Veristrix the Dai Sensei of the Miyama Ryu, Imperial Shadow Lord

Title History

Role

Chapter 3

"The price that we pay for our survival, for our freedom, is everything," the
old shaman says as he huddles closer to the fire. "From our roost, the great
Skyborn had spawned..." A chattering of angry chirrups interrupts the shaman
at the mention of the Skyborn Lord. "And where is he now? The Azure Fields,
while his own roost lives in exile." His hands tremble with emotion as his
grip tightens on the gnarled staff in his hand. "We don't need the Skyborn. We
have each other! We have within our bloodline those of us that are ordained by
Fate to protect us." He motions around him to encompass those of us closest to
the fire. "Blackbirds, Mistfeathers! Like the Skyborn has abandoned us, we
will abandon you to the world. But you will know the reason, and you will know
your purpose. You are our saviors, blessed children! You are to venture into
the wide world in order to keep the world blind to our existence. Each of you
will sacrifice everything. Each of you will abandon who you are and will
become who we need you to be. Each of you will be assigned a life, and you
will lead it as though it was one of your choosing. For this, all we can do is
thank you, heroes."

****

It is dark, but I have caught the last fish. My wings tremble with exhaustion,
but I do not land until Father nods his approval. The whole roost is landed
now and they surround me. They are ready to see me off, my time has come.

"We abandon you to join the Empire," Father says in the dead of the night.
"They are too close to us and will betray our presence to Ayr'Trinil to gain
diplomatic favor. This must not come to pass. You will join the Shadows and
work to this end and to align the Empire in opposition to our ancient enemy.
To this end you will sacrifice everything."

Father looks deep into my eyes. He knows me since I had come to this world,
since the first dark feather had shown on my wing. He is the only Whitefeather
of our roost that would speak directly to us, the rest always bow in reverence
and kept their silence. Through him the roost speaks. He puts his hand on my
shoulder briefly and speaks my name for the first time.

"A life has been given, Veristrix".

Role

Chapter 2

My thudding heart is all that I can hear as I cut off my scream and draw in
breath. I can see the shadow, I must not blink. I must not think, the trained
body knows.

Salt stings my eyes as the terrible water parts before my dive. My beak snaps,
catching its prey. It wriggles, it fights in vain, death has come for it from
above. I heave with my wings in the constricting blue. Once, twice, three
times until I breach the surface again, then freed I heave once more. I am
airborne, shivering from the cold and the thrill of the large fish trashing in
my beak. A chorus of approving twittering greets me from above as I soar up
toward the top of the cliff.

***

When still young, we are all taken to Ayr'Trinil in disguise to see the price
of defeat. We see the flamboyantly feathered and entitled bloodlines lording
over their roost. We see how they oppress those of plain feathers and
prominent beaks. Then we are taken back, across Gol'galath Pass and the elven
woods, then eastward and south. We always walk on foot when we enter the
Imperial Lands from its northern reaches. We are told to keep our eyes open.
And just as we would prepare for the short flight eastward to our home, an
elder would ask "What do Ayr'Trinil and this place have in common?"

***

I toss the large fish at Father's feet and I fight the strong wind to hover in
place. I will not touch the ground. One of the arial circling overhead dives
and snatches the fish.

"Again," Father says.

"Kee-eeeee-arr," I screech as I dive back toward the water of hate and fear.
Today, I will face them. Today, *I* will feed my people.

Role

Chapter 1

The wind is angry on the high cliff overlooking the sea. Who would think, a
bird can be afraid that high. Not from the wind or the drop, but of the sea,
of that deep blue below. Father is next to me, his great white wings spread
wide, defying the wind like a true master of the sky. He flies only when he
decides to. He lets loose a fierce screech. "Keee-iiii!" It pulls on the soul
of the other arial and a chorus of cries sound in return.

"It is time," he tells me even though I know.

He waits for a moment, then says "Face the fear," and pushes me off the cliff.
I know to expect the push, it still manages to catch me unaware and the body
reacts in panic. A shrill chwirk rips from my throat, and then another one,
and another. The avian body knows the wind. The mind doesn't need to engage,
it can only impede. The wings spread out on their own, the body flips
naturally in a soaring position. To hesitate is to die, I know this.

"Kee-eeeee-arr!" I screech as I flip and dive toward the terrifying foaming
white and blue below.

***

When asked about most war-like creatures, only few would say arial. But what
would they know. How many of them have heard of the War of the Winds, the war
in which we decimated two-thirds of our own race? They wouldn't know the depth
to which that wound still run. How could they understand that a sharp and
prominent beak, a predators pride, is still considered a mark of ugliness
among our kind. Roosted on the northern cliffs of the Dragon Sea, we have
survived for centuries. And there is only one price for our
survival--everything.

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