Born in Mist and Smoke

There's a saying in my homeland. "You are born in the mist, and you die in the mist. But you live in the sun." It's a saying we brand on our souls. Where is the light now? No where to be found in this cavern. Still filled with the choking, blinding, stinging smoke of war. The ashes of destruction to replace our hay pile beds. The embers of violence in place of the comforting coals of a homely hearth. We know of war and violence. The Tabaxi I mean. We aren't ignorant of it, pacifistic fools who drop to their knees in surrender at the first sign of steel. We just don't understand it. Why attack your neighbors? Sure they are of a different tribe, and tribes must quarrel from time to time. But your neighbors are also your greatest allies. The longer you have been neighbors, the stronger the partnership. Eldilia and the Aldini should be the greatest force on D'aalla.

I was meant to keep traveling west you know. We Tabaxi don't linger in one place for very long. But then I met you, Izek. So eager to show a stranger your home. Your "Calla." Your tribe. So I fought that ancient call that drives my people. I, gently, slowly, hesitantly, began to set roots into the ground. I met the others: Marisela, Julos, and Byr-an. Oh how we explored and played. We grew together. Had the arguments of youth, short-lived feuds that ended over the frozen delight, Sunt. Your tribe became my tribe. I thought less and less of my home in the mist. The call to explore and travel silenced. Had I done it? Had I found what my people have been searching for? A home in the sun? Hah. I was young, foolish. There is no home for us in the sun. And I mean not the Tabaxi. But us, our tribe. The hopeful.

It began the same way it always does I suppose. With screams. We were always near the border, close enough to know it was possible. But our. No. Your Calla was so small. It never was a target. It was a message. I do not knows whose cries I first heard, the song began so quickly and loudly. Soon after was the fire. Already so hot in the Calla, but not like this. Blistering, flesh-eating heat. No amount of water, no amount of sunt could quell it. Byr-an was the first I saw. His mother lay over his body. She didn't see, or perhaps she did not care, the sword plunging into her back. That scarlet armor. Oh, how it shines in the light of flame. Did you know it's the same shade of blood? You can never face an Eldilian and know if you're their first victim, or the latest in an unforgiving chain. Marisela was shouting my name, her arm outstretched towards me, when the arrow replaced her tongue. We had shared many embraces, countless secret nights telling the stories of the stars. Never had I felt her warmth as I did when her blood painted me. I never did see Julos. Sometimes I dream that he escaped. But I know he didn't. No one survived. Only me.

I ran to the only place I could think of. The Precursor Tunnels. I know they are Taboo, remnants of Those Who Came Before, what you would call the Ancient Ones. But the Scarlets wouldn't dare follow, as different as the two tribes are, this they share. Seeing you already there was the first time I wept with joy. My first and oldest friend. With you by my side I knew I could survive this tragedy. There was no time for words to be shared. We delved deep into the tunnels, which at first seemed like any other cave system. Sure, there was the thick sense of unease in the air, but that was to be expected. Soon it opened into a vast cavern. Strangely carved walls and floors, old and forgotten arcane contraptions and glass mechanisms scattered about. It was maddening and sickening. One could not find any form of balance in this place, too long and we'd be driven mad. But we did not need long, just enough time for them to be gone. As I said, we were hopeful.

I never even saw them, maybe that was a mercy in some way. I only saw the way your eyes widened, the only sound I heard was some strange utterance. And then pain unimaginable. Your skin melted in seconds, and by the time the flames died you were mostly bone. My right arm was completely ruined. The rest of my flesh burned beyond belief. I should have died. In many ways, I wish I did. But the stars and my resolved saved me. With the determination of Haerades I swore my vengeance. It took time, I do not know how long, until I could move again. Small pools of stagnant water and oddly colored mushrooms sustained me.

In that time, I explored my new home. I understood very little of these artifacts. Until I saw something that fed the flames of my new purpose. Some illusion showing a device or mechanism, runes and symbols I still can't decipher. But in the common tongue on forgotten notes, I saw its name. "Heart of Nebula." These were truly wonderous notes, left abandoned because who would dare trespass. They said it had the power to raze an entire continent. I had just started this new path and already my weapon lay before me. Even in all my suffering I was still hopeful. It was not in that bizarre cave. It was scattered. Hidden. Distributed across the ruins of the Ancient Ones. But that was fine. I had time. War is no short thing. So I heeded that ancient call once more, but the melody had changed, honed into a piercing clarity. I explored. Discovered, and uncovered, many things. Little I understood, but they taught me in their own ways. And as I wandered about, a prince died, and the war was over. Over? I wasn't done yet. No. No. NO! The war only ends when the warriors are gone.

Our fire is dying. Let me rekindle it. Forgive my smile, it has been too long since I reminisced like this. Too long since we have talked.

Ah. The flame flashed there, just for a moment, but enough for me to close my eyes. They open, fully now, and I see the truth again. You are not Izek. You are just his remains. Only a skull.

The wounds have never fully healed, nor do I believe they ever will, not with tears that sting as they fall and ruin the healing.

I shall return shortly Izek, I must travel to Iolex. A crashed city, so certain scholars say. Perhaps there I may find my answers.