A Leap of Faith: the Kami Army and the Nexus

[ackir]

Rumors! Deep down you know rumors are mostly tall tales cooked up for enjoyment and personal satisfaction, but strangely, you can't get enough of them either. Even in the most desolate regions of the Witherings, the loneliest colony of homins, you can find rumors that spread faster than the Goo. That is how this tale is inspired, a rumor. Not long ago I heard a rumor of an account of the battle in the Nexus, but it dismayed me. The tale told of the Karavan victory and the defeat of the Kitin hordes, rest assured that the slaughtering of the ruthless Kitin is not what dismayed me so. Evil hintings and underlying resentment for the Kami is the thing. Did not the Kami also fight valiantly? Did not the blood of both the Fyros and Zorai warriors ooze forth from the many gashes and slices to join that of the Matis and Tryker on the battlefield? Do not the legions of the Kami deserve praise in the slaying of many foul beasts?

Here follows my story from the Battle of the Nexus in rememberance of the honorable, yet fruitless, efforts of the Kami Army:

The call of the Kami was heard loud and clear in the jungles of the Witherings. It was everywhere yet nowhere, as if the jungle itself were spreading the message. Something was amis in the Nexus, a far-off land shrouded in mystery and subject of many rumors, and all were to report to the Kami in Zora who would provide transport to the staging ground. I never liked teleporting, and this time was no different. Queasy and disoriented, the Nexus materialized before me. After I got my balance I joined the masses teaming on a hill that had become the Kami base camp. Slowly, I took in my surroundings.

A thin layer of frosted snow still clung to the ground despite the nearings of spring, and there was no sign of prominent foliage like that of the lush jungles. The trees though... I don't think I shall ever forget them. Proud and tall they towered over the cold, hard land, very grim, very dull, but timeless. Even with the evidence of the grace of Jena, I could sense more than see that something else was at work here. A deadly silence filled me, and even the warm, enveloping mist of the jungles seemed a distant memory. I stood there, gulping in the silence and uneasy serenity of the land, but reality yanked me out of my reverie.

I focused back on the task at hand. The Kami. The object. The Kitin. I looked around and realized that while I had drifted off, more homins had arrived. Mighty warriors with their thick armor and deadly arms, mages with grim expressions and restless healers all eagerly waiting for something. I was lucky to join a group of stout homins, who while not the strongest or most experienced of combatants made up for it with their thirst for battle and glory. Initially, there was discord among the ranks, but the overwhelming will of the masses eventually lead us out of the Kami base camp and into the wilds. I did not know where our target was, or even if we were at least headed in the right direction. The moment was overwhelming, we had ceased to be individuals, Zorai or Fyros, warriors or magicians. We had become an army. No, more than that... the Kami Army, all fighting for one cause against one foe.

Disorganized and leaderless as we were, we pressed on in what we guessed was the general direction of our target. Then we saw them, the Kitin, looming just out of sight under the shadows of the forest. We pressed on. The patrols that I had learned to fear on my travels were cut down with a kind of chaotic precision that I had not seen before. Even my healing became automatic and exacting, almost possesed by some will that guided us. I will not willingly tell more of the horrific chaos that followed us into battle with the Kitin warriors but to recall the stench of the dead. When a Kitin fell, out of the deep wounds made by us, rose a smell so horrific that even remaining upright was a chore like fighting for ten days on end. It was as if all the hatred and malice the Kitin felt toward hominkind had filled them and was now, at death, escaping to assail us one last time, choking us.

Three times we crashed upon the mass of Kitin that had gathered to protect their treasure. Hacking, casting, slashing, shooting, slicing, smashing. Despite the messages that informed us of an impending Karavan victory, we pressed on. We were like the tide of the sea that crashes upon the cliff, while strong and violent we failed everytime. Our cohesion and purpose that had gathered us here was leaderless and slowly devolved into a mob mentallity that worked toward the inevitable failure of our mission. With the announcement of Karavan victory we returned to the Kami, ashamed that we could not repay their kindness, caring and generosity with a simple favor. Thinking back, I realize that though we lost the spirit of the Kami Army that we had become, our determination alone was deserving of honor. Even without hope of victory, many a Kitin lie on the forest floor of the Nexus, and that is worthy of praise any day, as far as I am concerned.

Keep hope, homins! Even now, rumors (always rumors...) are brewing of the Kitins preparing revenge. Against such forces, Karavan and Kami alike must put aside their petty differences.

For Jena!
For the Kami!