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morihaus · 9 months

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Teeth

The story of the Lantern is a story about hunger. Not just that, it's a story about eating, and thusly, a story about teeth.

In that dreary gray valley where everything began, hunger existed before matter. Before that first world rose from the dregs of the pitch river, when flickering spirits lived and babbled in forgotten tongues while the mightiest of lasting languages were spoken in the shiftless palaces of heaven, yes, these spirits yet knew hunger. Whether they admit it or not, they all learned from the river.

Boesha was one of these spirits, a mote who dwelt in the swell and lived only to be dashed against the shores. She fought and struggled to stay afloat, thrashing against black currents to wrench herself from the all consuming rapid and carve her name into the shale of the bank, but like countless others, she was too small to resist. But then, by chance, as she sunk down towards the riverbed, she found herself raised up; it was a golden world rising to the surface, and stood before her and the other sinking spirits was its maker, the daughter of the river: Tsae.

After carving her name onto that world, Boesha became Tsae's most loyal student. When Tsae spoke, she hung on every word; when Tsae was insulted, she made the sword to defend her name and the names of all creation; when she traveled, she raised Tsae's banner and shouted her name in every language she knew so that all of the valley would know of her wisdom and compassion for every spirit.

And when the scaled king of heaven descended to sculpt a son in his image-- building him from the black mud of the river so he would carry its hunger, a hunger so deep as to swallow the world-- and the first world was devoured by the pitch scaled prince, none, not even Tsae, were more furious than Boesha.

Long, long after all of this, Boesha stands with Tsae at the shore of the river Scodai. They watch as the 12th world, its every language and matter, is torn apart by the teeth of dragons.

Boesha grabs for her sword, but the river's daughter stays her hand.

"I understand that it is your nature, Bo, but please, seek no further strife with them."

She stares dumbstruck at her teacher, enraged. "What are you talking about?!? Do they not deserve my strife??? This world was even shorter than the last! Those gluttonous serpents, why should they get to fill themselves with all your hard work!?!"

With an impassive expression, Tsae looks down at her knight. "It cannot be helped. That is their nature." The black stream laps at her bare feet and in her black robes and the dull darkness that consumes the middle valley, she appears as a tributary of her mother river. "They will not relent, nor will their father. Ka does not know change like we do."

At this point, Boesha recognizes the sereneness in her teacher's dark face that means she knows something she doesn't. "What?!" Boesha demands. "What is it? You're planning something??? Will we finally kill that despicable-"

"Kill? No."

"No!?!?"

Tsae shakes her head. "Look, Bo, and think." She guides her student's eye to the collapsing world. A great ocean atop a river, mountains that barely escape the surface of the brackish blue water, vast kingdoms of coral; each thing a morsel in the yawning maw of Alduin and his brothers. The firstborn drinks up the ocean, devouring the largest share as the eldest eater, while his younger kin pick at this or that, arguing over the scraps like scavengers. Almost everything is destroyed when they eat it; they are voids, not containers, born of their father's will to maintain control over the barren world below. What escapes their mouths breaks off and sinks down to the bottom of the inky-black river, vanishing, but not destroyed.

"They have to destroy it when they eat it. Otherwise, it would change them. They would become it." Tsae explains, setting a hand on Boesha's shoulder. "Why not kill them? Because there are better uses for their power." She smiles. "I have an idea for the next world... a Lantern, one that's fire will consume them."

Boesha looks up at her teacher. "What fire can consume a dragon?"

Tsae's smile grows, her teeth cut a white crescent into her face. "Yours."

---

Another beast slain, another god dead. Tserida-Shak, Student of Boesha, Master of Tsaescence, has led her warriors in another successful hunt. Her party is fifteen Blades and herself, almost so skilled in the Kiai now as to be an overwhelming force to any dragon; more now flee than fight, the rise of these warriors who slice apart their words has rattled their number so.

Nevermore would the menfolk toil beneath the wings of serpents. Now that the fires of the Lantern burn in their eyes and light the path to deliverance, they can walk this road, swords in hand, and slit the throat that would swallow their world.

As always, her disciples watch as their teacher calls out for the defeated dragon's spirit; bright orange-gold flames rise from its corpse, burning flesh and filling the air with a metallic scent. Its soul is hers, but not in whole, some cuts of its immortal flesh still cling to its skeleton. These, they know, are for them.

At the end of every successful hunt, a great feast is held. A bonfire is lit but only for warmth and tributes, for the serpent's steak is best eaten raw with all its vital essences.

Gomak-Resae, demon-helmet doffed, regards his meal, dragon's flesh on a dragonbone plate. An almost inky ichor of blood pools at the bottom of the rough and chewy cut of meat. It's nowhere near as appetizing as beef or venison, but the wealth of mystic powers contained within are the true flavor of this dish.

He looks to his side to see his mentor digging in to her cut, some hock from the thigh; without cutlery, she rips at it with her teeth, the wrought sinews of the serpent stretching and snapping in her jaws. Her brow is set furrowed, flames dance in her eyes while she stares deep into the bonfire, deep, as though it were a doorway.

"Master." Gomak speaks lowly as all her cohort help themselves, some still cutting more from the corpse, throwing offerings onto the flame or burying them within the earth. "I understand that you leave this essence behind when you swallow their spirits... so that we can eat of it ourselves. I thank you for this, and all else you have given us, but I have often wondered... why is it that you eat their flesh as well?"

Tserida-Shak works over the bite still in her mouth before reaching for her waterskin and washing it down. She regards her pupil, eyes still shining as she turns to him. "Because I am hungry."

Gomak-Resae waits for more, then realizes how simple the answer really was. "Oh... my apologies, Master. I was not sure whether devouring a spirit would fill your stomach."

Tserida hums. "It does," she takes another bite and speaks around it, "but not enough. It's not a mortal way."

Gomak-Resae begins to eat as well, tearing strips off with his bare hands then bringing them to his mouth. The juice of dragon's blood is what gives this meat its rich stinging taste, and so he rolls balls out of the skins and dips them in the puddle of ichor collecting at the bottom of his plate. He would be remiss to waste even a drop. "Mortal way?" He asks.

"Of eating." She says, clearing her throat. "Too quick, too clean. Mortals eat slowly. We bite it until our teeth are touching, we tear it apart, we chew it, we savor it." She stares into the flame again. "That's the same way Boesha ate them."

Her student commits this lesson by firelight to memory and takes another bite of the dragon's flesh. It's no wonder the Dov are so terrified by these mere mortals. What can the eater do when their meal turns its teeth on them?

#moriada #mori writing #tsaesci #tesfest23

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reagan-the-saunders · 20 hours

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Venom.

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jiubilant · 1 year

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full tsaesci names are seldom used in anything but census documents but they consist of a [familiar given name, which is usually shorter than the formal given name and usually begins with the same letter] [the word ak, "of," + the name of the family's patron god or spirit] [formal given name]-[matronymic]. some examples of tsaesci characters' full names are

vaie ak ilni versidue-shaie

sa ak zisa sien-chorak

sae ak zisa savirien-chorak

diris ak ilni dinieras-ves

to respectfully address a tsaesci elder, superior, or stranger you'd use both their formal given name and its matronymic ("dinieras-ves"). the respectful address is almost always used in writing. if you're on friendly terms with the person you're addressing it's acceptable to call them by their formal given name only ("dinieras") or even to fondly shorten it ("dini"). it's only appropriate to address a person by their familiar name ("diris") if they are a close family member, intimate friend, or spouse—and even then the use of the familiar name is typically reserved for moments of great passion, affection, or import

#language #tsaesci

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5ampagvita · 9 months

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beast or [arcane] for @tes-summer-fest ! 608 words.

Wrote this way too quickly in a bid to get my prompt done before 12AM lmao. I privately do a lot of speculation on Akaviri (particularly Tsaesci) lore with my bestie, because I’m Asian and by God I will get my rep in my fav silly lil fantasy games one way or another!!

This is a lil scene where my Cyrod-Tsaesci gal Sybil does a spirit summoning so that everyone’s fav fellow Kaidan can learn more about his past. Hope you enjoy!!

When Kaidan first sees it, he’s shaken to the core. The way the water bucks and claws at the air with seemingly nothing bending it, the way Sibyl’s eyes roll backwards against her will, the way otherworldly shouts ripple from the freezing lake and echo across the empty shores–it’s all so foreign, and it gives him the sinking feeling that his companion is playing with forces neither of them understand.

Still, Sibyl had assured him that she’d done this ritual a thousand times, and Kai himself would do anything to learn more about his past. He tentatively kneels beside his entranced friend, watching the paper lotus she’d cast onto the lake’s surface bob and splash against the water’s force.

The first hand, ghostly and golden, rises from the small whirlpool in front of them. It grips the wavering water as if it is ground, and it lends the spirit purchase. Sibyl, once death-still, begins to shake, murmuring words in the old Akaviri tongue, and each syllable beckons her ancestor to push further into the mortal realm, until finally, he is free of the lake’s grip, and stands on the surface of the water with the powerful poise afforded to such tangible history.

Sybil, all tremors, slowly comes down from her trance. When she’s gained her bearings, she rises to her feet, and to Kaidan’s shock, walks on the water to meet her ancestor.

She kneels before him in reverence. They share a few words in a tongue Kaidan doesn’t understand. Listening to their conversation feels like passing by a home someone else now inhabits–you belonged once upon a time, but now it is gone, and your heart aches.

The spirit gestures for Sybil to rise. After a few more words, she returns to land and addresses Kaidan.

“It’s your turn,” she whispers to him, placing a palm on his armored shoulder. He cannot feel the warmth on his skin, but the sensitive way she speaks sends it to his soul.

“But I don’t speak Akaviri,” he croaks.

Sybil gives him a smile full of mirth, but the kindness of it is tinged with pity. “The Waters are beyond such trifles. He will understand you.”

Kaidan sheepishly nods and rises to his feet. He briefly attempts to meet eyes with the ghost, but is faced with only the gaping maw of his helm. He recalls Sybil telling him that, like some Tamrielic cultures, a Tsaesci warrior is expected to be buried in his armor. He didn’t expect the armor to be so formidable.

The younger Akavir takes his first step towards the now-peaceful water, teeth clenched, expecting his boot to sink into the mud. But his foot stays above water, casting a strong ripple across the waves. With each stride, he becomes more sure of his balance on the lake, and finally closes in on the spirit, where he falls into respectful kneel.

Silence echoes across the waters. Kaidan fights the urge to look up to check that the man is still there–he fears seeming doubtful.

After seconds that feel like days, Sybil’s ancestor speaks. His voice is strong, and accented in a way that Kaidan’s never heard before.

“You may rise, young one,” he says. “I am Lieutenant Hailne-Shai.”

Kaidan heeds his words. “I’m Kaidan–ser.” His voice, usually strong and sure under his softness, shakes.

Hailne-Shai’s smile can be heard in his tone. “Sybil told me you have questions.”

The prompt fills Kaidan’s heart with joy. Now, here, he is not restricted to the books of Tamriel and vague extrapolation. His history is right in front of him, glowing, breathing. Welcoming him home.

#tesfest23 #kaidan skyrim #skyrim modding #sampa’s writing #oc: sybil d’hakoshae #kaidan 2 #akavir #akaviri #tsaesci #tes #sampa talks #writing #fic #skyrim fic

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darydark · 9 months

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Akimitz-Shadzan, a chaotic guy from Akavir

He got sucked into a Black book and then appeared in Tamriel. He doesn't remember what happened. Now he walks around in Tamriel and messes with everyone with as much force as he did on Akavir

#Yes he is a tsaesci and I hc them as humanoid looking with different amount of snake features #and yes he is my eso arcanist guy #the elder scrolls #tes oc #akaviri #tsaesci #rdd draws

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kinseviing · 1 year

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More Elder Scrolls characters :D

Elessy Inarium, the Golden Girl, she's a grumpy, sarcastic yet actually caring aldmer, also my first roleplaying character ever alongside Srrikh the tsaesci :) I still love her so much.

This is Srikkh (one of the original draws i have of him and a redraw from like 2-3 years ago)

He probably is officially my first roleplaying character ever! since at the time Elessy was trapped in the body of a white eagle and worked as a sidekick haha. Basically this man is your local huge snake furry himbo, it is what it is.

#the elder scrolls #tsaesci #aldmer #oc #original character #kinseviingart #fanart #if you're wondering if i just doxxed my real name there dont worry #my name is public since i work in the game industry x'D

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hurgablurg · 10 months

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Akavir Ideas

Tsaesci are normally anthropomorphic snake-people, but because Akavir is in the next kalpa (where the standard is evidently that of beastfolk), when they tried to invade westward and entered the current kalpa (within which humanoids are the standard), they were forcibly “reformed” into a human shape - explaining why all the tsaesci seen in Tamriel are humans instead of snakes.

The pain of the transformation is why they never bothered to try another invasion.

The Kamal, on the other hand, are masochistic and figured second, third, fourth, etc. time’s the charm, but eventually found they could bypass the change by going through Atmora, which is currently “north” of the kalpic cycle (that is to say, it is one of the 11 worldskins before Yokuda, and is therefore a part of the wheel not “touching the ground”, unlike the Named 3 which are) altogether. It’s the difference between the Ice Tribes and our guy Karstaag.

Uriel V’s invasion fleet met the same change, but the history books won’t say jack or shit about it because none of the survivors wanted to admit they were forcibly assigned minotaur fursonas.

The lamia beastfolk are unrelated to the tsaesci despite appearances - sometimes nature just be like that.

The tsaesci have special warrior-guilds of dragon hunters led by a figuratively-leashed dovahkiin, who embark on missions into Ka Po’ Tun to slay any newly-ascended dragons, slaughter their families and temples, raze their hometowns, and consume their newly immortal souls.

The tigers’ obvious desire to prevent this leads to a tense cold-war of assassinations and plots where the tigers try to kill the dragonborns before they master their thu’um and the snakes try to keep them hidden as they are trained.

This kerfuffle includes elite dragon-hunter-hunters, (an) order(s) of cloaked “ninja” tigers who are sworn to protect all life but are also sworn to exempt by such kill/assassinate/hamper the tsaesci dragon-slayers and dragonborns and no other opponent - irrationally specialized in this task, they are mythologized as fighting death and “the Void”, in defence of life and immortality.

The Tang Mo are the largest and most wide-spread of the Akaviri civilizations, and consider the entirety of the continent of Akavir as the Thousand Monkey Isles, with the other nations living within their borders as funny little enclaves that sometimes throw violent tantrums. While the snakes and tigers and snow demons and their tributaries dispute this notion, none have been able to actually prove otherwise by gaining control over them.

Despite this, or perhaps it is because, the Tang Mo are carefree and nigh-utopian, enjoying the abundant fruits of their minimal labour while strengthening their community bonds and regional identities. In their leisure however, they neglect vigilance: their armies quickly disbanding out of disinterest as quickly as they are raised in response to threats - this serial unpreparedness serves to make their sudden resistances against their would-be-conquerors appear all the more heroic in their biased but extensive records. This annoys their more conventional neighbours.

The Ka Po’ Tun’s veneration of dragons is eerily similar to the relationship between the khajiit and dovah of Tamriel, but no one knows what its about. Nor are the ka po’ tun aware that there is another race of cat-people with their own dragons just over yonder.

The tigers ascend into dragons at an inconsistent rate despite the large numbers attempting it, generally between 3 and 6 ascendants in a 5 year span, which is hampered by tsaesci dragon-hunters who are quick to act on any rumours of ascendancy.

While the dragons of Tamriel typically present as masculine, the dragons of Akavir typically present as feminine. This includes their spiritual liege, ““king”” Tosh Raka, who is trans. Good for her!

The tigers have 13 styles of sacred martial arts, themed after 13 of their animal constellations (dragon, fox, hare, artei, durzog, rat, nix-bird, gull, stripedbear, dolfax, heron, huxhi, and wad’lin). Four of these styles are centred around casting spells which isn’t strictly martial, but is cool.

Ka po’ tun are immune to the effects of most poisons and toxins, but are lethally vulnerable to the simmering juices found within kagouti livers. This is information no one will ever likely learn, as kagouti are not indigenous to Akavir.

The Kamal are ice-freaks who like to invade and loot places that aren’t theirs, which has drawn not-inaccurate comparisons to the nords and atmoran colonizers.

The kamal, in searching for safer routes to pillage, colonized the now otherwise-uninhabitable Atmora and the Sea of Ghosts, and over the centuries the isolated oceanic populations evolved (or were perhaps being transformed) into the Sea Giants.

They hibernate in large chunks of ice as a shield against the even colder temperatures of impossible para-winters, and to release themselves with the coming of summer, they vibrate quickly and subtly to produce body heat to melt the ice around them, like bees killing a hornet.

Kamal have five eyes but traditionally keep the central eye covered so that it can “focus on seeing the future in which they win”.

They are big!

The rumoured dog-men and rat-men and akaviri humans do exist and are not extinct, but were culturally subsumed by the tsaesci and serve as second-class citizens, levies, labourers, and blood-banks for the snakes.

What remains of their original cultures can be found in songs with long-forgotten melodies, stories, and parables desperately inscribed on the walls of old temples and forgotten dungeons that they had fortified in their last days of resistance.

Their blood doesn’t even taste very good, but the tsaesci governments have really good propaganda about it being supernaturally healthy and spiritually-wholesome, like the USA and carrots.

Akavir itself is shaped kind of like a bowl, with a unnervingly below-sea-level interior. Pray that the Sea does not meet the Soil.

#tes #the elder scrolls #akavir #tsaesci #tang mo #ka po tun #kamal

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lichposting · 2 years

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🐄 !!

#found in google image results for fithragaer #asked #tsaesci

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scalecallerpeak · 6 months

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Sylin-Dras

So recently I got COVID (again) and during the time I was off sick I made yet another entire Tsaesci. Sylin-Dras is the potantate of Ionith, with Ionith being a port city in centreral Tsaesci making him the welithiest. The secret is that Sylin-Dras is also a vampire. It's a common misconseption that Tsaesci are vampires. But no Sylin-Dras actually is a vampire.

#Sylin-Dras #Tsaesci #The Elder Scrolls #Skyrim #TES #Akavir #Fysh Draws

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swordcoasts · 1 year

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hi, hello! i missed u!

hiiiii thank you so much, missed u too!! <3

#asks #tsaesci

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morihaus · 9 months

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Sword

Ascae-Ket lives in dark times for the Tsaesci. Their ancient enemy returned, stricken with a terrible madness; with their roaring language they blew the empire to pieces, scattering the warriors who had pledged their oath to forever defy them. The spirits of the land were quieted, and now, as in times long past, they whispered under the booming decrees of the dragon's eminence in this land.

The Blades, the disciples of Tsaescence and soldiers of the Empress, could not withstand the fury of the dragons' return nor the chaos of their new dawning. This was the end of their order, the end of the Empire, and for so many men of Akavir, the end of the world.

No village is spared the horror of this new era; if not plagued by a dragon, then by brigands and bandits, opportunists who terrorize the weak in the absence of their protectors. With no militia to guard them, a new generation is entrusted with the path of the sword.

Ascae is of that number, drawn into this world from a line of warriors, though only her infirm grandmother could claim to have carried the ancestral sword into battle. In a humble village such as hers, she almost acted as her own tutor, the warriors of old too few and too brittle to offer hands-on instruction. But what is harder than learning how to hold a sword or how to use it, is that one thing that allowed her ancestors to rise up against evil: Tsaescence, the spirit's way.

Without Tsaescence, which is to hear the voices of the world, there is no Kiai, which is the call to rally them. At that point, she's nothing more than an gnat to her enemies.

She has tried, strained to hear their voices for so long, but beneath the roaring of the open skies, there is nothing. And now she can expect the roving Vreshu marauders to rob her village of what little they have, and she must go into battle with nothing but her family's armor and blade.

Knelt before her family's shrine at the riverbank, she tightens her grip on the hilt. "Please... guide my hand..." She whispers out to the rushing waters, and again, and a third time to be certain her words reach the afterlife.

All she hears around her is the movement of water, the distant cries of animals, the buzz of insects, birds, and other creatures of the forest who continue on even in this dire hour. She hears her own breathing, slow and purposeful, as she prepares herself for battle.

"...Cut, cut, cut... cut them..."

The rhythm of the forest and the weight of the task ahead cloud her mind so that she hardly even registers the voice at first.

"Hey! Ease yourself! You flow like Zisa."

And suddenly she snaps to attention, jolting as the words pound into her ears. She quickly turns around, raising her sword into a two-handed stance as she jumps to her feet, but there's no one there.

"CUT, yes, cut! There's no one to cut. Good form, though, very good form."

Ascae cranes her head around to search for the source as it prattles on, but then finds her eye drawn to her sword, ancient yet expertly honed. Its steel is smooth as the river flowing behind her, its hilt the mouth and its tip the point of a tongue.

"...Scalechewer???"

"Yes, yes! You hear me! No. No! Not that name! The great confusion has scrambled it. It is Destroyer of Scales. That is what Sheivak-Ket named me, and it is ever my honor to fulfill this title!"

Ascae stood there, dumbstruck. "You're speaking to me??"

"You're speaking to me! Yes! We are communicating. You've done well in your training." The blade's voice is sharp and quick, every sentence is a single swipe with a sudden stop.

Ascae knows all about spirits, those of the natural world. There are the great four who preside over the elements, and then there are countless lesser spirits in their retinues who constitute the whole of creation. From the greatest mountains and rivers, to the smallest stones or flowers, all is imbued with a spirit whose language can change the world. Despite this, she never expected to hear anything out of her sword.

"You're a spirit... and I can hear you?"

"Yes! I've said this. And you heard it! Didn't you?*"

"Yes, but... I didn't know swords had spirits."

"Fool girl! What happens to the irons in a furnace? Does the flame devour it, spirit and all? No! Impurities of stone melt away and it is reborn! Spirits are never destroyed, they only lose arguments! And years ago, I lost an argument with a flame. Now here am I, a sword- your sword- shaped for a new purpose, a beautiful purpose!"

She eyes the weapon as it- or, its spirit- speaks to her. It doesn't move or shine when words spill out of it, it only sits in her hand as she stares at it. It's... different than how she pictured it. The way it sounds, the way it speaks. It's so much closer to a person than she would have thought. It's like she's holding an uncle.

"Well, Destroyer of Scales... are you... can you help me defend my village?" She asks, now feeling a little rude that she'd been about to involve him in this trouble without consent.

"What do you think a sword is for? Cutting! Slashing! Stabbing! I've been around. I know these things can defend your village. So my answer is yes, girl!"

"I know how to do all of that myself." Ascae says. "What I want to know is, can you help me use kiai?"

"Kiai?! You can't use it? You're talking to me, aren't you??"

"No?" She replies, wondering how he doesn't know if he’s been here the whole time. "You are... the only one I've been able to talk to."

"Hm. It's no wonder. Everyone else around here is a coward."

"Can you hear them?"

"Yes! Of course. They're just mumbling to each other, that's all. You'd hear them if they spoke up!" It strikes Ascae that Scalechewer has been shouting ever since she first heard him whispering.

"Can you get them to speak up?"

"Can you swing me at them? Slash! Cut! Slice! That's how I do most of my talking!"

Ascae turns and looks up at the sky, noting the passage of the sun overhead. "We don't have time for that... the Vreshu will be there soon." She sheathes Scalechewer and hurries down the path to the village, her scaled armor rattling as she jogs.

"Bah! No point, you can still use Kiai without hearing them." Scalechewer's voice is not muffled, even sheathed.

"What?! How?" She spits out, not stopping or slowing down.

"You have an intercessor! Shout out your spirit, I'll make it heard."

"You- by cutting things, you mean??"

"CUT, cut, cut! Well, yes. Ease yourself. You will not fall."

Ascae hurries out into the main road of the village, less than reassured despite what Scalechewer tells her. Jabbering sword or not, she has a lot to do; not only will her foes outnumber her, they'll be on horseback. It may be foolish to stand as one with a horde of horsemen bearing down on her, but she's the only one in the village with this equipment. It's her duty, even if it is fated to be her death.

"What you need to do," Scalechewer says, "is slash the legs of the creature. Send them to the earth! With haste!"

Ascae raises the blade, assuming her stance. "I know." She mutters through grit teeth.

Then comes the sound of hooves pounding on the road, and through the overgrown path she could now see the troop. Only five of them. Odd. The Vreshu horsemen are known for their great numbers when attacking, they overtake a village as a rising tide on a beachhead. When they take notice of her, not one reaches for a weapon, yet they still charge headlong towards her.

"SLASH!!!"

The cry rings out in time with the action, a horse squeals out in pain as Scalechewer carves into its side, and its rider is thrown from its back in the subsequent bucking and stumbling. The raider hits the dirt, cursing and reaching for their blade. They find the point of Tsaesci steel in their face instead, and they scowl. "Damned girl!!! I don't have time for this!" They look down the road to see their comrades continue, unabated by their loss. They move to stand, but Ascae jabs Scalechewer against their chest plate with just the right amount of force to make them freeze.

"What is this attack?! Why have you come here?!" Ascae demands an answer of them, having stolen the same glance at the other horsemen as they made their escape.

"This has nothing to do with you, Tsaesci!!" They cuss and crawl backward, scrambling to their feet once there's enough space between them. "Curses take you, I don't want to die with you!!" They cry out.

Ascae's grip tightens around the hilt. "You were running from something..." Her heart sinks. A dragon???

"Not a dragon." Scalechewer speaks up, though only Ascae hears him. "A horse is too slow. Slow! Nothing can match a serpent's speed!"

"But if it's not a dragon..." She mutters, turning the direction the Vreshu rode in from.

SLICE!!!

The overgrowth surrounding the road falls to the ground as a single figure approaches with a two-handed grip on his sword.

His armor, his sword, they're just like Ascae's. But every scale is painted pitch black.

"No, no, no..." The Vreshu turns and runs after their companions, abandoning their wounded steed. "REAP ZEN’S REWARD!! STUPID GIRL!! DIE WITH THIS VILLAGE-"

Suddenly, a whirlwind blows through the village, spooking a cry out of the injured horse and sending a chill down Ascae's spine.

Behind her, she can hear the choked gasps of the horseman.

"A Blade! A Blade!!! CUT, slice, kill!" Scalechewer cries, and Ascae is almost so afraid that she wants to clamp his mouth shut.

She looks over her shoulder, eyes peering through the holes in her helmet. This Blade is taller than any average man, he holds his head high above the horseman impaled on his katana. Closer now, she can see that his armor is far more decorative, with flaring plates, high horns, and a serpentine mask obscuring his face. With a dismissive swipe, he unsticks his blade, a spurt of blood falling out of the Vreshu as his body falls limp. Then, he turns to look down at Ascae.

He is no ordinary Blade, that order has fallen apart in the return. As those before him served the Empress, he serves the foul serpent who unseated her, the Black Dragon. An impeachable warlord in this land, assigned with weeding out the last dissenters towards dragonkind, in addition to ruling over the populace as he sees fit.

Ascae's heart is in her throat. He must know Kiai, how else could he traverse that great distance? This one swordsman posed a greater threat than any horde of marauders. Still, she stands as one with her blade.

"You have my gratitude for slowing down that quarry of mine." His voice rumbles behind his face-plate. "Only four left of that clan now. But I see here... that you pretend yourself a Blade."

"I am Ascae-Ket!!" She shouts forcefully. "Descended from Sheivak-Ket of the Akaviire-"

"I don't give a damn who your ancestor was." He spits, the eyes of that grimacing metal face patronizing. "You are just a child trying to change what you cannot control. It's more than holding a sword that makes a Blade."

"Villain! Betrayer!! Bite your tongue, she will DESTROY you!!!" Scalechewer shouts, but the Dragon's warrior does not heed him.

The pounding of her heart rings in her ears, her entire body is tense and awaiting the first blow even as they speak. "Leave this place... there's no reason for you to remain here!"

Tilting his chin up to look further down at her, he scoffs. "You have no right to command me, knave. I live as I please."

"As the SERPENT pleases!! Spineless wretch!" Ascae's sword jeers him further and Ascae twitches, expecting his fierce reproach. Yet, nothing comes.

"The way you're holding that sword... it almost looks like you want a fight." He raises his sword arm, resting his blade atop his shoulder in a casual posture, creating many openings that even an inexperienced swordsman like Ascae can see. "Is that right? You want to duel me?"

"Foolhardy! Pierce his lungs! Thrust!"

An opening she can see is not an opening that's sure to bring her victory, she knows that much. This Blade could be centuries old for all she knows. To him, she is truly a gnat.

"Trust in yourself!! Attack! You can defeat him!!"

"How." She whispers tersely, shifting her fingers around on the hilt and visualizing the trajectory of the swing even now, when it seems this attack will be her last gasp.

"He is a fool! Swing at his blade-side! Clash, clash! Steel on steel! You'll feel it!"

In this moment, she does not have many other options. Scalechewer, she thinks, certainly has more experience than she does in true combat. Digging her heels into the ground, she darts her hands to one side for a swipe under the Blade's right-arm.

Predictably, he brings his steel crashing down against Scalechewer, and for the first time in Ascae's life she hears the grinding of interlocked blades.

For its part, Scalechewer meets their opponent's sword, an equally ancient but much larger weapon by the title of Divining Blood. They exchange choice words, and while Divining Blood makes a compelling argument in favor of Scalechewer shattering in twain from the power of the Black Dragon Blade, he nevertheless holds his ground. "Your master is a CUR! Waste of language! He is NO true Blade- he COMMANDS, as DRAGONS do, but he does not LISTEN, CAN not HEAR me! He WILL fall!!!"

The results are a stalemate, neither sword overcoming the other, which for Ascae is quite the favorable outcome considering her lesser stature and experience. The two swordsmen break off from their clash, and this time it's the Blade who brings his sword down to cleave her left arm from its shoulder, but Ascae raises Scalechewer and adds a grip onto his blade to reinforce it, grunting with strain.

"Kiai! Kiai! Let it flow from your lips!!!"

And Ascae yells her spirit out, and the spirits argue.

"Hear her Fire!"

"There IS no fire!"

"There is! The Mortal Fire, her spirit!"

"He will snuff it out!!"

The Blade relents in his downward swing and raises his sword again. Scalechewer almost seems to vibrate as he cries alarm.

"OFF the road!!! Move!!"

Ascae doesn't need to be told what to do, she knows she can't stand up to this next attack. She hurls herself to one side as another whirlwind cuts through the village; this time, it really cuts, a clean line is sliced into the dirt beneath them from the force of his voice.

She's already running before Scalechewer speaks. "Keep going! But heed! That is NOT Kiai!"

"What is it?!" She hisses as she darts behind one of the empty houses on the outskirts.

"A command. Think of Dragons and how they bend the spirits- he will not prosper, because you will rally them!"

"And how will-" Suddenly, an explosion blows her back. The dwelling she placed between them bursts into flame and falls apart, bisected by another swing of Divining Blood. The Black Dragon Blade strides through a path between the flames; towering over her, surrounded by smoldering ruins in that serpentine mask, he seems more like a dragon than a man.

But Scalechewer hears more than an explosion, he hears faint whisperings, discontent. "Ascae." He says. "Throw me! As high as you can!" In the midst of this terror, her dumbfounded lack of response serves as one. "I'll rally them for you! Just throw me, and be ready!"

Crawling backwards from the slowly approaching warrior, Ascae back to her feet. If she raises Scalechewer to this Blade again, she'll just be a plaything, like a tiger and its prey. If she tries to escape, he'll burn the whole village to the ground to pursue her. The spirit in her sword is suggesting something completely absurd. But then, there's much she still has to learn about spirits.

With a hearty cry, she hurls her sword skyward, sending it flying with impressive force.

Once surrounded by the spirits of the air, Scalechewer speaks to them through the rising rambling smoke. "Winds! You have been ever pleasant today! Cast from Ilni's fan, beautiful, graceful! But I see, this smoke is causing you trouble. That man down there expects you to carry it for him, how grating! No doubt he'll fill all these skies with smoke, too, and the scent of death. Not to mention swords. Yes, it's his fault I'm in your way, and one of you has to take me back down. It's all inconvenient for you. Would you like to hear a humble strip of steel's suggestion? Cast me down right on his head! Blow me into his face! It would only be right- Karmic! It would make Zen very happy, and I'm sure you would be happy too, for me not being here any longer, and no more pollutants interrupting your dance! I would like to enjoy it too! From the ground. So kindly, guide me to his face? We'll see to him and his fires, no more smoke, no more interruptions, you ladies continue your dancing! Agreed?" And there's a great commotion in the sky as the myriad winds and breezes conferred and the smoke gibbered in circles and smothered them. So came their consensus: they would like for whoever put this awful smog in the air to suffer, and they would like this loud, obnoxious sword to be back on the earth where it belongs. So the weapon felt the dainty hands of dancing winds rush him back downwards.

Meanwhile, the Black Dragon Blade towers over Ascae, laughing at her strange actions. "Is that how you surrender? How disrespectful to your tools. But if you truly wish to beg for your life now..."

Before he can continue, something miraculous happens. Ascae sees it before him. Her family's ancestral blade, which has been with them since the Imperial past, carried into battle by great dragonslayers and servants of the Empress, now plummets in an arc so perfectly directed as to swing its edge along the right side of the swordsman's face-plate.

Drops of blood fall to join Scalechewer on the ground, the Blade flinches back and lets out an unexpected cry of pain, raising his left hand to cover his wound while clenching his right around the hilt of his sword.

Ascae can hardly believe what she just saw.

"Quick! Now! Take advantage!! I can't fly over to you as well!"

Ascae blinks, her eyes dart to the bloody sword on the ground and before she knows it her feet are already carrying her there at great speed. There's not a chance this slows the Blade down for long.

Sword back in hand, she quickly darts towards him and swings in a wild arc, screaming out her spirit. It's just barely that he's able to move his own weapon to stop hers, and she can see as he turns his head that his right eye is horribly damaged, blood spilling out from the damaged side of his mask.

Now, this warrior has a blind spot.

"While he roils with pain! Tear him apart! Slice him to pieces! Fight as an insect! One thousand stings on an elephant!!!"

Ascae feels something overtake her. She circles around and slashes at his back before he can turn and defend himself, she parries his sloppy half-blind swing and makes sparks fly as she swipes her blade's edge against his pauldron. Her spirit is burning with a hereto unknown fire.

The Blade grows tired of her struggle and looks to end their duel with another explosive attack, but when he raises his weapon, the words die in his throat, drowned out by the shrill cry of the younger warrior. The spirits take no heed. His sword calls forth no fire, divides no spirit, and so the imprecise attack fails to injure her. Instead, it's Ascae who drives her sword in for a killing blow.

As her family's sword meets the Blade's painted armor, Scalechewer's voice joins her own. "SHATTER!!! Ket named me DESTROYER OF SCALES!!! My name is DESERVED! HEAR her, spirits, and see that my master fights for you!! Disown the tyrant! His blood to the earth!! My steel to his flesh!!! PIERCE!!! SHATTER!!!!"

The armor crumbles before their voice, the scales part, the sword sinks into her opponent.

The Black Dragon Blade is stunned in his final moments. The spirits of the land he ruled in fear were turned against him. The Blade Ascae-Ket has tasted Tsaescence.

#moriada #mori writing #akavir #tsaesci #tesfest23

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