Natalya - The Spirits Rebirth

[fozika]

It was high night, the moon rays were kissing her auburn hair, tied in severel knots, behind her head. She turned to her side, and observed the ground, in calm contemplation, as She did every night before falling asleep. This had been an eventfull couple of tendays, so much had happened, Whitewolf, her husband had dragged her over here, and how She cursed herself for letting him to!


Natalya spit on the ground, thinking on the city that lay behind her, with those stone carved buildings, and great piled up rocks, they called walls. Not a great hall for the clans to gather, all living in isolation and seclusion. Solitude, distrust, and false courtesy were their lives, She so thought.


What about her, now? Lost without a sense of purpose, without a husband, a tribe, a clan. Just wandering around, with nothing but her sense of pride. For a time She struggled to pay the debts of her husband's funeral, and elation came when She and her companions found a valuable artifact then sold it to the wizard in the city. Her share, she used for the wizard to conjure a cloud shaped as a wolf, running towards the North. She imagined it as her husband's spirit returning to it's true home, where all of the Elk Tribe lived.

She missed him so much still, as Natalya grasped at the bark, clawing it gently, seeing his face and neverdying smile, the great blue eyes, framed by white hair, etched on the treebark in front of her. A great spirit He was, and He called her a wild red bear. The wild bear of the Stonehold clan.


It was unsettling, that words like spirit, land, custom, preservation, and natural powers came to her more and more the past days. Even her Tribes rites and stories, which She never really heard or paid attention as a child came to her more easily, than before. Always quick tongued to tell them, always more proud about her traditions than before. Her father saying She would become the next. Her memory of how She laughed at him, and sneaked out to hunt with her brother, dismissing her duties to cure the hides and repair the torn clothing.

Becoming the next would mean replacing her grandmother, upon her death, and that was something She would not consider, She would never have the thought of that possibility marr her thoughts.

Thinking tomorrow was a new day, She pulled her fur blanket over her head, and settled for another night sleeping outdoors, just outside the farms.

She dreamt of her grandmothers rituals, of the spirits of the land hurt, responsibility and a new road to be embarked, of her destiny to be fullfilled, the dream became a nightmare, as She saw her own mother scowling and calling her a coward, always running away from it, first with her brother, then her husband and now staying in this land, lost without purpose, always running from it, as She put it, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"I...can't", was all She could say, I "perhaps still have him with me", referring to the small possibility She carried Whitewolf's legacy within her womb. Her mother then shifted her gaze into extreme sorrow, and desperation struck to her as She realized what it meant. Her husbands legacy had died with him.

"waste your years away or become what you were always meant to be." And in her nightmare, She saw the great spiritual Elk, which beconed her to follow, to a place where Natalya saw the great Tree, and it's roots of life, where the ancestor spirits inhabited, protectors of the tribe, and the land, nurtured by the devotion of the people. Natalya knelt and in allegiance, and drank from the waters of the tree.


Morning came, and Natalya felt weaker, sick. She did not rise from the bedroll. Her whole body ached, and her mind, was overflowing with new sensations. She laughed, at her dream last night, and prepared for the new day that was rising, thinking herself still too weak about her duel with that black hooded woman. It was just another day, another day She spat and spit at her fate, saying to herself each day kept alive, and unbroken was a victory.

She smiled as She walked, as every tree, every animal, every color seemed to her more bright, and in the corner of her eyes, She would tell someone was watching too shy to aproach her, and other ready to hurt her if they could. It felt like the forest was alive, and each entity was conscient of her, and those who walked in it. She dismissed it as her pride and self confidence returning, for those who are happy and content always see more of bright side of the world, than it's flaws.

[fozika]

She plodded the snowy field, gallopin freely over the thin white blanket, onwards, as fast as She could, feeling the wind sailing past her large snout, sweeping the large gushes of hot breathy vapour back into her face, as She caught up to it. The brief sensation of warmth across her face, rapidly brushed aside by the coldness of the air around her.

It was hard to tell where She was running to, this all seemed new to her, the land, the trees, the people, all She knew was that it was good, and She kept moving forward, each stride, felt like liberation, each, step forward, came with elation, because She was not alone, in the run.

Next to her was him. The great whitewolf with the blue eyes. It had been him to urge her forward, that has brought her here. She could bite, claw him, and leave him scarred but in the end, She sensed She could follow him everywhere, anywhere. Did it matter where? The how? It did not, He was large, strong, unique, and it was hers. He gave her a glimmer of hope, to escape. To escape from that which She left behind, to escape fate. Together they ran, to this land of plenty, to this land of the easy life, and civilization her people so much despised, carrying the sins of her people, to buy new beginnings for each, in the lands where the sun is not so shy to breath warmth into your bodies.

Together they strode, the great red bear, and the whitewolf, of the snowy steppes, but where? where? Deafening doubts, in her mind, that netted her spirit, and then her muscles, as her paws sunk more into the snow, and each step forward became harder. It should be easier, She was getting away from it all, getting farther away. Whitewolf stopped too, but He did not look at her, or her surroundings. He wore a collar of gold, and his eyes were blind to everything.

Then She noticed. The land had no recognizeable features. It all looked the same, every tree, every rock, no matter where She turned, if SHe looked forward, it was all the same. Natalya looked back, and the scenery shifted, too far away to be distinguisheable, all She knew was that She dreade what was to come, but to move forward, was to wade further into the ever softer ground, sinking more and more, untill they were trapped.It was to lose the spirit, and become as the rest, dull, equal, without spark, self delluded into conforts. And why? Because She was too afraid to face what trailed behind her? To be a true member of the Elk Tribe, was to keep running?

Whitewolf bit her arm, and tried to drag her forward, his patience exhausted, Natalya roared and snapped at him in reply. He took a step forward, then looked at her with a pleading expression, that could not have pierced into her heart as deep as any weapon could have. He was asking not demanding, He forsook all his heritage and ways, to beg for her to come. She saw in him, what She too had become, and what their own weaknesses and little self respect had brought them to. No pride, no honor left in them.

She let her anger speak for herself, to let out all the frustration and resentment She felt, in the best traditions of the Elk Tribe, and visciously clawed Whitewolfs snout. Surprise widened the piercing blue eyes, of the great wolf, then He growled and lunged at her, too, making Natalya proud. The strong emerge victorious from the fight, and are the ones who decide destiny. Tooth, fur, and claw entangled on each other, without regard for safety, both intent on killing, both throwing all their power and weight to subdue the other, both happy, as two spirits free from the bonds and shackles of repressed emotions.

It was calm and relaxed, as his last pants came in struggled, bleeding onto the snow, blood oozed, from his corpse, and into her paws, the red dishness attaching to her own paws, not going away, no matter how hard She struggled to wipe them clean, after She realized, this was to be the final battle between them, after remorse and guilt came over her. She did not mean to be so selfish, over him, over their future, She did not mean for him to die, not like this, not without leaving an enduring legacy worthy to be sung about.

Whatever tears She had, She kept them inside, tears should not wash about the blood of battle, blood honors the warrior who sits beside Uthgar in the afterlife. But She was hurt, her heart frozen, broken into pieces, then finally crumbled, onto the snowy ground, her paws too clumsy to hold the few pieces that fell into them, slowly sliding away, her eyes, scanning her surroundings, no clear path, no trail, no road, no marker where to go now. She came here after Whitewolf, and now She was lost. Up t the sky She wailed and cried out, in a mighty roar of frustration, and then down, the ground, where the wolf lain.

When She looked up again, and to her, back, fate swept it all away from her, strpped her clean, from the wild bear fur, She wore, from everything but herself, her true self, floating in a sea of darkness, calmly, relaxed. Natalya simply closed her eyes, and smiled softly, as She let her body float, craddled by the waves. She did not care what would happen next, She had lost everything. There was nothing more to do or to love for, She thought.

[fozika]

Natalya, after embracing her new path as a Spirit Shaman.

[fozika]

((please don't use any info from my posting to metagame))


Natalya slowly opened her eyes, the world around, still sheathed in darkness, but different. She looked up and realized it was only the night, another night in the strange land near baldurs gate, in the forest clearing She took refuge, before the new experience, and self conscience of her, mixed with the events of the real world, overwhelm her senses and drive her sanity away.

Still, She was not sure, if She was not losing her mind or not. Of everything She missed dearly her companions, Aloria in particular,whom She owed much. The true friendships are forged in the harshest of days. In her mind Derek Nightlund, the man, and his water that had a funny taste. Drinking water is bad for the health everyone knows that. Why drink ale otherwise? Ale kills all the nasty bugs that live in the water, waiting to eat your guts from the inside out, as mother used to say.

This was a path She needed to travel alone, to rediscover herself, and learn what She is. What She needed to be.

Sickness robbed all thought, the world was swirling around, and senses bombarded by all the new sights, and feelings She had opened herself to.

Natalya rolld to her side, stumbled quickly away, and hunholy sounds, came out of her mouth, that echoed throughout the night, while her stomach was emptied of all content into the forest floor. So tired, so exhausted, so hungry....

Not even strong enough to lift and bear her swrod again, as She used to, almost cleaving her oponents in two with one swing, a quick, clean death, Tem-pos be proud of her. Her body in a suit of armor was almost comical in effect, as her body had thinned down and could not fill the shapes and size of it. With a sad look, SHe gazed donw at her almost flat chest, remembering the words of her soon to be mother-in-law, when Whitewolf brought her in to the clan, stealing all the pride and joy of the occasion.

"She will squeeze the life out of any newborn, with those hips, and starve the lucky ones, with those breasts."

Natalya wished the old hag, had got herself impaled through a very sensible area by now. Without remorse or regret, blushing slightly as She pulled instinctively her breasts up, then rubbed her stomach. No, She reminded her brain, and illusions, it is not the sickness before the breath of life inflates the belly, She thought. Her moonblood had come on time, as usual.

This was a sickness derived from seeing what was not there. Wisps, flickers, the footprints, of animals and humans who passed, but did not leave a trace, to normal eyes of their passing, treeas that seemed alive and conscious of her, fleacks and energies formed together and seemed surprised when She looked at them, thinking themselves invisible. Playfull ones, busy ones, angered ones....there was no end to it, and her biggest challenge was how to ignore it, and keep her mind busy on the real world.

She need the distinction. When She was with Derek, She thought herself still caught in a dream, imagining a great white wolf, runnign back to Baldurs Gate, then out again, Derek saying She shone a light of her own, and then She did shine in the dark. Feeling cold, then not anymore. She still was not sure if that was all dreamt or not. Even Derek was breathing life into the flaming spirits of the campfire.

Natalya slowly made her way back ot her campsite, rubbing her shoulder with cold, after spending so much energy throwing up. She shivered, not for long before it came. That warm sensation, and gentle carresses like a mother wrapping her child in bed at night, and She could ont help but smile, in thanks, for her guardian spirit. It kept her warm when it was too cold, cool when it was too hot. He was a good friend, of hers, and there were others, the spirits who lived and were expression of the land.

They were happy She was here. They had hope. Like moths to flame they needed a guide, and for the first time, She understood, Grandmas words, as She said She was mother of all. The wisewoman, who considered her a as her grandchild, tolde her many sotries, which She made a point to forget, to escape that lonely fate of being the clans woman of the wisdom. Natalya had been told since little, She was destined to replace the old woman, and She fought tooth and nail against it, for noone decides the fate of her.

Only the weak have no fate of their own.

Yes, life is full of ironies, She mused herself, wrapping the furs around her, with a smile, picturing the warmnth to be from the massive chest and arms, of her deceased husband, Whitewolf.

"I'll bite the other ear off when we meet again, in Uthgars Hall, you rotten bastard."

[fozika]

((thanks to Joao for writing this, I really suck if you haven't noticed )

"I am returning to this land. The land that corrupted our minds, where life is dwelled by those without inner flame, and dreamfull of a life without anything happening.

The land is scarred, haven't I always felt that in a way, have I not told that to all whom I met? Am I the cure? Or the hand that conforts a dying old man, telling him, to die at the bed, instead of perishing in the battlefield is not without dishonor, the mercifull lie told by the compassionate heart, melted by the loves of a lifetime?"

"The answer is I do not know it myself. All I know is what I am. Yes, that much I know now. The witchwoman, wisewoman, storykeeper, the mother of all...but none her own. "

That was what dreaded her the most, the sense of duty and responsibility, the heavy weight and burden that everyone laid on top of her shoulders. The lengths She took to forsake it all and escape, to live with the carefree twinkle in the eyes, the broad smiles nurtured by the friendships and happiness, not that dull examining look, full of concern, and analitical, of Grandma.

She loved all. But at the same time kept her distance.

"Spirits feel close to me, and a companion for their loneliness. But I can't be the anchor that prevents yours and the rest from moving onwards to the next life."

Was it the sadness of a life devoted to solitude, without familiy, without affection, conforts, joy, that She ran away from? For what little good it made to her. Walking without a purpose, full of false bravados and courage, seeking death, aimlessly was even worse.

It all changed now. She may be leaner, her frame slight, her muscles not as ready to snap into attention, and ready to swing with fury at her foes as before, but as She looked at her reflection in the water, She saw a different Natalya. This one shone, as Derek said.

It lacked that restleness and eagerness that was so characteristic of her old self. In some ways She seemed stronger.

"Each step forward in the right direction, makes you see the world in a new light, even if know all you are leaving behind you probably won't see again."

It all seemed so vibrant, alive, now. She could not see the faults and failings in anything, caught apreciating the colors and smells of a living breathing world, populated by the seen and the unseen. It was that feeling of exhilaration and happiness, She had only felt after Whitewolf told her how much She meant to him.

With each step back to the land which saw her husband die, She was farther away from the past She left. Behind her were the greatsword, dented, scarred from the many battles, the armor, rusted and pierced, battered, testament to her own resilience. Behind her was a past, that led to a future She longed, and wanted to embrace, but never was really her own.

"I curse you fate, but you are not to blame." Afterall She had been running from what She really was and wanted to be. Noone to blame but herself.

"I will become one, but in my own way." And Natalya spit on the ground, to compound it, sending the small curious wisps, away, fearing her wrath, forcing her to sigh, and gesturing them to aproach again. Like it or not, they were her children now, to love and to scold, when needed.

All new, all a novelty, Natalya cursed all those moments She heard but did not listen Grandmas lessons.

A wisewoman without any stories and lore to tell, no lessons to teach.

"Well, I do have one, already." With a soft smirk, mixture of pleasure and defiance.

"The story of the red wild bear and great whitewolf."

"And how they kept running towards the sun."