ANGEL

REMEN - PART 2

Just alike his kingdom, at home Meron were very wise and restrained, Latisa the queen were a very fair and honest woman, liked to help many people and herself prepared the balls, parties and meetings of Remen at their castle, wishing the help of their hundreds of servants just a time or other but never with rough and imposing words, despite to be a true queen and has the right. The princesses Dona and Margareth were two beautiful and polite girls that always were making everything possible to please her parents, inhabitants, society and a lot of guests at Remen´s balls that liked to see it, especially when it came to arrange good marriages to them when they come to the age and it of course did not take too long because the time it was passing by as a ray and soon the princesses were grown up and more eye-catching than ever; well, Margareth, the youngest daughter much more than Dona, the eldest one. On the contrary of everyone´s thoughts, Margareth could has the feat to be far more beautiful and charming than her sister and it began to tease and hurt Dona´s feelings that did not see Margareth as her beloved and dear sister anymore but her main rival before the eyes of Remen, her probable and future suitors to marry and especially the throne of the king that certainly would pass to one of them that would became queen and her husband, the next king.

Obviously, all the looks of men, being princes, counts, dukes or plebeians, it was to Margareth that used to answer it with kindness and education, but indifferent the same way. Unfortunately, it did not serve to appease and clear Dona´s mind up but only to awake more envy up and to nurture the desire and ambition of a woman willing to do everything to gain the power of the world just to her and it almost was hers if not for one thing that would change and involuntarily would destroy their lives forever…

Demonto, the brave warrior of the tribe Una Fajo.

This tribe it was poor and humble, but the largest and more populous of the entire tribes and little villages around that space, at light-years far away from the castles and empires that contrasted with their old splintered wood tents and straw bolt-hole at a sandy and almost deserted scene, being the first to be made and the eldest with ancient ancestors and wise healers, as the Hazanãs, the advisors and prophets of their culture, that represented a mix of Indians and Africans that got into Remen as hostages from other worlds at very far ages and were rejected and separated from the evergreen, but never killed because it only would bring bad luck and ruins to the king Meron Spark that would have to do everything to appease the differences, make a bridge up to speak with them, peacefully and with understanding, but it never was an easy task because they really were very different from the evergreen, so different that it seemed as if two different and divergent worlds was into just one world at a point of shock, collapse that was difficult to control.

With the blood of Indians and Africans flowing through their veins and hearts, it was even more difficult to control the desire and madness to create their own laws, follow their own lives and leaders of each tribe and mainly to enter into the disputes, the fights and the primary root of their upbringing and essence respecting and saving the nature, feeding them by their own, don´t needing to much to survive, but calling their warrior and fearless interiors to fight each other at sacred and usual rituals and quarreling each time a problem or indecision it was hovering upon their heads and minds, but between them, deaths and long disagreements it never once was their true and loyal friends, the quarrels and fights did not mean dislike and hard rivalry, on the contrary, it only meant a strong instinct for the survival and a token of faith, sources and courage.

As waited, they did not mind or worry about the king and his decisions and polite requests because they knew it was fruitless being them, owners of their own lives and dancers of the fight that mixed foot-fighting dance with a famous Indian dance created by them called the alive hurricane that got this name because during the main rhythms and steps of the foot-fighting dance, it marked by constant trips, violent strikes and extraordinary jumps and attacks at the air against the opponent, you could perfectly realize the addiction of strong and accurate turns that served just to puzzle the opponent´s mind up and take him off his balance. Surprisingly, the turns it was made with the feet stuck at the ground, never jumping or making somersaults and the effect it produced, it was magnificent, the wind as their loyal and inseparable ally always swirling around the “arms” of the hurricane and shaking the basis of the most fearless and seasoned warrior, but this dance only could to be done for other seasoned and deft warriors, the dance of the hurricane, it states that if a green, very young and not properly fortified and made at union with the elements of the nature, including the wind, of course, dare to dance what he cannot and does not know to dance, the effects it will be terrible and mortal to him, it will be the punishment of the four elements that will come at once to claim each one, a part of his, the wind will blow his skin up till it bleed, the fire will consume slow and violently his heart and soul, the black-blue water allied with the revengeful and evil souls of those warriors killed by the punished will come again to the tribe and drown him up into the drowning of the lost that will make him swallow each stab of pain and death that he provoked at other times, namely, to each dead fighter, one death holding all the pains, sufferings and destructions of its building and finally the earth to bury him and delete his name and face up from the entire tribes and world for good, aye, to them a good way to a lost and loser warrior to die and the said person will has so many deaths at his backs that it will take many lives and turns of the galaxy so he can come back to Remen again, if one day he does.

The tribe Una Fajo it was especially the place of meetings and disputes for them and it was fulfilled every day, rather every night with the potent and unmistakable beats of the drums that used to foretold a fight between celebrated warriors, to incite the rivals to jump, kick and smash each other quickly with their swaying, trucks and blows, it unable to send a man to his tomb at a blink of an eye and finally to call the neighbors tribes and their people to come and see the disputes with their own eyes, share and exchange their acknowledges and legends and when a man has the appropriated age, to find a good princess warrior that´s called the bravest women from each tribe that has fought their first fight and has the red marks of their first blood it printed on their left cheeks with tiny patches exactly to show and prove they are mature and woman enough to reproduce with a great warrior and the first blood of their first  dead opponent it printed on their right cheeks to show that they are courageous, seasoned and coarse enough to feed them and survive to anything and anyone if need be, the marks with the blood still clear, soft and thin it mean that the woman or girl( many can have less than fifteen or sixteen) had her hard and painful task recently( the less valued) and the marks with the blood hard, tough, dark red and so old that´s very dry already, it mean that the woman is even better and powerful before the eyes of the warriors, and furthermore the latter are their favorite.

The closest tribe from Una Fajo it is the Zoka Lanc with their black medicine man and their customs to tell myths and legends occurred when the first tribe raised its landing at Remen, their leader and healer is Razora Sumek and he´s known to be a visionary man with powers conceived by his central spirit connected with everything around him. This central spirit it is his chosen spirit amidst hundreds of others representing his states and it stay concentrated into his supreme halo at the emblematic depths of the conspiracy, the secret place where no one knows and can be more terrible speaking about Razora Sumek, where the fact touches the heart, the center of everything, there is his spirit that everything feels and nothing hides but itself.

Another curious race living at the rounding and banks of the Una Fajo, it is the Rassa Rassa, the most thirsty blood tribe at the whole Remen, you just have to look at them and you soon find out what I mean, they are soaked from the head to heels with the blood of their rivals, when they die at the end of the fight, then they make a natural pool with their blood so they can bath into the “water of the victory” and furthermore to  mark and impregnate their internal colors on their bodies and impose respect to the eyes of many other tribes, not fear because they fear nothing, neither the death that can be sweet or violent to them, but many times honorable and imposing at least.

The tribe Upaka Maka bring forth the men without shadows that swallow their own due the tradition stating that black and evil specters chase after them day and night and it is not a good thing to them because it can destabilize and eliminate their strength little by little, if their shadows stay outside them, it brings bad luck and death, but if themselves swallow their own shadows, it put more ardour and craving to their depths, making it easy to win the battle and the most incredible it is that when they finally win, they spit their shadows out again just to finish at once their rivals with the black and menacing hands closing around their necks and allowing to escape the whole time it stayed imprisoned into their owner´s bodies, the fury and desire to throw it upon someone.