[Yunari] Gifts and Offerings
I've been learning.
Fire was the first to speak to me, maybe because I sought it out. Its requests are simple, yet challenging. Rarities and things of quality seem to be its preference: a particular wood, dried and aged just so; a fine woollen robe that would have kept me warm as fall approaches; the best parts of our latest kill. It seems amused by my cooking, perhaps considering each of my attempts an awkward offering to it.
Earth is more enigmatic, much less forthcoming about its desires. In exchange for its help, I've led Tashorr to camps of goblins, to dwarven dig sites, to those who defile the stone and earth. Besides relieving the strain it must feel at these intrusions, the fighting also seems to satisfy a certain thirst for blood. I bury the bodies, offering the earth strength from their flesh.
Water. Confusing to me, gentler than the others but no less forceful. It is more specific than earth, but more demanding than fire. I destroy tainted spirits, remove the dead stag poisoning a stream, and (strangest and least pleasant of all) find myself making sure that waste pits won't flood or seep into the fresh water beneath the ground. I'm not patient with its demands, and it responds to my call with a sense of mild irritation.
Air has not yet spoken to me, though I try to catch its notice. The wind is strong up on the mountaintops, and I try to draw its attention with color. I knot bright cloths together, lay out pieces of mirrored glass, offer painted designs laid out before the sky. I hope it answers me soon. Perhaps it has, and I do not yet possess the skill to hear and answer in return.
The orcs believe in another spirit as well, the wilds. It seems strange to me to think that all living things might share a common spirit, but perhaps it is more of a guardian. It too is silent. In time, I hope, I will understand its wants as well.
For now, I feed the fire another stick of wood.
Fire was the first to speak to me, maybe because I sought it out. Its requests are simple, yet challenging. Rarities and things of quality seem to be its preference: a particular wood, dried and aged just so; a fine woollen robe that would have kept me warm as fall approaches; the best parts of our latest kill. It seems amused by my cooking, perhaps considering each of my attempts an awkward offering to it.
Earth is more enigmatic, much less forthcoming about its desires. In exchange for its help, I've led Tashorr to camps of goblins, to dwarven dig sites, to those who defile the stone and earth. Besides relieving the strain it must feel at these intrusions, the fighting also seems to satisfy a certain thirst for blood. I bury the bodies, offering the earth strength from their flesh.
Water. Confusing to me, gentler than the others but no less forceful. It is more specific than earth, but more demanding than fire. I destroy tainted spirits, remove the dead stag poisoning a stream, and (strangest and least pleasant of all) find myself making sure that waste pits won't flood or seep into the fresh water beneath the ground. I'm not patient with its demands, and it responds to my call with a sense of mild irritation.
Air has not yet spoken to me, though I try to catch its notice. The wind is strong up on the mountaintops, and I try to draw its attention with color. I knot bright cloths together, lay out pieces of mirrored glass, offer painted designs laid out before the sky. I hope it answers me soon. Perhaps it has, and I do not yet possess the skill to hear and answer in return.
The orcs believe in another spirit as well, the wilds. It seems strange to me to think that all living things might share a common spirit, but perhaps it is more of a guardian. It too is silent. In time, I hope, I will understand its wants as well.
For now, I feed the fire another stick of wood.