material~ pics and fics ~ Evil, an introductory minific (though really, the Prologue does a much better job at introducing him
In a nutshell
My name is Yan. I was the first to find an yrae stone, and through it, I became Raykin's first king. I turned our people from wandering desert folk with no purpose in life but to go on living, into a kingdom of settled people who were allowed to gain some enjoyment from life. Twenty-five years into my reign, I was killed by my advisor. Four millennia later, I'm still standing.
On death
Death is not a fate I wish on anyone. No language in Tsyllaes has words to describe the shattering agony of life being pulled out with rusted fish hooks. It is a process slow as midnight molassas, but too quick to let out the only blood-curdling, inhuman screech that can possibly begin to describe it. If you've ever seen a thief having his finger sliced off in the marketplace, or even a warrior who has lost his leg in battle, their cries of agony is still only skin deep. I could not wish death on anyone, ever.
Some may be tempted to call my current state living death. Immortality, even. I may still be able to walk and talk as I did in life, but I am not alive. No part of me feels alive. I'm cold and dry, my heart hasn't given a beat since Qewir stopped it four thousand years ago. I always feel short of breath, no matter how many I take. I always hunger and thirst, regardles of how much I eat or drink. Despite all appearances, I am dead.
On flying
Flying is the ultimate freedom. After four millennia, the novelty has still not worn thin. In the air, with nothing within a thousand feet of me, not even the earth, nothing matters. I can even imagine I'm still alive, but most often, it simply doesn't matter.
On family
My family is everything to me. Not only my beautiful wife and three children, who have long since passed, but all the desert people today, who are my descendants. It hurts sometimes that they hate me for what I was in the past, and that they still blame me for how they live in the present. I wish they were strong enough to cast aside the prejudices held against them, and move to the cities I built for them. I tried to move them once, but they weren't strong enough. After so long being hated by the Riverfolk, they've simply learnt to live with it.
On the author
Ask me that again when she's not acting as my scribe.
Anything else?