Julius calendar 899
Month Of The Birthed Lamb
22nd
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Throughout the Axe fresh life was budding. The past winter had been a frigidly cold one, all the weak and old denizens of the forest had suffered greatly. But as is the way with nature after such a hard winter comes a blissful gratifying spring that sees new life burst into being. A delicate balance is struck.
In the glade many fresh blossom shoots had begun to slowly bud their way up through the frozen earth basking in the suns warmth for the first time. The chittering sound of fledgling birds could be heard from nests up high as their parents diligently flitted about fetching fresh food for the mewling young. In the sky for the first time in a few months the warm sun was framed within a bright blue canvas, not a cloud in sight. Unseasonably lovely weather.
Jasper was presently perched cross legged upon the black daises. His Aroncole cloak magnificently sweeping down the length of his broad back before fanning out behind him. Whilst skinning the Aroncole and fashioning his cloak he had kept the top portion of the skull and beak attached to the skin. This allowed him to pull its head up like a hood, when he did so the top portion of skull resided atop the crown of his head whilst the base of the hooked beak snugly rested upon his brow.
He wore the cloak like that now. If one were to see Jasper presently and merely judge from his exterior appearance they would think him some type of boorish tribal chieftain. Upon his left cheek was a jagged scar that ran equal with the corner of his eye down to his nose. Matching that with his overall strong physicality, pelt loincloth and Aroncole cloak he truly did fit the image of a formidable forest savage.
The picture was a quaint yet tranquil one. A strapping bronze young man whom wore an Aroncoles fierce head as a hood and clad the same beasts pelt as a glossy black coat was seated motionlessly upon a black daises before a jagged tablet within a softly sun lit glade. Gently in the background life could be heard scurrying about tending to their newborn young. Truly picturesque.
Forcefully exhaling through his nose Jasper broke his own stillness. Opening his eyes a formless light could be seen flashing through his shimmering hazel pupils. Despite being ethereal it seemed more prominent and corporeal than it had been two years ago. Rising to his feet Jasper stepped off the daises and like he had always done he seemed to effortlessly float through the air before gently landing seven yards away. Maintaining a steady fluid stride Jasper sauntered across the glade to the forest line where a small wooden lean to rested against a broad oak. Inside of the crude lean to was nothing more than a few deer hides spread across the ground as bedding upon which lay a birch bow and a wicker quiver. The quiver was bristling full with rather well worn arrows. Deftly reaching into the lean to Jasper scooped up his bow and quiver slinging them both across his back in a single easy motion. He then turned and swiftly disappeared amidst the dark forest backdrop of the surrounding Axe.
Strolling along a faintly worn track Jasper mused to himself about the serenity of his life. Since he had slain the Aroncole nearly a year ago he had reverted to his regular routine of living. Hunting and seeking to unlock the next Gate. He was pleased with the good amount of headway he had made over the past year, he knew he was constantly encroaching upon the threshold of unlocking the fifth Gate. Exuberance flashed in his eyes as he anticipated filling up the sixth Gate, to say that Jasper was addicted to the blissful feeling of unlocking his Gates wouldn't be overly exaggerating. He was so devoted to his cause that he had left the small amount of civilisation that he had always known at the age of fourteen. Instead opting to live a secular lifestyle nestled away within the Axe so he could properly concentrate and dedicate himself to his grand task.
The devotion he had committed to unlocking his Gates was immense. Ever since he had unlocked the ninth Gate he knew what his life's purpose and goal would be. To unlock every one of his Gates. When Jasper dreamt of the strength he would have at that point it sent butterflies aflutter in his stomach. No matter the time it would take or the means he would have to resort to he would persevere, it was quite literally his sole mission in life. He didn't overly lust after the physical power and strength that it would endow him with, although the thought of it did entice him. No instead he was striving for the feeling of fulfilment and satisfaction he knew would engulf his body and soul as he finally completed a mission that he had already dedicated years to.
Dreamy lights glazed Jaspers eyes as he allowed his mind to wander and muse. They were quickly flushed away however as Jasper reached a stream that ran with excited white waters, flowing through the Axe. Occasionally nimble fish could be seen darting past. Some of them swum lazily letting the streams flow do most of the work for them. The waters ran rapidly for a forest stream and the other bank was nearly twenty yards across. It was the largest flowing body of water Jasper knew of in the area. Once when he was younger he had followed it downstream for a few days but it had quickly left the domain of the Axe. Standing at the Axe's boundary he had seen it stretch far away across the rolling plains to the west, he had no interest in anything that lay in that direction.
Crouching to one knee Jasper scooped up a handful of crystal water and splashed it across his slightly grimy face and hair, cleansing a few stray bits of mud from among his chestnut coloured mane that swung about his shoulders. The water was still cool from the harsh winter and felt blissful across his face. Having washed he then proceeded to remove his Aroncole cloak and birch bow and quiver before he waded out into the streams centre. The bubbling white water flew rapidly atop a shallow pebbled bed. At its deepest it only just rushed past Jaspers knees.
Squatting slightly Jasper cast his minds focus inside of himself to his Gates. Feeling his ninth Gate that was completely saturated with a lazily rotating energy Jasper lightly smiled to himself. With but a slight thought on his behalf a small thread of energy nipped free from the rotating vortex and agilely slipped out of a certain channel leading upwards. The ninth Gate dipped down in energy levels however it was naturally rapidly once again filled by the three Gates above it, the sixth Gate itself was the one that eventually suffered the energy deficiency.
Jasper had come to realise over the last ten years that the ninth Gate functioned efficiently as a dispenser for his body's host of energy. It had an extensive system of pathways leading from it that connected to every single part of the labyrinth like network that existed within his body. Although he could dispense energy from the eighth, seventh or even sixth Gates if he so chose to because of the lack of pathways exiting from those Gates he would be forced to circulate it through a long cumbersome route before it arrived where he needed it. Instead it was easier to utilise the ninth Gates large system of passages and just naturally let the Gates above refill it. It was his dispensary Gate.
The small thread of energy he had just beckoned darted upwards through his inner pathways quickly and in but a moment was where he willed it to be. His eyes. Utilising the energy upon any of his sensory organs greatly increased their capabilities. Channeling the energy to his eyes resulted in what Jasper thought to be a rather wondrous effect. For a moment his vision blurred then once again came into focus. An incredibly sharp focus. He could easily make out the shapes and colours of the pebbles that lay on the bottom of the river bed or the individual floating tiny bits of debris that bobbed by him. If anyone were to look at Jaspers eyes currently they would be rather stunned and assume him partially blind. Within his pupils was a slight foggy greyness. Any half skilled medical practitioner would announce it as the beginning of cataracts.
Summoning more energy from the ninth Gate to his eyes Jasper’s pupils rapidly turned even more opaque and clouded. The extra energy had no effect on the clarity of his vision but it did produce a spectacular effect Jasper found remarkably useful as a hunter. The living creatures that had occasionally flashed by him were now giving off a glow. Each living being had nine small glowing dots within them, brightly illuminating them to Jaspers foggy eyes. The dots were always in the same proportion to the animals size.
Softly grinning Jasper looked about him observing the immediate environment with his muggy eyes relishing the new view. On the opposite bank of the stream was a small water snake that was lying in wait for an unsuspecting vole that trundled along towards it, earlier he had been oblivious to the pair of them that appeared so blatantly visible to him now. The sparkling green canopy overhead now appeared brighter and all the more dazzling, numerous birds that were perched or flitted about were all softly lit up by nine small glowing dots, beautifying the leafy branches above him.
Smiling brightly Jasper marvelled at the wonders the daises had bought to his life, he was profoundly thankful he had found it. Turning his sharp gaze back to the stream he was crouched in he slowed his breathing and stilled his body. After a few minutes of such stillness his left arm flashed out in a strike and plunged into the flowing white waters without warning. A high arc of crystal water was splashed into the air, glimmering in the bright suns rays. Jaspers hand resurfaced and tightly grasped within it was a wriggling green fish. Nodding to himself he casually flicked the fish ashore to the bank beside his bow and cloak. The foot long green fish gasped and flipped about within the grass for a few minutes before finally yielding to its doomed situation and lying still.
Jasper continued fishing in this unique manner for two hours. When the sun climbed to its apex in the sky he waded back to the bank where there were eighteen fish scattered about his bow and cloak. All the fish were at least a foot in length, there was little point catching the smaller ones. Eighteen fish would be enough to feed a few families, he was satisfied with the mornings hunt. Re-donning his cloak, bow and quiver he deftly drew two arrows. He then proceeded to nimbly skewer nine fish through their tails upon each arrow. After doing so he pulled a small vine from a nearby oak tree and looped it round either end of both arrows, forming a rudimentary handle. Grasping his mornings labour in hand Jasper strolled away from the stream and made his way back to the trail that would lead him to Little Willow.
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As he meandered through the Axe he quietly listened to the chirping birds and squeaking wildlife, bustling to attend to their newborn young. For six years he had lived by himself in the Axe and for better or worse he had become adjusted to the solitary lifestyle. Although he had grown up in Little Willow, he had always spent great swathes of time in the Axe even when he had resided in the hamlet as a child. To him the glade was where he felt at home and could relax. Now when he went into Little Willow it felt similar to when he had first ventured into the Axe, everything was uncomfortable and foreign. Admittedly however it was pleasant not having to worry about whether an Aroncole was lurking at you amidst the bushes. Jasper had spent his hungry early youth in Little Willow alongside his father, for those reasons the hamlet occupied a very special position in his heart, regardless of the foreign feeling.
As Jasper neared the edges of the Axe a small slither of discomfort wormed its way into his chest, a restlessness even. His bronzed brows slightly creased as he dismissed the strange feeling that had queerly come over him. A soft breeze danced towards him from the west. Jaspers footsteps paused upon the trail. Upon the breezes back should of been carried the fragrance of grass fields and freshly tilled earth. However instead it delivered a rancid arid aroma to Jaspers sensitive nose. The smokey smell of smouldering wood.
Worry burst into his heart as he broke out into a light trot, intending to shorten the remaining five minutes of the journey. Nearing the edge of the Axe the bountiful wildlife that had been so energetic and exuberant by the stream and glade was far more withdrawn and subdued. All the animals seemed wary and frightful. Types of birds that had been chirruping joyful songs in the glade were hunkered quietly within their nests here. Jasper being a man of the forest read this subtle change, it further concerned him. As he neared Little Willow the smell of smoke and smouldering charcoal got stronger and more domineering, fanning the flames of worry burning in his chest. It wasn't overly common for the wooden huts of Little Willow to set ablaze however that didn't mean it didn't happen.
A wide range of scenarios involving fire and grievous injuries coursed through his mind as he neared in on his hamlet of birth. As the trees of the Axe slowly became sparser and the shrubbery became thinner the western fields of Little Willow gradually came into view piece by piece. A sore sight was slowly drawn together before Jasper’s worried gaze. Instead of the shin high green wheat and oats that should've decorated the fields expanse there was now only blackened clumps of stubble, the fields outer edges were still smouldering.
Beholding the tragic view Jasper slowed from his nervous trot back to a walk and let loose a heavy sigh. Such a blow was a substantial one for the farming folk of Little Willow. This would put the Autumn harvest back by a month and a half by the time they had tilled the lands again and resown the seeds. A bitter smile surfaced upon Jaspers gloomy face as he realised he was going to have his work cut out for him this year. If he didn't account for the lost grain by hunting then the recent blooming prosperity of Little Willow would regress back to the days of famine Jasper remembered as a child. That was something he didn't want to see. Within the swirling downcast emotions buried inside of his chest there was also nestled a small bud of relief. Jasper would rather see the fields razed to the ground than have someone sustain injuries in a hut fire. That's the type of individual he was.
It was with a pungent gloomy air that he resumed walking forward on the hunting trail. As more and more of the damage to the crop was revealed to him the gloomy cloud swirling about Jasper thickened considerably.
Suddenly having caught sight of something Jasper shot still, rigid. His gaze had breached through the Axes border past the last of the bushes and trees to Little Willow. What greeted his eyes made his blood run colder than thousand year old ice. The sound of the fish he had been carrying wetly hitting the floor rung through the eerily quiet forest. He stood weakly sagged upon the same spot for a whole minute. The Aroncole cloak that fell across his broad back developed a tremble. After what seemed an age he began trudging forward. His feet dragged and each step was listless and limp. It took him a few minutes to clear the last twenty yards of forest to reach the boundaries of the charred black fields.
Once by the fields and out of the forest he's legs gave way and he slowly sank to his knees. Jaspers strong jaw currently hung slack, his eyes were wide open in disbelief and horror as he took in the morbid sight before him. Little Willow had been torched to to ground. Smoking black foundations were all that remained of the quaint little hamlet he had grown up in. All the surrounding crop fields had been razed to the ground as well.
But it wasn't this that so utterly devastated Jasper. As he looked at the twisted mound of flesh that stood where the centre of Little Willow had been he felt his stomach turn. Then he vomited. Two streams of tears freely fell as he threw up again and again on the black burnt ground. The sun that had felt warm and cherishing earlier in the day now seemed glaring and unforgiving. Gasping and retching he stumbled up onto his shaking legs, his proud cloak fell from stopped shoulders.
Shakily stumbling onward his mind was in a twisted mess trying to process the gruesome scenery before him. He was oblivious to everything apart from the gory mound that stood in the centre of his burnt hamlet ahead of him. Denial resounded loudly in his head drowning out any other potential thoughts. From lips flecked with spittle and tears he whispered a confused and heartbroken sentence.
“It can't be.”
As the man walked across the burnt black earth into the smoking remains of Little Willow the realisation that this was reality and was truly happening struck him. It struck him so heavily he fell again. This time to his hands and knees. His entire body was wracked with an intense trembling as emotions exploded inside of him so intense and overwhelming that he felt his chest was compressing. Gasping he struggled to draw the oxygen he needed into his lungs. He raised his head and lifted his gaze from the blackened ground. What he saw was burnt into the deepest reaches of his memory. It was a sight that would stay with him for the entirety of his life, a searing brand that would haunt him till the end of his days.
In the centre of the smouldering remains of Little Willow was a great mound of corpses. Crows and ravens decorated the macabre pile pecking at bodies and faces he was all to familiar with. Each face was a face he had grown up with, faces that were now twisted into agonisingly pained expressions. Most had dried tear marks running down their faces, horror was still clearly reflected in their cold murky unseeing eyes.
Old Gareth whom used to tell him the grandest tales of immortals and gods lay face upwards upon the pile. The right side of his face had been viciously cleaved at the cheek, his entire lower jaw was just attached at the left side and a raven pecked and pulled at his long tongue that hung free from the open right side of his face. Boric the wise old farmer who had taught Jasper the names of the months and the corresponding stages of grain growth lay face up at the top of the pile, his legs and head dangled downwards. Three rusty decrepit pitchforks proudly stood erect from his, pierced into his stomach. Three crows cawed amongst themselves atop the handles of each fork. Eric the loud innocent child who had been beginning to turn into a fine young farming man lay amongst the pile face down atop his own entrails. His bright blonde hair was dyed a filthy rusty red by his own crusted blood.
Shuddering sobs shook Jasper as his blurred teary eyes slowly travelled from familiar face to familiar face trying to remember each of their last expressions accurately, burning the fear, horror and sorrow he saw conveyed deep into his mind. Knowing it was pointless but listening to the tiny voice named hope that whispered just what if inside of him Jasper summoned two threads of energy upwards to enhance his distraught vision. His bloodshot eyes shimmered a moment before turning from hazel to a misted opaque. Looking at the mound in new light nearly turned his stomach out once again as he became aware of all the insect life amongst the dead mound that was the population of Little Willow.
Abruptly without warning Jasper flew forward. Like an arrow from a bow he quickly bolted from his hands and knees scrambling forwards to the left side of the pile of dead. One moment he was upon his hands and knees on the black dusty floor the next he was protectively crouched over a dead woman. A burning blaze of hope and joy swirled within his grey misted eyes. The corpse he hunkered over was sat upright against the dead behind her. Across the breadth of her neck was a vicious red gash, her opened throat had stained her green blouse crimson. Jasper knew the woman as Janice when she had lived. Janice's corpse had its slightly stiff arms wrapped about a large bundle that sat upon her lap. The bundle was wrapped in a white cloth that was stained with numerous flecks of crimson.
Trembling and shaking Jasper reached out and prised the large bundle from Janice's tight death grip. Even in death a mother was hesitant to let go. Taking the large bundle into his arms he removed the white outer cloth to expose a large wicker basket with a lid. It was from within this basket that Jasper’s murky eyes saw two bright little light sources, each one composed of nine glowing dots.
Tears still freely streamed down his cheeks whilst his hands trembled violently. Jasper delicately lifted the lid of the basket and peered inside. He found a pair of quietly sleeping year old twins, both of whom had dried tear marks staining their little chubby faces whilst their eyes were puffy and a glaring red. Unsurprisingly it looked as if the pair had cried themselves asleep within the basket that was embraced by their dead mother. Tears cascaded in an unbroken stream from Jasper’s murky grey eyes as he cherished the glow of light the twins radiated, slightly illuminating his current surroundings that were so so dark.
Closing the baskets lid he pulled together a margin of decorum, the twins desperately needed attention and care. Breathing deeply through his nose he tried to stop the shuddering of his chest and flow of his salty tears. However as his eyes alighted upon a head that poked out from the rest of the bodies just above Janice's corpse his body sagged to the cold hard ground again. He couldn't see the face of the body. All that was visible to him was a bloodied well knitted bonnet that the corpse wore.The decorum he had just been trying to muster together completely collapsed under the heavy weight of a woeful sorrow and grief.
A lone haggard howl sung out from the ruins of Little Willow raising flocks of carrion birds into the blue sunny skies. It continued for a moment before it crackled and died away. The din of two babies bawling rose up to replace it.
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Julius Calendar 899
Month Of The Birthed Lamb 22nd
Jasper Valour finds Little Willow incinerated and its population murdered
From the mound of dead he retrieves a pair of twins
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