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« on: November 15, 2009, 09:50:40 am »
Ajina is an atavi. A well groomed and handsomely furred atavi of the wandering forest caste. Atavi of the wandering forest are squires, scouts and couriers, quick on their feet an swift and silent through any terrain. Ajina, well along in his training, was squire to the greatest hero of Sacred Mount Kailasa and all the Material Plane, the Yaksha Avisa. Avisa, towering and bronze skinned, had lived for eons in the Celestial Heavens and when Sacred Mount Kailasa drifted nearest the Celestial Plane, Avisa was the first of the Yaksha, servants of the Deva, to come to the Mount and to the Forests and befriend the Bandar Log.
The sun was cooler than Ajina would like in these foreign lands, but Avisa relentlessly campaigns to expand the rule of Temple. Behind him sat several of his comrades, laden with supplies and all manner of wild game they had procured in these lands. But they sat behind Ajina silently, and stared ahead.
Marching into these lands a fortnight past, Avisa had made the rocks sing with his footsteps and the very land itself called a challenge to the men who would rule here. Men of no consequence, beholden to some obscure lord, their loyalty bought with the coin taken from those living here. Dreams would come to men in the night, dreams of a champion of Kailasa, champion of the Devas and Sacred Mount Kailasa, dreams of a challenger from the Celestial Sphere. Word spread, as it did on campaign with Avisa, and the men who so valued the coin before their lives would gather on the field to meet their challenger.
So it was today. Feeble sunlight glinted off spots of arms and armor that was not entirely rusted, these men arrayed themselves before their craven commander and a priest of some village goddess. The priest muttered his invocation, a blessing only he believed in, as their lines stumbled forward.
Avisa prayed. His shield, a gift from the Guru Ghandi, and falchion both overhead, Avisa was bathed in light. Paltry arrow fire. A gust threw away one shaft as the shield deftly turned a second. Avisa sang to the rocks, to the iron beneath the ground, and suddenly he was encased, ironskinned. A second feeble volley of arrows. Closing his eyes on his enemies, Avisa stepped into the Celestial Sphere. And stepped back, but only partly, his form ethereal to a mortal's eye.
And then Avisa was upon them. Swirling falchion rending flesh and ragged armor. Shield arm a blurring arc. Many among the men would approach Avisa but dared not strike such an awesome creature. Those who did not flee were struck down where they stood, "A good death," thought Avisa, "for those who knew God not, would die in the presence of one so Godly."
Then, a flashing spear and a fountain of blood. Avisa raged and the ground beneath trembled. The wound would knit itself even as Avisa fought, but it was as foul a wound as Ajina had ever seen. More men were cut down, soaked in blood, their own and the blood of the mighty Yaksha. Until blood was all that was left to see. Men, bleeding, fled the field and Avisa, bleeding, struck down the banners of the lordling who flew them in defiance.
Later, Ajina sat outside his lord's pavilion and prepared the Yaksha's midnight supper. Avisa had sequestered himself inside since the battle, communing with the Devas and perhaps the Gurus. His wound would knit itself and Avisa had no need for Ajina tonight beyond the meal and his surveillance. Then, torchlight spilled out from the flap of the pavilion and out strode Avisa towards the firelight.
Ajina rasped, and nearly shrieked in fear. His instinct to wail and fly up the nearest tree barely suppressed. Avisa's wound was a fiery crimson mottled with a blackened pestilence slashing across torso. Ajina knelt before the Yaksha. "My lord, your wound! Is it ... diseased? Ajina lifted his head to behold the Yaksha but no reply was forthcoming. "Avisa, my lord. Your meal is almost ready. Is there anything else you need of me .... ? My lord?" Avisa drew several symbols in the sand. Ajina stared at them without comprehension. "Avisa, are you... unable to speak?"
Such is the fate of the great Yaksha Champion Avisa and his servant Ajina.
