Feb 16, 2019 3:28:29 GMT -5 |
Post by Brenne Orvar on Feb 16, 2019 3:28:29 GMT -5
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[attr="class","revcallname"]BRENNE
ORVAR
[attr="class","revcalllyric"]AND NO ONE DARED DISTURB THE SOUND OF SILENCE
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[attr="class","revcallbar1"] RANK commander | [attr="class","revcallbar1"] AGE twenty six | [attr="class","revcallbar1"] PRONOUNS she/her | [attr="class","revcallbar1"] SEXUALITY bisexual | [attr="class","revcallbar1"] ORIGIN Oakmoore Forest |
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It was a story whispered through the night to the children in their beds, a warning on the lips of the parents to nip the bud of misbehavior at its core. Of a group of monsters who roamed the lands, hunting troublemakers and bringing them before the King himself for punishment- that is, if they seen at all ever again. Sometimes, rare times, those that were hunted and taken only then appeared as ghosts, wailing within the woods of the beasts who had led them to their demise. And the children would puff out their chests, proclaiming that they did not believe in the old tales. Say that they were too good and too brave to be taken. Yet, when they thought no one was looking, the children would glance out towards the thick trees with a paranoid tint, walking ever so faster in order to return to the safety of their home.
[BREAK][BREAK]
In reality, it wasn't a pack of monsters that stalked naughty children through the forests and plains and swamps, leaving nothing but ghosts and bones in their wake. No. It was the Orvar instead. They were a family of warriors, a tribe raised throughout the years- decades- centuries- millennia to be the best of the best. To fight and hunt without peers. Loyalty bleed through their veins, a raw sense of duty bred through and through. Anything and everything for their One True King, and whenever he called, they were more than happy to answer.
[BREAK][BREAK]
If the Queen had need for a specific Pokemon, they would search for it. If the Prince or Princess was lost within the woods, they would track them. If the King ordered a traitor or criminal to be found, they would hunt. The Orvar served without fail, for countless generations each and every single member of their tribe answered the call of duty. It was their life's quest to fulfill the orders of the King, just the King, and do whatever he wished. And as the generations passed, the loyalty was hardened through oceans of blood, sweat, and tears.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra Orvar, the firstborn of Takar and Mona Orvar, heiress to the Orvar tribe and future holder of the Hersker title (The One Who Leads), was no exception. From the moment she took her first steps, a bow was thrust into her hands- thick with baby fat, slow and graceless. Typical children her age drew and played and frolicked. Sarra trained night and day, grueling work with hardly a pause in order to mold the little girl into a fierce warrior, and Sarra thrived.
[BREAK][BREAK]
She was a prodigy the likes of which the Orvar have never seen before, soaking up the lessons of her forefathers like the cracked earth of a desert, always craving more. Thirsting for lesson after lesson, never satisfied. Never still. Sarra knew not of peace, unable to relax for even a moment as she went through teacher after teacher, her hunger for their knowledge all consuming. So when the girl was ten, she was given a partner to train with, as customary in their tribe. A rowlet was placed at her side, and it was made obvious that her innate talent with the bow and blade was definitely not extended to training a Pokemon.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra's parents laughed as they watched their daughter finally struggle with something, the stubborn rowlet refusing even the simplest command from the unusually strict and harsh ten year old girl. Attacking with leaves and the occasional pecking whenever the child would get too frustrated and lash out. As they watched Sarra chase her rowlet, and the rowlet chase their Sarra, Takar and Mona couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of relief knowing that their prodigious daughter could still act her age. Still be a child.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It took several months of work on Sarra's part to gain even the barest smidgen of respect from her unruly rowlet, an entire three years for her to get the grouchy owl to pay attention. The first time the rowlet had obeyed a command from her without grief or hesitation, Sarra honestly felt like crying out of sheer joy. She had finally done it, had finally gotten the dumb bird to listen to her. That comment, of course, set them back a few months, but Sarra still couldn't help but feel almost giddy with pure satisfaction.
[BREAK][BREAK]
When she was fourteen, Mona had another child. Sven, a tiny and shriveled baby boy. It was obvious from birth that Sarra's younger brother was not a standard Orvar. He was so painfully small, born much too early. His little lungs heaved, his premature eyes bleary and unfocused. His body frail and horribly fragile, much more so than a typical infant. Gods above, it was a miracle in and of itself that he survived through his baby years and beyond. And as Sven aged, it was more and more apparent that he could never be a hunter like the rest of his tribe. He was much too weak. Much too sickly.
[BREAK][BREAK]
But he was smart.
[BREAK][BREAK]
A genius, really. An absolutely brilliant mind stuck in a broken body. At first, Sarra had no patience for her tiny brother. He was not the fighter that she had expected. That she had wanted. No, her brother was as flimsy as a sheet of paper and was horrified at even the very thought of violence. Nothing like she had dreamt of. He required constant attention, constant care, and the parents that had lavished her with praise and value were suddenly not watching her anymore. So no. She didn't like her brother at all.
[BREAK][BREAK]
That is, until one day. She and her dartrix were exhausted from a rather harsh training session, sprawled out on a grassy hill underneath the cool shade of a tree, her brother sitting against the trunk. He spoke, like he often did, of ideas and theories and dreams. His gentle, quiet voice filling the silence. A soothing breeze ghosting over her cooling skin, the trails of light that peaked through the dense leaves warming her body, the cries of pidgey and pikipek in the distance echoing through the fields. Sarra closed her eyes, listening to her brother's words, and for the first time for as long as she could remember... she felt at peace. The pressure of perfection was gone. The constant gaze of her tribe was gone. A weight was lifted off of her chest, and for just a moment, Sarra could breathe with ease.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It was then that Sarra and Sven were inseparable, almost as if it was physically impossible to find one without the other when Sarra was in their little camp within the woods. There were whispers through the tribe of them, the older sister a prodigy at combat and the younger brother a natural born genius, and an almost fearful wariness was born. They were respected for their talent, their gifts, and their hard work to maintain and expand upon their skills. And as the years went on and the two grew older, grew closer and more confident, it was obvious that Sarra's reign as Hersker would be an... interesting time for the tribe.
[BREAK][BREAK]
For Sarra, her gift with the bow and blade was natural. Her skill as a trainer was acquired through years ofstubbornness patience and devotion. These things were useful to her and the Orvar tribe, necessary not only for their duty to the King, but their very survival out in the wilds. But during her moments of peace with her brother atop the hill they called their own, another talent was unearthed.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra could sing.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It wasn't a blatantly obvious thing. Her voice was not a thing of beauty, capturing the minds and hearts of men with just a single note. No, it was simply good. A rougher pitch, soft in tone but firm in confidence. It was something that she thought was useless at first, just another insignificant trait about herself that had no bearing on her life. It couldn't help her fight. It did nothing for tracking. It wasn't anything important. But her brother thought otherwise.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sven was an oddity in a sea of violent relatives and warriors. He was a gentle, pacifistic soul who saw worth in the smallest trivialities. Sarra had thought she knew all which she needed to know, and her brother proved her wrong. While her parents taught their daughter how to survive the harsh realities of life, Sven taught her sister how to enjoy it. How to take the things that she had thought were useless and inconsequential and make them bring joy into her life. It was a seemingly small thing, what her brother taught her, but it opened Sarra's eyes to what she was missing.
[BREAK][BREAK]
So she sang for the enjoyment of it. Not because she had to. Not because she was expected to. But because she wanted to, and that was what made all the difference. When she was sad or in pain, mournful tunes breezed through her lips. When she was happy or excited, cheerful humming could be heard. She sang for her brother whenever he asked, for her parents whenever they mentioned it. For Sarra, singing was something for her and her alone. Something that only she could give to others when she wanted to, and she was more than happy to share as long as it brought a smile to the faces of those who listened.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sven was a very smart boy, more clever than those more than three times his age, more intelligent than anyone in the tribe by the tender age of ten, holding wisdom beyond his years. The others of the Orvar didn't know how to react to the child, someone so against what they were used to, what they expected from a typical member of their tribe, that they weren't sure how to go about with him. While others his age were learning how to hunt, track, capture, and kill, he was indoors reading. Studying. Learning. The Orvar tribe's proximity to the royal family had its benefits, and the current Hersker (their father Takar) was more than able to bring all the books that his frail son could ever dream of. And Sven was quite the dreamer.
[BREAK][BREAK]
He told his sister of his ideas in confidence. Of theories and hypotheses and innovations that could change their world. And for the first time in her life, Sarra was terrified. She had heard the tales of those with similar thoughts disappearing without a trace. Of going to bed at night, only to be gone the very next morning. Or of people who had lost their minds, their memories, only to be driven insane by the lack of thoughts within their heads. So she told him the warnings, ensured that he understood the risks, and that she, above all else, did not want to lose him. Because he was her heart, gave her the enjoyment she could now experience in life. Without him? She wouldn't know what to do.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sven agreed to keep his cleverness between them, the ideas of inventions that had the potential to better their kingdom as a whole hidden behind the veil of secrecy. To say that Sarra was relieved would be an extreme understatement. With this, she thought, he will be safe.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It was not even a year after his promise that the Prince had told her of his Research Center, a place where those with the brightest minds could gather and work to improve the lives of those within the kingdom. That Sven was more than welcome to come and learn with the best of the best. The instant she heard, Sarra's heart sunk while Sven's practically glowed. He begged and pleaded for countless hours to be allowed to attend, giving argument after explanation after argument after explanation. Ever single waking moment of his life for a solid week he would do nothing but state his case and why he should go.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Now Sarra was a strong woman, the future Hersker of their tribe, leader of their family, and had a will of pure, indomitable steel. Yet after a week of her brother's constant, never ending, insufferable demands, she collapsed under the minuscule weight of the eleven year old boy.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Nearly every day for five months she and her brother would make the trek to the Research Center which was just a minuscule hour walk from their base camp. Sarra would drop off Sven, wish him luck for the day, and go about her business before picking him up at nightfall. Her own time was less chaotic and awe-inspiring than his, at the very least. She was still in the process of becoming groomed to take up the mantle of Hersker by her father, her days filled with nothing but training, tending to the needs of her tribe, and occasionally going out on assignment.
[BREAK][BREAK]
At night the boy would gush about the work that he and the others were doing, about what he was learning, and he would preen under the attention and praise of the scientists, 'Actual real life scientists, Sarra! Isn't that so cool!!', smiling brightly even as he slept. For a while, it warmed Sarra's soul, putting their wariness at ease as the weeks stretched on. To see Sven so happy, so fulfilled... it filled her heart with hope.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra was so proud of her baby brother.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Their father was not a stupid man, however. Sure, he used his muscles more than his mind, but Sven's obvious mood improvement was exactly that. Obvious. A blind man could see the boy's brilliant, constant grin. The fact that he was missing for hours upon hours of the day. So when he went to his daughter, his heir, about what was going on, Sarra had to come out with the truth. After all, maybe she would be able to convince her father that this was a good idea. That this was good for Sven, that he was blossoming under the care of the Research Center. She thought he would keep this to himself, that he wouldn't go and inform the King of the Prince's "betrayal".
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra thought right. Takar wasn't the smartest, but he was definitely not an idiot. If he went to the King with this information, his son, daughter, and the Prince would be put at risk. It didn't matter that Sven was only an eleven year old boy, he was still caught up in something highly illegal. But, at the same time, Takar could understand why Sarra had decided that this was such a positive thing for Sven. Because this was good for Sven. His son was happy, for once in his life he was laughing and smiling freely without a care in the world. And as much as he was loyal to the kingdom and the King, he adored his children with all of his heart. He wanted them to be happy. So, when his son had come to him, nerves filling the poor boy's voice as he asked if his father could come to the Research Center with him, the Hersker agreed instantly.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It'd make for a good opportunity to ask the Prince to help him convince Sven to wait until the King gave his permission. Because, no matter how good this was for Sven, Takar was nervous of the possible repercussions.
[BREAK][BREAK]
On that fateful day, all was well. Sven was excited to show his father around the Research Center, eager to show Takar what he did and how proud he was. Sarra and her mother were tending to Decidueye's latest batch of eggs, the prideful bird filled with a peaceful joy as she cared for her clutch. Long past were the days of her being the stubborn Rowlet, bane of Sarra's existence. Now she was a friend and faithful companion, her Trainer's closest friend. And while Decidueye was picking at a stray stick in her nest, she smelt the smoke. Her large eyes trailed up, and the owl let out a piercing cry. Sarra looked towards the horizon, over the trees, and her heart sunk.
[BREAK][BREAK]
She and Decidueye ran the entire way, never once pausing to catch her breath. Her legs burned, muscles straining under the pressure, sweat dripping into her eyes and stinging at the cuts and scrapes from branches that clipped her as she whipped passed. And as they broke through the tree line into the clearing, her soul burned.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra screamed as she raced towards the inferno of the Research Center, brilliant flames swallowing the building as the air roared with heat and death. Her skin peeled with the fire licked at her flesh, racing through a boiling haze as she crashed into the building. Crying out for her father. For her brother. For anyone. Decidueye keening with agony as she searched through the raging inferno, Sarra panting raggedly alongside. And as the pair toppled over a cabinet, they found a larger body clutching a smaller figure. Takar was dead, wrapped around his son in an effort to save his life, to protect his precious child from the unforgiving heat of the fire.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra sobbed as she peeled away the arms of her father, desperate to rescue him and get the boy to safety. To finish her father's dying quest and save his life. She didn't notice Decidueye grabbing Takar's body as well, falling behind her with the weight of his corpse.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra barely managed to escape the building as it crumbled underneath the weight of the flames, Sven on her back as she stumbled blindly through the forest back to their home. A song, cracked and crumbling through severely smoke damaged cords, echoed through the trees as the woman trudged on. Blackness clawing at her eyes, a dark haze over her vision, limbs weak and burned, but she carried on. She would not stop until she was back at the camp, safe, and her beloved brother was taken care of.
[BREAK][BREAK]
And when they returned, Mona fell to her knees as she witnessed her scarred daughter carrying the disfigured corpse of her son, Decidueye and Takar nowhere to be seen.
[BREAK][BREAK]
She buried her brother on their hill underneath the tree, a simple grave for a brilliant, joyful boy who had a bright and shining future ahead of him. Taken from this world all too soon.
[BREAK][BREAK]
As the sun set, her ruined voice carried a mournful tune, broken with dry sobs and heaving lungs. The birds were silent in their calls, the wind carrying her empty cries through the land. And when she her song was complete, and the final notes vanished in the night air, they took her singing with them.
[BREAK][BREAK]
There, with fingers running through the small mound of dirt, the newly appointed Hersker of the Orvar tribe declared vengeance upon the one who killed Sven, her father, her partner, and dozens of others. The King would die, and the Prince would rule, for that was her oath.
[BREAK][BREAK]
She was now Brenne, the Burned One, and her fury's as hot as the flames that killed her heart.
[BREAK][BREAK]
and in the naked light i saw
It was a story whispered through the night to the children in their beds, a warning on the lips of the parents to nip the bud of misbehavior at its core. Of a group of monsters who roamed the lands, hunting troublemakers and bringing them before the King himself for punishment- that is, if they seen at all ever again. Sometimes, rare times, those that were hunted and taken only then appeared as ghosts, wailing within the woods of the beasts who had led them to their demise. And the children would puff out their chests, proclaiming that they did not believe in the old tales. Say that they were too good and too brave to be taken. Yet, when they thought no one was looking, the children would glance out towards the thick trees with a paranoid tint, walking ever so faster in order to return to the safety of their home.
[BREAK][BREAK]
In reality, it wasn't a pack of monsters that stalked naughty children through the forests and plains and swamps, leaving nothing but ghosts and bones in their wake. No. It was the Orvar instead. They were a family of warriors, a tribe raised throughout the years- decades- centuries- millennia to be the best of the best. To fight and hunt without peers. Loyalty bleed through their veins, a raw sense of duty bred through and through. Anything and everything for their One True King, and whenever he called, they were more than happy to answer.
[BREAK][BREAK]
If the Queen had need for a specific Pokemon, they would search for it. If the Prince or Princess was lost within the woods, they would track them. If the King ordered a traitor or criminal to be found, they would hunt. The Orvar served without fail, for countless generations each and every single member of their tribe answered the call of duty. It was their life's quest to fulfill the orders of the King, just the King, and do whatever he wished. And as the generations passed, the loyalty was hardened through oceans of blood, sweat, and tears.
[BREAK][BREAK]
ten thousand people, maybe more
Sarra Orvar, the firstborn of Takar and Mona Orvar, heiress to the Orvar tribe and future holder of the Hersker title (The One Who Leads), was no exception. From the moment she took her first steps, a bow was thrust into her hands- thick with baby fat, slow and graceless. Typical children her age drew and played and frolicked. Sarra trained night and day, grueling work with hardly a pause in order to mold the little girl into a fierce warrior, and Sarra thrived.
[BREAK][BREAK]
She was a prodigy the likes of which the Orvar have never seen before, soaking up the lessons of her forefathers like the cracked earth of a desert, always craving more. Thirsting for lesson after lesson, never satisfied. Never still. Sarra knew not of peace, unable to relax for even a moment as she went through teacher after teacher, her hunger for their knowledge all consuming. So when the girl was ten, she was given a partner to train with, as customary in their tribe. A rowlet was placed at her side, and it was made obvious that her innate talent with the bow and blade was definitely not extended to training a Pokemon.
[BREAK][BREAK]
Sarra's parents laughed as they watched their daughter finally struggle with something, the stubborn rowlet refusing even the simplest command from the unusually strict and harsh ten year old girl. Attacking with leaves and the occasional pecking whenever the child would get too frustrated and lash out. As they watched Sarra chase her rowlet, and the rowlet chase their Sarra, Takar and Mona couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of relief knowing that their prodigious daughter could still act her age. Still be a child.
[BREAK][BREAK]
It took several months of work on Sarra's part to gain even the barest smidgen of respect from her unruly rowlet, an entire three years for her to get the grouchy owl to pay attention. The first time the rowlet had obeyed a command from her without grief or hesitation, Sarra honestly felt like crying out of sheer joy. She had finally done it, had finally gotten the dumb bird to listen to her. That comment, of course, set them back a few months, but Sarra still couldn't help but feel almost giddy with pure satisfaction.
[BREAK][BREAK]
people talking without speaking
When she was fourteen, Mona had another child. Sven, a tiny and shriveled baby boy. It was obvious from birth that Sarra's younger brother was not a standard Orvar. He was so painfully small, born much too early. His little lungs heaved, his premature eyes bleary and unfocused. His body frail and horribly fragile, much more so than a typical infant. Gods above, it was a miracle in and of itself that he survived through his baby years and beyond. And as Sven aged, it was more and more apparent that he could never be a hunter like the rest of his tribe. He was much too weak. Much too sickly.
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But he was smart.
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A genius, really. An absolutely brilliant mind stuck in a broken body. At first, Sarra had no patience for her tiny brother. He was not the fighter that she had expected. That she had wanted. No, her brother was as flimsy as a sheet of paper and was horrified at even the very thought of violence. Nothing like she had dreamt of. He required constant attention, constant care, and the parents that had lavished her with praise and value were suddenly not watching her anymore. So no. She didn't like her brother at all.
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That is, until one day. She and her dartrix were exhausted from a rather harsh training session, sprawled out on a grassy hill underneath the cool shade of a tree, her brother sitting against the trunk. He spoke, like he often did, of ideas and theories and dreams. His gentle, quiet voice filling the silence. A soothing breeze ghosting over her cooling skin, the trails of light that peaked through the dense leaves warming her body, the cries of pidgey and pikipek in the distance echoing through the fields. Sarra closed her eyes, listening to her brother's words, and for the first time for as long as she could remember... she felt at peace. The pressure of perfection was gone. The constant gaze of her tribe was gone. A weight was lifted off of her chest, and for just a moment, Sarra could breathe with ease.
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It was then that Sarra and Sven were inseparable, almost as if it was physically impossible to find one without the other when Sarra was in their little camp within the woods. There were whispers through the tribe of them, the older sister a prodigy at combat and the younger brother a natural born genius, and an almost fearful wariness was born. They were respected for their talent, their gifts, and their hard work to maintain and expand upon their skills. And as the years went on and the two grew older, grew closer and more confident, it was obvious that Sarra's reign as Hersker would be an... interesting time for the tribe.
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people hearing without listening
For Sarra, her gift with the bow and blade was natural. Her skill as a trainer was acquired through years of
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Sarra could sing.
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It wasn't a blatantly obvious thing. Her voice was not a thing of beauty, capturing the minds and hearts of men with just a single note. No, it was simply good. A rougher pitch, soft in tone but firm in confidence. It was something that she thought was useless at first, just another insignificant trait about herself that had no bearing on her life. It couldn't help her fight. It did nothing for tracking. It wasn't anything important. But her brother thought otherwise.
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Sven was an oddity in a sea of violent relatives and warriors. He was a gentle, pacifistic soul who saw worth in the smallest trivialities. Sarra had thought she knew all which she needed to know, and her brother proved her wrong. While her parents taught their daughter how to survive the harsh realities of life, Sven taught her sister how to enjoy it. How to take the things that she had thought were useless and inconsequential and make them bring joy into her life. It was a seemingly small thing, what her brother taught her, but it opened Sarra's eyes to what she was missing.
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So she sang for the enjoyment of it. Not because she had to. Not because she was expected to. But because she wanted to, and that was what made all the difference. When she was sad or in pain, mournful tunes breezed through her lips. When she was happy or excited, cheerful humming could be heard. She sang for her brother whenever he asked, for her parents whenever they mentioned it. For Sarra, singing was something for her and her alone. Something that only she could give to others when she wanted to, and she was more than happy to share as long as it brought a smile to the faces of those who listened.
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people writing songs that voices never shared
Sven was a very smart boy, more clever than those more than three times his age, more intelligent than anyone in the tribe by the tender age of ten, holding wisdom beyond his years. The others of the Orvar didn't know how to react to the child, someone so against what they were used to, what they expected from a typical member of their tribe, that they weren't sure how to go about with him. While others his age were learning how to hunt, track, capture, and kill, he was indoors reading. Studying. Learning. The Orvar tribe's proximity to the royal family had its benefits, and the current Hersker (their father Takar) was more than able to bring all the books that his frail son could ever dream of. And Sven was quite the dreamer.
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He told his sister of his ideas in confidence. Of theories and hypotheses and innovations that could change their world. And for the first time in her life, Sarra was terrified. She had heard the tales of those with similar thoughts disappearing without a trace. Of going to bed at night, only to be gone the very next morning. Or of people who had lost their minds, their memories, only to be driven insane by the lack of thoughts within their heads. So she told him the warnings, ensured that he understood the risks, and that she, above all else, did not want to lose him. Because he was her heart, gave her the enjoyment she could now experience in life. Without him? She wouldn't know what to do.
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Sven agreed to keep his cleverness between them, the ideas of inventions that had the potential to better their kingdom as a whole hidden behind the veil of secrecy. To say that Sarra was relieved would be an extreme understatement. With this, she thought, he will be safe.
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It was not even a year after his promise that the Prince had told her of his Research Center, a place where those with the brightest minds could gather and work to improve the lives of those within the kingdom. That Sven was more than welcome to come and learn with the best of the best. The instant she heard, Sarra's heart sunk while Sven's practically glowed. He begged and pleaded for countless hours to be allowed to attend, giving argument after explanation after argument after explanation. Ever single waking moment of his life for a solid week he would do nothing but state his case and why he should go.
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Now Sarra was a strong woman, the future Hersker of their tribe, leader of their family, and had a will of pure, indomitable steel. Yet after a week of her brother's constant, never ending, insufferable demands, she collapsed under the minuscule weight of the eleven year old boy.
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Nearly every day for five months she and her brother would make the trek to the Research Center which was just a minuscule hour walk from their base camp. Sarra would drop off Sven, wish him luck for the day, and go about her business before picking him up at nightfall. Her own time was less chaotic and awe-inspiring than his, at the very least. She was still in the process of becoming groomed to take up the mantle of Hersker by her father, her days filled with nothing but training, tending to the needs of her tribe, and occasionally going out on assignment.
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At night the boy would gush about the work that he and the others were doing, about what he was learning, and he would preen under the attention and praise of the scientists, 'Actual real life scientists, Sarra! Isn't that so cool!!', smiling brightly even as he slept. For a while, it warmed Sarra's soul, putting their wariness at ease as the weeks stretched on. To see Sven so happy, so fulfilled... it filled her heart with hope.
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Sarra was so proud of her baby brother.
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Their father was not a stupid man, however. Sure, he used his muscles more than his mind, but Sven's obvious mood improvement was exactly that. Obvious. A blind man could see the boy's brilliant, constant grin. The fact that he was missing for hours upon hours of the day. So when he went to his daughter, his heir, about what was going on, Sarra had to come out with the truth. After all, maybe she would be able to convince her father that this was a good idea. That this was good for Sven, that he was blossoming under the care of the Research Center. She thought he would keep this to himself, that he wouldn't go and inform the King of the Prince's "betrayal".
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Sarra thought right. Takar wasn't the smartest, but he was definitely not an idiot. If he went to the King with this information, his son, daughter, and the Prince would be put at risk. It didn't matter that Sven was only an eleven year old boy, he was still caught up in something highly illegal. But, at the same time, Takar could understand why Sarra had decided that this was such a positive thing for Sven. Because this was good for Sven. His son was happy, for once in his life he was laughing and smiling freely without a care in the world. And as much as he was loyal to the kingdom and the King, he adored his children with all of his heart. He wanted them to be happy. So, when his son had come to him, nerves filling the poor boy's voice as he asked if his father could come to the Research Center with him, the Hersker agreed instantly.
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It'd make for a good opportunity to ask the Prince to help him convince Sven to wait until the King gave his permission. Because, no matter how good this was for Sven, Takar was nervous of the possible repercussions.
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and no one dared disturb the sound
On that fateful day, all was well. Sven was excited to show his father around the Research Center, eager to show Takar what he did and how proud he was. Sarra and her mother were tending to Decidueye's latest batch of eggs, the prideful bird filled with a peaceful joy as she cared for her clutch. Long past were the days of her being the stubborn Rowlet, bane of Sarra's existence. Now she was a friend and faithful companion, her Trainer's closest friend. And while Decidueye was picking at a stray stick in her nest, she smelt the smoke. Her large eyes trailed up, and the owl let out a piercing cry. Sarra looked towards the horizon, over the trees, and her heart sunk.
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She and Decidueye ran the entire way, never once pausing to catch her breath. Her legs burned, muscles straining under the pressure, sweat dripping into her eyes and stinging at the cuts and scrapes from branches that clipped her as she whipped passed. And as they broke through the tree line into the clearing, her soul burned.
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Sarra screamed as she raced towards the inferno of the Research Center, brilliant flames swallowing the building as the air roared with heat and death. Her skin peeled with the fire licked at her flesh, racing through a boiling haze as she crashed into the building. Crying out for her father. For her brother. For anyone. Decidueye keening with agony as she searched through the raging inferno, Sarra panting raggedly alongside. And as the pair toppled over a cabinet, they found a larger body clutching a smaller figure. Takar was dead, wrapped around his son in an effort to save his life, to protect his precious child from the unforgiving heat of the fire.
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Sarra sobbed as she peeled away the arms of her father, desperate to rescue him and get the boy to safety. To finish her father's dying quest and save his life. She didn't notice Decidueye grabbing Takar's body as well, falling behind her with the weight of his corpse.
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Sarra barely managed to escape the building as it crumbled underneath the weight of the flames, Sven on her back as she stumbled blindly through the forest back to their home. A song, cracked and crumbling through severely smoke damaged cords, echoed through the trees as the woman trudged on. Blackness clawing at her eyes, a dark haze over her vision, limbs weak and burned, but she carried on. She would not stop until she was back at the camp, safe, and her beloved brother was taken care of.
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And when they returned, Mona fell to her knees as she witnessed her scarred daughter carrying the disfigured corpse of her son, Decidueye and Takar nowhere to be seen.
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She buried her brother on their hill underneath the tree, a simple grave for a brilliant, joyful boy who had a bright and shining future ahead of him. Taken from this world all too soon.
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As the sun set, her ruined voice carried a mournful tune, broken with dry sobs and heaving lungs. The birds were silent in their calls, the wind carrying her empty cries through the land. And when she her song was complete, and the final notes vanished in the night air, they took her singing with them.
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There, with fingers running through the small mound of dirt, the newly appointed Hersker of the Orvar tribe declared vengeance upon the one who killed Sven, her father, her partner, and dozens of others. The King would die, and the Prince would rule, for that was her oath.
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She was now Brenne, the Burned One, and her fury's as hot as the flames that killed her heart.
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of silence
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ALOY FROM HORIZON ZERO DAWN
LOOKS LIKE
ALOY FROM HORIZON ZERO DAWN
PHARAOH LEAP CREATES
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