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<blockquote data-quote="Delemental" data-source="post: 4930517" data-attributes="member: 5203"><p>After Ghost had explained what he had seen at the barbarian camp, Ayama decided that questioning the captured shaman could not wait for morning. Rutendo went to wake their own shamans and request the intervention of the earth spirits; a few hours later, the snakeman was safely contained within a conical pit in the earth.</p><p></p><p> Ayama knelt at the edge of the pit and called down to the prisoner until she heard him stir awake. “Do you understand me?” she said in Wood-Tongue, hoping that the shaman might be more likely to know languages other than the barbarian’s native tongue. As before, Ghost hung back to translate the conversation for Zanka and Kaliel.</p><p></p><p> There was a silence, and then in a low, sibilant hiss, she heard, “I sspeak your ssoft tongue, human.”</p><p></p><p> “I apologize for the manner in which you were brought here,” she said. “But it was necessary to speak with you, and we felt it was unlikely you would agree to a parlay. We do not intend you any further harm. Now, I believe you are searching for something, correct?”</p><p></p><p> “We are,” the shaman spat. “I assume we sseek the very village I am now insside.”</p><p></p><p> “I am going to propose a theory to you,” Ayama said. “Your people suffer from a strange illness. Those who perish from it rise again as zombies. Is this accurate?” When no reply was forthcoming, she continued. “We have encountered this plague before, and it is likely that we can cure it. In return, we ask that you cease your attacks and attempts to destroy the forest. The god who oversees this forest would be most appreciative of this.”</p><p></p><p> “I do not care what your ssoft woodland god wantss,” the shaman hissed. “I lissten only to my god.”</p><p></p><p> “Then I suggest that you also listen to me,” Ayama said. “For if you and your people continue in your actions, I will depart, and the knowledge of the cure for this plague resides only within my mind.”</p><p></p><p> Ayama heard the snakeman twisting around inside the pit. Eventually, she saw him stand and approach the narrow opening of the pit. The light from the nearby torches reflected in his black eyes.</p><p></p><p> “Can you cure a god?”</p><p></p><p> “I have never seen a god fall ill,” Ayama admitted.</p><p></p><p> “I fear ourss may be,” the shaman admitted. “Neck-on-Neck has been ssending us sstrange words. Sometimes he ssays ‘sseek’, and other times ‘desstroy’. But he iss our god, and we musst lissten to him.”</p><p></p><p> “Do you commune with him directly, or through prayer?” Ayama asked.</p><p></p><p> “We carry his sshrine with uss. He speakss to us through it.”</p><p></p><p> “Obviously, it is in our best interest to help you cure this plague. If this is done, then you no longer have reason to be searching for Petgrana, or to be destroying the forest or its spirits. And then everyone gets to live. As a gesture of mutual faith, would you allow me to examine the shrine?”</p><p></p><p> The shaman hissed quietly for a moment, then said, “You would do this at your own rissk. I do not control my god.”</p><p></p><p> “Of course not,” Ayama said. “I am more concerned of your ability to control his worshippers. I cannot heal when buried under a horde of warriors.”</p><p></p><p> For a long time, there was no reply. “Do you doubt my ability?” Ayama asked.</p><p></p><p> “You have only wordss,” came the reply.</p><p></p><p> In response, Ayama rose off her knees and laid down upon the ground next to the hole in the ground, reaching in one arm as far as she could. “Touch my hand,” she said. When she felt the feather-light touch of the snakeman’s forked tongue on her fingers, she released some of her Essence, flowing into the shaman to ease the pain of his wounds.</p><p></p><p> “An impressive trick,” the shaman said as Ayama withdrew her hand. “But it iss no cure.”</p><p></p><p> “Ayama,” Ghost said, “perhaps we could make some sort of arrangement with this shaman for him to bring a few of his people who have the plague to an agreed meeting place, where you can treat them and prove your word is good.”</p><p></p><p> Ayama made this offer to the shaman, but the snakeman was just as dismissive of this as before. When it became clear that he was finished speaking, Ayama made one final statement.</p><p></p><p> “You will be our guest for a short while longer. When you leave here, I will present you with a gift; enough plague cure to treat one person. What you do with this gift is your choice.”</p><p></p><p> The four Chosen walked away, and gathered again in Ayama’s home.</p><p></p><p> “It seems I must try and manufacture more of the medicine that cured the plague in Chrysanthemum,” Ayama said. “But it will take some time. The reagents that I used the first time were items native to the North; I will have to see if I can find plants and minerals with analogous properties here.”</p><p></p><p> “Are we even certain that what this shaman says is true?” Zanka asked. “I have never heard of a god being sick. It could simply be that this particular shaman is afflicted with madness.”</p><p></p><p> “From what I have been told by Chief Branch-Shaker,” Ayama said, “Neck-on-Neck is a snake god, and was known as a totem of wisdom, not aggression. The snake tribes used to trade mostly in medicinal herbs. It is unusual for him to be inciting his people to such violence; a god who does not stay true to its aspect loses power. There is something… odd about the shaman, but as far as I can determine he is not ill.”</p><p></p><p> “If you truly wish to study this snake god’s shrine…” Ghost began.</p><p></p><p> “I would appreciate it if you did not try to steal the shrine of a god for the time being, Ghost,” Ayama said, cutting him off. Then she sighed. “Regardless of the circumstances, these tribes have threatened my village and the god who watches over it. As much as I would like to spare them from suffering, if they or their god are too proud to accept help when it is offered, there is nothing I can do.”</p><p></p><p> “And there is the question of whether it was the god who fell ill and affected his worshippers,” Kaliel said, “or if the plague afflicting the tribe has influenced the god.”</p><p></p><p> “Would Sunlight Pierces the Canopy know the answer?” Zanka asked.</p><p></p><p> “Unfortunately,” Ayama said, “Sunlight by his nature is deceptive, and enjoys his secrets. I cannot promise that he would be willing to share that information, even under the circumstances.” The Zenith thought for a moment, and then brightened. “However, you are very persuasive, Zanka. You may be able to convince him.”</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">۞</p><p></p><p> The next morning, in the pre-dawn gloom, the acolytes and priestesses gathered at the shrine of Sunlight Pierces the Canopy for their daily morning observances. Today, however, they were met at the door by Rutendo, who informed them that one of the Chosen Ones wished a private audience with their god this morning. Nodding in understanding , they withdrew.</p><p></p><p> Inside the shrine, Zanka knelt quietly. She was dressed in a few layers of diaphanous silks, her silvery-blonde hair was bound up and decorated with gold and jewels, and she had anointed herself with the barest touch of a local fragrant oil, just enough to leave a slight tantalizing sheen at the nape of her neck and between her breasts.</p><p></p><p> The shrine itself was built of wood, like all the other buildings in the town. It stood near the center of town, with the altar placed on the western wall. The roof of the shrine had been loosely woven from living branches, so that light could shine through. When dawn rose, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the leafy roof overhead, illuminating the altar. A slight breeze arose inside the shrine, and motes of golden light danced in the air. Mirrors arranged around the shrine caught the incoming rays, magnifying and spreading their light throughout the room, leaving no shadows. As the light filled the room, Zanka began to dance.</p><p></p><p> Within minutes, Zanka felt a presence in the room with her, following her movements. Zanka allowed her essence to flow through her body, augmenting her movements and flowing out into the room. Soon the light in the chamber grew brighter as the Eclipse added her own illumination to that of the morning sun. She continued her dance, and then felt the touch of a partner. She opened her eyes to see that Sunlight Pierces the Canopy had manifested himself, and was now joined in the dance with her. His flesh was composed of leaves, but they did not cover him completely; here and there she could see through to the branches underneath, giving structure to his form. Golden light also shone out of those spaces. His hair, composed of forest mosses, was wrapped tightly about his head. He looked quite tall at first, but as they moved about the shrine she saw that his stature matched hers.</p><p></p><p> “I had expected to see my priestesses as usual this morning,” Sunlight said, smiling. “I must say I enjoy this more.”</p><p></p><p> “I only wished to acknowledge the hospitality you and the people here have shown me, and thank you for your protection of this town,” she replied.</p><p></p><p> “How you acknowledge the people is between you and they,” Sunlight said. “How you offer thanks to me, however, is between us. And, here we are.”</p><p></p><p> “Here we are,” Zanka agreed.</p><p></p><p> “So,” Sunlight said, “Ayama is usually more direct when she wants something from me. But in appreciation for her choice in this novel approach, I will be generous. What is it you came here for?”</p><p></p><p> “As you know,” Zanka said as they danced, “your forest has been harassed recently by raiders from the East. We have recently learned that their motivation may be a plague that has afflicted them. We have captured and questioned one of their shamans, who tells us that their god himself has fallen ill. In order to address this, Ayama needs to know if it truly is possible for a god to contract a disease, and how this might affect his worshippers.”</p><p></p><p> “I shall have to thank Ayama for this rather unique method of questioning at some time in the future,” Sunlight said. He moved in closer until he was pressing against Zanka; despite the god’s appearance, his touch was soft and yielding, not unlike mortal flesh, though he radiated a warmth that no mere mortal could. Zanka permitted a flush to rise in her cheeks, though in this case it was more a matter of relaxing her own considerable self-control, rather than willing forth the affectation of a false response.</p><p></p><p> “Yes, a god, spirit, or elemental can fall ill,” Sunlight said softly. “A great many of us sickened and died during the Great Contagion. But no mere mortal ailment would fell a god, even a weak one. The physical form you see here before you is a construct of my will, not my natural state. It is certainly possible for me to be affected by a plague when I am manifest, but all I must do then is dismiss this body. The Great Contagion affected body, mind, and soul alike.”</p><p></p><p> “The shaman said that they have been receiving strange messages from their god,” Zanka said, as her fingertips traced along the curve of his spine from top to bottom. “Messages not in keeping with his usual philosophies.”</p><p></p><p> “He may have some disease of the spirit, then,” Sunlight said. “If this is so, it is troubling… and all the more reason to make certain that these tribes never reach my territory.”</p><p></p><p> “Would you be willing to assist Ayama in creating a cure?” Zanka asked, whispering into Sunlight’s ear.</p><p></p><p> “I am always willing to help my Chosen One,” he whispered back, his lips grazing her neck. “And her companions as well.”</p><p></p><p> “She was only concerned that your own nature might tempt you to be less than forthcoming with her,” Zanka said. “I convinced her to let me try and offer something more tempting to you.”</p><p></p><p> “I admit that Ayama knows me well. We all have our secrets, of course – I do not reveal all of mine, much as you do not reveal all of yours.”</p><p></p><p> “I have seen only sixteen summers,” Zanka said. “I do not know that I have many secrets that would interest anyone. I am certain, however, that I will create some in the years to come.”</p><p></p><p> “Perhaps we can begin this morning?” Sunlight suggested. He moved up against her again, and this time Zanka felt that the god’s manifestation of a mortal man’s form had been accurate in every detail. She could feel her own heat spreading from her loins, and her breasts swelled under the spirit’s gentle touch. Their lips met; he tasted of wildflower honey and spring rain.</p><p></p><p> “I can think of no better way to greet the new day,” she said to him her hands caressing his flesh. She realized that at some point in their dance the sheer garment she had worn had been discarded; she was aware she had as much part in that as had Sunlight Pierces the Canopy. As the god lowered Zanka atop his own altar, the interior of the shrine was filled with a near-blinding light, as neither felt the need for further restraint. </p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">۞</p><p> </p><p> In the rest of the town, the intense glow emanating from inside the shrine had not gone unnoticed. Knowing that one of the Chosen Ones had gone in to meet with Sunlight Pierces the Canopy, the people did their best not to gather outside, but the shrine was the subject of many long glances, especially when the air surrounding the shrine was surrounded with a dazzling display of multicolored ribbons of light.</p><p></p><p> A half hour passed before the glow faded, and a few minutes later the door opened, and Sunlight Pierces the Canopy strode out of the door, still physically manifest. The people of Petgrana, who had not seen their god walk among them for some time, rejoiced and surged forward to greet their god, who smiled and conversed with them like a benevolent father. A minute later, Zanka emerged from the shrine as well. She wore her silk dancing outfit, though her hair had fallen out of its coiffure, and she was still slightly flushed. On her way to the ice house, she crossed paths with Ghost.</p><p></p><p> “I had not expected that you would dance quite so enthusiastically for Sunlight,” he commented with a smile. “Neither you or Ayama seem to evince much interest in that particular style of performance.”</p><p></p><p> “I felt that I was unlikely to get a better offer,” Zanka replied coyly.</p><p></p><p> “Actually,” Ghost said as he walked away, “you already have. But you told me ‘no’.”</p><p></p><p> Sunlight Pierces the Canopy walked among the people for a full hour before he announced, “my children, it has been good to visit with you all, but there are matters I must attend to alongside the Chosen Ones.” As the crowd dispersed, Sunlight approached Ayama. “Let us see this shaman you have acquired,” he said.</p><p></p><p> Ayama led Sunlight to the pit where the snakeman was contained; Kaliel, Ghost, and Rutendo were already waiting there. The god looked down at the captive for only a few moments before he announced, “his spirit is sick.”</p><p></p><p> “Is that a byproduct of something wrong with his god,” Ayama asked, “or his own illness?”</p><p></p><p> “He is not infected with any normal disease,” Sunlight confirmed. “It is his connection with Neck-on-Neck that is infected.”</p><p></p><p> “That is most helpful,” Ayama said. She studied the shaman again, looking for signs of something she had missed, but at the same time invoked her power to see unmanifest spirits. She could now see the image of a snake totem surrounding the shaman, and the totem itself appeared deathly ill.</p><p></p><p> “I can see it now,” Ayama said. She then stepped back from the edge and turned to address Sunlight Pierces the Canopy. “There is a cure for this disease,” Ayama said, “we discovered it when a similar plague struck Kaliel’s home. Rutendo and I have been working on adapting the cure to use local reagents, but one crucial element is missing – the oil from a species of herring found only in the North. Without it, the cure can be created, and will work, but will lose a great deal of potency. However, the greater problem we face is that although I am confident I can cure the physical plague, I have never encountered a disease of the spirit before.”</p><p></p><p> “To be fair, such plagues are not common,” Sunlight said, “The last one known with that nature was the Great Contagion. This plague we face now shares some of the same properties of the Contagion, though fortunately this plague can apparently be treated. As you well know, no cure was ever found for the Great Contagion; it simply ceased to afflict Creation.”</p><p></p><p> There was a long silence before Ghost spoke. “Ayama, may I ask a question?”</p><p></p><p> “Of course, Ghost, you may always speak your mind with me,” she replied.</p><p></p><p> “Understand that this question is based upon my long and exhaustive minutes of study into herbology and medicinal lore,” he prefaced with a self-deprecating grin. “However, it occurs to me that the ingredients that come together to create the cure are based upon plants, minerals, and creatures in Creation, is that not correct?”</p><p></p><p> Ayama nodded, and Ghost continued. “We all know that everything in Creation has a spirit associated with it, from the smallest rock to the greatest city. Since you can combine these physical things together to create a physical medicine, is it possible to somehow draw upon the spiritual essence of these reagents, and combine those into a spiritual treatment?”</p><p></p><p> “What an interesting concept, Ghost,” Kaliel said.</p><p></p><p> “The theory has merit,” Ayama agreed. “You are not an unclever man, Ghost; in fact, at times you are too clever for your own good.”</p><p></p><p> “I agree,” said Sunlight Pierces the Canopy, and for the first time that day he was not smiling. “One day you will have to tell me how you came to possess that shirt.”</p><p></p><p> Ghost looked at the forest god, puzzled. Why would Sunlight care about the armor he had been gifted by Pearlescent Lotus Whispers? When no further challenged seemed to come forward from the god, Ghost dismissed the incident and returned his attention to the matter at hand.</p><p></p><p> “Tell me what ingredients you require to make your cure,” Sunlight said to Ayama. When she listed off the items she needed, he nodded. “A few of those items have small gods within my dominion,” he said. “They will be here within the hour. I can do nothing about this fish oil you mention – since the creature exists nowhere near my domain, I have no way of knowing what essential properties this fish possesses.”</p><p></p><p> “I can return to Lynnisbrook,” Kaliel stated, “and purchase what you need there.”</p><p></p><p> “A journey that will take six months at the best speeds,” Ghost said. “In six months nothing may remain of Petgrana but a charred, blackened wasteland. Why not seek the ingredient in one of the major cities of the East? You are certain to find it in Nexus. Greyfalls is even closer, and if I go I have the advantage of knowing people there.”</p><p></p><p> “We could also experiment,” Rutendo suggested.</p><p></p><p> “But to do that, we would need access to victims of the plague,” Ayama countered, “which we lack at the moment.”</p><p></p><p> “Perhaps we could attempt another foray into their camp,” Rutendo offered, “and capture some of the plague victims to be brought here. Given how lightly that part of their camp is guarded, according to Ghost, it should be fairly simple.”</p><p></p><p> “I will go,” Kaliel said. “I can use the grace of the Unconquered Sun to cause these tribesmen to fall under my sway, and then simply order them to return with me to Petgrana.”</p><p></p><p> “But you are certain to be tracked,” Ayama said. “I only need some of the tribesmen here, not all of them.”</p><p></p><p> “I will go with him,” Rutendo said. “I can cover his trail, and leave enough traps in our wake to discourage pursuit. By the time they escape that, we will be inside Sunlight’s boundaries and his powers will lead them away from us.”</p><p></p><p> After refining their plans, Kaliel, Rutendo and five scouts set out for the enemy camp. Meanwhile, Sunlight Pierces the Canopy approached Zanka again, and beckoned her to a private spot near his shrine. “I know that what you have given me this morning is a rare and unexpected gift,” he said to her, “and I will not have it be said that I am not giving and generous to those who are giving and generous to me. Therefore, I have decided to give you something equally rare and unexpected.” He reached out with one hand toward his shrine and seemed to pull a large scroll out of thin air. He handed the scroll to Zanka.</p><p></p><p> “May I ask what it is, or are you the type who prefers that the recipient opens their gifts first?”</p><p></p><p> “You may open it,” he said, “Though it may not hold any meaning for you yet.”</p><p></p><p> The scroll turned out to be truly massive; once unrolled, it had to be unfolded several times, and ended up being as wide as Zanka was tall. The large sheet of parchment bore the map of an enormous city; various streets and buildings were marked with the hieroglyphs of the Old Tongue. Looking over the map, she recognized one symbol on a large, vault-like building; the symbol of Kal Bax.</p><p></p><p> “I recognize this symbol,” Zanka said, pointing at the map, “but unfortunately the Old Tongue was not taught to us in the North.”</p><p></p><p> “Show it to your companions as well,” Sunlight said. “I look forward to the looks of surprise and delight on your faces as you discover this together.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Delemental, post: 4930517, member: 5203"] After Ghost had explained what he had seen at the barbarian camp, Ayama decided that questioning the captured shaman could not wait for morning. Rutendo went to wake their own shamans and request the intervention of the earth spirits; a few hours later, the snakeman was safely contained within a conical pit in the earth. Ayama knelt at the edge of the pit and called down to the prisoner until she heard him stir awake. “Do you understand me?” she said in Wood-Tongue, hoping that the shaman might be more likely to know languages other than the barbarian’s native tongue. As before, Ghost hung back to translate the conversation for Zanka and Kaliel. There was a silence, and then in a low, sibilant hiss, she heard, “I sspeak your ssoft tongue, human.” “I apologize for the manner in which you were brought here,” she said. “But it was necessary to speak with you, and we felt it was unlikely you would agree to a parlay. We do not intend you any further harm. Now, I believe you are searching for something, correct?” “We are,” the shaman spat. “I assume we sseek the very village I am now insside.” “I am going to propose a theory to you,” Ayama said. “Your people suffer from a strange illness. Those who perish from it rise again as zombies. Is this accurate?” When no reply was forthcoming, she continued. “We have encountered this plague before, and it is likely that we can cure it. In return, we ask that you cease your attacks and attempts to destroy the forest. The god who oversees this forest would be most appreciative of this.” “I do not care what your ssoft woodland god wantss,” the shaman hissed. “I lissten only to my god.” “Then I suggest that you also listen to me,” Ayama said. “For if you and your people continue in your actions, I will depart, and the knowledge of the cure for this plague resides only within my mind.” Ayama heard the snakeman twisting around inside the pit. Eventually, she saw him stand and approach the narrow opening of the pit. The light from the nearby torches reflected in his black eyes. “Can you cure a god?” “I have never seen a god fall ill,” Ayama admitted. “I fear ourss may be,” the shaman admitted. “Neck-on-Neck has been ssending us sstrange words. Sometimes he ssays ‘sseek’, and other times ‘desstroy’. But he iss our god, and we musst lissten to him.” “Do you commune with him directly, or through prayer?” Ayama asked. “We carry his sshrine with uss. He speakss to us through it.” “Obviously, it is in our best interest to help you cure this plague. If this is done, then you no longer have reason to be searching for Petgrana, or to be destroying the forest or its spirits. And then everyone gets to live. As a gesture of mutual faith, would you allow me to examine the shrine?” The shaman hissed quietly for a moment, then said, “You would do this at your own rissk. I do not control my god.” “Of course not,” Ayama said. “I am more concerned of your ability to control his worshippers. I cannot heal when buried under a horde of warriors.” For a long time, there was no reply. “Do you doubt my ability?” Ayama asked. “You have only wordss,” came the reply. In response, Ayama rose off her knees and laid down upon the ground next to the hole in the ground, reaching in one arm as far as she could. “Touch my hand,” she said. When she felt the feather-light touch of the snakeman’s forked tongue on her fingers, she released some of her Essence, flowing into the shaman to ease the pain of his wounds. “An impressive trick,” the shaman said as Ayama withdrew her hand. “But it iss no cure.” “Ayama,” Ghost said, “perhaps we could make some sort of arrangement with this shaman for him to bring a few of his people who have the plague to an agreed meeting place, where you can treat them and prove your word is good.” Ayama made this offer to the shaman, but the snakeman was just as dismissive of this as before. When it became clear that he was finished speaking, Ayama made one final statement. “You will be our guest for a short while longer. When you leave here, I will present you with a gift; enough plague cure to treat one person. What you do with this gift is your choice.” The four Chosen walked away, and gathered again in Ayama’s home. “It seems I must try and manufacture more of the medicine that cured the plague in Chrysanthemum,” Ayama said. “But it will take some time. The reagents that I used the first time were items native to the North; I will have to see if I can find plants and minerals with analogous properties here.” “Are we even certain that what this shaman says is true?” Zanka asked. “I have never heard of a god being sick. It could simply be that this particular shaman is afflicted with madness.” “From what I have been told by Chief Branch-Shaker,” Ayama said, “Neck-on-Neck is a snake god, and was known as a totem of wisdom, not aggression. The snake tribes used to trade mostly in medicinal herbs. It is unusual for him to be inciting his people to such violence; a god who does not stay true to its aspect loses power. There is something… odd about the shaman, but as far as I can determine he is not ill.” “If you truly wish to study this snake god’s shrine…” Ghost began. “I would appreciate it if you did not try to steal the shrine of a god for the time being, Ghost,” Ayama said, cutting him off. Then she sighed. “Regardless of the circumstances, these tribes have threatened my village and the god who watches over it. As much as I would like to spare them from suffering, if they or their god are too proud to accept help when it is offered, there is nothing I can do.” “And there is the question of whether it was the god who fell ill and affected his worshippers,” Kaliel said, “or if the plague afflicting the tribe has influenced the god.” “Would Sunlight Pierces the Canopy know the answer?” Zanka asked. “Unfortunately,” Ayama said, “Sunlight by his nature is deceptive, and enjoys his secrets. I cannot promise that he would be willing to share that information, even under the circumstances.” The Zenith thought for a moment, and then brightened. “However, you are very persuasive, Zanka. You may be able to convince him.” [center]۞[/center] The next morning, in the pre-dawn gloom, the acolytes and priestesses gathered at the shrine of Sunlight Pierces the Canopy for their daily morning observances. Today, however, they were met at the door by Rutendo, who informed them that one of the Chosen Ones wished a private audience with their god this morning. Nodding in understanding , they withdrew. Inside the shrine, Zanka knelt quietly. She was dressed in a few layers of diaphanous silks, her silvery-blonde hair was bound up and decorated with gold and jewels, and she had anointed herself with the barest touch of a local fragrant oil, just enough to leave a slight tantalizing sheen at the nape of her neck and between her breasts. The shrine itself was built of wood, like all the other buildings in the town. It stood near the center of town, with the altar placed on the western wall. The roof of the shrine had been loosely woven from living branches, so that light could shine through. When dawn rose, the first rays of sunlight filtered through the leafy roof overhead, illuminating the altar. A slight breeze arose inside the shrine, and motes of golden light danced in the air. Mirrors arranged around the shrine caught the incoming rays, magnifying and spreading their light throughout the room, leaving no shadows. As the light filled the room, Zanka began to dance. Within minutes, Zanka felt a presence in the room with her, following her movements. Zanka allowed her essence to flow through her body, augmenting her movements and flowing out into the room. Soon the light in the chamber grew brighter as the Eclipse added her own illumination to that of the morning sun. She continued her dance, and then felt the touch of a partner. She opened her eyes to see that Sunlight Pierces the Canopy had manifested himself, and was now joined in the dance with her. His flesh was composed of leaves, but they did not cover him completely; here and there she could see through to the branches underneath, giving structure to his form. Golden light also shone out of those spaces. His hair, composed of forest mosses, was wrapped tightly about his head. He looked quite tall at first, but as they moved about the shrine she saw that his stature matched hers. “I had expected to see my priestesses as usual this morning,” Sunlight said, smiling. “I must say I enjoy this more.” “I only wished to acknowledge the hospitality you and the people here have shown me, and thank you for your protection of this town,” she replied. “How you acknowledge the people is between you and they,” Sunlight said. “How you offer thanks to me, however, is between us. And, here we are.” “Here we are,” Zanka agreed. “So,” Sunlight said, “Ayama is usually more direct when she wants something from me. But in appreciation for her choice in this novel approach, I will be generous. What is it you came here for?” “As you know,” Zanka said as they danced, “your forest has been harassed recently by raiders from the East. We have recently learned that their motivation may be a plague that has afflicted them. We have captured and questioned one of their shamans, who tells us that their god himself has fallen ill. In order to address this, Ayama needs to know if it truly is possible for a god to contract a disease, and how this might affect his worshippers.” “I shall have to thank Ayama for this rather unique method of questioning at some time in the future,” Sunlight said. He moved in closer until he was pressing against Zanka; despite the god’s appearance, his touch was soft and yielding, not unlike mortal flesh, though he radiated a warmth that no mere mortal could. Zanka permitted a flush to rise in her cheeks, though in this case it was more a matter of relaxing her own considerable self-control, rather than willing forth the affectation of a false response. “Yes, a god, spirit, or elemental can fall ill,” Sunlight said softly. “A great many of us sickened and died during the Great Contagion. But no mere mortal ailment would fell a god, even a weak one. The physical form you see here before you is a construct of my will, not my natural state. It is certainly possible for me to be affected by a plague when I am manifest, but all I must do then is dismiss this body. The Great Contagion affected body, mind, and soul alike.” “The shaman said that they have been receiving strange messages from their god,” Zanka said, as her fingertips traced along the curve of his spine from top to bottom. “Messages not in keeping with his usual philosophies.” “He may have some disease of the spirit, then,” Sunlight said. “If this is so, it is troubling… and all the more reason to make certain that these tribes never reach my territory.” “Would you be willing to assist Ayama in creating a cure?” Zanka asked, whispering into Sunlight’s ear. “I am always willing to help my Chosen One,” he whispered back, his lips grazing her neck. “And her companions as well.” “She was only concerned that your own nature might tempt you to be less than forthcoming with her,” Zanka said. “I convinced her to let me try and offer something more tempting to you.” “I admit that Ayama knows me well. We all have our secrets, of course – I do not reveal all of mine, much as you do not reveal all of yours.” “I have seen only sixteen summers,” Zanka said. “I do not know that I have many secrets that would interest anyone. I am certain, however, that I will create some in the years to come.” “Perhaps we can begin this morning?” Sunlight suggested. He moved up against her again, and this time Zanka felt that the god’s manifestation of a mortal man’s form had been accurate in every detail. She could feel her own heat spreading from her loins, and her breasts swelled under the spirit’s gentle touch. Their lips met; he tasted of wildflower honey and spring rain. “I can think of no better way to greet the new day,” she said to him her hands caressing his flesh. She realized that at some point in their dance the sheer garment she had worn had been discarded; she was aware she had as much part in that as had Sunlight Pierces the Canopy. As the god lowered Zanka atop his own altar, the interior of the shrine was filled with a near-blinding light, as neither felt the need for further restraint. [center]۞[/center] In the rest of the town, the intense glow emanating from inside the shrine had not gone unnoticed. Knowing that one of the Chosen Ones had gone in to meet with Sunlight Pierces the Canopy, the people did their best not to gather outside, but the shrine was the subject of many long glances, especially when the air surrounding the shrine was surrounded with a dazzling display of multicolored ribbons of light. A half hour passed before the glow faded, and a few minutes later the door opened, and Sunlight Pierces the Canopy strode out of the door, still physically manifest. The people of Petgrana, who had not seen their god walk among them for some time, rejoiced and surged forward to greet their god, who smiled and conversed with them like a benevolent father. A minute later, Zanka emerged from the shrine as well. She wore her silk dancing outfit, though her hair had fallen out of its coiffure, and she was still slightly flushed. On her way to the ice house, she crossed paths with Ghost. “I had not expected that you would dance quite so enthusiastically for Sunlight,” he commented with a smile. “Neither you or Ayama seem to evince much interest in that particular style of performance.” “I felt that I was unlikely to get a better offer,” Zanka replied coyly. “Actually,” Ghost said as he walked away, “you already have. But you told me ‘no’.” Sunlight Pierces the Canopy walked among the people for a full hour before he announced, “my children, it has been good to visit with you all, but there are matters I must attend to alongside the Chosen Ones.” As the crowd dispersed, Sunlight approached Ayama. “Let us see this shaman you have acquired,” he said. Ayama led Sunlight to the pit where the snakeman was contained; Kaliel, Ghost, and Rutendo were already waiting there. The god looked down at the captive for only a few moments before he announced, “his spirit is sick.” “Is that a byproduct of something wrong with his god,” Ayama asked, “or his own illness?” “He is not infected with any normal disease,” Sunlight confirmed. “It is his connection with Neck-on-Neck that is infected.” “That is most helpful,” Ayama said. She studied the shaman again, looking for signs of something she had missed, but at the same time invoked her power to see unmanifest spirits. She could now see the image of a snake totem surrounding the shaman, and the totem itself appeared deathly ill. “I can see it now,” Ayama said. She then stepped back from the edge and turned to address Sunlight Pierces the Canopy. “There is a cure for this disease,” Ayama said, “we discovered it when a similar plague struck Kaliel’s home. Rutendo and I have been working on adapting the cure to use local reagents, but one crucial element is missing – the oil from a species of herring found only in the North. Without it, the cure can be created, and will work, but will lose a great deal of potency. However, the greater problem we face is that although I am confident I can cure the physical plague, I have never encountered a disease of the spirit before.” “To be fair, such plagues are not common,” Sunlight said, “The last one known with that nature was the Great Contagion. This plague we face now shares some of the same properties of the Contagion, though fortunately this plague can apparently be treated. As you well know, no cure was ever found for the Great Contagion; it simply ceased to afflict Creation.” There was a long silence before Ghost spoke. “Ayama, may I ask a question?” “Of course, Ghost, you may always speak your mind with me,” she replied. “Understand that this question is based upon my long and exhaustive minutes of study into herbology and medicinal lore,” he prefaced with a self-deprecating grin. “However, it occurs to me that the ingredients that come together to create the cure are based upon plants, minerals, and creatures in Creation, is that not correct?” Ayama nodded, and Ghost continued. “We all know that everything in Creation has a spirit associated with it, from the smallest rock to the greatest city. Since you can combine these physical things together to create a physical medicine, is it possible to somehow draw upon the spiritual essence of these reagents, and combine those into a spiritual treatment?” “What an interesting concept, Ghost,” Kaliel said. “The theory has merit,” Ayama agreed. “You are not an unclever man, Ghost; in fact, at times you are too clever for your own good.” “I agree,” said Sunlight Pierces the Canopy, and for the first time that day he was not smiling. “One day you will have to tell me how you came to possess that shirt.” Ghost looked at the forest god, puzzled. Why would Sunlight care about the armor he had been gifted by Pearlescent Lotus Whispers? When no further challenged seemed to come forward from the god, Ghost dismissed the incident and returned his attention to the matter at hand. “Tell me what ingredients you require to make your cure,” Sunlight said to Ayama. When she listed off the items she needed, he nodded. “A few of those items have small gods within my dominion,” he said. “They will be here within the hour. I can do nothing about this fish oil you mention – since the creature exists nowhere near my domain, I have no way of knowing what essential properties this fish possesses.” “I can return to Lynnisbrook,” Kaliel stated, “and purchase what you need there.” “A journey that will take six months at the best speeds,” Ghost said. “In six months nothing may remain of Petgrana but a charred, blackened wasteland. Why not seek the ingredient in one of the major cities of the East? You are certain to find it in Nexus. Greyfalls is even closer, and if I go I have the advantage of knowing people there.” “We could also experiment,” Rutendo suggested. “But to do that, we would need access to victims of the plague,” Ayama countered, “which we lack at the moment.” “Perhaps we could attempt another foray into their camp,” Rutendo offered, “and capture some of the plague victims to be brought here. Given how lightly that part of their camp is guarded, according to Ghost, it should be fairly simple.” “I will go,” Kaliel said. “I can use the grace of the Unconquered Sun to cause these tribesmen to fall under my sway, and then simply order them to return with me to Petgrana.” “But you are certain to be tracked,” Ayama said. “I only need some of the tribesmen here, not all of them.” “I will go with him,” Rutendo said. “I can cover his trail, and leave enough traps in our wake to discourage pursuit. By the time they escape that, we will be inside Sunlight’s boundaries and his powers will lead them away from us.” After refining their plans, Kaliel, Rutendo and five scouts set out for the enemy camp. Meanwhile, Sunlight Pierces the Canopy approached Zanka again, and beckoned her to a private spot near his shrine. “I know that what you have given me this morning is a rare and unexpected gift,” he said to her, “and I will not have it be said that I am not giving and generous to those who are giving and generous to me. Therefore, I have decided to give you something equally rare and unexpected.” He reached out with one hand toward his shrine and seemed to pull a large scroll out of thin air. He handed the scroll to Zanka. “May I ask what it is, or are you the type who prefers that the recipient opens their gifts first?” “You may open it,” he said, “Though it may not hold any meaning for you yet.” The scroll turned out to be truly massive; once unrolled, it had to be unfolded several times, and ended up being as wide as Zanka was tall. The large sheet of parchment bore the map of an enormous city; various streets and buildings were marked with the hieroglyphs of the Old Tongue. Looking over the map, she recognized one symbol on a large, vault-like building; the symbol of Kal Bax. “I recognize this symbol,” Zanka said, pointing at the map, “but unfortunately the Old Tongue was not taught to us in the North.” “Show it to your companions as well,” Sunlight said. “I look forward to the looks of surprise and delight on your faces as you discover this together.” [/QUOTE]
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[Exalted 2e] Chosen of the Second Age
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