Iracema

Poem by: Ebony3

"your clan's future is bright"

HERE is the assassins blurb

"The tough guy, the muscle, whatever you want to call him, he’s the guy who uses brute force to get things done. Despite being so brawny, Iracema is pretty humble at heart, but don’t let that fool you-- he’s no softie. So far, no one’s ever beaten him in claw-to-claw combat, and when he fights, it’s always to the death."

On his first day in the Nameless Assasssins, 'Iracema' was assigned to go scout out the rival faction, the Gladerunners. Most of his associates were celebrating the Greenskeeper Gathering, so it was a solo mission- he was just looking for intel, allegedly. But he was a new recruit, so he'd set off without complaint. He'd picked a tree at the edge of their camp and settled down in the highest bough that would hold his weight, his enemies ant-small below. What sharp eyes you've got, Arda's voice whispered as he peered down. Just like a falcon. Gyrin, dear, what do you see?

Iracema saw the leader of the Gladerunners kill three of his own in a senseless, frenzied bloodbath. Supposedly in the name of the Gladekeeper, but why? In that moment, he turned his back on deity worship forever- no god would want such a thing. He reported back to Flora with hollow eyes, knowing better than to ask questions.

His next few months were uneventful. Training, fighting, taking contracts, ignoring his fellow assassins' personal lives. The Gladerunners went through a coup. Several of his compatriots died, through betrayal or personal failings or a mixture of both. He kept his head down, and watched as his efforts let the Nameless Assassins grow and prosper.

It was, of course, too good to be true. Flora announced that only four out of the nearly thirty assassins would stay in the clan- the rest would die by the end of the month.

The next few weeks were a bloodbath. Iracema took the contracts that his fellows were too weak (physically or otherwise) to see through. After the first dragons were killed, he began hunting his own food for fear of one of Flora's poisons, he hid his nest. A bitter Imperial slaughtered several of the newer recruits. A rival clan of warriors tried to kill them all; they failed.

A clever, apparently cowardly Gaoler defected to the Gladerunners. It was of no importance to him; he'd made his decision, and it was not the Gladerunners, with their frenzied, ritualistic brutality. It was not fleeing the Labyrinth with a target on his back, he was no coward. And it was certainly not Flora- no, whatever came next, whether it be survival or a bloody end, he would meet it on his own terms. It was time to make a move.

It was he who first came up with the idea to go after Etna, Flora's closest ally and companion. Without her, Flora would be destabilized, volatile- they could take her out easily after that. Start a new faction with just the seven of them- Imeisthe, Sucrose, Vulture, Dio, Lucrest, Snuffles, and himself.

If he'd learned anything in his time in the Nameless Assassins, it was that nothing was ever so easy.

Snuffles- that traitor! That miserable piece of rot! They had never gotten along, but Iracema had thought they'd put aside their differences for that fateful day. They'd plotted together, hunted together, taken down Etna together. But when the loyalists charged in and Iracema was distracted, Snuffles struck- not at Vlad, not at Tony or Patience or Andros or even Flora, but at Iracema.

It was a mortal wound.

And yet, he did not die.


EDITORS NOTE this section is older and unedited and doesnt make sense and its a tone switch? kinda mid tbh but i like the general idea

After being near-fatally wounded by one of his fellow assassins- gods, it was mortifying that such a great warrior had been bested by a dragon named Snuffles- Iracema managed to crawl away from the slaughter and into the forest beyond. He was lucky that the Snapper hadn't bothered to finish him off, but the fact that he wasn't worth a death blow riled at him.

The truth was that Snuffles, drunk on his bloodlust, hadn't cared about Iracema's fate- he'd just wanted to keep killing.

Iracema, however, struggling to stay conscious, didn't spare a thought for his fellow assassins who met their ends that day. He just needed to stay awake long enough to get to the nearest outpost, where a healer could tend to his wounds.

Determined now, he hauled himself to his feet, staggered.. and collapsed immediately.

Four days later he awoke in a nest of leaves to find a dragon with scales like autumn leaves beaming at him. He was heavily bandaged, and his head throbbed- a concussion, most likely. Blast.

"You're finally awake!" The strange Spiral said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

Iracema's only response was a miserable groan.

-

Fleet led him to a small group of dragons deep in the Starwood Strand, most of who could use the training he'd gotten as a new member of the Nameless Assassins. Even those with combat training were terribly undisciplined. The majority were loud and soft and unambitious, and Iracema scorned them immediately. But he owed Fleet a life debt, and though he was immoral at best he would not scorn something so grave. Besides- this was a place that lacked the constant danger that his former group was fraught with. He could grow strong here, rise to the top- as soon as he healed from his wounds.

There were two that gave him pause, though. The first was Belladonna, who kept the group going with what seemed like sheer spite at times. She was an inexperienced leader, but not a bad one, and although Iracema'd had bad experiences with matriarchs he made sure she knew he was loyal to her. A plan was unfolding in his mind, an old ambition rising inside him.

The second was Kirbie. He'd taken her for a glittering fool at first, but under all that gold and silk was a viper's tongue and a heart so black even Fearmaw would take notice. He treated her with wary respect and stayed well out of her way, though he noted that she had the matriarch's ear. He didn't understand it, the glacial regard that they treated each other with, the contradictions, the power struggle. All he knew was that Kirbie had far more influence than he gave her credit for- and that Belladonna was a songless fool for not making an example of her.

-

As it turned out, Iracema had a thing for rebellion.

It started when he ran away from home, chasing the wind away from the Forest's Edge and his family. That led him straight to that miserable business with the Nameless Assassins, when they tried to dispose of Fiona and it almost cost him his life. Winds-blasted Snuffles. And now he was sitting in a cave (what was he, a rock-eater?), the only light a flickering lantern, surrounded by a dozen fools who wouldn't know a rebellion if it was mapped out for them.

A few of his fellow Council members were there- Kirbie, who could have passed for lazily disinterested if it weren't for the gleam in her pale green eyes, Saulė and Venus, one bored and the other annoyed, and Jasper, nervous and twitchy in the shifting light.

There were some of the self-proclaimed outsiders- Ronan, Banana, Vaxa, and Twilight, eyeing the Council members with disdain and distrust. (Ultimately, they would prove to be just children playing with fire, lulled to complacency by promises of change. Fools, all of them.)

Then there was the true young blood. Nalani, a firebrand by more than just name, Weaver, a too-quiet manipulator, Whisper, a true warrior in all but heart, and Morrow. If someone had told Iracema that Morrow was descended from Kirbie, he would have believed it- both were all venom and blades, pointedly lethal. But no, Morrow was Belladonna's daughter. And that made her dangerous, far more than her sharp tongue and her unsettling friends. If it weren't for her public fallout with Belladonna, he never would have let her in on the rebellion- but sometimes he swore Morrow hated her mother more than anyone else.

Morrow made him nervous in a way that he despised.

She was a child. She wasn't a fighter- he could snap her neck in a heartbeat, and she could do nothing to stop him. She'd never cast a spell in her life, he'd never seen her in the training ring- and yet.

And yet.


List of exalted nonclanborns:
Mira (5/16/21)
Zara (2/16/22)
Slogster (2/16/22)
Spiriter (5/28/22)
Kanarra (11/14/22) (lvl 7)
Deimos (11/14/22) (lvl 7)
Mora (lvl 8)
Hypnos (lvl 8)
Bannadareh (12/12/22) (lvl 7)
Moonblossom (12/24/22) (lvl 7)
Junebug (12/29/22) (lvl 7)
Serania (5/15/23) (lvl 7)
Foghorn (5/15/23) (lvl 7)
Forge (5/15/23) (lvl 7)
Cosmo (12/19/23) (lvl 7)
Lyra (12/19/23) (lvl 7)
Jett (1/28/24) (lvl 7)

awakened: andon, janustrap / andonii, flowering pohip / rocke, longneck interloper / arun, longneck magi / thceif, renegade aviar / spine, sanddrift fuiran

notes: arcane egg found on june 10, 2021, day of second milestone dustcarve (eliminate, 27 med health, haste)

===== TO DO LIST =====

- get to 1000+ gems again

- do something nice for silver!! she deserves it tons

- get back into the lore game, maybe you can do something for fey?

- reorganize lair, maybe not for the rebellion but close e nough

- fambond, lots

- gene/level NAT

- ???

- lore again

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And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.

“Late Fragment” - Raymond Carver || Beloved

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hello i just found the coolest thing

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writing i'm rather proud of

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Pontus :)
XAPHAN
Heulwen..
Muirimir