Principia Infecta

Spirits of Rock and Sky

In the Name of the World Crafter Spirits of Rock and Sky > In the Name of the World Crafter

The Priest's Hidden World Fragment

My daughter, it has come time to show you a secret of our Sect. This is why we walk far from the tents - misguided followers of the Second Path would slay to gain this secret, and this is no wake for conflict between Sects. The Avatar of the World Crafter approaches high Seusen and ten thousand Devoted Followers run to keep pace with our God. We will all ascend the Three Thousand Steps of honored bone to worship wakes from now, but there must be no violence in this most sacred time.

We will not be seen here. This is the secret, kept for generations in a fine Enierd-crafted box of Estin's Wood, handed down from priest to priest - a World Fragment from the generations of legend. Touch it - close your eyes to the far Lightward Sky and see with your fingertips, as the World Crafter intended. The World was crafted just as bone or wood, and the Fragments were many ... but the rock of the World is not bone, nor is it wood. A Fragment placed on rock will remember its place and come to join with the World. This is but least part of the hidden knowledge recalled by our Sect in honor of the World Crafter.

Long ago, my daughter, the first worshippers followed the Avatar of the World Crafter through the Gap and across Godward Wohken rock to the Realm, and this secret was one of the Fragments they found and held. Held and held, through the Three Great Heresies, through the lesser heresies of the Second Path and through uncounted generations. My daughter, I will be old and forgetful in cycles to come, and you will be a priest of our Sect. When that wake comes, you will keep this secret amongst the many others we hold.

It will be a great gathering in the wakes ahead, and there are too few Servants of the Provider - as there always have been. There will be hunger and thirst in Seusen and much anger at those priests of the Circle of Worship who pretend to authority. When we climb the Three Thousand Steps, when we ascend to the High Ledges above Seusen to be closer to the Avatar, you must help to keep our devoted safe amidst the other Sects.

[ Posted by Reason on June 19, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Words of Beis Musam, Priest of the Circle of Worship

There shall be no more talk of Heresy and Unbelief here this wake! You stand in Seusen, bound by the wise law of the Circle of Worship, bound since your feet left the last of the Three Thousand Steps. This is not the open rock of the Realm, where any priest and petty Sect may claim righteousness. Here, we have followed the teachings of the Circle with loyalty and respect since the generation of the Third Heresy.

No, now! Put down your ax! Shall I call on my fellow priests for a judgement? Before the World Crafter, we are all equal and joined by our faith - put your disagreements aside! Treat one another as Brothers and your kindness will be rewarded when the wake of your Passing arrives. Treat your fellows poorly, and your spirit will be judged by the World Crafter - just as were the the Followers of the First Path so long ago, trodden into the rock of the World and Passed to the darkness of the Underworld!

[ Posted by Reason on July 3, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

How the God-King Came to the Realm of the World Crafter

This I speak as truth, for it is inked on ancient leather beneath the dome of the Hall of the Circle in Seusen. This I speak: that the God-King came before the first Circle of Worship weighed by respect for the World Crafter. No such respect had He for the false priests of Light and Sky. He who was to rule the Tribes came to the priests of the World Crafter, came with gifts of divine material, wood, and pledges of Father and Lord - yet the hearts of the Circle were troubled and filled with great doubt.

So it was that from the first Circle of Worship, the God-King went forth across the open rock, forth to the Avatar. So it was that He spoke to our God on the rock of the Realm, for the World Crafter halted in Its journey and bowed to listen to the words of the God-King. All of the Realm were awed, and priests of every Sect came to kneel before the God-King and hear His divine wisdom.

Thence the God-King departed as He came, but weighed by the loyalty of the Realm.

[ Posted by Reason on July 3, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

To Tahadu's Dwelling

Oheh! We gather to be pilgrims once more. We have followed the priest Meten Teni in the journey of the Long Ridge to Seusen. We have climbed the Three Thousand Steps of Bone and spoken the prayers of the Circle of Worship at each Step of Honored Skulls. We have come far, yet still we are filled with the faith of the World Crafter!

Oheh! We journey to pay the respects of our Sect to the spirit of Tahadu the Sectless, Tahadu who worshipped the World Crafter alone. Towards the edge of the World and high mountains we will go, and so we gather to trade for lined and layered leather. Here we await a Servant of the Provider who will walk our path, and strong warriors to guard us from the heresies of Devoted Followers.

Oheh! High we will travel, high into the dark, cold mountains that look upon the World Beyond, where frost touches rock and the high air howls. There we will bow to priests of the Hierarchy of Mysteries and look upon the spirits of the Sky untouched by the Light of the false God. We will find Tahadu's Cavern and within will stand the wood of her dwelling, empty these long generations since the time of the God-King.

[ Posted by Reason on July 14, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

On the Judgements of the World Crafter

Neither priest nor any other may Judge, and to claim otherwise is to travel the Pathway of Heresy! Only Gods, possessed of Divine Will and knowledge, can truly Judge those who dwell in the World. Only the World Crafter has shown Himself willing to issue Judgement - only the World Crafter honors those who dwell upon the work of his Divine Will. Gods of Sky and Underworld, Gods who refuse to Judge, are weak or false, unworthy of worship!

I have been Judged priest of our Sect by the Divine Will of the World Crafter; I have stood before our God a generation past and bared my heart, bared my very spirit! Those who stood with me were Judged and found false, their spirits snuffed as unwanted flames by His passing. In the name of the World Crafter, hear my words, for they are Judged true and wise!

[ Posted by Reason on July 21, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Inked by Scholars and Scribes Spirits of Rock and Sky > Inked by Scholars and Scribes

Utan Ori Tutors the Utan Family Children

The Map Makers of the Order of the Provider tell us that the World is two thousand kloms in breadth. The Brotherhood of Knowledge have their maps too, tens upon tens, inked on the leather of our ancestors. Here the great Gap, here the Realm of the World Crafter, here the territory of our Families, our Tribe.

In our community, the air moves gently and constantly towards the World Beyond, comforting in its predictability, neh? In cycles to come, our spirits will ride the high air to the World Beyond, there to see our ancestors. Our skulls will stand in our Family shrine alongside our Fathers' Fathers' Fathers. Feel the high Pathway of the ancestral spirits in the moving air, see the Light of the One God in the far Sky and you can never be far lost. Learn the routes well, follow the old shrines and markers and you will not need the divine bounty of the One God! But journey to see the Itmost gathered about the Great Bones of the Dead God - there, the air is warm and moves back and forth, hither and thither.

At the edges of the World, air moves too fast to breath and hoarfrost coats the rock. The cold paths to the World Beyond are far from this dwelling, far across the empty rock plains and harsh hills, but I have seen them with my own eyes. Indeed, I wandered far with the Cru before returning to our Family and the Wayhouse of our community. You would wish more comfortable lives than mine, crafting with the Brotherhoods, wooing the young of the Meten Family, neh?

[ Posted by Reason on March 23, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

On the Kalmet, Scribed by Nasah of the Recorder Sect

There seems to be no pattern to their wandering. I have witnessed two Kalmet surprised by a chance meeting with one another. It seems they have no leaders nor politics. Their meetings are rare, infrequent, and secretive. Kalmet offer no challenge to the established order and present me with nothing but further mysteries. I cannot guess at the qualities that the Kalmet desire. Those who seek out the Kalmet are as likely to become acolytes as not. Acolytes are taught, for tens of cycles, what I now believe to be meaningless and obscuring skills.

Ask any Kalmet to tell you the length or height or weight of an object. He or she will do so exactly, without having to touch, weigh, or guess. Once, many tens of cycles ago, I asked the Kalmet Anik for the weight of the hill we stood atop. After a number of heartbeats, he replied with a very large number. I do not know whether he spoke in jest. Kalmet do not forget. I conversed with the Kalmet Anik a mere cycle past, and he recalled exactly the words we exchanged atop the hill near Hotal.

I have heard it said that the Stronmars have use for the Kalmet. Among the secret records of that Sect, those not shared with even the highest ranks of Recorders, nor yet with the Conclave, the efforts of one Kalmet are worth those of a hundred acolytes.

I have discovered the fragment of an old tale in the Tower of Lesser Records. I will set forth what little of the faded inkwork I can decipher: "The God-King spoke with wroth, and would have known to Him the number of His subjects. Yet still, they were so great in number that none could count them. But thence the last councillor, wiser than the others, brought the oldest Kalmet before the God-King. The Kalmet spoke a great number, and the God-King was satisfied. He offered many bodies of wood in reward, but the oldest Kalmet refused."

I am humbled to find a text paraphrasing my own, copied from long crumbled leather, first written during the early Pathway Wars. The Kalmet cannot have changed since that time.

[ Posted by Reason on March 23, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Words of Eruse, Told to the Divine Susyan

You say that history is as water flowing from a Gift of the Provider - unbroken and smooth. Your brother tells us that history is as the dwellings in a community; discrete events and separate people. I say that neither of you are right. History is this: old words and aging scrolls. Give me your ears and eyes, give me ink and leather, and I will give you any history you desire. But the truth of it ... ah, now there is the question.

[ Posted by Reason on March 24, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Heretic Stronmar and the Words of the God-King

Dried and faded near to uselessness, not hidden but placed amidst the most common of records, I found the Transcribed Words of Meten Ulaar. Said he, "I, Meten Ulaar of the Recorders, state here that these are the thoughts of the God-King, transcribed from fragments collected in the farthest archives. Others of the Sect laugh at my convictions and words, but they shall yet eat theirs."

Beneath the broken seal of ancient Estin's Wood were the Words of the God-King, inked in finest Midrin Expressive on leather once most carefully prepared. This I have copied as best I am able in the quiet times of observance, far from the Great Temple:

Home is so far away. It will always be hard for me to accept that everything I knew is now gone, dust in the winds of time. As time passes and I age, even the tranquillity of Tumnil's woods do little to ease my mood. I had thought to achieve so much! By the standards of my youth, I have attained all I could desire. But, sweet irony, will I ever come to escape this rock? Whatever knowledge brought me here is clearly lost. I, cursed like most of my old friends, could not even build the tools I used in every waking moment of my life.

I force myself to write in this debased script for readers I will never meet. A hundred times I stop, desiring to ink a word that is unknown here. Time, objects, places, memories, and so much else…all lost. When I started to dream in Kinis, I knew I would eventually forget everything that was once important to me.

Why am I taking brush to leather? Will anyone ever come to read the words that I hide so well, I wonder? To you, my reader, know that there is much I cannot say aloud. I am a God to the Tribes, a worker of the divine, ruler of this small world. My voice inspires awe and dread, my every imagined wish sends a hundred servants scurrying. Armies form at my command and warriors die for my name. In this way I am trapped; I must live this lie I have built about myself. Oh if you only knew! There are secrets I must tell, a world I must explain to those who live their lives on barren rock and believe in Gods.

I have come to fear that I may die here. With my passing, my lies become your truth, further damning you all.

To you, my reader, I tell you to imagine Tumnil. But imagine Tumnil ten thousand times over, trees and seedgrass stretching as far as the eye can see. A single warming Light shines from on high. The Sky itself is the same shade of blue as flames in your communities. Imagine the fields of Tumnil and great dwellings many times the size of the Halls there. Imagine them stretched about the surface of a great sphere, a hundred times the span of the World from Great Temple to World Crafter. The sphere circles with other spheres in an endless void of stars, full of life. Ah, the towering communities of my home! It is you who should weep, never having witnessed the realm from which I was rudely taken. But only I can appreciate the loss, and only I shall shed tears. I cry for an entire world.

As you read my words, recall my life. I am the God-King. I rule the World. My word is Law, but I cannot have what I ultimately desire. My descendants, your ancestors, must truly have been Gods to come here and fashion this rock. They were closer to the divine than my own ancestors, I fear. The question that tears at me for wake after wake is "why?" If they could do this, why did they do this here? Why did they do it this way? What went so tragically wrong for these Gods you now worship? So much must have taken place, so much transpired while I slept the cold sleep.

So said the God-King. There was far more, once, but like so much of history, the leather has dried, cracked and crumbled, the ink faded.

"Spheres in an endless void." The phrase haunts me as would some dark spirit. I wholly believe that these are the words of the God-King, and yet why should He write these fantasies? The God-King must have known much and His words feel more than true to me. Yet they cannot be.

The philosopher Tsen spoke much of cosmology in times before the ascendance of the God-King, but her great works say nothing of spheres. Would not everything fall from the underside? What was He trying to illustrate? From the words of Tsen, "the world is an imperfect plane under the perfect dome of the Sky. We, the imperfect, can only dwell here. The perfect Gods dwell above us." Of course, Tsen was of the Divine Susyan and accepted no Gods beyond those of the Sky. She did not believe in the Gods of the World Beyond. She held that it is our "imperfect nature" that prevents us from journeying beyond the hoarfrost and thin air at the edges of the world. The works of Tsen also make no mention of the Underworld below the World. Others have, believing it to extend beyond measure below our feet.

What lies beyond the Sky? The God-King would have us believe in many worlds, as bubbles in heated water. Fantasy! Yet it gnaws at me.

What of an entire world of trees and seedgrass? What of Tumnil a thousand kloms across, painful Lights and green Divine That Grows? It staggers my mind to think of it, so much of the divine in the World! It would be an upset of the natural order and harmony of a thousand kloms of rock, scarp and chasm. Where then would we see beauty in the Light of the One God reflected from the substance of the World? Could this have been the design of the God-King? Did He desire to bring the Order of the Provider to such ascendance in the world that all became Tumnil? What need for the Light of the One God then, I wonder? But such heresy could never come about. The Provider is a weak God, if He is a God at all. The One God is the Divine Will of the world, ascendant over all.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Camnel Une Mefesa Inks Words of Tumnil

I have heard the words each time I have come to this great, most divine place: "This shall be the Law of the Order, so listen well as I speak. There shall be no conflict, no theft and no violence upon the territory sacred to the Provider. The Words of the Order are as the Words of a God. Respect them and you shall prosper. It is forbidden for you to remain beyond the third cycle hence." The acolyte who conducted the Ritual of Welcome found my Brothers and I where Tumnil meets the World, shadows and open rock behind, seedgrass, trees and the haze of divine color ahead.

I have been in Tumnil for long wakes now, enough for my eyes to adjust to the bright and warming Lights of the Provider. So strange and divine are my surroundings that, even forwarned and experienced, I believe I will never become used to it. Each new journey to this, the center of the World, seems like the first. Yet the robed Initiates seem comfortable here, as do their acolytes. Authority comes naturally to the Servants of the Provider; it does not seem strange to take their orders in the fields or amongst the Supplicants' Shelters - even for one of my Rank in the Brotherhood.

The softness of the soil underfoot still troubles me; the Unranked and Lutnens of the Brotherhood complain of sore ankles and stretched muscles. My aches of age are a greater burden, but I have long passed the cycles in which I can work as a Supplicant; thus I remain silent. Let the Sons and Daughters of Families complain while they can yet run the open rock and trade their strength as Supplicants for wood and inkberries.

Fragments and dust from soil and the Divine That Grows cling to fingers and clothes; Supplicants' eyes are red from rubbing. But still - Tumnil! We wake and sleep within the Realm of a God, the Divine pressed close to us with each heartbeat. The Divine That Grows is everywhere; trees, bushes, seedgrass and a hundred other signs of the divinity of the Provider. To touch even the smallest leaf is to touch a divine creation and be reminded once again that this is truly the home of a God.

The colors are unforgettable. The Lights of the Provider give everything that I own and wear new shades and hues; I watch the Unranked turn our their leather packs in wonder when they wake or return from the work of Supplicants in the fields. All that is familiar - wood, leather, bone, flesh, the shape of faces and hair - is different here. The Divine Will of the Provider reaches out to touch everything in His Realm.

[ Posted by Reason on March 26, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Ten Negui Tells of the Staff of Wrath

This is the legend of the Staff, as it was told to me by Irin Tonjen, respected Amral in the Brotherhood of the Path of Scribes, in the last cycles before he Passed to be with the ancestors. In turn, it is time for me to tell this legend - remember it well, for old, dark spirits wish us to recall.

Toorn ruled in ancient generations, long before the coming of the God-King, long before the Cult of the One God. The Tribes were closer to the Gods in those cycles, and Toorn was closest of all.

In his thirst for power, Toorn climbed the greatest mountain peaks to touch the Sky and strode Beyond the World to provoke Divine Wrath. The Gods became Wrathful indeed, yet cunning Toorn was not destroyed. He took the Wrath of Gods as though it were bone and wood, crafting It into a mighty Staff.

Fathers of the Wokhen and Lords of the Susyan feared for the World when one man earned the anger of Gods. The rule of Toorn grew, and so it came to pass that the warriors of the Tribes assembled and gave a great challenge. They were met with the Wrath of Gods and slain, given the fate rightfully due Toorn.

Beneath the sight of Wrathful Gods, ten thousand warriors Passed at the hands of Toorn. Yet Toorn was vanquished, for not even Divine Wrath may let one man stand against the Tribes. The Staff was taken by the Lightward priests to be hidden deep within their God, far from those who would bring Divine Wrath upon the Tribes.

[ Posted by Reason on June 20, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Entering the Hall of Acolytes, From the Recollections of Aruun

Passing through the mighty entry of Divine Will taken material form, passing from seedgrass and the brightest Lights of the Provider into darkness lit by flames of blue, I might have stepped from Tumnil to the farthest Godward community of the World in ten heartbeats. Familiar dwellings stood about me, the roof of this great and Divine hall so dark and far above it might be the Sky.

The dwellings rose up the very walls, as shelves in a hall of wood, crafted by the Tribes. It was as communities within the Great Temple, the Avatar of the One God, and no less wonderous - ancient wood and leather built upon platforms and levels, fading into darkness away from the flame-lights. The acolytes welcomed me, and Meten Asai of the Map Makers beckoned me to the Hall of Ritual, built of wood and bone within the Divine Hall of Acolytes, mighty creation of the Will of the Provider.

[ Posted by Reason on July 4, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

From the Fragments of Tsen's Questions

History has been long in its path from Void to World to World Beyond, a Pathway traveled as the Passed travel the high air to the Ancestral Sky Spirits. We are imperfect; we have forgotten much. Just as the elder crafter falters, her next breath, her skill and the movement of her hands gone from her heart, so too do scrolls, libraries and even tales themselves falter. Can forgotten generations be said to have happened at all? We are certain of our existence, but cannot guarantee memory in cycles to come.

[ Posted by Reason on July 16, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Itmos and the Unwalked Way Spirits of Rock and Sky > Itmos and the Unwalked Way

Te Meri Retells the Dying God's Dream

Nuri dreamed the Great Dream; her spirit passed into the World Beyond, traversing the Unwalked Way for the first time. She told of her visions on her return from the realm of Gods and great spirits, and thus it came to pass that five tens of her Hundred set forth into the World to seek out the bones of the Dying God.

It was Feisa, daughter of Huseva, who was daughter of Tomorik of the Hundred, who discovered the far Bones we are charged to protect. Yet in her time, short generations after the time of Nuri, the Dying God had Passed. Passed, yes, but still breathing warmth into the World.

We recall Feisa in the name of our community, in the duties of Families and Worshippers beneath the spreading Bones of the Dead God. You may fight with other Families, argue with your Family, even disrespect your Family Head, but the Bones are a trust to our Tribe; no-one may argue with that.

[ Posted by Reason on March 24, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Gossip of Dem Breesa

It happened that the Jonor were leaving after only a handful of wakes as our Worshippers - but anyone who knew old Ede Jonor would recall her restless feet. Timar, Gesin, and Masari all inherited something of that from their mother, although Gesin Jonor wasted her gift in partnering with that Meten boy.

Where was I? Yes, but who should come striding into Feisa, just as the Jonor Family were preparing to depart, but the Wesa! Yes, I see your expressions, and I assure you that they were just as bad when Tani Wesa was still in the World. She had a way of looking at you to make your blood stand still, and her poor children! Ah! But you don't want to hear me tell of the Wesa Family partnerships; another time, another time.

I digress. The Wesa strode into Feisa and immediately demanded to be appointed as Worshippers of the community! Bold as priests they were, bursting with pride in their lineage and ten times as insufferable. Ah! But I could tell you a thing or two about certain partnerships with the Besi and the Tren...

Patience! What could Ede Jonor say? She shrugged - just like this, as she always did - and agreed. Oh, but why would she want to suffer the company of the Wesa Family through any argument? Would you? So away Tani Wesa went, back to her inked, layered, hair-lined tent to sleep. But what happened next? The Jonor quickly chose the Umai as the new Worshippers of Feisa and up and left, all while the Wesa Family slept! Tani Wesa awoke to find the Hall of Worshippers occupied by Mam Umai's Family and the Jonor gone. Believe me when I tell you that none of my Family had ever heard a rage like it!

[ Posted by Reason on March 30, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Measured and Found Wanting

Thirty fingerbones of Uk wood for our fine tools? And that is all? Did you fall on your head this wake? Do you sleep still? The Susyan were to have bodies of Uk wood from their cycle as supplicants! Full bodies, not skulls nor fingerbones! I saw with my own eyes four of their Oathbound carrying thick Uk limbs, bark and leaf, a full span in length and three hands broad! Am I to suppose that you enjoy humiliating me like this in front of our Family? Do I journey to Tumnil to be insulted like this by my very own partner?

Any of the Dispossessed would have given ten wakes of service for a single awl or firebow, but no, you will not trade with outcasts! Now I must hear that Ten Misen took their service and has traded it to Crafter priests for Polpar needles, inkberries and Estin's blossom. The Misen Family boasts amidst the Supplicants' Shelters, and I cannot even talk of my partner and his thirty fingerbones of Uk wood! Who is the fool in this inkwork? Who?

[ Posted by Reason on June 23, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Rual Tei Speaks Of the Flattened Mountain

Hear me as I tell of our ancestors, for soon we set forth for the Realm and the Flattened Mountain.

Long and many generations ago it was when our Family was first named. Though they traveled all of the Realm, the children of Tei, daughter of Mese, who was daughter of Gretai of the Hundred, could find no fit place to dwell. Exhausted, the Family set their tents in the shadow of the great lone peak at the very Lightward extent of the Realm, far from the Great Bones that are the sacred trust of all Families of our Tribe.

The elder priest Esen Tei stood and beseeched the World Crafter to show them their home. Long he spoke in the name of the Dead God, and the World Crafter heard. The God Who Crafts stretched forth His Divine Will and flattened the great mountain as though it were a wood chip beneath the mallet.

Atop the Flattened Mountain then, our ancestors set their tents, as will we in the wakes ahead. This is why our Family travels from the Great Bones to to the dark, Godward Realm - for we must honor the World Crafter and our ancestors in the times of Still Sky.

[ Posted by Reason on July 19, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Talking of Susyan Spirits of Rock and Sky > Itmos and the Unwalked Way > Talking of Susyan

The Adin Family Posts

Neh! They laze and argue amidst their walking wheels and ill-kept tents, and not the time to teach their children! Listen to this boy, Rei, he does not know of Adin and the Susyan, have you heard of such a thing? Well sit, boy, sit! Drink of our fresh water, for Servants of the Provider stood with us but last wake - I doubt your Family had the thought to do other than take from the community supplies.

Look now, see, there beside the Hall of Worshippers, the second of Adin's Posts. Walk and look at them all in your wakes in Feisa - that is the art of the Susyan, Formal Representative, stiff as a proud warrior and twice as complex. Tun abstracts and poetry too, if you can read Midrin expressive. Take themselves seriously, do the Susyan, with their Lords and Councils - no less so when they set themselves to crafting.

Well, and how, neh? Time was that the daughters of Adin, daughter of Dohan, set forth from their duty as Worshippers of the Great Bones of the Dead God at Teis, set forth to make a great wager with the Susyan of Nekopis. At stake were the Posts, the pride of the Lord of Nekopis and support for the great roof of his Hall. Won the Posts did the Adin Family and carried them far and wide - for the pride of Susyan is worthy of such great mockery. But the Family tired of their weight soon enough, and so the Posts stand here in Feisa beneath the greatest of the Great Bones. All this many generations ago, boy. The Adin Family Posts are cracked and dry, like shrines to the God-King hidden on open rock in far Wohken territory.

Nine in all there are, though once there were ten - as would be proper. The tenth Post stands once more amidst the Halls of Nekopis, and there is a tale to be told of the last of the Adin Family and her wager with Divine Susyan from the Katar.

[ Posted by Reason on June 17, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Law and Ritual of the Dispossessed Spirits of Rock and Sky > Law and Ritual of the Dispossessed

Inked by the Thirty-Ninth Congress of Lawmakers

In this, the Thirty-Ninth Congress of Lawmakers, we set before our people, those of the worthy communities above the Great Scarp, the Tribal Laws that our deliberations have brought forth. The rulings and Laws made by the Lawmakers of this Congress shall be subject to the scrutiny of their peers and crafted with the support of the Tribe.

That most ancient and cherished of all Laws shall once more remain unchanged. In the words of Erias: "Let not one among us take away the faith, ceremony, or freedom of another for fear of difference. Let not one among us forcibly and falsely impose upon another. For have we not all fought side by side?" May his words guide our descendants as they have guided us.

Duseet's Clarification: the people of our Tribe shall be free to worship as they please, even should their Gods be detested and false. They may descend into the Underworld and worship there should they so desire! For to rule otherwise would be to betray the spirit and intent of Erias. Let them be punished for their worship only if they break the Laws of Tribe or Community, but otherwise not at all.

Any agreement between any number of Dispossessed, set out in ink and approved by a Lawmaker, shall be considered binding in the manner of a Law. Such agreements may last for as long as is outlined within the record, or until death. Punishments for a breach of agreement may be allotted within an agreement, or as decreed by a Lawmaker.

No Dispossessed life shall be taken and nor shall injury be caused to any Dispossessed unless death or injury are punishment allowed by the Laws and rightfully allotted by a Lawmaker.

No possession shall be taken or claimed when it belongs to another. If ownership is in doubt, the possession should return to the crafter or the inhabitant of the dwelling from which it came.

To refuse to carry out, or to elude in part or in whole, a punishment given by a Lawmaker shall, in and of itself, be an unlawful action. To speak anything but the truth before a Lawmaker, or to falsely accuse another of breaking a Law shall, in and of itself, be an unlawful action.

Hais' Clarification: when those who break Laws are brought before a Lawmaker, the burden of proof will rest upon those injured or inconvenienced by the lawbreakers. It is the responsibility of the Lawmaker to seek the truth.

Jariad's Clarification: an ignorance of Community Laws shall absolve a lawbreaker of any blame. It is commanded by this, the Thirty-Ninth Congress, that Lawmakers make every reasonable effort to set their Laws before those who arrive in their communities.

Oran Medi's Amendment: from this, the Thirty-Ninth Congress, onwards, travelers in our territory are to be viewed and judged by the Laws of Tribe and Community as thought they were Dispossessed.

Let us now scribe the punishments allowable under the wise Laws of the Tribe.

[ Posted by Reason on March 24, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Amere Speaks of the Rings of the God-King

So it is and so it was; seven rings of divine material were given to the most trusted advisors of the God-King early in the generation of His Rise. Of those, only two remain - the others burned to nothing or lost to the passing cycles. Who holds these gifts from the past? We do, the Born Dispossessed, kept in trust by our Lawmakers for the entire Tribe. One ring was worn by Unborn Erias, the first and greatest of us, in the time of Claiming. The other was brought to the Tribe by Lawmaker Noi himself.

I have seen them, just as you could see them, neh? Travel to the Hall of Congress in Noi and speak to the Lawmaker of the community. You will not be turned away; that is not the way above the Scarp.

Dented and worn like old wood, they are, yet yellow as wood-flame and perfect to the eye. Great as He was, the God-King was not the equal of the World Crafter and the One God. His divine creations have faded in the generations since His Ascension to the Sky.

[ Posted by Reason on April 1, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Kesia of the Twice Born Speaks of the Claiming

The cast out and banished of the Tribes had long huddled beneath the Great Scarp, raided by Wohken and Susyan, scorned by Enierd and Frost Gatherer. Yet those Dispossessed came to be many as the generations passed, and sparks of pride still moved amongst the exiles. In time, one spark came to light the fires that would climb the Scarp and Claim the territory of Frost Gatherers; his name was Erias, and we honor him yet.

Erias, Susyan Lord and Oathbreaker, came among the Dispossessed in the generation of my grandfather's grandfather - his great spirit brought the communities beneath the Great Scarp together as one. Bold and angry, he confronted those afraid of traveling the Pathway of their lives once more, exhorted those who had forgotten respect. The outcast and the exiled recalled pride and purpose, found club, ax and armor, and rose up behind the Oathbreaker Erias. A great cry ascended from the Scarp and carried on the high air to the far, dark rock of the World. Dispossessed journeyed from far to this high corner of the World, amongst them the Nine Heroes who would stand with Erias in battle. So it was that the flames of our Tribe fanned high in the cold, high air. So it was that the Claiming began.

Erias, the greatest hero of all, did not live to see the first communities of our Tribe, did not live to see Lawmakers and Law. In the last battle of the Claiming, before the eyes of the Nine, his spirit Passed to the Sky. The Lawmakers teach us that his bones and his armor rest high on the lone mountain above the valley of the End of Claiming. His spirit has not returned to the World, but watches over all Dispossessed from the Sky.

With the Passing of Erias, the Nine separated; each led their followers to build one of the first communities of the new Tribe. Look about you, to the head of this great valley - not six generations past, the hero who would would become the Lawmaker Matai stood on high rock above the valley then empty. A thousand Dispossessed stood with him while the high air rushed to the Gate of Gods. Look about you at what we, the Born and Twice Born, have crafted in the cycles since!

[ Posted by Reason on July 5, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Lawmaker Desus Tells of the Congress of Change

As our wise Law requires, I set aside my duties as Lawmaker to teach truth and knowledge to the Born this wake. Listen, and I will tell of the Congress of Change, the first Congress of Lawmakers in the generation of my grandmother's birth.

Long past, in the beginning of our Tribe, there was peace following the Claiming and the sacrifice of Erias. In the chill and quiet of this rock above the Great Scarp, the first of us built communities; none save Servants of the Provider and the Unborn - newly outcast or banished - climbed the Scarp to the high rock in those cycles.

Our Tribe grew, yet too many of the Unborn refused our Laws and the wisdom of Lawmakers. Communities - even our great halls, or so it is said - became dangerous; the Unborn even set their tents on open rock, ungoverned by Law and Lawmaker. Their ancestors had not fought, had not pledged to Erias, yet were they not still Dispossessed?

It was in these cycles four generations ago, when Unborn threatened Born, that the Congress of Change was called. Lawmakers of the Congress decreed that the Unborn were to be sent from our territory above the Great Scarp, for they brought shame to the watching spirits of Erias and the Nine. The Unborn did not go in peace, and blood fell once more on the high rock of our Tribe.

This also the Congress of Change gave us: the Laws of Second Birth, for the exiled and outcast Unborn are as our ancestors. We have turned away old, bad traditions, but we do not forsake the Unborn. So it is that Unborn can become Twice Birthed in the eyes of a Lawmaker, and so it is that the Scarp still marks the boundary of our Tribe - Born above, Unborn below.

[ Posted by Reason on July 12, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Oaths and Myths of the Susyan Spirits of Rock and Sky > Oaths and Myths of the Susyan

Feu's Life of Auritar

It was love of poetry that was to be the death of Auritar; his skill as a warrior was too great for Passage in battle. In the last exhausted cycles of the great and bloody Pathway War, Auritar traveled alone to present the greatest trophy to his father. Such was the custom of the times and warriors traveled as did he after each new battle, each new raid.

On the empty rock, mere wakes from his father's dwelling, Auritar met with the figure that would be his death. They spoke of ancient poetry and the beauty of words. They spoke too long, for the figure was none other than the Lord of Keepers, come down from the Fortress of the Eye in those cycles of blood and sorrow. Auritar felt death creeping upon him, realizing too late with whom he spoke. With his last breath, he found strength to slay the Lord before falling to the rock at his feet, Passing to reach for the Ancestral Sky Spirits.

Thus it was that the poetry of Auritar was heard no more in the communities of the Tribe.

[ Posted by Reason on March 22, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

On the Katar, from the Later Scrolls of the Ancestral Sky Spirits

It came to pass that some among the Tribe forgot our unity, forgot honor, forgot Law, and fell into bickering and infighting. The Ancestral Sky Spirits, our great ancestors, saw all from the Sky and were greatly angered with their descendants. The mightiest of Them wrested free a handful of the Sky and hurled it down to the World.

The Sky Fragment, burning with divine wrath, cut a fiery line through the Light of the One God. In the violence of falling, the Fragment pushed the very rock of the World away in ridges and flames to scorch and cover those who offended our greatest ancestors. All the World shuddered as the Katar was birthed in divine heat.

The great central Katar peak remains a permanent reminder of our powerful Gods. The spirits of our disloyal ancestors haunt the Underworld yet, trapped and locked away from Passage to the Sky and World Beyond as punishment for their misdeeds.

[ Posted by Reason on March 22, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Gean Speaks Candidly to an Initiate

They give you grudging understanding, Wohken, because you are an Initiate of the Order of the Provider, because the Lights of your God cast shadows on the open rock here beyond Tumnil, because I have traveled farther and longer and am known to their Lord. You in turn must understand that you have given offense to these Oathbound, to my traveling companions.

You have heard the tale of Tur and the Lord, perhaps? To give gifts is a responsibility in our Lightward communities, for great offense comes with a gift given in expectation.

Once it was that the Lord of Nadear wished something from Tur of the Divine. What is not said, and it is not important. Tur declined once, declined twice, for we are neither Wohken nor priests to be ordered here and there by those who bear great titles. The second asking was an insult, you must understand, but a Lord is a Lord and worthy of some respect regardless of his merits. Thus rebuffed, the Lord of Nedear brought six long ropes and twenty skulls of wood to the doorway of Tur of the Divine. For that great warrior, this false gift was too great a slur. He slew the Lord there and then with one deep spear-thrust, before demanding that the life-weighted rope and wood be taken from his sight.

There, and I have said what must be said.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Laniah Tells of the Tsuroji

Foolish Itmos scare themselves with tales of Tsuorji - dry and old as ancestral bone on the open rock, they say. Childrens' stories from those who do not honor the ways of past generations, nonsense that tells of Tall Ones who trapped spirits in dark and shadow.

The Tsuroji Passed from the World to the Sky in the generations of legend, and so it is that chattering Itmos spread their foolishness amongst themselves and to the Wohken. Yet our oldest scrolls and the poetry of the Divine tell truth, and that is of greater import than any voice from beyond the Oathbound.

This, I teach: the Tsuroji were long, thin, wise and close to the Gods. They lay motionless in contemplation from birth to death, for to move was not their way. Each spirit in the Sky spoke to them as it passed above the World, and the Tall Ones knew more than even the Jentik in those times. The Susyan of legend gave respect and lent the strength of their arms, as was right and proper. But our ancestors turned from the Ancestral Sky Spirits and fought among themselves - faced with such selfishness, the Tall Ones sadly Passed from the World, no more to guide and advise our Tribe.

Remember this as you honor your Oaths. Remember this as you must choose what is right and proper with each new wake.

[ Posted by Reason on June 10, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Advice From Tasen of the Nekopis Wayhouse

Listen, warriors of Lord Merar, for I speak the simple wisdom of the Godward Cru. Listen and use my words as you will, for you are young and hot of blood and I am near to Passing.

Never raise your weapons if blood need not be shed. Threats, promises and compromise can carry you to the next wake - why risk more? The Ancestral Sky Spirits will not look poorly on you if you demonstrate strength of will over the prowess of club and ax. Both are marks of the true Susyan warrior.

Spare your enemies, whether or not they fight for honor, Oath or community. Would you murder to prove yourself Susyan, to prove yourself true to Lord Merar of this great community? Only those lost to wisdom fight to the death, and they are few and feared for their ways. Those who raise weapons against you are warriors, even if only for heartbeats. Respect their will, and show your own through mercy.

Be cautious and hold back your arm for each new enemy in raid or battle. You are unlikely to meet your equal. To spare the lesser and yield before the greater is the way of the wise warrior. Never face many enemies alone, for you will not be long for the World if you do.

Be wary of bow and throwing spear, for they are the threat that is the death of warriors. Never charge an enemy so armed, for they will be forced to use their threat. There is no dishonor in shying from bolas and arrows - a warrior who stands will be captured or Pass from the World for no gain.

Talking need not cease when bone and wood clash. You must learn the ways of speech and honesty between blows, for this is the rope that binds the skill of the greatest warrior. Triumph can come through convincing words and knowledge of the spirit of your enemy rather than strong blows and prowess. Surrender in the heat of battle lies in showing the honest heart to your enemy - and in the foresight to place a ransom of wood and flax in the hands of your Oathbound companions. The dead pass to the World Beyond to meet with the Ancestral Sky Spirits, while the living may fight again in wakes to come.

[ Posted by Reason on June 13, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Last Pathway War

I will set my spear down for the last time this wake, this I swear before the One God and the Ancestral Sky Spirits. My child is dead and the Oathbound I held most close are gone to the Sky, slain by the warrior Brotherhoods. To have suffered the Darkness was enough - why did the Gods allow this war? I am a woman made elder before my time.

This, I recall: in the midst of the Darkness, my Rite of the Warrior brought this spear of fine Uk wood to my hands. But it was nothing amidst the madness - the Halls and shrines burned along the Great Pathway and priests of the Dead God crossed the open rock to call the fearful to their side. No more than a cycle it was before I and my Oathbound come to the site of a great battle. I recall as though it were this very wake - for we feared those cycles would never end, and such fear marks the spirit deeply. The dead and their weapons lay all about us in the dark; no-one moved on that silent Pathway of bodies. The Darkness ended as the One God returned His Light to the World, but our spirits yet suffered. Perhaps that is why it came to this, to war between the Tribes.

The Pathway of the dead has not left me, for it has returned to me twice more. Of the second, I can speak - I stood alone amidst the bodies on the Pathway below the Halls of Nekopis, alone just as ten thousand others were alone. When the anger of battle and lust of vengence leave the heart, all that remains is blood and remorse. The blood on my hands and sorrow within my heart will follow me all my life and then to the Sky. The ten thousand who stood beneath the Halls of Nekopis could war no more, Wohken and Susyan, Brotherhood and Oathbound, Fathers and Lords. The Daughter of the Ancestral Sky Spirits, she who called for this great war against the Wohken, lay slain beneath the Ten Amrals of the Bone Ax Brotherhood.

Too many have Passed and too much is laid to waste, gone to dust and splinters. The One God should look away from the World once more, for we are not worthy of His gifts. The Lords of the Four Councils hurry to make peace with the Elder Fathers, but this is my Oath - that I set my spear down for the last time this wake.

[ Posted by Reason on June 14, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Met on the Path To Lasuten

Well it is we met this wake, you must sit with us atop the stairway and tell us what passes in Lasuten. We come from far Lightward Meraris over rough rock and open this past cycle - others of your order speak in the Wayhouses of Underdwellers and battles before the Wall of Lasuten and beneath the Guide Flame. Is this true? Is the Mouth of the Underworld once again active?

Master Sunten of the Meraris Wayhouse taught me well in my first generation. I recall his tales of the Last Pathway War with the Wohken, of the burning of Lasuten, all but the Library, of the fall of the Lord of Meraris alongside the Divine, atop the Hill of the Ten where the Guide Flame now burns. The Lord took up wooden club and bone ax for Lasuten in those cycles, as we do now. Our armor is as our spirits! Our Oathbound will not raid Wohken and Enierd while Glowing Ones come forth from the Underworld!

I have heard that others come from Lightward, to prove their worth and aid the Godward - for you have forgotten the true warrior ways and live under Councils, trade with Wohken, partner with Itmos. Even your children pass into adulthood without a full Rite of the Warrior! The warriors of your communities are not as ours. Yet you are of the Tribe and we are all children of the Ancestral Sky Spirits - against all enemies we stand together.

[ Posted by Reason on June 18, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Jora Speaks of Councils, Lords and Tribal Law

Our Councils speak of Tradition where Lightward Lords speak of Law. We respect the Three Lesser Councils and priests of the One God, where Lightward warriors pledge Oaths to the Divine of the Katar. Yet we are of one Tribe, ruled by the Great Council and granted the wisdom of the Son of the Ancestral Sky Spirits.

The Law Scrolls of our Tribe are guidance, inked by our ancestors to aid us - wise and great are our Traditions, but without the weight of Divine Will. The One God and the Sky Spirits watch over us, but we earn the respect of our Divine ancestors though choice and Oath, not blind obedience - such is for outcasts, Wohken and Dispossessed.

Respect Tradition, but not because you are told to do so. These are the ways of our Tribe, Godward and Lightward alike. Rightfully so, yes, but they are not as the rock of the World. Honor and truth are not to be found in ink, word or Law - they dwell in the heart, the clasped hand, the Oath.

Listen now, for I tell Tradition as set forth in the Law Scroll of our Wayhouse: First, that Susyan shall cause no violence and no harm to Susyan. Second, that Susyan shall not raid, nor covet, nor steal from Susyan. Third, that the Oath from Susyan to Susyan is binding until death. Fourth, that the Katar is the territory of the Divine Susyan alone. Fifth, that Susyan shall pair with Susyan alone, or none at all. Sixth, that Susyan hold the Rite to its place. These are small and simple words, yet great and broad as a mountain.

[ Posted by Reason on June 28, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Scholar Beri Tells the Tale of Gesun's Arrow

There exist World Fragments watched by the Ancestral Sky Spirits, Fragments that bring fortune to those who do not use them to anger our great ancestors. It came to pass that the smallest of these World Fragments was held by Gesun, a renowned warrior of the generation of Pathway Wars.

Gesun was beloved by Jentik, and so it was that he took the sharp World Fragment to the eldest Namekeeper, a scribe of great and divine secrets who dwelled atop the high stairway in those cycles. It was she who crafted an Arrow of the strongest Uk wood to fit the Fragment, she who foretold the Fragment would bring great fortune until the very breath it was used to shed blood onto the rock of the World. From that wake, Gesun prospered under the gaze of the Ancestral Sky Spirits.

Yet it came to pass that the Pathway Wars would consume even the fortune of Gesun. On the high rock of Mayet's Passing, surrounded by the Fifteen Brotherhoods of Club and Ax, every Susyan arrow was sent to rest in Wohken bone and flesh. Every arrow save for the very last, the Arrow crafted by the eldest Namekeeper. Wohken blood ran over rock like spilled water from a Gift of the Provider, yet still the Brotherhoods climbed to fight. Gesun nocked the Arrow to his great bow of sinew and Uk wood, and it leaped true to slay the son of a Father. The Wohken faltered for ten heartbeats, but the Ancestral Sky Spirits turned away from Gesun and so his fortune Passed. In rage and revenge, the Father and ten Amrals rushed at Gesun and slew him where he stood.

This took place many generations ago, yet Gesun's Arrow remains. The Sky Spirits will bring great fortune to the warrior who carries but never nocks the Arrow.

[ Posted by Reason on July 11, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Passing of Hesun

Lord, there will be need of strong words this wake, or I fear the Ceremony of Passage will see blood shed on rock and wood. Hesun was more than Oathbound these generations - he was the truest spirit, and I would rather Pass myself than see what is to come.

I hear your judgement, I acknowledge it - but let the Ancestral Spirits judge Hesun for swallowing inkberry poison, let that judgement come in the World Beyond, not here on the rock of our community. Hesun wished to journey to the Sky in the time of his choosing, wished so strongly that he came to this. Yes, his flesh and blood cannot be part of the Claiming Ritual, but will not Daren still Claim sinew for bows, to honor the wake in which he and Hesun showed aim more true than the Lord of Nekopis? Will not the Namekeeper come from her dwelling to Claim skin for the tales Hesun shared with Jentik from the High Plateau? Will not Tarey and Urtim and Johat claim ribs and arm bones for the weapons of raiding, so that Hesun's will watch the warriors he taught from his place in the Sky?

I care not that Hesun chose a Passing other than his own! He will still be Hesun to me! I will honor my Oath, and I will see his Ceremony is the Ceremony of a Susyan warrior! But this I know - ten warriors will step forward at the Claiming to Claim Hesun's Ax, the Ax taken from the bodies of a hundred Wohken in the Pathway War. The Ax was to be Claimed by Hesun's partner, and all understood as much, but the young of the community speak poorly of Hesun this past wake. They know nothing of his spirit! But they will spill blood and fight for his Ax, and by my Oath, I will not hold myself back if they do!

This I come to you with, Lord - a request for strong words at the Ceremony. Claim the Ax for the Lord's Hall and all will be well. This, I ask of you in Hesun's name, my own name, and for the Oath we shared.

[ Posted by Reason on July 17, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Tales of Wohken Spirits of Rock and Sky > Oaths and Myths of the Susyan > Tales of Wohken

Dearn Recounts the Legend of Sleeping

Our ancestors, the first children of the Ancestral Spirits, would have lived in peace and harmony upon the rock of the World. But not all were noble of mind and body, not all could swear and hold Oaths. Those pitied, outcast Oathbreakers crept away to become the Wohken. In their jealousy the First Families of the Wohken gazed upon our ancestors and plotted. They tricked a long-Passed God into stealing the memory of waking from all Susyan and our ancestors, the children of the Ancestral Spirits, fell into a sleep of generations. In sorrow, the Ancestral Spirits returned to the Sky or Passed, leaving only their bones to watch over the Sleeping Place. The Oathbreaking Wohken rejoiced and spread their children across the rock of the World.

In time, the Passed God saw the true nature of the Wohken and relented. Jentik and Tsuroji came from the Sky to wake our ancestors from their long sleep and bring on a generation of war and revenge. Since that time, the Tribe has had good cause to raid and war with the Wohken. Yet not all were woken from the Sleeping Place, for there were many more of our ancestors then there have ever been Jentik or vanished Tsuroji. There, as is scribed in many ancient scrolls, lie the last of our ancestors, the last of the Sleeping Ones. I myself have held a cracked leather fragment depicting their divine coverings.

Such trickery, cowardice and envy stems from broken Oaths, from the Oathbreaking Wohken. The lies and actions of their ancestors have hidden the Place of Sleep from us; not even the honored bones of the Ancestral Sky Spirits point the way, yet I have heard it told that the God-King Himself gazed upon our ancestors and would not wake them. Great would be the rewards bestowed upon those who found the Place of Sleep, who woke the Sleeping Ones. The Ancestral Sky Spirits would look mightily upon them indeed.

[ Posted by Reason on March 22, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Master Tanmah of the Ussar Wayhouse on the Weight of Tales

Wohken, now, they grasp at lesser tales, at the tales of this wake and the last. The tales told by partners and between children - the Wohken grasp at small tales so hard that their Families grow large to hold them all. Our old foes look to the skulls of their ancestors, look to their Fathers, Families and Brotherhoods for guidance, because they forget the tales of true import. They forget the tales that carry weight with the great spirits and the One God.

Have you ever seen players perform in communities on the open rock between Gap and Realm? I have, in my wakes of wandering, a time ago now. You cannot understand without seeing, for all that many Masters of our order might disagree. We are Susyan, we Cru in this Wayhouse, and we know the true tales - of Auritar; of the Katar; of the Ancestral Sky Spirits; of battle; of the One God ... of our Tribe. We have taught these tales to the players and warriors of our Godward communities, as they in turn have taught these same tales to us.

Wohken, now, they cannot tell a tale in public without flame to cast shadow and flax to hold it. Wohken Brotherhoods tell their tales as warriors in battle, bearing the arms of their craft. In their shadow plays, the craft takes the place of the tale ... and without tales, the Wohken bow to ancestors and Families larger than the farthest Godward communities. This I put to you, is the difference between our Tribes.

[ Posted by Reason on July 14, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Sisterhood Amongst Jentik Spirits of Rock and Sky > Sisterhood Amongst Jentik

Tukarn 635 Tells of Crei and the Stairway to the High Plateau

Crei was the first Namekeeper of our Tribe, or so I say. Like all of the Earliest, she was the only holder of her name, a precious gift from a great spirit of the World Beyond. She was close to the One God, as were all the Earliest. The Taletellers who partner with Susyan in Tumri at the base of the Stairway claim it was Crei, not the One God, who crafted the only Path to ascend our High Plateau. This I do not say - two full wakes to ascend in the first generation of youth; stairs beyond count, each perfectly shaped from the rock of the World. Such is the work of the One God, who crafted the World beneath the Sky and within the World Beyond, not of Jentik - not even of the first mothers of the generations of legend.

But, daughter, it was Crei who led our ancestral mothers to ascend the Stairway. Of the Earliest, it is Crei we must thank for our communities built amidst the peace and safety of the Plateau.

[ Posted by Reason on June 26, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Raul Comforts Dairin 317

You have come to me because I am old, and because I am Susyan - so I do not know your spirit. It has been too many cycles since Dairin 27 Passed to the Sky, but I know the spirit of the Jentik well enough to speak as I do. You are as one spirit, yet as many. My Oathbound, those with whom I have not clasped hands in a generation, would have given respect to you all, would have mistaken one for another and not seen that which made Dairin 27 my partner.

Sit, dry your tears on woven flax. Cruelty comes easily to those who share spirits. You are young, and I am old enough to be cruel in teaching - worse will happen. Others will come, will give you great happiness, will wound your spirit deeply, will leave or Pass. You yourself will do the same.

The Taletellers speak of Tukarn of the Earliest, partner of Crei; she was skilled and often climbed the great Outlook facing the Realm of the World Crafter. It was she who built the first stairway of bone to reach the very top, though little remains now. She threw herself from the Outlook rock upon learning of the Passing of Crei, gripped with a grief I understand all too well. But I am Susyan, and I must wait for my time - this is the way desired by the Ancestral Sky Spirits.

A beautiful wind flute once stood before this dwelling. It spoke with a voice I and many another tried to recapture in wood and bone - tried and failed. Yet it stands there no more, for I carried it across the Plateau rock to Tukarn's Outlook. There it speaks for me in the chill wind, amidst ancient gifts placed by ten thousand ancestral mothers of the Jentik. For this grief we all share.

No, it does not take the pain away - but it is the rightful Path. Speak to your mother of her life, ask openly and then journey to Tukarn's Outlook. Leave a little of yourself in memory of cycles shared and find an understanding amidst the space of lives and generations.

[ Posted by Reason on June 26, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Namekeeper of Dairin

This is an old scroll you bring me; the leather is cracked, the ink is faded. Bring the flame closer so that I may read, for the Midrin brushwork is almost gone, and my sight is not as it was in my first generation.

This, the scroll speaks: Time became cruel to Dairin 347, as it will become cruel to us all. Yet still, there were calls for her voice and wisdom. The scrolls came from far and wide, and many were the messengers that climbed Crei's Stairway. But until the very end of her life, Dairin 347 would not leave the territory of our ancestors. She had been scarred, and the world suffered with her.

I know of this name; it is upon the Saddened Scroll of our community, not written to in generations. There is no Dairin 347, and will not be again - the name has Passed and returned to the great spirits of the World Beyond. The Taletellers recall, as is their duty: Dairin 347 took a life in this community, and for sister to slay sister is the greatest of ills. This, many generations before my grandmother's time, but the Taletellers recall.

[ Posted by Reason on June 27, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Tales Told by the Enierd Spirits of Rock and Sky > Tales Told by the Enierd

Lat's Tale

I gathered frost with these broken hands, but no more, no more. The cold has taken my fingers and I cannot now lace leather nor carve bone as I once did - see these last works? The pain is nothing; I have been to the World Beyond and returned to tell the tale.

Sixteen wakes I was gone from my partner. Breaking hoarfrost from Tefa's Scarp in the howling air, climbing ever higher. No-one climbed the slopes at the edge of the World as I did, and none with any sense will again. The high air picked me from the rock and the shouts of my friends; it carried me far and into the depths beyond the Scarp. I may bear the blood of ancient Frost Gatherers in my veins, but the cold! I was more dead than alive when I returned, despite the thick layered leather you see there.

Many have come; my tale is heard in Fatek, Naskal and beyond, told at Meets by Chieftains of the Clans. Travelers have taken it further, and added much that is not true. The thin-boned Wohken send their librarians, weighted with ink and leather. Priests of the One God from their Great Temple come and go with nonsense legends and talk of divine material - I have no time for their kind. But the center of my tale has been heard across the World, and I must accept that in poor exchange for my hands.

The gates of the World Beyond opened for me beyond Tefa's Scarp. I lay amid frozen, dry bodies on sheltered rock, those who accepted the call and for whom the time had come. They were thin, ancient; not Enierd from the Clans. No ritual of Passing had been made for the dead beyond the Scarp. I could have risen up and set forth to follow the thin air, to talk to Gods where the Sky meets the mountains. My body would not obey me, and see the gates as I did, it was not my time to pass.

I do not know how long I lay there. I ate fallen frost when the time had come to move my limbs once more. My partner waited for me, my friends could not be denied their part in my Passing. Again and again I tried to climb the way the high air had carried me. Again and again I fell atop the strange bodies of those who came before me.

The cold numbed my mind and I heard spirits whispering on the wind. Trapped there, or come from the World Beyond to guide me I cannot say. The cold took me away from myself, and I recall little of what I must have done to lose my hands, my most precious tools. I know that I could not stay as the spirits wanted. My friends found me on the open rock beneath the Scarp, frozen close to death and ranting - so they say.

No, no, there is no luck. There is only will, frost, air, this tale and my broken hands.

[ Posted by Reason on March 20, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Bora's Tale of Ulur and Braikin's Tablets

I don't care what Retauk told you. She weaves more lies than I do seedgrass stems. It was Ulur, whose blood we all bear, who discovered the Tablets. You could ask him yourself were he still alive, and he would rattle your bones for doubting his word.

Yes, Braikin was one of the foolish elder priests at the Great Temple, but you have to admire a man who can get a God to do something for him. More than I've managed, I'll tell you now. It seems old Braikin became careless as the cycles passed and lost the prized Tablets. No, I have no idea what they said. I may have held them in these two hands, before the priests and their Temple Keepers came to take them away, but do you think I would waste good time to learn a hundred different characters for the word "God?" If you'll stop interrupting me, I'll tell you where Ulur comes into this tale, the important part! Quiet, I say!

Ulur was the bravest of all in his community, perhaps even all Clan Usone ... yes, you may all jeer, but have you raided the Underworld and returned with divine creations? No, of course not; the best of you could not compare. Strong Ulur, searching for a way to outdo his old rival Erumat, took the boldest step of all. He and two others - no, I don't know, but no one that Retauk has ever heard of - descended into the Underworld. Yes, and through the caverns of the Hollow Mountain not thirty kloms from where you seat yourselves.

The Glowing Ones fled in fear from the brave Ulur ... yes, mock all you like, I would have liked to have seen any of you face my grandfather at a Clan Meet. His arms were the size of your thighs, Meyas, three generations after the time I tell you of!

[ Posted by Reason on March 21, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Retuak's Retort and Gutal's Anger

Ulur was Bora's grandfather, you say? Is he still taking Uk wood in trade for those tired words? It surprises me that you haven't heard it already - it surprises me that the tale itself has not Passed to the World Beyond. Now, should you wish to hear what truly took place, I will tell you, but not this wake, nor the next. There are other tales to tell.

A better tale of the Hollow Mountain, yes. In the time of Gutal and Causi, a great number of Glowing Ones dwelled within the Hollow Mountain, many more than the six hundred and sixty six that poured forth in the Great Darkness. Those screaming, shouting ones overcame their fear of the Sky to raid, spoil and damage all that Gutal built. That great crafter, far greater than even Ulur I say, could not accept such ill treatment. Taking up club, ax and flame, he drove the Glowing Ones deep into the Underworld. The despoilers did not raid from the Hollow Mountains again for generations, so terrified they were.

Ha! A pity Clan Causi has few enough like Gutal now, few enough like Ulur. Show me better at the next Meet and I may listen to your boasts!

[ Posted by Reason on March 21, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Nadrea the Bonecrafter Tells of the Valley of Screaming Air

It is in Reti territory, between two mountains high and frost-covered at the very edge of the World. All of Clan Reti have the blood of Frost Gatherers, not just those who dwell on hoarfrost and war with the high air of mountain peaks to see into the World Beyond.

The air is harsh in the high terrority of our Tribe, racing to the World Beyond and laden with the spirits of the Passed, but it is harsh beyond measure in the narrow Valley of Screaming Air. With my hand on the tattoo inked by Fenas before he Passed, I tell you that the noise of it will make your ears bleed and the strongest of you fall to the rock.

The air screams for the Frost Gatherers of old, as it was there that they passed into the World Beyond to serve the Gods.

[ Posted by Reason on March 27, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Turen Guides the Youngest Enierd

Yes, hah! With a little more strength in your arm you'll be apprenticed to the bonecrafter and Meser will ink your first Clan mark. Let me look at you ... one of Presam's are you not? Ho! Her last had an eye for bone, I recall, and this from a fine warrior of a mother. Fine scars, fine ink she has! And you hand me bone, broken just right - you must get it from the father's blood. You know what you want, and that is well.

Hah! But let me tell you a tale - all you young ones, a tale of Resant of the highest community. A tale and then leave me to carving, for these Uk stairs must soon be taken out to the Crafters' Path to the high pass and roped into place.

Now I was as young as you when this came to pass. Ho! It was after the Still Sky, when our Clan go down from our high valleys to the Great Meet in Naskal. Resant of the highest Jatu had spent forty long cycles in journey to Tumnil, in trade and mighty work for Uk wood, and in the crafting of three great, perfect wooden throwing spheres. Forty cycles since the last Great Meet! Fine throwing spheres they were too, a full body in weight and of a single piece - and do you know the skill shown in a perfect sphere? Hah! You will when you grow to compete in contests of strength.

But, ho! Resant was ever the diligent crafter, better to finish late than to stop before he should. There is a lesson for you to think on! Mere wakes remained before tradition had the Great Meet commence - the highest of our Clan had long since left, past our community and down into the foothills. But there is no shame in failing, only in failing to try ... so it was that Resant took rope gifted by the eldest crafters of the highest community, those too old to travel, and he and he alone rolled and lowered and carried his perfect throwing spheres down the high paths. Slow and hard it was!

Ah, but the story is not over. For the daughter of a Susyan Lord had seen the Still Sky also, and thought to climb the high paths to raid whilst the Clans met in contest. This much the Susyan see as the craft of a warrior! Hah! Resant and his spheres met the Susyan and her companions at the Narrow Stair. Down he looked on their bolas and axes from the top of that scarp. Up the Susyan looked at Resant alone. Many fine words were exchanged, yes, for two warriors cannot stand side by side on the Narrow Stair - one and one behind the Susyan would have to climb. Resant hefted his first perfect sphere, and the Susyan shouted and threatened, but would not try the Stair.

Ho! Late indeed was Resant! The Meet was over, the contests won before the Susyan gave up in failure. We of the Clans would have more determination - but Susyan are Susyan; thin of body, thin of limb, thin of purpose. But what a tale! The crafters of the highest community met Resant on their return to the foothills, and promptly turned back to Naskal. One last contest they would hold with Resant's spheres, and rightly so!

[ Posted by Reason on June 9, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

A Contest of Crafters and a Priest Ignored

Ho! You have the look of one who talks to the One God in hope of an answer. You will find little of interest in our small community. Hah! Little indeed! Absee's Guesthouse will prove friendly enough, though I pity her crippled leg trapped with a priest under the same beams. Talk of travel - and only travel - and she may be of a mind to give easy trade, for she misses past cycles and misses them fiercely.

Hah! Busy we are in Tesam, but not to be listening to foolishness. Gods are Gods, of the Sky, of the World Beyond, and we have the World before us. Perhaps the young ones, for some have not yet seen a priest from the Great Temple, but not this wake. No, for look upslope, where we gather beneath Heku's Tower. It is the last wake of contest, the winner to craft the new highest beam for the Chieftain's Hall. And ho! See there, before the Hall and Lees' banner, the felled Uk that is to be the new beam. Fifty cycles in Tumnil would not trade for that much wood, and ten cycles would not be enough to engrave it - but there it stands, just as we put it, just as we brought it across the open rock, hill and mountain from the home of the Provider.

See there, beneath the Tower. Taral who crafted the anchor blocks of the Third Bridge and Mas, who crafts a new step for Vasen's Ridge Stair each and every cycle. They have wrestled, they have thrown the great spheres, and now they carve in wood and bone to show their prowess. Ho! A fine story for the young of Tesam, to say they have seen such crafters! We scarely have to leave our dwellings to see the very essence of a Clan Meet before our eyes!

This, and you not even of the Crafter Sect to send your acolytes to trade for the old, dry beam we will take down in cycles to come. Hah! A waste!

[ Posted by Reason on June 24, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Angering Nidri After the Contest of Warriors

I have two hands, I have no need of more! It is barely deep enough to be called a scratch! See now, not even bone at the deepest. What of the blood? Am I wood, to split cleanly? This rock has seen blood before, mark me well. No, not the flax! It will dry, and blood on flax will mark for cycles! Leave me!

See to the younger ones, see to the Servants of the Provider, I care not. Let Unat boast and stride - if he were half the warrior he claims, he would best me without ax blade and knife point ... as I would have for him! Let me alone, I say! I can hold awl and twine - see, I sew the first stitch myself!

[ Posted by Reason on July 6, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

About the Susyan Spirits of Rock and Sky > Tales Told by the Enierd > About the Susyan

Pesa's Tale of the Susyan and Jatu's Bridge

Ho! It came to pass that the warriors of the Susyan Lord and the great hero Jatu faced each other across the Wide Chasm. The Susyan came to raid and Jatu sought to show his skill with the great bone club, made of the shoulders of ten ancestors.

The rift extended for twenty kloms Godward and twenty kloms Lightward. It was as deep as the Plateau of the Jentik is high. The warriors of the Susyan would have left unsatisfied, for they were lazy in the face of labor. They had no fire in their blood to match their bold speech and intentions. But ho! Jatu, he cut his own long hair to craft the rope for the first of the Three Bridges across the great chasm.

Thereby the warriors and Clan founder Jatu clashed, and the Susyan raiders were soundly defeated.

[ Posted by Reason on March 21, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

About the Underworld Spirits of Rock and Sky > Tales Told by the Enierd > About the Underworld

Trare Tells of the Generations of Legend

The first crafters of the world were skilled in ways we cannot be. Gods and spirits were partners and teachers, joined with the Clans of those cycles, Clans whose very names are lost to time. With their bare hands, the first crafters shaped the very rock of the World as if it were wet leather. From the Gods came the divine materials, and these also were shaped by the first crafters.

But ho! Some crafters forced the rock apart and delved deep and long, searching for the heart of the World. They made ravines, chasms and great pits as easily as I craft the beams of a roof. The rock they did not desire piled into mighty mountain ranges, reft with valleys and high passes. Soon, these first crafters had made the Underworld in their quest for the heart of all. Hah! Then came their reward as they set free dark spirits and unknown Gods trapped beneath the deepest rock. So came the Time of Gray Death upon the World, and so passed the generations of legend.

[ Posted by Reason on June 15, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Teachings of the One God Spirits of Rock and Sky > Teachings of the One God

Ter of the Sectless on Lisat

The Treatise of Lisat argues that "Within the Realm of the World and Sky, it is manifestly observed that there is Spirit and there is Material. What else must we argue Material to be but the Spirit, the Divine Will, taken solid form? Once this fundamental equivalence is accepted, as accepted it must be, much that was mysterious will become clear to the thinker."

Well chosen as her words are, the obsessive arguments within the works of Lisat towards the equivalence of God and Material must be ignored if the truth within is to be seen. Previous generations have known her as a heretic, and justly so. Still, many of her words illustrate the Divine about us - too much is taken for granted in the communities of the World. Susyan and Wohken become inured to the teachings of priests, as though pretending to be Enierd!

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Most Copied Fragment of Se Zan's Beginnings

His Will created the World from dark Void, but He looked upon His work and saw it empty. Thus, He placed the first people into the World and the first spirits into the Sky.

He saw the World was yet dark for people and spirits. Thus, He sent His Avatar to the World to sustain the people. Thus, His Divine Will covered the Sky to sustain the spirits.

Thereafter the Light of the One God illuminated all. Spirits honored Him, shining forth in aid of His Light. People honored Him, becoming His trusted servants, dwelling within His Avatar.

[ Posted by Reason on March 28, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Esula of the Conclave Confers With Her Followers

That is where you are wrong, Odi. To cry heresy would bring disaster, even though the words of Innis Mei are strong and contrary. She is respected in the Sect of Crafters and has won many friends amongst the honored Sectless; even the Touched look favorably on her work.

No. I shall speak with others of the Conclave, and we shall approach her privately. Perhaps she has simply slipped from the true pathway of the Cult.

Yet again, perhaps we simply need to wait; I hear the rumors of Innis Mei and Asan, a partnership in all but name. Recall the stories of Vulos of the Stronmar Sect - she spoke greatly and often in the Conclave of her generation, and her words were heeded for tens of cycles. Then the One God showed His displeasure with His servant; her child was stillborn and her voice was heard no more in the Hall of the Conclave.

[ Posted by Reason on March 29, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Butime Outlines the Law of the Cult and the Law of the Priesthood

Let it be clearly set forth, here in ink and word, the Law of the Cult as passed down from the One God and our great Conclave. Those outside our priesthood, those who dwell within the Great Temple and Pathway Communities and pilgrims who come to give rightful worship, are commanded to respect the Law and prosper beneath the Light of the One God.

This shall be the Law of the Cult: Within your domain, you shall enforce the lesser laws of the Tribes as well as the Law of the One God. None shall lightly speak of the One God in His domain. Respect shall be given to His servants. None shall transgress against others, by word, by violence, or by faith. The word of the One God shall be passed to all who enter your domain. For those who break the Law of the One God, let their punishment be seen and heard by all.

Let it be clearly set forth, here in ink and word, the Law of the Priesthood as brought down from the highest vaults of the Great Temple by Braikin himself in the cycles of the First Conclave. We submit ourselves to the Law and thereby prove ourselves worthy to the One God, earning our places in the Sky.

This shall be the Law of the Priesthood: In the sight of the One God, all of His Servants are as one Family. Honor the Priest who stands beside you and that respect will be returned. The Priest offers Faith to the One God only. To worship False Gods is to betray the Spirit in Heresy. The Priest respects the Hierarchy of the Cult and obeys the Commands of the Conclave. The Priest works in the service of the One God, showing to all the Pathway of the Light of True Faith. To betray the One God, in Word, Faith or Deed, is to commit Heresy.

[ Posted by Reason on June 11, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Galal's Pilgrimage

I, Asuto of the Recorders, transcribe this ancient scroll from the Archivists' Rooms on the leather of the Sectless, Passed to serve the One God. I, Asuto of the Recorders, bring this restored knowledge through the Vault of Winds to the Tower of Lesser Records where it will survive my time in the World. May you read the truth of Galal's Pilgrimage and be touched by faith as I have been.

In the cycles of Claiming, when the cast out Dispossessed rose up to take the rock above the Great Scarp from the Frost Gatherers, Galal of the Susyan came from the Great Temple to the Sect of the Broken Oath. Her faith in the One God taken by doubt, she prepared for the quiet of contemplation in the Halls of the Lost. So it was and so it might have been, but for Galal's great and burning spirit - worthy of the Divine said to be her ancestors.

Deep in the highest Enierd territory, hidden from all by the most solitary Clans, lies the Divine Inscription. Braikin himself said before the First Conclave that "the words of the One God, the highest Divine purpose, are inscribed upon the mountains of the Enierd." The Crafters' Seat in the Hall of Conclave bears an ancient engraving of of the Divine Inscription; the smooth face of a mountainside, a Pathway set on its side. The strange characters on the Enierd mountain, some similar to Midrin or Murikarn, are half a span in height and inscribed to a greater depth than the arm can reach.

So it was that Galal came to the Divine Inscription as it is presented in the Ten Scrolls of Faith Regained. The One God spoke to her in those wakes, and Galal came to understand that she would conduct a pilgrimage to the Divine Inscription - a pilgrimage through the territory of the faithless Enierd in a time of unrest. Her faith awaited her as the first priest of the One God to worship before the Divine Inscription in ten generations.

Galal's great spirit spoke for her, and the Halls of the Lost echoed with the noise of preparation. It came to pass that the worthy priests of the Conclave looked favorably upon her pilgrimage - many priests and initiates from the Sect of the Broken Oath would follow Galal from the Pathway communities to rediscover the Divine Inscription.

[ Posted by Reason on June 16, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The First Spirit of the Sky Map

So now a priest, Seun? I had predicted your diligence and care would be noticed. The Stronmars will work you hard now that you wear the hinged robe - and you will come amongst the Sectless less often. You will be missed, but such is the Will of the One God; we each serve as we are able.

Still weak from the ink, neh? I had not wanted to speak of it, but the flame-light shows it well. The first and smallest needle point of the great Map, the spirit of Mer, loyal to Braikin, is the hardest. Your body will grow used to inkberry poison - soon you will add a spirit in each cycle and your skin will honor the One God just as do your elders.

Are you to leave us for the far, dim Godward rock to watch the Sky, or are you be taken into the upper Temple? Ah, you must have indeed caught the eye of greater priests. I bow to you, for you have passed me in the estimation of the Conclave and The Five. Few ascend to the cold High Chambers to observe the spirits of the Sky and the Light through the High Gateways - it is a hard journey, climbing so far above the rock of the World.

We will worship in your stead while you travel within the Avatar; you must come to our Hall once more when you return. We will be glad to hear your tales and share in ritual once more.

[ Posted by Reason on July 1, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

A Requested Service in Honor of the One God

Seis assures me that you are known to him and can be trusted. I am grateful that you honor me with your presence, and confident in my companion's choice. I will name myself: I am Camnel Meten Resi of the Seventh Rank of Crafters, come to Lasuten from the Great Temple but recently. Please listen to my words, for I find myself in need of service I cannot ask of the honored Wanderers and Crafters of this community.

In cycles past, it fell to a honored friend of the Third Rank to maintain the shrine in Cir, far from the large Godward communities of your Tribe and close to the Valley of the Eye. He has vanished, and Master Esua of the Cru has passed tales to our acolytes from travelers who claim the shrine is collapsed and deserted.

Stranger tales are told, of Keepers of the Eye on the open rock of your Tribe once more, but I pay them no heed and nor should you. Such tales are told and retold until they have no meaning. A generation ago, I gave my word to Father Bai Iri regarding my honored friend, and this word I will keep - as Susyan, you should understand such matters of the heart, neh? We are not so different, I think. I ask this of you: in the name of the One God, journey to Cir and find the priest Bai Cutan.

The Will of the One God be with you; ten skulls of Uk wood await your successful return.

[ Posted by Reason on July 19, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

Meten Resi's Message to Meten Jui of the Temple Keepers

May this char-marked scroll find you safely in Kesuit, and may it be rubbed clean after the reading. The one who bears this scroll, Seis of the First Rank, is faithful, but knows nothing of our plans, nor how to read this ancient Murikarn script. May the One God grant that he is not cast aside by the Recorders and Stronmars of the Conclave - as I will be if this tale comes to a poor end.

You have my word that I will commend you to my Amral in the matter of your rank within the Family, and again my most heartfelt gratitude for your part in my defence. Seis brings trusted companions from amongst these Godward Susyan - a change to our plans, but one that will be for the better. They are to journey to Dasen's Shrine at Cir, and you will follow. Heretic Susyan yet hide in plain sight in this far, dark territory, that much I have confirmed as I traveled the Great Pathway and the marked routes to Lasuten. The heretics worship the Eye and the Keepers, turning from the One God and all that is right and true. In this you were knowledgable, and by this we will demonstrate our faith beyond any gainsay.

I will yet see those who seek to burn my scrolls cast from their Sects! Their theology is as weak as their position in the Temple is strong - would that the most honored Crafters had Five to oppose the Stronmars, or scrolls to oppose the Recorders. Alas, they are content to let the One God, creator of all, be diminished by heresy in word, ink and deed. This while lesser Crafters are at the beck and call of our enemies!

May the One God guide the nets and bolas of your companions to worthy targets!

[ Posted by Reason on July 20, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Servants' Path Spirits of Rock and Sky > The Servants' Path

Tumnil and a Departure

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 ]

The Meet at Naskal

"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 edg