"Honor the Dragons, for it is through their work that you can serve the Empress."

The passing words of a minister, a lay priest of the Creed.  It was a cold day, my pale skin rising in small goosebumps from the thin, and, to be honest, barely concealed figure.  I was cold, rags did little to keep me warm, while the priest sipped his tanna tea between sermons.  He was warm, he took his time.

"Be glad for the chance to serve in this life, for if you should serve well, you shall be forgiven of your innumerable sins.  Work hard, servants, and honor thy Masters!  Do thy work without fussing or complaining!"

I rolled my eyes and looked to my sister, her large, black ringed eyes watching me with a hint of mischief to them.  She rubbed at her chained wrist, bound to mine as I was bound to the large barbarian to my side.  He did not speak any tongue I knew, and there was a certain gruffness to him that was barbaric, but mhe was no enemy of mine, or of any of the Djala bound as he was.  I gave him a smile, and he nodded once, his shaggy, unshaven breard hanging to his chest.  He had been here a very long time.

"Now then, bow your head in prayer, then set to your work.  Honored Dragonbloods, please, take the slaves to their work places, and let them purify their sins through labor to the Empire."

I grunted and sighed, slowly standing with the rest of the coffle.  Work.  I hated work.

"Halt."  Outside of the work houses, the lead Dragonblood, of the Caste of the Earth, halted my coffle and gestured us to be unchained, that we could work without troubling our neighbors.  He gave me an appraising look that made my skin crawl, before he slapped me on the flanks and pushed me through the door.  My backside hurt as I trundled into the faintly lit room, to the back chambers to cook and work with the vegetables brought in.  I was glad to not work the fields, but the scent of food I would be damned to eat made my mouth water.  I smiled to my Sister, as she was lead to a farther chamber, and glanced up at the big Brute.  He shrugged at me and went to tenderize the meats for the feasts that were held, on this day of honoring the Ascension of the Empress.

Honoring my ass, just an excuse to get drunk again.  I held my tongue, my fingers dancing quick to pick out the better of the fruits for consumption.  I let the time pass, picking, picking, picking, before being sent to prepare rice for boiling, noodles for cooking, this for this, that for that.  I prepared, with the rest of the slaves, and let my anger go into the food I worked with.
It was many hours later when I, with the rest, were chained together to return to the barracks, and I walked with what strength I had left, tired from standing, and hungry, though not looking forward to the gruel that awaited us. I sat at my bunk and ate, rubbing the bruises on my wrists and glad for the thin warmth provided by discarded blankets, and waited in the dark, for my sister to return. She always stayed later, though no work I envied.

She returned later, a secondary coffle of the pretty girls and boys who were chosen for other duties. She did her best to make no sound, but I could hear her whimpering, holding herself. They were not gentle with her. They never were. My heart ached for her, so powerfully it ached, and I reached to touch her shoulder to let her know I was still here, that I still cared and loved her. She accepted the touch and I held her close, to let her sleep, pained and bruised and battered.

My anger was deep there, as I laid her head on a pillow. Deep, and gnawing at my heart, like a beast wanting to be set free. I sat in my bed for many hours, before sleep pulled me under. I did not sleep enough, but few could tell with the dark eyes of a Djala. Few could tell I was still seething as I worked the next day, back at the food stuff, my ass still aching from the slap, my fingers working into the dough, the grapes, the knife biting into wood as I slammed it through the leafy greens.

As I lay awake and held her again as she shuddered, barely able to sleep for the pain.

"I don't like it when you do that."  I said, the guard gazing down at me again, his eyes surprised, for a brief moment, where he was going to smack me like he had done for almost the full year of my enslavement.  My voice was steel, my teeth grit, and the burning anger hard in my gut.  I gazed up at him, two heads taller than I, and he sneered down at me.

"Got some balls on you, Djala."  He said, voice acid.  And then he struck me in the belly with his foot, and slammed his fist into the side of my face, sending me tumbling down into the rain and snow and mud.  I grunted, retching from the force that had gone through my body.  The stones had cracked from how hard I'd been hit.  I turned my head and looked up at him, before he laughed, and kicked me again.

"Know your place, slave."

It was the giant who helped me to my feet and carried me to my work.

Work was painful, with only one eye open, and with my mouth swollen, my knee aching.  Work was hard, so very hard, and I stretched my aching arms out to stir the noodle, the heat of the fire unnoticed to the ice that had replaced my blood.  I didn't notice the hot water splashing me any more, I didn't care that the wood cracked as I hit the chopping block with my flat blade again and again.

I did notice when I grabbed the knife and threw it, and it sank six inches into the stone wall.  The barbarian stared at me, his eyes unreadable, before reaching over to touch my shoulder to comfort me.  I was calmer for it, but I wanted to do more, to end this.  My head hurt, my body ached, and my chains felt heavy.

"I'm tired."  I said to him.  I looked up at this giant, two heads taller than the bastard who had struck me, he who had to duck and stoop to work in the kitchen.  Even here, he remained large, great arms hauling the pots and logs and tables where they needed.  "I'm tired of being beaten, of seeing my sister hurt, I'm tired of these chains, and I'm tired, so bloody tired, of those bastards mistreating people!"

"I too am tired."  He was not proficient, but it was there, the meaning of his words.  I gazed up at him with a shiver of anger rolling in my gut, wanting to be let free of the cage it was in.  "I tired of cooking.  Pots heavy."

He flexed an arm, the dragon wrapping it seeming to writhe over the mountains that were his muscles.  I nodded to him, then, and clasped forearms, my hand positively elfin against his greater paw.  "They no treat people good."

"No.  They no treat people good."  I said.  I looked to him then, and knew I was going to die today.  But, I felt freedom, as I took ahold of my anger and pointed towards the lock.  He gave a grunt and grabbed the great mallet he used to tenderize the sides of cattle, and he swung it at the lock.  It shattered.

"Come, little panda brother, we show strength."  I grabbed the mop and snapped off the head and followed at his side.  He let loose a roar of the north that shook the other slaves, and terrified the keeper outside the door.

The keeper did not have a chance, as I broke his knee with the make-do staff, and shattered his clavicle with a downward sweep.  He yelled his warning and gurgled into moans of pain.  Rebellion was in the air, and some of the slaves caught it.  They would go with us, for they were tired too.

Of course, it was sixteen slaves against twenty two guards, and four dragon blooded, and they were hardly any push-overs.  I gazed up at the barbarian, who charged into a pair of guards caught off guard, and crashed their heads together like symbols - the ringing made even my head ache in sympathy.  I swung my stave and caught a spear thrust and shoved it down, my left leg snapping out to catch the man in the groin.  He doubled over, holding himself, before I snapped my foot up against the bridge of his nose, and sent him spinning.

Three down, too many to go.

"Restilio!"  The shout, the sweet voice of my sister.  She was at the side of one of the bastard dragonbloods, his hand holding his knife with a look of dumb surprise.  She struggled against his grip and bit him as he reached for her - and I felt pride, which turned to horror as she was backhanded, and thrown into a wall with a pained crunch.  Her body was limp, and my hands trembled.

My vision narrowed and wavered with a whisper in a tongue I knew not - asking me a question - a question I was unsure of.  The world had stopped movement - a slave lay broken with a spear through her chest - the barbarian, my big brother, held aloft two guards by their hair and was swinging them like flails against the others.

Three of the blooded were rushing to me, and he who hurt my sister, he who had harmed her was raising himself up, his hand drawing the great jade blade from its scabbard.

The voice asked again.

"Yes."

The world exploded into light.

"Anathema..." A word whispered in horror, and in wonder. My body was not upon the ground as I felt the fire race through me, an agony of pain washing through my body, and then a euphoria, replaced with a most intense, interesting, and beautiful feeling.

A wash of a lifetime ago spilled through my head, and I found myself in the memories of so many centuries ago. I was bathed in the first rays of sun on the longest day of the year, I was cast in the golden rays of The Unconquered Sun, and I knew his name, for He smiled upon me. I was alive, like I had never been before - and I felt the world call to me, needing me, to fix this world to what it should be.

"Anathema." The bastard who harmed my sweet sister, my Tackchi, would know justice. My feet touched the ground and I watched him rush me, as did his four companions. Their weapons were drawn, and their blades hummed in fear, for their blades knew who, what, they faced, even if I only had a grasp of it.

The first blade swung low, and slashed at my chest - the tip scratching across the surface as I twisted away, and brought my elbow down. The blade screamed as I smashed it away from me, and caught the second thrust between forearm and bicep. The third was swept away with a twist of my head, and I spun, wrenching a blade free from the dragonblood. My leg swept out, and caught him in the chest, sending him spiraling, twisting in shock, surprise, and pain as he crashed through the table he had risen from, thirty feet away. I had not thought about the motion I flowed with, as it did not require thought - these were the instincts awoken in me.

I spun again, my fist slapping into the chest of the fire caste, who staggered, and felt blood trickle his mouth.  My palm caught him aside the face and sent him down into the wooden floor with a sickening crack.  He groaned most painfully, as I faced the third, who stepped back.

His head fell forward as my Big Brother brought both hands down in a thunder-blow, sending him into the ground up to his knees.  At his brow was a great circle, flared and open with the glory of the Dawn.  He gazed at me with a large smile.

I faced the fourth, the bastard who struck me every morning, who had harmed my sister at night.  He gazed at me in mortal terror, as I approached him, as I closed the distance.   Justice demanded penance, and he would pay.

"See to my sister, and the others.  This is between he and I alone, Big Brother."





"Your crimes are written in your eyes, Dragonblood."  I found my voice to be... compassionate.  I had lost my anger in my own pain, I had no more hate, though I must admit, I was going to enjoy bringing justice.  "How many girls have you killed in your pleasures?  How many have been bruised and pained and forced to serve you?  How many have you robbed and stolen from, in your belief that it is your right, that they are less than worthy of respect?  How many girls, and boys, have you harmed?"

I walked up until he was not more than five feet from me, his blade limp in his hand.  His mouth gaped open, as I looked up, unafraid of him.  I had never been afraid, I realized, only hesitant.  I knew, with the certainty of knowing how to breath or swallow, that he was a very, very wicked soul.

"How many lives, ruined?  Killed for looking crossways at you?  Is life so cheap to you, Danclii? How could you have become this?  This failure, this terrible man-boy who cannot even face his fears?"

That roused him, as I hoped it would.  He swung the great blade at my front and I stepped to the side, feeling it shave the air in-front of my cheek.  He snarled incoherently as he reversed his grip, bringing it side ways to hew me in half.  I bent backwards, feeling it cross its shadow over my belly, and flipped backwards, to my feet.  He struck a third time, and the wood between my feet cracked.

"You are guilty.  Your sins slow you, weigh you down, Blood."

He drew his blade up again and lunged, but this time I was prepared, and parried it as easily as one would parry a child with a stick.  I swept the blade up and struck his belly, cracking the woven armor he wore.  I struck again, sending him back, as he lowered the blade to sweep at my hand again.  I stepped back.

"You called me slave.  My name is Restilio, and I am... I am chosen of the Unconquered Sun, and I am his Lawbringer.  You are guilty."

He lunged forward, and this I caught with my fist, and returned the force as the blade buried between my knuckles.  The flow reversed as he was blown back and through the room, and through the great glass windows between the outside rain, and inside luxury.

I walked to the window and stepped through, as he gazed up at me, on his knees.

"Spare me!  Have mercy!"  He begged.  He was simpering, trembling, pleading with his fear and pain, for he had never before been outmatched in a fight, not when it mattered.  "Please, spare me!"

I felt pity again, and closed my eyes.  The Unconquered Sun demanded justice, but even He gave His light upon the just and unjust, and was always one to forgive, if one but asked.  I clenched my teeth, and felt the anger flow out of me.
I turned his blade and held it out to him. He took it, and let it touch the ground at my feet. IT was beautiful, worth a thousand slaves in value, and my knuckles ached where it had struck. A fine blade.
"Go. Tell your Masters their reign is through. Tell them that no more slaves will be taken, and that the Djala people will be avenged. Go, dog, and tell them they will be vanquished, as the shadow is vanquished by the glory of the midday sun. Go!"

I turned and walked away from him, leaving him to his misery, and raised my arms open, to feel the heat of the sun breaking through the clouds. A ray fell upon the ground before me, an acknowledgement of my oath to the Unconquered Sun, and I breathed in deep the warm, fresh air. It was pleasing. I looked to my rags, and sighed softly - I needed something better than this.

"Thank you. Anathema."

His boots splashed in the mud and snow, his blade heavy as he lunged for me, impossibly fast. I turned, I would be too slow, with the blade aimed towards my ribs. I spun slowly, gazing, watching, staring in horror at him...

...before he fell, skidding across the mud and slush, and lay behind me. A blade stuck out of his throat, and the wound spat red in wet gouts. I gazed down at him, then slowly up towards the hand that threw the blade - white and spotted black, trembling with the surity of the throw. Behind her, a surprised Big Brother stood, looking to her. Her bruises were large and painful, but she had a fire in her.

"Brother?" She asked, as her hand fell. "Can we go home now?"

I looked to the sky, as the clouds moved in, and the streets filled with shouts of horror and fear. I looked at her with a smile, and shook my head slowly.

"No. We have work to do, to make this city right. But, it might be best if we lay low for a while, and escaped the city."

Her face fell, before she gave a slow, but determined, nod. She understood, she knew it had to be done. She knew, as surely as a woman knows the secrets of feminity.

"Okay, brother."

---

And that's how /I/ play Exalted.  Picture is a Djala, according to the books.