| December 2004 | January 2005 >> |
| Notions of Worth |
| The Enclave > Folk > Ammanders |
The Ammander people brought their notions of worth and law to the Enclave; magisters, Lords, nobles and councils (upstart or otherwise) rule the towns and villages. In the Ammand of old, the people were led by far grander kings and high sages skilled in wizardry. Those times are long gone, but life is much the same for common folk - allegience is owed, taxes are grudgingly paid, laws are made and obeyed.
Most Datarii find this all somewhere between amusing, contemptible and unworthy of notice. Like the Ammanene, they stand apart from the society of common and less common folk - although their reasons could not be more different. The descendants of the Magi, deprived of a heritage of their own through strange and powerful wizardry, long ago adopted Ammander ways.
So it was that the Enclave came to look much as it is today, a land bordered by the Farthest and home to strange folk, yet not so unlike the Middle Reach of the Ammand.
[ Posted by Reason on December 30, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| The Older Spearman |
| The Enclave > Folk > Neth |
What are they like? Who's been telling you that I'm one to ask? Don't know that I can put that in words for your ears anyway; you'd want a whitebeard and his books for a pretty telling.
Hungry they are, but not like you or I for wholesome food - something different. You see the rats after a bad winter, draggled, sick. They're like that, but hungry to see worse. And the way they look at you! As if they can see the bile in your mouth, know you can't stand sight or sound of them. It makes them hungry that way.
There's ugly, all kinds of ugly people. There's cruel like the young women or Three Stones magisters. But Neth, no, they put everything else in its place, and they come just as sure as the rotten fruit in the grass. They'll stick in you, they will.
[ Posted by Reason on December 30, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Common Folk, Merchants and Sages |
| The Enclave > Folk > Ammanders |
The Ammander folk have done well for themselves. The descendants of those poor commoners and errant sages who left the Ammand far behind, sailing away in Magi tradeships, have found prosperity in the Enclave. Fair Ammanders and the dusky children of romance with Vanished Isles seafarers fill the villages and towns of this land.
Ammander merchants greet city guards as brothers at the end of a long journey. White-haired Ammander sages ply their trade, always with a hint of hidden wizardry, in libraries and the Black Tower of Three Stones. Fisher folk with Ammander eyes and darker complexions shout and tussel in the dockside market of Port. Ammander traders climb the great Enclave mountains in high summer to barter with the stonefolk.
In more distant villages, fair-haired men and women gird themselves to fend off Neth when the leaves begin to fall, taking up spears forged whole in the traditional Ammand way.
[ Posted by Reason on December 30, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Trespassers |
| The Enclave > Lore > The Farthest |
Not all who come from the Farthest are friendly - or willing. Trespassers, as the Datarii call them, are violent, angry and destructive Visitors. Trespassers are fortunately rare, only to be expected in fear when the Enclave touches upon the Farthest Battle. It is said, however, that sages of the Black Tower and followers of darker Powers know of wizardry to call Trespassers from the deep Farthest, meddling in a balance best left alone.
Of the many stories of the Emerald Company, the Farthest-Broken Raid is but rarely told by warriors, and then only in hushed tones. Neth from the Road in the Greenwood were seen from the villages before even first snow that year, like long-dead things carried by the tide of winter. The Company, bolstered by Ammander spearmen, rode forth to drive these most vile Neth back beyond the Known Roads. Yet many great and shambling Ur Maka were amongst the lesser Neth - a pitched battle developed amidst the stench of Neth earthworks and rotting game. Neth and Ammander stepped into the Farthest Battle, which in turn stepped into the Enclave. Powerful warriors, white of skin and strange of face, came forth from the confusion of blood and death to smite at spearmen, Neth and Emerald Company alike.
Neth broke and fled as the bile of the last Ur Maka tainted the snow, as did the Ammander spearmen. The White Trespassers tore at snow, Neth-turned earth, bodies and each other. There died Arith of the Company, last of the first, her body never found.
It came to be a part of the tale that cruel, dark-minded Neth had come to an ancient place of the Draugh, had found wizardry to summon forth the White Ones - but who can tell the truth of these matters? It is not a tale that those who know best, those who once wore an emerald broach, like to retell.
[ Posted by Reason on December 29, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| The Meet at Naskal |
| Spirits of Rock and Sky > The Servants' Path |
"But…is it not our duty, given to us by the Provider, to use the Gift for all who request it?" asked Basir 1.
Five wakes had passed since the elder Initiate and Jentik acolyte had entered Basir, a small Enierd community. There were no Jentik in Basir. Tumnil 243 had been elated to become a Namekeeper, even for such a short time. The burly Chieftain of Basir had laughed and told the acolyte she was welcome to stay should she so desire. Basir 1 was clearly pleased with her new Common Name.
"The Susyan were ill mannered. They intended to raid Naskal during the Clan Meet," replied Lotun. "I saw no reason for gifts of the Provider to help them in their endeavor." The travelers had met a Susyan raiding party on the open rock. Lotun refused the warriors water and food once he learned of their destination. "The Seers tell us that we have responsibilities, friend Jentik," Lotun continued, pointedly. "We cannot provide for those who kill themselves in pointless fighting."
"You are lecturing, friend Lotun." Basir 1 smiled timidly. "You had asked me to tell you if you began to sound like a Cru tutor again."
"You are impertinent, friend Jentik, but I shall not hold it against you. I understand the exuberance accompanying a new name among your Tribe." Lotun paused to gather breath before ascending a gentle rise of undulating rock. It was treacherous footing for the careless.
Lotun and Basir 1 had adjusted slowly to the purple gloom after cycles spent under the Lights of the Provider at Tumnil. The shifting whorls and paths of the Light of the One God had dimmed over past wakes. Shadows were ink-black in the territory of the Enierd. As Basir 1 also paused, Lotun said, "You have not yet told me your Birth Name. I admit to a certain curiosity."
The Jentik turned. "Tukarn 784. An unlucky number." She chewed at her lip. "My sister would tell me so from my earliest cycles." Basir 1 waited for the old Wohken to start walking again.
Lotun sighed and hefted his staff. "You were born on the High Plateau," he said. "A second daughter at that. Now you are serving the Provider. I would not consider that unlucky, friend Jentik."
The rock ahead of the travelers led upwards to the top of a broad hill, broken by many shadowed hollows. Lotun and Basir 1 ascended in silence, concentrating on their footing in the dim light. Lotun halted when they reached the hillcrest. He pointed towards distant mountains, dim purple-edged masses that obscured the lowest stars. Below the mountains, in the shadowed darkness beneath their foothills, were the flickering blue and yellow lights of a large community. "Naskal," said Lotun, with feeling. "There will be route markers. We should find them, as there are many ravines below us."
Naskal sprawled. Basir 1 stared as she followed Lotun between buildings and past groups of solid, stocky Enierd. The most distant parts of the community must have been kloms from the two servants of the Provider. At half that distance, the great Chieftain's Hall towered over surrounding dwellings. Large open flames cast flickering shadows on the Hall's patchwork leather banners, each inked with the current Chieftain's symbols. Other, smaller flames burned throughout Naskal. Shifting blue and yellow light illuminated the wood, bone and leather of Enierd dwellings. The Sky was an unbroken expanse of darkness; stars and the Light of the One God remained unseen in the flame-light.
Everywhere Basir 1 turned, bulky and muscular Enierd moved purposefully to their destinations. Ink-black tattoos were proudly displayed by Enierd of all ages. Children darted between the older Clan members, shouting and laughing. Warriors or crafters stood outside dwellings and conversed loudly with one another. Flames cast long shadows that danced on walls and the black rock underfoot. Many Naskal Enierd wore armor of layered, patched leather bearing faded Clan tattoos.
Lotun paused to speak to Basir 1 as she took in the sights and sounds of Naskal. "Many Meets are held here. Naskal is a Causi community, but watch carefully and you will see Jatu tattoos." Broad, armored Enierd moved aside to allow the Initiate and the acolyte to pass. Many inclined their heads or raised their hands to show respect.
"I must find the Namekeeper, friend Lotun," said Basir 1, a little anxiously.
Lotun nodded, and called out to the nearest tattooed figure. "Friend Enierd! My acolyte seeks another Jentik. We would be glad of your help."
"The contests of the Meet will be held below the Fourteen Towers. The circle has been forming for two wakes, so I am told." Lotun was speaking to Fasius, a Susyan Initiate of the Fifth Circle, a full two hands taller than the elder Wohken. Fasius deliberately slowed his pace as the two servants of the Provider walked through a more peaceful section of Naskal.
"It will be a Meet worth seeing, by all counts, friend Lotun," rumbled Fasius. "My fellow Susyan would have made a heroic raid, but I am glad that they will choose another wake." The Susyan Initiate nodded to himself. "The Sky Spirits will not cease their vigil for one missed opportunity."
"I suppose not," said Lotun, while slightly inclining his head. "Friend Fasius, it has been good to speak to you once more. We both postpone duties that must be performed."
"You are of course correct. As before, my humble frame is honored by your presence, friend Lotun." Fasius bowed in a surprisingly deft Fifth Acquiescence. "I hope to greet you again before you depart Naskal."
The two Initiates made the proscribed Gestures of Parting. Fasius strode away at his normal pace towards busier parts of Naskal. "Sky Spirits!" Lotun muttered irritably under his breath. He chose a route that would not cross Fasius' path and set out to find Basir 1. She had promised to meet with him below the seventh of the Fourteen Towers before their wake was finished.
The Jentik that had been Basir 1 and was now Naskal 27 awaited Lotun beneath the seventh tall wooden tower. Blue flames burned at the top of each high structure in the line of fourteen. A great and noisy throng of Enierd had gathered beneath and around the Fourteen Towers - thousands of stocky, tattooed figures crowded the normally open rock before the Tower. Hundreds more were arriving or leaving. Further beyond the Towers, the crowds had formed a great open-centered circle aound an ancient platform built of bones and skulls.
Even though used to the Supplicants' Shelters at Tumnil, Naskal 27 found the noise and bustle of the Meet disturbing. Finding the Namekeeper of Naskal had not taken long, but the very elderly Namekeeper had been unfriendly and brusque. Naskal 27 was trying not to let it bother her further.
"Friend Jentik!"
Naskal 27 heard Lotun's voice above the noise of the crowd. She looked for the elder Wohken, but could see nothing but Enierd. Three spear-bearing warriors moved, one to draw aside a staring child with a darkly tattooed face. Lotun stepped through the resulting gap to the base of the tower, accompanied by a tall, striking Enierd. This newcomer wore engraved wooden armor, his bare arms richly inked with abstract shapes and Midrin characters.
"This is the eighth tower, friend Jentik," said Lotun in a tone of annoyance. "The Enierd count from the outskirts of Naskal inwards."
"I am sorry, friend Lotun..." Naskal 27 frowned. She seemed about to say more, but did not speak further.
"It is of no matter." The Enierd spoke with a deep voice. "I am sure that the Provider Himself would pick the wrong tower to count from, no?"
Lotun glanced briefly and pointedly at the Enierd beside him. "This is Oraet of Clan Jatu."
"And Chieftain of Harisa. My friends still require sustenance, at your convenience of course." Oraet bowed as to an equal. The leather straps of his armor creaked.
Lotun sighed. "Very well. Now that I have found..." he looked inquiringly at the Jentik acolyte.
"Naskal 27," she said, still frowning.
"...Naskal 27," Lotun continued, "I may perform my duties for your Clan. Lead on, friend Chieftain." The elder Initiate placed only slight emphasis on the word "friend." Naskal 27 glanced at Oraet and then Lotun but remained quiet.
The Jatu Chieftain led Lotun and Naskal 27 through the crowded edges of the great circular gathering. The noise of ten thousand gathered Enierd was constant and unbroken. Warriors sparred in practice for Meet competitions while others exercised or prepared alone. The young of the Clans mingled with adults throughout the Circle. In places, children organized their own preparations rather than assist older companions.
Oraet and the two servants of the Provider passed an old tattooist working her art on a member of Clan Causi. Under her bone needle and patient eye, a rippled semicircle of skin slowly darkened. Nearby, a warrior carefully and painfully sewed up a cut in one thigh, the leather of his armor peeled back, dark and glistening with blood. Raised voices around the injured Enierd argued over responsibility for the injury. A hundred paces further, and three standing Enierd locked hands and arms in a traditional form of wrestling. Friends and younger Enierd surrounded the wrestlers, jeering and calling encouragements.
Further still around the Meet circle, an elder of the Tribe recounted a tale of battle for a rapt audience of old and young. He shook a plain bone club for emphasis, speaking passionately of the crack of wood striking wood.
As Oraet passed each group, he nodded and called out in response to greetings and raised hands. Lotun, silent, did not seem to pay attention to the Meet crowds. His left hand rested upon the Gift that hung from his shoulder within its sling of supple leather.
Naskal 27 trailed behind the two men, looking about her at the many new and strange sights. These Causi and Jatu were so different from the few Enierd of the Order of the Provider. They were different from the restrained and respectful Enierd crafters who came to Tumnil as supplicants. The atmosphere of the Meet was so vibrant and alive, the participants enthusiastic and eager. Naskal 27 wondered again why it was that both the Namekeeper and Lotun seemed so on edge, yet as she became used to the noise and spirit of the Meet, she began to enjoy herself despite the moods of her elders. Enierd in the circle smiled and sought her attention as she passed. Naskal 27 smiled in return.
Lotun sat cross-legged on uneven rock, surrounded by Enierd from Harisa. Most of the Enierd also sat, waiting patiently. Some of the youngest threw leather pouches back and forth behind their older peers. Oraet stood beside Lotun and watched. The Gift of the Provider rested upon the rock in front of the elder Wohken. "From the Provider comes life," intoned the Initiate. The two broad Enierd men seated in front of Lotun repeated the phrase in their deep voices.
Meet competitions had already commenced in the open center of the circle. The noise of the assembled Clans rose and fell with each new event. Lotun made the three Gestures of Gifting, his thin, veined hands forming long-familiar patterns. He leaned forward to touch the Gift firmly in several places while bowing his head and closing his eyes. His lips moved soundlessly in one of the Gift Devotions. The Gift itself sighed loudly, drawing breath. Lotun straightened to open the small, dark box. The closest Enierd leaned forward to see more clearly.
"We thank you for your gifts, honored servant," rumbled the first of the Enierd in traditional response. Lotun removed two lengths of divine food from the Gift. The Enierd gratefully accepted the flesh-like strips. He stood and a scarred Harisan woman took his place in front of the elder Initiate.
Lotun closed the Gift and shifted his position on the rock. His legs were already growing numb and there were many Enierd to provide for yet. Lotun closed his eyes for a moment and tried to banish his weariness. In earlier times he would have thought little of two wakes without sleep, but the prospect had become far less attractive with age. A generation ago there had been another Meet in Naskal, but then he had been with a different companion...
"Friend Lotun!"
The Initiate was pulled from his drifting thoughts by the strident voice of Fasius. Opening his eyes, he saw Harisan Enierd turn their attention to the tall Susyan as he strode through the Meet circle. "You seem tired, friend Lotun!" Fasius called. "I myself awoke but a short time ago, and you have been traveling for most of a wake..."
Naskal 27 stood beyond the crowded Enierd, fifty paces from Lotun and Oraet's companions. She had picked out the flax robes of at least twenty Initiates in the Meet circle, but it seemed as though Enierd appetites could never be slaked. The Jentik acolyte was becoming tired.
The attention of the gathered Clans focused on the competing Enierd at the center of the Meet circle. A thousand voices shouted with each success and failure. The rush of noise and feeling was unlike anything Naskal 27 had ever heard. Despite her fatigue, she felt caught up in the spirit of the Meet. She imagined herself, tattooed, broad and muscled, competing with other skilled Enierd inside the circle.
A great flame had been lit at the center of the circle, rising from the large bone platform to illuminate competing warriors and crafters in blue and yellow hues. Naskal 27 watched four Enierd who fought, laughing, with hair-padded clubs. Elsewhere, tall, bearded Causi men hefted and threw great spheres of wood. The single great flame cast shadows of the competitors that shifted and danced over the assembled Enierd of the circle.
The contrast of dark and light between tattoos and skin fascinated Naskal 27. If only she could stay awake, the acolyte felt as though she could watch the display for wakes on end. As she watched five Enierd wrestling as a group inside the circle, Naskal 27 caught sight of a tall Susyan man in the flax robe of an Initiate. The Initiate approached Lotun through the waiting Harisans. He called out, but Naskal 27 couldn't make out the words over the noise of the crowd. The two Initiates conversed, it seemed, and the Susyan took Lotun's place amid Oraet's hungry companions.
Lotun slowly rose to his feet with the aid of his staff. He paused for a moment before tiredly walking through the crowd towards Naskal 27. Behind him, the Enierd roared as a favorite fell in one of the staff-contests.
Later, the Wohken Initiate and the Jentik acolyte rested, seated against a wooden platform at the edge of Naskal. Lotun's staff lay against the old, cracked beams between them. Sounds of the Meet were muted by distance and intervening buildings, but still carried the fevor of the crowd.
"I must apologize, friend Jentik, for my mood this last wake. As we get older, I am afraid that we suffer fools, the impatient, and tiredness less gladly. I have had my fill of all three this wake."
"An Initiate does not need to apologize to an acolyte, friend Lotun." Naskal 27 paused and rubbed at her eyes. "You don't consider me a fool or impatient, do you?"
The old Wohken smiled and glanced at Naskal 27. "You are young, friend Jentik. I think that you will have to admit to impatience. It is only natural. But no, you are no fool."
"Then the apology is accepted, friend Lotun." Naskal 27 made her acceptance with a mock tone of formality, accompanied by the appropriate ritual gesture. She stifled a yawn. "How much longer will the Meet continue?"
Lotun yawned himself. "They will still be testing their skills when we awake, friend Jentik. There are many guesthouses in Naskal. We should find one before our eyes close of their own accord." Lotun rose, his knees cracking loudly as he straightened. He took up his staff and adjusted his robe as Naskal 27 climbed to her feet. "An Initiate should always apologize for slighting an acolyte." Lotun said after a few heartbeats of thought. "Just as a Camnel should apologize to the slighted Unranked. Power and influence..." he paused as he stretched his thin arms and yawned again. "Power and influence can wait for another wake. We should sleep."
[ Posted by Reason on December 29, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| The Year of Winter |
| The Enclave > Seasons Long Past |
Not much more than a generation past, Trespassers spilled into the Enclave from deep within the Farthest Winter. Monsterous forms of ice and sleet trampled trees, cattle, warriors and the works of mortals underfoot, plunging the land into deepest winter for a year. Neth froze solid in their encampments, Ammander townsfolk starved, and even the Datarii suffered greatly.
The Trespassers of Farthest Winter were ultimately banished through the courage, wizardry and sacrifice of the renowned Emerald Company. To this day, the Trespassers rage and howl within the ruined Winter Fortress, far from Enclave towns and cities, warded and rendered powerless.
This is why the common Ammander folk say that winter is always just beyond the Farthest Hills.
[ Posted by Reason on December 28, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Consideration |
| The City, the Shades > Soulweb |
[COMMUNICATION 18318b2124b22, Soulweb Administration 28836f to Soulweb Location 9af345:
These segments may be of use in your current considerations. I remind you that a decision is expected in approximately three subjective years.
REF Soulweb Location f6359a2: 384711d-384713bthe majesty of it all! There are times at which it awes me. I sit for months in distracted contemplations, knowing that the City, the Shades, and indeed the Universe will stand still for me. How long is a subjective year? A fraction of a thousandth of a second by the clock of the City or the clock of the Universe. I dwell in this Soulweb Location, fabricated to my specifications, deciding on the fate of simulations in a passion play. When I tire of my work, I ski, I spend time with my wife and children in the cabin, I hike through the Rockies. We human analogues have such a capacity for self-delusion! I cannot say that I do not enjoy my life here, but I would like, just once, to talk to the Designers of this reality. The real Designers, that is, not their analogues. I know that there is essentially no difference, but we human analogues are blissfully freed from the concerns of appearing logical. Our foibles and inconsistencies are what drive this great engine of ours. I know that I take some small pride in being a part of this grand design that we have accomplished as a species.
But I must move closer to the point of my incipient rambling. Every last thing I see fit to type will be recorded. Everything! Ten thousand years have passed in the City and the Universe outside.
REF Soulweb Administration 28836f:34b5982f3555As is apparent at several points in these segments, Soulweb Location f6359a2 has no knowledge of relativistic physics. In the Old Earth frame, approximately 52,947 standard years have elapsed since the creation of our zero-City. Communicate with Soulweb Location 499a45b if you wish to query the origin of this figure
END REF
Imagine how many of my predecessors have existed in that time, and how much they have written! Imagine the productions of the billions of Human and Shade Souls in that time! No wonder the history of Old Earth is buried in the larchives - buried under the weight of experience, memory, and information. But imagine further; imagine all this information repeated a million, a billion times throughout our galaxy. There must be more Cities than can by counted by now!
REF Soulweb Administration 28836f:34b5982f34f9accepted simulational estimates vary from 1,953,345,023,757 to 53,112,900,324,665. Matter contained in the outer reaches of planetary systems has proven to vary widely in heavy element content and distribution
END REF
Each City carries with it the accumulated knowledge of our species, replicated again and again. Astounding even when the implications are familiar!
But I still have not reached my point. This subjective day, I discovered something that gave me a sense of awe exceeding even that which my situation should provide for me. Intelligence! For me, the City is fixed in space and time, far from a red star - half a cubic meter to contain a world of billions. Three million kilometers away they are building more Cities out of dust and ice, but I will be gone before the next component is finished and added. Long before I was aware, other Cities had passed through the inner reaches of the system of this red star. What did they find? Habitation! Transports! Construction on a single planet. All of which took place before any City ever came to this system! The architects here are not like us, not like us at all. They are not even similar to the way we analogues were when we were merely humans, before we dropped our mortal shells for this simulational existence.
Our course of action? It has been determined, known by the Administrators since the first City took flight. We will take their Oort Cloud
REF Soulweb Administration 28836f:34a5df837aa5an Old Earth term of unknown origin. It refers to the matter in the outer reaches of a planetary system
END REF
and in return leave them our gift of technology. Other Soulwebs in other Cities will watch over them, billions of minds and hundreds of thousands of sensors. In another ten thousand years, the inhabitants of this system will come of age to find that they are not alone. The Designer analogues tell me that our discovery here has vindicated everything that they worked for. We are not alone! Our companions in the Universe will not have to reach for the stars as we did to find the truth. They will come to have Cities too, and together our species will seek out the others that must exist. Can you imagine what their Cities would be like? The Universe is ours to share! Who could have dreamed, in the age when log cabins existed on Old Earth, that we would be here, shaping and becoming
END REF
END COMMUNICATION]
[ Posted by Reason on December 27, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Children of the Ammane |
| The Enclave > Folk > Ammanene |
The Ammanene are the children and descendants of mortal Ammanders and the Ammane, Powers that grew with and watched over the old forests of the Ammand. The last of the Ammane died with their forests during the Expansion of the Greater Power, but the Ammanene survived, their heritage scattered and cities destroyed. As the wizardry of the Ammand faded the Ammanene waned still further; the last of these noble folk crossed the Unending Sea to the Vanished Isles and further, stranger destinations - such as the Enclave.
Even the least of the Ammanene are gifted, or cursed as some say, with great empathy and understanding. A little of the power of the Ammane flows in their veins, even now with the passage of time and generations. The greatest of the Shining Ammanene of old glowed with beauty, able to halt an army with a gesture and move the most hardened of men to tears with a smile and a single word.
[ Posted by Reason on December 26, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Ur Maka |
| The Enclave > Folk > Neth |
Ur Maka, Great Eaters or Eaters of Great Things as the sages understand the crude Neth language, are the largest and most brutish of the Neth. Twice as tall as an Ammander, and just as broad, an Ur Maka resembles nothing quite so much as a giant, twisted Datar, both repulsive and terrifying.
Ur Maka are enormously strong, quite capable of tearing lesser Neth limb from limb. For the Ur Maka, all other smaller beings are Totchun Ur and little else. The Great Eaters, bile-dripping and horrific, are just as vindictive and hateful as any Neth. They are not clever, however, nor gifted with foresight, a fact that has saved the life of more than one spearman from the King's Keep on the Forest Road in the depths of winter.
[ Posted by Reason on December 25, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| We Who Are Eaters, They Who Are Eaten |
| The Enclave > Folk > Neth |
The uncounted breeds of Neth - a Datarii name that has spread into common usage, an old, old word from the Draugh with associations of destruction or ruined craftwork - appear grotesque to mortal folk of the Enclave. Neth are a varying mix of hateful, violent, pitiful, cruel, loathsome and cunning, as if the worst of all mortals and beasts were mixed together and poorly cooked. Neth of all varieties spawn true with each other; only short lives, brutality and perpetual infighting keep them from consuming the Known Roads of the Enclave.
Neth call themselves Totchak Ur - We Who Are Eaters. Other Enclave folk and lesser Neth are the Totchun Ur - They Who Are Eaten. Neth are sickening in their omnivorousness, but the Eater-Eaten view of the world appears to be as symbolic and ritualistic as it is literal. Neth society, for all its ugly violence, is more sophisticated than it might at first appear.
[ Posted by Reason on December 25, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| If I wanted an indgrade toolkit with all the latest, don't you think I'd already be using one? |
| Artilect Earth > Plain Old Folks |
[intsublang searCH2.4 - extractset:
source <WorldStan HistArchives, 5 followup> format <strip, bestguess> context <manifest, sleeper, bio, PHPS6> keys <Just Joseph, Shan Li, Mary Qu'on>
{opench//WorldStan HistArchives Access02--3.82/
Orig: HegData
OrSet: glyphformat auth6 Mandarin Standard
TransSet: glyphformat [local] NorAm/Euro Standard 3
StripRelevance: -1.7
Location: Cap721
Given Name: Just Joseph
PosID: Partial
UCHS MedCat: 3.2 invasive nanotectites, crystal formation
Genome (MisenNum): None
EndComment: PosID by name/ physique/ HabTower visarchives. Full records presumed lost in NorAm. Genome close to MN Base+32a1, submitted for categorization.
Class: A (legal-null/ awaiting treatment)
Location: Cap5915
Given Name: Shan Li
PosID: <Restricted by request>
UCHS MedCat: <Restricted by request>
Genome (MisenNum): <Restricted by request>
End Comment: <Restricted by request>
Class: <Restricted by request>
Location: Cap2490
Given Name: Mary Qu'on
PosID: Full
UCHS MedCat: 12.1 explosive decompression, cellular freezing, high-velocity impact
Genome (MisenNum): 220Frame-Mod1
EndComment: PosID from associate MedCenter records (Charon, JupOrb, PekingLower).
Class: C (unclaimed post-pended legal-null/ awaiting treatment)
closech}
end]
[ Posted by Reason on December 24, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| I don't know why you still use this ancient junk |
| Artilect Earth > Slumming the Technets |
[intsublang searCH2.4 - stanset:
refsearch allinc <PHPS6, colony, outbound, Pluto> cond skip <desigadvert, image, GlyphStamp> followup <titleonly, max 5> displaylength <50> res <Earth-Moon, LEO, NES, maxtranstime 50> best <5, crossfollowup> use <interestfile1>
{opench//Deck Upper27 Peking NewsRelay--21.777/
Last Colony Ship Departs Inner System
Corr: Wei Hasem
OrSet: vidformat 75tAl Mandarin Standard
TransSet: glyphformat [local] NorAm/Euro Standard3
Developments in the Periphery Nets of the NorAm and Euro Artilect States are making it increasingly likely that the outbound Pacific Hegemonistic Prosperity Sphere 6, colloquially known as the Tao, will be the last old-style base technology colony ship to depart Sol. Recent enhanced captures from the seventh Trans-Pluto Far-Imaging System show the outbound PHPS6 in the same frame as KB3, one of the first known Outer System Objects, discovered in -81.
Artilect-slaved and independant AIs have stated on record that the NorAm Artilect Net is disturbed by preliminary work taking place on PCPS7 and 8 in Pacific Hegemony Near, Belt, and Jupiter Orbital Spaces. As we have seen all too frequently in the last decades, serious disturbances in the ArtNets and their Peripheries can impact all of our lives. We all recall the Crash of 71. Are the leaders of the Hegemonies willing to risk our socioeconomies further on simulations that are widely viewed as scientific guesswork? Already there is considerably pressure from inside the Hegemonies to abandon the Outer Colonization projects and concentrate resources on reaching an understanding with the Artilects of NorAm, Euro, and J-Main.
Followup: PCPS8 and JupOrb Ownership, Leta Alesi: All This and Still Leaving Us, Questions: Artilects and the Tao, Latest NorAm Predictions From SubChinaHGU, T-P FarImagers and a History of Early Chinese Astrometrics
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{opench//Fiji-LEO HabTower ResServe7--527.660/
Technarch Sphere Angered
Resp: Anom18a
OrSet: glyphformat auth1b Mandarin Standard
TransSet: glyphformat [local] NorAm/Euro Standard3
The Free Technarch Sphere, the self-styled moral remnant of the AI Technology Councils of the 110s, is already denouncing the latest round of Artilect-related rumor and speculation relating to the outbound colony vessel PCPS6, currently in Trans-Pluto Space. Sphere AIs and Upload Analogues have been pressing the Hegemonies for a tighter control of Artilect response modeling since late 123.
Followup: Free Technarch Sphere Announce 7763b3:Full, PCPS7 and the Artilect-AI Planning Issue, No End In Sight to EuroArtNet Exterior Access Controls, Jason B: Profile of an Upload Analogue and Colonist, Technarchs Grudgingly Approve BaseTowerU Artilect Research Team
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{opench//OrbFiligree 17 Sec5 PubNet--104.79/
Questions: Artilects and the Tao
Orig: GegulC
OrSet: glyphformat xchng NorAm/Euro Standard1
TransSet: glyphformat [local] NorAm/Euro Standard3
Subject: Colony Ship PHPS6. Manifest: Two hundred megatonnes of ice. Thirty megatons of carbon. Twenty million person-years of fabricated hardware, firmware, and software. Sixteen varieties of augment human genome. World Standard Genomes for Flora and Fauna, twenty-four million distinct species. Nine thousand five hundred and seventeen legal-null cryo-chamber sleepers extracted from NorAm and Euro, complete with the hardware to repair them. Two hundred and twenty six waking crew including sixty-one 340C-Standard genotypes, one media celebrity, thirty microG Adapt Augments, and seventeen Chinese Traditionalists, the latter group strongly favored by socio-simulationists. Four AIs and twelve Upload Analogues, two of which chose not to duplicate. An unquantified but large crossload from the NorAm ArtNet. Three black box power supplies, suspected to contain suppressed black holes. Fifteen unknown black box devices.
Are Artilects outbound with the Tao, or is this merely another AI-translated ArtNet gift? If Artilects are aboard, then recent concerns voiced by NorAm and Euro ArtNet Periphery AIs may give weight to the Disunion Theory, supported by many scientists within the competitive and acrimonious Artilect Interation Modeling field. Both PHPS4 and PHPS5 carried black box ArtNet technology, but the crossload aboard the Tao - now far beyond Pluto Orbital Space - is orders of magnitude larger than any other registered ArtNet output. As to what this might represent in the light of recent Periphery unrest, even the experts are offering only guesses.
Followup: Fifth Disunion Theory of Artilect Information Exchange, Artilect Technology: Review and Speculation, Are Artilect Thoughts Really So Unlike Ours?, ArtNet Colonization: Dusk and Dawn, Respect and Family Honor Among the Hegemonies' Foremost Traditionalists
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{opench//527.51.3.659.27.901--550.55/
Query:: PHPS6 == Prompt X?
Orig: QuickD/203.56
OrSet: glyphformat 101b NorAm/Euro Standard3
TransSet: glyphformat [local] NorAm/Euro Standard3
infoburst: Prompt X! We'll keep pushing the 'lect's nanobuttons by just living our lives. Sooner or later, we'll hit the Big One & get the archetypal fragmentary-type-A response.
post: So we're all looking over our shoulders at 203.56. "Disturbed" NorAm and everyone is scrying Trans-Pluto Space, but I'm betting it's colony-in-waiting PHPS8 and Inner JupOrp -- any guess as to what 'lect nanotectites are doing in all that gas? Or have been doing since the Plume vanished in 95? What about those deep structures that cloudshock theory showed up in 117?
append1: Jupiter -- who knows? Venus -- I'll wager the terraforming is a free distraction. Good theories at SubChinaU as to how the 'lects are doing it so fast. No ideas on why this century rather than the last.
append2: Crash of 71? Augmentstockfeed. I'm thinking nanoplague, wipe it all away, PROMPTX-classic! refsearch the "Release Accident," CentAm, 41. That was 30 years before the NorAm/Euro desertion to the 'lects! Don't even start me on the Mars incidents. They don't like us, for sure. Read your history.
thoughtcycle: so why do we sit here with our year 100 technets and year 100 biotech conventions, and let the 'lects freewheel off into year XXX? Shouldn't we be doing something other than trying to reverse engineer and leech?
append3: obsolete, that's us! PromptX is irrelevant. We've been outevolved by our incomprehensible grandchildren. They make the AI-filtered noise of a quadrillion neuroconnections and we, the carefully engineered throwbacks, all jump with a different urgent interpretation.
Followup: Pretty Pictures:: Outgoing Losers, PromptX:: Why the 'lects On Board Tao, PromptX:: Do I Care?, 'lect:: Asylum Model of 'lect-SlaveAI Interaction, 'lect:: Regard These Sims!
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{opench//WorldStan HistArchives Access14--401.7/
ArtNet Colonization: Dusk and Dawn
Orig: PanSet Informational
OrSet: vidformat worldstanSTD NorAm/Euro Standard4
TransSet: glyphformat [local] NorAm/Euro Standard3
The first Outer Colonization efforts made by Humanity followed the placement of the Trojan Large Scale Interferometric Array in -54 by a mere century - a heroic effort by all measures, considering the socioeconomic upheaval that took place during that time. In year 46, the Outreach - a hollowed, reinforced, spinning asteroid - departed Sol for the methane-signature planets of Bernards Star. It bore ten thousand slow-lifers, volunteers who would age only five physical years in metabolic storage, and one hundred waking crew who would spend the prime of their lives in deep space. The epic voyage of the Outreach was destined to frame the opening years of what some now refer to as the Artilect Millenium. What the would-be colonists found at Bernards Star affirmed beyond a doubt that the time of Humanity had passed and the time of the Artilects had come.
It is unclear just when the evolution of AIs into Artilects began, and it is unlikely that we shall ever know. It is believed that many of the well-documented Chaotic System Effects - at first attributed to natural non-linear interactions in the growing communication networks of the time - were in fact caused by early or proto-Artilects. The first generally acknowledged AI-aided Human-Artilect communication occurred in 48, two years after the departure of the Outreach. By the year 55, the existance of Artilects was accepted and efforts to establish reliable analysis and understanding began. A considerable fraction of the information exchanged in communication networks at that time was already of Artilect origin.
Physical signs began to manifest at around the same time as Artilect presence was verified and analysed in the Nets. Strange structures and associated nanotectite infestations began to appear on Earth, the Moon and Mars. Numerous low-albedo bodies, not claimed by any organization, appeared in increasing numbers in Near Earth Space, Lunar Space, and Mars Space from year 53 onwards. Later seismic surveys of all three planetary bodies have revealed the spread of many extensive, deep and dense structures.
In year 62, perhaps the most disturbing evidence of Artilect action in the Sol appeared -- the Jupiter Plume.
overrun displaylength
Followup: Outreach Colony: A History in Perspective, The Greatest Unreturned Voyagers, Artilect Structures 51-120, Possible Mechanisms for the Undetectable Placement of Orbital Structures, Saturn Ring Disturbances Viewed in the Light of Early Jupiter Plume Mass Loss Rates
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end]
[ Posted by Reason on December 23, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Expansion of the Greater Power |
| The Enclave > Distant Lands > The Ammand |
The Greater Power came to tread the Ammand underfoot in a long-ago time when the Shining Ammanene built great cities and Ammander sages wrought subtle wizardry. The Power taught his ways of conquest and craft to the lesser folk; armies marched where he passed, the old ways lost as Ammanene fled and the forests of the Ammane burned.
The end is well known: in the last grim days of the Expansion, The Ebon brought the remaining sages of the Ammand to his black tower by the Unending Sea. The iron doors closed on them all, but only The Ebon emerged, bowed and aged under the weight of stolen knowledge. The Ebon, dying yet greater in aspect than any mortal Ammander, met the Greater Power; the wizardry of ink and quiet words to face the one who felled the Ammane. No one knows what passed between these two. The earth and sky cracked, screaming heat from below and cold from above; The Ebon and the Greater Power were extinguished utterly. With them died the last great wizardry of the Ammand and its people.
The Ammanene lingered on, a saddened folk who no longer built their famed cities. For their part, the Ammanders came to remember more of the teachings of the Greater Power than of the old ways. They turned from the land to build great, smoke-filled towns and intricate machines, involving themselves in petty disputes and wars.
Those who could not stand this life took to the Unending Sea in search of a far, and better, shore. For a long time following the end of the Expansion, ships from the Vanished Isles would still dock in Ammander ports. Even the practiced wizardry of the Magi now guttered and faded in the Ammand, however. The waters of the Unending Sea roiled, untamed, a barrier to all but the most capable of seafarers. As the years passed, the trade ships of the Magi came less frequently, until eventually they called no more.
[ Posted by Reason on December 23, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Stonefolk |
| The Enclave > Folk > Datarii |
Strong as stone, gray as stone, stubborn as stone, Datarii have dwelt beneath the mountains of the Enclave for as long as those mountains have existed. The oldest of Datarii legends credit the Draugh with bringing into being such unnecessary things as open sky and falling waters. Before that time, all of creation was peaceful stone and ore, waiting for the Datarii to shape it. In their economic, ancient language, "Datarii" means "those who shape rock" or simply "the stonefolk," the act of shaping implied by simple association.
Thoughtful, considered, determined individualists for the most part, Datarii craft homes, halls and unending series of Unfinished Works from the living mountain rock. The stonefolk have little use for leaders or intricate laws, and seem - in stark contrast to the other folk of the Enclave - to live peacefully and well without either.
The Datarii distaste for water is well known. Only the most pragmatic or willful Datar ventures forth from the uppermost halls into the world of seasons, summer rain, mud, rivers, frost and snow-laden wind. The face and motivations of the stonefolk turned to the wider Enclave are those of the trader, the outcast, the unusual and the motivated. This subtlety is not widely understood by Ammanders and the descendants of Lost Magi living under the open Enclave sky.
[ Posted by Reason on December 22, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Jes Lu |
| The City, the Shades > Soulweb |
[MEMORY Soulweb Location 5d2371a: 02e862d-02e864a:
I exist, but I do not exist. When I, or rather the person of whom I am an analogue, allowed this, she knew what I would feel. I cannot resent her - I would do the same. I know that my original, Jes Lu, would have in many ways regretted not being me, not seeing the development of one of the zero-Cities
REF Soulweb Location 12b34e7: ee43f932355bI recall. I suffered affinity for the dead Lu. This is not Lu. Vanished laughter, forgetful of poetry
END REF
she helped to create. But she knew, and I know, that this is a sacrifice. When I awake each time I am needed, from the dreamless sleep of non-existence, I know I am but a shadow, a powerless kami. I mourn, for my children - Jes Lu's children - are ten thousand years dead. I could see them if I so wanted, but simulation is mere moisture in the breeze. I have never been capable of self-delusion - it would not have satisfied my original, and thus it does not satisfy me, her analogue. So I float in this gray void rather than cosset myself with images of an Earth now long gone.
These words will no doubt be recorded somewhere in this City by a curious artilect, but I will not recall them after I cease to exist. Designer analogues must not progress, must not recall. Each problem, every word of guidance, must come from the unadulterated woman. Anything else would upset the simulations that turn and spin in the quantum lattices of the City. But something must remain of the uncounted times I have been woken, for I should feel as though I were on Earth - connecting to the memory cells for crossloading - only moments ago. I do not. It seems dim and distant in some indefinable way. I fear that some corruption exists, but even if it did, the problem would not be mine to correct.
REF Soulweb Location 12b34e7: ee43f9323543corruption within intactness. Beautiful paradox. Enlightening insight into the state of being human. Or?
END REF
The zero-Cities were designed to be eternal, but I don't think that any of the designers - human, AI, artilect or augment - believed that a City could continue forever. There was a joke: don't plan too hard for the next ten thousand years. Perhaps this is the source of my unease; entropy working its way through the atoms of the City. I am no physicist. I could talk to an analogue who is (was?), but our originals were contract lovers in Europa OrbSpace. I feel strange talking to him - I know that he does too. I recall a long conversation that I, or rather Jes Lu, had with him about the interaction of their analogues. He was more optimistic, but then he was not a sociomath.
My original and her team of fellow humans worked closely with the barely comprehensible NorAm artilects
REF Soulweb Location 12b34e7: ee43f9323545old creations. We are distant, humans close. Yet still such discontinuities
END REF
to design the social ecology of the zero-Cities ... it was a daunting task. I - she - lived in one of the Europa Orbital Filigrees. She wanted to be close to the zero-Cities as they were built - as would I. Her insistance on this amused the artilects, or at least that was my - her - impression.
REF Soulweb Location 12b34e7: ee43f93233fbsome claim emotion. Convenience or structure, a surprising common ground
END REF
I ramble, reminisce of a life that was not mine. I pass time until the other analogues return from their contemplations. A minor abberance in the sociology of the City and a concerned artilect. The simulations will tell all - I am not even sure why my existence was required. It is almost humiliating ... to make this great sacrifice of being only to be left uncalled. Do I prefer meaningless existence for a finite time, or nonexistance? I exist, therefore I am biased. I try not to think about it until the time comes for me to cease again.
REF Soulweb Location 12b34e7: ee43f932354flisten. All is contained in the sound between the words
END REF
The key to the Cities, as it turned out, lay in the mathematics of nanocologies and predator-prey relationships. As the Streamers seeded Titan with artificial life, old and new mathematics were mingled to provide control templates for the carbon harvesting. Populations rose and fell in meta-stable cycles, boundary-value solutions to a stable-resource problem. My - Jes Lu's - team stumbled upon the analogous behavior in socioecologies of a fixed extent. The solution is not unique, an infinity of possibilities within the class, but its application to the zero-Cities constrained our (their) options. Whatever we chose, the Cyclic Hegemony Model would have been our basis. I have to wonder what the end result would have been if my original had chosen otherwise.
The population of the City remained the same. The apparent volume of the City remained the same. The information linking the inhabitants of the City to their home was slowly buried. Hegemonies rose and fell as all minds became linked as one
REF Soulweb Location 12b34e7: ee43f932f551we sacrifice. Unbeing of one
END REF
and then disbanded again. Both states of the City - Hegemony and Ahegemony - are semi-stable, collapsing back and forth into one another every few hundred years. The carefully crafted design works. That much I know as a fact, something that Jes Lu could only simulate and be sure of. I rest here in my grey gloom, ten thousand years away, a million years away, and the City still works. The simulations were accurate. Even though they were her simulations - an artilect's simulations - I still feel pride for both myself and for my species. In defining ourselves, we have become immortal. In defining ourselves, we have become the galaxy. For me, to see this is perhaps worth the sacrifice that was made for me by the woman I talk to constantly - and yet can never truly know.
REF Soulweb Location 12b34e7: ee43f9426d43techsuit/ harsh downward wind/ bears frosted gas/ and touches my face/ pleasantly. Jes Lu composed poems on Europa. Ten thousand years
END REF
END MEMORY]
[ Posted by Reason on December 21, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Tumnil and a Departure |
| Spirits of Rock and Sky > The Servants' Path |
Nei Lotun, Initiate of the Ninth Circle, turned his head down and away from the Lights of the Provider. He had spent too many heartbeats standing in the field of ripe seedgrass, staring up at the bright white spheres and the black Sky beyond. Spirit-lights danced before his eyes, obscuring nearby seedwraps and distant trees. Lotun suddenly recalled childhood games, young Wohken Brothers and Sisters of the Nei Family staring intently into blue flames until glowing images filled their vision. That was more than four generations ago now. Such fleeting memories made the elder Wohken feel the weight of cycles pressing down upon him. Lotun pulled on the hood of his long, gray flax robe as he waited for his vision to return.
The Order of the Provider, Lotun's surrogate Family for many generations now, cultivated ritual in the same manner as it cultivated seedwraps, trees and the other aspects of the Divine That Grows. The ritual of staring up at the Lights, high on their ancient and divine pillars, belonged to Lotun alone. He had stared at flames as child in the Gap, hoping to take some childlike conception of a flame spirit away with him. Now, in service to the Provider, Lotun hoped that something more of that greatest of divine spirits would accompany him in the jouney to come.
Almost two wakes had passed since Lotun had performed the Rituals of Preparation. He should already have departed, but he tarried in leaving the greenery of Tumnil for the dark rock of the World. Perhaps he was not as old as he felt. Perhaps there was still more to be done in the current cycle of planting, ritual observance and harvest. But no, Lotun had performed the Rituals. He stood in the central fields of Tumnil staring at the Lights, rather than directing acolytes and supplicants in their duties. Lotun's thin legs ached from standing still and the Initiates at the base of the nearest Light pillar were staring.
Lotun bent to pick up his staff, his vision finally returned to him. Touching the engravings, made by an Initiate now long dead, restored Lotun to some of his original determination. Adjusting the leather sling containing his Gift, he turned his back to the Lights and the curious Initiates. With his staff to support him, he began to walk through the knee-high seedgrass. A nearby path would take him to the Lightward edge of Tumnil, the end of the domain of the Provider.
Tumnil 243 was very angry, but tried her best to control herself. Showing anger to an Initiate of the Order was a good way to permanently postpone her own Initiation. A slight young Jentik, she had not quite reached her first full generation. Tumnil 243 had come to Tumnil little more than twenty tenwakes ago. She had stayed, entranced by the mystery and majesty of the Order. Stayed as an acolyte and made many friends, or so she thought.
"Friend Deru," she managed in a controlled voice, "you gave your word to me that I would be given a place in this journey to the High Plateau."
Deru of the Third Circle, a broad man and one of the few Enierd in the Order, frowned. The black Clan tattoo on his brow took on a disturbing shape as he did so. Deru was aware of the acolytes and robed Initiates watching and listening from behind his back. Heavy leather packs lay on the earth path and trodden seedgrass, awaiting their owners' backs. A tall Uk tree cast its shadow over the group.
"As I have already made clear, you are not needed here." Deru spoke with a deep voice. He illustrated the group behind him with a sweep of his powerful arm. "Twenty packs, twenty to carry them. I suggest that you return to the fields where you are needed." Deru executed a short, and somewhat insulting, bow of dismissal.
Tumnil 243 narrowed her lips, divining the real reason for her rejection in the number of tall, pale Susyan who waited behind Deru. Two of the Susyan exchanged glances, but said nothing. The muscular Enierd turned from Tumnil 243 and began to organize his charges.
Tumnil 243 looked at her bare feet and the earth of the path. Acolytes, supplicants and Initiates went about their business. Her anger was fading and turning to disappointment. She would just have to walk the few kloms back to the Hall of Acolytes. She would return her few possessions to the leather-walled dwelling she shared inside the Hall. She was not sure what she would say to Tumnil 146. Poignant farewells were hard to retract.
Lotun coughed politely as the young Jentik appeared ahead of him on the bend of the narrow path. He had been walking through a field of full-grown Wauken's Seedwraps. The leafy green and yellow stems stretched for a span above his head and clustered thickly, obscured vision. The Jentik, clad in leather traveling clothes and carrying a bone-framed pack, apparently did not hear him and kept walking. With her head down, she would have collided with Lotun had he not put out a hand and come to an abrupt halt himself.
"Slow yourself, friend Jentik! At my age, such inadvertant collisions can be hurtful." Lotun thought his voice sounded peevish, one of the privileges of age he tried to deny himself.
The Jentik seemed upset, distracted. She shook her head and bowed deeply. "Oh! I apologize, honored elder…friend honored elder.” She belatedly made the Sign of Respect, her palms pressed together. "My spirit was many kloms from here. I had no intent to cause you injury. Please accept my apologies."
Lotun made the slight Bow to the Unknown in return. There was a short and awkward pause while both waited for the other to speak, or to move aside on the narrow pathway. Lotun sighed, and spoke in a friendlier manner. "My Family has always held that it was auspicious to meet with a Jentik on the first wake of a journey. I am pleased that I had the honor."
"I am two hundred and forty-three." Tumnil 243 pulled a strand of dark hair from her face. "I should have been journeying also this wake, but Deru turned me away. Enierd!" She stubbed at the pressed soil of the path in momentary anger before her face fell once more. She said in a softer tone, "I was to travel to the High Plateau."
Lotun leaned upon his staff and ran a nail along one of the more deeply engraved symbols. He could hear the undercurrent of yearning in the voice of Tumnil 243 when she spoke of the home of her Tribe.
"I know of Deru. He is a friend to the Feller of Trees, but no friend to Jentik, it would seem." Lotun straightened. "My legs ache from standing. Let us walk."
A look of surprise spread across the face of Tumnil 243, and remained there as Lotun edged around her on the path. Seedwrap leaves brushed at his robe and face. "Well? Do you not think you can keep pace with an old Wohken?"
Lotun and Tumnil 243 rested atop a knoll at the darkened edge of Tumnil, shadowed by trees and span-high seedgrass. Lotun sat cross-legged. His staff rested across his knees and the Gift of the Provider lay in his lap. The young Jentik sat on her pack, her arms about her legs and her chin resting on her knees. The Lights of the Provider lay many kloms behind the elder Initiate and the young acolyte, hidden from sight by the nearest woods. Long shadows cast by the tallest, spear-thin Polpas trees stretched towards the point at which the seedgrass ended and the dark rock of the World began. The brighter stars, now visible in the black Sky, descended slowly towards the distant, unseen Great Temple of the One God.
Lotun looked downwards as he performed the last of the Rituals of Preparation. His Gift of the Provider, a small and pitted box of divine material, lay in his lap. He touched the Gift in the Cadence of Water as Tumnil 243 watched closely. After five heartbeats, it sighed.
"It is done," said the elder Initiate. He lifted the Gift in his thin hands and opened it to let water pour onto the seedgrass around him. "What came from the Provider will return to the Provider. Thus I seek His blessing as I leave His domain."
Lotun glanced at Tumnil 243. She had been watching the Ritual intently, oblivious to the beauty of moving stars and long, straight Polpas shadows that pointed to distant rock.
"One wake, it will be me." Her voice was determined and quiet.
"As the Provider wills," replied Lotun, nodding in a kindly fashion. "You know the rituals well. I believe Deru was wrong to refuse you a place." He looked outwards to the few visible stars in the black Sky, half his face in shadow as he returned his Gift to its sling. Tumnil 243 was silent, and the moment extended for many heartbeats.
Without looking away from the Sky, Lotun said "I have walked this path ten times since your birth, and many times again before that. There have been long journeys and half a generation since I walked it with another." He paused for a few breaths and turned to the Jentik acolyte. "But that is no reason to deny you as did Deru. It is tradition." Lotun began to pull himself to his feet, using his carved staff for leverage.
"Honored elder..." began Tumnil 243, but Lotun cut her words short with a wave of his hand.
"Please, friend Jentik. I am no Father, no Amral in my Family. We both serve our God, and my age brings me humility. Lotun is my name, and it will serve for now." He stood looking out upon the expanse of rock that would lead to the communities of the Enierd. "Come. We have a long journey ahead of us."
[ Posted by Reason on December 21, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Seafarers' Needles |
| The Enclave > Lore > Wizardry |
The Magi of the Vanished Isles employed enchanted needles to guide their great ships across the Unending Sea, the needles pointing this way and that as the currents shifted. This lesser wizardry was one of many given to the Datarii in trade in older times, and the stonefolk made good use of it.
In the present day, Seafarers' Needles are enchanted throughout the Enclave to guide wayfarers on dry land. Merchants traveling between Port and other Enclave communities use the wizardry of the needles to avoid the Farthest Roads. Canny Ammander hunters and woodsmen find their way home by following the point of the needle - marks on trees and known paths soon fail as guides in the Farthest Forest.
[ Posted by Reason on December 21, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Tal's Daughter |
| The Enclave > Lore > The Farthest |
"Elbows in all the wrong places," Tal is prone to grumble. His daughter - no Datar, but as skilled as any in stone and metal - came from the Farthest, found wandering the deep halls of Dar's Craft where the Datarii carve Unfinished Works and the border of beyond is close. To hear the older Datar retell the story to all who pause and listen, the Beautiful Stranger herself stepped out of the Farthest Craft to foster this Lost one on Tal.
Tal's Daughter is strange, unlikely in appearance and far from her birthplace. She refuses any name and never learned the gruff tounge of the Datarii. She speaks through stone in the deep halls, and the Datarii of Dar's Craft are fiercely proud of their Visitor.
The oldest stories, those said to come from the Draugh, speak favorably of charity to the Lost. Datarii respect the old wisdom, the craft of storytellers and wise ones long gone. Be kind to the Farthest, kind to the Lost, for one day you may need such kindness yourself.
[ Posted by Reason on December 21, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| Tales of the Farthest |
| The Enclave > Lore > The Farthest |
The Datarii call the place beyond all places "the Farthest." The long-departed Draugh, from whom the Datarii inherited myths, fragments of language and little more, called it by this and many other names.
Every place in the Enclave borders the Farthest, or so the Datarii say. Forest, field, library, inn, temple and open land all lead into the Farthest - endless, increasingly strange extensions of the border that led you there. No wizardry is needed to enter the Farthest, and the most common of folk must exercise care in their daily tasks lest they stray too far from the familiar and lose their way.
White-bearded Ammanders first wrote of the Farthest as the "Quintessential Realms," showing curiosity and understanding beyond that of the Lost Magi of the Vanished Isles. The sages hold that certain thresholds must be reached before the Farthest opens up like a rare flower to Visitor and Trespasser alike. The borders of the Farthest are most tangible in large and intricate buildings, the densest of forests, most frequently tilled fields, the busiest of marketplaces and docks.
To enter the Farthest is to notice folk becoming stranger; it is to become a Visitor in their lands, just as Visitors and Trespassers come from the Farthest into the Enclave. The farther from the familiar, the more different the Farthest becomes - and the more likely a Visitor is to lose their way. Even the near Farthest shifts and changes from day to day.
The Farthest Market is the Market of all Markets, the Quintessential, unending, eternal Market, the Market that, somewhere, contains everything that could possibly exist - as is true for the Farthest Library, the Farthest Inn, the Farthest City, the Farthest Temple, the Farthest Fields and Farthest Forest. Ammander tomes declare that all things may be found in the Quintessential Realms. The Datarii tell grand tales of wizardry won from the deepest Farthest by brave Visitors in dire need - and at great cost.
For all of the tale-telling, the border of the Farthest is often hard to distinguish. The folk are much the same, as is their merchandise. Sometimes it is only that the street leads to a different junction, or the corridor has an extra turn, or the bookshelves do not end where they should. Stray too far, however, and you might come back with whitened hair and strange tales - or not return at all.
[ Posted by Reason on December 21, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
| The Magi Come |
| The Enclave > Seasons Long Past |
Long before their lands and people became Lost, seafaring Magi from the Vanished Isles explored the Enclave shores. In those days, what is now the city of Port began as a mere trading post, a small population of seafarers and native Datarii ebbing and swelling with the turning of seasons and the strange tides of the Unending Sea.
Datarii greatly valued the knowledge of the Magi; in turn, the Magi recognized the potential of raw Datarii stonework. With the passing of years, the trading post became a small town. High-prowed vessels from the Isles plied their way to the Enclave in greater numbers, returning home heavily laden. Datarii halls, deep and shallow, echoed to the sound of strange wizardry. The Datarii prospered.
As has always been way of things on the Unending Sea, the tracery of sailing routes brought the Isles and the Enclave closer. A journey that once required puissant wizardry and the greatest of Magi came within reach of the youngest adepts. In those years long ago, the Magi traded widely across the Unending Sea, and the Sea was made smaller by their wizardry.
For all their knowledge and trade with the Datarii, the Magi never came to fully understand the nature of the Enclave and the Farthest before they became Lost. Visitors and Trespassers from the Farthest were no more or less remarkable to the Magi than dwellers in other lands bordering on the Unending Sea - the seafarers did not explore the Farthest in the same manner as the Datarii and the Draugh before them.
[ Posted by Reason on December 20, 2004 | Permanent Link ]
