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Warning! I'm just reposting the two old Dak Territories Fics that weren't directly on my DW onto LJ. Should be only two posts -_-;
Title: Comes the War, Comes the End
Rating: PG-13
Universe: Dak Territories
Characters/Pairings: Meruk, Daes, Jung, Aruk, Beren
Summary: The war is coming. And Meruk suddenly doesn't know if they can win.
Wordcount: 1018
Prompt: Clio - War
Notes: Set earlier in the story than 'The God Asked'. Also, some geography involved
Claimer: Mine
Title: Comes the War, Comes the End
Rating: PG-13
Universe: Dak Territories
Characters/Pairings: Meruk, Daes, Jung, Aruk, Beren
Summary: The war is coming. And Meruk suddenly doesn't know if they can win.
Wordcount: 1018
Prompt: Clio - War
Notes: Set earlier in the story than 'The God Asked'. Also, some geography involved
Claimer: Mine
Comes the War, Comes the End
The fire flickered and crackled fitfully, disturbed by the winds down from the mountains, and not even the copse of trees, a last outpost of the lower forests, could shield it. Meruk shifted slightly, drawing his cloak closer around himself. The Landak arc of the Kiiren Mountains was well know for its winds, the so-called 'Breath of the Gods'. Privately, he thought it very unlikely that any of the gods, not even Birkan of the Winds, would spend all their time breathing down a single mountain. Not even they were so vindictive.
Across the fire, he could see Daes and Jung murmuring to each other, occasionally flaring up into louder exclamations before falling back again. An argument, then, though gods knew what about. Jung looked to be in fine fighting form, though, and that was good to see. He'd been mind-wandering for too long since the massacre, since his men were lost, and Meruk didn't trust the places that strange, genius mind could go when distressed. No. Better to keep Jung in the here and now, as much as possible.
To their right, Aruk stood leaning against a tree, his eyes fixed firmly on the mountains, their destination. The Shrine of Solinas, his brother. His only hope. His expression was dark, hovering between rage and desperation, desolation. Meruk shivered, looking away hurriedly. He could not bear to see his god so weak.
And that left only one of their company. The thief, second of the Guild. Beren. And this time, his eyes were met and matched, the Guilder staring back unabashedly. Meruk glared at him, and Beren smirked slightly in the firelight, the planes of his face shifting as the light moved over them. Meruk huffed, and looked away.
Out, then. Where it was safe to look. Out at the mountains of the Landak, the territory of gods. The truest of the Daks. Land of mountain and forest and river, shrine and fort. The Battle Dak, the last holding-place of the gods. His land, since his inception into the Order of Aruk.
He wondered how much that meant, now. When everything had changed so much, and the Daks were in turmoil.
Eight in number, the Dak territories. No. Nine, since the Sidak had officially seceded from the Suddak, become more than just its eastern province. The secession had been among the first of the tremors, the hints of ending times. The mortality of his god was only the latest. The war was becoming something else, something more terrible than the simple war of attrition it had been. Guild and Orders, and forces from outside the Daks altogether, all were weaving the webs of war throughout the lands. And soon, so soon, it would boil over into outright conflict.
He only hoped that it was not with the death of his god.
It would be the Nordak first, he thought. The demon stronghold, the northern-most territory. If the death of his god was their opening gambit, it would be from there that their forces would come. Lannordak too, with the Forest of Thieves, caught between Landak and Nordak. They'd have to fight, and choose sides rapidly. The Suddak next, then. Hotbed of trade and intrigue, all the sea-links to the Daks came through that most southern territory. It would be there the outside powers made their move.
The Kaidaks, the central plainslands, he wasn't sure. Kaidak itself was largely self-absorbed, and wouldn't be likely to move in any direction unless forced. With the fertile lakelands there, he doubted either force would push at it until absolutely necessary. Not unless all hope for the future was abandoned to the needs of the present.
Kainordak would ally with the Guild. That was certainty. Near annexed by the Nordak over the years, and infected with a touch of Maehldak insanity from their western neighbour, they'd be a force to be reckoned with, too. Hopefully, the Kaisuddak forces would balance them in favour of the Orders. Karinn, the goddess of the land, had always been powerful in the grainslands.
And the Maehldak, the western territory? Nobody had the slightest idea. Mountains and sea, that was all there was to that land. Mountains and sea, and the madness. Spirits of the Elokoi Ren, most thought, the sea sprites that sang madness into men's hearts. The Land of the Sisters, the Maehldak, where madness waited and luck and fate decided your path, and choice had little to do with it. Meruk had never been there. He never wanted to go, either. Even still, even sworn and loyal to his god, he liked to think that his choices were his own, and no-one's fault but his.
Nine lands. Nine territories. The Daks. Lands of god and demon, of humans and higher powers than any. A prize for any outland enemy, provided the god/demon war didn't ravage them totally, and only those same gods and demons to hold the foreigners back. For centuries, they'd held to a tentative balance, always at war but never outright, never blatantly, always keeping their eyes turned outward instead of purely at each other. And now, with this gambit, with the revolution and secession of the Sidak, it seemed gods, demons and humans alike were turned completely inward, at each other's throats. And as soon as they were done, when one side or another, or neither, had won ... then the outlanders would come. Over the mountains or the sea. And the Daks would fall.
Meruk shook his head, turning almost unwillingly to look once more on his god, and on the enemy tied across from him, and up at the mountains ahead of them. He'd never thought he and his men, their god, would be the linchpin of a war. Not like this, alone and desperately seeking something that had no guarantee of working. Not mortal. Not like this. Never like this. He was a soldier of the god of war. In battle, he knew what to do. In battle he could win. But this wasn't battle. This was a quest, a fool's errand, with the war and the fate of his homeland in the balance.
And he didn't know if he could win.
The fire flickered and crackled fitfully, disturbed by the winds down from the mountains, and not even the copse of trees, a last outpost of the lower forests, could shield it. Meruk shifted slightly, drawing his cloak closer around himself. The Landak arc of the Kiiren Mountains was well know for its winds, the so-called 'Breath of the Gods'. Privately, he thought it very unlikely that any of the gods, not even Birkan of the Winds, would spend all their time breathing down a single mountain. Not even they were so vindictive.
Across the fire, he could see Daes and Jung murmuring to each other, occasionally flaring up into louder exclamations before falling back again. An argument, then, though gods knew what about. Jung looked to be in fine fighting form, though, and that was good to see. He'd been mind-wandering for too long since the massacre, since his men were lost, and Meruk didn't trust the places that strange, genius mind could go when distressed. No. Better to keep Jung in the here and now, as much as possible.
To their right, Aruk stood leaning against a tree, his eyes fixed firmly on the mountains, their destination. The Shrine of Solinas, his brother. His only hope. His expression was dark, hovering between rage and desperation, desolation. Meruk shivered, looking away hurriedly. He could not bear to see his god so weak.
And that left only one of their company. The thief, second of the Guild. Beren. And this time, his eyes were met and matched, the Guilder staring back unabashedly. Meruk glared at him, and Beren smirked slightly in the firelight, the planes of his face shifting as the light moved over them. Meruk huffed, and looked away.
Out, then. Where it was safe to look. Out at the mountains of the Landak, the territory of gods. The truest of the Daks. Land of mountain and forest and river, shrine and fort. The Battle Dak, the last holding-place of the gods. His land, since his inception into the Order of Aruk.
He wondered how much that meant, now. When everything had changed so much, and the Daks were in turmoil.
Eight in number, the Dak territories. No. Nine, since the Sidak had officially seceded from the Suddak, become more than just its eastern province. The secession had been among the first of the tremors, the hints of ending times. The mortality of his god was only the latest. The war was becoming something else, something more terrible than the simple war of attrition it had been. Guild and Orders, and forces from outside the Daks altogether, all were weaving the webs of war throughout the lands. And soon, so soon, it would boil over into outright conflict.
He only hoped that it was not with the death of his god.
It would be the Nordak first, he thought. The demon stronghold, the northern-most territory. If the death of his god was their opening gambit, it would be from there that their forces would come. Lannordak too, with the Forest of Thieves, caught between Landak and Nordak. They'd have to fight, and choose sides rapidly. The Suddak next, then. Hotbed of trade and intrigue, all the sea-links to the Daks came through that most southern territory. It would be there the outside powers made their move.
The Kaidaks, the central plainslands, he wasn't sure. Kaidak itself was largely self-absorbed, and wouldn't be likely to move in any direction unless forced. With the fertile lakelands there, he doubted either force would push at it until absolutely necessary. Not unless all hope for the future was abandoned to the needs of the present.
Kainordak would ally with the Guild. That was certainty. Near annexed by the Nordak over the years, and infected with a touch of Maehldak insanity from their western neighbour, they'd be a force to be reckoned with, too. Hopefully, the Kaisuddak forces would balance them in favour of the Orders. Karinn, the goddess of the land, had always been powerful in the grainslands.
And the Maehldak, the western territory? Nobody had the slightest idea. Mountains and sea, that was all there was to that land. Mountains and sea, and the madness. Spirits of the Elokoi Ren, most thought, the sea sprites that sang madness into men's hearts. The Land of the Sisters, the Maehldak, where madness waited and luck and fate decided your path, and choice had little to do with it. Meruk had never been there. He never wanted to go, either. Even still, even sworn and loyal to his god, he liked to think that his choices were his own, and no-one's fault but his.
Nine lands. Nine territories. The Daks. Lands of god and demon, of humans and higher powers than any. A prize for any outland enemy, provided the god/demon war didn't ravage them totally, and only those same gods and demons to hold the foreigners back. For centuries, they'd held to a tentative balance, always at war but never outright, never blatantly, always keeping their eyes turned outward instead of purely at each other. And now, with this gambit, with the revolution and secession of the Sidak, it seemed gods, demons and humans alike were turned completely inward, at each other's throats. And as soon as they were done, when one side or another, or neither, had won ... then the outlanders would come. Over the mountains or the sea. And the Daks would fall.
Meruk shook his head, turning almost unwillingly to look once more on his god, and on the enemy tied across from him, and up at the mountains ahead of them. He'd never thought he and his men, their god, would be the linchpin of a war. Not like this, alone and desperately seeking something that had no guarantee of working. Not mortal. Not like this. Never like this. He was a soldier of the god of war. In battle, he knew what to do. In battle he could win. But this wasn't battle. This was a quest, a fool's errand, with the war and the fate of his homeland in the balance.
And he didn't know if he could win.
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