Tales of Atonement: To make a hero (Excerpt 1)

Earth Year 0 A.D. Matrosen

Turmoil does not do justice to the situation that is long standing on the planet Matrosen. Two sentient races occupy its surface; the intellectual and culture-loving Varem, and the militant and competitive Jinya. These two factions have had tense relations for centuries, though over the last generation, treaties and truces had been signed on both sides. Now, however, with recent developments, the tensions were strained even further than before; dangerously close to snapping.

The purple midday skies are streaked with green cumulous clouds as a host of sturdy, rugged-faced beings make their way down a long footbridge. The male at the front wears a stern expression to his strong features, and his mane of dark red hair drifts down his shoulders and back; seeming to meld in with the sheen that comes off of his dark red cape.

He marches with several in his entourage, each of them armed with a pole arm bearing a hooked trident on one end and a bladed crescent at the other. Raising his yellowy eyes toward the dome-shaped building in the distance, he sighs. The design is a compromise; Jinya preferring domed structures, whereas the Varem prefer decorative arches and high towers. Both of these elements were incorporated into the design of this place of peace; situated perfectly between the two landmasses, in the middle of the Cirilian Sea, with its deep aqua-green waters lapping at the sides of the bridge.

They are met at the door by guards of their own posting, who straighten smartly and lift bladed weapons in salute of their leader, who continues on through the door without a word.

The man slows his steps as he enters the inner chamber; also a compromise of Jinya open space and Varem pillars. The pillars, so the Jinya thought, gave cover by which assassins could hide, and this caused for the leader of the warrior race to become more alert and on his guard. Soon, an opposite door opens.

Escorted by her own guards, the green haired woman has a stern, ethereal look about her. Her gown is short in the front, and trails long and far behind her in a material like the gossamer of a fairy’s' wings, and split thusly in the middle. Her long, green tresses bound up in curls, flowers and braids then cascade down her back and flow as she seats herself at the two-man table in the middle of the room, and her violet eyes narrow gently at the king not far from her. "King Rogan."

"Ave, Queen Krysteen." The Jinya lifts his powerful arms peacefully out to either side, and displays the silvery colored lining to his cape. He is otherwise clad in a goldenrod sarong, and leather sandals. He strides closer to the table, speaking commonly in Latin.

"The queen respectfully requests that, because of the nature of this meeting, you remove your weapon, and leave it with your guards at the door." The lean, darker skinned guard at her right says quickly, taking a step before his queen at the side of the table. "When they leave, we will leave as well."

Hefting one side of his cape with an innocent blink, the Jinya king shrugs and motions to the dagger-like blade at his side. "'A Jinya without arms is indecent'." He quotes his race's proverb. "Besides, it's just a flench."

"It is imperative, Sir, and will be taken as an act of war if you refuse." The Varem guard replies, bowing his head respectfully, though his eyes don't leave the muscular man before him. His light leather armour shifts with his movements, and he pulls his beaked, crested helmet up slightly as he stands back upright.

Raising his brow and watching the Varem male for a moment, Rogan slowly closes his eyes with another gentle shrug and unclasps the sheath on his belt. Handing this flench to one of his own and allowing him to walk away with it, the red haired man takes his seat. "Well, seeing how I was not briefed on what this meeting is about, exactly..." He offers the leading statement and sets his open hands against the table, palm down. In Jinya culture, this clearly states that he is offering no resistance.

Though she remains calm, her words carry conviction as she narrows her eyes at her fellow dignitary before the queen still frowns sternly and simply replies. "Where is my daughter?"