Player: Iain D
Email: belmioch@djemity.chaosdeathfish.com
Caste: Druid

Belmioch is a druid living a little outside the Northern Enclave, though he hasn’t been seen by the locals recently. His age is unclear but it is said that he has a daughter, Sayeme and that he travels with a nimble messenger hawk. Word has it that he is attending the War Council.

“Did you hear about the storyteller Laquec? No? Well it seems that her son, right, the one who went and walked out on her and her copse-mate, that dashing hunter, Majen… what was it? Twelve years ago now… Well he came back, right after the terrible wave. Went around helping the survivors, searching for the missing. You heard that right?

“But he didn’t stick around long. Had some sort of argument with his mother, apparently. They’re both storytellers see… Laquec’s getting old though – think she sees him as competition. Anyway, just the other day, he turns up again with some girl. Says he’s marrying her in a month.

“Well that was the final straw for poor Laquec. She starts shouting at him but that girl just starts shouting back! The nerve she has, answering back to her elders like that. And when Majen tried to intervene, well he came out of it with a black eye, he did.”

She comes back every year, though the season varies and she never sends word in advance. And for a day or two, sometimes three, she can be seen sitting alone, back against Talioc's tree. And her words carry on the breeze, sometimes cheerful, sometimes sad. She tells stories of her adventures, talks of her worries, of her plans, and sometimes asks for advice. Whether she gets an answer, no one knows, and no one has dared to ask. I think Rowen once asked her why she kept coming. Her response, “She was my sister too. The only one I really ever had.”

Whispered in a dark corridor by a gossipy Teklo midwife.

“I never thought I'd witness such a birth! The babies are healthy, and so's the mother, of course, but what a sight it was!

“The father and the lady's husband were both there. She only let her husband stay in the room with her, though. You'd think it was because of modesty or something, even though she'd clearly been intimate with the father before. But no, that wasn't it at all! They were both there at first, but she ordered the father out almost immediately. Said she'd likely punch him if he was there, and she'd regret it later.

“Oh, yes, she's an angry one, she is. Tough as nails, though. Didn't scream once. Got through the whole birth by glaring at us all in turn and gritting her teeth. And when it was done, and they handed her the twins, she smiled upon them and then turned to her husband and flatly declared in a no-nonsense tone that she was never bearing another child again, and she didn't care what he said about the matter. He just smiled and kissed the top of her head and remarked on how it wouldn't do for them to travel around while trying to raise a child anyway.

“Then they let the father in, and she glared at him and stated, 'Her name is Tahlioq. T-A-H-L-I-O-Q. She can change it if she likes when she gets older, but we're naming her after my sister. And his name is Renjay. R-E-N-J-A-Y. After Verenjay, because even though he's gone now, he wasn't nothing.'

“And get this! He just came to her side, took the girl from her, and said, 'That is acceptable.'

“And that was that! From the way they interacted, you wouldn't have been able to tell which of the poor guys the lady was married to! And then, of course, everyone wanted a look at the children. The first born of the blood of three races, you know. They say they were conceived at the edge of the world. . . ”

Final Grade Evaluation for the Stiletto University for the pursuit of inter-species Chitha
Student: Malaq
Tutor: Aruleon
Notes: Malaq, I must say I am impressed with your work! There are few among the Becquerel students with artistic talent beyond the mediums of whittling and weaving. As always I feel your growth as an artist would be aided if you were willing to take more risks with your art. Nevertheless this final piece “Seaweed in motion” is undeniably a brilliant work of art. I believe there is little else for you in my lecture halls. Go and pursue wherever and howsoever you see fit.
Grade: Alpha

Around the peoples of Djemity and the Renaissance Republic, word of a travelling couple spreads. Two Becquerel, a storyteller by the name of Malaq Telan and his wife, Caleyll Miocha. They arrive in settlements, from the smallest hamlet to the largest city and, in return for food and shelter, they weave stories together of the Citadel meetings, of the great sacrifices made and the noble heroes of Djemity. From famed warleaders and undefeatable warriors to great artists and the ordinary people who shaped their world, all have a place in the stories.

And then the music that Caleyll plays grows sombre and Malaq speaks of the devastation caused by war. Of broken peak, of the great tidal wave, of economic destruction and most of all, the six-part weapon, the double-edged sword that saved and damned everyone. The message is clear: The next generation must work together to live in peace so that never again would there be such suffering as has been wrought over those three years.

Over time, word begins to spread faster than the pair can travel. Rumours of them are heard below the decks of Aquienos ships, among Kirlsa hunting parties, in the back corridors of the Teklo senate, the workshops of Sylphim artists and among the trees of the Seraphol.

“I heard they were both at the Citadel…”

“Yeah but she disappeared after the Arkhivians fell and he had everyone convinced he was a druid for three years!”

“No, no, don’t be silly. She didn’t leave; she learnt how to turn invisible at will! She was there the whole time.”

“Apparently Malaq’s personally spoken to seven of the Spirits!”

“Didn’t he get cursed by most of them? Besides, I have this friend who says that Caleyll travelled all the way to the sun!”

“That’s nothing! I met this guy in a bar and he said that his cousin was on High Admiral Andar’s crew, right, and that she swears blind that Malaq challenged Eumelos Wyrmhand – Divine King of All Kirlsa, I might add – to a warrior’s duel!”

“Did they oil their rippling muscles and wrestle on the ground?”

“Actually, I think the guy said there was rotten fruit involved…”

“Seriously? So he fought one Kirlsa? Caleyll took on the entire Imperial Chithana! They gave up trying to catch her and made her an honorary Sylphim instead! And then she took down Litha, Aquienos champion, single-handed!”

“Ha! If you really want proof of how brave Malaq is, apparently sometimes, at night, he goes down to the shore and wrestles with the killer seaweed for fun!”

When they do arrive in a settlement, Malaq and Caleyll remain steadfast in neither confirming nor denying the rumours about them. Sometimes, though, they are glimpsed walking up from the beach hand in hand, clutching a clump of freshly defeated seaweed…

And so some of our most notable heroes departed yesterday for a great expedition to explore the waters south of Djemity. They set sail from the southernmost point of the continent, the Deep Mountains a regal backdrop behind them. One by one, they boarded the Krumholz, beginning with its captain, the Artist Extraordinaire, dʒupəlʊ. Following him were the Becquerel Malaq Telan and Caleyll Miocha, storytellers who have been seen all across Djemity in the years since the War. Then there was High Admiral Andar'Guzel'Es'Fra ot the Aquienos. It is rumored that Caleyll went behind the High Admiral's back and got most of the Aquienos to convince him to take some time off and go along on the adventure.

When asked what they thought they would find, each gave a different answer, but most notable was Caleyll's assertion that they were going to the edge of the world, whatever it takes. “I know it's out there,” she said. “Or maybe it's not. But I think it is. And if there's one thing I'm good at, it's finding things.”

“Did they come back?”

“I don't know. But Admiral Andar is back, still among the fleets.”

“Perhaps they are still out there.”

“Somewhere.”