Private When Stars Fall

[Bastian of the Boughs]

It was late at night when the stars began to fall. ​

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High up above, a sudden flash of lightning jumped from Dagda, the desolate moon, and that was when it all began. At once they were rounded up, those already fortunate enough to have been granted reprieve to rest roused while slaves such as Bastian who were still hard at work found themselves dragged from their humble posts where they were manhandled into action. All hands on deck was the term best used for the whole operation, even the slavers were up and about, and their overlords too.​

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Bastian could not help but feel... confused. He had never been part of one of the star-gathering expeditions before, simply because the trajectory of their fall never landed close enough to their forestry colony for it to be worth it. This one though? This one landed smack dab in the middle of the forest, their forest, and if they did not act now then the other tribes would no doubt seek to capitalize upon it.​

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One man among many equine, the boy stood out like a sore thumb. His otherworldliness had done him no favours, he was shunned by slave and slaver alike, often given the nastiest of the tasks to complete, or the most backbreaking. He was strong though, durable, and he did not balk at all he was asked to do. In fact, the boy hardly spoke at all. When he did it was by choice in the tongue of the Shaal, his native tongue, but that earned him quite a beating should their Masters overhear. One would assume then that he would whistle like the native Zaathri, that it would be their tongue he fell upon, slavespeak as the Masters claimed, but the Zaathri hated that too.​

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He could do no right where speech was concerned, better he remain silent, then. Better he remain mute.​

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The butt of a spear struck his lower back, pulling him from those thoughts and urging him on at a faster pace. "Zreek asur perr"[1] the overseer snapped, gesturing with the tip of his spear toward a particularly heavy looking box. When Bastian took too long to approach it that butt struck his stomach and left him keeled over and winded. "Y muoi zreek lo perr, Zaath. Koarce."[2] The boy did not have to be told twice, even before he could properly begin to breathe again he hurried forth to lift the box. It took great effort, but soon he had it hefted up and supported upon one of his shoulders, freeing up one of his hands and keeping his back from becoming too bent.​

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So it was that the slaves of Vassia were marched on toward the fallen stars, through the dead of night and into the dawn where smoke choked the air and fallen trees lay strewn around.​

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Janus ​

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[1] Pick it up​

[2] I said pick it up, slave. Now.​

 

[Janus]

It was all a haze for a moment as he pushed up slowly against the weight of something. They'd needed to stop for water, something had malfunctioned they couldn't fix on the move. Instead of heading back into more known space to get it fixed they'd decided to simply siphon some off a near by world. Then. Well then he didn't know what happened. Something hit them, and alarms went off as the pilot tried desperately to put them down safety.

Blinking as he looked around through the smoke and fire he felt like the pilot had done quite the job keeping any of them alive. Wiping away a streak of blood from his face he blinked quickly as he tried to readjust to his surroundings. He was still inside the ship, and remarkably it was still in one piece, or at least the cockpit was.

Checking himself over one last time for any broken bones or more cuts he saw a few others start to stir as he let out a low roar of pain. "Everyone alive?"

A half dozen voices answered in various levels of consciousness. They were already luckier then they had any right to be. Standing up completely Janus slowly moved to the exit the cockpit as his mind fell on the mass of the colonist in the belly of the ship. In fear for them he tried to move quickly when a sharp pain moved through his head. Taking a minute he looked over at the others. "Damage report, and any word from the colonists?"

A wretched cough from the pilot brought out a spittle of blood as she shook her head. "The ship is dead, whatever hit us took out the engines completely in the first few shots. According to the system before the crash there was simply no readings aft of the ship, I think the whole tail end is gone. The others should be about as well as we are though. Luckily the repulsorlifts kept alive until we nearly hit ground. She's dead, but we're ok." Looking over to a blinking red light she shrugged rather sarcastically. "We need to get out soon though if we'd like to stay that way. The fire will spread from the aft shortly."

Lovely

Janus considered for a moment that he likely had a concussion as they all began to move out towards the exit. Before they reached the crew quarters though they found most of them heading for them, likely as not to see if they were alive as well. Others took charge for the moment as Janus simply left under prods and guiding hands. Something was pressed into his head and as he heard a whirl he felt a bit better, a bit more clear, and the bleeding stopped. For several more minutes he closed his eyes and let his mind clear completely as what could be taken from the ship was. Eventually a voice interrupted his moment .

"Most of the food and basics made it, but the heavier equipment is all busted or simply too large to get out before the ship fills with smoke and fire completely. Sorry about your ship, Janus, but we'll survive at least."

HIs ship, now that was a problem. How was he supposed to get work now, or get the rest of their people? Sith spit, how was he going to get them back off this world. Shaking his head slowly he put all of that aside, now they needed to focus on surviving.

"Get everyone outside with the equipment, and make sure everyone's armed. Something shot us down so I'd call this a hostile world."

That pissed him off, and that helped. He tried to touch the the dark side, and even in honesty the Force as little a possible. Right now though, he could use some clarity and strengthening. "Tools, weapons, medical supples and food, whatever everyone can carry in one trip only, we need to get away from this so basics only. Who knows if someone is going to come hunting us down of they just think we're already dead."

It didn't take long after it became clear that they could only take what they could carry before about five hundred Cathar began to move away from the crash. Most of the adult population of their people, and until they stopped no one would even be able to take a head count. A dozen or so Cathar lay on hovering crates acting as gurneys. It could have been worse, far worse.

With a great sigh they began to move into the forest, and yet in that sigh he smelled something on the wind. His hair bristled as he reached for his side arm and many others did the same. It was a hopeless fight likely given the power of those weapons in space as most of them only had blaster pistols, but they were Cathar, they would fight to the bitter end.

Bastian of the Boughs Darien Cordel

 

[Bastian of the Boughs]

Ler Samati was a different kind of crazy.​

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Malformed at birth, he had developed overtime a far more chitinous exterior than the rest of the Shaal in his brood, keratin spines protruded from his shoulders and along his spine, while hardened skin formed natural pauldrons atop his shoulders. His face did little to help keep the boogieman stories from circulating through the slave camps, too, permanently set into an unnatural scowl, his non-existent lips were ever pulled down to leave his cracked yellow teeth on show.​

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It would have been easy for him to be ostracized, and truth be told in those first formative years he was. Left to one side with the hopes that he would die while still a babe, given just the dregs their society had to offer. But he was nothing if not determined, nothing if not a fighter. As he grew he set all others in their place, a frenzied barbarian he cared not for any harm sent his way and would give it back in turn, often threefold if not more.​

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Enough cracked skulls left in his wake secured him an uneasy respect from his peers. Now, well into middle age, he was a formidable foe and all knew to fear him. His name, or perhaps more his deformities, preceded him, and on the field of battle it was he most sought to avoid.​

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This was not battle. That he had come to the forestry colony at all had been quite the surprise, it seemed so far removed from his typical haunts, and yet it was there he was, and as the stars fell it was alongside that colony he marched.​

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Bastian could feel his sickly yellow gaze upon him, burning holes into the back of his head. He tried not to think about it, tried to ignore it, but it seemed the more he sought to block it out the more incessant that burning became. It was worse than the choking smoke in the air, which burned both lungs and eyes, that left him coughing far worse than the Zaathri and the Shaal, his constitution was weaker than both of Zaathru's natives.​

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As the fallen stars came into view, that coughing became a gasp of surprise. It was like nothing the boy had ever seen.​

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"Unk asur osiper"[1] he was commanded, to which he sank to his knees and allowed the heavy chest to slip free to the ground. He remained that way, knelt in submission, as his overseer moved to open the box. The Shaal faltered, however, when a grizzly voice ordered him to "Voyvir lo!"[2]​

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Bastian had yet to hear the voice of General Samati, but the moment he heard it he knew it was his. It sent a shiver down his spine, spreading like lightning through his nerves until he sank lower still. Groveling at this point, Bastian dared not move another inch. He held his breath and waited as heavy, cloven feet stomped closer.​

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"Lishma lo"[3] Ler demanded, words pooling down to Bastian specifically. The boy swallowed, nerves causing a war to wage within him. Ultimately he pushed on through, and though he lifted up enough to open the box he did not rise very much at all, nor did he allow his eyes to look upon Shaal or box. With a thump one of the Shaal's feet set against the top of the box, and then with a hefty push it toppled over while the contents spilled into the dirt.​

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A myriad of tools were sprawled before boy and Shaal, the likes of which Bastian had never before seen. They were not the tools of a tree feller, log splitter, or board maker. In fact, they were not so crude as most of what their colony owned.​

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Crouching down, Ler plucked up one of the tools and then shoved it at Bastian. "Ebi rass yrvi koarce, atiro"[4] he stated rather simply, a low and possessive growl undercutting the words. "Sact te kursh."[5]​

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It was alongside Ler that Bastian came upon the fallen star, only much to his surprise they were not the only ones there. Strange beasts, covered in fur like an animal but upright like a Shaal, were gathering around the remains, and with a hiss the Shaal guards raised their spears and swords.​

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"PALI DOV ALA"[6] the head overseer claimed, "Ebi pyva voyvir, xu alat pyva ranopse ebi."[7] It did not occur to the Shaal that these strangers would not speak their tongue.​

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[1] Put that down​

[2] Leave it!​

[3] Open it​

[4] You are mine now, boy​

[5] Get to work​

[6] This is ours​

[7] You will leave, or we will make you​

 

[Janus]

He was hurt and angry, a bad combination for most. Janus knew how to draw upon it though, he just found it distasteful. Still at this time there was no choice and so he sucked his pain and rage in and felt the fire blood within him. Whatever they were were yelling at them and seemed to be armed with the most basic of weapons. He didn't need to understand what they were saying to understand how hostile it was. A wiser or more patient Cathar might have tried to communicate and explain the situation. Janus was proud and headstrong, and all he saw were enemies taking their goods.

Lifting a his blaster he reached out with a hand and let his rage flow as he lifted up the speaker slowly took aim and fired a bolt of energy through it's head. With great roars the night air filled with light as hundreds of blaster pistols and the very few rifles they could get out fired unceremoniously at this new enemy. There were those who seemed to fire less often and even look confused at this first movement, but they were swallowed by the crowd who followed in the violence.

These weren't professional soldiers and many more missed then hit their mark, and yet still the toll would be sudden and brutal. After a few blasts with a great roar Janus lifted up another and held up a hand signaling his people to stop. They were an unorganized clan of fighters, and it took nearly a minute for the last blaster to fire. Stepping forward he lifted his blaster again to point at the creature's face.

"Death or answers, now." It did occur to Janus they couldn't understand him, he was honestly hoping they couldn't. Then again even with blasters they were few against many. Even still his rage stoked him onwards but he fought against it, for the good of his people of course.

Bastian of the Boughs

 

[Bastian of the Boughs]

It all happened at once, and quite suddenly. Strange devices were pulled forth, the speaker raised from his feet into the air, and with a sharp sound the air exploded into bright lights that left devastation in their wake. Bastian stood and stared until he was shoved down by a rough hand. "Ebi rass yrvi" Ler reminded the boy, "Y udi osia aiku yrv ionulvi voya." {You are mine. I do not let my things go.}​

Kept from the fire, with Ler towering over him, Bastian did not see much of anything until the damage was already done. For his part the chitinous Shaal had enough sense not to barge forward in hopes of attacking their attackers, not when they wielded such otherworldly devices, though the same could not be said for many of the others and the slaves at their disposal. The ground was filled with Zaathri, either dead or groaning, and a few overseers among them.​

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The one who had been raised was fumbling, one word in particular set upon his lips. "Gekni" the Shaal was saying, an odd layer of fear and reverence overcoming his tone, "Gekni..." {God}​

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Around him the surviving members of the tribe fell to their knees, groveling at the foot of the stranger from beyond. Gekni they cried, in chorus, Gekni...​

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Even Ler came to a knee, though he did not fall so deeply as the rest. He was a proud man, even where the divines were concerned, they had scorned him once already at birth and he stood as a shining example of what one could do in the face of their holy trials. Blessed by the Gods, that was what they claimed of Ler.​

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The malformed Shaal then drew upon what he did not know to be the Force, and when he spoke it was understood by both natives and foreigners alike. "You who fall from the stars, and rain fire from your hands, we sit now at your feet. We are blessed, we few survivors of Vassia, to lay ourselves before a God. By what are we to know you, Your Holiness? What is it you would ask of us?"​

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Janus ​

 

[Janus]

The smell of scorched wounds filled the air, and some blood type he'd never smelled before. All that seemed simple compared to the sudden speech that came from this creatures mouth. The other Cathar mumbled among themselves, but again Janus rose a hand up as his mind focused on what he knew to be best. An Elder of the clan would have spoken anyway, but there were none left here. Only one had joined them on their journey into the stars to provide wisdom, and the rest had stayed behind to help keep the young while a new home was found. The group didn't know but the poor Elder's heart had failed as they fell from the heavens, and without his wisdom strength seemed to prevail.

He could feel the Force in his words and while he didn't quite understand it he could feel it and project it back, or at the least attempt to. He projected his voice to reach the whole mass as he spoke filling his voice with the Force even as he was unsure what he was exactly doing. "We are Cathar, and I am Janus, and you have sinned against us." He wasn't the greatest orator, but he paused as he let that sink into them. Fear had a way of robbing a person of their wits, and even as those behind him looked around uncertain of his embrace of this godhood they dared not speak. They were still few against many, what choices did they have but to trust that Janus would deliver them to safety. After all he was the only one who seemed able to speak to the anyway.

Taking a step forward he rose the floating creature higher still until he floated far above the group. It was a strain, and normally would have been beyond his training, but pain and anger were an endless fuel at the moment. "You will lift these burdens and carry them to your home, and there we shall stay before returning to the stars."

He had no idea what they would need to get back off the planet, but for now a safe base of operations was needed. That and keeping the ship safe so they could try to repair it. "This site is holy, and not to be tread by you or any of your kind again. To do so will be to welcome my wrath." Moving his eyes to the speaker he growled low, but he was unsure of his next words. After all they all might be able to use the force and do this, but the other hadn't been able to. "As you have been blessed with the ability to speak the tongue of the gods you will speak for you people in all things with me. Lies however will bring about eternal pain and torture for your disloyalty."

He could have made a dozen missteps, but he needed to create a foundation that would last long enough to get off this backwards rock, and perhaps even more important help them to get past those gun emplacements. Behind him his clan stirred uneasily, but they didn't speak up. They were locked into this now, and into his leadership. To do else wise would expose the lie, and they knew the only way that would end.

Bastian of the Boughs

 

[Bastian of the Boughs]

Ler was quick to size up the individual before them, this divine being from beyond the Stars, and he soon knew who it was they were speaking with. He called himself Janus, called his tribe Cathar, but the Shaal knew him by another name and it was by such that he addressed him now. "Holy Virotutis, God of Light, Oaths, and Loyalty," he stated, and around him a gasp was heard from the others who quietly called Virotutis like a hymn, "We shall carry your burdens, and you shall know our home as your own."​

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Something else happened then, when it was claimed that Ler would be the one to speak with this God, the leader of the Vassia tribe turned to him and immediately relinquished the beads from around his own throat to set them over Ler's head. "Usul Samati" the elder stated, as he handed over his title and position to the previous outsider. Ler held his head higher for it, and nodded once in acceptance of this new role.​

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"See His Holinesses things carted back home," he commanded, "Give him the home of the Usul," he knew that meant he would not get that space for himself, but Ler was spartan and did not care at all, "And find places for his brethren to rest until homes can be erected for all." At once those he now governed rose to their feet and hurried forth to take the supplies so that none of the Cathar need burden themselves. "And have the healers assembled at once. See our dead burned."​

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The various overseers began to take charge of different aspects, some moved to find those Shaal and Zaathri who still lived from among the dead and wounded, some set about hefting the felled trees to create a pyre, and others stepped forth to tend to any wounded among Virotutis' Cathar. For the most part though they were haulers.​

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As they moved, Ler kicked Bastian into motion and the boy was fast on his feet. "Zreek rais adrass perr ik vima odiir yra" {Pick them back up and then follow me} he commanded, gesturing to the trunk of tools which had been spilled over, "Voyvir yrv vark ik ebi pyva krive vek pallow." {Leave my side and you will know no mercy} Paling the boy hurried to do as he had been bid, he gathered up the various tools, dropping one here and there in his haste, and soon he had the trunk back upon his shoulder as he followed after his new Master. Not a single word had left the boy, nor had his former Master stepped forth to reclaim him. No, this was his life now.​

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"Your most Holy Eminence," Ler said, as he came to a halt before Janus, "We have no litter with which to carry you, and for this I must apologize. One shall be erected in your honour. If you would follow us now, we shall lead you back to Vassia, our home, where you will find refreshments and rest aplenty."​

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Janus ​

 

[Janus]

It was all done so fast, far faster then even he thought possible, but it was the only available path forward. Stepping forward he looked over the addition to his people and he was puzzled for a moment over whether this truly made them his as well. If it did he was as bound to them as they to him. It was odd that they chose oaths, but it was fitting.

His speaker or priest? Whatever he was he organized them quickly and efficiently, Janus approved of that he'd lucked into a good choice. "Litters are for the weak who fear to walk among their people. How can I know my people from walking with my head above theirs? There will be no litter, for I have chosen you, and you have chosen me. Therefore I will walk among you, and know you."

It was a calculated move to take on two things at once in his mind. His own people would undoubtedly be offset by this new godhood he'd been forced to claim, and yet they'd find comfort in that he wasn't separating himself and putting himself above them. The other was that he did need to understand these people who had just declared him a god to find out what was expected, and how much maneuvering room he had.

With a loud roar he used the Force to strengthen out over the forest he called attention back to him. Moving a hand up to his face he covered his hand in his own blood before pressing it against the chest of his Usul if he understood that correctly. It left a firm red paw print there and he nodded in approval.

"With this shall your people know you as my chosen. So long as you are loyal and your oaths are true you shall remain my chosen. We Cathar do not live beneath the trees, but above them in their branches. Our homes will be built there, and those whom earn our trust and loyalty may as well."

Taking a step past him he reached into the box the... human? Yes it was apparently, but that was a question for another time. He reached into the box and pulled out a medical tool he imagine they'd find akin to magic as he walked over to the nearest wounded and sealed a large cut with a slow movement. Turning to his people he waved them towards the crate. Luck would have it that they'd stumble upon the medical supplies.

He couldn't speak to his fellow clan members now, and they knew it as well so the handful with real medical training moved forward and began to spread out actually doing what they could to heal their own and the natives. "And just was you will be loyal and fulfill your oaths to me and my people we shall keep ours to you. If you are a fickle people though leave now or my justice shall come down on you like a falling star."

Bastian of the Boughs

 

[Bastian of the Boughs]

Ler stared at the Cathar for a moment when he declared that no litter would be necessary, almost as though he was sizing him up. He wasn't, in fact after the initial surprise fell away his ever-frowning lips pulled up into a grim smile of appreciation. "Hear that?" he said, turning back to face the former Usul of the tribe, "Even one so Divine understands the strength in ones actions, in leading by example. We are not a lazy people, we are strong, we are proud, and so too is our God!"​

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The former Usul hung his head, it was well known that he was the type to lounge around, to lay upon litters and be fed by the hands of another. Ler would not follow in his footsteps, and it was good to know that such sentiments were shared by the great Virotutis.​

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When the blood came, Ler lifted his head a touch so as to give their God full access to him. An oath shared both ways, he was dubbed the deity's Chosen, an honour never before known to one of this tribe nor the one he'd been raised within. "I am as known for my loyalty as my ferocity, Your Eminence," he assured him, dipping his head into a gentle bow of reverence, "I will fight for you, in your name, from this day forth."​

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Bastian by this point had caught up, he remained several steps behind his new Master with his head hung. When he heard heavy steps, those not made from the cloven hooves of the Shaal or Zaathri, he could not help but lift his head and he stared in awe and surprise at the God, unable to look away.​

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"Irik ebba wuski, atiro, ebi rass zaath - talmit jevirin te ebba lepitov" {Bow your head boy, you are slave - show respect to your betters} Ler spat, tone low and words growled as he tore a spear from the hands of one of the warriors and turned the tip to the boys' throat. Bastian's head actually lifted slightly, if only to avoid being cut, but the moment that the spear was pulled back he hung it low. Set down the box when others came forth, and dropped into a grovel beside it.​

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His Master set the butt of his spear against his back, to keep him pressed down into the dirt. Clearly none had taught this boy respect, the Usul pondered, that would change and fast.​

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Janus ​

 

[Janus]

Slave. So they were a culture who had embraced that idea and new he was tied to them. Slavery wasn't something he agreed with, but his people were known for respecting the ways of others and so even though he found it distasteful he would not force them to change. Time and unity changed such things, force and fear only made things worse in the end. To obey or die was no less a slavery then this, and he had just tied an entire people to that. It didn't mean he wouldn't make an effort to guide them if he found them a cruel people, but he was also well aware he was no real god.

He gave the medics time to work as those saved now might not have fared so well if they traveled all the way to this village. He did take the time though to look up into the great trees that soared overhead. They were lucky the ship hadn't crashed into one of those and set fire to the whole thing. They've have never escaped with any hope of keeping their supplies or wounded from that mess.

While he waited one of the medics began fusing his wound across his forehead and he considered the natives before speaking. "Tell me, my chosen, of your clan and your people. Are you a great clan or a sapling still growing towards the stars?"

The sooner he learned of them the better it would be, missteps at this time could be fatal, literally. As much as they had been placed in his hands, his own clan was in theirs. Many could call him headstrong, proud and passionate, and they were right. He could bite back at times though for his own people, the whole was more then any individual, even him.

Bastian of the Boughs

 

[Bastian of the Boughs]

"As I am sure Your Eminence is well aware," Ler began, when probed on the state of the tribe he had just come to govern, "Ours is a fresh faced tribe, formed on the need for lumber; what we lack in numbers, and years, we more than make up for in duty and loyalty, this I swear to you, Great Virotutis." No doubt many would have preferred that anyway, Ler knew he did. These were people readily able to be molded, and already the Usul was pondering the path forward with himself as the spearhead.​

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Forestry was well and good, and it was something he would upkeep, but he saw in them a potential for more. They had a fight in them, this morning's show made that much clear as they had fought even in the face of unmatched odds.​

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"Our people, the great and noble Shaal, lay claim over this world and its people," his eyes fell over to the equine Zaathri, slaves they had wrangled many generations prior, "Those we own are at your disposal, oh Holy One, do with them as you please." Glancing down at the boy beneath his spear, pressing a little harder into his back, Ler contemplated keeping this one off limits but for now decided against it. The other Shaal would know better than to touch one owned by Ler, yet if the God of Light found use for him then who was he to stop him? So long as he was returned where he belonged.​

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Down on the ground, Bastian bit back a soft whine as the butt of the spear dug in. It was the most noise he'd made all day.​

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When the healers had tended to what they could, and the Godly doctors had done their miracles, attention was turned toward the trek back home. Ler waited until the very last moment before raising up his spear. "Ze ebba mund" {On your feet} he ordered, and when Bastian did as he was bid he tapped the heavy box and the boy silently lifted it. It was heavier now than before, he could feel himself practically sinking into the mossy ground at his feet. Feet which were kept bare, after all neither Shaal nor Zaathri had need for shoes so why then should this boy receive such?​

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Janus ​

 

[Janus]

For the first moments since this had all started Janus had a moment to think, really think about what was going on around him. He had no doubt his people would have objections, but they were all stuck in his decision now. There was tangible benefits to it, very strong ones in fact, but that wouldn't make anyone else happier about it. Much less how he did it. He hadn't really intended to claim leadership in such a way for all of them, or make himself a god over them, but he had. He wasn't even officially leader of the expedition, much less the clan. A council of Elders lead the clan as a whole, and one of their numbers had been appointed to lead the expedition to start a new colony. He however was dead, and to say the Council would absolutely be displeased with Janus' decisions was putting it mildly.

The oldest were in fact already quite peeved at the amount of influence Janus had since he had started smuggling in medicine and food, but they were now the majority. The youngest of the Council could in fact barely be called Elders, and their blood had yet to cool. He could simply try to fix the ship and back out of it all just by leaving, but the opportunity here was unmatched.

This seemed like a virgin world apart from the weapons that had blasted them out of the sky. If he could find a way back and forth beyond it though this would be the perfect home for his clan. It was safe and untouched. Either these people had devolved technology wise the the point they were back at the bronze age basically, or they were simply being observed. Whoever the observers were didn't matter as they were obviously long gone. Of course that required a very long game of pretending to be a God. On the other hand the job made itself, so he simply had to mold it into what was best for his people. All he needed was for them to go along with it.

This first problem was the obvious issue of him not being all knowing and aware. His speaker of course automatically believed he knew things, possibly everything. This had to be dealt with quickly, no matter how cautious he was eventually it would be obvious this was not the truth. "In truth, my Chosen, I know little of your tribe or even your world. There are billions of stars out there, and worlds beyond count up in the heavens. Even a sun only rules over one system of planets at a time, and so is true of gods. Imagine it like an army, your lower ranks know their men well for there are fewer under them, but those who stand among the highest ranks see numbers and logistics. Even for a god this is true, and even more true in his avatar."

He had caught that bit and it created a great relief in him. It wasn't the God dying when his body did, just the avatar, and that perhaps would be seen as acceptable. "We traveled here from another world looking for a better place to rule and guide a new people. Such are we pleased at find your people, great was your courage to charge us, and yet you did not flee even when you realized your plight. Instead wisdom reigned and you submitted to my will."

My. I. Me. My people. He kept falling into the same trap, and a part of him didn't feel it was as innocent as he thought. After all things would be much simpler without a council to constantly stop progress would it not? That wasn't fair though, and he knew it. The Elders did the best they could, and the decline of his clan had been caused by exterior factors out of their control. In there place he could have done nothing different.

As everyone started to move Janus moved his eyes to the obviously tortured slave and decided that some molding was needed here though. It was one thing not to force change on a culture and an entirely different one not to influence it for the better at all. "Why do you treat your slave such, Chosen? Do you not gain your slaves in battle? Are they not brave enemies captured by strength of arms and honor? Or do you breed them like animals? Or has this one rebelled before forcing your hand? Even a slave must be treated at least like a beast of the fields. Clothed, fed and bedded properly that they will be loyal and strong. Order is necessary and good, but it must also be just. You might fear me and obey me if I crushed more of your fighting spirit with violence, but then you would lose that great strength of spirit and be lesser for it. We shall learn from each other, and I will withhold judgement upon your ways until I fully understand them. I do suggest you meditate upon my words though and consider for a moment their strength as a part of your own."

Bastian of the Boughs