Balance
I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.
Harper Lee (1926 - ), To Kill a Mockingbird, 1960
The blade of the New Dawn is its soldiers. None other carry as much respect as the clan of balance, it is they that take the lead on the battlefield, it is they that bring death to the enemy and victory to their House. They are many and they are strong.
A little boy that was given the name Ranchal was born just a year after the New Dawn had founded it's capitol Kathia. Eidais and Horesis would be an unlikely couple outside the city walls, a cimmerian warrior for a mother and a stygian mage for a father? Unheard of. Even more unlikely was it perhaps that the man that was once a aristocrat in the heartland of Stygia would lay his magic aside in favour of drawing a blade beside his wife on the battlefield. Ranchal Iss was the result of this union and from the moment that his Dathanars blade cut the infants hand for this father to write the boys name in the scroll his destiny was foretold.
By the time that his fourth birthday came around his crest was woven and his mother proudly dressed her son with her Dathanars colours on their doorstep, the blade that his father had forged hanging by his side as he was taken away by the Dorini they had both sworn their loyalty to. Ranchal missed his parents that night and he wasn't the only child to cry himself to sleep in the barracks that was his new home, taken from the comfort of the Balah estate he was to learn that in the New Dawn his parents achievements would mean nothing to him.
Training begun the next day, it was the first time he was allowed to pull the blade from it's sheath and he couldn't help but smile to himself as he read his own name etched down it's steel. He stood on a long row of children who were the same age as him, dressed the same as him with a cloth uniform under their black and white tabards. A girl stood infront of him, she had drawn her sword aswell and stood gripping it with both hands, pointing the edge towards him, a sort of scary determination in her eyes. Adults walked up and down the lines, inspecting their stances and correcting where there were faults and then "strike!" he wasn't ready and he got his first scar that day, a cut over the back of his hand but he knew it would only get worse if he cried about it and stomping his foot in the ground he continued the practice.
Day in and day out for the next ten years, the boy was fourteen when he tried to graduate to Shan're for the first time. He had made good friends with all the other children in his barrack by then and he was almost not sure that he wanted to complete his training and become an adult, a soldier for his Dathanar, still he did not want to be left behind by his eager friends. So he stood on a line again but this time in his Dorini's examination hall, and yet with the same girl infront of him that he had crossed blades with for the first time so many years ago. They had become best friends since then, after having bullied eachother around for a couple of weeks first as boys and girls do of course, but he felt closer to her now than anyone else that he had met during his training.
/t was forbidden to speak of the examination test so of course he had no idea that he shouldn't have paired up with her for this when the Dorini told them to find a partner, and he felt his heart sink when he was told that only the winners of the duel would be allowed to graduate, the rest, if they survived, would have to wait for another year. He wanted to give up then and give her the Shan're rank while he waited but she wouldn't have it and crossed blades with him anyway, he knew that she felt the same as he did because he had never beaten her before that day, he promised that they would be together again in twelve months.
But alot of things changed when Ranchal Iss became Shan're, he learned that his mother had lost her life on the battlefield and when he visted his father he would not be told that the boy would walk in his footsteps or otherwise be faced with the same pain that his old man now felt in his heart. "Live only to serve your Dathanar" he said and with those words till ringing in his ears the young man left for his first mission with the group he had been assigned to. He took his first life, then another and he wasn't counting them anylonger as March came along and he was allowed for the first time to participate in the celebrations of Damak.
Still a cold december morning he was ripped from the mind numbing guard duty on the wall as he heard his name called out by a somewhat familiar voice, atleast the anger was very familiar. He was scolded for not having picked her up like he promised to and he was quick to make the excuse that he had been on his shift and couldn't make it. It was as if the year he had spent building a wall to try to suppress his feelings for her suddenly had never existed and when he took her into his arms that damm broke.
He married her just a month later, after the wounds on his back had fully healed since he was distracted during his guard duty. His father came to witness the contract being signed by the two of them even though he had said he wouldn't and he blessed their marriage and asked the siblings to watch over them that they would give the Dathanar many strong soldiers.
Siblings
Ritual is the way you carry the presence of the sacred. Ritual is the spark that must not go out.
Christina Baldwin
Servants of the brother and sister commands the flesh and mind. It is their duty to interpret their texts and spread their knowledge, to protect their creation.
Lore
History teaches us that men and nations behave wisely once they have exhausted all other alternatives.
Abba Eban (1915 - 2002)
The memory of the New Dawn is written down and recorded, every spell weaved and every technology researched. Book keepers and writers the clan of lore ensures that the next generation will have the wisdom of the previous.
Hashan Lamont was just a baby when he was washed up in a basket on the Bank of the Khorotas River in Poitain. An Aquilonian child who carried strange tattoo's of ancient text all over his body. No one knows where he came from or who sent him down the river but he was found by a husband and wife of lower-class Aquilonian Heritage on a day that started his life and his destiny…
The wind swept briskly through the long grass and summer leaves of that day, the Aquilonian couple were taking an afternoon walk as they did every day when they heard the faint crying of a baby over near the river side. The couple were shocked to find a baby, of around 1 years of age , laying in a basket washed up on the muddy bank of the river lodged between a tree root. This was no ordinary baby… they immediately noticed strange black writing on it's body, however, they could not read it. Paying little attention to the markings the couple took the baby as their own and bought him up in their Hut in Poitain. Rumors swept across the town of the boy with the 'mark', many thought he was a sign from the gods, others thought he was destined to be a mage of great power. But his foster parents just thought he was special, and they tried to hide him from the towns gossip and their prying eyes for many years…
A misty morning in the Town of Zingara, which borders Poitain, thick fog envelops the streets and little noise pollutes the air apart from the occasional burp and groan of pirates who slept on the ground recovering from the night before. Goran Keshnik, other wise known as 'Kesh the Defiler', sits in his House-Boat just on the outskirts of the town wallowing in his greed of riches and flesh. One of his skulking advisers approaches his right ear with a soft and devious whisper, "He has been found, sir, Poitain north east of the ruins of Khorotas." A foul grin unfolds from Kesh's unsavory mouth, which sparkles with a few golden teeth amongst others which are rotten and cracked, "Gather the men, we ride, now!"
The sun was shining in Poitain and Hashan, now a young man, steps out of his hut to feel the warm breeze on his face. "Another glorious afternoon…" He says as he looks into the sky with a smile. Soon after a local walks passed starring at him with squinted eyes, Hashan looks down to see his shirt is open revealing his mysterious tattoo, he quickly buttons it up and turns away from the local. Long has he been the subject of discussion in Poitain, though most thought it was just rumors. Hashan closes the door of his home behind him to find a mysterious parchment attached by a nail just above the door knob which reads, "Hearken to me, all will become clear soon, when you hear the words 'knowledge is the path to infinity' you will have found your sanctuary" He did not understand or trust this note and threw it away. Hashan knows all too well of the stories about him, he has even heard that some people seek to kidnap him believing his tattoo is of great importance. "Probably a trick…" he thinks to himself while walking off from his home heading towards the river bank while deciphering a scroll, something which he enjoyed doing in his spare time. Hashan often visited the local library and researched ancient writings. He had an interest and a thirst for knowledge.
Hashan, while walking in the afternoon sun, makes his way down the riverside and finds himself in an all too familiar place. The place he was found in a basket. "If only i had the answers…" he mutters to himself whilst looking down at the old tree roots which saved him all those years ago from drifting off to a probable worse fate than that which had befallen him. A husky voice replies from the distance, "If it is answers you seek, i can help you there… dear boy" Kesh says as he approaches Hashan drawing his rusty cutlass with a group of pirate thugs trailing behind him. Hashan gasps and recoils at the sight of the pirates, "Who are you? What do you want? It was you who left the note on my door!" As Kesh moved close to Hashan he grinned and swinged his cutlass downwards upon Hashans chest, slightly cutting his flesh and tearing his shirt to reveal the tattoo. "So, It is true, I only require the text my boy… I won't lie to you… This will hurt…" Kesh says in wicked tone. As the pirate leader prepares to slice the skin from the boys body the whistling sound of arrows soars through the air and the groans of his thugs are heard one after the other as they are thrown backwards from the arrows high impact upon their flesh. From the river bank, behind the pirate leader, stands a man draped in a hooded robe accompanied by 4 rangers all bearing the same symbol upon their clothes. Kesh yells at the top of his lungs at the mysterious figure just before one of the mans rangers fires an arrow which lops his right ear off. Screaming in pain and grabbing his head he dodges another arrow and runs off into the wilderness.
Hashan, eye's wide with curiosity and gratitude, stares at the mysterious man who offers him a single sentence, "Knowledge is the path to infinity… My boy" the mysterious man lowers his hood with a smile. "I am the Dorini of the Clan of Lore of the House of the New Dawn, and we have been researching your stories for a while now. The boy with the mark." Hashan couldn't believe what was happening, "But i know nothing of these writings… How…" The Dorini is quick to interrupt, "You soon will, this is what we do and we will happily accept you to accompany us back to Kathia where we will study this text and teach you everything you need to know. You have a gift, even if you do not know it yet. The House of the New Dawn will instruct you and hone your abilities until you become a true lore-master of our guild." Hashan was overwhelmed and knew in his heart that this was the path that he was destined for, he offered the Dorini a nod and after traveling back to his home to say goodbye to his foster parents and collecting his scrolls and research he headed off to his new home… to Kathia… to the House of the New Dawn.
Nature
The art of medicine consists in amusing the patient while nature cures the disease.
Voltaire (1694 - 1778)
The land gives many signs , the streams and rivers speak and the clan of nature listens, reads. The earth has wisdoms aswell as power it is their duty to learn them and wield it.
It was a cold year, the last leaves had fallen from the Autumn tree's in the town of Duthil. A young Cimmerian girl of 18 years named Rylee Elvana lay on the cold, leaf covered ground singing a solemn tune quietly as she stares into bleak sky. Her peaceful seclusion came to an end when her nasty uncle shouted for her to get back inside. Rylee's parents abandoned her at a young age and left her in the hands of her fathers brother who she hated. He did not care for her and treated her more as a burden and slave than anything else.
Uncle Faras: "Blast it all, Girl! You would rather sit out here and freeze than sort out the termite problem indoors!?" Her Uncle yells while clenching his fist.
Rylee stands up and frowns at the man who has tormented her for too long, "I will no longer be your slave. I should have done this a long time ago, I'm leaving!" She exclaims before turning her back to her uncle and walking off.
Uncle Faras: "Ha! You won't survive 10 minutes in the real world! You mark my words, Girl!… hmph…good riddance" He barks at the top of his voice as she walks away from him.
Rylee breathes a sigh of relief, she feels as if a great weight is now lifted off her shoulders but is now also more scared than she has ever been. She is alone and must fend for herself. Curiously Rylee looks to the floor and see's a strange note just laying on the ground, she picks it up to see that it is a recruitment notice for House of the New Dawn. She smiles knowing that she has nothing to loose and ventures to Kathia.
A couple of months later Rylee had already joined this Guild and knew that she belonged. She was quick to take her first assignment after only a few weeks after being admitted and headed out of the city to find some ingredients. Happily she skipped and smiled and sung her familiar song.
After walking for miles in the Winter snow she suddenly stops in a wide open area full of hills and leafless trees. She steps back as a group of three boys of her own age approach her. "Well if it isn't nature girl" one of the boys stated with a sneer. "Where are you off to? Going to pick flowers and hug trees?" one of the others said before they all laughed. Rylee was frightened and all though had already received some training she was not ready to fight and did not want to aggravate them further, "Just leave me alone" she cried as one of the boys grabs her bag. She tries to grab it back but she is not strong enough and is flung to the ground hitting her head on a tree behind her. As the boys rummage through her bag they find a photo of her parents and make crude remarks about their whereabouts, they then come across a book entitled, 'One with Nature', which causes them all to point and laugh, "Ha, nature girl, think you have powers? You are weak"
Rylee looks up at the boys, a tear rolls down her cheek and her expression quickly turns into a frown. She uses the tree behind her to help lift herself up and then turns around and looks at it for a moment, a seemingly lifeless, leafless tree. She turns back to the boys and explains in a calm tone, "I know what the important things in life are, the New Dawn has taught me that, and *that* you will never understand" After she speaks these words the air becomes filled with a sudden breeze. Her rich red hair blows around her face as the wind becomes stronger and the boys look around wondering what is going on. Rylee looks down at her feet at the leaves which lay upon the snow, to the boys amazement they gaze as they see the young girl levitate slightly into the air, her body beginning to spin around as the leaves float around her like a whirlwind. The boys are blown to the floor and quickly scurry off in fear into the distance. The winds calm down as she watches the boys run away and her feet land slowly and firmly back on the ground.
In amazement the Cimmerian girl turns around to see that the leaves had returned to the tree behind her and it looked healthier and greener than ever. She did not understand how this happened and did not know if she has always had this kind of power but she knew one thing, she felt more connected to life than ever and she has House of the New Dawn to thank for it. Rylee picks up her things and head back to Kathia…Her academy, Her refuge, Her home…
Secrets
The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart.
Saint Jerome (374 AD - 419 AD)
There is nothing that they do not know for to their Dathanar they are his ears and eyes. The clan of secrets gathers information where it is said or written, they infiltrate, spy and murder.
A cimmerian youngster clutched his bow tightly in his hand, his palm sweaty. It was time he did
something for the New Dawn his parents had said. It hadn't been his choice to come along with
them. Where else was he supposed to go? And against his parents will? No, he was stuck here now,
and he was to become a murderer too. He almost jumped as a twig cracked under his feet and
quickly hid behind a stone, his back against it. He breathed heavily, the group of men he was
following had heard him. He was done for he knew, as they started shouting at each other in some
strange language, drawing steel that gleamed in the sun. These weren't some washed up
swashbucklers that learnt what they could from barfights, these were mercernaries. They had
taken a circle formation around the crate they were carrying, a crate marked with the New Dawns
emblem. He threw a quick glance around the rock to take in their positions and then quickly
stood up, his bowstring pulled back, though his eyes opened wide as the fletched end slipped
from his sweaty fingertips and he quickly jumped in behind a broad tree, hidden anew before he
heard a loud gargle and more shouting. A quick glance again around the edge revealed that his
arrow had lodged itself into one of the mens throat and he watched him fall to the ground, the
others closed the formation in his gap, shouting obscententies at him to lure him out.
"Alright", he thought to himself. "I have a mission, I have to do this." But then he frowned and
a mask of hopelessness came upon his face "What have I done!? I'm a murderer! I killed that
man!" He took a deep breath to hold back his tears and without thinking about it he spun around
as he heard leaves rustled and found himself standing infront of the two men, a throwing axe
lodged into the tree next to his cheek and he let his arrow go. It burried in the mans eye just
below the edge of his helmet and he fell backwards as if knocked down from the force of the
arrow, but never got back up. The other man charged towards him and he barely dodged the cleave
of his sword that cut the bark instead of his own flesh. The steel was stuck and in his
furiosity he tried to pull it out rather than go at his target, the boy gripped his wrist and
pulling him off of the sword hilt he threw him off balance, sending a heavy punch in just below
the mans ribs before he had him fall onto the ground and throwing his bow aside, he pulled the
two daggers from his belt before he leapt onto the mercenaries back and stabbed him again and
again and again untill they both were soaked in his blood.
As he stood up beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, the adrenaline was gone and he became
weary from his effort. Approaching the crate seemed to take forever as he couldn't look away
from the corpses that lay strewen across the leaves. Pools of crimson forming beneath them. He
had slayed them all, he wore their blood on his hands. With stained fingers he opened the crate
to see what was so important, what needed protecting so bad that he had to kill three men for
it. Inside was small vials, rows and rows upon vials filled with some odd purplish liquid.
Later that day he approached the city gates with the crates in his arms he laid it down infront
of the solid barrier without a word and turned his back to the city. Walking back down the
mountain road he did not want to go back, he could not see justice in what he had been asked to
do. Later that evening he sat infront of a small campfire he had made, a gentle breeze in the
wind made his fire flicker, the leaves rustle and the flames died out. It became dark, an
impenetrable void for his eyes as he was used to the firelight. He felt a blade against his
throat, a cold tingling sensation that made his eyes open wide. "Sharifal." Spoke a voice that
seemed familiar to him but he could not pinpoint it. He swallowed hard, the slight movement of
his throat making him feel the sting of the sharp edge as he skin rubbed against it. "I-I did as
I was asked." He said with a trembling voice, "I killed those men and I brought the crate back."
He felt the blade press flat against him. "You have not returned, you have deserted the New
Dawn." The youngster thrust his closed fist into the ground in a fit of rage at this "Yes I did!
You made me kill them over some stupid bottles! That is not right!" There was a pause then and
neither of them spoke, only when his chest had stopped raising and lowering so fast and his
pulse did no longer beat against the hand that was pressed against his throat did the other man
speak. "Those men were mercenaries, they fought you, they were prepared to kill you only for the
weight of gold in their purses. And the stupid bottles was poison, a new prototype that has
taken our research branch years to discover. By stopping them you ensured that this did not fall
into the hands of our enemies. You killed them for the safety of your comrades, how is that not
just?"
