R
Rainjay
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Original poster
In Mesym, there are no gods, only small deities of the earth and land, nymphs and dryads that bother not man and his mighty cities and kingdoms. Man is not to be controlled by unknown magicks or by the word of unseen higher beings. Fate belongs in the hands of those whose lives it effects, not to be used as strings to a marionette. The gods of old were abolished, destroyed, sent back to whence they came and forgotten about. Man is quite proud of this accomplishment, their biggest accomplishment by far, though they fail to attribute it to those who did the real dirty work.
The Seven Silver Strigines.
Seven powerful women, ironically blessed by the Goddess Nane who bestowed upon them seven silver blades imbued with the spirits of magical might, felled the Old Gods and Atysus, their King. But over time their story has been forgotten and they have become naught by fairytale, and the power of women has receded. A woman's role is to play mother, to keep things neat and tidied and in order for her husband and children. Stay two steps back, be well put together, stay quiet and hushed.
This story starts in a school of etiquette for young ladies. If your family perchance has the coin to send you there, it greatly increases a girls worth and her chances of marrying well. It is a challenging academy, but one well worth the money and effort.
Two of these girls, however, will come into possession of something much more valuable then a husband.
It was in the early morning that Mhairi awoke from her sleep to the sound of tapping on the glass window of her room, accompanied by a flurry of whaps and whomps against the stone of the Academy walls. Brown eyes wide, she sat up slowly, bare feet touching the cold floor as she stared at window opposite of her bed. Stark white against the dim pinks and oranges of the sunrise, an owl was clinging onto the small window sill, pecking against the glass, wings flapping fiercely as it struggled not to fall. As Mhairi rose to her feet and cautiously moved towards the panes, she spotted a green ribbon tied to the bird's neck, a small scroll of parchment bound to it. For a moment she stood there, unsure of what she was seeing. Then, after glancing around her room, she flung open the window.
The startled bird jumped back before racing into the room, settling on the headboard of her bed and making chirping noises at her. It shook out its pearly wings before tucking them into its side, staring at her, its head following her movement around the room. Stepping lightly so as to keep her feet from making noise on the floor, she crept forward to the bird, sticking her hand out to it.
"Hi?" she breathed. "What are you doing here?"
It made a cooing noise, then, leaning forward and offering her proximity to the ribbon on its neck. With careful movements she pulled the satin loose, the parchment dropping to the ground. She scooped it up and unrolled it in her hands--it was small, with elegant script looping across the page. In the dim light, it was nigh impossible to make out what it read.
"'To Miss Blackwood...'"
"'It is about thyme--time--that you were notified of ever growing presence of'... dark ethereal forces?" She glanced back up at the owl, who paid her no attention, grooming through its feathers. "'Dark ethereal forces awakening on Mesym's horizon. Although I am reluctant to call on the young to take on such a responsibility I have no other choice.... The bloodlines of the Strigines are muddled and wasted.'"
The Strigines?
The word was only just familiar to Mhairi, who recalled it from stories her mother told her in her youth. Seven silver clad women who fought and won battles against the odds, and possessed magic beyond all imagining. But they existed solely in stories, stories that her mother likely made up. None of her playmates in youth recalled every hearing a similar tale. And yet, her mother could not afford a messenger owl, especially not for such a silly message.
"'As one of the last surviving heirs with the ability of the sight, I must call upon you to face this evil that threatens the lands. Enclosed is a map of the hidden locations of the Blades of Power and Ceremony. You must retrieve your chosen blade quickly, to face the danger that comes knocking. But do not fear. Humans have fought hard to earn the right to control their own fates. These Old Gods are no threat in that way to you.'"
"'One other Seeker is waiting for you to begin your journey. Be brave. I will always be with you.'"
"'Nane.'"
The startled bird jumped back before racing into the room, settling on the headboard of her bed and making chirping noises at her. It shook out its pearly wings before tucking them into its side, staring at her, its head following her movement around the room. Stepping lightly so as to keep her feet from making noise on the floor, she crept forward to the bird, sticking her hand out to it.
"Hi?" she breathed. "What are you doing here?"
It made a cooing noise, then, leaning forward and offering her proximity to the ribbon on its neck. With careful movements she pulled the satin loose, the parchment dropping to the ground. She scooped it up and unrolled it in her hands--it was small, with elegant script looping across the page. In the dim light, it was nigh impossible to make out what it read.
"'To Miss Blackwood...'"
"'It is about thyme--time--that you were notified of ever growing presence of'... dark ethereal forces?" She glanced back up at the owl, who paid her no attention, grooming through its feathers. "'Dark ethereal forces awakening on Mesym's horizon. Although I am reluctant to call on the young to take on such a responsibility I have no other choice.... The bloodlines of the Strigines are muddled and wasted.'"
The Strigines?
The word was only just familiar to Mhairi, who recalled it from stories her mother told her in her youth. Seven silver clad women who fought and won battles against the odds, and possessed magic beyond all imagining. But they existed solely in stories, stories that her mother likely made up. None of her playmates in youth recalled every hearing a similar tale. And yet, her mother could not afford a messenger owl, especially not for such a silly message.
"'As one of the last surviving heirs with the ability of the sight, I must call upon you to face this evil that threatens the lands. Enclosed is a map of the hidden locations of the Blades of Power and Ceremony. You must retrieve your chosen blade quickly, to face the danger that comes knocking. But do not fear. Humans have fought hard to earn the right to control their own fates. These Old Gods are no threat in that way to you.'"
"'One other Seeker is waiting for you to begin your journey. Be brave. I will always be with you.'"
"'Nane.'"
--
Sitting in the dining halls of the Academy, Mhairi sat quietly in her corner, twirling the green ribbon around her forefinger and thumb as she contemplated what she had read that morning. It was unlikely to be a prank, but it also couldn't possibly be real. Gods did not exist. They had all died long ago, including the goddess Nane. They'd all learned about that from their history texts and lectures; it was almost a crime to not know of that era of human history. But that bit of parchment was telling her otherwise... and she couldn't help but believe it.
The map that had come with it was fine and detailed, made of a delicate paper that she feared would tear if she carried it with her. Instead she had tucked it inside of her dresser drawer, hoping nobody would stumble across it. She didn't yet know if she was going to pursue the marked locations on that map, or pretend it was all but a dream. After all, that owl had woken her from her sleep. It could just be a figment of her imagination.
The map that had come with it was fine and detailed, made of a delicate paper that she feared would tear if she carried it with her. Instead she had tucked it inside of her dresser drawer, hoping nobody would stumble across it. She didn't yet know if she was going to pursue the marked locations on that map, or pretend it was all but a dream. After all, that owl had woken her from her sleep. It could just be a figment of her imagination.
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