The Bowshot King (A Nomad Quest)
- Thread starter Laplace
- Start date
- Original
Regency
PFP by vanathema (previously yubishines)
- Location
- Morioh Town, Mt. Ebbot
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Atil's dad, the kinda bumbling mystic lord
Here's the paragraphs about him:
always_confused
Perpetually unwanted
- Location
- SEA
[X]- The great Veli, Beksharbey.
LucidProp
Pocky Eating MafiaDoka
The Khan's sons are 2 votes ahead of Atil meeting his dad again. He just had his youthful sense of immortality painfully stabbed out of him, and it's been years since he last saw his family.
I really think meeting his father again will do him wonders, catch-up with the events at home.
I really think meeting his father again will do him wonders, catch-up with the events at home.
[X]- The great Veli, Beksharbey.
Theaxofwar
Definitely not a Bunny Cat in disguise.
- Location
- Standing right behind you
[X]- The great Veli, Beksharbey.
[x]- The sons of the Khan, Istami, Eren, and Illig Sahd.
Hope this L makes Atil a little less invincible feeling
Hope this L makes Atil a little less invincible feeling
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X]- The great Veli, Beksharbey.
Chapter Twelve: Childhood's End
- Location
- boundless optimism
In the great Veli Beksharbey's tent, he kept on his doorframe, like any other father, a series of notches to measure his son's height. His son was taken from him when he was a child, and no taller than Beksharbey's chest. Even without Atil, he continued measuring his son's height, with what he called a divine immanence of clairvoyance and what his wife, the Mete Han, called guesswork.
There were fourteen notches when Atil left, and there were nineteen notches this year. Nineteen was the year when the Serpi considered their children old enough to leave their father's tent and mother's herd. Nineteen was also the year when Hongchen Zishan bashed out Atil's teeth and left a terrible hole in his guts.
Beksharbey considered this somewhat important. Receiving a near death wound in the year one grows into the fullness of life could be considered a portent. Or it could mean nothing at all and it was only bad luck (another word for fate!)
The soldiers bowed before the Sudynn master, resplendent in his veiled, tall hat. He made a line towards Atil's tent. He noted that it was only sheer white cloth, stained and dirty, empty of any ornamentation. Around it, lying around like dogs, were the fifteen soldiers of his retinue. They held their heads in their hands, leaned on spears, and generally painted a picture of absolute dissolution and dejection. He furthermore noted that somehow, his son had transformed his jailers into his boon companions.
He ducked into the tent, but not before an old soldier with a rust red beard caught the hem of his robe. "Sir," he said with quiet desperation, recognizing Beksharbey's vocation from his dress, "can you say that our bey will live?"
"I can say that your bey and my son will live," Beksharbey did not lie, "I have medicine from the mountains. Now be of ease, and let me see my son."
Beksharbey did see his son, and he was first quite gratified to find that his son was about as tall as he had foreseen. He was not gratified at his son's pallor, how his blood leaked from his wounds onto his sheets, and nor was he happy that there was that old bore, Jigei Tolma was there, wiping his son's forehead and daubing him in ointment. At least he was proper, and when he saw that Beksharbey had entered, he stood up and said, "I will give you some space. I have prayed daily to Heaven that Atil heals but…"
"Atil will recover as the inner god dictates," Beksharbey replied, perhaps with a touch more harshness than was necessary. "Or he will recover as the skill of his physician dictates. Thank you for looking after him. He must have been a terrible chore."
"No," Jigei Tolma shook his head, "not at all, not at all…"
The father took his seat by his son, and took a certain organ from a certain animal out from a pouch. He fed it to his son, wan and ailing, and watched color return to his cheeks like a thief in the night, only more welcome than a thief. His eyes open, taking in the roof. It was long moments before his son's brown eyes landed on his father.
He doesn't recognize me, Beksharbey realized. That hurt, more than a little. He was older and greyer, but he was still Atil's father. Couldn't he recognize his own blood? He waited for his son to work the words. "Dad?"
"Son."
Atil coughed. Bloody spittle dribbles down his cheeks. "You came a long way."
"Not that far," he said, holding Atil's hand. "How's the life?"
"It was all roses and gallantry," Atil croaked, "until he bashed my teeth out and left a hole in my guts. I think he was the cousin of someone I've killed. I thought I was clever. I was going to lure him away and Istami Sahd'd cut him to bits…"
"That's a classic stratagem," Beksharbey agrees. "And I must imagine that he didn't fall for it, and you were forced to close in to prevent whoever he was from splitting from his squadron, or his main force."
"Ah… is this some Veli trick?"
"No, Atil, I have a working brain."
"You must teach me how to use mine. I've…" he suddenly turns and hacks out something red and bloody, splattering on the floor, before settling back into the sheets. "I've been skating on thin ice. I remember skating. Not as fun as riding horses but fun. Especially when you're on thin ice and it's so thin it makes this squealing sound like flutes."
He's raving, Beksharbey notices, his hand feeling Atil's rapidly warming forehead. "I could. Come back with me."
"Back?'
"Back to Lakh," Beksharbey replied. "You're a Sudynn, Atil. The tribe of the wise. Poetry, guiding kings, and the perfection of the god. This is all just… so much chaff. I would hardly rate your life against a pot of gold, no matter how heavy that pot is. We can make up for lost time. You have a brother and a sister now. Wouldn't you like to see them?"
"No," his son disagreed. "I think I'm of the tribe of khans after all. I'm sorry, dad. But I had a dream." Beksharbey's heart sank. "I saw a king, you see. One wing… it overshadowed the Moths and the Flowers. And the other, it was over the land of the Serpi. Our homeland. He didn't have a face, dad. It could have been… the Xige Angha Khan, the Tonu Tabgu Khan, or the August Thearch. It could have been me."
"You know you'll die because of that. No, you must know. If you've even studied history, you know that all kings end up with a dagger in their backs. Xige Angha Khan did it to the one before him and his sons will do it to him. And even before you get to that place, you'll die in a bloody field. It's just so pointless."
Atil smiled. It was terrible, bloody and empty of all human feeling. "We all die someday. I think that's what I learned from this. If I didn't, through my cunning flee the Moths, I would have been chopped to the cries of a cheering crowd. If I ran away when Xige Angha Khan sent for me, I would have died and so would you. We all die someday, dad. Dying on a throne or on a horse… it's not the worse of deaths."
"You're mad," Beksharbey said quietly. "I can see your destiny now. You will either be seated on a throne of skulls or someone will sit on your skull." He leaned down and kissed his son's forehead. "Luck. You shall need it."
His son grunted, staring at Beksharbey, shrewd all of a sudden. "You're not leaving?"
"Why so?"
"Well, I thought you'd disapprove."
"Of course I disapprove. But the father can't control the son for his whole life. Sometimes, childhood ends. The bird flies away. It's an ugly and brutal fate, aye, but not one without it's glory. But you'll die, and I don't want to see you flying away when I've only just seen you again."
"I'll go back to Lakh," his son promised, slipping back into unconsciousness, "if only for a little while. I've already got some plans, but they can wait."
As He Leaves, What Does Beksharbey think of his son?
[]- A Queer Pride: It's a sad thing that his son wishes to do, but it's also a grand thing. You have to admire it, even if from a distance. He can't be a part of it. Still, Beksharbey allows him to feel proud of his little conqueror.
[]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path.
[]- Fear: His fumbling at kingship will see his brother and his sister dead. He needs to unmoor himself from this sinking ship before Atil drags his family down with him. It's a sad thing, but the world is bigger than one man.
There were fourteen notches when Atil left, and there were nineteen notches this year. Nineteen was the year when the Serpi considered their children old enough to leave their father's tent and mother's herd. Nineteen was also the year when Hongchen Zishan bashed out Atil's teeth and left a terrible hole in his guts.
Beksharbey considered this somewhat important. Receiving a near death wound in the year one grows into the fullness of life could be considered a portent. Or it could mean nothing at all and it was only bad luck (another word for fate!)
The soldiers bowed before the Sudynn master, resplendent in his veiled, tall hat. He made a line towards Atil's tent. He noted that it was only sheer white cloth, stained and dirty, empty of any ornamentation. Around it, lying around like dogs, were the fifteen soldiers of his retinue. They held their heads in their hands, leaned on spears, and generally painted a picture of absolute dissolution and dejection. He furthermore noted that somehow, his son had transformed his jailers into his boon companions.
He ducked into the tent, but not before an old soldier with a rust red beard caught the hem of his robe. "Sir," he said with quiet desperation, recognizing Beksharbey's vocation from his dress, "can you say that our bey will live?"
"I can say that your bey and my son will live," Beksharbey did not lie, "I have medicine from the mountains. Now be of ease, and let me see my son."
Beksharbey did see his son, and he was first quite gratified to find that his son was about as tall as he had foreseen. He was not gratified at his son's pallor, how his blood leaked from his wounds onto his sheets, and nor was he happy that there was that old bore, Jigei Tolma was there, wiping his son's forehead and daubing him in ointment. At least he was proper, and when he saw that Beksharbey had entered, he stood up and said, "I will give you some space. I have prayed daily to Heaven that Atil heals but…"
"Atil will recover as the inner god dictates," Beksharbey replied, perhaps with a touch more harshness than was necessary. "Or he will recover as the skill of his physician dictates. Thank you for looking after him. He must have been a terrible chore."
"No," Jigei Tolma shook his head, "not at all, not at all…"
The father took his seat by his son, and took a certain organ from a certain animal out from a pouch. He fed it to his son, wan and ailing, and watched color return to his cheeks like a thief in the night, only more welcome than a thief. His eyes open, taking in the roof. It was long moments before his son's brown eyes landed on his father.
He doesn't recognize me, Beksharbey realized. That hurt, more than a little. He was older and greyer, but he was still Atil's father. Couldn't he recognize his own blood? He waited for his son to work the words. "Dad?"
"Son."
Atil coughed. Bloody spittle dribbles down his cheeks. "You came a long way."
"Not that far," he said, holding Atil's hand. "How's the life?"
"It was all roses and gallantry," Atil croaked, "until he bashed my teeth out and left a hole in my guts. I think he was the cousin of someone I've killed. I thought I was clever. I was going to lure him away and Istami Sahd'd cut him to bits…"
"That's a classic stratagem," Beksharbey agrees. "And I must imagine that he didn't fall for it, and you were forced to close in to prevent whoever he was from splitting from his squadron, or his main force."
"Ah… is this some Veli trick?"
"No, Atil, I have a working brain."
"You must teach me how to use mine. I've…" he suddenly turns and hacks out something red and bloody, splattering on the floor, before settling back into the sheets. "I've been skating on thin ice. I remember skating. Not as fun as riding horses but fun. Especially when you're on thin ice and it's so thin it makes this squealing sound like flutes."
He's raving, Beksharbey notices, his hand feeling Atil's rapidly warming forehead. "I could. Come back with me."
"Back?'
"Back to Lakh," Beksharbey replied. "You're a Sudynn, Atil. The tribe of the wise. Poetry, guiding kings, and the perfection of the god. This is all just… so much chaff. I would hardly rate your life against a pot of gold, no matter how heavy that pot is. We can make up for lost time. You have a brother and a sister now. Wouldn't you like to see them?"
"No," his son disagreed. "I think I'm of the tribe of khans after all. I'm sorry, dad. But I had a dream." Beksharbey's heart sank. "I saw a king, you see. One wing… it overshadowed the Moths and the Flowers. And the other, it was over the land of the Serpi. Our homeland. He didn't have a face, dad. It could have been… the Xige Angha Khan, the Tonu Tabgu Khan, or the August Thearch. It could have been me."
"You know you'll die because of that. No, you must know. If you've even studied history, you know that all kings end up with a dagger in their backs. Xige Angha Khan did it to the one before him and his sons will do it to him. And even before you get to that place, you'll die in a bloody field. It's just so pointless."
Atil smiled. It was terrible, bloody and empty of all human feeling. "We all die someday. I think that's what I learned from this. If I didn't, through my cunning flee the Moths, I would have been chopped to the cries of a cheering crowd. If I ran away when Xige Angha Khan sent for me, I would have died and so would you. We all die someday, dad. Dying on a throne or on a horse… it's not the worse of deaths."
"You're mad," Beksharbey said quietly. "I can see your destiny now. You will either be seated on a throne of skulls or someone will sit on your skull." He leaned down and kissed his son's forehead. "Luck. You shall need it."
His son grunted, staring at Beksharbey, shrewd all of a sudden. "You're not leaving?"
"Why so?"
"Well, I thought you'd disapprove."
"Of course I disapprove. But the father can't control the son for his whole life. Sometimes, childhood ends. The bird flies away. It's an ugly and brutal fate, aye, but not one without it's glory. But you'll die, and I don't want to see you flying away when I've only just seen you again."
"I'll go back to Lakh," his son promised, slipping back into unconsciousness, "if only for a little while. I've already got some plans, but they can wait."
As He Leaves, What Does Beksharbey think of his son?
[]- A Queer Pride: It's a sad thing that his son wishes to do, but it's also a grand thing. You have to admire it, even if from a distance. He can't be a part of it. Still, Beksharbey allows him to feel proud of his little conqueror.
[]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path.
[]- Fear: His fumbling at kingship will see his brother and his sister dead. He needs to unmoor himself from this sinking ship before Atil drags his family down with him. It's a sad thing, but the world is bigger than one man.
Last edited:
- Location
- Wörms, the half continent
[X]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path.
Our father seems to be a good man, a true rarity in these places. It is not the wont of good men to survive, but while he does, let us learn what we can.
Our father seems to be a good man, a true rarity in these places. It is not the wont of good men to survive, but while he does, let us learn what we can.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Missing... something... here, and it feels potentially important for how he read the overall situation..
[x]- Fear: His fumbling at kingship will see his brother and his sister dead. He needs to unmoor himself from this sinking ship before Atil drags his family down with him. It's a sad thing, but the world is bigger than one man.
- Location
- New York
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path.
Regency
PFP by vanathema (previously yubishines)
- Location
- Morioh Town, Mt. Ebbot
- Pronouns
- They/Them
...y'know, dad's guesses been somewhat correct during this quest. Tho I suppose instead of divine blessing it could "just" be a very sharp mimd
Heck yeah
Oh...
Good choice Atil
[X]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path.
Not gonna work on Atil, but atleast it will impart valuable lessons.
Also, long overdue father-son bonding moments.
[X]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path
It's always good to have wise council there to temper young ambition. Even better when it's coming from family.
It's always good to have wise council there to temper young ambition. Even better when it's coming from family.
- Location
- USA
[x]- A Queer Pride
Theaxofwar
Definitely not a Bunny Cat in disguise.
- Location
- Standing right behind you
[X]- A Queer Pride: It's a sad thing that his son wishes to do, but it's also a grand thing. You have to admire it, even if from a distance. He can't be a part of it. Still, Beksharbey allows him to feel proud of his little conqueror.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path.
DocMatoi
Theoretical Lover of Girls
- Location
- within 2 hours of the White House
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[x]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path.
the love of a father for his son
the love of a father for his son
[X]- Sad Desperation: Beksharbey is afraid that his son will not turn to the way of the wise. The world is replete with kings. Wise men, less so. He should stay with him to turn him away from his path.