Vescrutia: Legacy

Clouds drifted over the land below casting silhouettes of various caricatures. The sun beaming down bathing the faces of plants and animals alike in its soothing lux. The waves caressed the shores as a crisp cool breeze ruffled the palm trees and rippled through the grass. Spires of naturally formed stone as tall as mountains like the spine of a great beast protruding from the earth. Platlife, exotic practically prehistoric in appearance made this place seem to be a tropical paradise from an age long forgotten, as if untouched by mortal hands. beneath one such monstrous piece of botany would be Shabuto sound asleep.

His dreams were rapid flashes of two people whose faces he could barely make out, then switched to burning green flames and the stark scent of burning flesh. A woman with eyes that mirrored these flames and a menacing black dragon by her side. His eyelids moved rapidly. The creatures of the area stayed away from him as his form gave off a haunting aura that made them weary. A steep wind powerful enough to cause a large melon-like fruit to fall from above landed on the figure's head. It was only then that his eyes opened. The woman's henous laugh was the last thing he experienced before he woke. He was disoriented the pain in his head aside his entire body ached, like he drank a vial of flames. He could vaguely recall himself and was overcome by a deep thirst.

"Where...am I?"

He questioned as he tried to remember, but he couldn't recall a thing not even his name. He tried to stand, his body felt limp and weak but retained enough capacity to stand, leaning against the tree that assaulted him for support. It was then that he felt the strangest sensation one that aroused a mix of feelings that were a bit overstimulating.

"This place..."

It felt similar, as if he had walked this place before, the salty vapor of the surrounding sea on his lips. The very ebb and flow of this land spoke to him and despite his concern and weariness, it...felt right. He observed his hands, they were filthy and blackened like they were covered in soot and ash. That was when he noticed the odd scar on his right arm. Like he had been burned but...intricately, intentionally. His thirst pang hit him again and so decided his best bet would be to find fresh water first. He slowly regained the strength to move deciding that merely standing here bewildered would avail nothing to him and so decided to venture deeper into the land hoping to come across something, anything that would remind him of who he was.

A tall masked individual sauntered through the dappled sunlight of the tropical forest. Their long arms brushed lazily against leaves as they passed, moving deliberately, but gently through the leaves and trunks, bumping shoulders with the wood and vines without missing a step. Every step they made was on the balls of their feet, insulating most of the sound their lithe frame barely made. Their long, flowing sleeves hid their hands, the mask hid their face, and their relaxed posture gave them an aura of lightness, whimsy as they passed through. Their masked face turned toward Shabuto, unfamiliar with the person but paid them mostly no mind and kept on their way. They just waved politely, silently, with their hand hidden beneath their sleeves and traced the path at the edge of the forest bordering the shimmering white sands of the beach. The person noticed the blackened features all over Shabuto, covered in soot, looking very confused and thirsty, so they pointed their sleeved hands toward the treetops above the lost boy, making a snipping motion with their hidden index and middle finger. A clutch of aguapalm fruits fell from the tree and landed right next to Shabuto and the masked figure kept it moving. Shabuto looked pretty rough for wear and aguapalms were some of the best, most refreshing fruits on the Archipelago. They grow in abundance and offer a delicious respite from the ocean's saltwater and intense sunlight. Hopefully it would soothe the weary traveler.

He had barely managed to get a few steps away from the tree before his peripheral caught a glimpse of another entity. He barely registered them being there, they barely made a sound, even if he had been in tip-top shape he doubted he would have registered their presence a moment earlier. His form instinctively became defensive, his guard raised unsure if this masked being was friend or foe, if anything on this island was a friend if they were all foes. He went for his weapon but it wasn't on his person, probably lost by whatever means brought him here. It was then he heard the snapping of the branches above him, he thought he had been attacked, fearful as he barely held the energy to stand let alone defend himself until several fruits fell from the tree tops above. He stared wearily at the traveler, What are they doing?

"...."

He didn't say anything initially, slowly he crouched down grabbing one of the fruits. He sniffed it a few times; it could have been poisonous, and this person was just trying to get a trespasser to take himself out through ignorance of the land. But, something ushered him to think otherwise. Wind naten coalesced at the tip of his finger creating a blade that he used to cut the fruit open before gorging himself. The cool juice soothed his dry throat like drinking from the fountain of youth. After scarfing down about three of them he felt his strength returning to him but the masked one kept moving. Shabuto tucked the last of the fruit under his arm.

"W-wait!"

He called out to the figure but by the time he finished the third one he had lost sight of them. They became his best lead in finding out where he was. He stood upright, the strength in his legs returned, and decided to go after them. Following through the brush of botany he last saw them travel through. He couldn't explain it, but after passing wind, every wave that hit the white sands, even the harness of the sun rays, felt like a call to him. He needed to keep going, sure that his answer lay deeper in.

“Busy,” the stranger said, mostly to themselves but probably within earshot of the trailing companion covered in soot. They looked worse for the wear, but seemed to perk up quickly after getting some food in them. They kept walking moving closer to the water’s edge to get the feel of the water on their exposed, seemingly taloned toes. Their leisurely pace traced the shore toward a set of buildings in the distance, sandy huts topped with dried leaves, simple but well crafted and manicured buildings with people running in and out of them in loose fitting, flowing clothing. The sun was bright in the sky, warm, but not burning. Salt on the air carried a delicious scent like the fruits of the aguapalm and some more rustic aromas, spiced and toasted, probably from within the huts themselves. Somebody was making lunch.

The masked person turned back once, just to see if Shabuto was still following and beckoned him further with a sleeved wave. “Food.”

He stayed on the masked one's trail, tailing not too close but not far enough to lose them in the greenery. The sun was..comforting. He saw the rise of hut creeping upon the horizon, forged from common material form what he could observe from here, but arranged with solid integration. Not the handiwork of unintelligent life. As they came closer to them the scent of cooking nearly intoxicated him. How long had it been since he had a cooked meal? Not since...since...

"Dammit, why can't I remember"

Like a thick fog, his memories were cloudy, no matter how he tried to reach for them, the details of his escapades up until now were as fleeting as trying to hold the wind. As they ventured close to the water's edge he caught a glimpse of his appearance in the clear waters. His hair was like a black cloud of smog, his eye, a harrowing piercing crimson. Flashes of a form completely arbitrary to the one he was looking at came to him. Which one was his original face? What..what had he become? What was he prior? It was then that the masked one beckoned him closer, to follow still only speaking the word, Food as if inviting him to this village.

He looked to his hand, the runic scarring on them yet it was a tongue he could not decipher. He resolved to keep his wits about him, that fretting over what was lost wouldn't do anything for him at present. Instead, he would accompany the mysterious figure, hopefully he wasn't being set up. It...wouldn't sit well with him having to harm anyone. So far, he didn't get the feeling of malicious intent, quite the contrary.

"Who are these people?"

The being before him seemed to only hold single-word answers, so his question was geared more toward himself than actually expecting the creature to respond to him. His curiosity getting the better of him caused him to put a bit more pep in his step walking a bit more gusto as his strength continued to return to him. It seems he would have to have patience. Right now, his focus should be getting his body back up to par... Hopefully, they weren't out to poison him.

"Family," the masked one said without missing a beat.

Their short hike on the white sands brought them to the door of the largest building in this clutch, wide and open with a tall, pitched ceiling. the masked one walked right through the cloths covered doorframe and a number of children spilled out with grilled fish on sticks on their hands, screaming joyously. The masked one ducked the doorframe, easily 3 heads taller than it, and let the children scurry out through and around their legs. Inside, they silently traced the wall and sat down on the floor, rather than in one of the chairs around the few tables in the space. There was a kiln in the middle of the room with a chimney leading out the top of the building, and a grill with a collection of colorful fish, fruits, and vegetables cooking marvelously. There was one individual manning the grill while other people sat around the other tables, eating, drinking, talking. The chef took a handful of spice from a bowl near him, tossed it onto the grilling food and closed the kiln to let them simmer. They turned to the rest of the crowd and wiped some sweat from their brow, moving their long, white hair from in front of their face. They spotted the masked one sitting down on the floor and their eyes lit up.

"Gunther! Right on time for lunch. The kids took the last of that batch, but we're just about ready for another." They spoke candidly and wiped their hands, taking a seat next to the kiln and reaching for a small book. Just as they were about to open it, they noticed the black haired one who entered the room behind Gunther, covered in soot and looking like they'd just taken quite the journey. "Hey there, you been playing in the caldera? You should go get cleaned up before you sit to eat."

The other people at the tables paid almost no mind, welcoming the guest with smiles and nods as they ate and chatted. They all looked related, various complexions of tan to brown skin, silver hair and light, colorful, clothing suited for the tropical climate. They all seemed to share some form of shimmering markings on their bodies somewhere that danced in the soft light of the kiln bouncing off of crystal light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. The table settings, utensils, and wall furnishings seemed to be made from a combination of wood, leaves, and a glassy material that resembled the markings on some of the people in the room. The whole room looked looked crafted from a single set, everything meshed together and complemented one another so nicely, it would be hard for anyone to find something out of place aside from the black haired person who just walked in behind Gunther.

Shabuto's eyes widened as he approached the enclave of folks, children littered the area in a glee that was both strange to see and somewhat comforting. Looking around he witnessed just how vastly different he was from everyone else here, they all bore similar features, crowns adorned in silver or whitish locs. He must've looked like an anomaly to them, yet they didn't hesitate, not even for a moment to welcome him. Was such kindness truly possible on this planet?

"F-family?"

The words drifted from his mouth a tone that carried an indescribable weight as he noticed the food and the chief. His mind became racked with images once more, this time flashes of a young body with a glowing mark upon his back similar to the marks of the others. A child, happy frolicking with the others, and two mysterious figures watching their fun from the sidelines. In this vision he fell, scrapping his knee and to the surprise of the two figures who rushed to his side catering to his wounds. The woman dried his tears the man nursed his wound their faces blurred but the love and care they held for him was as bright as the sun.

It's ok, little Shabuto...there...all better?"

"Hey there, you been playing in the caldera? You should go get cleaned up before you sit to eat."

The images subsided and Shabuto felt a stinging pain in his chest that evolved into a pressure in his chest. He looked at his hands, and before he knew it, tears were falling into his palm streaming from his eyes.

"Am I...crying?"

It was almost like he was in a trance, these surging emotions, foreign to him, it wasn't sadness though. Was it joy? He couldn't say, he couldn't remember the last time he shed tears let alone the reason for them.

"I'm sorry, where can I freshen up?"

He asked attempting to wipe his face only to smudge the soot from his hands on his cheeks.

“Just go take a dip in the ocean. I’ll have someone bring you out some new clothes,” the chef said, a lightness in his tone that expected their guest to recognize the wealth of clear water all around them. The Marlboro Archipelago had the distinct benefit of being surrounded by a unique current that washed most of not all of the waste and impurities away from the shore. Saltwater surrounded the islands in the Marlo Sea, but the white sands and unique currents treated the shoreline like a a filter, leaving it lightly salted, potable, and crystal clear.

The chef waved his hand to a younger individual who moved to a wardrobe lining the wall and found a top and pants similar to the pieces adorning the rest of the people in the hut before tending to the grill again. The one retrieving the clothes tossed them over their shoulder, grabbed a pair of light footwear, and followed Shabuto outside with two skewers in hand, their own half eaten and another fresh one for Shabuto when they were done.

“Nobody taught you to rinse before dinner?”

He quickly gathered himself, a bit embarrassed that he would even be c=be crying let alone be caught doing so in front of a bunch of strangers. But seeing the native going about their daily lives living in such peaceful unity stirred something in him that was difficult for him to ignore. Words like "family" and "home" tugged at his heartstrings in a way that was hard to describe. He made his way to the waters, accompanied by one of the strange fellows who brought with him a change of clothes and some food to share. As they neared the white sand edge he could feel a slight ripple echoing through his body, like there was a cadence something like rhythm in the way things flowed here. From the sway of the ocean to the carrase of the winds the stranger's question stole his attention.

"I...can't remember"

It was like a thick fog preventing him from recalling his life before, no matter how he tried to focus or sift through the amnesia all he could make out were scattered images of things he could scarcely recognize, where there should be faces only bodies with blurred heads. He dipped his toe in the water, it was cool but not freezing, he removed his clothing, and his body rolled with a combination of scars and runic markings. He wasn't bashful and didn't think twice about disrobing in front of a stranger. As the waters touched his skin the dirt began washing from him. Was it ok for him to be taking it so easy? He couldn't help but feel there was something he was meant to be doing, something important. Harping over it seemed to do little more than deepen his stress and so he would resolve for now to just enjoy this little moment of peace while he still could. He submerged himself under the surface of the ocean, and when he reemerged his thick curl pattern that swirled like clouds became even more defined.

"..."

The rays of the sun felt like the hug of a distant friend as he made his way back to the white sands, sparkling like the dust of diamonds. He walked over to the person who had been following him.

"Who are you people anyway? Why are you being so nice to a total stranger?"

His eye drifted to his hands.

"Aren't...aren't you afraid of me?"

A question was asked but for a reason that wasn't entirely clear to him. Perhaps it was because they all looked so similar and he was completely foreign. Were they foolhardy? Or so powerful that they felt they had little to worry about should their home be threatened.

“Yikes, I guess the caldera fried your brain for real,” the person said taking a bite of the skewer they kept for themselves. “You’re not the first, nor the last to try to weather its heat.”

They watched the dirt and soot wash from him into the water and slowly disappear into the sand, filtered out by the archipelago’s natural currents. Should they be afraid of this person had yet to be seen, but the people of the islands were more than capable of assessing new challenges or danger. Whatever the case, their guest looked far more tired than threatening, they had no reason to fear him.

“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.”

They mentioned their tribe only because they were asked, their generosity and curious nature were nurtured in everyone from a very young age, the Archipelago held dangers far worse than they could do to one another. Since he suffered from apparent memory issues, the person refrained from passing vocal judgment over Shabuto, but the fumes that poured from the caldera rarely induced amnesia. Something more seemed to be at work here.