They march. Without rest or respite, without food or drink, in complete silence. They are draped in the finery of the ages. Robes of unfamiliar cut, primitive furs, armor of bronze, all of it is there. Much of it is strange and you do not recognize it. You think you even see some men bedecked in the silvery armor of the Bnaimokt. Some of it has been fashioned in the the ways of your people.
Some men wear robes of bright and garish colors. Others are more subdued. Yet no matter what they wear, no matter their height, they all march towards a destination they do not see. Yet it is one that you know they will never reach.
Your vision ends and your teacher seems almost glad. He is normally grim and taciturn--or perhaps she is better to say, for she now wears the face of Afra.
"A suitable vessel," she says. "An interesting tool, it is of little use in battle. Still, it will aid you elsewhere, to be certain. You are to tell nobody what you have gained."
"I won't even remember that command!" you object to her.
She laughs. The laughter feels hollow. It is strange to see Afra's normally warm face twisted into such a grim countenance.
"Your body will not. Your spirit will. Just as it knows to not use too much "clay" or how to use your true senses. Remember, you are more than your base matter. This is not so true of others. To know you have strange senses is not so great a danger--at least for now--but to speak with the dead is a rare gift indeed. Best to not gain too much attention too quickly."
Not-Afra reaches out and taps your forehead.
You awaken with a start. A dream is at the edge of your memory, just out of reach. Trying to catch it feels like trying to capture a cloud. It falls through your fingers and you are left with a simple sense that something has changed. You consider speaking with your father about it but quickly dismiss the thought.
You return to sleep and you are untroubled by dreams you cannot remember.
Time marches on and you continue to grow. Not just in size and strength, but your more... mystical senses sharpen. You can sense more, now. Everyone in the village has a Presence. Most are weak and barely there. Easily overlooked and often they are drowned out by the simple Presence of your father. He is like a bonfire, surrounded by sparks.
That Presence to the west remains as it always has, as does the Holy Mountain. Perhaps not surprisingly, your bow and the bronze arrows that came with it also appear to your senses. They bow itself is not so present as your father... but it is a near thing.
You cannot sense your own Presence.
In the coming months, your father changes your lessons yet again.He shifts from spear and shield training to general weapons work. Apparently, you are to know the basics of several weapons before you become an adult. The spear, he explains, provides a firm foundation for several other weapons and is traditional besides.
He has you work with longer spears first, culminating in the sarissa. The sarissa is a massively long spear. Your own people pioneered the usage of them against the Bnaimokt threat. They would stand shoulder to shoulder, sarissa held forward, and hold shields to guard against arrows, stones, and other missiles.
This formation had then been adopted by the Protectorate early in its formation. Normal men standing against the tyranny of the Blooded, it had been an excellent tool to defeat the gibborim of the interior cities. Now, most forgot its beginnings and associated it with the egalitarian beliefs of your neighbors to the west.
Following the sarissa, he had you focus on clubs, mauls, and maces. You found a certain joy in bashing things with a very heavy cudgel. The maul in particular could be used to incredible impact, though it tended to leave you open. The chief rule of these weapons seemed to be "don't miss."
Lastly he introduced you to swords and other edged weapons. The most common sword you used was called a kopesh. It had a curved blade, often made from copper, but the one you practiced with was made of bronze. You wielded a number of different swords as well. One particular joy was a beautifully made greatsword.
"It's on loan," your father said. "Greatswords cannot be fashioned from normal bronze. Their size is too great and normal bronze is too weak. High Bronze, made by a master smith, is necessary. A weapon such as this is the envy of many kings."
The first thing you note about the greatsword is its great weight. In the stories, the greatsword was almost always associated with great heroes who had fantastical strength. You understand why as you hold the weapon. It is heavier than it should be. Something about the forging of High Bronze seems to add to the weight.
The second thing you note is the Presence it gives off. It... is truthfully nothing special. It is less there than your bow. Or even one of your bronze arrows. It is beautiful to look upon, with strange patterns engraved upon it, but it seems mostly mundane.
Still, when you are done practicing with it, you feel a sense of disappointment. It had been an amazingly crafted weapon compared to the rest. You idly wonder if it is something your grandfather had crafted as well, but deem it unlikely.
In the end, you return to your spear and shield. It has been more than a year since you began your training. You did not gain significant mastery in any one weapon. You know just enough to know what you don't know... and to recognize the basic strengths and weaknesses of each.
You are nearing sixteen years old. You stand seven feet tall. You feel equally at home in armor and a dress. Your father's warnings when you were fourteen ended up being true. When you turned fifteen, some prince from a nearby city visited the village. He apparently wished to marry you into his line.
You had not been impressed. Nor had your father. He had pushed the issue, thinking to impress you with wealth, until your father had challenged him to a duel.
He had not killed the man. But it had not truly been a fight. Despite the prince's greater age, you suspect that you could have bested him. He fought as if he had only struck those weaker than himself.
Occasionally another man appears and makes the same attempt. Some are not quite so bad as the prince. On one occasion, a man from Kavodel had appeared, and suggested that if the two of you married then your father would not need to duel so many fools.
You had a good laugh at that and he accepted the refusal with grace.
In time fewer would-be suitors appear. You hope they have gotten the message that you are not interested in marriage.
Your sixteenth birthday comes ever closer. You know that it is at sixteen that a boy is considered a man. From the story of Ruth, you know some sort of rite is conducted and you wonder if you will be asked to do similar. Few women have ever been raised as you, and as far as you are aware only you have displayed the gifts of the Blood of the Prophet.
Well, you and several other women in Kavodel, if your cousin Ruth's letters are to be believed. Women began displaying the gifts of the Blooded in the last twenty years or so, and you are among them. It has apparently caused a great scandal, with accusations of witchcraft and forbidden rites. Supposedly, a similar problem had occurred several centuries before, where some heretic witch had attempted to kidnap the sons of the King of the time.
But that had been one woman and she had committed other crimes. As near as anyone can tell... nothing forbidden has actually happened. Some women are simply displaying the same gifts that men had enjoyed for millennia.
Several weeks before you turn sixteen you are given the news.
"We will be traveling to the city before your sixteenth birthday," your father tells you. "It is time that you see Kavodel for yourself."
Excitement fills you. You had heard stories of the city, everyone in the village had. Your father made several trips to it a year. Much of your family lived there and the only friends you had ever made.
"Do not plan to be there for long. We have a purpose for this trip. You will learn more when we arrive."
The trip itself is gentle. The roads that pass through the lands of your people are well maintained. Waystations are placed so that you arrive at them at the end of each day's walk. The waystations themselves are well stocked with food and provide an excellent place to rest.
The countryside grows increasingly forested. Trees that freely offer their fruit, birds fluttering through the air, and other wildlife become a common sight. At each waystation, the food grows fresher and tastier. Even as you go deeper into a forest, light seems to suffuse the very air, and a freshness is in the air.
After nearly a week of travel, the great Presence you always felt to the west was near. It practically blocked out anything else, overwhelming your senses. You cannot help but feel nervous as you draw closer to it. What could be giving off such an intense pressure?
The next day, the walls of Kavodel become visible. They are the largest structure you have ever seen. They seem less the work of men and more a natural geographic feature. Yet despite their size, they flow, working alongside the land rather than dominating it.
The walls themselves are made of a white stone. While you cannot speak for every side of them, the wall facing towards the east has a large mural painted upon it. It depicts a great demon of flame being slain. You do not recognize the scene from any of the Old Tales.
The gateway into the city is flanked by two waterfalls. They pour down the walls and flow into a moat that surrounds the city. A bridge lay across, allowing merchants and travelers to cross and enter the city.
You and your father take your place in the line. Lapurras walks alongside you. He comes to just below your knees and stands... significantly taller than ocelots are supposed to reach. Several people give him nervous looks but relax upon seeing him in the company of two of the Blooded.
When you reach the guards they simply wave you through.
You have been used to being taller than nearly everyone around you. For the last three years, you have grown rapidly, and now only your father is taller.
Kavodel is full of people taller. Seven feet tall and higher is not at all uncommon. Those eight feet tall are rare... but not incredibly so. You even see one man that you think must be nine feet tall! Though it is hard to get a read in this place, with such an intense Presence, you think the taller men have the greater feel to them.
But it is more than their height. It is the sheer size of the city itself! You have never seen so many people in one place, not even during the harvest festival! Your father sees your expression and laughs.
"As of the last census, nearly half a million souls live within these walls. The fertility of Kavoel is a thing of near legend," he says.
You are so busy gawking at the people that you don't even realize your father has led the two of you to the Temple. It is a grand structure, possibly the largest in the city, at least if you discount the walls.
"This Temple is more ancient than you know. The stones used in its construction come directly from the original temple in Zepath. Of course, more stones were required, but the foundations are of one of the first Temples ever built," he explains. "The altar, too, comes from Zepath."
The Presence of the building is clear and visible to you. But it is not the Presence you had been sensing since you were young.
The two of you enter the Temple. Your father purchases a bull and gives it in sacrifice, as thanksgiving for easy travel. From there you find yourself at a large home. It is not so far from the Temple and so it is an easy walk.
As you approach it, your friend Ruth comes running out. Without saying a word she wraps you in a hug!
"Father only told me you were visiting this morning," she says. "He said he wanted it to be a surprise to the both of us."
You gently return her hug and then separate yourself from her.
"It's nice to see you as well," you say with a grin. "I guess we're staying here, then?"
Ruth nods her head.
"Traditionally, you would stay with the patriarch of the clan, but grandfather doesn't really like visitors. Says it distracts him or something."
Ruth herself has grown taller as well. She stands perhaps an inch taller than you and has packed on muscle. She is still more wiry than anything.
Your uncle joins you a few moments later and soon you find yourself in a small room. You have it all to yourself--well, you and Lapurras. He seems content to laze on the bed provided to you, though.
You are in the city of Kavodel for the first time, at least until you turn sixteen. How do you wish to spend your time in the city?
[][Kavodel] Kavodel is a city of art and music, at least as much as it is war. Watch some plays, listen to music, and visit the gardens.
[][Kavodel] Kavodel is home to some of the finest minds in Ur. Visit the Symposium, where these minds gather, and see what you might learn or even contribute. You have always had a head for mathematics.
[][Kavodel] Kavodel is the home of your clan. Introduce yourself to your extended family and get to know them.
Which weapon type do you prefer to use?
[][Weapon] You prefer the traditional weapon of your people, the spear. It is a versatile and fast weapon, excellent on both offense and defense, though it is difficult to bring great strength to bear.
[][Weapon] You prefer cudgels. The various types have one thing in common: they allow a warrior to bring their full strength to bear. However, a miss might leave you open to terrible reprisals.
[][Weapon] You prefer swords. Associated with the wealthy and heroes, swords provide excellent defensive and offensive options. However, they often require especially skilled smiths to forge weapons worthy of the especially powerful.
