Shila Methazar

02/26/2011

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In the world of Feonora, the Malornians are a race of reptilian humanoids, tall and slender...intelligent, tough and agile.  The natural body tone (or coloring) of a Malornian is usually solid and even, though the color itself may range from light green to dark blue, with hues of gray in between.  It has been observed that the "pattern" - for a few rare members of this race are adorned with a pattern - of any given Malornian is based not whatsoever on the parents.  Malornian society, though it has many distinct facets within, universally adheres to a staunch view of class, nobility, and a kind of fighting ethic that few fully understand...the closest analogy we may conjure is something the Humans might call a 'Warrior Code.'

The amber rays of the evening light filtered down upon the face and shoulders of Pethanlu, casting a long shadow across the oval-shaped room.  His formidable size, tall and muscular even for a Malornian, belied the position of a noble or a warrior...the head of an important house...or, as it happens to be the case...all of these.  The adornments of this well-decorated room, with its sturdy furniture and hand-woven tapestries, basked in the light coming through three magnificent windows, and as Pethanlu gazed at the distant mountains his mind and thoughts were fixed on the words that had just been spoken.  "You've made up your mind then..." he spoke aloud without turning from the window.  "Yes," came the confident reply from across the room.  "I will go.  I want to do this.  And I DO believe I am ready father."  Pethanlu turned to look at his daughter, so confident and strong, as she had always been, and felt a rush of pride, which quickly gave way to a current of concern.  "You'll set out tomorrow, before the dawn breaks.  Your companion has already been decided by the Group of Nine.  The two of you will meet at the Yuanizu cliffs...from there you will depart together.  Whatever happens...” He paused to choose his words, “...remember that you are...special.  You always have been."  Pethanlu placed his hands on Shila's shoulders and gave her a look of reassurance, and, not wanting to say 'goodbye' departed quietly.  And though Shila didn't know it at the time, this would be the last she would see of her father for many years.
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Shila had grown up in one of the most well-regarded Houses in all the land. The first of five children, she had been raised from the start to represent her family with honor, and to serve her people.  Leadership, of course, is not a quality that can be fostered only through conditioning, for it is well known that leadership ultimately comes from within, a natural gift that very few possess from birth – though many try in vain to coax it from within (or mistake other qualities for it).  But that was a concern put early to rest, for Shila had always displayed such natural confidence and charisma that she had been one of the most well thought of younglings, always caring for the younger Malornians and keeping her oft-misguided peers out of trouble.  It seemed her destiny had been set from the beginning, which was both a joy and a pride to her mother and father, both of whom carried a heavy responsibility as ranking members of the Malornian nobility.
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The morning light touched the top of the cliffs above, signaling the start of a new day and, for Shila, a new adventure more exciting than any she had previously known.  She of course had arrived early and in her usual, dutiful manner had been diligently tending her small crossbow, which was one of the most well-maintained and, in her capable hands, deadliest of weapons...at least if you counted the Malornians in her age group.  As with so many of her qualities this was an attribute she seemed to possess which somehow extended beyond her training.  With a special buckle attachment the crossbow (no larger than her two hands placed side-by-side) stayed secured to her waist, leaving room for the small, rounded weapon she carried in her hand.

"Are you ready?"  Distracted by so many thoughts Shila hadn't noticed the figure, her companion, approach from behind.  She turned abruptly to find a calm, familiar face.  "Agan?" Agan's physical features had long been a trademark, for he wore a pattern not of a solid hue, but one consisting of two discrete tones, a kind of dark green mixed with gray blue, that gave him a distinct quality of appearance.  The two had known each other from childhood, he only a year younger than her, and they had practically grown up together - Agan being from another of the noble families.  He had always been a serious one, bearing, like Shila, the responsibility of a future leadership role.  Being a member of one of the few noble families brought with it a great deal of privilege but, as Shila had come to learn growing up, carried with it a heavy burden.  "I'm ready."  Agan watched her, much as he had always done, in a way that gave her mixed feelings...as if she were being tested, or compared to some unknown thing (or person).  Their eyes were locked on one another for a moment longer, and then, without another word, they turned and departed.

The weather had favored them on the long journey, with only a few brief shower storms, followed by the bluest skies filled with large white clouds and flocks of Gulls and at one point Agan swore he caught a glimpse of a dragon passing through the clouds but Shila was sure that it had just been his imagination.  He watched the sky intently for some time after that and she marveled at the thoughts and wonders they both were surely feeling on account of this special mission.  The days passed.  They had traveled and hunted together, taking special care to avoid notice of the occasional wandering bands of Goblins and Orcs, or loud blustering Humans (who were usually best to avoid unless you were running low on supplies).  They had been seen by only one group of Elves, from a distance, and that had resulted in nothing more than a brief look, and a respectful nod.  In the evenings they would set up a simple camp and talk about their families and childhood.  There were occasional moments of laughter though, it seemed to Shila that Agan was being even more reserved than usual.  They barely spoke of the task at hand, each knowing what was to be done, and their own role in the affair.  Every so often one would catch the other watching or stealing a glance, which usually resulted in both of them quickly turning away in shielded embarrassment, and although neither would dream of openly admitting it, they were enjoying this time together...in spite of the circumstances.

End of Part 1
 


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