She left indelible claw-marks on our souls. She waltzed into our lives and changed us forever, and for that, we will never forget her. It was she who taught us to fall, and to get back up again and walk. It was she who taught us to laugh at ourselves, to defend our pride. She taught us how to jump, how to fly, how to run free. She taught us how to speak, write, carve, love... Her memory will survive into eternity through these tomes. I'm sure she would find it amusing, our musings (if you'll pardon the pun), but I... we cannot let her memory fade into the soil, like the bones of a stinking Barynai.
I'll tell you all I know of her. She, herself, will tell you her own tales. I ask you to read into the text, to see her, to remember her. Maybe, if my old claws don't give out on me, I can finish a suitable account of her life. No, not a single scribe could do that... she was larger than life. She was life itself. I can only write in words; she wrote in spirit.
Icescale, if you're watching me now, guide my quill across this old parchment. Please, help me do your memory justice.
We'll always remember you.
~Flarexx Bloodscale, Scribe of Cabilles
A silent soul
The body departs
Sense emotion within the scale
Feel power behind the claw
Watch the eye
See the flicker
Life within, allow it to show
Bring out the best in yourself
~Icescale Shek'Maj, Scribe of Cabilles
Chapter 1
A Set of Claws
A set of claws; That was all she owned in the world. Granted, they were a good set of claws; she shined them daily and kept them trimmed to a razor-sharpness. She had aspirations that involved a good set of claws and a good mind, and the mind was her only other possession. She didn't even own her cloths; they were on loan to her from a kind merchant. She couldn't very well run around naked in the middle of New Sebillis, now could she?
So, with her claws, her mind, and borrowed clothing, she set out for the Monk guild hall and the beginnings of her new life. She wasn't a hatchling anymore; she had passed out of that stage weeks before. Her first shedding had left her with a new set of shining scales, and her facial color was evident now. Her eyes, surrounded by azure scales and accentuated by orange brow ridges, had also changed from baby-red to a virulent green. It was from those paint-chip-like scales around her eyes that she chose her adult name: Icescale. It was simple, and it was in the language of the Smoothskins, but she had chosen it herself, and that made it special. She scoffed, remembering her hatchling name, Little Claw. That name had been the bane of her existence since she hatched. She was ridiculed for it. For that reason, she chose the vocation that would show that her hatchling name was completely wrong. She would be a Monk, and she would learn the art of the Scribe.
Icescale threw her head back as she entered the guild hall, stepping easily by the hatchlings still in baby skin trying to get a place in the guild. She was above her former playmates now; she had adult coloring. She could almost imagine the younger Iksars hero-worshipping her, and she could almost see the hunk Iksar males displaying for her because her face was so beautiful. What she didn't see was Master Gloxx, the Guild Master, meditating silently. She tripped over the Grand Master monk, flipping head-over-tail into a heap, her nose scuffing up the dirt. Master Gloxx stood, outraged, and dragged her up by her loose neck skin.
"What are you doing, hatchling?" He snarled, flecks of spit flying from his jaws onto her face.
"Master Gloxx! I'm sorry! I didn't see you!"
"Obviously," He spat contemptuously. "Stinking unobservant hatchling!" He dropped her roughly and resumed his meditation, ignoring her.
The gibe about her being a hatchling hurt more than the rough landing on the marble, and she stood dejectedly, tail down. "I'm not a hatchling," she muttered under her breath. Gloxx heard her, though.
"The color of one's face does not make one an adult," He said in a now calm voice. "The skill one possesses shows the shedding of Hatchling scales."
"I've got skill," She snapped, harsher than she'd meant to. "I've been training since I could stand on my own two claws."
"Show me, then," He said simply.
She raised her head and claws and took up a fighter's stance, balancing on the balls of her feet. Master Gloxx took a step forward and swung with raking claws, but she ducked her head and leaned left, avoiding the claws by inches. She swung back with a clenched fist, the claws like gauntlet plates. He dodged and came back with a quick Round Kick that caught her in the elbow, and she jumped backwards a bit. While he was recovering from the kick, she jabbed with her right fist, claws extended, and hooked with her left at the side of his head. He dodged the hook but her claws grazed his cheek, but before the blood even had time to well to the surface, he had knocked her flat on her back with a tail strike.
She sat up quickly, panting, shaking out her claws. Gloxx stepped back onto his platform, but handed her a pair of rusted shackles.
"Take these, and make the Court of Pain proud. You drew blood; that is proof enough that you are no hatchling." After saying these few words, Gloxx sat again in meditation. Icescale put the shackles on, her eyes sparkling, her fangs bared in a feral grin.
"Now I'll prove my name," she hissed, clenching her fists. Without a backwards glance, Icescale, the One who had drawn Blood, stalked off for the Field of Bone and true fighting.
