“The industrial might of the Waress peoples has crushed us.  With their weapons of that would bend but not shatter and hack through the hardest of our woods with ease, they took us, bound us in chains that burned our skin, took of us our Weclan from our skins, our elders stripped of them for “art”, our young taken for their entertainment.” spat a man, larger than life and draped head to toe by the pelt of a great white bear the dull colours of a once vibrantly painted armour of linens underneath the age stained horned bear skin, his clothing striking harshly against the reddening leaves of the forest clearing, the crowd of men and women around him, young and old all, hair darkest black.

“And they claim us beasts, they claim us the monsters that crawl in the nights of horrors, they would see your homes burned to dig the metals from within, to sow grains that break teeth, fit only for the boars” the man spat with vitriol unbefitting of his status.

 the crowd around him saw the dyed markings adorning his skin, clashing with skin whiter than the freshest of milk, his eyes as red as the paints running along his fingers and nails, tracing his neck and along the great braided beard, streaks of the white hair dyed a deep red of the sacred paints of Augurs and seers, those who dwell in the wild places further than even children dare play, dwelling amongst the gods and of nature's great gifts.

Raising his weapon up high, an axe with a small downturned head, the tool of a shepherd, used to care for flocks… and to strike down any creature who would dare harm them.

“Now Brothers! Sisters! I call you to fight, not just by your family's arms, no, I call us to fight for us all, to fight until our enemy is bled dry, until every child is brought back! Until every Weclan mark is laid to rest, until our ancestors' lands are no longer tarnished by their TAINT!” The man screamed, his booming voice carrying far into the heavens, a shake of thunder echoing from afar, nigh drowned out by his booming scream, the people screamed their response, agreement clear even to the worms.

As he shouted the leaves now a faint yellow, trees older and larger. Markings hundreds of years old etched into roots and stumps.

“Shall we merely wait! Until life is choked out of our forests? Our homes? Our livestock stolen and slaughtered? Shall we wait while the lands are salted so that not even weeds grow? Well then my cousins?” he shouted to the people, white haired man, backed by a crowd of black hair, skins the dark found only in fields and faces hardened and grim, even the youngest amongst them bearing the marks of the Waress scourges.

The pale hair people held hope for peace, screaming of ways that would not harm the spirits, that would not drown the lands in blood, not curse the very trees with hate. Until the Augur called upon a child, not even into adulthood they surmised, her frame small, chest not yet grown,  or so they thought.

“You claim those monsters can be reasoned with? Those soldiers are greater monsters than any nightmare, breaking and burning and mutilating all they touch '' the man looked back, positively downing out the girl's frame, yet the people could see the determination in her eyes, no, it wasn't determination, it was hate.

Looking at the girl she shook for a second, the large man placing his hand on her shoulder for a second before she moved it, marching to the pedestal  and yelling, her voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Do you truly think they can be talked to? That the Waress can be reasoned with? They will not hear your begging! They will not hear your screams! Vile beasts, bastards, demons” She screamed.

“My name is Anoctle, of the Nensleli, we talked! They came with promises of enlightenment, of teaching! And yet when their carts reached their cities we were sold like cattle! I had three sisters, and within a week I saw their bodies hanging from ropes, the punishment they give to escaped slaves.” she screamed, her voice sounding wet, as if her very heart bled.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“ I could only recognise them by my youngest sister's scars, one she got from a ferret, her face I could not tell” she spoke, quietly and yet it carried far.

“I am a woman in my sixteenth year, I was once a mother!” The crowd looked shocked to her, surely she was far younger.

“My ‘masters’ daughter found it cruel that I grew but she didn't, so she had her men flay my woman hood from my chest, feed the dogs and forced me to watch!” Anoctle roared, louder than any thought possible, her hand stripping her shirt from her body, the sight on the gnarled and twisting scar where her chest was, sickened the crowd, yet hardened their resolve when Anoctle spoke again.

“So tell me people of Gath’lorn, shall your daughters end up like me? Harmed and bloated by demons! Shall your sons end as feed for dogs and boars and the monsters they hide in their bloodsports? will you let them take your children from their cribs, to be raised as sows and slaves? WELL” she screamed, her voice so harsh it was near unintelligible, it was met by raised hands, weapons old and new, even the roots from the grounds fashioned into clubs and spears as their march continued.

As the weeks of their travel passed, they got news constantly, of singular survivors of attacks by the Waress, having to change course constantly, shifting to find communities untouched by the great enemy, able to be saved, to fight.

Setting up camp the great bear looked upon them, what started as one man's desperate pleas to save their lands turned to hundreds then to thousands, marching with livestock and mounts, his eyes burning from the sights of the fires, et exhilarated by the peoples cheers he retreated to his tent, large and portable, made from the skins of many great animals.

In his tent the large man saw the thin frame of Anoctle, studying the markings of the old Augurs, yet to earn her markings, her studies were endless, tiring and hard, yet she carried on unerringly, their traditions would die before they would if they would not put everything to preserving them.

“Anoctle, its is late dear, and tonight is to be colder than most, i know even the great mountain winds cannot stop your studies but please wear something warmer than just your cloak” the great bear spoke, his words unheeded as she continued to read, completely engrossed by the mythic stories and laws.

Huffing in the way only he could, he shed his great pelt, and layed it over her frame, drowning all her limbs in its shapelessness… and much to her chagrin smell. Looking back, as she saw her teacher Anoctle sat up straight, her back unfurling quickly as she brought up an ancient and traditional greeting for one teacher she found in the texts, head lowering to the ground as she greeted him, stiff and slow.

Looking upon her attempt, the great bear laughed, a hearty chortle that echoed in her chest.

“Ah, it has been long since i've seen anyone perform a Sequla, though you did yours wrong” he said with a laugh, pale beard shaking as he did so, pointing to her feet “ your feet are not to touch and the arch should all but scrape the dirt” he said as he used the handle of his axe to poke her legs from his bed roll.

“I remember when my teacher taught me it, a harsh lady she was, each time i got it wrong she made headbutt the ground, an apology to the spirits of the elders i offended she would say” the man spoke cheerfully yet longingly, stroking the horns of his pelt as he sat close to Anoctle.

“You have spoken about her before but never her name sir, if i may be so bold to ask what her name was” Anoctle asked knowing of the taboo that an Augurs name was.

“The dead fear not control Anoctle, it is fine to ask” the great bear spoke, his voice sorrowful. “Her name was Lay-yul, a beautiful woman, she was, even in death, she was as radiant as the sweetest summer memory” the bear chuckled sorrowfully to himself.

“Sir… if… what were you called before…” Anoctle began to ask stopping only after getting hit on the head by the handle of the great bear's axe.

“Being bold is a virtue only some of the time child, watch what you ask as some may take it harshly” the bear said his tone dead and devoid of the jovial nature he keeps private.

Anoctle rubbed the sore spot on her head as the man continued

“Though to ask itself is not a crime” the bear groaned as he said so, thinking to himself as he spoke.

“It will be a very long march until we enter the Mane lands, so how about I entertain with a story or two as we march”  the man spoke kindly. “But first sleep, it is late and i don't want you complaining tomorrow” he chuckles rolling to his bed roll and getting comfortable.

“Yes sir” Anoctle said quietly as she went to her bed, a small thing, wooden framed and hard on her back, her teacher said it would build her tolerance for the future, she thought it was a punishment for some unknown crime she committed in a past life.

Curling up on the bed, wrapping herself in the bear pelt, its smell as strong as ever as much as it infuriated, she did have to agree it was cold.