Week 305: Shallow Breaths

  • Ready to join Post Terminus?

    Click to get started and submit your first character.

    Getting Started

Kaizaell Songe

New Member
Apr 3, 2020
22
0
1
Latens
768✦
Exa
⏆6,809
Bounty
⏈0
Dahlitium (⏆50 per)
0⌯
Bigatium (⏆100 per)
0⍨
Auritium (⏆300 per)
0⍫
Vitatium (⏆1200 per)
0⌭
Caelitium (⏆6000 per)
0⌬
Word Count: 1047

The first sensation he felt when he woke was numbness to his extremities. Kaizaell pulled slowly at his arms, only to feel a tug at his tingling wrists. He sighed, disguising it as a heavy breath in case there were others in the room, and slowly opened his eyes a small amount to peek. He was in some kind of leather hut or yurt or something. He couldn’t quite tell, but there was a hole at the top of it where light filtered in, the thick beams of light visible with the dust accumulation in the tent itself. He grimaced slightly, then sighed, trying to relax himself, trying to think about what the hell had happened and why he was even here.

As his memories slowly trickled back to him he felt a moment of shock and fear hit him, he hadn’t seen Caniir. And if those damned monsters had gotten them he could only assume the worst. He stretched, trying to break himself from his bonds but his muscles in his arms and back screamed in protest and he let out a hiss of pain.

“Ahh, so it is finally awakened?” a voice said in broken common, as a figure stepped forward into his line of sight. He tried to play dead, but the voice tsked at him in response. “Now, now. Do not try to play the death, young tern.”

The Sniper grimaced, then looked up at the person who was talking to him. It was a massive velen woman, she had a spear held easily in her hand and she seemed to be using it as a sort of staff or walking stick as she got closer to inspect him.

“It is interesting,” the woman said, the light fully hitting her eyes. They were the color of jade, and looked far too human for her velen features. She blinked, then smiled slightly before stepping forwards and smacking him in the ribs with her spear. “It is more rough than many tern our tribe has met.”

Kaizaell felt the wind get knocked from him as the spear hit him, his ribs creaked in protest as sharp shards of pain spiderwebbed up his side and caused his numb nerves to shriek in protest. Luckily he was out of breath or he might have actually cried out from the sudden influx of pain. As it was it took him a few moments before he caught his breath and was able to breath again without causing pain to dance along his jagged nerves.

“See mother?” the woman said, turning towards a shadowy part of the tent he hadn’t noticed before. “It doesn’t seem like the weakened terns we’ve brought before, yes?”

A voice spoke from the dark in a guttural language that was alien to him. He wasn’t able to understand what was said, but he saw the reaction in the woman before him. She seemed excited, like a child that has found a new toy, bouncing on her toes as if she was ready to jump any way she needed to.

The velen woman responded in the strange language, grunting hissing and gnashing her teeth as well as gesticulating in wide arcs as the pair communicated. He slid his arms, trying to find a way to free himself, but the bindings had bitten in tight to his wrists. He felt a tingling, the pinpricks of feeling and blood flow coming back into his hands. At least they were still there and he could feel them now, that was something.

“Tern,” the woman said, seeing him move strangely and cutting off her conversation with the other that must have been her mother. “Why struggling? Does the comfort of the Yurt not blunt your heart?”

Blunt? The young man thought, confused for a moment. She must have meant something else, but he looked back up at her and saw her grinning. A chill ran up his spine as the elder woman seemed to say something in a guttural language to the younger velen. The elder stepped forwards into the light at the center.

Her skin seemed to be made of old parchment and a bluish color, something about her made his skin crawl as she bent down to take a closer look at him. Her eyes were filmed over, but were a strange grayish color, not the usual milky white. Her hands, thin and frail looking, spread ahead of her as she grasped his head. A low growl from the woman with the spear made him freeze in place as she did it, not wanting to incur more wrath than was necessary.

She seemed to study him with her sightless eyes and her rough hands, they felt like course leathers left too long in the sun, and seemed to alternate between shaking her head or nodding, before the inspection seemed to come to an end. She let go, then smacked him in the face, the frail looking hand seeming to become hard as stone as she made contact with his face. He grimaced, but refused to make a sound and spit some of the blood in his mouth on the floor to the side, careful to not get it on the old matriarch.

The younger woman seemed to hum in appreciation, nodding slightly before stepping forwards to lead the elder woman to the tent entrance.

They talked in their barbaric tongue again, seeming to get heated for a few moments before the older woman waved her away, opening the entrance of the yurt herself and stepping out. The younger woman stayed by the entrance for a moment, then turned and looked back at the tied up soldier.

“Well, judgement shall be made swiftly for you,” the velen woman said with a toothy grin as she also opened the entrance to the yurt and made her way to step out. “If you do not wish it to go poorly for you or your mate you will stay here, and remain calm until the elders decide.”

The flap closed, and it almost felt like his captor had slammed the door in his face as the flap slapped against the leather of the rest of the yurt before he was fully left alone with his thoughts in the semi-darkness of the hut.
 

Patreon

Writing Week is 308

Discord Chat

Current Date in Araevis