Return of The Bo [NoM/Plot]

In a room that wasn't real, in a time that didn't exist, a man talked to his' inner-selves. In the land of dream, the subconscious of Connie, he giggled amongst a symphony of tormented, enraged souls. When their rukh had first been feasted upon, their shouts had been audible, now but a mere whisper of their past owners. All he desired was balance, but a thought but as the identities inside him lost direction, the root of their passions inspired him.

The cry for peace, the rally for a strong king, the screams for a tyrant to reign things in, and the whisper of total annihilation. Their corrupting thoughts destroyed a benign mind, but together it painted a new picture. It was all needed in some shape and form.

"Kyeheheheehehue!" would cackle in the back of his mind. To the whispers, he would speak, teasing his own psyche. "Oh how I love a good match of the kings game, and it seems there are more kings on this board than black and white. That's more than fine, for soon you'll all get your wish, a world encased in a bichromatic kaleidoscope prison! The holes and beginning to crack, and while people fight to repair or destroy that shall be my stitching! "

Amongst rampant inaudible threats, he would laugh to himself. The one time in which playing both sides wasn't one's undoing, but the key to everything. It was hard for one person to control the world, the modern age was that of the collective. Chaos and control were the prizes, and even in failure, he could achieve that.

The contractor only needed a few more dark spots, before then even he would have a few calls to answer. It wasn't long till someone would try to bring a medium to the world, he would himself but that was too predictable. What fun would it be if the people could guess what he was thinking?

A snicker would once again follow in his thoughts before he would need to exit "Have fun with your bickering, I have a young woman to visit."

With his last words, he would open his eyes, as he also arrived in the private room of a growing plains community. It was the growing great city of the Bo. Flat, rocky plateaus kept feed through redirected water in order to keep the land fertile. As the city grew walls began to erect, not of wood and straw but of stone, claw, and cedar. Through their mass vassalisation of clans, they had claimed resources through trade and appeasement.

The night would fall, so sweetly on the city as many would work into the night as large braziers would ignite, leading up the mighty staircase to the Bo Estate, forming now into a palace by the hands of hundreds of workers. Statues of horse, ox, and eagle would line each set of the staircase, which were as wide as the sky and just as blue. They wanted to call it the palace of sky and flowers. As gardeners and painters would rest as the light was too low, the masons and carpenters would go into overtime. Hammers like hooves in a great herd they would hit in unison.

While work went on, in that very back room, where the candles of the night would just begin to light the weakened Tenza would lay. With labored breath and a strained body, she continued to train. Her left leg was gone, her lungs had collapsed and her arms both seem to have taken severe nerve damage. It didn't help she had severe lacerations and burns tattooing her skin. It was nothing to the pain of her youth, she respected the fight she didn't want revenge. Her drive was her goal, for a land of strength, a power given to the weak.

While she labored to build up strength, standing on a spear and training more on a horse she would hear the arrival of a guest. One who had promised a cure to her ailments.  He was coming to make her a queen, or rather for the contractor, she was the second dark herald.

To Be Continued... IN The Bo's Great Herd Special job coming soon