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Title: Anoush, Child Avatar of Nanqa
Rating: (PG-13)
Content Notes/Warnings:
Warnings:Battle scene
Main Character/s: Anoush, Varteres (Anoush's Father,) and Lord Nanqa, God of Darkness/Honor/Undead.
Plot: Uncontrolled undead, remnant of the Scourge war many years ago, attack a small village in Royale. As the guards are losing, this little girl takes the chance to make the difference.
Location: The Village of Taschair, Imperial Royalian Empire.
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Rating: (PG-13)
Content Notes/Warnings:
20+ years past the events of the novels, the Lord of Darkness has had his soul be born in the body of a girl child, and has grown up with her. He has done so in his wish to understand his peoples, and to live as they have. [Also, the Lord's enemies would never think he would take the form of a child, as such a form is powerless...is it not?]
Warnings:Battle scene
Main Character/s: Anoush, Varteres (Anoush's Father,) and Lord Nanqa, God of Darkness/Honor/Undead.
Plot: Uncontrolled undead, remnant of the Scourge war many years ago, attack a small village in Royale. As the guards are losing, this little girl takes the chance to make the difference.
Location: The Village of Taschair, Imperial Royalian Empire.
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The Master-less undead had attacked the gates of the small town of Taschair. Overwhelmed, many guardsmen had died, and those still standing had suffered tremendous damage from both, teeth, claw, and magic.
Breaking into a run, escaping the confines of her father’s embrace, the little girl moved un-noticed toward the fray. A guardsman’s agonized scream as his arm was torn to shreds had been the last that she could take to hear. Tiny feet made little noise as found herself at the battle’s center. Throwing herself to the ground at the feet of the most powerful of the undead, her voice broke upon the syllables of the incantation.
Barely heard above the den of the clash, blood began to run from the child’s nose as she sank into the mud in her ribbons and dress. It was the rain that had begun to fall that brought the fight to a stuttering stop, slowly petering, a hiss filling the air. Like acid, the divine rainwater hit the flesh of the undead, steam escaping into the skies with their screams of agony. Flesh began to disintegrate from the effects of the spell, trapping the monsters where they stood.
The rain washed the living with healing magics, wrapping about those alive and those dead. That same purple luminescence picked up the dead from the ground, suspending them as it flashed through the layers of dress before settling them back upon their feet. All of those who had died, awoke, their eyes popping open, and lips gasping upon their first, returned breaths.
Around a man’s destroyed arm, the purple light encased the flesh, and filled the terrible wound, reforming bones and muscle, nerve and tissue. It was not pretty, nor was it painless, and the act blacked out the man who had a sheer scream upon his lips.
Nothing was left in this muddy field to mark that the undead had ever been there, and the newly living starred, in such a mixture of awe, and terror at the realization of their second chances. The earth around them seeped of blood, gorging upon this feast that would strengthen it in the years to come. But that purple luminescence had not left, it wafted like fog about this place, a substance known for its Resurrection of the loyal dead.
Yet, lastly laying there at the heart of all of this was its propagator. The father had run after her, but had been pushed back by the power, like a wall of force he could not push through. But here, now, on her front in the blood was the little girl in her pink dress, her hair still done up in it’s matching ribbons. He falls to his knees by her side, gathering her bloodied form into his embrace, crushing Anoush to him as he heard her faltering, but living breaths. No more then seven, her face had been half hidden in the bloodied ground, stigmatized by her Dark God so the battle could be won.
The Avatar of Lord Nanqa, lived another day, but would need many to recover, and shakily, the village Butcher presses a kiss to her bloodied brow. Up now, he makes his way back toward the village, wishing to spirit her away to some semblance of safety. It does not surprise him, however, when, later, the many guardsman come to his home. No, they know now who, and what this seemingly ordinary little girl is, and all he can do is be by his daughter’s side as they kneel before her bed. Their heads touch the floor in reverence, and Nanqa’s name is a litany, her own only following long after. To the people, to this world, his daughter is Nanqa incarnate, and because of this he will always wonder, would anyone ever see her as his little girl?
Anoush, the child who loves to learn, the girl who tells him not to be afraid when she does something reckless. Who also, tells him to always trust in their Lord, and gives him the brightest, and biggest smiles. Oh, this child may indeed hold the soul of a powerful God within her, but she is still her mother’s daughter, and will always be her father’s, everything.
