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Setoc

Page history last edited by Eloth 9 years, 6 months ago

 

Setoc

 

Sister to Abasard who was sixteen, born and bred an indebted in Drene, and whose father had recently begun to work for Letur Annict.  Abasard was killed trying to protect his ten year old sister.

 

Setoc, who had once been named Stayandi, and who in her dreams was witness to strange scenes of familiar faces speaking in strange tongues, of laughter and love and tenderness – an age in the time before her beasthood – stood facing the empty north. (DoD UKT p. 167)

 

A wind was blowing in from the east, scratching loose her long sun-bleached hair until it whispered across her face like withered grass (DoD UK T pb, p 169)

 

Back in the city, that place of reeks and noise, there had been a house steward, a tyrant, who would hunt down slave children who had, in his words, disappointed him.  A night spent in the musty confines of the bronze box would teach them a thing or two, wouldn’t it?

Stayandi had spent one such night, enclosed in cramped darkness, two months or so before the slaves joined the colonists out on the plain.  The solid clunk of the lid had truly seemed, the first time, the end of the world.  Her shrieks had filled the close air of the trunk until something broke in her throat, until every scream was naught but a hiss of air.

Since that time, she had been mute, - ( RG UK TPB,)

 

Night then stole upon her, and not long after, came the four-legged people.  They wore furs smelling of wind and dust, and they gathered close, lying down, sharing the warmth of their thick, soft cloaks.  There were children among them, tiny babes that crawled as did their parents, squirming and snuggling up against her.

And when they fed on milk, so did Stayandi.

 

She was found by a white Face Barghast and rediscovered her memories.

 

Spirit-blessed, they now all said when looking upon her.  The holder of a thousand hearts.

At first, that last title had confused Setoc, but her memories slowly awakened, with each day that she grew older, taller, sharper-eyed.  Yes, she held within herself a thousand hearts, even more.  Wolf gifts.  Milk she had suckled, milk of blood, milk of a thousand slain brothers and sisters.  (DoD)

 

 

Destriant to the Wolves of War

 

"Setoc,"  said Cartographer after Gruntle had finally finished,  "the Mortal Sword names you Destriant of  Fanderay and Togg, the Wolves of Winter. (DoD) 

 

There was no doubt that she was Letherii, but that legacy existed only on the surface – her skin, her features, the traits of whatever parents who had both borne and then lost her.  But that nascent impression of civilization had since faded, eroded away.  She had been given back to the wildness, a virgin sacrifice whose soul had been devoured whole.  She belonged to the wolves, and, perhaps, to the Wolf God and Goddess, the Lord and Lady of the Beast Throne.(DoD)

 

"The wolves are clear enough,"  she replied,  "when speaking of war.  All else confuses them."

 "So you indeed serve the Lady and Lord of the Beast Throne.  As would a priestess."

  She shrugged. (Cafal to Setoc - DoD p. 174)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dramatis Personae 

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