Hope in deceit mocks the mockingjay
But carefully trodded so in beauty’s gay
Making sure that everything is okay
Head flight, for Kinguin is not a place to stay
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A heavy wind almost blew all of Peacock’s feathers when he passed by Fogsight fort. The criminals and slaves below are lined up for a bloody pool. More like a feeding ground for creatures and guards do not even seem to care. Verdant wings flaps for the farthest objective. A barbarian camp that stands just next to the foggy marsh. He drops the armor that was tearing down his beak first before scratching off the letter. They drop on the muddy soil and he dares not to land when his experience with birds and barbarians is getting shot by an arrow right before the animal knew it.
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One of the children who are playing around the forge hears the fallen thud and checks to see what is glimmering on the mud. She pokes at it, licks at it, before calling for help. Her older barbarians immediately rally out with their wooden spears and sword, barely any clothing other than fur and leaves. They seem to be asking each other what it is before one of them points at the amaranth emblem with a stick. That woman is convincing the burly, dumb looking men before yelling out “Anip!”. That which the Peacock hears clearly and got spooked to hide behind the fort stones.
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An elderly lady comes out with a staff covered with amaranth vines. The woman gestures that the emblem on the armor and the flowers on her staff are the same then all of a sudden, the old woman raises both her hands. She seems to chant out something to the heavens before kneeling before it. The woman follows, then the children before finally the dumb confused men. They all bow before the armor and maybe, recognize it.
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Carefully, Peacock flies in circles overhead. Before assuring himself that it is safe to land, and when he does so, his talons click and their heads raise as if asked. Seemingly a dangerous situation like a delicious fowl at the center of hungry barbarians, Peacock opens his verdany train. An array of green shades that fades to white to the very tip of it. And the barbarians jump back, spooked, but one cries out with an axe in his hand. Peacock turns and his train blocks the strike! Like how a shield deflects the weapon. Wild how his feathers can do it but he can.
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“U-Unyan!” The elder recognizes, “Myre! Þæt is ærendraca!”
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Uhm…a language that he does not recognize. Peacock does not know why but he acts and stands proud, even lifting one talon off and gracefully posing like a flamingo. His tail all spread out as fog floods the muddy ground. Then the barbarians once again bow before him. But, then, Peacock looks around and see that no one has the letter. A rodent is picking on it and he quickly flies and scaring it off. He takes the rolled piece of paper and drops it on the elder’s nest hair. A child jumps and takes it before the elder yanks it away from her.
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The old lady simply nods and says clutching her amaranth staff, “We sculon þær beon, for ure eorlas and ure æðelingcna”
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Her words seem like a cue for him to go to the next camp as he quickly takes the armor and letter from the old lady. Verdant feathers flap open, bending the air around him for a trail of green light gives him a boost of speed that makes the bird look like a thundering jet.
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“Unyan! Unyan!” The elder yells from below but fading.
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Do peacocks even fly? Swimmingly like a whale in the sky. Until he sees another bird but with a strange cyan glow to its feathers. Peacock flies beside it, recognizing it as a Mockingjay and asking if it can speak because it looks special. It shakes its head, and after a few questions, Peacock realizes that it can only understand him. He asks where it is headed and the mockingjay eagerly points its beak towards northwest. Then Peacock says his farewell as he nears another native barbarian camp. But the mockingjay follows him. Joining his descent, delivering the invitation, and surprising their audience with beautifully shaded feathers.
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Flying off to the next camp, onto the next, then the next, and a sunrise and ten camps later–near the plains of Orlorn an argument can be heard even when flying overhead.
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"Stop it you bulls!" the elder lady exclaims, her voice filled with exasperation. She stands alongside the other women, holding flowers identical to those from every other camp they've visited. "This is a sign! The letter might be from the lord magister and he asks us to join them for the coming Mægfæge! Doesn't that sound what we all wanted since the beginning?"
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The old lady intrudes, waving her staff and causing a rune to appear on the ground where the armor sits. The magic outlines the emblem with a glowing aura. "It is what the prophecy tells," she declares solemnly. "I see that it has been to the rest of our brethren, delivered by the verdant messenger---Peacock of Unyan."
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A young man interjects, his tone skeptical, "And it is asking us to join in a festival that we don't even know would happen? It might be a trap from the other camps!"
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The young lady argues back, her voice rising with conviction, "I doubt! Didn't you hear Baba Joll? It is delivered by the verdant messenger!"
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The young man retorts, crossing his arms defiantly, "You’re just saying that because you want to become the next elder.”
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“I’m not—”
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“Don’t lie! The Gods know everything,”
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“I tell you that I’m not! Stop putting this camp in danger with your ignorance! We don’t even know what is happening in the capital!”
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“Maybe you should just leave and go there! I don’t care if you leave just like the others. If you hate it here then leave!”
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“Stop that…” Tears welling her cheeks, “you don’t even know about the prophecy. You don’t care about elder nor care about anyone here! You’re just nothing! You’re just like the true brutes!”
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The young man catches himself in a gasp, air tight around his pipe that it burns his cheeks red, “…Then point”
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“Point what!?”
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“Point at where that messenger is then."
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"That…" the young lady starts, her words trailing off uncertainly.
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At that moment, Peacock flies in, like a rain blessing from the sky. Striking a glorious flamingo pose in the center of everyone and saving the young lady and this young man from further embarrassment.
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A child is the first to exclaim, pointing excitedly, "It's the verdant messenger!"
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Peacock's majestic presence compels everyone to kneel, with the men being the last to reluctantly bend their knees.
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The old lady, Baba Joll, shakes as she approaches Mr. Peacock, her voice trembling with emotion, "Oh, I never knew I would live to see this day…forgive me for my knees oh verdant messenger…my, my legs are weak right now and…"
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The young women come to her aid, helping her stand as they gently say, "Baba Joll."
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Baba Joll continues, her words filled with awe and reverence, "My apologies, for my actions, verdant messenger. It just has been, 200 generations more than what the prophecy entailed. I had already thought of giving up but you came! You came now with the mark of our lord magister as well! Ah…how wonderful this day has come–"
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Suddenly, a man's scream pierces the air from their fort's tower, "Baryons!" Arrows rain down from the sky as a battle cry erupts beyond the gate, which soon explodes. A mob of green ogres and goblins flood inside, their presence threatening and ominous.
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The young woman shouts urgently, her voice filled with concern, "Verdant messenger, please flee!"
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But Mr. Peacock, having gained so much fame from this errand, refuses to flee so easily. He stands his ground, ready to face the impending danger.
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“COOOOCKKK!” Mr. Peacock unfurls his train of feathers and protects the women, children and the elderly. The arrows flung at its feathers deflected off but some exploded. Spooking Peacock but his feathers are invincible! The men–having confidence from the bird, charges at their invaders, fighting back with all they have.
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Blades meet blades, arrows meet shields and nature magic burns the air. The fighting only escalates further with a black robed individual comes in with a carriage driven by two giant ogres. They throw skulls inside and the ground bends and forms into a creature. “A Heshape!” the barbarian recognizes “creatures of Yralla!”
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There is no point of knowing what they are when the native barbarians are losing! There is no magic, or blade that can defeat this foe. Seeing how her children are slashed off one by one by these creatures, the old lady steps away from Peacock’s shadow, yelling out that he won’t sit back and wait to be killed. “I’m already an old hag so I will make sure to use every bit of old I have for my family!”
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Vines sprout out from where her staff struck the ground and ensnares the Heshapes. They struggle but not for long as the black robe cuts the old lady’s staff with a blast of wind. She stumbles forwards, and her family screams for her to get back but she does not. With eyes and expression eager to protect, she stood up with her rotten legs and prayed for her wish that the Gods protect her children and have them see the greatest noble of all land. Uttering silent words, chanting for longer than seconds. The black robe knows it is dangerous to stay and tries to flee but the injured men stand in their way, stopping them.
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And so, her silent words end with a dance as she picks up her staff, breaks it, and her entire body fissures with white as if she is made of glass. “Creatures of Yralla!” She calls their attention and the monsters simultaneously run up to her with their bladed arms. “Begone from this land and never return!” The final fissures spread across her wrinkled face and a blast of light and energy flashes, leaving nothing from where the monsters and the elder stood.
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Only the robe individual remains, and the anger by the native barbarians fuel their rage. They mercilessly charge at the individual and stab them with whatever weapon or rock they find, leaving a bloody, torn carcass. They then turn to Peacock–who has already fled from the scene with the armor, hoping that they might not chase and make him their lunch. “Whew” flying higher and flapping faster before surprising himself with the mockingjaay still around. He asks why it is still following him when it has to go to the northwest. Which the mockingjay gestures that it has some time to spare. Miming that they enjoy
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Peacock’s performance with the native barbarians and diligence. Both heads for the Eastern lands of Kinguin, once again to invite all the native barbarian camps and forts. Before the mockingjay finally rests on one camp that it recognizes the elder and the children recognizing it. The children tell their forgetful elders and adults about the mockingjay story they heard from the other camps with the bird being a symbol of unity and bridge among all native barbarians. And the mockingjay now fondly rub themselves on the elder’s rock carved staff. And it waves its feathers goodbye together with the native barbarians towards the flapping Peacock.
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