By: Katarine Posted on: March 20, 2005
Vignettes of The Seven Truths
1) Drive for Advancement.
The young Naga wiped sweat from her brow and gathered up the corpse of another monitor lizard. The sun was hot as blazes, and the sparkling desert sand only magnified the heat, turning the young Mhun's skin brown and tough. The hot western wind blew up swirls and eddies of sand that bit into every scratch and cut, and stuck to the blood and sweat, but she hardly noticed or cared, as the only thing that mattered was gaining the next circle of experience before sundown.
2) Cruelty, Removal of The Weak.
She crept carefully through the Manara Burrows, searching for her next victim, when a whimper from the shadows caught her attention. As she drew closer, she found a cowering Mingruk slave, and it whimpered pitifully at her cold smirk. She slipped behind it quickly before it had even realized she moved, and her whip drew tight about it's neck, choking, crushing until the last vestiges of life left it's pathetic form. She looked about a while longer, then left the place with a sense of satisfaction, having ridded it of the weak little pests.
3) Weakness Be Purged From Oneself.
High spirits surged through her as her mentor proclaimed her past the first task. Her next, however, sounded easy enough, but there was a catch. She was to retrieve a specific item from a specific city. "How," she asked, "Shall I get that? If I even enter that city, they'll try to kill me!" Her mentor smirked and replied, "If you cannot manage it, then the task will have achieved it's purpose, and removed your weakness from our midst." She half-frowned and straightened up a bit as he departed with a nod of farewell. Her stubborn, dark soul stirred by the challenge, she set off from the city once more, bound and determined to prove her strenth.
4) The Enemies of Strength.
The clear night sky and calm, spring air of the night was almost enough to make the young Naga forget the reason they had gathered in the Pash Valley. A sizeable group of Mhaldor's fighters had amassed in a secluded spot earlier in the evening, in preperation for a midnight raid on the city of Shallam. From their vantage point, the lights of the so-called Jewel of the East could be seen gleaming in the distance. Lost in her thoughts, the Mhun jumped minutely when her mentor stepped up silently behind her and spoke. "This is who we fight. The defenders of all that is weak, and innocent, that which must be wiped from the lands. Remember it well, it is likely you will fight them all of your life."
5) Gain Strength Through Combat.
She fell to the ground in a dusty heap, unprepared for the jolt of being thrown from the arena. With a sigh, she gathered herself together and put away her combat supplies, then thought back over the fight with the other Serpent. It had been over quickly, as she was still new at combat, though she had fooled him with her illusions. She just needed to remember which ones to use, and when. She growled in annoyance when she realized that the want of a goldenseal root had been her downfall, and marked down a mental note to be more careful of it in the future. One spar at a time, she reminded herself as she left the arena.
6) Elimination of Conscience.
A pity that weakness had such a pretty face sometimes, she pondered as she stared down at the whimpering Atavian. Shocking blue eyes filled with paralyzing fear stares up from a grimy, yet still beautiful face. She saw the state of him and of his amputated wings, and felt a slight pang of pity, and quickly shook it off with disgust. A frown crossed her face, and she let herself reason for a moment that killing him would be a mercy, a release for him from the pathetic physical shell. This she shook off as well, incensed at the spark of compassion within her. That would not do, she decided, as she advanced towards his trembling form with a sinister hiss.
7) Strengthening From Hardships.
The sharp iron end of the whip bit into her skin once more, and she fought back a groan of pain as she knelt there before the altar to Lord Sartan. Every muscle was tensed, and every wound opened by the whip burned as sweat of exertion dripped into them. Her willful spirit won the fight over her body, forcing her to stay still and quiet under the ritual flaying. Finally, the vicar put away the whip, and raised the sacrifical blade, the edge of it sparking in the red light the room emanated. She raised her chin, her eyes gleaming as he whirled the knife over his head and moved closer. In the final moment as the razor-sharp blade flashed towards her neck, she felt a powerful strength surge within her, more intense than anything she'd ever known. She smiled.