:Form:Name:
Indrani
The name's meaning is "Possesses a Drop of Rain" in Hindu. This is a feminine name based off of the Hindu god Indra who is depending on Hindu viewpoint is the leader/ruler of the gods. He controls the rains and lightning as well as weather, signifying grand power. Within this doe lies the power of summoning rain, not at will, but with the ability to communicate with the sky and beckon its tears of joy after witnessing one of her heartfelt dances. Like the saying goes, "He who controls the water has the ability to govern others." Revered as a rain goddess to many of the arid people, made this name to be beyond fitting.
Breedable:
Yes, but RP required. A long one to build up a relationship.
Short Story:
This story after lots of revision is 1,999 words. ^^
Shali wrote:Pitching up a sign embroidered with golden lettering printing, “Shali’s Stupendous Show”. Marveling at his own artisan talents the man in his milk shaded turban and lanky size hidden beneath fairly exquisite clothes that wouldn’t be seen usually on such an unkempt man.
Clearing his throat he let his thick clear voice take a spot in the air. “Welcome and Welcome those of all ages to see something they’d never known before on any stages! A tale not heard by all ages!” A small audience appeared in front of the miniature theater.
Fixing up and standing behind his drama box he gave a confident cough. “Children, adults, and any who drop in, let me tell you the story of our rain goddesses! Now you all know on how everyone is receiving annual rain, but remember before where there wasn’t even enough water for the sand to obtain? Learn the story and with my puppets I will explain our previous history!” he called with his eyes twinkling, pulling some strands the curtains slid open revealing an elaborate room back drop and two male puppets on stage.
“Young Chief Malek, I have news,” cried the bowing doll. Whipping around dangling on the string glared the carved face of arrogance, “What is it that it requires me?” he scoffed.
The whimpering servant doll only replied with a simple, “Its urgent, sir.” Grumbling the one called Malek stormed through the exit with his sniffling servant. With a flick of the button the backdrop switched to a savannah-like edge of the village.
Hovering above a dune in between two large puppets was a female marionette. Her long brown hair and beautiful garments that flowed with her shape seemed to portray her as a belly dancer, though the confidence and regal stance proved otherwise. Gracefully sliding down the grassy hill with the jangling of her metal bracelets and the flapping of her translucent sashes, and landing firmly and proudly in front of the on lookers.
With an abrupt jab to the chest the woman pressed her slender wooden finger to the bark chest of Malek. Her jaw flapping quickly in anger as she barked, “YOUR village has had been prosperous recently, has it not? You gain your rain, you have crops, but yet you refuse to return the ewes you have stolen from us! We parted some of our precious oasis water so you could irrigate your crops! Yet, you refuse to return any of our favors and still stole an additional half our herd and claim some of our land?”
The Malek pushes the female away and her body only moves centimeters back. “Ha! We are only claiming what has been ours, we just now have a goddess supporting us, that is all. And how dare you with that nerve come barging into my village like that. I should have you executed,” he retorted curtly.
The guard puppets took their spot by their client and filled the space between the two nation’s people with mini X crossed spears. Shrugging the girl spins away with her trail of shimmering cloth. . “A goddess is no reason to become a revolting neighbor. Just return our chattel and there will be no further complications.” she quipped with no surprise to the thought of a goddess.
Folding his arms the doll stomped a foot in anger. The stage producing soft thuds to it as well. “Your Desert Rose tribe should be eradicated! Your land is covered in filthy gray sand that doesn’t radiate like our golden grass gleams. Your people come out dirty from work after farming or laboring in your dreary old mines. We who live in on the border of plains to desert should own both sides and not one. And you Illuma who knows better than everyone else that your sand was once grass, but were forsaken and became that arid wasteland,” he accused.
Unimpressed the puppet dubbed Illuma pressed her strong toes to the earth, feeling the damp presence within. They had rain, she thought and it was a large quantity as well. Spreading her feet she allowed them to bounce and move across the plain, leaping in a continuous circle around the haughty chieftain. “If we are so forsaken, why are we prosperous and your tribe wilting like your grass?” she remarked slyly.
The marionette flipped and spin to the enchanting words of Shali, his voice not of his own, but of another. The inflection pressed through with every word and seemed to make the doll alive. His whole troop was alive.
Saying nothing Malek creaked his arms apart and spun trying to encompass the whole land. None of the grass was wilted and produced a healthy golden shine. The people of the tribe had been watching over the hill. Pressing a button the scenery changed once more, the gold plains with several painted people sitting in the tall grass.
Grumbling Illuma slowed her cocky movement and neared Malek once more. “Your Goddess may have given you rain, but their other Sabalian tribes needing such liquid desperately like you once did. If you won’t return our chattel then give it to those who need it. This drought has been going on for too long and you know it,” growling she was soon to continue.
A wooden hand place itself against her mouth. “Never,” it whispered cruelly. The speared guards now had their weapons pointed in the face of the chieftain. Relinquishing his force on her lips, he retreat with the sharpened stones to his tender twig-like neck. Illuma tapped her food with her dying patience and was coming to the decision of the outcome.
“WAIT!” cried the meek servant. “As the advisor of the chief, I will try to appease both sides…” he shouted with all the confidence he could muster. Craniums turned and spears were lowered, but still kept in piercing distance. Beckoning his hand the servant asked them to be closer to the blades.
Listening intently to the proposition, the button was tapped to the next panel. All the painted eyes and heads of the spectators focused on the Advisor. Shrinking and hanging to the exit of the stage he stammered his idea. “I-I-I th-think th-that we sh-should h-hold.” Quickly he was interrupted by the unknown comment of a villager, “SPIT IT OUT ALREADY,” he snapped.
Fumbling with his hands he suddenly finished mixed in a splurge of anxiety. “We should a festival! A rain festival and have our goddess compete against the best villager of the desert rose tribe in a dance. Whoever dances for the longest wins! If Illuma's side wins we return what they wanted. If we win well, we claim your land and the losing dancer is exiled from our united territory. As the daughter of your tribe’s chieftain, I believe you have enough authority to decide.”
In her rash thinking, she knew no real goddess was in a form to commit a true dance so she agreed. Malek bent over laughing in delight with then leaving his sting of the terrible decision Illuma had made.
The curtains closed for a few mere minutes as the play was being adjusted for its final act. He tinkered and inserted the new backdrops and brought out his newer puppets. The man so enthralled by his performance failed to realize his audience had grown. Shop owners closed temporarily to sit around the stand, people on errands sat down as well. His narrative style was intresting and appealing as he wove the story.
The curtains opened and the tale continued. Fake torches stood in a raindrop orientation as the puppets took their places. Smiles were carved in the Sabalians and frowns were carved into the desert Roses. All the puppets of the tribes propped up neatly next to each other. Only one kept on smiling and that was Illuma. She took her place at the center as the top dancer of her tribe, with endurance and confidence she was sure to win.
Her father had laughed at her decision and chastised her, but if they did lose he would accept the defeat honorable. The only real issue would be their new chieftain, Malek. Illuma was going to dance with pride her apparel was more of the professional kind. It was intricate designs stitched into the fabric as they draped her legs and bosom. Her mouth barley covered and her hair wrapped against the jewelry of a queen. Her opponent came out into view, a strong woman who had no divine air to her at all. She seemed more of a harlot that had the skills to entertain men, but not bring rain. The real goddess had been watching in the distance of a hut’s window.
The two dolls danced spinning and twirling in their own motions. Illuma in a slow and graceful dance, while the ‘goddess’ doing elaborate shakes and spins while swiftly being on her feet. After two hours of dancing the goddess collapsed. The greedy chieftain in fear of losing such a great deal guffawed and clapped to Illuma. The Desert Roses cheered in happiness, but were shushed by the rising barked hand of Malek. Desperate now he decided to reveal the true goddess, the one of true abilities. He didn’t expect one his best harem girls to be bested and refuse to take defeat of such a grand chance.
“I congratulate you on passing the test, now let’s see how you best against our goddess!” he shouted. The winning tribe booed and hissed at the dirty stunt.
Mere moments later from the right exit of the stage a large hunched figure draped in crimson satin embroidered with gold walked out and into the center. The goddess said nothing and the two of them began to dance once more. After the first hour the goddess threw off her robes and revealed her true form. A Sabal Elkrin, the ones whose dances summoned torrents of rain, the Elkrin decorated in gold from head to hoof, all matching her coat like the grass.
Through their dancing the two met and locked in steps. With their feet and hooves they wrote to each other their messages and their love of dance and bringing happiness to others. They exchanged their words and names through dance. It had been several hours and neither had given up, the storm clouds came rolling in to spectate as well. A downpour came and the torches went out, but the two still danced. Neither letting up. An eternal contract exchanged through dance. A yearning for each other's company and started to match in dance, as one.
The two decided and agreed on a draw. The elkrin had disliked the chieftain who had stolen her from her old tribe and would prefer to be free. Through her life she danced with glee, but had been forced to do it against her will to bring rain. She wanted to dance when she wanted to and not when others did. The two of them at the same time dropped to the ground. Their puppets lying still before rising up and providing a bow to their audience, Malek stormed around and the people cheered as there was no deal for a tie. Both sides were losers and winners at the same time. In the end as technically both losers the Elkrin, Indrani and the Rider, Illuma, were exiled and traveled to provide rain to all in desert an Sabalian land.
The curtains closed for their last time and the crowd that had gathered cheered. Even in the far back the Rider and Elkrin clapped and stomped hooves as well to the story before proceeding to continue on to a town suffering of drought.
“Trust me this is what happened; I Shali saw it all with my eyes. As I was the advisor and could not deny this tale to be told to us all! So, your prize today is knowledge and insight, because I can promise there will be more rain tonight!”
