Light amidst the darkness

[Alabaster Presidio]

Their base camp had been established, a rough foothold on the broken coast.  The initial storm had passed leaving their settlement battered but not broken.  Much like the spirit of his people.  They had endured, as they always have.  Theirs was a history of endurance and quiet strength.  It was only in the last decade that they have flexed that strength.  Directed by the grace and wisdom of the King and the ancestors that came before they spread outward from their homes, bringing the light of civilization and sophistication with them.  

False Gods were to be dispelled and proper honor to the ancestors given when appropriate.  The Dream Seers had seen the Destiny of their Empire was to stretch beyond the seas and touch all corners of this world.  His was but one humble campaign for glory amongst many.  He was not a fool, he knew of the plots against him.  The schemes of the other Lords and their desires.  He was well aware that they coveted what had been granted to him.  What he'd earned through blood spilled and bloodshed, but he couldn't find it within himself to care.  The land may as well be as barren as his soul, for the curse that he carried in his heart lifted his eyes in one direction only.  To the next battle.  Sometimes he could almost feel it in a tangible sense, pulling him in a direction of certain death.  But it never leads to his.  Perhaps tomorrow would be different.

"Make sure the base of that tower is sturdy.  Go wide and big, remember we don't care if anyone sees us and what we are doing.  We've nothing to hide, and if there is anyone alive on this rock beside us they will know we are here soon enough.  Let's just make sure we see them before they end up inside our tents."

He'd called out to the men that he had constructing a wooden tower.  Their first guard tower at the edge of the camp.  The edge of the forest on the beach was becoming a large clearing as his men continued to harvest the wood for buildings and the wall.  The wall was little more than a spiked barricade at the moment.  But in time they'd have a proper wall and a proper fort.  One that he'd need to name eventually. 

He'd continue his stroll through the camp, both arms clasped behind his back as he'd order men on what needed improvement here, and offer a helping hand there.  The energy in the camp was unmistakable though, there was a hunger in his men, one that food could not satisfy.  A hunger for action, the gift of the young soldier.  All of the energy in the world for making a name for oneself.  Ready to die for the cause and become a hero, a legend.  That would change with time and experience.  Heroics were not all they were cracked up to be, and it was easy to die for a cause that you believed in.  Living to serve it was a far greater challenge. 

[Dylena Tenebris]

From the moment they had set foot on shore, there was work to be done. A camp to set up, trenches and sandbars to build – with a good head start thanks to the commander's impressive display. Food, too, beyond just the fish they could catch in the sea. For Dylena, this was no different. Now, as shouts became a dim cacophony with the thrum of the ocean waves, the priestess set to her own work.

The soldiers had cleared a an area as requested, leaving her to make a shrine to draw the eyes of the ancestors to them, to seek their guidance and blessing. Her staff hung above the last tree before the clearing to indicate the area's purpose as well as its presence as the dark-haired woman refined the stones that marked the edge, too small for the tower but good enough for her desire. Candles from her own supply furnished the structure that resembled a house, their lights already flickering as she created a place for offerings, her hands touching the stones one by one, passing them back and forth between her hands as she listened to what the spirits told her.

They had yet to do a proper rite for the dead, for all of those who had not made it to shore. What she had offered was acceptable under the condition that they needed to live or risk joining the honored, but it could only be delayed so long. The urgency crawled along her skin as she lay the last stone in place and pulled out a brush and ink from the leather satchel she had brought with her. Laying out her own offering of silver coins, she drew her hands together in a symbol of the first King of Garlemald, the man who brought order and life to the place they now called home. Save those here, of course.

“Great Lord Lachite, First King of our Garlemald, hear me. Watch over your children in this new land. Guide us to continue carrying out your glory and greatness.” Her steepled fingers flipped from an upward steeple to point down at the ground she knelt upon. “We welcome you to this place and seek your wisdom. Honor us.” Name after name, each memorized through years of study of their nation's history. As she finished the invocation of each spirit, she painted the symbol on the stones of the shrine in ink, then continued on to the next.

Her words set aside those of the spirits around her, forcing their words away from her as she called upon the power of one greater than them, one who was not confused of death in a strange world or the sense of being robbed. A sensible spirit, and a proud one. And, more importantly, peace. She was far enough from the camp not to be in the way, but still easily seen, which was important. They may not be hiding their presence here, but there was no way of knowing if anyone living would be hostile or otherwise.

[Alabaster Presidio]

One could say that he was avoiding checking on the shrine as long as possible, as he busied himself with every other task the camp had to offer.  One could also say that it was inevitable that he'd come to see their priestess.  It was hard for him, to watch someone have so much devotion where he felt nothing.  It was hard for him to see other Speakers communing with their elements.  Especially other speakers of Earth, to have that sense of emptiness amplified before him.  It was his private shame, and he couldn't help but feel like he was missing out on a fundamental part of being alive.  He longed to feel the connection with his ancestors that others felt, to feel the comfort of their words and advice.  He believed in the Ancestors, he would be a fool not to.  Evidence of their power and wisdom flowed through every aspect of their society.  Priestesses such as Dylena embodied their voices.  

He believed in the Ancestors, but he couldn't for the life of him find an ounce of faith to put in them. 

His lack of faith, however, wasn't important.  There was far more at stake than his personal feelings.  His people needed faith, they needed symbols to cling to.  They needed the wisdom of their ancestors.  A connection to home and loved ones no longer with them.  The shrine was the least useful structure in the camp to him, and yet in its own way, it was far more important than even the watchtower.  He'd be a fool to ignore or rebuff that, or what Dylena had to offer this expedition.  Campaigns lived and died at the whims of their Ancestor's might and watchful gaze.  

He'd approach the shrine slowly, and as silently as he could in his plated armor, the ax on his back scraping lightly over his back.  He dared not interrupt her ceremony and prayers.  It didn't take one of the cloth to see with how many wrecks dotted the shore that the dead would be restless and numerous in such a place.  The beach was surely damned by the cries of so many lives lost over the ages.  They needed to be quieted and soothed.  Lowering his head he placed a closed fist lightly against his forehead as he offered a silent prayer to the Ancestors and the Men that died on the shore.  Both before they came here and those of their own that had lost their lives.  It was a hollow prayer, but the gesture was still there.  

Their culture was what separated them from so many of their conquests.  And holding on to that culture was important in the wilds.  Far more important than when you were surrounded by the walls of home.  These ceremonies and rituals, these self-imposed rules and restrictions of honor and duty are what tamed the wild hearts of men.  It's what allowed them to be better than the savages and beasts that their legions had crushed underfoot on the road to greatness.  They could not sacrifice their sense of self no matter the cost, whether to apathy or convenience appearances and routine must be maintained. 

He was content to wait silently while she finished her rituals.  As much as he'd rather ignore it, he needed to know how her work was going as well.  What threats she could identify and what wisdom she could bestow.  

[Dylena Tenebris]

Peace. There was no other way to put it. Every spirit felt different, no two presences alike any more than two living persons were, and each with a voice. Voices she had come to know and revere, soft reminders of home, even if some remained relatively silent. This was new land, something for each spirit to assess, but consent and blessings were given all the same. With each name, the sanctity of the clearing grew stronger, until it felt to her as though there were solid walls protecting the sacred place. Though the requests were draining, they lifted the weight from her shoulders, allowing her to finally feel as if she could draw a full breath as she called upon the last ancestor.

While the commander's presence was noted, it was barely so while her focused was so deeply committed elsewhere. Compared to his men, who clunked along as they passed with their work, he moved with considerable silence. She wondered if he knew how welcome the change was as the din faded, and the thought with it as she raised up her arms in a welcoming gesture, face lifted to the heavens with her eyes closed and breathed in the salty air, the fresh earth that was kicked up during the clearing process. A soft breeze drifted by, strands of hair dancing across her face as she lowered her arms with a quiet sigh, then capped her ink and carefully stored her supplies.

She brushed the dirt from her robe as she stood,, knees aching and legs stiff from kneeling for so long. She welcomed the feeling of needles digging into her skin, of the sensation that meant they were coming back to life and use. It was a pittance to deal with when compared to what she had achieved, for the peace of mind and strength it could provide. For their first semblance of home. As she turned towards the opening to her clearing, she blinded at the sight of the man who stood patiently waiting for her just beyond it.

“Good evening, Lord Presidio.” She offered the commander a polite nod.  “I'm pleased to say that the shrine is complete for those who wish to use it. My services are also available as needed.”

[Alabaster Presidio]

"The men will be pleased to hear that. You do important work here Speaker."

He kept his back straight at and hands folded behind his back. He tried to hide his disdain and disinterest from his tone, but he wasn't overly worried about if she picked up on it or not. The important thing was he was putting up the appearance. He didn't play the political game because he had no interest in it. He could appreciate the importance of appearances, however, but to pretend to be a master of that world would be like a boy pretending to be a general with real troops. He'd only look silly and harm his own causes.

"I would be remiss however if I did not ask if there was anything else that you might need."

Because her work was important to the others. And he needed to make sure their needs were tended to, moral included.

[Dylena Tenebris]

Such curious phrasing. Dylena lifted a brow at the commander's devotion to his men's needs, the distinct line between the two parties. It seemed such a small thing, considering how devoted he seemed to them, but it stood out like dirt on white satin. Lifting the satchel with her supplies before letting it settle on her shoulder. If he was aware of his own comment's weight, he didn't show it, but that could mean anything. Whatever rumors she had heard, she didn't know the man well enough to draw her own conclusions. Yet.

"We all do, my lord." She would gladly take the praise, but Devlyn was not going to take credit for clearing this area. The rest, yes, but credit where it was due. The men helped shape this place knowing its intent. There was no reason to deny them access to it now, especially after so much loss.

She pursed her lips slightly with a soft hum at his question, then shook her head. "No, my lord. There is nothing I cannot do myself just yet. I will let you know if there is; I imagine some things may be found on this island, depending on its resources." Depending on what those resources were, they may need testing, but that was a worry for another day.

[Alabaster Presidio]

He nodded. It seemed that she had things well in hand, which was all well and good.  It was the first step in their journey, and it had been a perilous one.  But they had arrived and constructed their first foothold, basic though it may be.  Faith was important to the people, and even he could not deny that there was wisdom with the Ancestors, that they could see the patterns of the world in a way that he could not.  He may not like it, he may not hold the same devotion as many of his people.  But he could respect it for what it was, and it was beyond deniable.  

"Then I wonder if I may trouble you for some words with the Ancestors.  I understand that you've just finished with the blessings and making this a new home for them yes?"  

From the little, he understood of it all, and he did understand only a little, that meant that she should be able to commune.  Assuming any of them were willing to commune with her.  Or on his behalf...

"I would very much like to know what it is the Ancestors have to tell you now that we've made landfall."