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Ohera - Ashtel teaches a lesson w/three hoops
Gather round as I speak of an Ohera!
Ashtel stood before the Tower of Icili, her red hair a flame against the pale stone. A hush fell over the gathered crowd as she raised a hand, three iron hoops glinting in her grip. The Hoops of Icili, instruments of power, each said to hold a fragment of the sun's fury. Legend held that only a true warrior, one with a heart of fire and a will of iron, could wield them.
"I am Ashtel," her voice rang out, clear as a bell, "and I come to teach a lesson to those who dwell within these walls."
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. They knew Ashtel's reputation, a warrior poet, her body a canvas for swirling tattoos that told of battles won and legends forged. But the Hoops of Icili? This was a challenge unheard of.
The Tower's gates creaked open, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow....
Ashtel stood before the Tower of Icili, her red hair a flame against the pale stone. A hush fell over the gathered crowd as she raised a hand, three iron hoops glinting in her grip. The Hoops of Icili, instruments of power, each said to hold a fragment of the sun's fury. Legend held that only a true warrior, one with a heart of fire and a will of iron, could wield them.
"I am Ashtel," her voice rang out, clear as a bell, "and I come to teach a lesson to those who dwell within these walls."
A ripple of unease passed through the crowd. They knew Ashtel's reputation, a warrior poet, her body a canvas for swirling tattoos that told of battles won and legends forged. But the Hoops of Icili? This was a challenge unheard of.
The Tower's gates creaked open, revealing a figure cloaked in shadow....
