The Lost Islands
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Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.

kufa ni yetu sabili
Posted on April 21, 2020 at 07:00:09 PM by Nzingha


Change was coming. She could taste it in the wind, feel it in the restless earth beneath her hooves. There was a tension there not unlike the moment that preceded the clashing of two bodies in battle and it made the shaman restless to a degree that she had never been before. Action seemed to be the only antidote, so Nzingha paced from one end of the clearing to the other, strides flowing together into a singular, seamless motion that belied her agitation. Only the constant flitting of her dark gaze through the shadows of the surrounding jungle revealed the turbulence of the black mare's emotions - and the absence of the patience that in times of peace was as eternal as the elements.

Kufa ni yetu sabili, hapo ambao asaa.

The Marwari threw her head back, reared out to strike at the heavens as the trees murmured this warning to her again. "Nakulaani!" She spat, returning her hooves to the soil with enough force to form two small craters. "I bid those Fala to come, but they do not obey. How am I to be the ears of a nation that does not listen?! Pah!" The quick twist of a slender body, and she was pacing again along the furrow that had already begun to form. One circuit, two passed in this manner when the dark creature halted abruptly, tilting her skull-marked head to one side as if listening to an unheard voice.

Hawatasikia, shaman. They are already gone.

A snort, and the aggrieved snap of her silvery tail through the air. "Then that is it? I am to turn my back on the punguani I was chosen to lead? Without me, they have no eyes, no soul. Without me, they are dead." Curled ears twitched backward, then forward as if striving to hear a response - but there was none. Only the gentle tug of wind on her sable tresses, as if the spirits were trying to lead her, to guide her. And try as Nzingha might to resist - continuing to search the darkness that surrounded her with eyes like deep pits - the shaman was not accustomed to ignoring the umbra's will. With a final pah! of anger, the mare abruptly stalked from the glade and towards places unknown.

| ****************** |


This shore was as strange a place as Nzingha had ever seen - she, who had visited worlds where only spirits had tread before her. A drifting of white rested on the ground like ash - yet somehow it was cold where it kissed her lean body. The sky was grey and vast overhead as well, much like the sea she had just emerged from; the shaman tilted her head to one side as she gazed upward, uncertain how the heavens managed to support themselves without the innumerable pillars of trees to support them. Sure, there were sparse columns here and there, especially where streams trickled across the landscape. But these were gaunt and scraggly things - more brush than trees, in truth. How curious.

If there was any comfort to be found in this alien place, it was that the elements still spoke to her in the same tongue. Their whispers had been faint at first, to be certain - but with each moment that passed the bond between Nzingha and this land strengthened and she could hear them stronger, feel them stronger. And - perhaps most reassuringly of all - the restless earth had settled back into its deep slumber, no longer stirring fretfully beneath the Marwari's hooves.

Nzingha drifted forward like a creature dreaming, her mind only half-present as she heeded some call that none other could hear. The tips of her dark ears met in an arch, quivering occasionally in the moments before she made a sudden turn, or paused her wanderings only to resume them again. Eventually the skull-faced mare's circuitous route led her to some sort of gathering place for her kind - a temple, perhaps, or a sanctum. Her steps became lighter in response to the hushed power of this place, as if the ground were so fragile that her hooves might inadvertantly crack it open.

Finally the ceaseless murmuring stopped, and silence fell in the shaman's mind. The black mare stopped as well, finding herself in the center of the clearing. Shadowed by the sockets of her skull-marking, Nzingha's eyes were fathomless as they passed over the individuals who gathered. Searching, though the shaman could not have said what it was that she was looking for.

She was certain that she would know what she sought as soon as it was found.
NzinghA
mare . six . black sabino overo . marwari . 16.0hh

html by russell


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