tembovu

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.

Long, sweeping strides of the Elephant wound his heavy body though the trees. By now, it had become a mindless walk, his body finally at home and at ease among the thick trunks. At first it had been so different from the pains of Dorobo— one could walk in an unwavering line forever there. No obstacles stood in one’s path. But here, in the misty forests of the Edge, it had taken time for the giant to learn to weave effortlessly through the trees.

But he had learned. There had been much to think on since he had arrived to Helovia, and thus much time to spend drifting between trees while lost in thought. Today was no exception, as ideas of leadership and axioms waxed and waned through his large skull. Though he had settled himself mentally into the role of lead and acknowledged the need for generalized ideals, he was not sure as to what those should be.

His maxim had been revenge and destruction until he came here. How did one build things? That was a much tougher question, indeed.

The Edge followed the shadowed path of the Moon. He had seen her at the Rift battle— had even felt gratitude towards her when she healed his melting flesh. Despite the history of her murders and devious nature, he had not encountered such things with her. Though he had felt the destructive and cold edge of her power when the Glazier magic had flowed through him.

It had been a relief to feel it drain out of him when he had mentally accepted the role of King. It had been one of the few, redeeming aspects of taking Mauja’s crown. It did not feel right to take purpose from a broken man… But not all men are created the same. Some seek purpose and labor when shattered. Others seek solitude and reflection.

Dark blue eyes blink rapidly against the sudden brightness as he breaks from the trees. A vision of their awe-inspiring cliffs blazes into his stunned retinas. As the sunspots clear, a large equine comes into focus beside him. It is nearly as large as himself and built as sturdy as his heavy frame.

Thickly horned head swivels to look at this newcomer— he must be a recruit he had not yet met. He almost frowned at the thought, for surely leaders ought to meet all newcomers passing through the glass spikes. He stored the thought for a later time.

The Elephant bobs his great head in greeting, “Hello, I’m Tembovu, King of the Edge,” it was so strange to introduce himself as such, “I’ve not seen you around yet, and I’m certain I couldn't miss one as large as myself. You’re new to the Edge?” Though he phrased it as a question, the words were more asking of the large stallion beside him. Indeed, his uniquely midnight coloring, misty mane, and bladed horns were quite a lot to ask after. A lopsided smile hovered at the corners of his thick lips as he awaited his answer.

tembovu

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.

His fellow giant shifts after his genuine greeting, head lowering in deference to his new crown. The Elephant is surprised that this does not feel alien or strange to him— but then, he had lived his previous life in various titles. His life had been dictated by bureaucracy and roles of power. So he simply bobbed his horn slightly in response to the celestial stallion’s half-bow.

His small smile grew to a grin as the midnight stud spoke of Elsa and her spritely companion, Edgar. He recalled the raucous the zephyr had created not long ago, drawing the Elephant to Elsa’s re-entrance to the Edge— much to the snow mare’s dismay. “Indeed, little Edgar is quite an impish companion,” his low voice rumbles in amusement through his grin.

His head swivels further towards Alune while he introduces himself as a ‘Philosopher of the Moon.’ There is no mistaking the pride in his voice— it is clear the new stallion has come to the appropriate herd if it is the Moon’s path he seeks. The thought brings another naked, Moon-praising mare to mind. He had not seen Nuray since the god battles, and a brief flash of concerned sadness flares through him. She was a herd member he had brought to the fold, and a friend.

Casting these troubled thoughts aside, his dark blue gaze sharpens on the speckled, glowing stallion before. “Philosopher of the Moon?” a low, rhetorical question rolls. He pauses, studying the astral man, “Why is it that you follow the Lady Moon’s path?” His question is simple, voice open and curious. Though it aligned with his previous musings that had plagued him as he had wandered through the trees. How (and why) to align a herd with the Moon? (without following a deviously destructive path).

Thick, black-rimmed ears twitch as he, in turn, receives a question. “Thinking, weighing thoughts and decisions. Though it’s hard to not admire the view,” his gaze and horn sweep along the spectacular cliffs as he noncommittally answers the his question.

tembovu

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.

He answered Alune’s laugh with a small chuckle of his own, “I don’t think she’d even try,” he replies through his low rumbling mirth in regards to taming Edgar’s impish spirit. It was a battle lost before even begun. And how boring the Zephyr would be, if not for his rascally ways.

His chuckle died off as the starry steed answers his question. He speaks of his home, of being the Moon’s Oracle, of being predestined for communing with the Night Woman from the womb. The Elephant’s ears flick forward, interested— for, despite being born to his abnormal height, he was not generally a believer in ‘fates’ or ‘destines.’ So to hear that another was chosen as such perplexed him.

Though it seems, as he had seen repeatedly in the Threshold, that Helovia had stripped him of his birthright. But not of his faith— no, that he appeared to retain wholly. Again, the uncertainty he had felt while mollifying Mauja and his overwhelming grief raised its perplexed head. He was not certain as to where his faith laid. Certainly it was absent in Dorobo, for those gods had died in the face of an empire’s greed.

But here, the gods were very much alive. So Tembovu face not a crisis of faith, but a burgeoning faith altogether. Where would it lead? What did it mean?

In the face of such an impressionable state, unease immediately erupted in his barrel. He was not a sheep, he had corralled and worked with sheep his entire life. He wished to make an informed decision about his faith. He needed to speak with faithful oracles, like Alune, and forsaken kings, like Mauja, and perhaps even the Moon Lady, herself. Perhaps then there would be an answer for the King.

But, now, all he knew was that faith was alive and strong in Helovia. As were the gods. So, despite his personal beliefs, his herd needed religious guidance.

He returned to the man before him, listening to his words despite his mind’s circular thinking. “The very hide I wear is crafted from her touch.” Dark blue eyes glance over it, “Ah, well that explains its magnificence,” he grins and motions his large horn over the spectacular pelt in Alune’s momentary pause between words.

He speaks of the Moon’s balance of power— perhaps the the Dark Lady is more akin to his heart than he thought. He assumed his alignment would be with the Sun… But had he not begot the fall of an Empire and death of its unjust leaders in order to ensure there was a balance of power? Food for thought, indeed. He hums in thought as the indigo man finishes his answer and, in turn, questions him.

His gaze, which had wandered to the ocean, returns to intently study the moon-marked face before meeting the strange, pupil-less eyes. “Crowns are heavy for a reason.” Were they ever, the image of a slain daughter stained with blood flashes in his mind. There was no glory in his crown, which made it all the heavier. Watching the bladed face closely, he began to answer the questions, perhaps audaciously asked, of a King, “My crown, as heavy as you call it, is also fairly new. So, aside from mastering this new duty, I also wonder what will bring the Edge together. To align its members either in ideals or in the path of the Moon, as you follow.” He pauses, watching his fellow giant, “Do you’ve any ideas?”

His question fades as he chooses not to share his own heart’s woes. There were more important matters at hand… At least, less painful ones to speak of.

tembovu

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.

A broad smile replaces the interest and underlying conflict in the King’s face as Alune mentioned wings. “Ah, I can’t disagree with you there, my friend. I, too, would appreciate a pair of wings— though they’d certainly need to be large,” a low chuckle hummed in his throat that the sheer size and strength a pair of wings would have to be in order to life either of the Edge’s giants. “I think they might even make your ‘Time Keeper’ pause,” a grin turned up the corners of his broad muzzle while curiosity flared in his dark blue eyes. “Where is it you come from, Alune?” For, indeed, the stallion spoke of so many things from his home that were quite foreign to the Elephant.

He waited, in quiet patience, as the moon-coated man contemplated an answer to his question. And, deep in his barrel, he greatly appreciated the thought and time put into answered a question asked so abruptly and bluntly.

He listened closely, in silent contemplation, as the finally began to flow from the bladed horn’s lips. He, naturally, provided religion as a glue to a nation. But, to his mild surprise, in the same breath the man acknowledged the validity of those doubters of faith. Heavy brow raises at the priestly stallion as he brings up some of the projects the King had begun a season ago. His great head nods slowly, in agreement. “I’ve started a replacement of spikes for the wall. Though the toll the Moon’s magic took for building such a small amount was…” his eyes grow dark as he recalled the dark depths his crafting magic had drug him to, “…unfortunate. Perhaps a meeting of the pious and the practical would result in a better strategy for herd to unite behind safeguarding our borders.” It was a suggestion, observation, and borderline command all wrapped into his low, rumbling voice. “Or, perhaps, the Goddess, herself, has a suggestion,” a faint amount of humor and irony colored his last sentence.