To Serve Hominkind
Posted: Wed Oct 11, 2006 8:35 pm
"Ah, Mistress Dovoos, after so many years, you've finally served me," Meravyel's voice reflected an edge of ironic humor, but she did not chuckle, nor did her face betray any hint of her amusement. The corners of her mouth quirked in a peculiar fashion that might've been interpreted by an onlooker as the start of a grin, or something as different as a display of annoyance. A small bone fetish danced between her fingers, little more than a focus of physical sensation and a display of pent up energy belied by her calm posture, as her eyes watched the Goo covered landscape in the changing colors of the sunfade.
Meravyel had once been of a servant family. Her servant family had once served House Dovoos. House Dovoos had once been a noble family of Matisian scholars.
The Great Swarming changed all of that in the buzzing and stinging of three score kipesta.
"Had, had, had," Meravyel tossed the fetish upward, snatching it from the air and clutching it tightly in her fist. She held it between her thumb and forefinger, holding it before her face, "So much for what you had, Mistress."
The few Dovoos family members that had escaped Matia with their servants decided to travel together through the wilds. This was the first great mistake of many, but in Meravyel's mind it was the foremost cause of their fall. It finalized the fate of the family.
The last of the Dovoos, and all remnants of their servants save one, perished in the destruction of the Caligaro outpost. Meravyel's father had insisted they move on and was ignored - their second greatest mistake. He died delivering the warning. The final warning came, too late, in the roar of a great kipucka.
When the carnage was done, all that remained was a young and badly wounded Matisian girl and the bodies of the slain, trapped in a collapsed room. Survival instincts are stronger in the young, and the girl had little trouble quickly assessing her situation. Her father had taught her that any creatures flesh could be eaten, and any creatures blood could serve when water was lacking. He hadnt meant the flesh and blood of homins, and never would have considered such an abomination. A child though, would and did. Cold winter air kept the flesh from decaying too quickly while slivers of space between fallen timbers allowed the passage of air, and some melted snow. Teeth and bones became tools. Flesh and skin became sustenance. Everything had a use.
Idle hands, idle mind. The girl kept herself busy.
Smoke from a fire drew in a scout who freed the girl from her prison. She had been trapped for nearly twenty-four days.
Meravyel was far from feral when he freed her, despite her foul smell and disturbing appearance. She had gathered all of the documents and important materials from the packs of the fallen, organized them, and repacked them into her own belongings. Her clothes were multicolored, and of a fairly sturdy weave. Only on close inspection did the scout realize they were woven of Matis hair. She spoke clearly and calmly, thanking him for the rescue, and asking for fresh water. Little more than twelve years old, she asked to join his group, and introduced herself as the last of House Dovoos, adopting the name as her own.
This, and the rest, is history. There are few who remember it that yet live, and the stories change from generation to generation. Meravyel slipped the bone fetish back into her belt pouch. It clinked against the others. Only she would know her truth. Reminiscing could wait - Her eyes had finally caught the movement theyd been seeking; a small ripple at the edge of the Goo field. A sign of something.
Meravyel had once been of a servant family. Her servant family had once served House Dovoos. House Dovoos had once been a noble family of Matisian scholars.
The Great Swarming changed all of that in the buzzing and stinging of three score kipesta.
"Had, had, had," Meravyel tossed the fetish upward, snatching it from the air and clutching it tightly in her fist. She held it between her thumb and forefinger, holding it before her face, "So much for what you had, Mistress."
The few Dovoos family members that had escaped Matia with their servants decided to travel together through the wilds. This was the first great mistake of many, but in Meravyel's mind it was the foremost cause of their fall. It finalized the fate of the family.
The last of the Dovoos, and all remnants of their servants save one, perished in the destruction of the Caligaro outpost. Meravyel's father had insisted they move on and was ignored - their second greatest mistake. He died delivering the warning. The final warning came, too late, in the roar of a great kipucka.
When the carnage was done, all that remained was a young and badly wounded Matisian girl and the bodies of the slain, trapped in a collapsed room. Survival instincts are stronger in the young, and the girl had little trouble quickly assessing her situation. Her father had taught her that any creatures flesh could be eaten, and any creatures blood could serve when water was lacking. He hadnt meant the flesh and blood of homins, and never would have considered such an abomination. A child though, would and did. Cold winter air kept the flesh from decaying too quickly while slivers of space between fallen timbers allowed the passage of air, and some melted snow. Teeth and bones became tools. Flesh and skin became sustenance. Everything had a use.
Idle hands, idle mind. The girl kept herself busy.
Smoke from a fire drew in a scout who freed the girl from her prison. She had been trapped for nearly twenty-four days.
Meravyel was far from feral when he freed her, despite her foul smell and disturbing appearance. She had gathered all of the documents and important materials from the packs of the fallen, organized them, and repacked them into her own belongings. Her clothes were multicolored, and of a fairly sturdy weave. Only on close inspection did the scout realize they were woven of Matis hair. She spoke clearly and calmly, thanking him for the rescue, and asking for fresh water. Little more than twelve years old, she asked to join his group, and introduced herself as the last of House Dovoos, adopting the name as her own.
This, and the rest, is history. There are few who remember it that yet live, and the stories change from generation to generation. Meravyel slipped the bone fetish back into her belt pouch. It clinked against the others. Only she would know her truth. Reminiscing could wait - Her eyes had finally caught the movement theyd been seeking; a small ripple at the edge of the Goo field. A sign of something.
