[Morde]

“My name is Bhavika,” the Andusian woman stated with a tone both soft and confident. It took several moments and blinks of her serpentine eyes to draw her mind from the lucid state it was in. Sylise’s mind felt in two parts vying for control: one seeking to bring her to the present, the other determined to surrender to blackness. In a sensation that felt unnerving and electrically jolting, the blurry background of her surroundings came rapidly into focus. There she saw a middle-aged woman: frail looking arms with broad hands and slender fingers, bearing a diminutive stature.

Sylise’s throat felt dry again and her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth as she attempted to swallow, “I… My name is-” but was quickly cut off by the woman’s hushed voice and gently raised hand.

“I know. You have been missing for weeks.”

Shame that had welled within her gut began to boil over steadily and Sylise tilted her head down with a heavy sigh. The truth behind those series of events that ultimately forced the naga to seek an end to her own life remained hidden from all. “You should have left me, jadira… It was my intent to be taken by the sands.”

Bhavika poured a glass of water and retrieved a small vial of dark liquid from a shelf lined with baubles, jars, flasks, and other medical accouterments, setting both upon the tray. As she offered the items to the naga, an instance of compassion soften her features, “It would go against my oaths to leave anyone to perish... But you were found quite a ways from the sands, Your Highness.”

A feeling of sharp, hot pain clenched Sylise’s stomach, “Please… call me Sylise. I am no longer Herald.” Reality was hitting her like a lead brick now that she was recovering and on the mend, an unfortunate fact when one wanted nothing more than to… not exist. Her scales felt itchy, her eyes burned and despite having sipped at the water, the fire in her mouth didn’t subside. “How long…. Have I been… I’m sorry, where am I?”

Bhavika sat on the cushions before her, hiking her physician’s robe enough to settle in crossed leg. “You’ve been in Meissa just under week… The kingdom still needs its leader and you still are, for all accounts.” The woman’s voice was factual with an undercurrent of gentleness that seemed to have been cultivated over many years. Still, she didn’t reveal the full scale of the situation playing out in Al’Shadiya. Without an air of urgency, Bhavika sat letting silence fill in when necessary while Sylise gathered strength enough to speak, sipping from a cup of gahwa. A few minutes more passed before the naga drew in a resigned breath.

“This world… knows little peace or progress. Those that share my convictions, my perceptions, my ideals… Are un-welcomed. Because of the tenets of my faith, I am certain that within all resides greater things… for the greater good. Yet, the All-Mother opened the way to deliver me here and I have failed to do..whatever it is I am meant.”

Sylise sipped the water, then ran her serpentine tongue over parched lips. “I thought I knew… I was given a second chance – a blessing from Her.” The cup in her hand lowered as she leaned forward a bit, a sadness quivering in her brow, “And I was not the only one to have survived the massacre in my home world.”

The brow of the woman raised, quietly surprised by the information, “There is another…?”

“His name is Szar’thas. Our people are – WERE spread out all over the landmasses. Though we were not known to each other before here, we were still kin under the same All-Mother. Imagine it – to be saved from ultimate genocide and to not be the last of your kind.”

Exhaustion and fear had steadily crept like lichen up her body, starting from the barbed tip of her tail and already into her abdomen. Was she speaking too much – was her belief to be truthful and transparent serving her wrong?

Sensing the rising unease within her charge, Bhavika uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, taking the naga’s hands into her own. “You have been under a great amount distress. It is clear that you have wandered far and for long – but.. forgive me, Sylise… I ask not because I am judging you.. I ask only out of concern.. Why did you leave Shadahan?”

The yellow gaze of the naga fell to the vibrantly colored carpet beneath them. In her mind, Sylise fought two sides of the debate: to reveal the full truth or to avoid the question entirely. The latter she knew was unacceptable, even in her weakened state, but oh… how enticing it was. Images flashed in her mind of how glorious at that moment would everything be if she had been left to perish at the hands of nature. But in that same instance, she saw despair and sadness of those that would have cared….

Her gaze lifted to Bhavika and with the first instance of full clarity, Sylise replied, “I cannot reveal just yet, but I know someone to whom I can tell all to. She is someone whom I trust fully.”

[Morde]

A simple letter had been penned by the hand that healed her – the one that had found her and guided her back to Meissa – and sent immediately to the Guardian of Raeyithia. Over the span of a few days, the two learned a little more of one another and built a bridge of trust. Though Sylise kept her privacy on what was troubling her the most, Bhavika did not rescind her offer of help. However, adhering to the oaths she’d taken as a physician, she drew up a plan of rehabilitation for the nagini surrounding the very foundation of nutrition. Sylise was thin and dehydrated, the latter causing a dullness in her scales, and her former strength had waned considerably. Travel was to be impossible for a while and the former zeal she once had was nothing more than a dim flicker in the void.

It took weeks before Sylise and Lilitu met and in that time, she had made steady progress in recovery. The reunion was instantly jubilant and the sisterly love that had been forgotten in the darkest of moments filled the room with its familiarity. When the din of excitement faded, it was Lilitu who turned serious and pointedly asked what others had before with no revealing answers or had wanted to ask but didn’t.

“Why did you leave?” Lilitu’s face was hurt and worried, for the act of abandoning the throne was more than just what it seemed… It was also a clear message of abandoning the people and the principles they shared.

A surge of hot blood filled Sylise’s cheeks, giving her greenish scales a dusky color. The question was not getting any easier and because it was coming from Lilitu, the shame felt like an insurmountable burden. Lilitu was the only one she felt she could trust and was the reason for the letter. Sylise didn’t know what she sought… forgiveness? Vindication? It was more than that… she was hoping for help. But what that looked like, what what would entail, she couldn’t fathom.

“I know… It was sudden and it’s an act I am ashamed of. I had reason.. have.. a reason but it’s not easy to speak. Even now I worry. What I tell you, please, for now.. keep between us. I have told the Vizier only part of this. Just enough that it is truthful. For what I am about to say, only you will know.”

The Guardian had sat across the large stone table, the concern growing deeper in her delicate, otherworldly features. “Of course, Sylise… I have been worried about you.”

The naga took a deep, cleansing breath, then exhaled slowly. A slight tremor shook her hand, a direct manifestation of her shame. “Shortly after I took the throne, I began to change laws of Andus. Those traditions that seemed barbaric to me and a sin in my people’s eyes. I was in the midst of writing the heaviest ones when I discovered something remarkable.”

For a moment, her yellow eyes brightened in the candlelit room. 

She hesitated and straightened a moment, then resumed, “Once in a great, long while, my Goddess, Lyssia, bestows a precious gift upon a chosen daughter. It’s not a greatly common act nor is it one that we dwell upon or dismiss either, but it is a true celebration.” Another brief pause, the words hitching in her throat in a bittersweet taste, “I learned then I was pregnant.”

Lilitu’s face was a mix of joy and concern and immediately she closed the gap between them and sat next to the giant naga. Instinctively, she reached her hands to Sylise’s and the simple gesture of genuine care and concern by another nearly broke Sylise’s resolve. “I’m the last that I know of and to have been gifted this… Was a joyful surprise. There had been some difficulty in preparing a space for my clutch to be nested but there was a subterranean room upon the estate and there I prepared for their birth.”

The two women clutched hands tightly, with Lilitu’s voice soft and comforting. The brief moment of recollection of joy melded into anguish nearly instantly.

“I was weakened after the birth.. exhaustion and stress combined left me feeling less like myself and I retreated physically so I could recover. During this time, I hired a caretaker to oversee me and my soon to be babies.” The candlelight flickered in the room above the palace, and silence settled for a few moments while Sylise swallowed hard to steel herself. Words of gentle encouragement came from the normally spirited Queen of Raeyithia. Finally, the silence was broken.

“There was a night in which I gave my caretaker early leave as I was feeling much better. I had just retreated from the room to fetch myself a meal and temporary respite. I eventually fell asleep. Sounds of shouting and clamor woke me suddenly – it was well into the night by then – and when I rushed out to meet the commotion, guards were chasing off black clad figures from the palace grounds. I-”

Head bowed, she cradled it in a hand, “Intuition told me to check the clutch, but it was too late. The destruction was brutal.. every egg was purposely smashed.” Sylise choked a sob, “I… died that day. Every fiber of my being was obliterated in that moment.” As her eyes closed, tears began to flow rapidly down her cheeks and dripped from her pointed chin. Lilitu gasped, covering her mouth. 

“How could I leave the kingdom and the people… How could I stay when my children were murdered? My intent was to die in the desert and be rid of the foulness that invades the hearts of the wicked here. But here I am… facing the music of my actions.”

Lilitu embraced her tightly, comforting her in the massive loss of her children and the crime that went quiet. “Promise me, Lilitu, do not breathe a word of this yet.” As they pulled back from one another, the Guardian echoed her word to keep silent.

[Morde]

In the midst of conflict, turmoil, and pain, life around us continues. The world is a giant stage containing thousands upon thousands of smaller worlds, each one weaving an intricate tapestry that seems to have no rhyme and no reason. Close up, it’s hard to see and when viewed broadly, the picture becomes clear. However, to get there is no easy feat – no matter how enlightened one believes they are.

The weeks that followed Sylise’s quiet homecoming were a mix of confusion and self-doubt. She adopted the mask of her former self – the joyous, passionate, and optimistic version - wearing it on display for those that required it and for those she wished to keep at bay. Grief ran as deep as the rivers of her jungle home and her outlook as grim as the dark caverns of Underhill.

For a short while, it seemed the mask was working and staving off the more sinister facts of her situation. She told only pertinent information to those that requested, revealed only base truths to those that needed it, and dealt with the guilt that weighed on her mind as to whether withholding the finer details was indeed lying. What mattered most at the moment, she reminded herself, was her well-being.

She attended the sprouting of Princess Leilana – a beautiful ritual that enticed the young dryad into the world. The child’s face and eyes bright with the sensation of a whole new world lifted Sylise’s spirits for a little while. She delighted in Leilana’s fascination of her scales and massive tail and felt her heart filled with joy… but also pain. It had been a fleeting thought for just a moment, one that intruded where it was not invited. Thankfully, the cheers and laughter from those gathered brought her senses to the present.

In Al’Shadiya, she tried to return to normalcy. She purchased a home with intent to fill it with such things to feel comfortable. An altar to Lyssia was the only thing she prepared herself – the rest, she paid to have filled. It didn’t quite feel like home to her, but it gave her a place to sleep. She returned to the loom and weaved fine fabrics, but it did little to fill the void. Her muse of song and dance had fallen silent and nightmares began to plague her – both in her dreams and in her waking moments.

As with all things held together by a weak foundation, the mask she outwardly wore crumbled under the weight of truth.

In the night, she saw shadows around the corners, flitting up the stairs, and wavering at the windows. By day, the eyes of the citizens, namely humans, began to pierce her armor. Always had they viewed her as a monster and always she pretended it didn’t bother her.. but now… it did. Were they the ones…? Sleeping brought the worst of the nightmares, a grotesque version of the true events, though sometimes she was watching the men gleefully bludgeon her clutch and other times she devoured them while like the white rage of vengeance.

She stopped eating. Her mind wandered and clouded with the void of sorrow and her duties to the crown…

Shame kept her silent. Distrust made her suspicious. She needed closure… and to see justice through.

[open call for interested players]