, High Priestess even, she wasn't allowed to squeal. Instead of that everything that had more than four legs, be it six or eight, met a quick crunchy end under her heel.
Desert is so much alike to mountains. Everything tries to kill you. Be it the heat, the wildlife, even stupid plants are trying to kill you here. Almost everything in this wasteland is poisonous - the smaller the more painful the death. Mountains weren't that much different but there was something about mountains that was more...pure. No poison and such. Avalanches, cold, predators...everything there was as cruel as a desert but more up front, not hiding. Because Trinimac is testing us and he's not hiding that. Not like these desert gods of the Redguards.
They saw a beacon of light in the distance and Atuul noticed that it was much closer this night than before. Our prey. They traveled in silence and she didn't complain about that. There wasn't a need for words, not among Orsimer, especially on the road. Each word was wasting a breath that could be used for pumping another ounce of strength into their bodies, to take another step. And they were saving it.
The Third suddenly stopped and Atuul nearly bumped into him. She blinked few times, just realizing she was nearly sleep walking, and rubbed her eyes. “Something's wrong?” she asked.
He turned around to look at her and she noticed his tired face. An aging Orsimer… If he was still following the Code of Malacath he would be already looking for his Good Death. What a barbaric practice, she thought. It was different in Orsinium, aging Orsimer weren't expected to go looking for their death - though many still did that, out of their own volition. No one was forcing them but nobody was stopping them either. Some roots remain rooted deep in the ground…
“No, High Priestess,” he rasped, his throat sore from the thin rations of water, just as hers. “I think this is safe place for a camp. We have done enough walking today.”
“Praise Trinimac,” she murmured and nodded. “Yes, I agree.” She then looked at Yaman and bared her tusks. “Prepare the camp, Ogre.” He looked at her with his dumb look and then just rumbled.
“Hmpf,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth and he began preparing their camp. It was Yaman who did most of the carrying of their supplies - bedrolls, tents, waterskins, dried dung for fire, few twigs of wood. Atuul had her own backpack, mostly with food, but otherwise light on her feet, supporting herself with her staff. The Third was carrying slightly more than her, but otherwise light too - if there would be a fight, he was the first one to meet it.
She looked around and sat down into the sand. Yes, this is a good spot. They stopped near a rock column sticking out of the sand, looking like a finger pointing out of the dune - or like something else - with a few boulders around almost like if thrown there by giants playing some stupid game with rocks.
The Oaf was building tents around a campfire made of stones, preparing and unrolling bedrolls. They had two tents - one for her, and one for the Third and Ogre. Her mind always wondered how the Ogre could even fit in there, but he always did. Both Orsimer males never slept in the tent at the same time, because one of them was holding a watch. She, as a High Priestess was excluded from such subsidiary tasks. She noticed that the Third pulled a rope from his sack and was laying it on the ground around their camp. Against snakes he said. He said that the rope prevents the snakes from going any further and the fire should prevent spiders and scorpions from venturing too close too.
“I pray to you, Trinimac,” she murmured into the night. “May my soul remain pure-”
“May my heart remain true,” the Third joined, “and my arms remain strong.”
“Give us the strength to catch our prey, Trinimac, for we are your chosen, devoted. We are penitent basking in your glory, praising your name. May we finally end this chase,” she continued and then sighed. “Please, Warrior, may it finally end.”
The Third took a seat next to her, watching Yaman starting a fire. She saw the black circles under his eyes, the cracking of bones as he began unbuckling his chestplate. “It's not up to him, High Priestess,” he said after few seconds of silence. “We might have his blessing but ultimately it depends on us.”
“You don't believe in his might?” she snapped at him, her gaze burying into his skull. But the Third didn't flinch, only sighed.
“I do believe in his might,” he said and looked at the stars. “I feel his presence as we walk across the dunes, watching us. Not watching over us, just looking. Testing. I see him everytime I look at the Warrior up in the night sky. Watching. Measuring us.”
She frowned. “You think he's not looking over his devoted?”
“Honor in Strength,” he began reciting the Book of Truth. “Strength in Unity. Unity in Honor. These are his words, written down by the Penitent. Do you really think that our Lord would deem us worthy of Lightfall if he had to watch over us at every step we make? This is our test, this life. It is an Arena and we Orsimer do what we do best. We fight, only this time for our place in this world and in the next instead of just fighting for the sake of fighting. We fight to prove everyone they are wrong. How would it look if the Warrior had to come down from his throne in the Halls of Honor and fight the battle instead of us?”
“And does that bring you comfort, Third of Vosh Rahk?” she asked and he looked at her, his silver eyes staring at her with sadness and then looking down on his hands.
“No, High Priestess. It makes me try harder at everything I do,” he murmured.
“Trinimac's teachings are meant to show us the way to better tomorrows. Not necessarily for us, but for our children. For our race. But what is faith without comfort? Do people want to believe that Vosh Rahk watch over them or would they prefer that Trinimac is watching over them instead?” she spoke and with every word the Third seemed to sag, almost like if he was being beaten by her words.
“We can't forget what we are,” Yaman suddenly rumbled from the fireplace and she frowned. How could you understand, Ogre?
“And what are we?” she snapped at him. “Beasts in everyone's eyes. Fallen from grace, being tricked by Daedra. Boethiah, Malacath...it's those two that constantly test us, not Trinimac. Boethiah is testing us for the weakness of mind and Malacath for the weakness of body, not Trinimac. He watches over us, he wants us to succeed.” She stood up and headed towards her tent. “And we will, we will end this chase very soon, prove both Evil Spirits that we do not bend. In Trinimac's name.”
“As you say, High Priestess,” she heard the Third murmur as she crawled into her tent. “Sleep well, Daughter of the Shielded Blade. May Trinimac watch over you.”
He always is. In my dreams.
In the garden…
Comments
Just a note regarding the Lore here. Since we know very little about Trinimac´s actual woshi... more
Anyway, yeah, I did some polishing of Trinimac´s cult, cutting out some of the sickness and flaws ... more
Anyway, yeah, I did some polishing of Trinimac´s cult, cutting out some of the sickness and flaws of Vosh Rahk... more
*sniggers darkly and rubs hands*
*sniggers darkly and rubs hands*
I never thought the Vosh Rakh would still survive after that whole event in Orsinium in the Second Era.
I never thought the Vosh Rakh would still survive after that whole event in Orsinium in the Second Era.
I shudder to think how they even... well.. you know...
I shudder to think how they even... well.. you know...
I never thought the Vosh Rakh would still survive after that whole event in Orsinium in the Second Era.