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About Mwatuangi

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  • Birthday 11/10/85

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  • Gender Not Telling
  • Location The Far Shores
  • Interests Writing, editing, minecrafting, modding, reviewing games, and other random things.

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Mwatuangi's Activity

  1. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Yoku exterior set - towns & ruins   

    That's just the thing; Yoku culture is not  inherently nostalgic, nor are their traditions "primitive", any more than Dunmeri who remain devoted to the Tribunal are or the Nords who honor Ysgramor. They're very much alive and present within their society, even if some of them have changed over the years. There are obviously the extreme ultranationalists who latch on to idealized myths about Yokuda, but those often unrealistic narratives aren't integral to how they conceptualize their heritage overall. Societies adapt, and in tandem with this, so do their traditions, which we intend to show. It's also important to remember - both in Bethsoft and BS' house lore -that Yokuda was not homogenous at all, but a realm with countless societies, some of which were often rivals that warred with each other. While those multiplicities were condensed into the chief social groups - Dunedwellers, Forbears, and Crowns, for instance - even the nations that adhere to those philosophies have regional and ideological variations, not to forget Nedic influences that have persisted amongst others, especially in cosmopolitan areas like Sentinel. Even the architecture carries these distinctions; Rihad, while also being staunchly Forbear, looks absolutely nothing like Sentinel.

    I think it's also worth noting that the Walkabout is a concept clearly inspired by the indigenous Aboriginal tradition of the same name; I wouldn't be surprised if one could find other traditions within TES lore with analogues in the real world, so I wouldn't necessarily consider anything to be too fantastical to be grounded in the real per say. There's an old Hindu epic that could easily pass as science fiction. You might just be surprised if one searches hard enough. Love your energy and enthusiasm though!
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  2. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic LOTR PROJECT ( RECRUITING )   

    MeMod wasn't C&D'd. They chose to preemptively halt it instead of risk legal issues.
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  3. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Yoku exterior set - towns & ruins   

    I think it's worth noting that Yoku style is distinct and won't be purely arabic. We have a lot of unique stuff planned that will easily distinguish it from simply being an arabic copypasta, as they are more than simply that; there are the obvious Arabic and African elements, but there are Asian influences as well, for instance. TES obviously has strong influences as far as its cultures are depicted but in the best cases - like the Mesoamerican aesthetic and conventions of the Argonians - can be seen as more of an homage in contrast to the Nords.

    I think some of those patterns would be a bit too noisy on buildings and overpower the player, especially given how big some of the  cities are. I prefer a mixture -see the small steps and entranceway, which have tiles patterned with Yoku symbols as an example. The doors and the minaret have  engravings on them as well. It accents the architecture and helps to define it. I imagine the huts with straw roofs could be something more suitable as inspiration for dunedweller settlements.
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  4. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Yoku exterior set - towns & ruins   

    I just realized that the stairs of the Yoku house have those symbols on them. A very nice, subtle touch that says a lot about the culture without saying too much!
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  5. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Primer: The Abecean Isles   

    Fantastic write-up! I always imagined in headcanon that Raga attitudes toward magick in Stros M'kai would be fairly distinct from the traditional views that Raga have.
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  6. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Primer: Sentinel   

    Gotcha. That makes sense then. I could see a particular group participating in the practice. Thanks for clarifying that, and keep up the great work!
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  7. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Primer: Sentinel   

    I like what I see so far. Some thoughts:

    Re: Dzeno-gyoko, sounds a bit out of character for Sentinese women. Forebears are traditionally open to incorporating other customs and influences into their culture, but nonetheless maintain their own sense of identity. As the Breton women do not, to my knowledge, engage in such a practice, it would make no sense for Sentinese women to do so. Perhaps incorporating fashion, etiquette, and other behavior Breton women have into their own lifestyles that they admire, but certainly not painting their faces to be Breton women. To do so would betray how the Sentinese view themselves according to what you're putting forth, as a unique society of diverse people who represent the best of their respective heritages complementing each other. I do like the notion of masquerades you suggested perhaps as an element of the aristocracy, as well. I also think the inclusion of Covens that have fused Yokudan-Nedic customs as an alternative to this is especially ingenious.

    Is "autokrator" meant to be a Yoku word? If so, there's "Yokeda", which essentially means the same.

    I also appreciate in your characterization of the Fourth Era political relations between the Crowns and Forebears that you aren't turning them into Raga Stormcloaks and Imperials.
    EDIT: One discrepancy I noticed references the Night of Green Fire. I like the idea of there being some sort of reminder in the area of the event, but it's important to note that as of the current time, the event in question happened in 4e 42, so over a century ago. It would be highly likely that the remainder of the temple of Xarxes was either restored or repurposed by the time of Raguda's independence. Perhaps a some sort of tribute to that historical event to commemorate it could also be found there?

    That said, I love what you've done. You've made a pretty sprawling, intriguing narrative and even managed to succintly interweave the events of ESO - I was always curious about IB's stance on incorporating said-lore, given it's reputation around these parts - in a means that feels organic. I think this write-up definitely gives us plenty of room and inspiration as far as questlines, etc., are concerned.
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  8. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Noble House Sigils   

    Great work as usual! Can't wait to see how the finished product turns out.
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  9. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Primer: Sentinel   

    "This belief in the superiority of their customs as the superior middle ground has on several occasions throughout history found an unfortunately racialised expression in the belief that Sentinese, as descendants of both Yokudans and (via Bretons) Altmer, carry “the blood of three continents” and exemplify the best traits of all three as a so-called “universal race”, supposedly the closest remaining heirs to the mythical Ehlnofey. While this belief undoubtedly originated as a defensive rebuttal to Heigidhi and other Old Crown claims that their complex ancestry rendered them “impure” it has over time hardened into a belligerent triumphalism of its own, adding further fuel to the fires of division that have so often scorched wider Raguda."

    Real life analogue can be found in PR concept of mestizaje.
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  10. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Willing to become a writer for any province   

    What lv121 said. Perhaps an in-universe piece of writing sample. If you're familiar with writing quests, creating NPCs, etc., those are definitely skills I think would be especially valuable for various teams.
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  11. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Recruitment Thread - No Longer Used   

    Hi Gatorfolk! Could we perhaps get an in-universe sample of writing, say some dialogue or some journal entries set within the TES universe? EDIT: Apologies for the delay!
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  12. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Show us what you're working on!   

    Awesome work! Now I have to play Shivering Isles again...
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  13. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic [Book] [Series] [Hammerfell] Stolen Legacy   

    Here's the seventh volume:
    Stolen Legacy, Volume VII
    Thunderous chanting awaited the trio outside of the Temple of Arkay. A mass of people swamped the main court as fierce drumming adjoined powerful string melodies and chatter. The perfume of freshly-cooked meat and other foods wafted amongst a barrage of musk, sweat, and exotic spices, forming an odor that enticed as much as it repulsed. This, was Sentinel in its prime.
    There’s no way we’re getting through this right now. Ramma had not seen so many people celebrating together since the last anniversary of the Second Treaty of Stros M’kai; the day Hammerfell was forever transformed, and the first seeds of Raguda were sown. “Looks like we’ll be waiting a while before you can make an exit. We’ll have to be quick, or the Dura Ungai will catch us.”
    “That’s fine, I mean, not to say that I like being on the run, but I never get tired of watching this,” Marud said, as a parade of performers dressed in elaborate, flowing patchwork costumes marched toward the center of the courtyard in circular formation. They carried large straw baskets, filled to the brim with pomegranates, while those inside of the circle danced with specially-carved replicas of the very farming equipment used to harvest them. Most intriguing of all to Ramma, was that their faces were concealed by a mask depicting the likeness of the God of Farms Himself.
    The Uetongi do Zeht. And behind them must be Tall Papa, Ramma thought, noticing a performer wearing a mask of Ruptga. They must be re-enacting the legend. “You know Marud, I’ve only seen them perform a few times as a child on Koomu Alezer'i,” Ramma began, “and they still scare me.”
    “Well, they say those who see the faces of the Sons of Zeht are cursed with a hardship greater than that of Tall Papa’s son Himself, and only a few are worthy of the harvest they bring each year. Who wouldn’t be scared of them?”
    “You’ve got a point. Speaking of hardship,” Ramma pointed toward another caravan approaching, “Grand Prince Kasim isn’t looking so well.” A procession of Gada - led by none other than Yakkaz - brought the Prince of Sentinel through the city’s gates, guiding his chariot’s camels. His presence only guaranteed that the Dura Ungai - or the Oyebras, at the very least - were hiding in plain sight.
    Noone could hide Kasim's poor health, however. His eyes - despite the shade his servants provided him - were bloodshot, with dark circles lining them. The Raga looked worn, with numerous wrinkles covering an otherwise young countenance, hardened by things more personal than the war he’d sacrificed his reputation for. As if on cue, jeers filled the air, but Kasim paid them no mind it seemed, gazing toward the golden palace of Samaruik with a vacant expression as he took a swig from a giant flask. “He may be here, but his mind clearly isn’t.”
    “Where is his wife?” Marud asked, peering at the remainder of the Prince’s caravan.
    “I’ve heard rumors that she’s moving on to better prospects, possibly even his brother. To keep it in the family,” Ramma joked. “That would explain why he hasn’t shown up yet, no?”
    Marud chuckled, only to jitter afterward and sigh. “I would like to hope she at the least still has her honor and a spine where Kasim doesn’t,” Marud scratched his scalp between his braids. “Besides, you know his brother is probably the only man the people still respect; his presence will be needed.”
    “We’ll see.”
    “Anyway, I feel for Kasim, but such is the Bite-Back of the one who confided in the pale king over his own people.”
    “We’ll see if his wife isn’t doing a little ‘confiding’ herself just yet,” Ramma added, as her cheeks spread into a churlish grin.
    Marud snorted several times in laughter.“Sometimes your cynicism frightens me.”
    Ramma shrugged it off, then felt someone tug her mantle, and turned around. “Yes Amil?”
    “Dongo, the uetongi are giving out fruit. You mind if I get some before we leave?” Amil asked.
    “Sure. Just be quick, and not so greedy!” Ramma plucked Amil’s nose, and followed him with her eyes, checking for anything suspicious. Nothing, so far. I wish this parade would hurry up.
    “Look who comes now, Ramma,” Marud whispered, his eyes wide with awe, as the High Queen of Hegathe made her appearance: Atu.
    An even larger caravan of handmaidens and an honor guard accompanied Queen Atu, but none of them, in spite of the glamour of expensive fabric and the glint of finely-crafted metal, matched her allure. She rode upon a fine steed of her own, clad in orihalc alike the Yokudan heroes of old, her shoulder-length locks braided into a style that must’ve taken hours. None however, could ignore the weapon at Atu’s hilt. A red gem glimmered from a golden-trimmed pommel, and a faint aura coated the entire weapon, despite being sheathed. Probably due to its “enchantment”, if one can call it that.
    “So that’s the Make-Way blade,” Ramma said. “The blade that A’tor no shira chose instead of a mortal life.”
    “Your Papa called it a living Shehai, correct?”
    “Indeed. He acts of his own accord and only speaks to those worthy of wielding him. He alone has the authority to choose our true ruler, for he became the will of our people.”
    “They say Iszara was the last to give his legacy any true honor. The rest have made him a token for political gain. Perhaps the Queen will fulfill it,” Marud wiped an eye. “They say she claimed more than one hundred Thalmor with his blade. If only your Papa could see this.”
    “See what? The one Make-Way himself chose now brandishing him like jewelry?” Ramma inquired, peeved. “Don’t tell me you can’t see why she brought him with her; these politicians may look like they come on this holy day to offer peace and thanksgiving, but we both know they’re staving off another war. Papa would be ashamed of them. At least the new parties that have arisen don’t hide their ambitions behind the dreams of our people.”
    “She carries A’tor’s blade because it is the right she earned through tremendous sacrifice for us. She commands respect. You almost sound like a Forbear, Ramma. Are you sure you haven’t forgotten who you are?”
    “I, Raga, am a Crown that doesn’t look to our failures for inspiration. Our ancestors are either resting in the Far Shores or rotting as slaves to m’kai. Even still, they could be lost in the In-Between. Tu’whacca forbid any of those horrible fates would befall us,” Ramma paused, and calmed herself, as the anxiousness in her tone subsided. “Look; our greatest folly is that we have praised what made us a strong people while preserving the flaws that weakened us. Perhaps you in your worship of the end welcome such destructive behavior. I don’t.”
    “What did you say, Gurleht?” Marud seethed, stepping forward.
    “I said -,”
    An eruption of screams cut her off as several men and women removed their cowls and began attacking the crowd. Throwing knives whirred amidst the chaos and silenced their victims instantly; javelins crushed all that their blades pierced. Swords aflame from magicka carved a fierce path toward the royalty just ahead of them.
    “Amil!” Ramma whipped her head in her brother’s direction, frantically shuffling through the crowd.
    “The uetongi are over there! I, aghh, think I see him!” Marud stammered, grasping his side as sharp pain briefly struck his ribs. He shook his head and cursed, scowling as he limped behind Ramma.
    “Amil?” Ramma repeated her call, coughing as she paused and caught her breath. Morwha, please, let him be okay... Her ears perked at the familiar patter of feet approaching her.
    “Right here, sis!” Amil rushed beside her; a fountain of sweat and blood covered him.
    “What have those bastards done to you?” Ramma roared, searching him for wounds.
    “Ramma, he’s fine!” Marud shouted, resting a hand on her shoulder.
    “What in Oblivion are you talking about?” Ramma motioned toward the splotches of crimson on Amil’s cloak. “Can’t you see him?”
    “Look again!” Marud ushered Amil next to him and snatched something from his palm. He held it up for Ramma to see, panting. “It’s not his blood.” Ramma gasped and her jaw dropped.
    The amulet of Onsi lay in Marud’s hands, its blade soaked in blood. The gem at its pommel was glowing again.
    “Sen no mongo tang, dongo,” Amil said, resting his head on her. Ramma wiped her forehead in relief, thanking Morwha again.
    “Now do you see?” Marud wheezed, and nudged her to turn around. “It’s his.” A single uetonga do Zeht lay spread along the ground, face contorted into a voiceless cry of agony. His costume was utterly shredded, most likely from being trampled by the mob during the chaos. She noticed a tattoo spread across his neck, and recognized it, mouthing the words inscribed on him. The Dura Ungai? “But he’s not, he’s not...” Ramma stammered.
    “One of the Oyebras?” Marud said. “No, he isn’t. They would never attempt something this rash. This, is another family.”
    The crowds finally began to peter out, and Ramma turned back toward the entrance of Sentinel, holding Amil close by as her eyes searched for the nobility. She could make out the faint silhouette of a new company of men; soldiers accompanying a rather tall (and handsome, Ramma thought) knight in elaborate steel armor. He’d apprehended several of the would-be Dura Ungai assassins, and was now personally aiding the injured nearest them. Kasim’s brother, Richard. I can see why the people love him so much.
    Marud noticed her and couldn’t resist a snicker. “I told you, Ramma. Prince Richard is not his brother.” He then squinted his eyes and shielded his face from the sun as he observed him,”Odd that I cannot see his mount. They say he once tamed a Duneripper and rode it into battle during the war. It's said he brings it wherever he travels in Raguda.”
    Ramma's eyes rolled. “Do you honestly believe everything about him you hear?”
    “Whatever; I hope the others are safe,” Marud said.
    An immense trail of bodies lay scattered around the main square, but none of them belonged to Atu nor Kasim. The Queen instead stood fast, flicking the blade of A’tor clean as her honor guard rounded up several Dura Ungai assassins who’d survived. She whispered something in Yoku to them - Ramma was too distant to understand her - only to have one of them spit at her feet. The High Queen said nothing, then lopped the assassin’s head with an effortless slice. The others cowered, as the Gada brought them before the Prince. They’ll probably die anyway after this.
    “Wow,” Marud trailed, “so the legends are true.”
    Ramma could only smile and nod her head in agreement, impressed as well. “What I wouldn’t give to have seen her fight.”
    Atu then scanned the square and noticed Ramma, sheathing her blade. Her gaze suddenly softened, and she smiled, saying something that Ramma could faintly recognize before Atu retired elsewhere: Tuktu Ansei. Ramma suddenly felt warm as an emotion she couldn’t describe swept over her. “I stand corrected. I guess A’tor no shira did choose well after all.”
    “I think it’s time for us to leave,” Marud interjected, stepping toward the city’s entrance. “Do you have the stone ready?”
    “Yeah, it’s just in my...” Ramma paused, only to find her mantle’s pockets were empty, partially torn. “It’s gone!” She cursed, eyeing the square for it to no avail as she sorted through the debris.
    “Ramma,” Amil said, and stretched forth his hand.
    “Not right, now?” Ramma halted, as a sparkle caught her eye. She closed them and jabbed the ground; Danalione’s memory stone was broken. This far to be set back yet again! Ramma grunted. I swear the Gods have a sick sense of humor.
    “There’s nothing we can do but move forward,” Marud said, coughing. “Besides, the First One never leaves the world out of balance,” he gestured toward the High Queen and the Prince, who now hovered over another corpse. Saleem was dead. “It seems the Dura Ungai are just as divided as the rest of Raguda is.”
    “But they have the memory stone, and we have nothing.”
    “We have each other, the gift you both were given, and we have to leave now before that changes.”
    Ramma paused a moment, allowing Marud’s words to sink in. She gazed down at Amil, relieved when his amulet finally stopped glowing, then shot Marud a glance as her face tensed. “You’ll tell me everything now? No hiding, or by Tu’whacca I will end you myself and see to it that you never reach the Far Shores.”
    “Hey, hey! No need to be so drastic! I can only tell you what I know, but I know a lot. Let’s stop wasting our time now, before the Dura Ungai regroup,” Marud said, as they finally crossed the gates of Sentinel and greeted the Alik’r, freed from the imperious eyes of the Dura Ungai.
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  14. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic [Book] [Series] [Hammerfell] Stolen Legacy   

    After an epic wait, I bring you not one, but TWO new volumes of Stolen Legacy. Here's the sixth volume:
    Stolen Legacy, Vol Six

    Magnus glared down upon Sentinel by the time Ramma and Marud had returned to Danalione. The priestess saw Marud and immediately brought him inside to the undercroft, tending to his wounds as best as she could. Yet, Ramma knew it wasn’t enough; none of us are safe here any longer. They will come, and their vengeance will be swift. Ramma wanted to remain, but she knew that she stood no chance without any weapons of her own, let alone allies with the political clout she needed that she could trust. She half-imagined a small company of Gada were stationed right outside of her home, awaiting her return.
    Amil was already awake and snacking on a pomegranate. Ramma kept her eyes locked upon the amulet of Onsi as it dangled across his chest, waiting for the gem embedded within its pommel to glow again as it had before. She only saw rays from candlelight strike its flaws instead; rather, the grooves formed by the script carved into it. A creed of some sort, a promise to the Boneshaver Himself from the Ansei. Wait... Ramma paused a moment and shook her head.
    Since when can I read ancient Yoku?
    The “True Yoku” - as the staunchest of her Crown brethren liked to call it - she knew was a language preserved mostly orally. Only a modest amount of literature was dedicated to its written form. Yet, even “True Yoku” was merely one of myriad dialects that the many nations and tribes of Yokuda once spoke; the Dunedwellers of the Alik’r spoke a few variations of them a well.
    The Hel-hi-bateki matani she’d kept (how do I even know what they’re called?) were far from ordinary memory stones; it must’ve imparted this knowledge inside of her before she gave it to Saleem, burying its secrets deep within the parts of her mind she never ventured.  Speaking of buried... Ramma cast another glance at Amil’s amulet and shuddered to imagine the kind of knowledge hidden inside of it.
    Onsi’s wisdom, Marud called it. And now Amil’s been exposed to it. I wonder if... Ramma thought of their battle with Yakkaz’s men and how readily Amil had stabbed the Gada attacking them. He’d seen death before, but Ramma had hoped he’d never have to participate in it himself. Wisdom of that kind is nothing my brother needs. Yet, Ramma sensed that a much different fate awaited Amil. Her heart missed a beat when she realized the feeling wasn’t truly hers.
    “So Ramma, how does your arm feel?” Marud asked, wincing as Danalione sewed his shoulder wounds closed.
    Ramma raised her arm, still partly mystified by what had transpired. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt or anything.”
    “I see,” Marud nodded, “I think that is incredible. What do you think it was? I’ve never seen a blade of pure magicka that looked like that before. Sure, maybe a Daedric one conjured by a m’kai, but never one like yours.”
    “Well it wasn’t a shehai, if that’s what you want to imply,” Danalione interjected, nicking the string with her teeth as she tied Marud’s wound closed.
    “Hey, watch it, Gurleht!” Marud yelped.
    “Don’t whine! I’m almost done as it is,” Danalione snapped.
    “Why can’t you just heal him as you did me yesterday, Dana?” Ramma asked.
    Danalione sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her palm a moment before washing her hands in the basin next to her. “Those of us skilled in Restoration know that there’s a difference between mending shallow wounds like yours and those of people who’ve experienced,” Danalione frowned at Marud, “repeated physical and mental trauma. There are many ways to scar things, and spells can only heal so much. He’s very lucky, almost blessed I’d wager, to be alive. But his body will certainly take no more abuse.”
    “Don’t Dana, or you’ll make that ego of his even greater than it already is.”
    “Heh,” Dana snickered, as she stopped tending Marud’s shoulder and covered his wound. “I’m finished now. He’s lucky I’m not charging him for this.”
    “Or ‘blessed’, perhaps?” Marud replied, smiling. Danalione sat back, mouth slightly ajar, but halted before she spoke again and chose to wash her hands instead, glaring at him the entire time.
    “I warned you, Dana.”
    “Any way, I don’t think you used a shehai. Sounds more like an advanced magickal skill. The best Ansei in Skaven haven’t put on more than a light performance ever since the power was lost. Or, if the bluster about the stones is what it’s cracked up to be, I can only hope that it was only the beginning of one.”
    “But the legends say that the Ansei could summon them when their need was dire out of pure instinct. Could Ramma not have done the same?” Marud asked, rubbing his shoulder.
    “Look, I may sound like an unbeliever–,”
    “You most certainly do, doesn’t she Ramma?”
    “Quiet it, Marud.”
    “However,” Danalione raised her voice, stopping short of a shout, “I show doubt only out of caution. If forming a shehai were as simple as absorbing whatever forbidden knowledge lay inside of that stone, do you imagine the kind of havoc the Oyebras would unleash once they discovered it, and who’s to say they haven’t already?”
    “She’s right, Marud,” Ramma massaged her arm, gazing at her palm again. “We already have enough to fear, and Shehai Shen She Ru never was an easy art to learn, let alone master.” Ramma then remembered Yakkaz’s words to Saleem. That’s what he meant by “understand the knowledge I was given”. I have to comprehend what I have before I can use it effectively.
    “So have you decided where you’ll be going now? Forgive me for not being able to keep you here any longer, Ramma.”
    “No apologies are needed. You’ve risked enough. Marud will take my brother with him and we will meet later on outside of Sentinel. That is, if I’m not killed by the Oyebras this evening,” Ramma showed Danalione the memory stone she’d given to her. “It worked. So did your spell. I think thanks are owed to you now.”
    Danalione stood and dried her hands with a towel, tossing it aside. “Thank your father Weywran; those spells came from his work. It’s actually a sealing spell priests of Tu’whacca use.” Danalione then gazed past Ramma, motioning for Amil. “Come, young man,” Danalione waved a giant sack of date palms with a crafty grin. “I’ve got a parting gift for you!” Amil was beside her almost immediately. “I also have this,” Danalione revealed a light brown hooded tunic embroidered with the crest of Arkay, “to protect you from the heat. I enchanted it myself.” Probably with an Illusion spell or two to conceal him to the untrained eye, Ramma thought.
    Ramma turned toward Marud and helped him to his feet. “Are you ready, now, no shira?”
    “I will have to be.”
    “Then, it’s time.”
    “Ramma,” Danalione approached her with a small tome within her hands. “Here,” she handed it to Ramma. “Weywran said it was your birthright, and that I was only to give it to you once I knew you were ready.”
    Ramma took the book, slim and bound with a strong hide that had been dyed white, and recognized her father’s seal on its cover. “Is this...?”
    “Yes, it is. You can learn the spell that I gave you, as well as many other magicks,” Danalione tried to smile again, but failed. “Turns out that for all of the Raga’s contempt of most magick, the Yoku people were once quite adept at it. You’re proof of this.”
    “Dana, you don’t have to...”
    “I’ll watch over your home and make sure none of those no lo’igri taint a single thing,” Danalione continued, gazing away from them. “You should go now; I’m sure the Oyebras will sic their Gada upon this place soon. Nothing is sacred any more.”
    Ramma held Danalione tight within a final hug, and pecked her cheek. “Thank you so much!”
    “Just keep making your parents proud. Now get! We both have jobs to do, you know!” Danalione said, playfully shooing Ramma away from her, “And take good care of that mantle! Those things are not cheap!”
    Ramma nodded and put the book inside one of her indigo cloak’s inner pockets. “I will. Trangai, Dana.”
    “Goodbye,” Danalione replied, as the three disappeared inside a mist of shadow.
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  15. Mwatuangi added a post in a topic Bruma Clothing   

    Looking good!
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