I found myself kneeling in the chapel upon Rogtilda, still offering thanks to Ra and Bennu for another shot at life. Since Jershon Herriman was the acting captain he made it a point for all of the crew to know everything about CrIsis and how true their mission was. This morning he gathered everyone except necessary guards and gave a sermon in the chapel celebrating the birthday of Xerx’ses Goldenhorn, currently the oldest surviving member within CrIsis.
Since the lot of us are sailors, mariners, pirates we understood upon hearing the tale of how Xerx’ses came by the scars on the left side of his face, shoulder, and back by a rival. The rejection of his affections toward his childhood love. The return to his home to find them slain and having to bury all that were left over five days smelling the burning, rotting dead – his mother among them. His promise to Isis to rebuild Osiris at any cost. Losing his brother to betrayal in Troker to the one that nearly burned him alive. All of us have lost something or someone and he was now no different than us.
We hooped and hollered as the tale of revenge he gathered with the help of CrIsis. His trials as a Lopaniad in the Games. His double gold medals and winning the Lung of Osiris. His standing up for his friends against Lopnel the Red God of War. Wading into the lava to save the sword of Captain Overkil, Callandor. His imparting a shred of his soul to Callandor so it will never be alone and grow in power. His desire to return it to Overkill’s wife and child so it may be reunited with its family.
It was that last part the struck me the hardest. He cared about all the families because his was gone like mine. I thought about “my own tale” and how I came to be here. I spoke with Jershon and he gifted me a book I had taken to the Temples of Ra and Bennu for a dedication to them both. I never thought I would feel faith again in the gods after the fire. I asked Jershon if there were more stories about Xerx’ses and he confided that he’s been given quite a bit to read and understand. It was almost dawn on the 8th when I left understanding every gritty detail. I am grateful he let me read his unedited copies of the Books of CrIsis.
I began writing down a plan since our mission is to support CrIsis. I decided to pick the bull and figure him out, given how much tragedy we had in common. Later that evening I confided in Honeysuckle, but the wenchy little Dwarf laughed at me saying, “IF YA WANT TO RIDE THE BULL GET A SADDLE SWEETHEART!!”
I told her I was not trying to f**k him but she kept laughing making a finger into a hole gesture with her hands! Well so much for talking to her 8 mugs into her stock of ale. I am finishing this back in the temple where I have planted a small herbal garden along one wall next to the tree. The blonde horny dwarf helped me with brass mirrors to reflect more light throughout the room for them.
Off to cook breakfast,
Written by Annenwen upon the 8th of Od in her private journal she has dedicated to Ra and Bennu.
Art done by AZ_RUNE.
“IF YA WANT TO RIDE THE BULL GET A SADDLE SWEETHEART!!”
Never noticed the similarities in the 2 until you pointed them out, but they sure have a lot in common….
always love the back ground logs filling out the stories not just of Crisis but what goes on arounf them
Honey was a wild child, I just didnt know how wild. Annie has a very tender perhaps hurt side that could really be explored.