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Active Dera Qurk'qa Kam Hakiaz
- Thread starter Kamaoe
- Start date
Kamaoe
Legend
I just copy elz. it's a cycle.
Kamaoe
Legend
After the events of Journey Back to the Island, she has been returning to the Island and assisting the Half-spawn in rebuilding and acclimating to life.
Kamaoe
Legend
Kamaoe
Legend
Updated
The Cartoon Witch
Lord of Altera
Where's Kyri?
Kamaoe
Legend
In our thoughts and prayers
The Cartoon Witch
Lord of Altera
Wow! XD
BoredBrit
Bored Brit
BoredBritishGuy
Legend
update uriel relation.
Kamaoe
Legend
I'll update during the week. The relations are neglected.
Kamaoe
Legend
Small updates, poke for relations. (I'll have to update them soon...)
Wanted to write up Kam's backstory, so I started with the most recent non-rp'd out bit. Why she ended up leaving the sorrows.
I'm not super good at writing, but practice.
It was raining. A dreary day for dark work. Kam's hand tightened on the handle of the dagger, looking up into the sky, sheathing the blade. She took a deep breath and moved into the tent before. The last tent. Inside, the elderly woman on her bedroll sat up, and looked at her from beneath a layer of furs.
"Are we leaving? I don't hear anyone." The woman looks confused. Kam's brow furrows, and she shakes her head.
"The rest of the tribe left already, mother. We will be staying until they find passage through the undead." Kam sits beside the woman, and lifts the furs. A rotting smell hits her in the face, as she reveals the bandaged legs.
"I told you not to call me that. I'm not nearly old enough to be your mother." Kam looks into the woman's piercing green eyes. Her aged face in marked contrast with her words.
"As you say, Hol. We need to change these though, the rot will spread if we do not." Hol snorts, and nods. Letting Kam change her bandages into clean ones. Kam takes a comb, and begins to comb the out her mother's hair. She speaks to her mother, eyes misty.
"Do you remember when you would comb my hair like this? You threatened to cut it all off, it took so long to comb..." Hol shrugs, her expression that of a pensive child.
"I. . . don't remember that... I don't remember you. You just come around. I want to see my father. I want my mother." Kam's hand paused, then she continues combing. When next she speaks, her voice is quiet.
". . .The tribe will be back soon. They'll be back soon..." She pulls Hol's hair into a formal hairstyle.
"What's this? What's the occasion?" Hol asks, looking back at Kam, confused.
"You're going to go somewhere soon. Somewhere none can follow." Hol quirks an eyebrow at this, one corner of her wrinkled mouth pulling downwards.
"I don't understand."
"It will be clear soon enough. When they come back, you'll be ready. Nice and clean." Kam assures her, and pulls her to lie back down. Hol reluctantly lays back at Kam's urging.
"Is it nice? Where I'm going?" Hol looks up to Kam, seeking some kind of assurance that everything will be okay. Kam nods.
"It will be wonderful. You will see gran- your mother and father there. They are waiting for you." Kam places a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. She compresses her lips, her mother felt so thin, solidity fading with age. As though if she squeezed to hard, she'd break into pieces like pottery.
"You should rest. It will be a while." Kam's voice finally manages to strain out. Hol looks up to her, concentrating.
"Who are you?" Kam's eyes widen. It had been a while since a regression like this. She tried to smile, to be reassuring.
"I am Kam, I am your daughter." Hol jerks away from Kam's touch.
"No, you're not! I want my mother! I want my father!" She bolts upright, trying to rise from her bedroll. Her rotting legs don't take her far. Hol screams, terrified. Kam reaches out to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Calm down, I can explain-" Hol strikes her, and beats at her to make her back away. Hol thrashes, and cries as a child does. Kam watches her, her expression going slack, shoulders slumping. Her heart breaks in her chest, as she watches her mother lose herself further. Kam lets Hol tire herself out. It doesn't take long. She didn't have much energy now. Once she's laying on the ground, Kam moves and puts her back to bed, replacing her bandages. As she finishes, she feels a gentle touch on her hand. She looks to Hol, and sees her mother looking back at her.
"Please, end this." Kam starts to feel hope.
"But, mother, you might get better-" Hol holds up a hand, and shakes her head.
"We both know there is no getting better from this. Please, child. End this." Hol looks to Kam, pleadingly. Kam's face crumples, but she nods.
"Lay down." Hol obliges her, laying flat on her back. Kam moves, and puts Hol's head in her lap, stroking the woman's hair. She hums a lullaby, and Hol's eyes slip closed. Kam squeezes her eyes shut, and unsheathes the dagger. Holding it to her mother's temple. Hol's eyes open one last time, and look at Kam.
"Who are you?" With a quick push, Kam ends her mother's life, culling the weakest member from the tribe. She puts the dagger down, covering her eyes. Tears burned her eyes, but they did not fall. She presses the ball of her hand into her eyes, and rises. She sets about readying her mother.
Sitting outside, she waits. The stench of the corpse within has grown, and she can't stay in with it anymore. Kam makes the decision to lay her mother to rest without the rest of the tribe. She lowers her mother into the grave, and piles the stones on the grave. She says the rites to pass the soul into the next world, hoping for her mother to make it safely to Gwamith. She looks at the overgrown pathway, hoping to see any sign of her tribe coming back. She is disappointed each time she musters up hope.
After another week of waiting she cannot wait anymore. Surely they would be at the meeting place. She will join them. Join what's left of her family. Of her people. She packs up her tent, the last of her possessions, and seals the gravesite. Kam sets out, nursing one last flame of hope in her heart.
Three days later, she crests the last ridgeline. To the valley where the last tribes were supposed to meet up. From her vantage point, she looks down upon the collected camp, but soon furrows her brows. There were no fires going, no sounds of animals anywhere in the valley. The hairs on the back of Kam's neck stood on end, and a fear gripped her. Slowly, she moves down the side of the valley, forcing herself to take her time.
Arriving to the edge of the camp, she finds a banner she recognizes, one of the other clans from her tribe. Moving within, she finds the plain signs of disturbances. Dirt shifted, blood spilled, and weapons dropped. Her pace picks up, and she hurries through the camp, looking for any signs of life.
Up ahead she spies a large figure. Standing still, as though waiting. Someone she doesn't know. Kam steps toward them, a hand shaking as she reaches out. The smell hit her nostrils first. Then she saw the rips in clothing, and through those, the decaying flesh. Hope left her. Completely and utterly. All that was left was to not turn into one of these herself. As she tried to back away, the undead Eark turned and saw her. It lunged forward, reaching for her. Kam lifted the old scimitar she had, and broke the blade off in the head of the thing. With a few more steps, it fell. But not before letting out a gurgling, splitting scream. Kam didn't wait to see what that cry would summon. Shame filled her as she ran away from the walking dead of the last of her people. She would remedy this. Somehow.
Having reached a lofty spot where she would be able to see anything approaching, Kam settled to sit. She took out a bow and counted her arrows. She had never been a good shot, but with these mindless husks, she didn't have to be perfect. It took longer than she would've liked to take them all down. She had to go down too many times. Recover arrows too many times. Flush undead out of tents too many times. But it was done. She laid them to rest in that valley. Only after being sure she was completely alone, did she cry for the first time in her adult life. Tears falling for her mother. For her tribe. For her people. She was alone for the first time in her life. The kind of lonliness that falls upon the last member of a race settled on her shoulders. She swore there, she would do anything to bring back her people. Do any amount of work. Sacrifice anything of herself that she could. Despite her promise to herself, she felt utterly hopeless.
She wandered, eventually finding a ship from the Sorrows to the Northern Kingdoms. She boarded it, her common poor. But she would find salvation somewhere. She just had to hunt it down.
Wanted to write up Kam's backstory, so I started with the most recent non-rp'd out bit. Why she ended up leaving the sorrows.
I'm not super good at writing, but practice.
It was raining. A dreary day for dark work. Kam's hand tightened on the handle of the dagger, looking up into the sky, sheathing the blade. She took a deep breath and moved into the tent before. The last tent. Inside, the elderly woman on her bedroll sat up, and looked at her from beneath a layer of furs.
"Are we leaving? I don't hear anyone." The woman looks confused. Kam's brow furrows, and she shakes her head.
"The rest of the tribe left already, mother. We will be staying until they find passage through the undead." Kam sits beside the woman, and lifts the furs. A rotting smell hits her in the face, as she reveals the bandaged legs.
"I told you not to call me that. I'm not nearly old enough to be your mother." Kam looks into the woman's piercing green eyes. Her aged face in marked contrast with her words.
"As you say, Hol. We need to change these though, the rot will spread if we do not." Hol snorts, and nods. Letting Kam change her bandages into clean ones. Kam takes a comb, and begins to comb the out her mother's hair. She speaks to her mother, eyes misty.
"Do you remember when you would comb my hair like this? You threatened to cut it all off, it took so long to comb..." Hol shrugs, her expression that of a pensive child.
"I. . . don't remember that... I don't remember you. You just come around. I want to see my father. I want my mother." Kam's hand paused, then she continues combing. When next she speaks, her voice is quiet.
". . .The tribe will be back soon. They'll be back soon..." She pulls Hol's hair into a formal hairstyle.
"What's this? What's the occasion?" Hol asks, looking back at Kam, confused.
"You're going to go somewhere soon. Somewhere none can follow." Hol quirks an eyebrow at this, one corner of her wrinkled mouth pulling downwards.
"I don't understand."
"It will be clear soon enough. When they come back, you'll be ready. Nice and clean." Kam assures her, and pulls her to lie back down. Hol reluctantly lays back at Kam's urging.
"Is it nice? Where I'm going?" Hol looks up to Kam, seeking some kind of assurance that everything will be okay. Kam nods.
"It will be wonderful. You will see gran- your mother and father there. They are waiting for you." Kam places a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. She compresses her lips, her mother felt so thin, solidity fading with age. As though if she squeezed to hard, she'd break into pieces like pottery.
"You should rest. It will be a while." Kam's voice finally manages to strain out. Hol looks up to her, concentrating.
"Who are you?" Kam's eyes widen. It had been a while since a regression like this. She tried to smile, to be reassuring.
"I am Kam, I am your daughter." Hol jerks away from Kam's touch.
"No, you're not! I want my mother! I want my father!" She bolts upright, trying to rise from her bedroll. Her rotting legs don't take her far. Hol screams, terrified. Kam reaches out to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Calm down, I can explain-" Hol strikes her, and beats at her to make her back away. Hol thrashes, and cries as a child does. Kam watches her, her expression going slack, shoulders slumping. Her heart breaks in her chest, as she watches her mother lose herself further. Kam lets Hol tire herself out. It doesn't take long. She didn't have much energy now. Once she's laying on the ground, Kam moves and puts her back to bed, replacing her bandages. As she finishes, she feels a gentle touch on her hand. She looks to Hol, and sees her mother looking back at her.
"Please, end this." Kam starts to feel hope.
"But, mother, you might get better-" Hol holds up a hand, and shakes her head.
"We both know there is no getting better from this. Please, child. End this." Hol looks to Kam, pleadingly. Kam's face crumples, but she nods.
"Lay down." Hol obliges her, laying flat on her back. Kam moves, and puts Hol's head in her lap, stroking the woman's hair. She hums a lullaby, and Hol's eyes slip closed. Kam squeezes her eyes shut, and unsheathes the dagger. Holding it to her mother's temple. Hol's eyes open one last time, and look at Kam.
"Who are you?" With a quick push, Kam ends her mother's life, culling the weakest member from the tribe. She puts the dagger down, covering her eyes. Tears burned her eyes, but they did not fall. She presses the ball of her hand into her eyes, and rises. She sets about readying her mother.
Sitting outside, she waits. The stench of the corpse within has grown, and she can't stay in with it anymore. Kam makes the decision to lay her mother to rest without the rest of the tribe. She lowers her mother into the grave, and piles the stones on the grave. She says the rites to pass the soul into the next world, hoping for her mother to make it safely to Gwamith. She looks at the overgrown pathway, hoping to see any sign of her tribe coming back. She is disappointed each time she musters up hope.
After another week of waiting she cannot wait anymore. Surely they would be at the meeting place. She will join them. Join what's left of her family. Of her people. She packs up her tent, the last of her possessions, and seals the gravesite. Kam sets out, nursing one last flame of hope in her heart.
Three days later, she crests the last ridgeline. To the valley where the last tribes were supposed to meet up. From her vantage point, she looks down upon the collected camp, but soon furrows her brows. There were no fires going, no sounds of animals anywhere in the valley. The hairs on the back of Kam's neck stood on end, and a fear gripped her. Slowly, she moves down the side of the valley, forcing herself to take her time.
Arriving to the edge of the camp, she finds a banner she recognizes, one of the other clans from her tribe. Moving within, she finds the plain signs of disturbances. Dirt shifted, blood spilled, and weapons dropped. Her pace picks up, and she hurries through the camp, looking for any signs of life.
Up ahead she spies a large figure. Standing still, as though waiting. Someone she doesn't know. Kam steps toward them, a hand shaking as she reaches out. The smell hit her nostrils first. Then she saw the rips in clothing, and through those, the decaying flesh. Hope left her. Completely and utterly. All that was left was to not turn into one of these herself. As she tried to back away, the undead Eark turned and saw her. It lunged forward, reaching for her. Kam lifted the old scimitar she had, and broke the blade off in the head of the thing. With a few more steps, it fell. But not before letting out a gurgling, splitting scream. Kam didn't wait to see what that cry would summon. Shame filled her as she ran away from the walking dead of the last of her people. She would remedy this. Somehow.
Having reached a lofty spot where she would be able to see anything approaching, Kam settled to sit. She took out a bow and counted her arrows. She had never been a good shot, but with these mindless husks, she didn't have to be perfect. It took longer than she would've liked to take them all down. She had to go down too many times. Recover arrows too many times. Flush undead out of tents too many times. But it was done. She laid them to rest in that valley. Only after being sure she was completely alone, did she cry for the first time in her adult life. Tears falling for her mother. For her tribe. For her people. She was alone for the first time in her life. The kind of lonliness that falls upon the last member of a race settled on her shoulders. She swore there, she would do anything to bring back her people. Do any amount of work. Sacrifice anything of herself that she could. Despite her promise to herself, she felt utterly hopeless.
She wandered, eventually finding a ship from the Sorrows to the Northern Kingdoms. She boarded it, her common poor. But she would find salvation somewhere. She just had to hunt it down.
poke.