♢ Henut: Isis' Embrace ♢

[emptyanima]

[[Click image for portrait.]]

Name: Henut
(Meaning: Noble person)
Age: 28 Yrs.
Race: Human
Widowed Mother, Acolyte of the Priesthood of Isis
Origin: Muhar, Har'Akir (Ravenloft Native)

"My inherent belief is that motherhood is pious, and I am humbled by it."
~ Madhur Bhandarkar

Silent Sentinel (Henut's Theme) ~ Adrian von Ziegler

~ ~ ~ ~

Artwork

Spoiler: Henut, Utet, and their daughter Rashida. • show

Spoiler: Henut mourns the loss of Utet, as well as her parents. • show

Spoiler: Henut in her travelling gear. • show

[emptyanima]

~ Prologue ~

United under Isis, Henut and her husband smiled.
It had not been a long courtship, but the union was blessed by both her own and her husband's families.
He, Utet, a merchant of good repute, who treated his slaves well and was fair in all his dealings.
She, uncertain of her own path, but determined to be a good wife.

Five years was their marriage.

She was soon filled with his child, and at the end of their first year together, their daughter, Rashida, was born.
There was happiness and contentment on the sands of Har'Akir, for although it was a place that had fallen far, joy could still be found.
But it was not a joy that could last forever.

As Henut watched over Rashida, their two families, led by Utet, searched the sands, having heard that a new oasis had been found.
They never made it to that place - to them, it may as well have been a mirage.
They were attacked by a pack of werejackals, torn asunder and cast into a sandstorm.

Henut rent her clothes, shaved her head, and wore sackcloth.
Her husband's slaves now served others.

But she knew she could not continue like this forever.

Henut had long been blessed with the gift of magic, Isis' embrace, that did not require study, unlike the followers of Thoth.
And so it was that she cast off the sackcloth of mourning, and donned the garb of Isis' acolytes.
But there was one thing more she felt she had to do.

She walked across the sandy sea, seeking the bodies and effects of her husband, her family.
The winds picked up, and she could not see.
She stumbled through the sandstorm, into another embrace.
A cold embrace, from ethereal arms.

When the storm subsided, she was no longer in Har'Akir. Henut had been dragged to Barovia.

Dragging herself to her feet, the Akiri woman trembled in the cold, a promise leaving her shaking lips.

"Rashida, I shall find you."

[emptyanima]

~ When Prayer is Answered ~

As she felt the sand between her toes, she wept.

How many months had she wandered, lost in a place of cold days and even-colder nights, and visions of terror that she'd not soon forget? The gift of her goddess had been feared and scorned.

It had been many months since she had seen Oristesen, as well, the priest of Osiris she had met not long after her arrival in the bitter land of Barovia. He had been a great help to her, an islet of familiarity in a sea of strangers. But he was long gone, separated by the winter snows.

She had struggled through that sea for so long, until she reached the featureless expanse of unknown territory. From there, she pressed further, offering fervent, broken prayers to the Great Mother.

Finally, after all this time, she felt the land of her birth embrace her. But she was not yet home. Shaking and weary, she stumbled into the village of Muhar, the flies immediately assaulting her unkohled eyes (long had she gone without that precious paint and its protection). She staggered as far as she could, before she sank upon the steps of the temple, her heart heavy. If Rashida was not within, where would she be? Did she yet live? Such was a thought much too soul-wrenching to consider for even a moment. She took a breath, praying anew.

"Isis, you searched long and hard for the pieces of your brother-husband, and put him together with love and mystic power. I bring love to this search for my offspring, my precious chick. I pray that you grant your mystic power to bring these pieces together."

Tears and flies filled her eyes as she pressed on, strengthened by prayer. Her weary gaze raked across the stone walls and the atrium within. A loud gasp escaped her lips. She hurried forward, before finally her bruised and aching legs gave way.

"Rashida!"

The little girl, the heart of Henut's heart, looked up into her mother's face. Her cheeks were pleasingly, healthily round, and her eyes brightened at the sight. Henut pulled her into her trembling arms and wept anew.

She prayed until Ra rose over Har'Akir once more. She would show the Great Mother that she was grateful. She would redouble her efforts. She would seek to do good in the goddess Isis' embrace.

[emptyanima]

~ Footprints in Dust ~

How refreshing it had been, to speak of higher things to a willing outsider!

His approach was different; he seemed truly keen to learn more of Muhar and the Amber Wastes, rather than the mere material riches lost to time in dusty ruins. With his offer, Henut found a path through which to spread the message of her patron, and saw a way through which to dispel ignorance. Her people were stuck, and she knew it. They sought ways to appease the Great Ennead for the sins of those who came before, made slaves of those who brought them shame and were wary of those who came from outside. They were a shadow of their former glory, and they knew it. They were mere fossiles, trapped in the golden sands like insects in amber and surrounded by ruin.

'Perhaps the 'Amber Wastes' is a more fitting name than we realised for this hot, dry expanse.' Henut mused.

She had been nothing but a static inclusion within the amber for far too long. Now was the time for renewal.

Henut lifted her palms to the sky, sandalwood incense swirling before her dusky features.



"Great Isis, guide me through this new challenge, as a mother guides her child. Chide me when I have done wrong and reveal the wisdom of countless ages. So let it be."

With new vigor in her steps, scrolls of papyrus were spread about, covered in Akiri pictograms on one side and the Common translation on the other.

She prayed that her people would be a relic no longer.