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The Shamaness - Khetka's Story

The Shamaness - Khetka's Story

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Published by Zyraya
The backstory for the demonologist and shaman Khetka.
The backstory for the demonologist and shaman Khetka.

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Published by: Zyraya on Feb 21, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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"I believe the Scholar Diodorus had a topic he wished to raise to the forum?"An old Aquilonian man stood, clothed in light robes. A man who's hair had apparently migrated over the years, now covering his face rather than the top of his head, a bush of snow white. Cold blue eyes cautiously watched his footing as he slowly made his way from his seat, his staff guiding his way down the stairs to the middle of the room to address the group as a whole. Men and women of all ageswaited contently for the man to settle and make his purpose known. And so, withcareful precision, he did. His voice was strong, reverberating through the roomwith power."We have all heard the talk of the Pictish savages spreading from what is commonly considered to be their native land, yes?" There were murmurs from the crowd,acknowledging his words. "Their home has become too small! They are attacking villages, even towns, waging war against our kind and our neighbors! We rely on our soldiers to protect us, or the warriors of our neighbors to prevent this slaughter, and allow ourselves to be ravaged mercilessly until help arrives! But doesassistance ever arrive? NO!" More murmurs, some angrier than others at the public acknowledgement of this. "Our soldiers are too busy fighting on other fronts!More important business, more important threats. What is more important than your people's safety? Apparently we must fight for ourselves! Men, women, childrenalike!" He slammed his staff into the stone floor, the clunk echoing. "Together, we can protect our home from---""That wouldn't be a very good idea, hmm?" A gruff female voice interrupted the man, sounding out from the door. The speaker in question looked to be of Stygiandescent, perhaps 16 years of age, but certainly did not appear as one of the villagers. Rather, many rough tattoos covered the visible parts of her body, including her head, which had been shaved to a thin red mohawk and tattooed all around. Her clothes were made of crocodile scales, her staff crudely formed unlike theolder man's, her form thin and frail, her eyes glowing orange as fire, and in her ears were two piercings of bone. Her appearance spoke one word."PICT!!" A woman shrieked from the opposite side of the room and rushed to get to the door, stumbling over other people as they fled en masse. They didn't makeit very far. The girl raised her staff and slammed it into the ground, trinketsrattling as walls of flame lept up to cover the exits. The masses stopped and backed away from the doorways, the closest yelling out as they're burned by the flames. She casually began to walk down the stairs towards the old man, one of thefew who hadn't moved, but was soon stopped by a much larger man rushing at her.She nimbly stepped to the side at the last moment and whacked him on the back with her staff, sending him tripping into the seats. A small laugh and a smirk later she stopped in front of the long-winded Scholar, reaching up to scratch at the fluff of a mohawk on her head."It's things like this that make them attack you, you know." The old man didn'tseem very pleased having this savage standing before him, but he was a little surprised she spoke so well. "Where are the rest of your kind... where are they hiding. What do they want from us?" The girl moved her free hand across her chest,smiling wide. Pointed teeth were shown, probably filed down to look like fangs."I'm the only one here, old man. I came alone.""LIAR!"She took a step back, cleaning out her ear with a finger. "Keep it down, will you? You've a very big mouth. Can I finish?" The elder glared at her, but let hercontinue."I've lived with them. My mother was captured many years ago, and after some...relations with the tribe's chief, pretty gruesome ones from what I hear, she had

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