Home is Where The Heart Is

[Shabuto Venkage]

He took the clothes from the stranger starting with the parents. The fabric was light, and airy as if encouraging movement. They hugged his waist yet weren't the least bit constraining. He then slipped on the footwear. Sturdy yet supported his feet and joints comfortably. He could tell that a true artisan placed intention and careful observation into every stitch. Thinking back on the homes he saw earlier though the material used for them could be considered crude, basic even, the method they were utilized was nothing short of ingenious. One had to have a deep understanding of the material, and by extension, the land from which they were harvested to be able to maximize it's properties the way these people did. Something that couldn't have been learned overnight...but why...why would he know something like that? He paused for a moment, staring into the waters before placing the shirt over his head.

“Afraid? Of what? The Archipelago has a number of dangerous areas that could swallow you in an instant, fear is not something the Venkage hold for weary individuals.”

His ears twitched, prompting him to freeze with the shirt just barely over his neck.

"Ven...Venkage?"

His eyes widened as his consciousness was swept up in a maelstrom of thoughts.

Spoiler

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"Come on, Myra, you're not serious, are you? Four out of five of your patrons carry a foreboding aura of some sort, that's the nature of this god-forsaken island."

Haylin spoke candidly, waving his fork aimlessly in the air. He humbly took himself for the most lackadaisical individual within the city's limits, carrying an air of joviality with him to contrast with the typically horrible weather and complementary social settings they found themselves in often. At any given point in time, someone might be robbed. At another, probably right behind it, another completely uninvolved individual might be shanked and sequestered in a dark comer of the mangroves. For most of his time as a newcomer to the island, he didn't even think they had a city on the island that wasn't some secret hub for some organization vying for total control of the island by almost any means necessary.

"You and Brom run a tight ship, but your clientele is 100% questionable 100% of the time."

"Heh Guess you've got me there."

She didn't even try to deny it. In fact, she found it a bit flattering. She and Brom were the only two actively keeping the tavern a generally safe space. Most folks in Erosia came here to escape the tumultuous nature of the island abroad. Being it was one of the few peaceful places the community did fairly well at keeping stable.

Haylin looked over his shoulder, and he and Cass caught Brom applying some proprietary pressure to the back of the newcomer's head. Hoods were frowned upon, but not necessarily forbidden. The only enforcers were Brom and Myra and the Occasional volunteer who wanted to keep Erosia's one public house just that, a public house. Haylin appreciated the sense of camaraderie among the few patrons who didn't make trouble nor interacted with one another unless under dire duress There were no friends on this island, just associates with common goals, Haylin and Cass learned that the hard way shortly after their arrival on the island still reeling from the Fall of Arcturus. Beaten, buttered a bit, and ruffled, they leaned on their natural generally positive disposition when meeting the first residents two weeks after they washed up on the shore. One week later, they had broken out of a stone-holding cell someone tossed them in and spent the next weeks recovering from poison somewhere in the woods. The island was rife with danger and friendship was a luxury the Gafren duo couldn't afford.

Brom passed Myra elbowing her in the arm and stickered as he went past. She grabbed the ladle next to her and faked throwing it at him, he flinched before rushing into the kitchen for cover. Myra smirked and shook her head. She turned back to Haylin and Cass. Looking out at the modest tower before her Myra caught herself in a bit of a trance. One of pride no less. Life in Erosia wasn't easy but it was simple enough. Just a place where people wanted to find even a sliver of peace in this chaotic prison.

"I ask myself that about you every day, bird-boy," Myra responded, moving the bowls from their bar top and getting to work elsewhere.

She walked over to another table and began servicing a small family.

Then the new guy's eyes caught theirs. Haylin just gave a wave and a nod, mouthing 'Sup' to the newcomer, Cass shook itself, beginning to preen it's feathers and settling into the chair, satisfied with their meal. The new guy looked like he was waiting for something, or just spooked by spontaneous eye contact. Whatever it was, he was standing out trying not to stand out.

Shabuto was wearing his usual scowl when their eyes met. It didn't reflect his true feelings. He came from a world where scowls were worn as masks to keep people at arm's length. Hurt people hurt people and Shabuto had had enough of hurting everyone around him. Seeing Brom and Mora tease each other though brought Mara and Zane to mind.

*Flashback*

Zane: Geez we've been here for four days already and haven't gotten a single person to talk to us!

Mara: Well I've been having great luck when you two sour pusses aren't around.

She said jumping in front of Shabuto who had been so focused on trying to interpret his vision he barely noticed her his face casually scowled. Mara stood form and Shabuto crashed into her armor plate. He stumbled back a few steps while rubbing his head. Mara stood about 2ft over Shabuto dwarfing him like a sun would a moon.

Mara: Shabuto listen to me...seriously.

Shabuto looked up at her and saw her bear the most stalwart expression he's ever seen her wear. One that conveyed the belief in her next set of words.

Mara: We've all seen it, the hellish side of life. I'll admit this island still feels like another chain in our fate. However...

Her face began to soften and relaxed into a warm smile.

Mara: Here we can smile and have friends. We're friends.... right, Shabuto?

Zane with his arms folded was looking over his shoulder giving a slight nod and smirk.

*Flash back end*

Shabuto found his scowl had melted into a friendly smile. He threw up a peace sign before rising from his seat. He'd never sat at the bar top. Supposed today was as great as any. Here his chains were only as real as he saw them to be. Here, he was free to make his own choices. So he'd choose to introduce himself."Mara, Zane... of course we're friends. I will save you." He made his way to a seat down from Haylin. "My bad, didn't mean to stare. I've never seen a bird like yours before." He said as he sat down. They were massive compared to Shabuto, yet his usual air of not being intimated remained unbothered. "Shabuto, Shabuto Venkage".

A young man, a massive bird. A dusty place, a bar? A promise, a battle for freedom. Shabuto then recalled his name, his hand extended towards the pair, their agreeing to work together. The scene seemed to rewind, back up the stairs in the bar to him standing before an open window grasping a stone and reminiscing about the one that gave it to him.

He shifted his medallion between his fingers. The only keepsake he held from the hermit who raised him, was a man he knew nothing about. In truth, the man rarely ever treat Shabuto with kindness but he taught him a great many things. Crafting, herbology, how to fish, how to fight how to use his very rare mystical abilities, rare even amongst the Venkage as a whole. "The Old man was the closest thing to family I can remember...and even he...". Pawned him off, selling him to the Nightmare Wolves for a relic. Changing the course of his life forever. The only family he ever had discarded him leaving him only this stone and a final set of words.

The window was cracked and from it, a warm breeze carried the smell of baked goods. He gripped his stone remembering the words the man told him. " Shabuto, you were the closest thing to a son I've ever had. May Judei shower you with love eternal..." And yet he couldn't even remember the man's name.

He could barely make out the man's face, let alone his name. But the feelings his memory inspired were filled with both joy and sadness. He let go of the shirt, but the memories continued to flood him with unrelenting presence. The face of a young woman with freckles and a smug young man with magic dancing at his fingertips and an intense desire to protect them. At the end of this barrage a menacing grin, like the smile of a monster. He came to once more scrummaged through his clothes and searched his pockets. It was there. The Medallion he saw in his memories. It retained a subtle ethereal glow reflecting the sun's gleam curiously...on the back of it words were inscribed in a dialect he could scarcely read. But he could make out what seemed to be a name.

"Shabuto, I remember now. My name is Shabuto."

He held it up in the light before the stranger.

[Venkage Clos]

“Shabuto, huh?” The stranger asked, having turned their back while he dressed himself. The lost look that occupied Shabuto’s face reminded him of the nursery rhymes and children’s stories that circulated the archipelago for ages. They were written in books, recorded on ancient stones on the far side of Elgin, their main island, stories telling of a force of nature that whisked the wide eyed away in the dead of the night. Everyone had to have heard the stories, they were a cautionary tale to keep the lighthearted people grounded in reality, the reality that trouble could be lurking around any corner on the idyllic archipelago.

“You look kinda… familiar, Shabuto. But I take it you’re not from around here, are you?”

They turned back to Shabu after his pants were completely on and curiously drank in his blank stare and curled smile. It unnerved him for a moment, like seeing a distant family member, but they were so unfamiliar they might as well be a complete stranger. Then Shabuto held up the medallion he pulled from his soiled clothing. It sparkled and shimmered in the sunlight, casting swirling clouds of refracted light onto the crustal clear waters at their waist. The medallion lit up and so did the helpful person’s eyes, recognizing it as a special material only found on the same far side of Elgin.

“Or is he…”

[Shabuto Venkage]

"..."

He remained silent, he wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that question, not with his memories dancing around his mind like they were. He couldn't say with certainty where he was from or wasn't for that matter. Certain words, sights, and smells trigger all kinds of jumbled experiences within him. The concepts of what was foreign and familiar battling against each other in a tiring bout of tug of war feeling like he would be pulled apart at any moment. That this person could have even recognized him at all was jarring. He stared at the medallion, noticing that it sparked some kind of reaction from his companion.

"You know what this is?"

He asked, his brow furrowing in the process.

" Or who it belonged to?"

He glared at the swirling lights refracting from the glass-like jewelry. There was a certain kind of...warmth terminating from the medallion but not a physical one, like one that held lingering emotions of the one who gave it to him.

[Venkage Clos]

“It looks like it’s made of storm glass, but I can’t tell whose it is. Maybe someone back inside knows.” The person finished their skewer and motioned for Shabuto to follow them.

Back inside, the person who gave Shabuto his clothes returned to the chef’s side, whispering closely into his ear. Chef’s eyes lit up watching Shabuto step back into the room with the shimmering medallion in hand. The other guests eyes turned to catch the refracted light dancing over the walls, bouncing between the similar designed ornaments adoring the walls. The room lit up with curious murmurs and casual laughter.

“That’s quite the piece you brought with you,” the chef said, plating some more food and closing the grill, its hearth now quieting. “Mind if I see it?” he asked, taking a bite of a skewer himself, finally able to relax and get a better read on the soot covered guest they acquired. He moved over to a table closer to Gunther, away from the bulk of the people scattered throughout the room. Gunther’s masked head didn’t budge, he seemed to be resting still, but a twitch in his ears alerted him to the chef’s presence.

[Shabuto Venkage]

Shabuto's eyes were widened. As if a brisk wind had removed the fog from his mind a path, even one as small as this one could be revealed. The term "Storm Glass" was intriguing to him, he couldn't recall ever coming across such a term before and his mind was already trying to preemptively come up with theories about its meaning and composition. But for now, he quelled his overbearing internal curiosity and followed the stranger back inside. The cheif asked if he could see the medallion. Shabuto started to hand it over but felt the smallest pull on his heartstrings that caused him to hesitate. For a moment, he experienced a pull of concern, this object, must have meant a lot to him, given to him by someone who meant a lot to him. Yet how could he honor loyalty to a person he couldn't remember? Fighting against his concern he gave the medallion over to the cheif, slowly, carefully as the others giggled and awed.

"This one said it was Storm Glass... I've never heard of such a thing..."

It was a statement laced with inquiry. The cheif seemed to recognize it almost instantly. This only sparked Shabuto's curiosity even more. THere was a sensation of anxiousness bubbling in his stomach, anxiety about what may be revealed to him. But he had to face it, come whatever may.

[Venkage Clos]

“Storm Glass, we find it often on the far side of Elgin, deep in the raging storm.”

The chef gently took the medallion from Shabuto, admiring the craftsmanship in its design. The fine lines and intricate details that made the piece unique also placed in in the previous possession of one with quite the formidable eye for quality. Shabuto arrived covered in dirt and ash, and seemed to be about as lost as a man could be in his own home so chef tried to jog his memory.

“How long were you in the caldera for? It looks like it’s fried your brain. You gotta know this was Storm Glass, how else would you have it?”

The chef gave Shabuto a more deliberate visual scan. Though he, now draped in the stylings of the season, could have been a cousin to anyone in the room, it was his now startling lack of awareness at the item in his possession that gave the chef pause. Where did this guy come from if he didn’t know what storm glass was?

Chef placed the medallion back on the table between them and leaned back with crossed arms. He got comfy for what could turn out to be an extremely interesting story.

[Shabuto Venkage]

There was something about the way the cheif spoke to him that bothered Shabuto. If he knew any of the answers to the questions he was being pestered with he wouldn't have needed his appraisal of the medallion, to begin with. He was becoming increasingly flustered, but in retrospect, it had less to do with the chief and more to do with Shabuto's frustration. Certain words continued to trigger emotional responses in his body and subtle stirkes against his psyche. Elgin, the raging storm, and the storm glass itself brought up a budding sensation of unpacked trauma. He could feel his anxiety increasingly growing before once more he was best by a barrage of memories. Flashes of an older male wielding a staff with a mask like that of a crow ushering him to come to him. The scenes shifted to him being flung into the dirt, training? Flashes of days that turned into months that shifted into years by this man's side. The harnessing of his talent, learning about life on the Island, a hellish landscape with jagged mountains and an enterally churning storm.

Shabuto gripped his face as these memories danced within him, the unraveling of a long bottled tapestry woven with threads of hidden intention. Like something, or someone wanted to keep him from remembering, but the scrutinous energy being presented to him along with his burning desire to know subconsciously began to detangle the efforts to keep his memories jumbled up and locked away. It was then his memories of his time with this man, the complexity of their relationship now made known to him. Years he studied by his side, taught the ways of the druid, how to perceive the many species of plants, the creature that called Elgin home. He was cruel, but warm, hard-strung, a perfectionist, yet cared for Shabuto when he was ill, kept him fed, and helped him hone his talents. The closest thing to a father he could remember, to the family, he had ever known.

"Cyrus..."

The name trickled from his lips like a whisper laced with disbelief. His breath began to simmer down, and his ensnared recollection continued to demystify before him. It was Cyrus who taught him to hone his anthem, evolving it to a state of being able to perceive minor spirits, small elementals, invisible to the naked eye.

"Cyrus he..."

When his memories about Rudral resurfaced, they were staggering, all the emotions, revelations, his initial mission, his former master and enslavement....and how it was Cyrus who sold him to the Nightmare Wolves, into slavery. The wars...the bloody battles he was forced to participate in the trauma of those experiences fresh again.

"He gave me this to me...before he...gave me away...I was...I am"

He said as he looked around the room, he wanted to say it out loud but the word formed a lump in his throat. As if speaking them would confirm something more terrible than he had the gal to suggest right now but he could ignore it no longer.

"I remember traversing the jagged peaks, navigating the hellish lands. We trained, we laughed, we fought. He...taught me to interpret the winds, to read the waves, to harness the storms. To be..."

Shabuto's eyes glinted as he realized what this all meant.

"To be...Venkage."

It was then his full recollection returned,at least the memories from his time with Cyrus and everything forward. The feel of his anthem, the ebb and flow of the planet and the betrayal he felt.

"But then...he gave me away, shipped me to Muu...."

[Venkage Clos]

“By the currents’ course!” Chef said, tossing his hands in the air. He laughed bright and loud, leaning in to speak to Shabuto more quietly. “Are you telling me that you’ve not only weathered the Beckoning of the Eye, but also made it off the island and back?”

The chef stared right into Shabuto’s face and more and more he looked like he’d been changed by the outside world, like the darkness beyond the horizon beset itself in his heart. The Beckoning was a sort of folk tale that many on the archipelago dismisssed as just that, using it to develop good habits in the younglings. But Shabuto claims to have faced such treachery with this Cyrus who sold him off the island and has now made it back to his home. It’s a miracle, only happening in the same folk tales that most discard as just so.

Though the chef was enamored with Shabu’s story already, he took discretion and moved his chair closer to his guest’s side of the table.

"But then...he gave me away, shipped me to Muu...."

“I’ve only heard of the world outside, I know my place and it’s here with my family. Tell me what you’ve seen, where is this Muu? How did you make it back here?” The chef was enamored, full of questions about the outside world and the journey Shabuto had been on. He didn’t recognize the name Cyrus, but the explanation Shabu gave for leaving the island was the stuff of nightmares. The Silvaner Storm Shadow hid most of the storm glass on the archipelago and the only manned entrance was in the commune of Elgin on the mainland Silvaner, the largest island of Marlboro. For them to move freely between the storm shadow and the coastal homesteads, this Cyrus must have had connections to the Oro, the elders and de facto thought leaders in the Venkage Tribe.

Though they led the Venkage in thought, the Oro were a very reclusive group by large. They played a large part in organizing the different communes across the myriad islands of Marlboro, the chef might have assumed Cyrus’s connection to them if Shabuto wasn’t allegedly carted off the island. He had so many questions for Shabu, but knew that if his story held true, he had much more to learn from his people. He might even have a family to return to. IF he could do anything to help him, the chef would.

[Shabuto Venkage]

Shabuto found the Chefs light hearted demeanor and jovial disposition both bewildering and inspiring. The enthusiasm in his voice danced upon the air with a peculiar note to it, one that he had observed in the voices of all those who had gathered here for lunch so far. They were so care free, so joyful even in the midst of a nightmare spoke true they seemed to retain their jubilation. That they knew nothing truly of the world beyond, namely the continent of Muu home to one of the world powers spoke pages about their obliviousness…to know nothing of the world at large. A part of him envied this.

Just how much had he truly lost?

“Well…Muu is a massive land mass, filled with mountains whose peaks pierce the skies. Verdant forest brimming with plant life that you wouldn’t believe existed if you hadn’t seen them. It’s brimming with mystic influence… like the land itself is alive with a will of its own.”

He then had flashes of the skirmishs raging across Vescrutia. That the only reason he got to experience these places was through the passing of battlefields he was forced to fight on as slave to a dark guild. He did not wish to sully their spirits with such talks, he doubted they would be able to grasp the current world state anyway. He thought to respond about how he made it back. But as he tried to remember he felt a meaning chill run down his spine. Like the hand of a ghost touched his shoulder. The sensation silenced him, as if taking he words right from his mouth leaving him unable to utter a word.

“I…I uhh, I’m not sure actually. My heads still foggy you see.”

He nervously adjusted his sleeves the etchings on his flesh catching his attention once more. Though he could not read them that subtle notes of presence ebbing from them felt similar to the chill he just felt. He got the feeling…that there was something else that came back with him, and it did not want the others to know. He tried to stuff his concerns inside distracting himself by grabbing another skewer of food tearing into it keeping his mind occupied to avoid harping on the anxiety building, a darkness brewing within him.

It made him question, even doubt his claim as one of them. He felt…tainted compared to the others. Changed. The way they shared space together, this feeling of family. A temperance as bright as the twin suns, a peace as serene as the moons. Had he ever had that? His earliest memories stretched back only as far as his time with Cyrus. He could remember nothing before. His adoptive father told him that he found him wandering the storm ravaged isles alone, and took him in. Something he later found to be a total lie. But the discovery of that falsehood did not reveal any prior truths.least of all anything about whether he had any living family. No memories of his mother not me father, if he had any siblings. Where their faces should be he could only see blackness obscuring their features. There was one something that the man mentioned that sparked Shabuto’s curiosity.

“Chef, just what is this Beckoning Of The Eye?”

[Venkage Clos]

“I see,” the chef said, stroking his chin curiously. “It doesn’t sound much different from Silvaner. Must have been pretty nice, heh heh.” He’d never been off the island himself, but heard stories of the world abroad, but he heard that there were areas so cold that ice fell from the skies. Those were enough to keep his mind from wandering too far. If the mountains were anything like those on Silvaner, Shabuto did well to explore them and make it back home.

“The Beckoning is an affliction that affects some of us on this archipelago. It haunts us, calling like a specter into the chaos of the storm on the other side of Silvaner Ridge. They go into the storm and come back out like they left a part of themselves in there. They don’t talk about it much, but in most of them, you can just tell, y’ know?” The chef leaned in closer to avoid some of the more sensitive ears in the room, most everyone on the archipelago knew someone afflicted with the Beckoning, knew firsthand the pain of losing a loved one to its sinister allure. “The real unlucky ones don’t even make it home.”

The chef leaned back in comfort again, laughing confidently. Shabuto seemed to have gone through quite the ordeal to make it back to the islands in one piece. His experience led him back home and here, there was a place for him to explore the depths of his memory in peace. Here, he could find his place once again.

“You should talk to Alsace, they’ll probably have something to cure what ails you.” Gunther’s ears perked up at the mention of Alsace from across the room. They might have some more key words for Shabuto after all.