Rubaiyat » Lair » Besshala

Besshala

(#27954567)

Harbinger, Shaman's Apprentice

Harpagon

Transmuted Treasure

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

20.4 m

Wingspan

22.25 m

Weight

6190.7 kg

Genetics

Sand
Vipera

Shadow
Shimmer

Shadow
Okapi

Hatchday

Oct 23, 2016
(7 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Light
Common

Level 1 Imperial

EXP: 0 / 245

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Tagu
Larissa

Offspring

none

Biography

BESSHALA

Harbinger, Shaman's Apprentice

Soft sunshine warming her face, harsh upon her blind eyes until her mother one day bought her a blindfold to gentle the sun's glare. The distinctive smell of pine trees tickling her nose, rich and heady when rain fell on her snout, sharp and fresh when the sun shined. The woollen mats her parents wove were coarse against her skin, as she tossed and turned at night, kept awake by yet another vision of tragedies to come. This was the life Besshala knew, growing up on a little patch nestled among the great timber woods of the Sunbeam Ruins.

Her parents treated her very differently. Her mother's voice was sweet as a summer's breeze when she sang, easing away all of Besshala's worries. When Besshala faltered in the face of hardship, her mother was there to support her. Her father insisted - demanded - that his daughter strengthen her mind and body, through several strenuous activities that left her sobbing and gasping. In retrospect, she imagined, that if he truly wanted her to handle her visions better, breaking her body and spirit, leaving her even more vulnerable might not have been the wisest path to walk.

Her visions were often sudden and intense, stripping the mind of any present thought, leaving only a crystal clear picture of some event that had yet to pass. Blind since birth, these images were incomprehensible to her. However, the accompanying sounds, tastes, and most importantly, feelings of either dread or hope were not.

When she received her first vision, it was of two Imperial souls taking their last breath together. Her immediate reaction was running to her father as fast as her stubby legs could carry her. It was imperative that those Imperials did not die together! Her father took her very seriously and asked around; panic spread through the town of the impending possibility of an Emperor.

He found nothing, but several weeks later word reached of an Emperor rampaging in the Tangled Wood, born from the remains of an old grandmother and her sickly grandson, both having perished through the night. Since then, Besshala's visions were known to all in her village, and her clanmates looked upon her with fear and distrust.

Years passed and the visions continued, each more horrid than the last. A failed harvest, a sudden lumber accident, or an egg rotting. There was no end to them, and soon her clan members were filled with dread every time Besshala opened her mouth. Many were those who raged at her, demanding that she keep her mouth shut, that she not give speech to the images in her head, making them any realer. Besshala promised, for her clanmates' peace of mind, until one day she could hold her tongue no longer.

The words were grave and heavy on her tongue as she spoke to a friend of her mother, detailing the future that awaited her younger brother. In one excruciating moment she had felt his heart stop, heard his thin voice gasp out his sister's name, one last attempt begging for help.

His sister did not take the news well. She railed and screamed at Besshala before leaving the village, frail brother in tow. In the aftermath, they learned she had taken her brother to any healer or physician she could find, travelling great distances over a short period of time. It must have been terribly stressful for her brother or maybe it was simply inevitable, but on a trek from one village to another, her brother's heart had given out.

Once news reached the village, claws were pointed at Besshala. The reaction from her village was one of pure, unadulterated rage. While she was taking a walk among the pine trees a mob fell upon Besshala. Friends of the sister, people who had known the brother, and clanmates who were simply out for blood - they all attacked her with much gusto.

Besshala may very well have died that day, were it not for Jiilyaa. The rambra shepherd had been passing by on her way to the village to buy textiles when she heard a commotion. Taking quick action, the raging Wildclaw stomped into the crowd, fists bearing down on her clanmates and large wings beating off those foolish enough to try and strike back at her. They scattered, but not before hurling threats at the wounded Besshala, promising further action if she dared show her face in the village again.

This sudden expulsion from her village, from the only home she's ever known, was too much for her. Beaten bloody, without clan and home and family, Besshala broke down into tears. Jiilyaa, who was desperately trying to clean the Imperial's wounds, had heard everything. When a despairing Besshala confided in her, spoke of everything that led up to that moment, Jiilyaa opened her arms to the Imperial, promising her a home with her flock. Not knowing what else to do, Besshala accepted. It proved to be the best possible decision she could have made.

Besshala couldn't recall ever meeting someone so kind and understanding as Jiilyaa. Jiilyaa was so good to her. She offered comfort when it was desired, and let Besshala be when it was needed. Across northern Sornieth they wandered, until they reached Dragonhome where they took up permanent residence. The rocky plains were their new home and it was tranquil...
Maybe too much so.

It became lonely. Jiilyaa was a blessing in dragon form, but Besshala missed other dragons. She missed visiting the markets with her mother, listening to the eager conversations around her. This lack of presence became downright stifling as years went by, turning the tranquility of the rocky plains oppressive. The winds' whispering, once comforting, became just another remainder of the lack of real voices.

Neltethas proved to be the solution. While visiting a nearby town for supplies, they met upon the kingdom's shaman Pharsalia while she was buying herbs. Upon hearing her voice, Besshala started at the recognition and spoke carefully, informing Pharsalia that the night prior she had dreamed of her. A horribly vivid dream it had been, filled with all manner of strange spirits hissing and snarling at Besshala, yet not laying a single hand on her. This was thanks to Pharsalia, who was leading her, showing how to understand the hissing. In her dream, she had spoken of needing a conduit, someone who could simplify the process of communicating with the spirits. Upon finishing, the Skydancer regarded her with an inscrutable look on her face, but said little. They bid the shaman farewell, and Besshala thought that was it.

A couple days later Besshala received a message from Pharsalia, mentioning she was indeed in need of an apprentice and would be much delighted if Besshala was willing to consider the position. Exhilarated over the opportunity to have her visions be of genuine use and, perhaps most importantly, to be in company with so many dragons - an entire clan! She was happy to accept.

The glare of the sun on her face, scorching her sensitive eyes even through the blindfold. The smell of smoke, dried grass and herbs creating a mixture that is pleasant to inhale. Her mistress and colleague Pharsalia chattering happily in her ear. Weekly visits from her beloved Jiilyaa, living with her flock only a couple days of travel away, filled with kisses and declarations of love.

Besshala is, perhaps for the first time in her life, truly content.

» wife to Jiilyaa
» homosexual; she/her

bio written by Murakali

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Exalting Besshala to the service of the Earthshaker will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

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