Mermydae - Night of Orphans
Posted: Thu Dec 01, 2005 9:31 pm
My sincere thanks to DJ who was so kind as to correct most of the spelling errors, to my guild for forcing me to write a biography 
and to Nevrax for the setting. My apologies for flaws, mistakes or other errors left in. I enjoyed working at it and am open to suggestions.
Mermydae - Night of Orphans
Darkness had crept into our hearts that night in the refugee camp. Outside, a few dozen men and women were howling hymns at the blackest night I had seen in my youngest years. The clouds had hidden the stars and the moon and wrapped its obsidian tentacles around the camp, only kept at bay by perimeter patrols and the bonfires spread between the tents. We were the only beacon for the last survivors of the onslaught.
It all started earlier that evening when our village, some thirty miles to the west of the camp, was still bathing in the last sunrays. The sandy roads were packed with the craftsmen and women that provided the necessary goods for us to survive in these hostile lands. My memories arent as clear as they used to be, as I repressed many of the events that transpired that day, but I must have been five, maybe six years old because I was still holding my mothers hand. Her firm grip clasped my hand into her own palm as we squeezed our way through the masses to reach the food-stores. Even though basic goods were distributed evenly among the villagers, the first to arrive were the ones to make the best pickings while the last had to do with the poorest products, often gone bad due to heat. I remember quite some nights that I lay in bed with a rumbling stomach and nothing to eat.
As dozens of legs passed through my narrow horizon, I was struck by a mild sense of claustrophobia; my breath was hastier than the effort required and a few times I almost tripped over a rock stuck in the road. I must have clutched her hand a little too hard, as the next moment she turned around and looked at me with a worried frown on her face. Are you okay, Mermy, she said then, I sometimes forget how difficult it is for a child surrounded by taller people. I would then look up and give her a reassuring nod, but she always checked up on me, leveling herself to look me straight in the eyes to make sure I would be okay. You know how important it is to arrive on time before the best meat and the greenest vegetables are gone. If anyone else would have said those words it might have sounded as a reprimand, but I knew the truth behind them and that it was only meant in my own best interest.
When, after an intense struggle, we finally reached the food-stores, my mother stole the greener vegetables and fruit from under the hands of our competitors and piled them up within my arms before putting some into her own pockets. When I think back of it, I smile about these small gestures of unconditional love. She would first take care of me before feeding herself, and I believe I realized it back then too, because no matter how much she piled into my arms, I never complained. The Yubo meat was of lesser quality than previous days, but what it lacked in quality, it made up for in quantity. As my mother opened the bag she had been carrying in her other hand, I felt my stomach start to growl. By the time we left the crowd behind, we were both packed as Mektoubs with goods trapped between my arms, cradled around a large green melon, and a headstrong orange, which was continually trying to elude the pressure my chin had on it.
High above us, far away from homins and their worldly concerns, the sky had turned crimson and bleak clouds drifted in from the west chased onward by invisible winds. It was one of the strangest phenomena I had ever seen out of the rain season, and as I tried to point up into the sky to show my mother, the melon slipped out of my arms onto the dusty road, and along with it the entire pile started to shift balance until all I had left was the orange. Some of the people added the goods to their own while others were friendly enough to hand them back, but most were gazing into the heavens like myself and I felt my mothers hand resting on my shoulders.
As the sounds of the bustling market around us quieted down to the whispers of those that couldnt believe their eyes, I looked up at my mother, her lips firmly closed in a thin line and with closed eyelids she watched the whirling wind play with the dust in the streets and carry a few feathers of an Izam around in playful circles until I too could discern the buzzing sound in the distance. At first it was no more then a monotonous zoom, almost identical to those of the mosquitos attracted to the oil lamps accentuating the market place, but as I focused my concentration and kept my breath I could hear the sound rapidly increase in volume and I knew by the way my mother pulled me closer to her chest that we were in for trouble. As the monstrous creature with its many wings and narrow long beak broke the barriers of our village, we were all thrown at the ground, my mother on top of me, while shielding my head with her hands.
The Kipesta pulled up behind the east walls into the night sky for another attack from above. Some people quickly stood up and hurried to the barracks to arm themselves against this unfamiliar threat. Before I realized it, my mother had pulled me up from the road and was dragging me to a nearby alley where other women were hiding with their own children. Due to the angle of our niche it was hard to see what transpired even a few feet away from us, but I could see the soldiers line up and aim with their large weapons on their shoulders and a knee in the dirt for extra support. The salvo was accompanied by a deafening noise, multiplied by the reflection against the many walls and for a moment I thought they had missed, but then the Kitin corpse drew a trail into the sand passed our alley and its only response were a few last twitches from the transparent wings on its back.
Excitement and curiosity quickly won from my fear, but as I tried to take a closer look, my mother pulled me back, held me close and wrapped her arms around me as if it would protect me from creatures as tall as the palm trees in the oasis. I looked up at her and noticed how the braids in her hair had come loose, hiding half of her face and for some reason I couldnt explain, it worried me. I had already opened my mouth to ask her a question when she interfered: That Kipesta was merely a scout. Her voice was clear and the words were not meant for me alone but for the other women and children as well. They never come alone; their army will surround our city and level it with the ground. I cant ever remember that my mother would lie about anything or even speak words that she wouldnt know for sure and I wondered if this had anything to do with the reason why she had left my father behind more years ago then I counted as my own. It didnt take long before her prophecy came true and a loud shrieking sound rumbled in the distance. It still echoed within my ears when a group of ten soldiers passed our niche between the walls. They were driven forward by the booming voice of an officer holding a large shield and a sword that had seen better days. On the walls, sand-maggots! The helmet gave him a fearful appearance, and I couldnt imagine that these trained professionals would be unable to save us from a few large insects.
Many of the other women felt the same way and left the alley, holding their children on an arm or pulling them along hand in hand. But my mother and I stayed behind. The scout came from the west so they will attack from that direction, she said without emotion. I couldnt help but notice by the way the corners of her mouth moved that it reminded her of things in the past. We will have to leave the village through the east gate and run as far and fast as possible. But the guards will protect us, I replied somewhat sheepishly, rising my right brow and wondering if her decision wouldnt be a little too prudent. But she only shook her head, slowly as if she would have rather agreed with me, but knew in her heart that it wasnt going to happen. These men arent trained to deal with the Kitin, they are relentless. Of course we had heard about the Kitin and how they had wiped out entire cities from the reports of refugees seeking shelter within our walls, but we had never encountered them in large numbers. Prior to the Kipestas attack, they had been rather peaceful to us, gathering resources around our village but never coming so close to it as to pose any danger.
The village was divided on what the best course of action should be. My mother wasnt alone in her opinion and voices of other concerned villagers, fearful that the events that lead to the destruction of other towns could happen to their own. Some even remembered it first hand or at least claimed so, but the majority put their trust within the hands of the soldiers, who had already placed themselves in defensive positions on the walls. I would have liked to have stayed, because the walls gave me a sense of protection, but my mother didnt wait for the villagers to make up their minds and pulled me along to the east gate. We were haunted by the sounds of a fierce battle raging behind us while large guns fired their deadly ammunitions at creatures with eerie squeaking voices and thousands of legs crawling along the dry desert soil made shivers run down my spine, but when we finally reached the eastern gate, we noticed it was closed.
Im sorry maam, but we cant let you through as long as those Kitin are attacking us A burly guard with a scar across his right cheek blocked our passage. I was still trying to catch my breath from our sprint when my mother replied him with a suppressed sense of urgency in her voice. The soldiers will not survive this attack and the city needs to be evacuated as fast as possible. This is not a raiding party, but the brunt of their army. I noticed little change of expression on the guards face other then the disapproving sound he made with his nostrils. I suggest you seek shelter within the confines of your home if you have so little trust in the abilities of our army, maam At the same time he pronounced those last words, a loud cracking sound behind us followed by a cloud of dust particles resulted in a breach of the walls. If we wouldnt have been in so much danger I would have found it amusing to watch the different emotions on his face fight for dominance, but my mother didnt wait and ran past him to pull the lever to open the large wooden gate with its cast iron hinges. We werent the only ones trying to escape through that gate and as the defeated population joined us at our route I could still see the flashes of weapons lighting up against the grim walls of a broken city. Behind us buildings collapsed as the Kinchers tore them down with their massive claws, more efficiently and permanent then any homin could have done and I wondered if I would ever have another home.
I remember a man flying through the sky as if he was a bird. He landed in the middle of a crowd of fleeing villagers and was trampled in the path of terror and the desire of survival that drove the mob forward with a tenacity that bordered on lunacy. Nobody knew compassion as the man was still there after the feet had disappeared, his armor torn in pieces, his neck turned around in an unnatural position, and his eyes still showed the disbelief that he must have experienced just prior to his dead. My mother watched the corpse with a stare in her eyes that I had never seen before and I realized that she must have felt just as bad as me. I tried to pull her along with me while continually repeating He is dead, we must hurry, we cant do anything for him. But she pulled her arm out of my grasp and walked towards the corpse, slowly taking one step after another until she sunk to her knees right in front of the body. With his head in her lap she sat there for what seemed to last hours and I did not recognize the man as anybody I knew.
I do not know how long we waited there, but by the time she stood up and walked towards me, her tears wiped from her eyes, the gunfire within the city had quieted down and only the sound of the Kitin could still be heard. We ran past the gate and I didnt look backwards to my former home. There was nothing left but ruins as monuments to memories past and too many unidentifiable bodies. I ran until all I could hear was the beating of my heart deep within my ears, all I could smell was of sweat and decaying corpses and all I could feel was defeat and emptiness and a sparkle of hope when I saw the bonfires burn in the distance and the realization that I had survived the ordeal.
That night the Kitin didnt pursue for reasons that I still cant explain. Orphans passed our tents as a last testament to the brave but eventually needless fight their parents had fought that evening. I was strongly convinced that many more could have been saved if we had simply retreated instead of putting up defenses. The gates would have bought us enough time, but at that point there was little we could change about it. We needed to rest and gather our strength; it would still be a long journey to join our brethren in the new lands.
and to Nevrax for the setting. My apologies for flaws, mistakes or other errors left in. I enjoyed working at it and am open to suggestions.Mermydae - Night of Orphans
Darkness had crept into our hearts that night in the refugee camp. Outside, a few dozen men and women were howling hymns at the blackest night I had seen in my youngest years. The clouds had hidden the stars and the moon and wrapped its obsidian tentacles around the camp, only kept at bay by perimeter patrols and the bonfires spread between the tents. We were the only beacon for the last survivors of the onslaught.
It all started earlier that evening when our village, some thirty miles to the west of the camp, was still bathing in the last sunrays. The sandy roads were packed with the craftsmen and women that provided the necessary goods for us to survive in these hostile lands. My memories arent as clear as they used to be, as I repressed many of the events that transpired that day, but I must have been five, maybe six years old because I was still holding my mothers hand. Her firm grip clasped my hand into her own palm as we squeezed our way through the masses to reach the food-stores. Even though basic goods were distributed evenly among the villagers, the first to arrive were the ones to make the best pickings while the last had to do with the poorest products, often gone bad due to heat. I remember quite some nights that I lay in bed with a rumbling stomach and nothing to eat.
As dozens of legs passed through my narrow horizon, I was struck by a mild sense of claustrophobia; my breath was hastier than the effort required and a few times I almost tripped over a rock stuck in the road. I must have clutched her hand a little too hard, as the next moment she turned around and looked at me with a worried frown on her face. Are you okay, Mermy, she said then, I sometimes forget how difficult it is for a child surrounded by taller people. I would then look up and give her a reassuring nod, but she always checked up on me, leveling herself to look me straight in the eyes to make sure I would be okay. You know how important it is to arrive on time before the best meat and the greenest vegetables are gone. If anyone else would have said those words it might have sounded as a reprimand, but I knew the truth behind them and that it was only meant in my own best interest.
When, after an intense struggle, we finally reached the food-stores, my mother stole the greener vegetables and fruit from under the hands of our competitors and piled them up within my arms before putting some into her own pockets. When I think back of it, I smile about these small gestures of unconditional love. She would first take care of me before feeding herself, and I believe I realized it back then too, because no matter how much she piled into my arms, I never complained. The Yubo meat was of lesser quality than previous days, but what it lacked in quality, it made up for in quantity. As my mother opened the bag she had been carrying in her other hand, I felt my stomach start to growl. By the time we left the crowd behind, we were both packed as Mektoubs with goods trapped between my arms, cradled around a large green melon, and a headstrong orange, which was continually trying to elude the pressure my chin had on it.
High above us, far away from homins and their worldly concerns, the sky had turned crimson and bleak clouds drifted in from the west chased onward by invisible winds. It was one of the strangest phenomena I had ever seen out of the rain season, and as I tried to point up into the sky to show my mother, the melon slipped out of my arms onto the dusty road, and along with it the entire pile started to shift balance until all I had left was the orange. Some of the people added the goods to their own while others were friendly enough to hand them back, but most were gazing into the heavens like myself and I felt my mothers hand resting on my shoulders.
As the sounds of the bustling market around us quieted down to the whispers of those that couldnt believe their eyes, I looked up at my mother, her lips firmly closed in a thin line and with closed eyelids she watched the whirling wind play with the dust in the streets and carry a few feathers of an Izam around in playful circles until I too could discern the buzzing sound in the distance. At first it was no more then a monotonous zoom, almost identical to those of the mosquitos attracted to the oil lamps accentuating the market place, but as I focused my concentration and kept my breath I could hear the sound rapidly increase in volume and I knew by the way my mother pulled me closer to her chest that we were in for trouble. As the monstrous creature with its many wings and narrow long beak broke the barriers of our village, we were all thrown at the ground, my mother on top of me, while shielding my head with her hands.
The Kipesta pulled up behind the east walls into the night sky for another attack from above. Some people quickly stood up and hurried to the barracks to arm themselves against this unfamiliar threat. Before I realized it, my mother had pulled me up from the road and was dragging me to a nearby alley where other women were hiding with their own children. Due to the angle of our niche it was hard to see what transpired even a few feet away from us, but I could see the soldiers line up and aim with their large weapons on their shoulders and a knee in the dirt for extra support. The salvo was accompanied by a deafening noise, multiplied by the reflection against the many walls and for a moment I thought they had missed, but then the Kitin corpse drew a trail into the sand passed our alley and its only response were a few last twitches from the transparent wings on its back.
Excitement and curiosity quickly won from my fear, but as I tried to take a closer look, my mother pulled me back, held me close and wrapped her arms around me as if it would protect me from creatures as tall as the palm trees in the oasis. I looked up at her and noticed how the braids in her hair had come loose, hiding half of her face and for some reason I couldnt explain, it worried me. I had already opened my mouth to ask her a question when she interfered: That Kipesta was merely a scout. Her voice was clear and the words were not meant for me alone but for the other women and children as well. They never come alone; their army will surround our city and level it with the ground. I cant ever remember that my mother would lie about anything or even speak words that she wouldnt know for sure and I wondered if this had anything to do with the reason why she had left my father behind more years ago then I counted as my own. It didnt take long before her prophecy came true and a loud shrieking sound rumbled in the distance. It still echoed within my ears when a group of ten soldiers passed our niche between the walls. They were driven forward by the booming voice of an officer holding a large shield and a sword that had seen better days. On the walls, sand-maggots! The helmet gave him a fearful appearance, and I couldnt imagine that these trained professionals would be unable to save us from a few large insects.
Many of the other women felt the same way and left the alley, holding their children on an arm or pulling them along hand in hand. But my mother and I stayed behind. The scout came from the west so they will attack from that direction, she said without emotion. I couldnt help but notice by the way the corners of her mouth moved that it reminded her of things in the past. We will have to leave the village through the east gate and run as far and fast as possible. But the guards will protect us, I replied somewhat sheepishly, rising my right brow and wondering if her decision wouldnt be a little too prudent. But she only shook her head, slowly as if she would have rather agreed with me, but knew in her heart that it wasnt going to happen. These men arent trained to deal with the Kitin, they are relentless. Of course we had heard about the Kitin and how they had wiped out entire cities from the reports of refugees seeking shelter within our walls, but we had never encountered them in large numbers. Prior to the Kipestas attack, they had been rather peaceful to us, gathering resources around our village but never coming so close to it as to pose any danger.
The village was divided on what the best course of action should be. My mother wasnt alone in her opinion and voices of other concerned villagers, fearful that the events that lead to the destruction of other towns could happen to their own. Some even remembered it first hand or at least claimed so, but the majority put their trust within the hands of the soldiers, who had already placed themselves in defensive positions on the walls. I would have liked to have stayed, because the walls gave me a sense of protection, but my mother didnt wait for the villagers to make up their minds and pulled me along to the east gate. We were haunted by the sounds of a fierce battle raging behind us while large guns fired their deadly ammunitions at creatures with eerie squeaking voices and thousands of legs crawling along the dry desert soil made shivers run down my spine, but when we finally reached the eastern gate, we noticed it was closed.
Im sorry maam, but we cant let you through as long as those Kitin are attacking us A burly guard with a scar across his right cheek blocked our passage. I was still trying to catch my breath from our sprint when my mother replied him with a suppressed sense of urgency in her voice. The soldiers will not survive this attack and the city needs to be evacuated as fast as possible. This is not a raiding party, but the brunt of their army. I noticed little change of expression on the guards face other then the disapproving sound he made with his nostrils. I suggest you seek shelter within the confines of your home if you have so little trust in the abilities of our army, maam At the same time he pronounced those last words, a loud cracking sound behind us followed by a cloud of dust particles resulted in a breach of the walls. If we wouldnt have been in so much danger I would have found it amusing to watch the different emotions on his face fight for dominance, but my mother didnt wait and ran past him to pull the lever to open the large wooden gate with its cast iron hinges. We werent the only ones trying to escape through that gate and as the defeated population joined us at our route I could still see the flashes of weapons lighting up against the grim walls of a broken city. Behind us buildings collapsed as the Kinchers tore them down with their massive claws, more efficiently and permanent then any homin could have done and I wondered if I would ever have another home.
I remember a man flying through the sky as if he was a bird. He landed in the middle of a crowd of fleeing villagers and was trampled in the path of terror and the desire of survival that drove the mob forward with a tenacity that bordered on lunacy. Nobody knew compassion as the man was still there after the feet had disappeared, his armor torn in pieces, his neck turned around in an unnatural position, and his eyes still showed the disbelief that he must have experienced just prior to his dead. My mother watched the corpse with a stare in her eyes that I had never seen before and I realized that she must have felt just as bad as me. I tried to pull her along with me while continually repeating He is dead, we must hurry, we cant do anything for him. But she pulled her arm out of my grasp and walked towards the corpse, slowly taking one step after another until she sunk to her knees right in front of the body. With his head in her lap she sat there for what seemed to last hours and I did not recognize the man as anybody I knew.
I do not know how long we waited there, but by the time she stood up and walked towards me, her tears wiped from her eyes, the gunfire within the city had quieted down and only the sound of the Kitin could still be heard. We ran past the gate and I didnt look backwards to my former home. There was nothing left but ruins as monuments to memories past and too many unidentifiable bodies. I ran until all I could hear was the beating of my heart deep within my ears, all I could smell was of sweat and decaying corpses and all I could feel was defeat and emptiness and a sparkle of hope when I saw the bonfires burn in the distance and the realization that I had survived the ordeal.
That night the Kitin didnt pursue for reasons that I still cant explain. Orphans passed our tents as a last testament to the brave but eventually needless fight their parents had fought that evening. I was strongly convinced that many more could have been saved if we had simply retreated instead of putting up defenses. The gates would have bought us enough time, but at that point there was little we could change about it. We needed to rest and gather our strength; it would still be a long journey to join our brethren in the new lands.
