Atashban

{{Character|

fgcolor=#fff|

bgcolor=#000|

| image=|

| name=Atashban

| aliases=None

| gender=Male

| race=Yak Folk

| parents=

| dob= 148 snow seasons ago

| pob=

| occupation=Spirit Guardian

| affiliations=

| spouse=None

| children=None

| siblings=None

| class=Shaman

| alignment=Unknown

}}

Farzan was born a runt. His parents didn’t think he would survive a night, he was so sickly. Then it was a week, then a month.

The elder druids say it was the spirits that kept him. “The spirits of the Earth-Mother have plans for this one,” they said. “When he is weaned, we shall begin his journey.” Farzan’s childhood was anything but normal. Most boys his age were taught the basics of life and then were taught to fight and to hunt. Not Farzan. He had to do all that, and more. The elders of his people saw in him the potential to be a spirit guardian, and a conduit of power and wisdom from the spirits, to his people. So Farzan was trained in the ways of moving between this world and the next, speaking with the spirits so that his people might please them so they would lend them good fortune and power. Farzan’s vision quests were long, sometimes taking days, and he would not always return unscathed. Farzan loved the spirits, but he was as haughty as they were – fights with the spirits were uncommon, but not unheard of.

Given their long age, the training period of young in Yak folk tribes was at least a few decades, Farzan had been through a great deal in the spirit realm. Negotiation (even existing) there was mentally exhausting. The spirits were a kind bunch, often talking and telling Farzan many stories about the spirits and about the history of his people. But, leaving one’s body for this place was temporarily taxing on the mind and soul. No one could exist there for too long, at least not using the methods that Farzan used to get there (I’m assuming drug induced stupors using some sort of peyote like substance). He could only hear a few stories at a time.

Years of practice and study finally led him to his adult life. He would receive his place in the tribe, begin his work, and take his adult name. The ceremony was long, and full of ceremony and tradition. Dances were danced, songs were sung, food was eaten, drink was drunk, weed was smoked. Then came the naming and placing part of the evening -- most of the young men who came forward were made warriors and hunters in the Yak army, or crafters if they had the skills to justify it. Farzan was different; the elder druids saved him for last. When it came to Farzan’s turn in the ceremony, the oldest and wisest of the elder druids stood (something that rarely happened anymore), and spoke (almost as rare).

“Today, we honor a young bull who has taken on a great burden for his people. This young bull has trained in the ways of the spirit world, from which all the forces of the Earth-Mother flow. You all must now know that Atashban has stepped down from the Circle of Guardians. He is now known by his elder name: Rajid. This leaves a void that must be filled; it is the druid circle’s decision Farzan should fill this void on the Circle of Guardians. From this day forward, Farzan no longer exists, and in his place stands Atashban (Guardian of the Fiery Storm). Atashban, go forward with our blessings, and may the spirits show you wisdom for our people.”

The parties continued late into the night. Many were relieved that the new Atashban seemed ready for his new duties. He would make a fine spirit warrior. Atashban wasn’t quite sure. He was good friends with the air spirits, and friendly with the fire spirits, but water and earth spirits had taken their time, and had not yet come to trust him. Perhaps he showed too much favor to the spirits of air and fire? It would be a long road; but he would walk it for his people. The next day would be the first example of many for testing Atashban’s resolve. His first task was to be purified by pain before his mind was ready for his vision quest. “You must go on your vision quest to receive your first callings and tasks from the Earth-Mother,” said Ibrahim, the Guardian of the Earth-Mother. “We take no pleasure in causing you pain, only in the result it will produce.” Vashti, Guardian of the Hurricane Rapids chimed in, “I will heal your wounds, but the pain will remain, and increase until you fall unconscious and you begin your journey. Chew on this for a few moments and then swallow it. Then remove all but your underclothes.”

As soon as Atashban swallowed the herb and undressed, Ibrahim charged at him, saying not to resist, and struck Atashban with the blunt of his axe, connecting with Atashban’s jaw, shattering it. He grunted with the pain, but he did not falter. When Vashti cast healing magic at him, it did not have the usual soothing effect. Atashban’s jaw still screamed, but soon he was distracted by two shattered knees. Atashban fell to the ground and Ibrahim followed through by breaking most of Atashban’s ribs. Thankfully the blows soon stopped. After a few moments Atashban was struck by an odd smell: oil. Ibrahim was covering him in oil, and soon used a fire spell to light him. The pain would have caused him to writhe, but his broken skeleton made that excruciating, if not impossible. To make things worse, Ibrahim called down bolts of lighting to strike him. The healing made his wounds close and recuperated the burns, but did nothing to blunt the pain. Atashban took this pain for hours, before finally, he passed out.

In a time that seemed both eternal and instant, Atashban began to float, and noticed that in some transition, he had transcended his body. The sensation of such a thing felt awkward, but only because he felt nothing at all. He had no form, only consciousness. He could go anywhere he wanted with but a thought. It would seem, however, that the spirits in this ethereal realm had other plans. Space and time seemed to stop, then crumple and vortex around, through him. He found himself hurdled through the land and the days, but also as if the land and the days were speeding behind and in front of him. He did not have the wisdom to truly understand what was happening to him.

When everything slowed, Atashban found himself flying around a desert fortress. Darkness and shadow began to pour out of the land and consumed all in its path – and Atashban was flying toward it, and suddenly, he was not alone. Before him were four figures: a Sphinx, bathed in light, a winged demon, fire raging in its eyes, a flying red robe, etched with grey and black runes; finally, a flying vortex of sand. Atashban and these figures were all converging on this fount of black void, and on impact, Atashban quickly woke up in a cold sweat, back in his body. It had been healed of wounds fully and the pain was now gone. “How long was I gone?” He asked. “A few days actually. One of the longest vision quests any have heard of. We had begun to worry if you would be stuck in the land of ghosts.” Answered Vashti. “I have work to do, I must go to the large human city east of here, in the desert. I’m not sure what I must do, but I know my first steps.” As Atashban rose and as he prepared for his journey, two things rang through the new guardian’s mind and soul: Dhaztanar, and Durgan Zor. Whatever a Durgan Zor was …