The Colossus
Deep within the dark, tumultuous waters of the storm-ridden Umbral Sea, where any signs of life have long been lost to the distant horizons, we push past the harshness of the open ocean and onto the shores of Storm's End, a massive, jungled island hidden within the eye of the storm itself. Upon these darkened shores, Zin'Rokh Mah'Tavin kneels alongside six other figures, their heads held down in respect towards the massive, hulking form before them.
"Today is a day to be called upon by the Stormbloods for generations to come. A day that marks the continuation of our stories through the likes of our kin." Cheif Uchitel Mah'Tavin, a massive Goliath clad in runic, piecemeal armor atop the glimmering patterns inscribed upon his skin, stands before his people upon the surrounding beach, calling out to them with a sense of pride. Zin'Rokh, known as Zin, turns his head ever so slightly to his side, looking up to his older brother, Sopernik, as each of the kneeling figures nods in a stoic excitement, preparing themselves for the trial yet to come as.
"Today, our children shall find their paths through communion with the storm. They face the dangers of the seas and the skies, and through this, they shall find their purpose within our people." Cheif Uchitel stands before the seven individuals kneeling before him, though their eyes remain upon the waves beneath them. One by one, he greets them with words of pride and expectation, dousing them with the seawater in which they kneel until finally reaching the likes of Zin and Sopernik.
With a prideful look back to his people standing upon the shoreline, Cheif Uchitel pauses before smiling down to the figures beneath him, planting a hand firmly upon each of their shoulders. The two Goliath figures, who maintain their stoic posture staring deep into the waters beneath them, look impossibly alike one another, though their differences are clear nonetheless. Each holds a massive build to them fit for that of the Stormbloods, though Sopernik stands nearly half a head above his brother. The larger of the two holds a sense of pride where his counterpart shows wonderment, brashness where there is thoughtfulness, tradition where there is individuality. Two figures, ever so similar, yet distantly their own.
"And on this momentous day, as the story of our people shall expand as it has so many times before, so too shall the story of my blood." Pausing, Chief Uchitel kneels down within the low waters and pulls both figures into his embrace, connecting the three through their foreheads. "Blood of my blood. My sons. I know that you shall prove my pride on this day to be far more than justified. Follow the storm and all shall be well."Reaching out, the brothers return this embrace and smile to one another in this moment of familial connection, their excitement bursting forth from their stoic posture. Standing once more, Chief Uchitel smiles down to his sons and douses the final two Stormbloods in seawater before returning to his position before the crowd, pausing a moment, as if expecting something.
In a sudden crack of lightning, landing but feet from the unflinching Chief, a hooded female form appears within the darkness of the late afternoon. Smaller than many of the others within the ranks of the Stormbloods, her hair drifts down past her face, where misty eyes can be seen surveying the scene, always watching.
"Ahh, Keeper Zreniye. Always one to make an entrance, I see." Begins the Chief, a playful smirk spread across his face. The age of their relationship seems ever-present in the way in which they speak to one another, though the Chief's imposing figure seems to hold decades on the Keeper's youthful appearance beneath the hair obscuring her visage.
"Mustn't allow you to get slow in your old age, dear Chief." The hooded figure jests in a low, wispy voice that seems to ride the very winds that surround the present Goliaths. With a momentary glare of playful fighting from the Chief, Keeper Zreniye steps forth to the seven figures still left kneeling in the waters before her. For a moment, the air chills around them as the Keeper of the Stormbloods, she who holds all of the stories of their people, simply stands before them, her eyes faintly glowing past the obscurity of her hair. In this moment, Zin instinctually lifts his head as a chill finds its way creeping down his spine, only to find the Keeper staring directly at him from beneath her darkened hood.
"You all know why you are here," she begins, as she overturns her hand to reveal a small, iridescent flower of a purplish-blue glow within a small stone bowl. "The burya has guided each of your paths, showing you the way to this very moment. On this night, you shall bear witness to the strongest, most potent burya that you will have ever known. The storm will flow through you as it has never done before. Do not fight it, lest you wish to be consumed entirely." As she speaks, her hands absentmindedly move with a strange pulse of energy to them, as the flower within her grasp is slowly formed into a thick liquid of a similarly iridescent make.
With that, she walks down the line of prospective Stormbloods, allowing each to take a sip from the bowl. As the substance begins to make its way through each of their systems, it takes mere seconds for the seven young Goliaths to fall to their hands and knees as the burya begins to take root within their minds. Slowly but surely, they each find it within themselves to rise, lead by the largest of the seven, Sopernik, who pushes through the rushing waves now reaching just past his knees.
Zin steps forward to follow his brother's lead, the skies above him shifting into a bright array of beautifully harsh colors that seem to fill his vision. Overtaken by the pulsing of the burya within him, Zin begins to step forward, only to fall back to his knees once more, alongside a number of his companions that seem to have succumbed to the effects of the potent remedy. Catching this sight, Sopernik turns back to this companions, to his brother, and pushes back through the waters, returning to their side.
"Get up, brother," he calls forth, holding out a hand with a determined grimace met with a purplish swirl within each of his eyes. "This is no time to fall to the waters. We must rise to meet the waves."
"You are right, brother," Zin calls back, grasping onto his brother's forearm as they work together to bring his large frame back to his feet. "This day is not one to be lost to the seas." With that, he pushes forward through the waves, as Sopernik picks up two of the other fallen Goliaths and pushes them forth as well. Together, the seven push into the blackened waters of the Umbral Sea as the burya continues to take root within their minds. The waves berate them and knock them down, but again and again, they get back up, until they reach the point where their toes begin to drift up from the sandy floors beneath them. With the realization that they may walk no longer, each begins to swim out into the blackened expanse before them.
Despite their best attempts to stay together, the harsh waters of Storm's End quickly force the Stormbloods apart. As the waves tear them from one another and the burya begins to reach its apex, Zin looks around the open ocean before him, finding himself to be completely alone, miles and miles from the distant shores in which he once knelt before his father. With this isolation, a sense of peace slowly fills his system as his muscles relax in the tumultuous waters surrounding him. His breath stroke begins to slow to a stop as he allows himself to drift onto his back and be moved with the wills of the open ocean.
Staring up to the skies above, the vibrant colors induced within his mind by the burya have begun to blend together, painting the heavens in beautifully intricate, swirling designs that cascade across the stars. For but a moment, there is peace like none that Zin has ever experienced before. The harsh waters seem to calm and open around his floating form, leaving him to be a lonely goliath protruding out from the still waters that fill his view. This peace allows Zin to breathe. Closing his eyes, the harsh scent of the salty ocean fills his lungs as the waves continue to pull him further and further from home.
This momentary peace ends as quickly as it began, as a massive wave that seems to form from nowhere crashes down upon Zin's unsuspecting self, sending him below the water's surface. The blackness of the waters consumes him as he tumbles head over heels into darkness. The surface dissipates from view as, in an instant, the peace of the ocean has given way to the void of the depths. Water fills Zin's lungs as the ocean forces itself into his system. He screams out, searching desperately for which way is up, only to uselessly push his way through the nothingness surrounding him. He fights the raw strength of the ocean waters as his own is slowly sapped from his very being. He fights and he fights until all he can do is give in. With that, the ocean takes him, sending him deeper and deeper into the blackness below.
Time passes, though Zin's muddled mind remains ignorant to this fact. In this blackened expanse, a place where the strength that the Stormbloods hold such pride in is all but useless, the power of thought holds dominion. In the silence of this oceanic void, Zin's wandering mind seeks his purpose, for how he is to serve his people, and in doing so, the stories of the Stormbloods come rushing back to him. Bursting out from the void, his thoughts are brought forth as runic incarnations of his people, of their stories, of their purpose. Blue ley lines of energy expand out from the nothingness as the Stormbloods stand with him, watching over him in his time of need. Zin's stories, his people, surround him, depicting tales as old as time, imbuing him with a burst of strength. The Stormbloods stand together.
As Zin stands there, upon the blackened seafloor, awe-struck by this manifestation of his people, a deep rumbling from below shakes him out of his stupor. The sands dissipate from beneath his feet and red, volcanic cracks make their way across the ocean floor, sending a roaring mass of scorching water up through the ocean itself. As the heat of the volcanic water overtakes him, it forces Zin upward more and more, until the light of the surface can just barely be seen. With newfound strength, he forces his way through the waters faster and faster, before finally bursting free of the ocean's grasp.
Air fills his lungs as Zin frantically looks around him, attempting to gain an understanding of where the storm has taken him. In the far edges of his vision, the shores of Storm's End stand as a beacon of his people, where they shall await him with open arms. A moment passes before a second form erupts from the waters below, gasping for air not a hundred feet from Zin's floating form. Rushing over, Zin's pride consumes him as the heaving form of his brother enters his view. The two collide in a moment of embrace within the harshness of the ocean as their success washes over them.
"Brother!" Sopernik exclaims with exhaustion hidden beneath a wave of pride. "It... It was beautiful, was it not?" Holding onto his brother with the grip of a titan, the two brothers support each other as their exhaustion begins to overtake them once more.
"Yes, brother." Zin manages to call back, a beaming smile spread across his face. "The burya has shown us a beauty like no other!" With that, the two exchange one final look between one another and begin the long trek back to the shoreline in which this journey began. Their exhaustion takes root within their aching bodies as the hours lost at sea finally begin to take effect.
Slowly but surely, the two brothers haul themselves back to shore, dragging themselves onto the rough, blackened sands, finally collapsing before their expectant father. There is a moment of tense silence as the two heaving forms await the word of their chief. A smile creeps across Chief Uchitel's stonelike face before thunderous laughter begins to echo out from where he stands, as he reaches down, grabbing ahold of his two sons and hefting them to their feet with ease.
"My sons have returned to us, Stormbloods," the behemoth of a man begins, calling out to his people standing that surround the beach. Looking out into the dark waters before them, he pauses before continuing. "And it would seem that they are the only of the seven to do so." With a nod to Keeper Zreniye, a conversation seems to be had with nothing more than a look before her hooded form turns from the Stormbloods on the beachside, disappearing into the ocean itself, seemingly unphased by its waters.
A few moments pass as Chief Uchitel looks expectantly out into the darkened waters before the now soaked form of Keeper Zreniye bursts forth from the sea, manipulating the waters around her to force the unconscious bodies of the five other figures onto the shoreline. With an uttered incantation and a swift movement of her hands, she pulls the water from their lungs, throwing it back into the ocean from whence it came as Stormbloods kneel by their sides, ensuring their safe return to consciousness.
Seeing the safe return of his people, Chief Uchitel turns to look back to his sons, who have finally found their footing and brings them into his embrace once more. "My sons, you have done well on this night. My pride shall be known all throughout our lands, for my blood has faced the storm and grown for it! With your trials behind you, your place among the Stormbloods will have been made clear."
Focussing his words towards Sopernik, Uchitel continues, "Sopernik, First of my blood, Heir to the Stormbloods. Your path shall be one of great hardship. Like every great Chieftain of the Stormbloods before you, including myself, you must leave our isle, our home, in search of our sister tribes." His massive palm, which rests upon Sopernik’s shoulder, slowly moves onto his bare chest, covered in nothing but the blackened tattoos that crest his skin. “You must learn their ways, understand their people, become one with our brothers as you have become one with the storm on this day. This is a great honor that you hold before you. I expect you to treat it as such.”
Zin, who stands to the side, looks up to his brother, to find Sopernik beaming with excitement and expectation, holding onto each and every word of his father’s with pure admiration. Looking up to his older brother with awe in his eye, Zin is caught off guard in this moment, as his father’s gaze turns to him, not missing a beat as his speech continues.
“And you, Zin’Rokh. As my youngest, you hold not a path of exploration before you, but one of glory nonetheless. While your brother is away from our people, I shall need a strong hand to act as my second. That hand shall be yours, my son. You shall accompany me to the many tasks I am to oversee, and when I am to require council, it is you that I shall look to.”
With that, Chief Uchitel releases his two sons, taking a half step backward, giving them each the room to stand on their own, though still together in this moment on the shores. He smiles down to his sons, who stand as accomplished Stormbloods before him for the first time, a moment that he has been awaiting for quite some time.
“And on the day that I am to step down from my responsibilities to our people, you shall carry on your own as your brother takes over in my stead. You shall be his guiding hand when he shall require it, especially in his early years. This honor is one not to be taken lightly. I know you shall find great pride in it.”
Zin’s eyes beam in excitement and pride as his gaze moves between his father and brother with a quiet, buzzing excitement within him. “Yes Papa Uchi, I shall guide my brother as the storm guides our very people.”
The three hold each other in this silent embrace as the Stormbloods in the nearby rocky cliffs find their way down to the blackened shores in which they stand, surrounding them in this moment. Chief Uchitel finally releases his grasp on his sons, who almost fall over in their still quite exhausted forms, as he calls out to their surrounding people.
“Stormbloods! On this day, we recognize the rise of our newest ranks as our storm grows even stronger! My sons, Sopernik and Zin’Rokh, stand before us, having faced the storm and grown for it!”
With that, the masses of Stormbloods encompassing the beachside erupt into cheers and chants as the newly reborn Stormbloods face their chief and father in the night. The two are lifted up from the sands of the beach and carried into the center of their town, before being sat before a massive bonfire that towers over their people.
And just like that, a celebration like none that these two young Goliath figures have ever experienced is had. The ale flows freely and the burya is shared between the tribe, though in far less potent doses as compared to those consumed earlier, as is customary of a celebration of this size. The tribe's greatest dancers perform before the two Stormbloods who, before too long are joined by their five companions in their recent journey. The seven celebrate this night sat before the fire for hours on end, though their exhausted forms find themselves dozing off amongst the raucous celebrations every now and then.
As the night draws to a close, and most of the Stormbloods have found their way stumbling back to their homes, Zin sits before what remains of this once massive bonfire, alongside his brother, as the two lifelong companions talk and talk through the night, sharing in their excitement for the future.
Their conversations wander, beginning with revelrous retellings of their trial and the visions seen within before shifting to the stories of the Stormbloods as the celebrations continue around them. Eventually, Sopernik’s eyes drift from the flaming bonfire before them and up towards the brightly shining moon distantly drifting overhead, its light beaming past a layer of clouds.
With the realization that he is to continue in his journey towards following in his father’s footsteps as soon as the sun may crest tomorrow’s horizon. With a shared embrace, the two brother’s relay the endless pride held between one another with merely a glance before Sopernik turns to bring an end to his night.
With that, Sopernik leaves his brother to stare into the cinders of the dying fire. Left alone, the final survivor standing within the remnants of a celebration that only the Stormbloods could put on, Zin remains, allowing his mind to drift like the ashes of the glowing cinders before him. He thinks of the future, of his brother, of his father, and as his mind wanders, he can’t help but smile at all of the stories that await him in his future.
In this moment of silent revelry for the future, Zin is forced out of his thoughtful state as a small rock, about the size of a baby’s fist, collides with his temple. Frantically looking around, completely caught off guard in this moment, Zin follows the boisterous vice echoing out through the night from far above him only to find a familiar form curled over in her laughter.
Sitting upon a nearby rooftop, Lyeza laughs and laughs as Zin is left to merely look up to her, slowly rubbing his temple with a confused grin. Her legs dangling off the edge, Lyeza sits high above cloaked in a familiar red shawl, her blue eyes shimmering beneath a series of blackened war-paints that cover most of her face, as though she had freshly emerged from stalking the dangers of this island's jungles.
“Nice aim,” he jokingly calls up to her, reaching down and grabbing the stone from off the floor. Recovering from her laughter, Lyeza gives him a smirk and nods down to the various stones lying at his feet that had seemingly failed to break through his stoic gaze into the cindering flames. With a hint of embarrassment to him, Zin smiles back to her as Lyeza disappears behind the lip of the rooftop that now conceals her form.
“Come on up,” her voice echoes out into the night, though her form remains out of Zin’s view. Pausing, he looks the building up and down before taking a series of bounding steps forward, only to vault upward, nearly half the height of the building. Grasping onto the lower balcony before him, Zin begins his ascent, finding all the right nooks and crannies that would allow him to continue his journey upward.
Reaching the apex of this climb, the hours at sea begin to take hold within him as the sudden exertion of energy imbues a sense of fatigue all throughout Zin’s body. As this exhaustion takes root and his grip upon the roof’s edge begins to loosen, his forearm is gripped tightly by a familiar figure hoists him up onto the root with a single heft.The two stumble backward as Lyeza pulls Zin up onto the root and the two land atop one another, face to face.
“You’re not tired are you?” Lyeza asks with a smirk as she pushes Zin off of her, taking a moment to dust herself off before standing.
“Wha- uh, tired? Why, no, of course not!” Zin quickly responds, stumbling over his words in the process.
“Relax, Zin’Rokh. Your trial is meant to be quite exhausting. It would not have meaning if the storm did not truly test the limits of your capabilities.” Lyeza walks across the length of the rooftop, sitting once more against the edge, staring down through the village and off into the abyss of the ocean before them. “Come, sit with me.”
A moment passes as Zin thinks on Lyeza’s words. She always knew just what to say to put him at ease while simultaneously leaving him completely and utterly defenseless. Pulling himself to his feet, he follows her words and moves to sit beside her, though his gaze remains not on the beautiful view laid out before them.
The two sit together a while, as conversation slowly begins to drift out from Zin, as they are used to. Despite her general aversions to conversation, Lyeza was always great at listening to the stories and quarrels that Zin may find himself to be in. He goes on and on into the night, telling her of his exploits lost at sea. As his exploits come to a close, Lyeza smiles to Zin’s raucous storytelling as his booming voice seems to burst forth, disrupting the peace of the night.
As their conversation comes to an end, Lyeza looks to Zin, teasing the excitement and delight behind his actions. Hinting towards the ease in which she faced a trial of her own only a few years prior, she says, “Well, perhaps one day you’ll catch up to where I stand, Zin.”
Leaning in deep, her face gets ever close towards his own and, for a moment, her stoic smile reveals a sense of desire beneath her normal unreadable smirk. Closing his eyes, Zin instinctually leans in as well, before her lips drift past his expectant expression, whispering into his ear.
“But you’ll have to catch me first.” The words drift ever-gracefully from her lips as she slowly gets to her feet and drifts off into the night, leaving nothing but a slight laughter to fill the air in her absence.
With that, Zin stares blankly off into the night as his heart pounds within his chest, left stunned by Lyeza’s words as she bounds off into the village, disappearing from sight. It takes him more than a few moments to recover though, when he finally does, Zin pulls himself to his feet, racing after the echoing laughter that trails behind Lyeza’s distant form.
Following the faint trail left behind by her footsteps, Zin does his best to keep up, hoping to catch her by surprise as Lyeza takes him on a wild chase through their beloved town. No matter what Zin tries, Lyeza is one step ahead of him, always staying just out of reach.
Eventually, through the exciting exploits of their childish game, Zin finds himself standing atop the massive cliff side atop which their village lies, staring off into the ocean. Looking left to right, Lyeza is nowhere in sight, yet again. Calling out in quiet anticipation, he makes it mere steps before finding himself being tossed face-first into the dirt, as Lyeza appears from the darkness of the night, grabbing Zin from around the neck before sending him hurtling into the ground beneath them.
With a series of muffled grumbling and an attempt to fight back, Zin slowly gives in before tapping out, causing Lyeza to slowly loosen her grip with a victorious smile. Letting him go, Lyeza pulls herself to her feet, reaching down a hand to Zin in the process. With a smile, Zin accepts his defeat, allowing her to pull him to his feet as well.
“You should be more aware of your flank, Zin.” She calls out to him, hefting him to his feet with a single upward motion. “It helps in not finding yourself caught up in such…. Predicaments.” With a smile, Lyeza brushes the dirt from Zin’s shoulder.
“Yes, well normally I wou-” Zin begins, only to find his voice trailing off into nothing as his eyes catch the faintest glimmer from just past Lyeza’s form before him. Squinting softly, he trains his vision upon the distant visage of Keeper Zreniye, who stands upon the shores of Storm’s End far beneath where he and Lyeza currently stand.
Despite the distance between the two, it takes Zin only a glance to know that the Keeper could see deeper within his soul than even he in this moment. Maintaining his gaze out to her position, the Keeper simply smiles to Zin from behind her hooded exterior before turning away from him, towards the mouth of a small cave located on the outskirts of the village where she is known to reside.
“You know, normally statements like that are meant to come to an end.” Lyeza points out with her head cocked slightly to the side, breaking Zin’s unblinking gaze out to the oceanic cavern. Not one to hide behind the nuances of conversation, she continues. “You seem distracted. What is it that bothers you so?”
Attempting to answer, for a moment, Zin merely opens his mouth, though no words come to him. Thinking back through the night, the image of Keeper Zreniye’s shifting gray eyes flash through his mind, as if cemented within his memory without his knowing. Looking to Lyeza, he attempts to make sense of his thoughts, before returning his gaze to the distant cave opening upon the shoreline, only to find the Keeper to have disappeared from sight.
“It- it is the Keeper. I think she wants something of me.” Zin manages in a distant voice before finally looking back to Lyeza once more. “In my trial, I could feel her eyes upon me. Of all the seven before her, she stared to me. And- and even now. She watches us in the dead of night.”
Following his gaze, Lyeza looks to the open mouth of the cave in which the Keeper calls home, though her figure is nowhere in sight. Without a second thought on the matter, Lyeza pats the dirt from her clothes and gives Zin a sympathetic smile.
“Well, it sounds as though the two of you are long overdue for a conversation. One that you should not put off longer than you must. Seeing as I wish not to be the force that stands between you and the Keeper, I believe this is where I am meant to leave you.” With that, Lyeza promptly turns to walk off into the night, calling over her shoulder to Zin one last time. “Good luck, Zin’Rokh. You did well tonight.”
Turning away from him, Zin is left to watch her walk away into the night. Returning his gaze one last time to the distant storms that forever encompass this island, Zin simply stands for a few moments in the chill night air before beginning his descent through the length of the village, ready to take on whatever may lie before him.
Passing the edges of the village, Zin’s walk through the dead of night continues on, passing the blackened sands where he knelt not a few hours ago and up to the cavernous abode of the mysterious Keeper Zreniye. Taking a step onto the creaking wooden bridge that protrudes through the water, a mist of a bluish purple hue drifts faintly from the entrance into the darkness of the cavern.
Entering this mass of smoking mist before him, the faint essence of the burya surrounding Zin sinks into his system as he breathes in the smoke, as though the cavern itself were a natural well of the magics that have been imbued within his people. For what feels like hours, he walks through the mist until, eventually, the voice of the Keeper echoes through the chamber.
“I have been awaiting your arrival for quite some time, Zin’Rokh.” As she speaks, the mist surrounding Zin opens up into a pocket of fresh air, revealing the Keeper sitting with her hood down, revealing an upward smirk behind the hair that drapes down across her face. Gesturing for Zin to sit before her, she begins to pull from the fog around her, weaving it between her fingers with ease. As Zin sits before her, he smiles down to her form as a childlike excitement begins to consume him at the display of the pure magics of the storm before him.
“Your fate is one that intrigues me greatly.” Continues the Keeper, her eyes kept upon the intricate magics within her grasp. “Your brother has been prepared to overtake your father’s responsibilities all of his life, and yet your line lies in parallel to his own. As far as my eyes can see, at least.”
As she speaks, the mist woven between her fingers expands and forms two lines that seem to be tangled together, woven into one as if inseparable. She begins to tug at them, attempting to find order between them, only for them to revert to their prior form.
“It seems as though you have more of a place amongst our people than previously expected, Zin’Rokh.” Pausing for a moment, the mist around them begins to shift and twist into the formation of a purple hued jungle brush, where the form of Sopernik can be made out pushing through the obstructions in his way.
“Your brother shall continue in his path towards chieftain as soon as the sun crests into tomorrow. That path would take him to the highest peak of Storm’s End.” Looking to Zin, she gives him a playful smirk. “This, of course, is information that you have no use for, I’m not quite sure why I even brought it up.”
With a wave of her hand, the mists around them dissolve into nothing, dissipating in a mere instant. Looking back, the path to the entrance is revealed, unhindered by the once ever-present fogs. With a nod of understanding, Zin grins towards the Keeper with that same childlike wonder that has been growing within him since his trial.
“Of course, Keeper. I am sure that such information couldn’t possibly be of use in my future.” With a nod of understanding, Zin grins towards the Keeper with that same childlike wonder that has been growing within him since his trial.
“Sleep well, Zin’Rokh. I expect great things to come of you.” With a slight smirk, the Keeper pushes her hands forward, forcing Zin up into the air, sent tumbling back to the entrance of the cavern. A deep laughter begins to emanate from Zin’s position, now lying within the black sands beneath him before finally standing and making his way homeward bound.
With the day finally behind him, Zin’s exhaustion begins to consume him, as he falls headfirst into his hammock of a bed. For a while, his consciousness wanders as familiar dreams begin to fill his head. Images of his trial and his people flash through his mind as he travels through the nebulous fog of sleep.
Eventually, as his consciousness finds itself overtaken once more by the void of sleep, Zin is sent spiraling into a dream of darkened storm clouds looming overhead. Standing before this rumbling mass of ancient power, its true visage seems obscured by the surrounding storm, as though Zin’s mortal mind is physically incapable of comprehending the truth of its appearance. Leaning forward, this stormy creature looks down to Zin with a thoughtless glare, as bolts of lightning spark out of its glowing blue eyes.
Reaching out a massive hand, still obscured by its stormy exterior, this being extends a single finger towards Zin’s comparatively minuscule form as a static bolt of electricity burns into his bare chest. Surges of primal energy are sent throughout his body as his blackened tattoos glow in a beautiful blue hue, sparking with the same electricity sent through his system. His chest begins to burn brighter and brighter as the scorching brand of energy seizes with pain that grows to consume his unconscious mind.
As the branding pain reaches its apex, Zin suddenly bursts forth from his bed, blanketed in sweat, desperately clawing at the scalding pain within his chest. Instinctually tearing open his tunic, however, he finds there to be no marks or signs of impact from whatever this monstrous creature within his dreams may have done to him. Sitting, confused for a moment, Zin is forced out of his own mind when the image of an empty hammock catches his eye from across the room. The realization that Sopernik has already left for his final quest before leaving Storm’s End for the foreseeable future quickly sinks in as Zin hauls his gear onto his shoulder and bolts for the door.
The jungles of Storm’s End are, to put it lightly, dangerous. Said to be an island built to house a long-lost race of giants, the immensity of the landscape is the first thing to note. Traveling through the darkness formed by the high-up canopies above, Zin cuts through the foliage before him with a hardened sense of purpose to his movements that only a man scared for his kin could hold. The echoing chirps and shouts of the jungle’s inhabitants sound out all around him, though they are sounds that Zin barely even recognizes in this moment of stubborn intensity.
Despite the dangers of such foolhardy action, with just a few hours of traversal through the floor of this immense jungle, Zin finally finds himself standing before the base of the massive cliffside from the vision shown to him by Keeper Zreniye as if having been guided to this very location without the need for a knowledge of the jungles around him.
With a tired pause and a deep breath inward, Zin begins his ascent. One handhold after another, the massive Goliath figure pulls himself upward across the sheer cliffside of the massive mountainous region before him. He climbs until his muscles ache with a remembrance of the intensity of yesterday's trial, and yet he persists. Higher and higher he goes, surpassing the heights of the canopies that once soared above his head, before finally reaching the crest of this arduous journey. With the end of his ascent in sight, the sounds of battle just ahead echo out into the morning air, forcing Zin’s exhaustion to subside as his instinct for battle kicks in. With a final pulling motion, Zin heaves himself up past the crest of this cliffside, quickly preparing himself for whatever force may lie on the other side.
Across the clearing of rocky terrain before him, Zin’s eyes follow the bloody trail of three reptilian bodies that lie before him, leading to the opposite side of this rocky protrusion where the bloodied form of Sopernik stands with his back to the edge as four more of these ancient reptilian creatures slowly move in for the kill. Exhausted and bloodied from battle, the two brothers briefly catch one another's eye before one of the beasts hurls itself at Sopernik, nearly knocking the injured Goliath off the edge. Just managing to keep his footing, he instead plants his back foot into the ground and swings his glaive out in a massive arc before him, forcing the creatures back from his position.
As though an unspoken agreement had been made between the two brothers of the storm, Zin and Sopernik each steel themselves for the coming battle as the ancient reptiles begin their assault. Splitting their ranks, two creatures race over to Zin, who promptly takes advantage of the first’s momentum to send it flying over his shoulder and off the edge of the mountain while the other charges forward, raking its claws down through his breastplate, sending a burst of blood across the cliffside.
Zin fights back and forth with the final creature before him as Sopernik is pushed closer and closer to the edge by his remaining combatants. With a massive, gauntleted fist to this creature’s neck, it is sent stumbling backward towards its companions just as the final two pounce upon Sopernik’s exhausted form. Finding a burst of strength within him, he lowers one shoulder, sending the first of the creatures out into the open air beyond the cliff, but is quickly caught off guard by the mass of the second creature clawing into him, sending them both tumbling backward and off the edge.
Screaming out in a fit of desperate anger, Zin rushes forward to the final creature, grabbing it from around the neck and using his forward momentum to jettison it from the cliff face with a resounding crack as his forehead connects with the creature’s skull. Standing victorious above the scattered, bloody remains at his feet, Zin uselessly rushes to the edge as a sense of dread washes over him.
Falling to his knees, the possibility of the loss of his brother fills Zin’s mind as he looks over the edge, only to find the hardened grimace of Sopernik’s barely conscious form, his fists thrust deep into the stony cliffs from which he now hangs. Ripping a bleeding hand from the stonework, Sopernik looks up to Zin with a tired smile as their arms connect and he is pulled back up onto the cliff’s edge. Collapsing onto the rugged stone beneath them, the two simply lie there for a while, breathing in the cool mountain air.
Looking upward, toward the mass of blackened clouds coalescing above them, the brothers share a nod before climbing the rest of the way to the top of the mountain where their bounty awaits. Though the final stretches of the climb are fairly easy, the exhaustion of the past day acts as a cause for a slow and steady ascent for the two Stormbloods.
Finally cresting the highest plateau of the mountain, the brothers find themselves standing atop the world, with a perfect view of almost the entirety of the island. Before them, a massive weave of flickering lightning floats just inches above the ground, forming into a dome-like structure that surrounds an area of soft soils within the center of the plateau where the bright blue petals of dozens of burya flowers shimmer lightly within the shadows of the clouds overhead.
Stepping forward, Zin’s curious nature is halted by his confusion of how to continue through a wall of lightning such as this, before Sopernik knocks him out of his stupor by placing his hand directly into the mesh of energy before them. A momentary sense of shock fills his system as Zin instinctually reaches forward to pull his brother from the mass of energy before realizing the look within his brother’s eyes. Not one of pain, but of peace.
With a smile and slight laughter, Zin steps forward and places his hand within the mesh of energy, directly next to his brothers. The energy fills the two with a renewed sense of life as they come to a deeper understanding of what lies before them. The arcs of lightning act not as a deterrent, but as a physical manifestation of the raw, primal energy held within this grove of burya flowers before them.
Together, the brothers step forward, into the field of energy as bolts of this manifested energy jolt into them, overwhelming their every sense. The pain is overwhelming and as their vision begins to blur, the power within this location takes hold within their minds. Their bodies beg the two to stop and to simply return to their village, but they push through nonetheless, allowing nothing to stand in their way.
Suddenly, Zin bursts forth into the center of this grove, released from the influence of the surrounding field. Relief washes over him and the pain begins to subside as he jumps to his feet in celebration, looking around for his brother, only to find him back within the field of static energy, having fallen to his knees as the power of the burya slowly saps his strength.
Without a second thought on the matter, Zin pushes himself through the field of energy once more, a determined selflessness empowering his every step. Reaching his brother, he kneels down, grasping Sopernik by the back of the neck and looking deep into his eyes, which have now been fogged over by a bright blue as the burya begins to take hold once more.
“Brother, you cannot fall on this day. Let me be the cloud that may watch over you!” Zin calls forth to his brother as the very same energy that has taken Sopernik now begins to consume him as well.
Lifting the dazed form of Sopernik to his feet and beginning to carry them both back toward the inner circle of this plateau. Carrying the weight of them both, being sapped of his energy more and more with each step, Zin begins to fall to his knees as he nears the edges of the field. As his vision begins to fade and the last of his energy is seemingly taken from him, a soft voice emanates throughout the field of lightning around them.
“And may I be the lightning to guide your path, brother.” Sopernik’s barely conscious form speaks out in barely a whisper as, together, the brothers push themselves out from the grasp of this energy and back into the inner sanctum that is the grove of burya flowers, finally free from the influences of this energy.
Kneeling within the soft soils where these burya flowers now grow, the brothers look to each other, with a silent thanks before reaching down as each begins to harvest a flower, carefully uplifting their roots and placing them into a pair of stone pots.
Having finished their trial, the field of energy around them seems to fade as they begin their trek back to their home. Their walk is slow and painful as the two bloodied warriors support one another with every step taken, but, eventually, they find themselves walking once more into the village of the Stormbloods.
The eyes of their people watch them from afar with an excited curiosity as the two brothers walk through the village, each carrying a trophy from their exploits. Finally reaching the steps of their father’s massive doorstep, they collapse to their knees as Chief Uchitel stares down to his two sons with a look of confusion and worry.
The chief looks around to the masses of Stormbloods that have now surrounded this central courtyard before his home before looking back down to his sons. The knowledge that, by completing this trial together, the two have broken their people’s tradition is written across his face as he attempts to come to a conclusion on the matter.
However, before he can do so, the cloaked figure of Keeper Zreniye appears to his side, catching the chief off guard for a moment. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she smiles to him and then to his sons. A sense of relief fills the chief as the keeper of their people’s stories silently gives him the approval to break the traditions of their past in this moment, as they build towards the future. A smile breaks past Chief Uchitel’s stoic figure as he looks back to his sons.
“This is an event unprecedented within the histories of our people. On this day, not one, but both of my sons shall present themselves before the storm! In time, we shall see who shall earn the title of Chieftain of the Stormbloods. For now, we celebrate!” The chief calls out to the surrounding Stormbloods as they all begin to call out in a raucous approval of their chieftains decision.
Once more, the Stormbloods break out into celebration for the success of their own. Through the chaos of cheers and congratulations, Zin looks about through the crowd of massive goliaths around him as his gaze is met from across the courtyard by a familiar figure. In this shared moment, Lyeza smiles to Zin with silent approval as the two stand there, staring to one another in the craze of the crowd around them.
chief of a tribe
Fantasy Art Shamans by Nakia
