[EMPIRE!] Third Tellurian Games, Private Thread

[TheDarkDM]

"That would be... something, indeed. If such a thing were possible... I would indeed again have something in which to find solace and meaning. You have my thanks, lord prince, doubly so should you indeed be able to help."


Senusret patted Alfmyr's shoulders and pointed down the mountain towards the field where the Tzaltec zeppelins were docked.

"I will speak with my father. There will be a servant awaiting you and your son where our ships are docked. There are many preparations to be made, but I have faith in the power of the Teotlkan. I will see you later tonight, good prince."

With that, Senusret descended the mountain, hurrying to find his father that all might be made ready for the night.

[Aedilred]

Later that evening, Alfmyr made his way to the Tzaltec zeppelins, carrying his son with him. Elwyn was a boy of just over three years, though he looked younger. His skin was even darker than his father's, but tinged with an unhealthy greenish hue that gave it the impression of pallor despite its shade. Bringing the boy this distance at all had been a risk, but Alfmyr would not take the risk of his son's dying in his absence.

Waving a hand to dismiss his own men, who took a step back to wait with lit torches, he stepped forward to greet the Tzaltec.

"I am Alfmyr of Jarrland," he said, "and this is my son, Elwyn. I was told we would be expected."

[TheDarkDM]

There was but a single person awaiting Alfmyr in the dark, and to his surprise he realized it was a young woman. Wreathed in a crimson robe, her face was only barely visible in the light of the torch she held, yet she smiled at his approach and motioned wordlessly for him to follow. She ascended the gangplank into the belly of the zeppelin, and in its cargo hold Alfmyr beheld the Teotlkan himself, standing bare chested before a roaring brazier.

"Welcome, good prince. My son has told me of your child's affliction, and I shall do what I can. I simply ask that what you witness here you not reveal to any save your boy when he comes of age."

The silent girl knelt down beside the brazier and pulled forth a golden bowl and onyx knife, while the Teotlkan stepped aside to reveal a table standing at the very lip of the brazier. He took the implements from the girl before she melted into the shadows, and placed them on the table before reaching out to take Alfmyr's son in his arms. He lay the boy gently on the table and motioned towards the bowl.

"I will need your blood, good prince."

[Aedilred]

"I shall tell no-one, as you say." He removed his gloves and coat and rolled up his left sleeve, revealing skin beneath dyed a golden yellow. He stepped over to the bowl and held out his arm. "Take as much as you need."

OOC: Sorry, lost the thread for a bit!

[TheDarkDM]

Taking the black knife in one hand, Nezetkhamun nodded.

"It shall be quick."

Without further ceremony, he drew a diagonal cut across Alfmyr's forearm, seizing his wrist and angling it towards the bowl. He held it there until the bowl was nearly filled, before pulling the Black Prince's arm away. Reaching beneath the table, he produced a silken bandage and wrapped the wound. Then he turned, and flicked the last droplets of blood from the knife into the fire.

"Blood of the Father, given in Hope."

The fire surged upwards, and the Teotlkan's words held in the air until he turned to whisper to Alfmyr.

"Trust me."

Before Alfmyr could ponder the Teotlkan's meaning, Nezetkhamun took hold of his son's hand and drew the knife across his palm. A soft cry of pain escaped the boy's lips as a thin trickle of crimson dripped to join his father's blood.

"Shhh, boy, take courage. This will be over soon."

Nezetkhamun waited a moment more before taking the bowl away, placing it carefully on the table as he bound the boy's wound hand with another bandage. Then he flicked the remainder of the boy's blood into the fire, only for it to climb even higher.

"Blood of the Son, given in Youth."

He then turned the knife on himself, cutting a low furrow in his palm and allowing a scant few drops to fall into the bowl, sparkling like rubies. The bowl flashed, for a moment seeming to shine like red crystal, before Nezetkhamun flicked his own blood into the fire, and it began to roar.

"Blood of the Dragon, given in Mercy."

He placed his hands on the boy's shirt and tore it open, revealing the sweat-slick frailty of his torso. Then without explanation he placed his index finger into the gathered blood, swirling it around and drawing forth a slick claw with which he began to draw on the boy. Three circles he traced, over heart and forehead and core, before linking them with thin lines and painting Tzaltec runes around the circles. By the time he was done the boy was a tapestry of gore, yet miraculously the blood remained unbroken and unmoving from where it had been laid. Then Nezetkhamun reached beneath the table again, and drew forth a lump of iron, and golden nugget, and a shallow golden lamp. Working swiftly, he placed the nugget within the circle on the boy's forehead, the iron above his heart, and the burning lamp at the center of his torso. When it was complete, the boy's shallow breaths threatened to turn the creation into a shambles, but as Nezetkhamun raised his now-healed hand over the boy his breathing grew calm, and easy.

"Strength of Iron, to Gird the Body
Purity of Gold, to Gild the Mind
Vitality of Fire, to Bolster the Spirit

Follow the Blood, to safeguard this Boy
Bend to his Will, that is the will of the Father
Work at the Core, as commanded by the Dragon

The Fire Dies, but he is Unburned!
The Gold Dims, but he is Unsullied!
The Iron Bends, but he is Unbroken!

Rise now, Child of Jarrland
Rise now, Child of Alfmyr
Rise now, and be made Whole!"

Nezetkhamun;s voice rose as he spoke, until it seemed his voice became the roar of the fire. He screamed defiance into the night, and on the walls the shadows grew gross and monstrous before the flame. The boy's body grew as still as graven stone, and the blood that marked him began to glow white-hot. Nezetkhamun spoke his final word, and it seemed a hurricane was birthed in that small room, and the boy's eyes snapped open as if from a dream.

Then the fire collapsed into darkness.

There was a brief, terrible moment as it seemed sight had deserted them, before there was a spark at Nezetkhamun's fingers and the brazier resumed a low, quiet burn. In the light Alfmyr saw that the objects that had lain over his son's body had disintegrated into ash, while the blood was slowly disappearing as though being absorbed into his body. And with every passing breath, it seemed the boy grew stronger. Nezetkhamun slumped against the table, and for the first time Alfmyr realized how haggard the Teotlkan had become. Still, he smiled.

"I have done what I can. The rest is in your hands."