Tried to rework this old thing. Bare with me over the mistakes.
‘Rauos’
My name is Damva.
I once belonged to a great tribe.
I say once, because I’m the only one left.
I now live with another tribe that calls themselves 'Hengoh'.
I joined them when I was only 15 winters old.
I came to them because my own tribe died.
They died, not by disease or accident or even by war with a rival tribe.
They were killed, murdered, by a being I call Rauos.
Rauos is, for he still lives I'm sure, a being of cold rage and unending ill will towards us.
My tribe had a name once.
We were many.
We had a place of our own.
We were the 'Cahva' and we lived by the Great River.
Until the day the ground grew teeth.
The skies were friendly.
Blue, with plenty of white clouds.
The sun shone down on us.
Giving life to the trees and other plants.
But the ground...
There was something wrong with the ground.
It was cold and hard.
It was spring, so it should not have been so.
One of our hunters, who had gone hunting with five others, came back alone.
He spoke of how his hunting partners had been swallowed by a rockslide.
He told us how they had followed odd foot prints that had looked like their own.
The only difference had been that these tracks had had four toes, not five.
They had followed them to a great rock-side that had almost immediately started to rip itself apart and head towards the hunters as if it had a mind of its own.
The only surviving hunter said a voice had followed him as he made his way back to our village.
The words had been incomprehensible. Dark,twisted and spoken in all consuming fury.
The speaker remained to be seen.
Then, ground under our village started to shake.
Rock started to devour the earth.
Sliding over it and creating new ground.
The rock grew teeth and claws.
They shot up beneath our feet.
Tearing into our flesh and drawing out our blood.
The ground started to move violently.
Made our huts collapse and drove away our cattle.
In other places the ground melted and became like quicksand.
Walls of rock rose up from the ground, fell and crushed my people’s bones.
Then the wrathful one showed himself.
He wasn’t like us.
He only had four fingers on each hand.
His ears were long and pointed.
He was tall, very tall, and his clothes, so different from our own, were torn and tattered.
A long scare ran over his forehead.
It’s angry red hue stood out against the wrathful one’s pale skin.
He had wild amber hair and green eyes that shone of fury.
He held in his hand a spire of glowing crystal.
It had many colors. Colors that should shine with warmth.
But it shone with the coldness of ten winters.
It gave him the power, the strength, to destroy us.
Power I’ve never seen before and don't understand.
The blood of many flowed and tainted the ground.
One of the few brave men left ran towards the wrathful one.
Club raised and ready to slay him.
The wrathful one raised his hand and light surrounded him.
Blue and white light.
And cold.
So,so,so cold.
Our brave man didn’t have time to stop before he ran into the light.
As he hit the light he fell backwards and began to scream in pain.
The blue and white light burned his flesh.
Water would not make it stop.
He screamed and screamed until his lungs gave out.
Everywhere there were screams and blood.
Screams and blood of the young and old alike.
The angry one looked at me with enraged eyes.
The ground, rock consuming earth, began to break beneath my feet.
I ran.
I ran over the rocks the bored themselves into my feet
I heard the village being ripped apart behind my back.
I heard the wrathful one scream in rage...and frustration.
I heard my people die.
I can still hear them to this day.
Screams and cries echo through my mind.
Again and again and again.
I see them whenever I close my eyes.
The fear, the horror and the blood.
Many winters have passed since then.
So many winters that I’ve become the oldest in the Hengoh tribe.
I joined them so long ago...and in my last days I’ve left them... so I could return to the ruins of my village.
It’s nearly sunset.
The sun setting over the river will be the last thing I see.
I sit where our leader’s hut once stood.
There’s nothing here but jagged rocks and broken bones.
And an air of terror.
So much time has passed and this place is still marked by the powers the wrathful one unleashed.
My own bones are almost dust and my time is coming to an end.
And the last memory that runs through my mind is the end of my people.
Many years ago, I named the wrathful one Rauos.
In all the years since that day, giving him that name has been the only thing that has given me any measure of sense.
Of control.
Control over something I cannot begin to understand.
Even the memory of the wrathful one, Rauos, can destroy the person who has it.
IF it remains nameless.
What made a being so powerful so hateful?
So angry he would slaughter any and all of us?
What did we do?
Did one of us give him that scar?
Answer me Rauos!
I’ve gone over this many times.
And demanded an answer each time.
I’ve never gotten one.
I wonder why my heart doesn’t stop when I actually hear a voice near me.
I can’t understand the words.
But the tone isn’t angry.
I look to the side.
It’s not Rauos. But he looks like him.
This one looks like he’s just wandered down from the mountains and only stands a few steps away from me.
He’s covered in tanned hides and wears a large oddly shaped hat.
From where I sit I can see his face.
So very similar to Rauos. Jagged.
His hair, the little I can see, looks more goldenrod then amber.
His eyes are an icy blue though.
And they merely look at me. There’s no emotion beside an eerie calmness in those eyes.
He carries a spear. The tip of it seems to be made of something I’ve never seen before. It’s too smooth and it shines too much to be rock.
He doesn’t look like he has any intentions of using it.
Now there’s another voice.
A woman with waist long black hair walks up to the other.
She wears only green colored clothes and a string of leather with three colorful stones makes up a simple decoration that lies on her temple.
The instant she sees me, her eyes widen so much I almost think they will fall out of her skull.
The woman’s face brakes into a smile and she heads past her companion and continues towards me.
Besides the look of rage Rauos sent me many years ago, that smile is the most terrifying thing I’ve seen.
As she comes near, she raises her hands.
And they start to glow.
She comes close enough to me that I feel the warmth that emanate from the glow.
I hear the male snarl ‘khistal!’ and then see him grab the woman’s wrist and drag her away from me.
‘Arehe!’ The woman – Khistal?- shrieks and lashes out at the man, elbowing him in the neck, her wide eyes never leaving my unmoving form.
The other, Arehe, yelps at the attack, but drags the woman even further away.
He stops some ten steps away and lets the woman go and seems to order her to stay there.
The woman’s eyes are still locked on me and her smile is as scary as ever.
For whatever reason... she obeys the man who’s now moving back to me.
He’s almost beside me now, and there is still no hostility in his eyes.
He looks at me and the surrounding area.
Without as much as a word, he bends down and touched the ground with a gloved hand.
The ground starts to move around me.
It’s a waste of time to be scared. I’ve always thought it could, maybe should, end like this.
That I could meet my end just like the rest of my people.
To my surprise, I don’t get impaled by the rock beneath me.
Three walls of rock rise around me and form a little rock hut.
I hear Arehe move away from me.
He left me with only one direction to look at.
The sun disappears beneath the river and mountains.
And my world grows dark.
