Nation/Clan/Kingdom/Tribe Name: The Hogtusk Tribe Represented Color: Peru. Race: Ogres Breed: Furskins Capital: Big Rock Ruler: Rog-mohog the Brainy
Type of Government: Chiefdom. The Hogtusks are led by a chieftain whose position usually is legitimised through strength, skill or herd size. In addition to the chieftain, the clan shaman holds considerable power as a spiritual figurehead.
Religion: The Hogtusks practice a form of animism where the nature around them is inhabited by several spirits. These potentially number the millions, but due to a lacking affinity for counting, the Hogtusks primarily stick to five Great Spirits. These are routinely honoured through sacrifice and prayer. The five spirits are,
The Owl Spirit: The sneaky hunter - an aspiration for all who walk the woods in search of game. The Owl Spirit teaches the Hogtusks to be mindful of their steps and their grunts when sneaking up on prey, something that can be quite difficult for such menacing humanoids. Still, they try their very best.
The Boar Spirit: The meaty meal - the Great Boar Spirit is the most important one to the Hogtusks, being a symbol of wealth and prosperity. The Boar Spirit teaches the Hogtusks to savour every meal and to treat their livestock properly so that it one day may feed many mouths.
The Dog Spirit: The barking mutt - the Dog Spirit is a symbol of war to the Hogtusks. Few beasts can be as rabid as a wild wolf, and when vicious sentiment oozes through the camps like a plague, the Hogtusks know only one solution. When the dogs howl and bark in the night, the Hogtusks prepare for war.
The Ancestor Spirit: The old folks - in Hogtusk mythology, the soul departs the body after death and becomes a star in the sky. The whole starscape is known as the ‘ancestor spirit’. They teach the Hogtusks the knowledge of old and tell them over and over again to remember it properly this time. Crafters often seek their advice when they wish to pursue old and new skills.
The Wild Spirit: The lotsa things - as the name implies, the wild spirit in the untameable aspect of nature. It incorporates all the other spirits into itself and becomes a representation of nature itself and manifests itself in everything from stones to animals to ogres. It’s a tricky spirit, and is often described as an antagonistic force. Death and disease are often attributed to the wild spirit.
Geographical Location: The Hogtusk Tribe is in large part nomadic - they live primarily alongside great boars, oxen and goats, and decide where to settle based on where the livestock decide to graze. The only permanent settlement that is manned all year round is Big Rock, a large number of tents surrounding the spiritual centre of Hogtusk society - the Big Rock. It is single tall peak in the middle of the Steppy, also known as the Big Empty Place. The peak overlooks several pig- and oxskin tipis and lean-tos.
History:
For centuries, ogres have roamed the Ard Tops, a mountain range to the south-west of the Big Rock, making life a pain for everyone and everything around. Largely primitive and reliant on instinct to survive, these ogres quickly learned that picking fruit off trees and roots out of the ground could probably feed one or two mouths, but were but scraps to the whole family. It didn’t take a genius to realise there were bigger boars in the wood, and it was, in fact, not a genius who took up the first club and set her eyes on a small swine from the lower parts of the mountains. The news of these juicy beasts quickly spread, and it didn’t take long for the ogres to hunt every single boar around the Ard Tops. During this time, the ogres grew numerous and powerful, and their large forms necessitated large meals; therefore, as the large drop of pig’s blood soaked into the forest soil, the ogres faced a terrible problem: What on earth were they going to eat?
A massive die-off ensued, with ten-foot-tall giants clad in thick, brown fur dropped to the ground like flies. The ogres flocked to their primitive shrines, begging every spirit their limited minds could think of to help them out of this predicament.
The spirits sadly didn’t oblige.
In the end, the ogres were reduced to a mere shadow of the menace they had been before. Slowly, but surely, the evidence of their rampage across the land began to fade as life returned to the hills. Seeing the animals return sent the ogres into a frenzy. Spears were made; arrows, fletched. After such suffering and such hunger, the ogres would eat again.
However, history would not pass as so. One group of ogres, known to the Hogtusk nowadays as the Proffyts, recalled the lessons of the Ancestor Spirit and halted the ogre hunt. They reasoned instead that they should beseech the Wild Spirit, apologise for their senseless rampage in the past and instead offer to live alongside the boar - learn from it, care for it. The message took a long time to sink in, during which the Proffyts feared the boars would be hunted to extinction again. Turmoil spurred; brawls and skirmishes between the different clans sent many into exile. In the end, the Proffyts were defeated, forced to leave their ancestral home in the hills around the Ard Tops and cross into the endless sea of grass known as the Big Empty Place. Leading the exiles was one named Mohog, and as the sun peeked over the horizon one day weeks after their exodus, the ogre found his eyes locking onto a familiar form on the horizon. It was a boar - one larger and fatter than he had ever seen. Water filled his mouth and he reached for his spear. With the teachings of the Owl Spirit echoing in his mind, the ogre began to sneak in on the boar. The distance became just right; the ogre flattened against the ground as silently as he could as the hog turned around. It scanned the tall grass, but found nothing and went back to eating some mushrooms. Mohog seized his chance. The ogre rose into a crouch, pulled back his arm and aimed--
Then he dropped the spear. The clack as it struck the ground caught the boar’s attention again and it set off into a sprint. Before long, it had vanished from his view. Mohog swallowed the disappointed spittle in his mouth. The Wild Spirit had possessed him, surely, he thought - not even an ogre was stupid enough to let such a juicy boar simply bugger off.
Yet there he knelt, the spear no longer in his hand, and his eyes locked on the mushrooms the boar had been eating. He plucked one and gave it a sniff. It smelled of dirt. He took a bite. It tasted like dirt, only juicier. While not overjoyed at the flavour, it was a considerably large mushroom, he had to admit, and as he dug around in the earth some more, he found that it grew deep - and had siblings. He collected as many as he could and carried them back to his clan. That night, they ate properly for the first time in weeks.
The next day, Mohog and some others found more mushrooms and began chasing boars with offers of food in exchange for a haunch of meat. Needless to say, the boars were not interested.
The next day, Mohog and even more found additional mushrooms and laid them in a pile. Then they hid some distance away to observe. Sure enough, eventually there came a boar - then some more. After a time, a large pack were gnawing happily on the mushrooms the ogres had gathered for them. The ogres were content and gave each other proud pats on the back.
Then, when the mushrooms had been finished, the boars left. The ogres sat in the grass with empty expressions, staring at the pile of mushroom crumbs.
The next day, Mohog and the whole clan lined up into one great wall, covering a sizeable amount of ground. Each ogre had a handful of mushrooms in their hand and a bucketload of patience in their heart. And so, they waited.
Dawn became midday; midday became evening. Ogres began to sit down and mumble to each other. Out of all the plans, this had to be the silliest one yet. They all looked exactly like the type of creature any sensible smaller animal would instinctively avoid. Thinking anything would approach them was utterly--
A roar of surprise had sounded from the end of the line. An ogre waved his free hand while the other was feeding an increasingly frightened boar. The others slowly gathered around to witness the miracle - a boar had willingly approached them.
The following weeks were spent much in the same way, and as weeks became months, more and more boars flocked to the ogres. A small herd accumulated, and the herd soon began to birth young. The old were killed and eaten, and the breeding population were protected and fed. The ever increasing need for mushrooms took the ogres further and further out on the Big Empty Place and along the way, they encountered oxen, which were tamed in much the same manner, albeit with fewer trial attempts.
After many years of wandering the large plains, the ogres came upon a single giant peak in the middle of the Big Empty Place - or rather, they had seen it miles away and walked towards it. They had found it mesmerising from a distance, and around and atop the peak they grew familiar with the local goat populations. These were tamed in much the same way. Then, on his way up to the summit of the mountain, Mohog suffered a terrible accident and was killed during a fall. The ogres grieved for him, for he had been their salvation from the vicious cycle of hunting and dying. However, as the legends say, Mohog was carried up to the night sky by the Ancestor Spirit themself, and enshrined forever as the great Norf Star.
Now, his son, Rog-mohog, must take up the mantle as chieftain and ensure the continuation of this young herder civilisation, starting by making them a home.
Divinely provided protection and reform in leadership had made all the difference. At first, the raiders had mocked the new Wuhdige phalanx, snickering at the bucklers about their left arms. However, as the first waves attempted to break the line as they always had, they found that their spears and clubs struck something other than flesh and bone.
As a single unit, the Wuhdige phalanx, commanded by the newly appointed Shieldboss Woi’e, bashed their plates against the enemy charge, snapping spears and sending clubs straight back at their swingers. The enemy forces quickly fell into disarray as the vanguard was disarmed and dazed. Then, the phalanx broke, with screaming, painted Wuhdige horde unleashing itself upon the broken Elu-Wogweh assault. They donned a new paint now - the red, yellow and dark brown mask of the war god Damasta glistening across their faces as they charged after the routing enemy.
The small raiding party stood no chance at all. What they thought was going to be a quick fishgrab and capture of some berry-pickers had turned into a complete run for the hills. Wuhdige morale had been restored for the first time in months, and the warriors came home to thunderous celebration. Aloft a large group’s shoulders sat the great Shieldboss Woi’e, tearful with joy at the applause in her name. Fires were lit and fish were fired - their victory warranted a feast. Berries were munched, mushrooms were dropped on hot coals and left to cook. Celebratory paints in honour of the Red Boy were drawn on everyone’s bodies and the Wuhdige danced and sang around a great bonfire until the night was old.
As celebrations neared the end and most Wuhdige had fallen asleep in their burrows, Aloo approached Woi’e and patted her on the back.
“You did it, Shieldboss,” the chieftain praised. “You beat back those lumps.”
Woi’e snickered and nodded. “Was just doin’ my job, chief. Party was small this time; might be bigger next time.”
Aloo closed his eyes and bobbed his head. “I’m not worried - you got this. You lead our warriors into fighting, and you do it well.”
Woi’e blushed and rubbed her neck. “Well, uh… That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s the truth,” Aloo insisted. “You do it so well, actually, that-...” He put a hand over his mouth in a teasing manner. “Oop - better not say.”
“Not say what?” Woi’e asked with a frown. Aloo shrugged playfully.
“Keep up the good work and you’ll find out.”
The shieldboss gave him a blank stare. “Can’t you gimme a hint at least? So I can kinda guess?” “A hint? But then all the fun’ll be gone,” Aloo reasoned.
“Pleeeeeeaaaase?” the woman begged. The chieftain sighed and scratched his chin.
“A’ight, fine - but only the one, okay?”
The woman nodded enthusiastically and rubbed her palms together in expectation. Aloo hummed pensively and poked at his lips as he tried to formulate a vague hint. Eventually, he raised one finger and said, “It has to do with fish.”
“Fish?” she said in a slightly disappointed matter. “Like, I get more to eat?”
“App, app! Just one hint, remember.” Woi’e huffed. The chieftain gave her a wink and spun on his heel, walking towards the cave. “Get yourself some sleep now! I’mma join your warriors tomorrow.”
Woi’e blinked. “What happens tomorrow?”
Aloo turned and gave her a thumb up. “Tomorrow, we attack.”
Woi’e wanted to protest, but the chieftain had already entered the cave before she could force out the words. She sat herself on a nearby rock and grabbed her muzzle in thought. An attack so soon? The enemy could be expecting it after the victory today. They would have to get the upper hand from the start… Maybe if they…
She kept grumbling over strategies even as she went into her burrow and laid down to sleep alongside the rest of her family. Even as she dreamt, all that flowed through her head were battleplan after battleplan.
It would be generous to say it was morning. Already long before dawn did the slick, slippery sounds of warpaint lick through the air like a wet tongue. In nigh complete silence, shields were strapped onto left arms and spears were equipped in the right. Even matte bone tips stood out in the darkness, so they, too, were coated with dark brown paint. The paint was made with thick, greasy bear fat - harvested from a fresh cadaver a hunting party had stumbled upon in the woods. The paint stuck to them like fish oil, regardless of whether they walked or swam. Dawn began to trickle over the horizon, and the war council inside the Hohm Cave produced the only voices in the whole camp.
“... A’ight, so…” the chieftain whispered. “Me and Woi’e will swim around the beach, down to the Elu home, with half our warriors. You, Duh, gonna stay here with the rest and make it look like you way more than you actually are. That way, they’ll think we’re still at home.”
Duhwah nodded understandingly and looked at Woi’e. “Then what? They’ll call our bluff after a while, no doubt.”
The Shieldboss nodded. “After we take the Elu camp, we gonna move back towards Hohm on land, retaking all our hunting and gathering hubs and outside camps. It’ll be risky, but… If it works, we’ll own the whole island.”
Duhwah furrowed his brows. “What if their camp got lots of warriors in it? Or what if they attack with everything they have while you’re gone?”
Woi’e sighed. “Like I said, it’ll be risky. Hohm got good defenses, and we got a breather after yesterday’s win to really gather some food. You can hunker down for a bit - they ain’t gonna get past the spike ditch.”
Duhwah pressed his lips together. “Sure, we could, but what about y’all? What if you run into their big party?”
Woi’e and Aloo exchanged looks. “Well,” Aloo said, “let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”
Duhwah shook his head. “This plan sounds dumber and dumber by the second.”
Woi’e nodded. “Yeah, but… It’s the best we got.”
Eventually, Duhwah nodded. “It’s the best we got… Good luck to y’all out there.”
Aloo gave his champion a nod and walked over to embrace him. “You, too, champ.”
Woi’e waited for Aloo with her spear in her hand, and the young chieftain soon followed her out with his own. Duhwah crossed his arm over his chest, the paint in his face colouring his expression quite stern. They would have to succeed - they had not the warriors for another defeat. If they lost this, the Wuhdige tribe would come to an end.
It was not before night had fallen again that the Wuhdige warriors approached the Elu camp as they had done two years prior. From the ocean, it seemed that the camp once more was largely abandoned, with only a few selka strolling about. Woi’e looked up at the sky. The night was still quite young - a streak of red still shone in the west. She turned to the warband and motioned for them to swim as far out as they could, until they no longer could see the camp, and go to sleep in the water. She would come later to wake one up and take watch. Aloo and the others nodded and silently dove back underwater to swim further out. Woi’e remained staring and observing the camp. Her buoyancy kept her afloat with minimal effort, so it was a simple task to spy on them from the sea. Among the oddities she noticed in the camp was an odd rack from which hung fish cadavers - and they did not just hang there as if someone had thrown them onto the rack and left them there; no, they hung there deliberately. For what reason would someone hang up a fish to dry out, Woi’e pondered with the subtle scratch of her head. One of the Elu came waddling over to the rack and Woi’e followed her movements closely. The female inspected the many fish, turning and lifting them. Then she took one down and, with some effort, ripped off a dry, flaky piece and nibbled on it.
“... eah, ‘s ‘ood,” was all Woi’e could hear, but she could piece together that this was some method of preparing the fish. Did its flavour improve, perhaps? Or was it so it wouldn’t go bad? She sniffed the air and frowned. No, it certainly smelled like it could go bad. Still, it would be interesting to attempt this technique back home at Hohm.
Then, mid-ponder, she spotted them: Out of the Elu cave came a massive force, greater than any she had ever seen - at least a-... She counted on her fingers, but found she ran out of them much too fast to get a good count. They did not outnumber the Wuhdige tribe, but they certainly outnumbered her force. She dove a little deeper and prayed to Damasta that her war paints were dark enough to blend in with the sea. On the shore, she heard distant chatter and concentrated every fiber of her being into decyphering what was being said. Luckily, or perhaps unfortunately, the voices were closing in. Woi’e froze completely and shut her eyes, appearing to be nothing more than a small rock breaching the sea surface. The voices were clear as day now, and they spoke:
“... So ye’re sure about this?” the first voice said. The Wogweh accent was like poison to her ears, but even frowning could potentially break her cover.
“Yeah, we gotta do it, R-... Rogan,” the other voice responded, and Woi’e knew it was Egoo, the last great warrior of the Elu that they knew of. The voice continued, “If we beat them down once and for all, we control the island. We won’t have to worry about being spread out too thin anymore.”
Roganweh clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Even so, their defense is too strong. Many will die in the fighting, son. This would’nae have happened if ye--”
“If we had taken time to gather more food during the fall, I know! Y’all have said that plenty of times. Don’t forget, raidin’ was your idea in the first place!”
There came a scoff. “Es not like we told ye ta be dependent on it. Now ye have poked the wolf too many times ta go back. The Wuhdige are angry and the seasons are changing.” A few steps in the sand. “Listen, son - ye don’t have to get yerself killed. Let them get overconfident ‘n come here. Let’s ambush them like last time.”
“We don’t have enough food to wait, Rogan. The trees are picked clean ‘n the seas are fish-free. Winter’s coming soon, like you said, and the only food left is at Hohm. No, we ain’t got time to wait for them to attack. We gotta hit ‘em with everything we got and steal everything they got. They won the last time, but they won’t win against all of us.”
There was another disapproving noise. “Suit yerself,” Roganweh muttered. “But the Wogweh won’t follow ye ta die in the spike ditches.”
“W-what?” Eloo gaped. “What do you mean, you won’t follow us?!”
“Exactly what that means, ye lump. If ye wanna raid the Wuhdige, fine - do it fer all I care. But I’m not havin’ a part in it.” Roganweh’s voice grew a little more distant. There came a furious growl.
“What about our deal, Loganweh?!”
“Es -Roganweh-! Ruh! Ruh!” the Wogweh retorted. “And ye don’t make the demands here, Eloo. Ye’re our vassal, not our ally. If ye get attacked, we’ll come back, but we’re not coming along just ta die - not after what happened last time we raided them.”
There came a thud in the sand. “But… But then how do we beat them?! You have half our boys!”
“We will have some food sent fer ye while ye wait. Maybe tomorrow - maybe in a week.” There came a snort and a clearing of the throat. “Ye should really be grateful fer the help we’ve given ye already. Ye control almost the whole south beach ‘n the Wuhdige are not even shades of what they were two years ago. That ye did’nae gather from the land while ye had the chance is yer own fault.”
A few more thuds hit the sand, likely fists. “You… Dumb-...”
“Careful now, Eloo,” Roganweh cautioned. “Remember who yer chieftain is - and remember his brother.”
Eventually, Eloo responded, “Yes, Roganweh.”
“Good. Wait here until they attack ye and ye can wipe them out as before. We’ll return ta Dun-ar-Wog ‘n prepare yer food fer ye.”
Footsteps disappeared into the night, then were quickly followed by louder, more disorganised footsteps, like a group making its way across the beach. Woi’e dared open her eyes and saw, merely seven or so metres away, the broken Eloo cursing at the sand while in the distance, half of the assembled forces made their way out to sea. The shieldboss nearly wanted to scream with joy, but focused every fiber in her being at remaining still. She heard muttering suddenly, and realised it was Eloo. The mutters grew louder:
“... Wait…? All we’ve done is wait…” Woi’e one open eye saw Eloo strike the sand once more. “No… To the depths with him - with all of ‘em. They think they’re better than us? They think we need them?” He rose up and kicked up a cloud of sand into the water, barely missing the frozen Woi’e. “I’ll show ‘em… The Elu’ll show ‘em all.” He stormed off towards his now very confused host and started barking orders at them. Not much later, the selka set off into the woods.
Woi’e couldn’t believe it. To think the Wogweh had abandoned the Elu’s mission for total control over the island, or at least abandoned them to carry it out on their own! It was almost too perfect. She held her breath. Could this actually be a trap? Had they seen them in the water earlier and proceeded to plant false information deliberately to make them overconfident? Woi’e swallowed. Eloo was perhaps not the sharpest spear on the rack, but Roganweh was something entirely different - arrogant, perhaps, but certainly capable. It wouldn’t be far-fetched for him to think of something like this.
A moment passed as she pondered. She could return to the others and tell them that the time to take the camp was now, and that if they were quick enough, they could ambush the Elu party that same night.
But, and it was a considerable but - what if the Wogweh would then come back and attack them from behind? Perhaps the wisest move would be to return to Hohm and notify them of the divide, perhaps even exploit Eloo’s overconfidence and eliminate the Elu forces from the equation entirely, then proceed to retake the island from the north? Either way, their plan from before was optional now. She swam back to the others.
“And they’re gone now?” Aloo whispered. Woi’e nodded. The warriors had taken the news with joy and glee, and already it seemed many were eager to storm the camp. Aloo, however, raised a hand as mutters became mumbles and mumbles became talk.
“Sshh. We ain’t so far away that they can’t hear us,” he whispered loudly. “Now, Woi’e, wha’chu think? This a trick?”
Woi’e exhaled some hot air and shook her head. “I-... I don’t know, chief. It could be either. They sounded real enough, but it’s too good.”
Aloo bit a finger. “We can’t wait, either. They said they would be back with food, right?”
“Right.”
“Darn… A’ight. Duhwah and the others can hold off an attack, no problem. The Elus are few now - no way they can break through. Their camp’s undefended, too, right?”
“Yeah, it looked that way.”
“So if we take it and make our way back to camp on land, worst that’ll happen is that the Elu’ll be gone when the Wogweh get back, right?”
Woi’e nodded slowly. “Riiiight, but--”
“Then we do that,” Aloo whispered smilingly. The others tried to contain their applause to small ripples in the water. Woi’e shook her head.
“We wanna keep what we take too, right? If we take land as we go home, the Wogweh will just sweep in and take it back. No, we gotta swim back.”
Aloo shook his head. “They won’t expect us to attack from behind. And if we kill ‘em all, they won’t have anyone to go back to.”
Woi’e’s mouth flattened out. Many of the warriors nodded in agreement. “Well,” said the shieldboss quietly.
“I say we do it,” said Aloo’s uncle Joku.
“Yeah!”
“Sssh! Keep our cover!” Aloo whispered loudly. “Woi’e, we agree?”
The shieldboss capitulated with a nod. While she didn’t like the idea of slaughter, she couldn’t argue that wiping the Elu out couldn’t solve their problem. The chieftain’s expression flashed a malicious grin and he raised his spear out of the water. The selka dove and made their way to shore.
Duhwah sat on a rock, resting his chin on a balled fist. He stared out across the sea and the beach, peeling his eyes at any anomalies in the waves or the trees that the dawn’s rays uncovered. Two days had passed since the war party left and the ceaseless itch of anxiety threatened to wear out the ageing selka’s heart. No one had come to attack them and no one from the outer camps had come screaming for aid. This only led him to fear that the chieftain had fallen prey to an ambush like the one two years ago. Aloo was young still and without an heir, and Tokkan was, well… It didn’t help either that the late Jotokan’s brothers and cousins all had gone with the chieftain. If they had been killed, a family other than the Tokuans would have to take the mantle as chieftain, and frankly, Duhwah doubted the tribe could sustain a battle of succession like that.
Those thoughts were pushed aside, however, for Duhwah soon spotted distant shapes on the sand. Hohm was impossible to attack from the forest - the cliff around which the camp was built was much too tall to climb down from, and it extended that way for just long enough that the forests on top, while good cover, could hardly be considered a proper place to ambush from. Therefore, any attack would either have to come from the sea or the beach. So when Duhwah saw these figures make their way across the beach, he called his retinue to arms. Before long, about twenty Wuhdige stood ready behind the spike ditches, over which had been built waist-high walls of packed sand. They weren’t much, Duhwah conceded, but they kept anyone from jumping the gap, and were therefore just enough. Still, they needed their bucklers to defend against ranged attacks.
However, as the forces drew closer, the retinue began to recognise them. Duhwah’s brother Dohn shouted, “Duh! They ain’t Elu! It’s the chief!” Duhwah rubbed his eyes and, as the warriors in the camp begun to cheer and applaud the approaching victors, Duhwah did indeed recognise the familiar grin of Aloo. Behind the chieftain walked Woi’e, who seemed less enthusiastic, though kept a polite smile. The war paints were neatly complemented by crusted blood on all the warriors’ pelts, and as they entered into the camp over a wooden bridge across the spike ditch, Aloo announced, “The Elu are gone!”
Thunderous applause broke out in the camp and selka embraced and kissed each other left and right. The warriors were picked up and thrown up and down like the champions they were. Aloo raised his blood-caked spear into the air and began to sing praised to Damasta, which many others joined in on. Promises of a great games tournament to celebrate were thrown about, and in the middle of the triumphant joy spreading through the camp, Duhwah went to Woi’e with a concerned smile on his lips.
“H-hey, Woi’e, what’re you sulkin’ for? We won!”
The shieldboss sat with her face in her hands and drew a quivering breath. “We… We killed them.”
Duhwah scoffed. “Well, ‘course you did. That’s what you sent out to do, right?”
“No, you don’t understand,” she whispered in a state of shock. “We killed all of them. They’re dead. Every single one of them.”
Duhwah’s smile faded a little and he let out an awkward ‘heh’. “W-well, they was the enemy, right? They deserve to--”
“And not just the boys, Duhwah - but the girls and the pups, too.”
Duhwah recoiled with a quiet gasp. He turned his head slightly and saw Aloo let out another war cry as he raised his spear to the sound of celebration.
“They-... They were like animals… And we slaughtered them like animals…” Woi’e looked down at her hands. She quickly ran over to the sea to wash them clean, but seemed to scrub and scratch long after the blood had come off. Duhwah took her by the shoulder and pulled her away. She stared at him in terror.
“Woi’e! Listen! You did-... You did your job, okay?”
“My job was… Killing pups, Duh?” she asked with a shrill voice.
“N-no! ‘Course not! But now the Elu are gone and… Well, we only have to worry ‘bout the Wogweh now. We’re… We’re safe thanks to your win.”
Woi’e looked back down at her hands, slowly opening and closing them. She sniffed and cleared her throat, and as she begun to whimper, Duhwah gave her a comforting hug. He shot another look back at his chieftain and prayed to the warm Alae that this would be the Wuhdige’s last encounter with war.
The shields turn the tide of battle completely and the Elu-Wogweh alliance suffer a devastating defeat during a raid. The Wuhdige decide to take the fight to them and start reconquering their island. Woi’e and Aloo lead a force to the Elu camp like before and when they get there, they find that the Elu and the Wogweh are having a bit of a fight. The Elu have become dependent on raiding since they didn’t harvest enough food during the autumn, and the Wogweh scold them for it and refuse to help them raid anymore after the defeat they suffered. The Elu are upset by this, but the Wogweh state that they see the Elu as little more than vassals and that they are to wait until the Wuhdige attack them instead so they can ambush them and crush them like last time. The Wogweh forces subsequently leave to get food for the Elu camp, though they are vague about when they’ll return. The Elu leader, Eloo, is unwilling to cooperate and takes his warriors to attack Hohm. The Wuhdige attackers are thrilled that their enemy is divided, but they wonder if it’s a strategy to make them overconfident. After some back and forth, Aloo decides that, even if the Wogweh come back to take their lands, they can take the opportunity to wipe out the Elu. Woi’e reluctantly agrees and the Elu are slaughtered down to the last selka off-screen.
The war party returns home to Hohm to thunderous applause, but Woi’e’s traumatised by the fact that she had to kill pups in addition to grown ups. Duhwah tries to reason that she was just doing her job as a warrior, but agrees that Aloo’s a bit fond of blood and hopes that this is the last encounter with war for a time.
A sorrowful year had passed since the fall of Jotokan. In all the years since arriving on Wuhdige Island, the selka had never known suffering akin to that which had plagued them on nearly a weekly basis for the past twelve or so months. The Elu, long since exiled from the tribe for their actions, had only solidified their hold on the southern half of the island. With the aid of their mysterious ally, they gained ground by the week. The Wuhdige territories had always expanded without an enemy in mind - there was no real force that could truly make a stand against attacks on the fringes of their land. Even as those very fringes closed in around the outer edges of Hohm, the Wuhdige forces struggled to stand up to the vicious Elu onslaught.
Luckily, the Wuhdige had not been idle since their last chieftain’s death: Surrounding the settlement of Hohm were deep ditches in the sand lined with sharpened sticks. Selka were poor jumpers, even while charging, so the pits made any assault against the Home Cave settlement fruitless - however, in order to sustain the settlement, the Wuhdige were forced to keep the seafront open, and attacks on fishermen and women were not uncommon.
Understaffed and exhausted, the shattered Wuhdige forces had long since lost any semblance of morale - rallying them to strike back was out of the question when even the thought of self-defense seemed offensive to them. The conscription of the females had helped considerably in the beginning, but occasional losses over time had begun to add up, and what had once been twice the numbers of the enemy had been reduced to equal.
Aloo, scarred and grizzled and without a shred of the childlike joy he had displayed no longer than a year ago, sat between Duhwah and Woi’e with his legs crossed. The “boy chief”, as he had been dubbed, had wasted no time since day one of his rule devoting his life to seeing the Elus and their allies slaughtered - he himself had sent plenty to the Spirit Birds. However, a single, or even a group of exceptional warriors could not change the tide of war, and while Aloo’s skill was greater than his father’s ever had been, Duhwah, and later Woi’e, had both realised that he was a killer, not a commander.
The problem was making him realise that.
Aloo pointed at the map before them. “They’ll be there by tonight. You two gather up the boys and girls and meet me at the bridge at sunset. Tonight, we’ll beat them back!”
This was an all-too-familiar speech at this point, and both Woi’e and Duhwah sighed in unison. Duhwah spoke first: “Chief, what boys and girls? They ain’t up for fighting - you remember what happened last time - we got absolutely crushed!”
“That was last time, Duh! This time will be different!”
The champion tightened his fists into balls and grit his teeth. “You know darn well it won’t, Chief. It’ll be exactly like before - like it’s been all year! We gonna run into the woods and they gonna pick us off one by one!” Aloo flared his nostrils and rocketed to his feet. He kicked a rock into the cave wall and sounded a bellowing roar. Woi’e flinched and kept her mouth pressed together to a close. Duhwah stood up and gave Aloo a stern glare.
“Face it, Aloo, we’re no good for attack. We should hunker down and pick them off as they attack our fishers.”
Aloo turned around and pointed a finger at Duhwah’s face. “That’ll take far too long! You know as well as I do that they get support from across the strait - new boys show up with spears in hand every month.” Aloo shook his head and sat down on a rock. Duhwah closed his eyes and took a few careful breaths.
“Never did I think I’d live to be one of the oldest in the tribe,” he mumbled, “but ain’t life somethin’... All the elders are dead ‘n the cubs ain’t growin’ nearly fast enough…”
Woi’e grumbled to herself. “Any attack gunna cost us a lot’a lives… Duh’s right, chief. We gotta hunker down.”
Aloo shot her a vicious glare. “Woi’e, you too? Am I surrounded by wussies?”
Duhwah snarled. “It ain’t wussy to think smart, Aloo! You should try it once!”
“What did you say, you ol’ lump?!” Aloo roared back and stood up. He reached Duhwah to the chin and was not even half his mass, but Duhwah could not strike him - even if the chieftain struck him. Aloo had abused this rule in the past and a boiling sensation within him seductively suggested doing so again.
“Chieftain!”
All three of them turned to the cave entrance. It was Julo. Over the past year, he, too, had grown scarred and grizzled, and his youthful handsomeness of the past existed no longer. His voice rang with worry and the three assumed only the worst.
“What? What’s up?” Aloo demanded, pushing his way past Duhwah.
“They coming for our fishers again,” Aloo reported. “A girl’s already been snatched up. The others are making their way back to the beach, but they can’t swim fast without dropping all the fish.”
Aloo nodded and grabbed his spear which rested by the cave mouth. “Tell them to safeguard the fish at all cost. We’ll hold them off. Duh, Woi’e - come on!” The chieftain charged out the cave, sounding mustering calls in all directions. Duhwah and Woi’e exchanged rivalling looks.
“You comin’?” the champion asked. The giant woman took her spear in hand and nodded with a sneer. “Gotta do my duty for the chief,” she said.
“For the chief, then,” Duhwah agreed sarcastically.
When the two arrived on the beach, the sea was already crimson with war. With water up to his waist, Aloo fought with the ferocity of a wolf and the strength of a bear despite his size. Around him laid the floating carcasses of four warriors, soon to be joined a fifth. Behind Aloo, however, the frontline was pushed back. Julo and four others were desperately holding off eight blue-painted warriors, and as Duhwah and Woi’e joined the fray, Julo had lost two of his warriors.
Duhwah and Woi’e turned the tide, however - with a deft, agile jab of his spear, the first of his opponents fell nigh instantly, pierced right in the liver. Woi’e grabbed her opponent’s spear tightly as he dove in to strike, then ripped it out of his hands and planted it solidly in the warrior’s neck. Slowly, but surely, the frontline recovered, and soon, the numbers were equal on both sides, then reducing on the enemy’s. However, by that time, Aloo had almost fought his way far out of range, and on the horizon, Duhwah saw the foam of another approaching force.
“ALOO!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, but the chieftain was too far lost in his bloodrage. Even as the sea grew too deep for Aloo to stand, however, the chieftain displayed the viciousness of an aquatic predator, diving deep and pinning his enemies on his bone-tipped spear from below. Still, no mortal boy could take on those reinforcements alone.
“Woi’e, hold my flank!” Duhwah shouted as he dove into the water.
“W-wait, what?!” Woi’e shouted back and was nearly pierced by an incoming jab from Duhwah’s previous opponent. In a powerful grab, Woi’e seized the spear again, snapped it in half and dove her own spear into the selka’s chest. The last of the first wave was subsequently killed by Julo.
“Wh-... Where did Duh go?” he panted and tried to wipe the blood off his forehead with a bloodier hand. Woi’e blinked at the approaching foam towards which Duhwah swam, and Aloo’s proximity to it.
“He’s going to save the chief… Hurry! Fetch some rocks and good throwers!”
“I’m goin’!” Julo shouted and sprinted off as fast as he could. Woi’e, meanwhile, began collecting leftover spears and javelins scattered around the beach.
Out at sea, Aloo glided through the water with his spear out front like the tooth of a narwhal. The raiders fell one by one, but one by one wasn’t nearly fast enough; in mere moments, the now red-furred chieftain was surrounded. He scowled at the surrounding adversaries, all of whom now held their spears ready to toss should the chieftain try anything. One of them swam a little closer and flashed Aloo a broad grin of sharpened teeth.
“Yer a wild one, laddie - wilder than any I’ve laid me eyes on before. What’s yer secret?”
The chieftain growled. “... Elu blood, and plenty of it.”
The stranger let out a single scoff. “Oh, esn’t that adorable. Ought to congratulate ye, though - you’ve had yer fill fer sure. Thanks to ye, ten Elus won’t feast happily with their families tonight. Hope yer proud o’ yerself.”
Aloo roared as menacingly as he could, but his developing throat still lacked the appropriate bass for that. “You and the Elus started this - don’t even begin to pretend otherwise! Why are you doing this?! Who even are you?!”
“Oof, it’s been a year already ‘n ye still don’t recognise us. Well, ‘tis been a couple o’ decades since our, what, great-grandparents split? Honestly, don’t ken, don’t care.”
“... What?” was all Aloo could manage. The stranger nodded.
“Aye, aye, come on - say it with me now…”
Aloo still looked uncertain and the stranger looked somewhat disappointed. “What, yer parents never told ye? How bloody disappointin’, no wonder ye never figured it out, then!” He punched the water surface angrily and a few of the surrounding warriors exchanged uncertain stares. The stranger gathered himself again and groaned. “Alright, fine - s’pose you’ve earned the knowledge fer yer killstreak. I’m Roganweh, brother ta chief Arganweh o’ the Wogweh tribe.”
Aloo blinked at the surrounding warriors again, carefully weighing his options. “... Loganweh?” he said uncertainly to entertain his adversary.
“Logan--... See, this is why I hate ye islanders: Ye can’t pronounce a damn thing! ‘Es Roganweh! Ruh! Rrruh!”
“Luh. Lllluh,” Aloo taunted with a smirk. The stranger scowled back.
“Now, see, here I was thinkin’ I’d take ye as a slave or somethin’ - who knows, ye might make a good pit fighter or somethin’. Yet here ye are, mockin’ me right in my face - makes me think there esn’t any reason to spare ye.”
Suddenly, Aloo noticed something: a dip in the waves coming from their beach. Thinking fast, he knew it to be the only one foolish enough to try to get him out of this mess. He flashed Roganweh another smirk and shrugged.
“Alright - have your way. I don’t even know what pit fighting is, but it sounds boring as counting pears.”
Roganweh bristled up at the statement. “Now ye lis’n here, laddie. Pit fightin’ is the finest game there is, ‘n if ye mock it in front of me one more ti--”
“Booooooooooooooring!” Aloo taunted again. Roganweh grit his teeth together and nodded at the warriors, all of whom began closing in around Aloo.
“Hey! Not gonna fight me yourself, you wuss?!” Aloo challenged. The foreigner shot him a sideways scowl.
“I don’t have time fer krill, ‘n yer below that. Say hello to the Seaking fer me.”
“Hah! I ain’t meetin’ the Spirit Bird tonight!” Aloo shouted and held his spear out. He looked to where he had seen Duhwah - the champion drew closer, but it was apparent that he hadn’t bought him enough time after all. His smirk faded as he weighed his options once more and found them all to be less than ideal.
The foreigner shot him a look. “Ah, right, the Elus did say somethin’ about those birds… We made certain they forgot about them soon after our alliance… No matter - the dead can’t be choosers, either way.” He turned to the warriors. “Take his corpse to Dun-ar-Wog - the chief’ll want somethin’ te sacrifice te Kirron.”
“Aye, boss,” one of them went and before long, Roganweh had dove beneath the waves along with two others.
Now, surrounded by six others, Aloo felt his odds improve. They were gravely mistaken if they thought they had him surrounded - at sea, he had an additional dimension he could move in.
However, just as he was about to dive, a lunge came from all six directions. He dodged five of them - a sixth embedded itself in his right leg. He screamed - or made an attempt to. The water kept it to a bubbling snarl and expended much of his air supply. A quick look upwards told him that his pursuers were gaining on him - with one leg down, his speed was severely reduced, even underwater. He cast a look to the side - where in the gods’ names was Duhwah?!
Then, above him again, the sea turned red. It was blurry and dark, but he saw in the shine of the Garden that Duhwah had finally caught up with him and his enemies, and were using the dark waters to make quick work of them. Aloo seized the opportunity to surface for a fresh breath, but on his way up, he noticed Duhwah seemed to the fighting a losing battle - tremendously so. In his heart stirred an urgency that ignored the need for air and sent the selka chieftain propelling towards his champion, spear leading on.
Duhwah, meanwhile, had the brute strength to deflect the blows coming for him, but lacked the dexterity to return any. Thus he was forced to draw further and further back, and he was running out of air. To his frustration, his attackers dared not get too close to him, opting instead for speared jabs. He was certain they knew that he would outclass them completely at an arm’s distance.
Then, just as a jab came a bit too close, one of the assailants was speared through the hip by Aloo coming in at a sideways angle. Duhwah cheered on the inside, but he saw the sluggish movements of his chieftain, and the crimson cloud around his leg. The fire of duty reignited within him, and even as he took a few jabs and cuts to his right arm, he managed to swim over and grab him, immediately thereafter taking him to the surface.
As the pair came back into open air, both the chieftain and the champion sucked in loud gasps of air. Aloo coughed something fierce, and Duhwah pounded him on the back.
“Chieftain, are you al--AGH!” A spear stabbed Duhwah through each of his calves before his assailants, too, had to breathe. They surfaced much too close to the champion, though, and even through the gruesome pains, Duhwah spun around with a snarl on his face and hammered one of the attackers with his fist with such strength that the selka passed out face down. His partner fared little better, for he could barely turn around before Duhwah gripped his neck and snapped it with a single hand.
Silence at last. There, floating among corpses, the pair felt the adrenaline fade and the pain consume them. Duhwah turned weakly towards the beach. During the battle, they had floated far away from the island. He turned the other way; they had almost swam closer to the mainland.
“H-hey… Chief?” Duhwah said weakly. Aloo still held on to him, but the grip was weak and his skin was paling, visible even through the fur. The champion turned in every direction, but it was hopeless. No one had come for them in the heat of battle.
Or so he thought, up until the champion looked up.
Like a second Lustrous Garden, an golden structure shaped like a very odd pear descended from the heavens on top of a circular stream of water that only seemed to feed itself. The champion kicked and paddled with his free limbs in spite of the agony to pull himself and the chieftain out of the way of the structure, but it seemed to be uncannily aware of exactly where they were. It landed neatly on the sea next to them and remained there calmly, like if a whale decided to take a nap on top of the water surface against all natural evidence. Duhwah eyed the structure with awe-struck eyes and shook the groggy chieftain.
“Look, Aloo! Look! It’s--.. It’s beautiful!”
The chieftain didn’t respond verbally, but his drowsy eyes fell upon the sight for a swift second before they closed again. Duhwah felt a pang of panic and looked up at the structure. He thought he saw some shapes onboard and called, “Help! Help! My chieftain is very hurt!”
For the following moment, he felt the terror of the possibility that they hadn’t heard him - or worse, didn’t care. However, as soon as that thought entered his mind, there came from the top of the structure two enormous limbs of… Water? Duhwah’s eyes once more snapped open in awe - this was the work of a god, for certain. Was it Lugo?
The limbs wrapped gently around the two of them and brought them onto a platform atop the structure’s middle section. They were gently put down and immediately surrounded by odd, sand-coloured shapes with even stranger pelts. They spoke in a terribly strange tongue, sounding almost like aggressive music, and began to clean and wrap the selkas’ wounds. Duhwah couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked at the surroundings and tried to make sense of the situation. He decided to ask, “Hi, uhm… Where--owch! Where are we? Who are you?”
The odd figures didn’t answer him, but a few gave him what looked like smiles if you imagined they had a snout, as well. He felt a bubbling anxiousness inside - while the care was most appreciated, he would at least like to know who his saviours were, as well as their intentions.
“Ah… To think I would actually experience a deus ex machina moment… Priceless.”
The deep, oily voice had caught Duhwah off guard and he rolled around looking for its source, much to the dismay of his physicians. They mumbled something to each other and the voice chuckled.
“Please, remain calm - my precious servants will see to it that you are bandaged and fed.”
Duhwah felt a rumble in his belly - it had been a while since his last proper meal. However, still curious as to who their saviour was, he once again asked, “Who, who are you?”
There came a quiet hum. “A sensible question - it is my first time seeing your kind as well, so I propose we exchange our identities to solidify the beginning of this new friendship?”
“... F-friendship?” Duhwah asked quietly.
“Why, of course! Any worthy mortal can consider itself a friend of Shengshi.”
The voice coloured in an imagine of a powerful character, and Duhwah soon laid his eyes upon a colossal creature whose scales glittered in the evening light like miniature stars. It had a bulk that even Duhwah could only dream of, and a stern, yet intrigued face adorned with a sly smile. Its body ended not in feet like his own, but instead balanced on a long, girthy tail. In all honesty, he was quite ugly to Duhwah, but simultaneously magnificent in so many other ways. The creature once more eyed Duhwah and Aloo up and down.
“Now, friends, may I know what and who you are?” Duhwah swallowed. He bowed his head as low as he could as he laid there on the floor. “I’m, uh, I’m Duhwah, champion of the Wuhdige tribe. That boy over there’s my chieftain, Aloo.”
The creature nodded. “Interesting. I reckon you must be the selka I have heard so much about. Tell me, what were you doing in the water so bloody and beaten? Would it have anything to do with the corpses down there, by any chance? Are they your allies?”
“No! Not at all,” Duhwah bellowed, making the creature raise an eyebrow. The champion calmed himself a bit. “Uh, sorry, friend Shengshi--”
“Your Lordship will do,” the creature interrupted in a polite manner.
“Your what-now?” the champion responded.
“Lordship,” the creature repeated. “It is a title - like chieftain.”
“Your… Lodoship,” the champion attempted. The creature frowned.
“Pronounciation difficulties, I see. No matter - since you have been deemed worthy, you are permitted to refer to me as ‘master’.”
Duhwah looked confused. “M-masta’.”
“Close enough,” the creature conceded. “Now, they were not your allies, judging from your reaction to my assumption. Were they raiders? Rivals?”
Duhwah hung his head. “Honestly, I don’t know, uh… They’ve been attacking us for nearly two years now - it all started when we kicked out the Elu family and--”
“So it is a family dispute?” the creature suggested.
“Yes! Or… No, we don’t know. They’ve got help, you see. Strangers we’ve never even seen. They don’t even talk like us - or, they do, but really weirdly.”
The creature hummed, sitting down on his coiled up tail. “So they are raiders that originally were part of this tribe of yours, and they have also received foreign reinforcements?”
“Yes, masta’,” Duhwah assured. “Our chief’s pretty reckless, so I had to swim out and save him. He held the raiders away from Hohm, but got himself pretty beaten for it.”
The creature nodded. “Your loyalty to your chieftain has not gone unnoticed, young Duhwah.”
The champion mumbled the word ‘young’ to himself before asking, “W-what loyalty?”
“Why, you came at his rescue at the risk of losing your life. I saw from high above that you swam quite far from the beach to save one who truly had overextended his assault. I can think of few other examples of such devotion to one’s master. You, Duhwah, are an exemplary servant.”
“Servant?” Duhwah asked weakly. The creature nodded.
“Indeed, Duhwah, and hear now that being a servant is not an ailment - in fact, to serve well and properly is a skill and a trait that can only be found in the finest of individuals. Individuals like you, for example,” the creature said with a grin and pointed at Duhwah’s blubbery chest.
The champion frowned. “U-uh… Was just doin’ my job.”
“And you did it well,” the creature boasted. “So well, in fact, that I will bestow upon you a gift - a gift for the whole tribe.”
As the master said so, a pair of the sand-skinned creatures came over to Duhwah and Aloo carrying shiny discs from which oozed a most heavenly fragrance. Duhwah felt his mouth water and even Aloo’s eyes groggily opened at the smell. Duhwah noticed and broke his eyes away from the food, turning instead to the chieftain. He crawled over to the dismay of his physicians again and lifted the chieftain’s torso gently.
“Chief! You alright?”
“Duh,” Aloo whispered weakly. “What’s that… that smell?”
“Hey, chief, we’re gonna be okay! The masta’ says he’s gonna help us out! He seems like a great guy.”
“I certainly hope so,” the creature mumbled a little sourly.
Aloo nodded slowly, his lips curving into a weak smile. “Good… Hey, Duh?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m… Sorry… I was a dumb-... Dumbass.”
Duhwah nodded sideways. “Yeah, kinda…” He snickered. “You’re still the chief, tho. Can you sit up?”
Aloo flexed his muscles a little and, with great strain, managed to keel forward, kept in balance by Duhwah and a number of servants. One of them came to Aloo with a disc in one hand and a pair of straight sticks in the other, and Duhwah watched with furrowed brows as the creature picked up food with the sticks and put it in Aloo’s mouth. He turned Shengshi with a curious look.
“Why doesn’t he use his hands?” he asked. “Hands are used for work, young Duhwah. During work, they grow dirty and rugged - they thus have no place near the mouth.”
The champion shrugged. “It’s worked out well for us so far.”
The creature smiled slyly. “Is that so? Not a single bellyache or case of gut disease?”
The champion rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, uh…”
The creature nodded. “I recommend at the very least to wash your hands before eating. Speaking of…” A pair of servants came over to Duhwah, took the chieftain out of his arms and laid him down carefully again and began to wash his hands with wet towels. The champion eyed the servants anxiously and turned to Shengshi, who nodded back.
“Please do not resist. I reckon you will be eating with your hands anyway, so I am taking precautions for you.”
Duhwah looked down at his hands - they hadn’t been this gray in a long time, and frankly, he liked them better with a little dirt on. It made his fur look more colourful. Nevertheless, he nodded as appreciately as he could and took his disc. He dipped his hands into all the foods on it, tasting the residues with increasing enthusiasm.
“This… This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he whispered. Shengshi chuckled.
“The kitchen of Jiangzhou offers only the finest, be it for gods or mortals. I would offer you some wine, but that may upset your blood clots a little.”
“Wine?” Duhwah asked.
“You will no doubt encounter it at some point. Now, as for the gift…”
“Aloo! He’s coming to!” Duhwah exclaimed.
“Right, I suppose we are waiting, then,” Shengshi muttered to himself.
Aloo’s eyes were still barely open and his breathing was weak, but at least now he sat by himself. He shook his head in an almost drunken manner. “Duhwah…”
The champion shuffled closer again. “What is it, chief? I’m here, bro.”
“The friends of our enemies… They call themselves Wogweh… Know what that is?”
Duhwah’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in a breath. “So that’s what happened to them, huh…”
“Has the identity of this mystery foe been uncovered, then?” Shengshi asked absent-mindedly.
Duhwah wolfed down the rest of his food and hummed pensively as he chewed. “Way back in the day, ol’ gramps used to tell us about the first Wuhdige… Tokuan, Agoh, Yupa, Elu, Dondweh and Wogweh. All six tribes went along from the First Beach, but when we was about to swim over to Wuhdige island, the Wogweh backed out and stayed on the mainland… Haven’t seen ‘em since.”
“Any clue as to why they allied with your enemies?” the snake asked the two.
Aloo took another bite of food and swallowed it whole. “... Dunno. He said somethin’ about pit fiightin’ and slaves… Whatever those are.” Duhwah shrugged, too, but the snake hummed in understanding.
“A society built on slavery, I see…” The god turned towards the mainland, where in the dark, faint flickers of flame could be spotted, even with mortal eyes. He nodded to himself. “... I reckon they are raiding your settlement to capture your people and plunder your resources. Has anyone gone missing since their attacks begun?”
The two selka looked at each other. “Now that you mention it,” Duhwah mumbled. Shengshi nodded again.
“A slaver society is not ideal, but sadly, quite a simple solution to a lot of the problems plaguing young civilisations. I reckon you have struggled before with worker and soldier morale?”
“Struggling right now, actually,” Aloo muttered, inciting a short-lived frown from Duhwah. The snake nodded yet again.
“With slavery, you can avoid the morale problem by seeing the workers and soldiers as property, not lives. They can be treated like insects, if the master wishes, killed or spared at the mere snap of a finger. Pit fighting may share similar traits - it describes a situation where warriors are put in a small arena and set to fight one another to death, often as entertainment for others.”
Duhwah grimaced. “Who would wanna watch other people die?”
“If it’s Elu,” Aloo began to suggest until a deathglare from Duhwah put him off it.
“A soul driven by vengeance, I see,” the snake muttered disapprovingly and pointed a clawed finger at the chieftain. “You should learn from your servant, young Aloo - a reckless master invites only his own death.”
Aloo stood as frozen, though he personally could not quite understand why. Maybe it was the actual menacing shape of the creature before him, or the tremours that his voice sent through what felt like the very fabric of existence.
“So… What should I do, then, masta’?” the chieftain asked.
“Seek council with this man. Age is often a sign of experience, and this man is many years your senior. Now, to change the subject yet again, I must ask what you wish as a gift for your people, young champion,” said Shengshi and turned back to Duhwah with a slightly impatient smile.
Duhwah turned to Aloo and shrugged. “W-well, see… We ain’t sure. Can it be anything?”
“Anything that can be considered a gift, yes.”
“Can we wish the Elu away?!” Aloo asked loudly.
“What did I just say, little mortal?” Shengshi snapped back and Aloo seemed to shrink into nothing. He then turned back to Duhwah. “I will not exterminate a whole society for you, no. Meddling with mortal conflicts upsets the harmony of the universe.”
“Then… Can we have some tools that will help us defeat them, at least? Keep them off our island?” Duhwah asked.
The snake furrowed his brow. “You looked as though you had not eaten for a week just a minute ago. Are you certain you should not wish for an abundance of food for your people?”
Duhwah shot Aloo a glance and nodded. “We only go hungry ‘cuz the Elu and Wogweh keep stealin’ our food. If we had the means of defendin’ ourselves, we could retake the fishing grounds and pear forests.”
The snake scratched his chin in thought, then eventually nodded. “Very well, then. You shall have your tools of war. What is the weapon of your foe?”
“They, uh… Mostly use spears and clubs, I think.”
The snake nodded. “I see. To counter jabs and slams, you need a proper tool of defense.” He eyed the island in the distance with a thoughtful expression. “Tell me, do you have any oxen on your island?”
“Any what?”
“Thought not. How about tall grass?”
“Like reeds?”
“That will do,” the snake said. Suddenly, the massive structure upon which they stood turned towards the Wuhdige beach. Once there, the chieftain and the champion were set down on the beach by two giant water limbs, much to the awe of the Wuhdige onlookers. After them came the snake. He raised his hands in a welcoming gesture and bellowed, “All selka of the Wuhdige tribe - I am the Master, Shengshi, and at the request of your champion, I have been tasked with providing tools of defense against the foreign invaders.”
The selka seemingly didn’t quite know how to react. Shengshi sighed. “You’re used to this by now… Pretend they’re awestruck. Yes… Yes, you are awestriking,” he mumbled to himself with a smirk. Duhwah and Aloo looked at him curiously and shrugged at each other.
Then, as the snake raised his hands again, a two pine trees at the far back of the Hohm camp, which had served as a backdrop for decades by now, all uprooted and soared over to Shengshi with a mighty speed. There, they landed with a loud thump to the sound of Wuhdige “waaahs”.
“To counter the enemy onslaught, mortals, I will fashion you shields out of wood. These will be a little heavy, yes, but they will hold firmly against any weapon the enemy can use against you.”
The Wuhdige looked at one another and in the crowd, one hand was raised.
“Yes?” Shengshi went.
“What’s a shield?” came a voice. The snake sighed.
“Hold on a minute. I will show you.” He twisted his hand, and as if the tree was putty for a moment, a globule of wood floated out of the trunk and moulded itself into a round buckler suitable for a selka. He took a dead fish from the beach and turned its skin into straps and strapped it onto his oversized arm.
“This shield, hold on, it’s a little tight… It will serve as a wall between you and the enemy’s strike. If they come at you with a club, deflect it with this and use your other hand to strike back. A spear will get stuck or bounce off - seize the opportunity and strike them dead.”
The surrounding Wuhdige eyed the shield with awe and confusion. Shengshi rolled his eyes discreetly and handed the shield to Duhwah. “How does it feel?”
Duhwah strapped it on and swung his arm about, nearly losing balance on account of his wounded legs. “It’s a bit heavy.”
“Good,” Shengshi said. “That means it’ll withstand plenty of strikes.” He proceeded to make enough discs for all the warriors of the tribe, and all forty of them lined up to each receive their own slice of wood strapped with fish skin. The selka stood scattered around on the beach, all testing and trying out their fresh equipment. Some picked up clubs and began to practice; others picked up spears and tried to wield that and the shield simultaneously. As they practiced a manner mixed between clumsy and crafty, the snake could not help but snicker to himself. He took the moment to climb back aboard his ship and look down at the ever-learning warriors.
“He Bo?”
“Yes, Your Lordship?” the head servant answered diligently.
“I think we will move further inland. These selka truly are something else.”
After about a day of practice, the selka were tired and at least a little wiser. Duhwah and Aloo gathered everyone on the beach, many taking in the strange sight of the odd wrapping about their legs. Aloo limped forward with some support from his brother Tokkan.
“Wuhdige! We’ve finally gotten an edge in the fight! But we won’t attack just yet.” The selka looked at one another and Aloo sucked in a breath. “I’ve been a bad, bad chief, and driven y’all darn hard - harder than I shoulda. Y’all get a break for the night. Me and Duh’ll be watching the beach.”
Relieved laughter and cheers exploded from the crowds with unexpected loudness and many simply laid down in the sand to sleep. Duhwah and Aloo chuckled.
“So, Duh, what was the name of that god again?”
“Oh, uh… The masta.”
“Damasta?”
“Yeah, yeah, that was it, I think.”
“Huh. Damasta, huh? Well, better get working on his shrine. After the others nap, of course.”
“After the nap.”
One year’s past since the last post. Raiders are attacking and Aloo’s gone all Kratos on the Elu, so he kills them whenever possible. Duhwah and Woi’e don’t like this, but since Aloo’s chief, they can’t really do anything about it. Aloo gets caught in the open and meets the enemy commander, Roganweh of the Wogweh tribe (one of the original six Wuhdige tribes, see first post for the 0 backstory they’ve gotten before) from the mainland. Wogweh’s a slave despot tribe, and Roganweh hints that they enslave people, have pitfights and sacrifice life selka to Kirron. He then leaves Aloo to be killed by his men after Aloo taunts him, but Duhwah comes to the (sorta) rescue and the two nearly fight their way out. Then Shengshi shows up in a deus ex machina moment and takes the two selka on board. He has his servants dress their wounds and feet them and then offers Duhwah a gift for being loyal to his duty to protect the chief. Duhwah asks for some tools to help them in the fight, so Sheng gives them wooden shields. The selka train with them a bit and then go napping. Also, because the selka called Shengshi ‘the master’, his god name to them is Damasta.
Shengshi start: 0MP/3FP 1FP - Give the selka fifty wooden shields. Shengshi after 0MP/2FP
Wenbo knew not quite how long he had walked. The meadows and fields had sort of floated by, much like the lazy clouds above, until his aching feet brought him to the familiar hilltop. An itch gnawed at his cheek and he raised a pair of fingers to sate it. As he pulled away, he noticed a moist, chilling sensation on them - he was apparently in tears. With a snort and a few blinks, he rubbed the moisture out of his eyes. Covering one of them in a facepalming manner, his other, orange-ringed eye fell on a small dent in the flower patches. He sighed to himself and sat himself down in the dent, plucking for himself a small straw to chew on. He surveyed the landscape:
As far as his eyes could see, flowers and grasses of a thousand different shades and colours bloomed and thrived, reflecting the light of heaven in the form of a rainbow of beauty and life. Insects buzzed sweetly from petal to petal and had sweet little debates about the mathematical perfection of hexagonal structures in beeswax. The crops throughout the valleys he could see all danced with the breeze in sweet idyll. Even the trees, in spite of their wooden appearance, seemed to enjoy themselves.
Perhaps he truly was insane. How could he consider leaving a place like this? All for… For something they always had had. He rested his forehead in his palm and groaned quietly. He had made such a fool out of himself in front of everyone - in front of K’nell!
How could he face them now?
His eyes ran down the side of the hill and fell upon his house. From his angle, he could just barely see the far edge of the shrine wall.
It wouldn’t be easy. One does not simply decline a divine request - especially not from his mother’s creator. He would need a reason; a single ‘no’ would be much too impolite.
Chagatai had the right idea: The truth prevails, always.
He put his palms on the ground to push himself up, but stopped. Could he truly do this? Denying the great Shengshi His wish? What would happen to him if he did? What would happen to his family? His future? His people’s future?
He intertwined his fingers together in his lap and closed his eyes with a sigh. They had everything here - safety, food, family. Here, on their ancestral land of Tendlepog, they had a life…
Except…
His eyes gazed skyward. He could not help but wonder if there existed others creatures out there, beyond the cliffs and the endless blue sea, or if that perhaps was the reason they had been summoned.
Did the Dreamers even look up at the same sky as the rest of the world did? If so, did it look the same all over the world?
Wenbo had subconsciously laid himself down in the grass, his eyes gazing unmovingly at the heavens above. Was there grass elsewhere in the world? Did the land feel the same to his feet on as it did here?
He took out the walnut-sized stalkplum from the fold in his robe. Did they grow elsewhere, too, outside of Tendlepog?
As his mind fell deeper and deeper into the well of though, his eyelids grew heavy and before long, Wenbo had fallen asleep.
“Hey... Wenbo?”
Wenbo’s eyes snapped open and he sat up much like the swing of a catapult arm. He took a few startled breaths and scanned the surroundings. The familiar hills had been cast in the crimson of sunset, and tall trees cast even greater shade across the drowsy plains. However, something was off.
Very off.
Wenbo lifted his hands off the grass. They were wrinkled and dripping, as if he had kept them underwater for hours. He then noticed that he was indeed sitting up to his hips in deep, black water. He scurried to his feet, but found himself unable to move them. With frustrated groans, he rolled over and began to claw his way towards higher ground, but the further he climbed, the more clearly he saw what held him back: A thousand hands gripped his ankles tightly. The air reeked sharply of rot and salt, and as his struggles waned, his groans were deafened by thundering waves breaking upon approaching cliffs.
Wenbo dared look over his shoulder as the horizon cast him over the moving mountains, past the endless dunes of sand, and onto the giant cliffs above the sea. He was suddenly completely dry - much too dry, in fact. His skin began to shrivel and blister before his eyes, the wounds spurting forth squirts of wet sand. Soon enough, his limbs turned from muscle and bone to water and sand, and before him spawned an enormous, snake-like beast of pure gold. Wenbo swallowed, his new watery form making that particularly hard, and the beast gave him a bow. Wenbo bowed back.
“Wenbo!”
Wenbo turned around. He saw his house before the rising dawn, red, white and yellow rays bathing the humble shack in enough light to nearly set it aflame. Wenbo reached out to push aside the curtain in the doorway, and the house approached and obliged. As he stepped inside, the house expanded immensely, until Wenbo was the size of a flea in comparison. All the furniture disappeared. All that remained inside was himself - alone. Then he became just tall enough to reach a basket that was conveniently placed on top of the nearby moving mountain. Wenbo opened the basket and peaked inside to find that it contained his entire family, all smiling lovingly at him.
Wenbo felt a pang in his chest and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. A single tear dropped into the basket and the scenery changed again, this time to a completely circular pond, next to which sat a two-horned snake and a white skin ball with a creepy smile drawn on it in charcoal. Wenbo found himself standing next to the snake and the ball and gave them each a curious look. The ball gave him a wink. “Do you?” it asked.
“Do I what?”
“A THOUSAND FAMILIES!” the snake suddenly screamed at the top of its little lungs, nearly sending Wenbo into orbit. He did come pretty close, though, and as Wenbo drifted there above the clouds, he felt suddenly a soft, icky sensation eel its way across his cheek. Before him, a cloud metamorphosed into an eye, which then split into two eyes and flew above Wenbo to stare down at him.
“Are you even listening?” the eyes asked.
Wenbo frowned. “Am I--”
SMACK!
Wenbo snapped his eyes open yet again, only this time his hands were considerably drier while not quite having reached the consistency of quoll jerky. His head rubbernecked about in several directions, taking multiple tries before noticing the frown above him.
“Oh. Sorry, I fell asleep,” Wenbo said with a weak smile.
“I could tell,” Ai replied with a sigh. She patted the grass and flowers next to her husband and sat herself down beside him, staring forward at the horizon. Wenbo snorted with a wrinkle of the nose and twiddled his thumbs together.
“So…” he eventually said. “How was the feast?”
“It was great. We missed you a great deal,” Ai replied monotonously. Wenbo swallowed.
“Th-that’s good to hear. I’m sorry I didn’t come. I--”
“Had to go sulk?”
“I was going to say ‘think’, dear.” Ai scoffed. “Like you thought your speech through?”
Wenbo deflated. “Ai, could you please avoid bringing that up--”
Ai held up a finger and Wenbo quieted down instantly. “No. No, I don’t think I will. What happened, Wenbo? You presented it so well to us. What changed? Crowds have never been a problem for you before. Was it God’s presence?”
Wenbo sucked in a breath and looked sideways. Ai nodded. “Alright. So now that you’re name’s sullied and you have been portrayed as a selfish fool, what will you do?”
“I’m not selfish!”
“Well, you sure sounded that way!” Ai gestured in the direction she had come from. “Everyone there thinks that the only reason you want to leave is to go on some childish, reckless adventure - and that those who go along will forever be shut off from their homes, they families, their futures.”
“Ai, you--...” Wenbo pulled some desperate breaths. “You believe me, right? You believe me when I say I want to leave not just for the wonders, but for the good of our family - our people?”
Ai looked away. Wenbo took her hand. “Ai, please.”
“We already have it well here… What could there possibly be outside that we don’t have here?”
“Ai, can’t you feel it? Tendlepog is safe and, and beautiful, but… We’re not free here.”
Ai frowned. “What do you mean? Of course, we are.”
Wenbo shook his head. “I should rephrase that - we are free here, but not free to go anywhere but here.” Ai’s frown faded a little and Wenbo gestured to the distant, dark mountains. “Look, beyond those lazily drifting tops, there is nothing but endless desert - it’s impossible to pass through without the Warden’s consent, and he only answers to God.” He then gestured to the opposite direction. “Then there’s the Forbidden Forest, which we are not allowed to enter. We have ourselves a space in between.”
“Our space is massive, Wenbo! You have never even seen the other side of the continent!”
Wenbo nodded. “You’re right. I haven’t, and if I explored my whole life, I certainly wouldn’t be able to see it all… But what about my children, and their children, and their children’s children. How many generations will pass before all of Tendlepog is explored?”
Ai took his hands in her own. “All too many, Wenbo - you’re thinking about hundreds, if not thousands of years from now! Are you really so sick of this land that you want to go out into a spiteful, unloving wilderness we only know from stories? Mom and mother probably even altered those stories to make them seem less gruesome!”
Wenbo looked to be digging desperately for a proper retort, but the look in Ai’s tired eyes shut him up. He hung his head forward and caressed his wife’s hand absent-mindedly. Ai, too, let out an exhausted sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. For a long while, they sat in silence, disturbed only by beautiful birdsong, which Wenbo was a bit sad to realise was quite an intense lover’s quarrel.
As the seconds turned into minutes, and the sunset grew ever dimmer, Wenbo asked, “Do you remember the first time we came here?”
Ai let out a single snore and smacked her lips a little. “Sorry, I must’ve dozed off. Did you say anything?”
Wenbo gave her a smile and planted a soft peck on the top of her head. “I asked if you remember the first time we came here?”
Ai let out a soft “oh” and made herself comfortable on his shoulder once more. “I do - quite clearly, as a matter of fact. I was sixteen and had only just come back from our trip to the clay pits. You asked me to meet you here, and when I came, you presented me with this necklace.” She patted a bluestone-tipped necklace around her neck, strung with a length of woolen thread. She then looked up and kissed him on the cheek. “Then you asked me to marry you.”
Wenbo giggled triumphantly to himself. “You have no idea how nervous I was. I had climbed mountain walls, snuck into the Forbidden Forest, confronted mother - but none of it had ever made me as scared or nervous as that moment did.” He hooked an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. “But I owe that moment everything - my children, my house, my fields… All exist because you were there.”
Ai blinked and giggled. “Is flattery your new strategy, great Thinker?”
“No, I’m serious, Ai - without you, I… I would be entirely different; my life would be entirely different.”
Ai snickered. “Yeah, you would’ve ended up with Bayarmaa instead.”
Wenbo rolled his eyes playfully. “I would’ve, yes, but didn’t - ‘cause she was much too outclassed by--” He poked her nose and pecked her on the cheek. “You.”
Once more, Ai giggled, and despite her ageing appearance, Wenbo only saw the smile of the beauty from the decades past. She collected herself again. “Alright, out with it. What’re you trying to get at? Are you trying to flatter me into going off on that wacky adventure with you? Because my mind is set in that regard.”
Wenbo nodded slowly. “I know… And that’s what hurts the most about the whole thing, really.”
Ai’s smile faded a little and her brows furrowed together. “Heh. What do you mean by that?”
Wenbo sucked in a slow breath. “Life here on Tendlepog really only has any value to me because of you and my family… Chagatai… Li… Temüjin… Bayarmaa… The paradise we are surrounded by is beautiful, idyllic.” He then shook his head slowly. “However, the shock of leaving that behind cannot even begin to compare to that of who I would be leaving.”
Ai narrowed her eyes and pulled away from Wenbo’s shoulder. “You’re… You’re going all the same, aren’t you?”
Wenbo didn’t look back at her, but kept his eyes looking forward at nothing in particular. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m going.”
Ai’s face drained of what little colour it had and her black eyes began to glisten with moisture despite the evening darkness. She pulled her knees to her torso and wrapped her arms around them. “You’ve always been like this.”
Wenbo nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Ai, I--”
“No! No, you’ve always been like this! You’ve always gone out on crazy, stupid adventures with your brother, or with our son, or even on your own - and every time, you’ve come home either bloody or broken or gods know what else!” Ai stood up and Wenbo reached out to her.
“Ai, I--”
“But you’ve always come home!” Ai sobbed loudly and Wenbo pulled back. His wife dragged the tears out of her eyes with the back of her sleeve and grit her teeth together. “Every single time, you’ve come home to me - but this time, that’s not possible!” She kept rubbing her eyes as if drying up a deluge. “How can you do this to me, Wen-Wen? Your own wife?”
Wenbo grit his own teeth and stood up. “Ai, it’s because I need to see the world! It’s like God said, it, it’s in my blood!”
“No, Wenbo! You belong here - with me.” Ai shuffled over and embraced the frowning Wenbo. “With all of us…”
Wenbo sighed and embraced her back. “Ai, don’t-... Don’t make this harder than it alread--”
“I won’t let you - what part of that don’t you understand?!” She glared tearfully into his eyes.
“I don’t care! If you’re not coming with me, then, then--!”
Ai’s glare immediately became a shocked gape. She clung tighter to the folds of Wenbo’s robe. “Then what? Then what?!”
Wenbo himself was now desperately holding back tears, and utterly failing. He took Ai’s hands by the wrists and calmly pulled them away from his robe, Ai staring in disbelief all the while. He shot a look down the hillside where the Garden shone a bleak light onto the roof of his cabin. He looked back at Ai, who shook her head at him.
“Don’t… Please don’t,” she begged.
Wenbo let go of her wrists and set off into a sprint down the hill. As he ran, he heard Ai screaming his name after him, tears clogging up her throat on multiple occasions. He could not let that stop him now - he would see the world beyond; he would see all of it; he would--
He slipped on the dew-moistened grass and crashed into the mud. Behind him, he heard approaching footsteps. He rushed back to his feet and kept running. A pain stung him. His leg - it bled. He cursed under his breath, but nonetheless persevered towards the wall of shrines.
“Wenbo!” he heard from behind. It stung worse than the pain, but he kept up his accelerated limp. He could see it clearly now - the shrine to Shengshi. Once he reached it and said his prayer, it would be done. He would be in His hands and due for transport upon His arrival. He knelt down beside the shrine and folded his hands.
“O blessed Sheng--”
Ai tackled him to the ground. Wenbo struggled, but his wife planted a well-placed smack on his cheek that very nearly knocked him out cold. As he weakly shook his head to recover, Ai grabbed him by the folds of his robe and lifted him up a little, her alabaster hair hanging down over his face.
“Are you insane?!” she bellowed straight at his face. Wenbo didn’t answer. Ai adjusted her position a little to regain balance and accidentally planted her knee on Wenbo’s wound, inciting a sharp groan. The rage in Ai’s face subsided and she looked down at the bloody bruise. She then pressed her lips together and sniffed. “Look at you… Can’t even run fifty feet without getting yourself hurt.” Ai shot the shrine to Shengshi a look and then shot one at Wenbo as well.
“Don’t you even dare to move,” she snapped. Then she stood up and walked inside their shack. Wenbo laid in the moist grass, still recovering from the blow. He snorted and realised he was tasting blood. The outside world truly had nothing on Ai when it came to danger.
She came out the house again, carrying a small pot of salves and a roll of woolen bandages. As she bandaged Wenbo’s leg, the ageing dreamer let out a relieved sigh. “... I wouldn’t even last a day out there, would I?”
“Doubt it,” Ai teased. She tied the bandage together tightly and poked at it until Wenbo groaned for her to stop. She gave him a weak, slightly sadistic smile and looked back at the shrine. “You’re really that set on going, huh?” she said somberly.
Wenbo sat himself up and sighed. “Yeah… Sorry, Ai, but you can’t stop me.”
She shook her head. “That snapping stubbornness of yours is going to be the death of you, I swear…” She sucked in a breath and paused for a long time, so long that Wenbo thought she had started crying again. However, eventually, she let out a single word: “Fine.”
Wenbo frowned. “Fine what?”
“Fine. I’ll go with you.”
Wenbo furrowed his brow. “Ai, are you serious?”
“When am I not?” she retorted. Wenbo took her hand in his own.
“You know as well as I do what you will be leaving behind - what’s at stake.”
“Yes, I know that perfectly well.”
Wenbo glared at her. “You’ve spent all evening scolding me for my choice to leave, and now you suddenly change your mind? What, after I get a little bruised--ow!”
Ai poked him on the wound again and Wenbo shut himself up. “Oh, don’t think for a second that I’m taking any of that back. I am furious, livid that you’re going through with this. Still…” She pursed her lips. “... What would my life be without you?”
Wenbo drew a quivering breath. “I…”
“No, I won’t give you a say in this, either. If you’re so snapping determined to leave me behind, then I might as well come with you. I am your wife; if I don’t support you in this, who will?”
Wenbo looked away sheepishly. “That’s a little cold.”
“Well, boo-hoo, it’s the truth,” Ai replied snarkily. “Now, tell Shengshi you accept.”
Wenbo nodded with a wry frown. “He prefers ‘His Lordship’, actually.” Ai rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure he does.”
Wenbo made a face and crawled over to the nearby shrine. He cleaned himself up the best he could, shuffled his knees into a proper stance with some wincing due to the cut, and bent his head. “Great Lord Shengshi… This servant Wenbo has made a decision on His Lordship’s magnificent proposal.”
For a moment, there was no response. Ai peeked over his shoulder at the shrine. “Consider being a little more sincere. You’re being unnecessarily humble.”
Wenbo waved for her to quiet down. “Trust me, He prefers it that way.”
As soon as he finished, a warmth embraced the two, characterised with a dense humidity and a faint scent of chlorophyll. A liquid sound trickled in the background, along with a few plucks on what they could only guess was the string of a harp.
“... Aaah… Wenbo. After all these weeks, I was beginning to think you were not going to call me at all.” The deep, oily voice of the snake felt as though it came from every direction simultaneously. Ai had assumed a personality completely opposite of the one before - now, she appeared to be cowering behind Wenbo. The voice took note.
“This must be your wife - oh, I am so glad Xiaoli introduced to you all my little marriage experiment. Tell me, dear, what is your name?”
Ai looked at the shrine with a frozen expression. The clay bowl of river water looked back with oppressive interest. She felt fear clog up the words in her throat, another thing the voice took note of, remarked with a sigh.
“See, Wenbo, this is what I told you about before - most mortals simply freeze up when they are first exposed to a divine voice. It is so inconvenient…”
“Ai, Your Lordship,” she finally managed. “I’m Ai.”
There came a monotonous hum. “Try again.”
“Wha…?”
“Like I did,” Wenbo whispered loudly. “Like mother taught us.”
Ai mouthed a ‘really’, to which the voice responded. “Really.” She swallowed and once again began to unclog her throat. “Th-this servant is named Ai, Y-your Lordship,” she eventually said.
There came an audible nod. “Very good, very good. Oh, you two certainly make a lovely couple. I simply cannot wait to see the little children, as well! I have already found you a perfect spot, far to the south. It is out of the worst heat and very much safe from all manners of attacks. It will simply be perfect for you.”
Wenbo gave Ai a sheepish look. There came another hum, slightly disappointed in nature. “I sense that you are about to suggest some alterations to my proposal.” Wenbo took a breath, failed to formulate a sentence, then took another. “Your Lordship - this servant failed to convince the others of the grandeur of His Lordship’s proposal. If this one may be so frank, many believe the gifts offered do not outweigh the dangers of the outside world. Much of what His Lordship promised, the Dreamers are already accustomed to.”
The voice was silent. Wenbo continued. “No dreamer has known a day of starvation in their lives so far; no dreamer thirsts for neither water nor wine; and no dreamer is short on wealth. Tendlepog is, to most, a paradise.”
There came a quiet hiss and an invisible, oppressive glare bore down on the two. Still, there was no rage in the voice when it spoke, “I see… I will be honest, I had not expected the living standards there to be so… Well, perfect. Then again, my dearest brother K’nell is a crafty fellow.” The voice hummed for so long it began to sound like purring. Wenbo and Ai exchanged terrified looks. Then the hums stopped.
“Oh, very well,” the snake said eventually. “I will grant any who come with me another blessing. In addition to everything mentioned before (the wealth, the crops and all that), I will bestow upon you one more favour.”
Ai and Wenbo looked at the incorporeal eyes expectantly. The voice then went, “... What is it that you are missing?”
Wenbo looked to Ai, who nodded reassuringly back. “Well,” he said, “when we suggested leaving, God came to us and warned us that it is possible that, if we leave, we may never return. In a sense, we are, well, trapped here.”
“Being trapped in paradise cannot be so bad?” the voice suggested a little sarcastically.
“No, no - it isn’t - but we’re still trapped,” Wenbo insisted. “Sure, we can walk Tendlepog for eternity and never explore or populate it fully, but we can never leave and see the wonders of the outside world - and if we do, we may never return to see our loved ones.”
The snake hummed in understanding. “So it is freedom you want?”
Wenbo nodded. “We want to be able to go wherever we want, whenever we want. We want to explore, see the world, and live as inhabitants of this universe, not as people of a continent.”
“I see… Would flight satisfy your needs?”
Wenbo looked at Ai, who shook her head. “Your Lordship is most generous; however, flight alone may only scratch part of the itch.”
The snake hummed inquisitively. “Go on.”
“His Lordship sees the bonds we tie with our families and friends. We would like to travel the world without sacrificing those bonds. All Dreamers should travel as one great flock, migrating from land to land as one great family - exploring in the day and telling stories around a fire at night.”
The snake hissed pensively. “I see… So any solution that lets all Dreamers travel freely as one across great distances would be satisfactory?”
“Travel comfortably,” Ai added. The snake clicked his tongue in a surly manner.
“Alright, be orderly, please. Do not interject your demands so rashly. Very well, though - travel comfortably, you shall. Anything else you would like this solution to incorporate?”
“If His Lordship could let us travel the land as well as the sea using this solution, these servants would be incredibly grateful,” Wenbo added.
“Gratitude will be expected for certain,” the snake muttered. “I take it you would prefer sustenance, shelter, water and safety to be included as well?”
“Does His Lordship really mean that?” Ai asked.
“Of course, I mean it,” Shengshi retorted. “I hope you are not assuming I am only doing this for myself.”
They both waved their hands. “Of course not, Your Lordship!” Wenbo and Ai assured in unison.
“Good,” the voice hissed. “I suppose I now have to remove the clause regarding permanent settlement, as well…” Shengshi muttered quietly to himself. “No matter. I shall change it to this: In return for my gift, your settlement shall forever be loyal to me. Not a day shall pass without prayer, and once every three moons, you shall sacrifice to me a small portion of your harvest. Do this, and the gift, in addition to all aforementioned blessings, are yours. Tell your people of these new terms and see if they are more inclined to come.”
Wenbo and Ai nodded slowly. “Of course, Your Lordship,” Wenbo said. “But… What if they still won’t listen?”
Shengshi sighed. “Then I will make due with those that do. As long as I have two specimen of separate genders, it will be enough. However, a more natural migration is preferred - for both you and me.”
Ai placed a hand on her abdomen and shook her head at Wenbo. “We shall do our best to at least bring along our own family, then, Your Lordship,” Wenbo promised.
“That is good. Make certain it is not by force, though - I reckon my brother already has shared his thoughts on that subject.” “Of course, Your Lordship,” Wenbo assured.
“Well, then - best of luck… My grandchildren.” They could nearly feel a cosmic blink as the voice disappeared. Wenbo looked at Ai, who was still in recovery behind his back.
“Hey, you alright?”
Ai blinked a few times and gave him a weak frown. “Y-yeah… Wow, I understand now why you were so enthusiastic after the first time he had talked to you. His presence is so… Different from God’s.”
“Yeah,” Wenbo agreed. “Yeah, it really is.”
Ai put her tired head on his shoulder. “So… What now? Are we gathering everyone again?”
Wenbo shook his head. “No, I’ll go to each of our siblings one by one… But we’ll start here at home.”
Ai looked concerned. “Do you think Ren will come along?”
“... I don’t know,” Wenbo admitted.
For a while, the two remained there in front of the shrines, planning what to do before the sky would rip asunder.
Wenbo goes to the hill by his house to sulk. He’s pretty upset about how the presentation of Shengshi’s plan went and considers pulling out. He then doubts that, too, wondering what’ll happen to his family. He starts thinking about the wonders of the outside world and falls asleep. While sleeping, he has a crazy af dream.
He is woken up by Ai who scolds him for being shitty at convincing people. Wenbo asks if she believes in him and she’s like, “we already got it good here. dafuq you wanna leave for?” Wenbo, realising he lost, starts talking about the time he proposed to her on the hilltop. Ai’s entertained, but says she won’t change her mind even if he flatters her. Wenbo says he knows and that he’s going anyway. Ai, feeling betrayed, gets angry. They fight for a few seconds before Wenbo charge down the hill towards his house where he’s gunna tell Sheng he’s going alone.
On the way, he trips and hurts his leg. Ai tackles him to the ground just as he’s about to pray, scolds him and then bandages his leg. Realising that she cares too much for him to let him go on his own, Ai decides to come with him. Wenbo asks if she’s sure and she says “what would my life be without you?”
They contact Sheng together. They tell Sheng the dreamers ain’t impressed with his goods and that they want something bigger and better. Sheng asks what they want and Wenbo says they want to go wherever, whenever, as one big group. Shengshi agrees as to give them that and all aforementioned blessings as long as he receives daily prayers and seasonal sacrifices. They then say goodbye and the post ends with Wenbo saying he’ll go and ask every dreamer family personally.
In lieu of an official gathering hub, the dreamer host summoned for the great moot all instead were to meet at the now-empty Mansion of the Our Mothers. With all the expansion projects over the decades, the once small estate could now easily accommodate the roughly one hundred and fifty or so dreamers that existed; however, the old courtyard surrounded by the three abodes of wood still remained much the same. Wenbo sat in the doorway of the dining house, absent-mindedly maintaining a twig flute using a sharp rock. His family were the first to arrive, a given as their house was rather close and they had sent out the invitations. Behind him, Ai, Naran and a number of Wenbo and Ai’s children and grandchildren were preparing supper for the whole moot. It was an all-too-rare occurrence that their whole clan would meet - the warmth in Wenbo’s chest urged him to gather them more often.
A smile curved his lips as he gleefully watched his slightly wilder grandchildren chase one-another back and forth across the courtyard as he once had his siblings. The teens among them, and they had grown in number since he last saw them, huddled into cliques and discussed a myriad of topics, most of which Wenbo felt certain his opinion on would be lame and old. He saw Wen Cai scoff at one of her cousins and playfully strike him after he presumably said something slightly too playful; among the younger ones, he saw Wen Qi pull one of his cousins by his hair as their game of catch grew slightly too hot-blooded for their own good. As he pressed his palms down on his thighs and craned his torso forward to stand, however, one of his four daughters, Wen Fei, gave him a reassuring smile and went on ahead in his stead. Wenbo snickered at her, and as the hot-aired words of her scolding floated across the courtyard, not completely unchallenged by tearful shouts from Wen Qi and the other enthusiastic children, the ageing dreamer drew in a soft breath through his nose.
“... Hey, chalky! Your head looks like a crow’s nest!”
Wenbo blinked and looked down on the ground before him. A small gang of sparrows pecked mockingly on the ground and snickered to one another.
“Pfft, yeah! Like a dirty, old twig heap!” they continued.
The old Dreamer gave them a sharp look and one of the sparrows broke out of its snicker.
“... ‘Ey… ‘Ey, fellas, somethin’s up with this one. Look at ‘im, is as if he can hear us or somethin’.”
Wenbo huffed. “For your information, I can.”
The sparrows looked awkwardly at one another. “Aw, tits,” said one of them.
“What’s wrong with my hair?” Wenbo asked self-conciously, wrinkly hands ruffling the graying black bush atop his scalp. The sparrows exchanged sheepish looks.
“Nothin’, mista’ - best hair I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, ‘s a lil’ spiky, gotta admit.”
“Whaaat? Nooo… A bit?”
Wenbo huffed again. “Easy for you three to say - you don’t have any hair.”
“‘Ey, ‘ey - now that’s just rubbin’ it in, dreamer boy,” one of them tweeted angrily.
“Chippy, ‘e’s right. You ain’t got no hair.”
“Oh, Crumbus, that’s way below the tail.”
The angry bird, presumably Chippy, gave the one known as Crumbus a look of betrayal before flapping his wing at him and taking off. Crumbus gulped.
“Now, ‘ey! What did I say? ‘E really ain’t got no hair!” Crumbus insisted. The third sparrow shook his head.
“Tits, Crumb… Really gotta rub it in, huh. Thought you were better than this.” The third sparrow took off as well, tailed by an increasingly frustrated Crumbus exclaiming that what they had was feathers and dow.
Wenbo still sat in the doorway, his eyebrows admitting that he had found the conversation to be anywhere between awkward and amusing. He traced an approaching shadow up to see the smile of his son Wen De. The young adult looked to the sky in the general direction of the sparrows’ flight and chuckled.
“Did they say anything amusing, dad?” he asked kindly and put his hands on his hips. Wenbo shrugged.
“Eh… I’ve heard better.” He put his flute down on the floor beside him. “How’re you doing, De?”
“Not too bad, I suppose - Chunhua’s really happy about the addition to the house you helped us build. Now we’ve got a proper storage shed so the twins’ bed actually fits inside our living room. So, yeah, thanks, dad.”
Wenbo nodded happily. “How are the little Yun and Tu?”
“Oh, very well, very well. Yun sadly broke his arm a few months ago, but it seems to be healing well now, thank the gods.”
“Thank the gods,” Wenbo echoed and smiled. “I’m happy for you, De - really am. I know we didn’t think much of Chunhua in the beginning, but she looks to be right for you, after all.”
Wen De let out a quick, sheepish chuckle. “Where’s this coming from, dad? Are you alright?”
The old dreamer blinked as though he broke out of a light trance. He pursed his lips and snorted. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about me.”
Wen De’s smile faded into a look of concern. Wenbo gazed at the sky above and leaned back, propping himself on his hands.
“... The cup of my heart is shaking while full. The weight of this mission is calling forth words.” He chuckled and Wen De remained worried still. The old dreamer then sighed. “I may grow a little sentimental throughout the day, my son, so you may as well get used to it.”
“Yeah,” De responded. “You’d tell us if something was bothering you, right?”
Wenbo smiled. “A million things bother me, my child, and you would probably get bored of hearing them long before I could ever finish.” He looked past De for a moment at the figures approaching through the gateway. “Ah… There he is. Go tell your mother that Chagatai’s family has come.”
Wen De turned around and smiled. “Right on it, dad.” The dreamer stepped through the wide doorway Wenbo sat in. Wenbo nodded to himself and gazed towards the gate. The unmistakable blue hair of Altansarnai danced on the breeze next to the powerful build of his own precious twin brother. Wenbo pushed himself to his feet and strode across the courtyard, hands collected behind his back and a smirk about his face.
“The Leader has come at the Thinker’s call. Sound the flutes - yes, tell all - Chagatai and clan have come - joy is here and despair’s gone!”
“Wenbo!” Chagatai roared over the chattering of his kin, “I have ridden the mighty Tree-Eaters of white!”
“It was an accident, they spent like three minutes apologizing to each other!” Altansarnai corrected as they made the final few steps. Now in reach, Chagatai extended his arm, poking Wenbo on the cheek.
“What dangers of thought is the Thinker thinking this time?” Chagatai mused before pulling Wenbo into a rough hug.
Wenbo returned a loud guffaw and slid in a poke on Chagatai’s cheek in the middle of the hug. “Oh-ho, it’s a terrifying plan this time, Chaggie - you won’t like it one bit, but I’ll admit that it may be the biggest thing to ever happen to us - to all of us.” Wenbo squeezed and patted Chagatai a few more times before breaking the hug. His grin faded a little and his brow lowered over his eyes. “We’ll wait until the rest of us arrive before the big reveal, but… Safe to say, it’ll be something else.”
“Alright but if I don’t like it, I’m--” Chagatai paused and turned to his bride, “What’s a good threat?”
“You’re going to cook him dinner?” She suggested and Chagatai frowned.
“Better yet,” He turned back to Wenbo, “I’ll have her do it. You could ride one of her roasts into the thick of the hunt.”
“I like them bloody,” She tilted her chin high.
“I’d say your roasts is closer to a tartar, really,” came a voice from behind Wenbo. Ai stepped forward with a smirk on her face and a tray in her hands, the ceramic disc sporting various steamed and grilled appetizers.
“I don’t even know what that is, so there,” Altansarnai gave a smug smile before pinching one of the appetizers and flicking it into her mouth, “Little hot.” She made a face as she exhaled wildly.
Ai huffed. “No, Altan, you’re supposed to blow on it first - I told you this when you were four.”
“Why can’t you just serve them at food temperature,” Altansarnai swallowed hard. Ai rolled her eyes and continued to serve the other arrivals.
“Always with the hard hitting questions that leave even the best Dreamer thinkers on edge,” A sing-song voice laughed, the speckled face of Li leaning into the conversation, only to be intercepted by a large Chagatai hug.
“You’re damn right,” Altansarnai pointed a finger, “And it doesn’t stop there, either.”
“Now, if it isn’t our lieutenant!” Wenbo hurried over as fast as his ageing legs could carry him and hugged Li as soon as Chagatai let him go. “How are you, lil’ Li?”
“And where have you been?” Chagatai smiled as he asked, “It’s been a while since we had heard from you.”
Li opened his eyes wide, “Well, do I have a story for you guys.”
“Usually it’s the other way around,” Altansarnai poked Li’s cheek and he brushed the spot with the back of his hand.
He looked down at the ground, “I know, I know,” His smile was thoughtful, “But no really... I was out with my grandson Urangtai looking for grubs to bait a few traps when I heard a song from the heavens themselves... I think I met one of the Weavers of K’nell. From the stories.”
“Nooo… You did? Wait, did you stroll too close to the Forbidden Forest?” Wenbo accused playfully.
The playfulness was lost on Li as he held his hands up, “No! I swear. I was in the fields... the weaver was sitting on that flat rock our mother used to bring us to.” He held out his hands as if to hold an instrument, “Plucking along a strange instrument and singing strange lyrics. It was so beautiful, I have to admit I was brought to tears.” He held his head proud, as if that was impossible.
“Tears? You?” Chagatai rubbed his chin, indulging the man.
“Yes,” Li nodded furiously, “I never experienced anything like it.”
“Huh,” Wenbo hummed. “Is Urangtai here to confirm the story?”
“You don’t believe him?” Altansarnai turned to Wenbo, “Has Li ever been a liar?” Wenbo motioned for her to quiet down and gave her a sly smirk, to which she narrowed her eyes at.
Chagatai grasped his chin anxiously as he watched his wife’s face turn a shade of red, but Li cut in with a quick, “Of course... er.” He turned his head, “Urangtai! Get over here.”
The lanky young man jogged on over, a deep yellow strip leading straight down from his right eye, “Yes Grandfather Li?”
“Tell your Elder Wenbo what you saw by the flat rock of the fields.”
Altansarnai was still staring daggers at Wenbo as Urangtai suddenly exploded into a story, “... The music was unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It was soft, but quick. Happy yet sad. So many mysterious things were said... and at the very end -- the weaver stood up, disguised as a Dreamer and approached us.”
Li bowed his head as Urangtai finished, “And asked us to pray with him.”
Wenbo grinned. “Ah, just as the stories say. So, Urangtai, have you proposed to my granddaughter yet?”
Urangtai’s eyes widened, “S-Song?” He looked at Li who shrugged and then back at Wenbo, “This was a trap?”
“Congratulations, boy,” Chagatai slapped his back, “You figured it out.”
Altansarnai finally let out a hissing steam, “You--” She pushed Wenbo, “At least tell me beforehand, geez. I thought a quoll crawled up your ass.”
Wenbo cackled maniacally and patted Altansarnai on her back, then himself on the spot where she had pushed him. “A strategy is best kept secret, lest the opponent can read your every move.” Wenbo then reached over to squeeze Urangtai’s shoulder. “A trap, it may have been, son, but nothing like the trap of marriage - oh, but don’t worry, it’s a nice trap, that. So, have you popped the question yet? Just so you know, you’re all she ever talks about. I snap near stopped going to Tian’s house because of Song’s yapping. You’ve got good chances, son.”
“Oh,” Urangtai said dumbly, “Right... well...”
“Urangtai is scared of Wen Song,” Li explained and Urangtai jumped in his spot.
“I’m not scared,” Urangtai defended himself, “Just... no disrespect Elder Wenbo, but she can be a little intense.”
“Intense?” Altansarnai cocked a head, “Sweet little Song? She couldn’t harm a ghost fly.”
“I don’t think he means your kind of intense,” Chagatai put an arm around Altansarnai, “The other kind.”
Urangtai gave Wenbo a weak smile “I like her, I do!”
“Beware! Beware! She’s -craaazy-!” came a voice from behind Wenbo, followed by multiple cackles. Wenbo swung around and saw his granddaughter Cai sprint away with a few others. He shook his fist after them.
“Cai! Don’t sabotage your cousin’s wedding, you-...!” He shut himself up and turned back. “Don’t mind her. You know how she is.”
“Who said wedding?” Urangtai squeeked.
“I believe that would be Song,” A well squared jaw popped over Urangtai’s shoulder, the bearded face of Bataar holding a bright smile, “Even I’ve heard her wedding plans.” He slipped in next to his father, Chagatai, who gave him a slap on the back.
“What?” Urangtai paled.
“It has something to do with your names shaved into the sides of a thousand tree-eaters, and enough honey to spell out her love for you with the cloudlings themselves,” Bataar arched a brow.
“My name isn’t even that long,” Urangtai bit his fingers, eyes wide.
“Maybe you should tell her that,” Bataar winked at Wenbo, “Over a glass of sweetgrass wine, perhaps?”
“I will!” Urangtai stomped a foot.
Wenbo grinned. “Make sure to do that today, though - after dinner. I can tell you of a nice spot in the vegetable gardens where the cabbage patches make it really hard for peepers to peek in.” He nudged the young lad with his elbow. “If you’re lucky, the wine pot Temüjin buried there back in the day might still be full. Knock yourselves out.” He patted Urangtai proudly on the shoulder. “Make us proud, grandson-in-law.”
Urangtai puffed up his chest and huffed off, unsure of what he was doing anymore.
“Tame the wild beast!” Bataar called after him, only slightly cringing as he turned back to make eye contact with Wenbo, “All due respect of course.”
“Naturally,” Wenbo nodded.
A sweet, musical laughter appeared behind Li, followed by a quiet sigh. Flanked on the side by a warmly-grinning Ai, Bayarmaa gently stepped into the conversation circle. She had a soft, slightly wrinkly smile about her face that seemed to beam like its own version of heliopolis.
“Oh, our sweet, little boy…” she mused and leaned her head on Li’s shoulder. “He’s grown into such a handsome man… Must be your looks, Li.” She gave her husband a playful smile and rubbed her alabaster hair against his cheek. She turned to the crowd and giggled. “It’s so nice to see you all again - as always, it’s way too long between each time. Look at you all, as wonderful as you always have been.” She eyed Bataar up and down. “Oh, little Batty, you’re just as handsome as your father.”
“Oh stop,” Both Bataar and Chagatai said at the same time. Altansarnai sucked in a breath, a laugh on her lips.
“How is Chenghis anyways?” Li asked Bataar.
Bataar made a satisfied face, “He is good, nearly a man now. He has a growing fondness for the White Tree Eaters. I think our friendship with the herd is finally turning into something greater.”
“And all it took was for one dreamer to wrestle one to the ground,” Altansarnai looked up at her husband, “Who woulda thought.”
“The trick was, I wasn’t thinking,” Chagatai winked and Altansarnai gave him a curled smile. Bataar furrowed his brows and shook his head.
“But yes, Chenghis is doing well.”
“That is wonderful to hear,” Bayarmaa assured. “So, Wenbo - a family gathering like this is so fantastic of you to arrange, but, really, why did you call us all here? You’re not usually the one to plan the family gatherings.”
“No, we are,” Ai added with a smirk, but then gave Wenbo a worried, yet reassuring look. The Thinker chuckled at Bayarmaa’s remark, though his smile quickly faded.
“Zhongcheng, Laia and their children shouldn’t be too far away now. I reckon Temüjin and Ansong aren’t far behind them again. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ve got a lot to share.”
The dreamers slowly filled up the courtyard, and as they did, they found mattresses, blankets, carpets and pillows to sit on. All the five main clans, headed by the married couples of the original ten dreamer children. Cousins and siblings all sat mixed up, however; cheeks were poked; hugs, exchanged. A beautiful rainbow of Ashallan birthmarks and primitively dyed clothes coloured the otherwise monochrome sight. In front of the crowd sat Wenbo in the doorway of the dining house. He looked outwards at the crowd, a sad smile on his lips. He looked at Ai, who once more gave him a somber, reassuring look. He licked his teeth in a quick motion and stood up. He extended his hands forward and inclined his head.
“Welcome, each and every one of you! It’s, wow, it really is unreal seeing you all again after such a long time since our last big gathering. Sure, I’ve visited some of you since then, but, snap (excuse the language), seeing every single one of you here is just crazy.”
Ai rolled her eyes and the children giggled.
“The quicker the words, the sooner the feast!” Chagatai called out and a roar of laughter followed his jeering. Shoulders were punched and hands came to pat Chagatai, almost egging him to continue -- but the man gave Wenbo a respectful wink and settled into his seat.
Wenbo grinned for a moment and continued, “Now, all of you might be wondering why I actually called everyone here. Now, as dear Bayarmaa said, it’s wonderful to see you all here - see how you’ve grown and aged. Our family truly is blessed with good looks, gotta say.” He snickered to himself, backed up by a few blushing giggles in the crowd. Then, his tone caught a melancholic sense about it. “However, as much as I would love to meet just for the sake of seeing you all, there is a deeper plot behind this summoning.”
Wenbo stuck a hand into the fold of his robe. From a pocket inside he pulled out a plump, ripe stalkplum, its hard, yet flaky outer shell revealing the nutritious yellow orb in its centre. “Can anyone tell me what this is?”
“A stalkplum!” the children exclaimed in an adorable excuse for unison. Wenbo nodded.
“That’s right. It’s a stalkplum. Perfectly ripe and delicious for grinding into plum meal for your flatcakes. Remember who taught us how to harvest these?”
“Mother Xiaoli did!” the children once more exclaimed. A few of the mothers picked up the more enthusiastic toddlers and caressed them calmly in their arms. Wenbo nodded.
“That’s right. Mother Xiaoli taught us to work the soil, and thanks to that, our people have not gone hungry for as long as any of us can remember, really. We’re all forever thankful to her for that, aren’t we? Aren’t we?”
The dreamers began to giggle and clap in appreciation. Wenbo clapped and snickered. “Yeah, yeah! None of us would be here without mom and mother - none of us. Which is really why I wish they were here for this…” He sucked in a breath and sighed. A number in the crowd exchanged uncertain looks. Wenbo continued, “See, the reason I bring up the topic of this stalkplum is that the teacher who taught mother how to farm came to me in a vision.”
There came a number of gasps. Temüjin crawled a little closer to hear better. Bayarmaa covered her mouth with her hand. Wenbo pursed his lips and Chagatai turned his head slightly, suspicion crossing his eyes. One of the children raised a hand and Wenbo pointed at her. The child spoke, “Who taught mother?” and Wenbo make a wry frown.
“His Lordship Shengshi, the great God of the Rivers and the Harvest. He came to me and said some kind words, and then left me with a proposal.” He rolled the stalkplum around in his hand.
“What was his Lordship’s proposal?” Chagatai asked for the host of Dreamers, standing up.
Wenbo took in a lungful of air. “His Lordship has requested that I bring my whole family, as well as any others who want to follow, to the southern shore of Tendlepog, by the cliff beaches. There, His Lordship will wait for us and, once we have come to him, he will take us to a new home, a promised land.”
“But we already live in a promised land,” Chagatai furrowed his brow, “Why leave the land promised to our mothers?”
Wenbo nodded. “A valid question. Even though His Lordship said this land was fat and ripe with nourishment and sweet water; with challenges and mastery; a land where winter never comes - even though He promised all this, do we not already have it here?” He paused for a moment, looking down at the stalkplum in his hand again. “You see, that was not all that was promised. Settlement in this new land was merely the mission - a mission rewarded with a gift.”
Temüjin rose up and walked over next to Chagatai, crossing his arms over his chest. “What manner of gift could be enough to leave home, Wen-Wen?” His voice was almost somber. Wenbo winced a little at the tone, a hurt expression crossing his face.
“Remember the mountain,” Chagatai warned simply, one hand falling on his left arm where the tiger’s pelt covered a gruesome scar.
Wenbo nodded at the two, glancing to Ai for support. This time, however, even she seemed uncertain. The Thinker closed his eyes. “This reward is greater than a handful of shiny pebbles, Chaggie, and perhaps even worth leaving home for.”
“Is it?” Chagatai asked, “Sometimes you’d think that there must be a greater field over the moving mountains, only to find the dustlands. How do you know?” “I have a god’s word, Chaggie - a god’s word that, should we complete the mission, the blood of my people - as well as any others who come along - will be blessed with prosperity for eternity.”
“What do you call this?” Altansarnai jumped to her feet.
“Can we complete the mission?” Another, younger Dreamer suddenly asked, his face similar to that of Zhongcheng.
“Altan, please, let me finish,” Wenbo said and turned to the young dreamer. “The mission is simply to settle the lands, so I reckon it’s very possible.”
“I do not disagree,” The younger dreamer piped up again, known as Zhong Wang, “But I have to wonder, as there are lands we have encountered that we cannot settle -- and Elder Zhongcheng has always taught us to question the simplicity of requests. I beg for your wisdom, Elder, but put forth my own on the matter.”
Wenbo nodded proudly. “As you should - believe me, I have run these requests over and over in my head and wondered ceaselessly why, oh why His Lordship would want us in his plans. Still, what he has promised the bloodlines of those that follow him - this cannot be ignored.”
“Zhong Wang, Elder Wenbo, if I may,” Bataar stood up now, “I too am a student of Zhongcheng, as well as that of my own lineage, and I remember the third warning of Zhongcheng -- should we solve the problem as it stands, or should we ask why we are making it a problem? I stand with my father and my mother when I ask, what can be applied to our lineage that we cannot find here? We live under the guise of the Creator God of this land itself, as well has his creation, our Elder Mother. Are we wanting?”
Wenbo sighed. “You already are wise beyond your years, Bataar - likely much wiser than me. However, allow me to quote His Lordship and say his words as he said them to me.” Wenbo reached into his robe once more and took out a scroll made up of strips of bark tied together with thread. He unrolled it and held it up for all to see. “As soon as he had spoken to me, I wrote down all he had said. Many words would have been forgotten, had I had a similarly long conversation with anybody else - but these words, my family, these words are forever carved into my mind. Pay attention, all of you, for these are His Lordship’s words:I will never let you starve nor your crops fail, and wherever you walk, wealth shall appear in abundance. Your cups will never empty and your guests will never leave thirsty. All this and more, I, Shengshi, promise you and your kin, my child.”
After reading, he paused.
“Do you find your cup empty, Wenbo?” An unfamiliar voice gently rose from the audience, a tall dreamer standing up. He had long alabaster hair and silver eyes, with no mark on his forehead and a wrinkle by each eye that betrayed him older than even Chagatai. Li suddenly paled, shaking Bayarmaa’s shoulder wildly and mouthing ‘it’s him’ over and over.
Wenbo blinked and lowered his scroll. “Forgive me, friend, but… D-do we know you?”
“I am the man who bound your parents’ hands in marriage,” The dreamer answered, folding his hands into his lap, “Does your mouth run dry?”
“The man who bound our--” Wenbo began before his eyes widened to nearly twice their size. His knees buckled and the old dreamer fell to his hands, prostrating himself and provoking the same reaction from all the others. “O-oh, merciful--... Great God, o merciful God.”
“Has my garden lost its splendor?” K’nell asked, a finger pinching his clean chin.
“O-of course not, Your Holiness - the garden of T-Tendlepog cannot ever lose its splendor. Life here is idyllic, t-truly!” He pushed his forehead as far into the soil as his could, nearly muffling his voice.
K’nell tapped the back of Wenbo’s head once, “Then stand and tell me: if you do not wish to leave for the wealth of Shengshi, nor because my kingdom is lacking, then why?”
Awed and shaken, Wenbo rose to his feet and swallowed. An additional moment was taken to find the correct words, characterised by silent movements on his lips. He stood, as proudly as he could, and spoke, "... It is a divine mission, and the world out there is… Well, we know nothing of it save vague stories of ancient lands passed down from our mothers. Here, neither mouth nor stomach goes empty, and I'll be certain that my children and their children will forever grow up in peace and tranquility." He paused and his oldest son, Ren, stood up as well, eyeing his father. "... And yet, my heart is wanting, o greatest God. It is as my brother said: I have foolishly attempted to find suitable land beyond the moving mountains, and in my youth, I even dared set foot in the Sacred Woods - as I am certain His Holiness remembers…" He lowered his head in shame. "Still, while the beauty of Tendlepog is endless and its bounty, rich, my wanderlust, my spirit, is found wanting."
"Then speak of it in no other way," K'nell commanded, "And then you may go, as the choice is yours -- but only after you bear witness to three warnings."
He held up one finger, "To leave my kingdom, is to leave the closest you may be with me. You will be without the unseen angels that protect you here, there will be no ensured paradise beyond my borders and my promises of future and end go only as far as my music can be heard. You will be at the mercy of other forces."
He held up a second finger, "To leave my kingdom, there is a chance that you nor your descendants may ever be able to return. The world is mysterious, and my garden shall only grow more hidden and safe, until my final promise is met."
He held up a third and final finger, "I say to you now the final warning, do not leave until I rip open the sky, or you and all who leave will be forever lost. You will know when it is done, as it will be obvious and will usher back your two mothers."
Wenbo felt sweat moisten his skin. His son Ren came over to him and took his hand. “Dad, we-... We’re happy here, right? I mean, the warnings-... You heard him, right?” He looked between his father’s indecisive expression and K’nell’s dreamer form. “Right?”
Wenbo lifted his gaze to regard K’nell again, a determined flicker dancing within the black of his eyes. “Is the outside world as grand and mysterious as the stories told?”
"Mystery and grandiose is what you make of it, Wenbo. You stand on but a small slice of land crafted by the God of riddles and the God of sleep at the dawn of creation, yet you look thirstily elsewhere -- so by your eyes, you will either find what you seek in the new lands, or you will thirst for yet another land after a taste." K'nell paused, "Hermes, your mother, had traveled the lands at the dawn of creation -- I only suspect that this fire and desire for adventure I had instilled in her is also in you. I am not punishing you for it, I am simply making you aware of what the choice entails. To comfort your soul I will now depart with two promises." He pursed his lips, "Firstly I shall listen to all who pray to me, so keep my name in your heart, and my mark on your mind. Secondly, no matter the deed, should you or any descendent of any who leave find their way back to the soil of Tendlepog despite the perils of my second warning, they shall be welcomed back as a once lost son or daughter."
Wenbo gave his son a look, who returned it with concern. Wenbo then eyed his family, sampled their reactions and turned back to K’nell. “I understand, great God…” He turned to Chagatai with a half-smile and let out a single chuckle. “I’m sorry for not telling you about this alone like we used to, Chaggie - now I wish I had discussed it with you before I told everyone.” He wrinkled his nose and turned to K’nell again. “Then I will wait until the sky is torn apart. I will not demand anyone come with me, of course - not even my own family. I know that is what His Lordship demanded, but I won’t force anyone to accept these terms.”
"As you shouldn't," K'nell agreed, "Should you forget every lesson I have ever departed on your kin and minds, always remember that a choice belongs solely to its owner and can never be forced, nor can a thought, nor an opinion."
Wenbo nodded. “Understood, great God.”
"Is it?" K'nell asked with a smile, "I shall be with you in every dream, to my palace you will all return." With little more, K'nell turned away and began to walk out of the estate. As he did, a shimmering trailed behind him, and a host of weavers flooded into existence, parading the God through the dreamers until he was long into the distance.
The crowd collected themselves again, sitting back up one by one. Ren exchanged looks with his father, and Wenbo himself surveyed the expressions among the Dreamers before him.
"Well, there you have it," he finally said, "the terms have been set - a promise of a holy bloodline in a great world beyond, or an eternity of safety and tranquility here. The choice is yours, my family. I… I will go. Whomever wishes to join me are welcome to do so." Before he let anyone else speak, he raised a palm. "Please, take time to think this through. While our God invited us back should we wish, I suspect it will not be as simple as one may think."
The crowd remained silent, then some chatter began to rumble.
"With the words of the second warning and the perils of the second promise, I hope no one thinks it is simple," Chagatai could be heard grumpily talking to Altansarnai. The woman didn't respond, a hurt look on her face as she listened to a few of the mumbles. Finally the leader shouted above the murmurs.
"We break for our feast, then we tend to our homes."
“Agreed,” Temüjin added with relief in his voice and clapped his hands together. Bayarmaa smiled and shuffled towards the kitchens, trailed by a host of grandchildren. Wenbo sat himself down in the doorway, propping his head on a fist with a groan. Children and grandchildren passed by him as they went inside to grab the various prepared dishes - some of them squeezed Wenbo’s shoulder in sympathy, though no one said anything. Wenbo wrinkled his nose and rubbed his face with a rugged palm.
“Gods, what am I doing,” he mumbled to himself.
“Trying to oust me as the man of crazy ideas,” Chagatai answered, plopping down next to his twin, “You should know how it works: I get both of us in over our heads, you think us out of it, and then I take the blame, but use my rugged good looks to get a few laughs out of it.”
Wenbo snickered. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m way out of my league here. Not used to being the dumbass.” He nudged Chagatai’s arm playfully.
“Exactly, everyone thinks it is easy being the idiot of the group, but really it is a lot of work,” Chagatai pumped a fist to his chest, “But this is a whole new level of strange… and if you go on with it, well there won’t be…” He twisted his lips into a frown, “Well, the twins.”
“Yeah, I know… It’s just-...” He stopped himself. “There is this clump within me - an insatiable lust for, well…” He looked at the surrounding nature. “We have everything here, Chaggie. Everything and yet-... No matter how far I take my staff and go exploring, so much looks… Alike. Even that which changes is predictable in its next form - the moving mountains will always be mountains, no matter if they’re in the east or the west, and beyond them will always be an endless desert that we know doesn’t lead anywhere.” He shook his head. “No, I’ve thought a lot about mom’s stories lately… There are apparently mountains so tall out there that you cannot even see the peaks, and forests so dense that they might as well be one single mass of wood and foliage. Then, think of the wildlife, Chaggie - think of all that which can be sampled and studied out there!”
“Wen-wen,” Chagatai sucked in a breath, “I’m every bit mom’s son the same as you, and I love my adventures -- I mean don’t even get me started on the white herd… but this is different. I’m not Zhongcheng or Bayarmaa but I think the big reason why your speech sort of flopped was because you kept--” Chagatai pursed his lips. “Wenbo, the reason the others look to me for guidance is because every damn adventure since the mountains with Li when we were kids has been for them, not for me -- and you just spent a moot telling us all that the reason we should go over was for things we already have when the real reason was your wanderlust.”
“... I couldn’t very well lie - not to Him. Besides, what else should I have said?”
“The truth, always the truth,” Chagatai furrowed his brow, “If you had said that you had been given a chance to fulfill your wanderlust and were looking for like minds, maybe then I could see a justification, but you asked us to uproot for a better life. I hate the idea of you leaving no matter the cause, but I can at least respect the truth.”
“But it always was the truth! What I said was exactly what His Lordship told me!” Wenbo tightened his hand into a fist and scowled at nothing in particular. “He promises a better life - all this, He said… The adventure is second hand to Him, but first hand to me, that is all.”
“I’m not a smart man,” Chagatai narrowed his eyes, “But you are -- so I assume you at least asked this God what he meant by a better life, what the details were -- to see if they were so grave to leave the light of another God and all their bounty. You remember the stories of our mothers’, each God has a very different view, of course whatever his Lordship Shengshi offers will be better on his tongue, but is it better on yours?”
Wenbo drew a breath through the nose. “A god of rivers and grain offering an eternity without hunger and thirst and wealth must be knowing what He is talking about.” He shot a sideways glance at the treetops in the distance.
“It sounds to me like you enjoy the broad strokes of his words,” Chagatai accused, “You know as well as I do that a god isn’t defined by their specialty. Did the God of rain create our cloudlings, did the God of the hunt create our beasts, or was it the God of sleep and the God of riddles who made the very stone we walk on. The God of Rivers made half our flesh, but never touched a river on this land, even.”
“You’re right - no other god has ever made anything in these lands; no one but our guardian. Apart from half the soil, all of its inhabitants are purely His work.” Wenbo gestured to the sky. “Can you imagine it, Chaggie, just how much we are missing? The God of Rain did not create the cloudlings, no - the God of the Hunt did not create our beasts, no; we know not at all what they actually have created, or if they have created anything at all. There is a world beyond this land, and to leave it, we have to abandon the chance to return.” He blinked a little and gave the ground a blank frown. “In fact, is it not a little odd that it is so difficult for leavers to return?”
Chagatai stared blankly for a while before slowly shaking his head, “Not if the world outside our little paradise is a threat. I’ve trapped by many burrows to understand that -- and that’s why I can’t come. I gave up the idea of being a wild adventurer the day I realized my responsibility is to all my kin. If this is the safer option, then I have to lead our people forward here and here alone. This land is vast and holds many challenges, I cannot forsake them, not now.”
Wenbo blinked rapidly and looked down, a little moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. He nodded barely. “Yes… Yes, that is understandable.” He snickered quietly. “Always the responsible one, you were. Without fail, you still are. I may have had the solutions, the strategies, but never that sense of responsibility that you have.”
At this point, a few of the dreamer children had gathered to listen to the two elders’ discussion. Wenbo eyed them with a weak smile. “No, Chaggie, you’re right. Your place is here. If our people aren’t already safe in this haven, they certainly will be as long as one of your blood watches over them.” He snickered and pushed himself to his feet, placing two hands on his lower back to push out a lasting ache. “But me, well…” He gave Chagatai a orange-ringed wink. “... I always had cities to plan, farms to dig - stones to find…” He gazed into the horizon. “Would you tell Ai I’ve gone for a walk? I need a moment with my mind.”
“Warden watch you,” Chagatai gave a slant of smile, “I’ll be here.”
Wenbo nodded in gratitude and walked towards the gates, hands collected behind his back.
Dreamer meet, yo! They meet in their mommas’ house ‘cuz they out for the weekend. The first to arrive are the Wens. Wenbo gets harassed by some birbs before Chaggie arrives and good times are had. We see some additional characters, too, like Li and Bayarmaa and Temüjin and the lads.
The meeting starts. Wenbo tells them what snake told him, but K’nell’s like, “oh, so I’m not good enough for you?” Wenbo’s like, “shiet, you here? ‘course you’re good, babe, no one else.” K’nell’s like, “why you wanna leave then, huh?” Wenbo: “‘Cuz this lad gotta be free to explore.” K’nell says fine, but tells him that outside bad and that they might not be able to return in the future. Wenbo’s like “fuck, but aight.” K’nell disappears.
Chaggie and Wenbo have a chat, where Chaggie tells Wenbo to not be such a selfish prick when proposing the exodus and Wenbo’s like, “damn, I wish I had your charisma.” They share some sad laughs and Wenbo goes for a walk. The end.
Wenbo grinned. “Ah, just as the stories say. So, Urangtai, have you proposed to my granddaughter yet?”
"Suck my chalky white dick, pops, you ain't ever taming this bird!"
--
An old Dreamer joke:
Husband: Ever notice that Tolui doesn't have any Ashalla markings?
Wife: Well no, but have you ever seen him naked
--
"Honey you're making a scene."
"I fucked one fifth of these suckers into existence, I don't give a shit if I make five fifths of a scene
--
Wenbo lifted his gaze to regard K’nell again, a determined flicker dancing within the black of his eyes. “Is the outside world as grand and mysterious as the stories told?”
"bro its like a bunch of morons with no architecture knowledge tried to cobble together a bungalow with lincoln logs and used gum, shits inconsistent and full of shit. How much u wanna bet the first murder happens on your way there? Shiiiiii I'd welcome a stab through the brain rather than another walk on the DF."
Duhwah pointed at an encircled spot on a crude map painted on a dry wolf skin. Jotokan rubbed away some of the warpaints on his face in thought, inciting a frustrated groan from Aloo who had drawn it. The chieftain looked up at the champion with a furrowed brow.
“That’s pretty far from the ol’ Julu camp… Ya sure they’re that far away from Hohm?”
Duhwah gave his younger brother Dohn a look and the younger brother passed a nod back. “Yeah,” Duhwah affirmed. “Every time we’ve gone to fetch bluestone, they’ve always attacked from the south - Dohn here did some checkin’ up and found a small camp in a small crag by the beach.”
Jotokan pursed his lips and nodded. “Did they see ya, Dohn? And did ya see if they had anyone standing guard? Egii or Egoo?”
Dohn shook his head. “Nah, chief - ain’t seen none’a them. Don’t think they saw me either, though. Was pretty well hidden.”
Jotokan nodded and clapped him proudly on the shoulder. “Aight, boys - tonight’s the night. Eel ‘n his brothers have stolen their last bluestone. We’re goin’ over to their camp and we’re gunna make them stop for good.”
The twenty-five selka present all raised their spears into the air and sounded a thunderous, “YEAH!”
It had been another six months since Lugo’s visit to the Wuhdige; a prosperous year had passed and unveiled a growing infection in the wound that was the Elu family’s relationship with the rest of the tribe. After their departure from the Home Cave settlement, which the chieftain had decided to rename Hohm for simplicity’s sake, a long time had passed without any sort of contact - the Julus had not exactly been keen on it, after all, and Jotokan had conveniently also quite felt like postponing the meeting. Still, it had to be done, and as relationships soured further and further due to the increasingly bolder raids by Egii, Egoo and the other Elu hunters, the task had only necessitated greater and greater preparations. Finally, however, they were ready - with twenty-five strong, all painted with red handprints on their faces over the eyes, on the pectorals and on the biceps to honour Killon the Red, and with spears pointed with deer bones, they were fully prepared. Each would bring along a pack of fired fish and some pears and apples as to not go hungry. Anything beyond the ration, however, would have to be hunted personally.
Jotokan felt a nervous itch pester his gut. He would be the first Wuhdige chieftain to lead a band explicitly to police one of his fellow clans - a proud clan from which his very wife descended. No mistakes could be made - the spears would merely be for show, yes. No, no Wuhdige blood would be spilled today.
With some kisses of farewell from their families, the twenty-five selka set off on a disorganised march into the dark of night. The walk to the old Julu camp was long - nearly a day long, even for a fast walker, and the Elus were even further away. The thought of a long march drilled at Jotokan’s motivation, but he would be the last to snow it externally. As the body paint dried out, the band took to the sea water to give their aching feet some rest. Making certain to remain within the cover of night or underwater, they swam as a pack of sea lions, scanning the beach for prey.
As dawn of the second day approached, Dohn quickly dove underneath, followed by the rest. Under water, he signed a signal they all knew - fire. Jotokan peeked over the surface; indeed, an orange blink flickered on the beach and as Heliopolis cast its rays onto the white sands, its shadows painted a crag in the cliff - fitting Dohn’s description perfectly.
The chieftain and the champion brought the warriors onto land - they all made themselves as small as possible as they snuck into the cover the beach-side forest once more. As they inched ever closer to the camp, it became clear that the Elu either didn’t have the capacity or the foresight to post guards. The dawnlight was drastically shortening their time - soon, any glance in their direction could unveil their approach. Luckily, though, it seemed that the Elu had yet to wake up. Although, come to think of it, their camp was awfully quiet.
“WAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
Jotokan and the others rubbernecked towards the hillside, where a band of thirty selka armed with wooden clubs and sharpened sticks came charging down towards them. In the front were Egii and Egoo, flanked by two other males that were complete strangers to Jotokan. The chieftain was stunned at the frightening display of their ferocious charge, their bluestone-painted faces glistening in the morning light.
“Joto! Joto!”
The chieftain turned to face Duhwah, who grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him. “What do we do?!”
Jotokan blinked and swallowed - the charge was but a hundred metres or so away now. It was clear that they had no peaceful intent in mind - their force outnumbered them by five and their war cries and banging of weaponry against the ground and trees displayed no other message than bloodlust. While he had promised himself that they would return home with clean spears, it was evident that the situation necessitated otherwise.
“Wuhdige! Ready your spears!”
The warriors all gulped and swallowed collectively as they held their spears out front in a shoddy phalanx. The foe charged all the same - in fact, it seemed as though the phalanx egged them on. The Wuhdige spears were better - longer, sharper. Still, Jotokan knew the Spirit Birds would come for a number of them. He tightened the fists around his spear and looked to his brother Joku, his cousin Toko, the champion Duhwah and his brother Dohn. They were all mighty warriors - perhaps the mightiest in the whole tribe. Still, could four great warriors plus twenty militia stand against thirty charging wildmen?
The force descended upon them. With Egii, Egoo and the two strangers leading ahead, they pierced the Wuhdige line at its centre. The line broke momentarily, but the Wuhdige pushed back. One of the strangers took a spear to the stomach and fell over dead on the spot, but his killer was immediately slaughtered by the other stranger, his eyes filled with a fury that only a brother bereaved of a brother could show. In a strange accent, he spoke, “Ye slaughtered me kin - now ye’ll all hang from the pikes!”
Duhwah shoved Jotokan behind him and deflected two incoming strikes from Egii and Egoo, both seemingly determined to end the chieftain’s rule for good. The champion thrusted, scraping up Egoo’s flank with the sharpened edge of his spear. Egoo whimpered and staggered back a little to clutch his bloody side - meanwhile, Egii seized an opportunity. The large selka jabbed the butt of his spear into Duhwah’s face, breaking the champion’s nose. Duhwah groaned sharply and retaliated with another thrust, but Egii dodged.
Duhwah thrusted again; Egii dodged.
Again - a dodge.
The champion grew furious. With a raging roar, he switched his grip into underhand and sent his spear like a harpoon straight into Egii’s chest. The tip exited on the opposite side, but Egii hadn’t fallen. He coughed up a bile of blood and phlegm, grinning wickedly at Duhwah. The champion frowned at him in furious curiousity.
“What?!”
Egii collapsed to the ground, coughed a weak laugh and pointed over Duhwah’s shoulder with a shaking finger. The champion followed the finger and turned, his skin whitening as he did.
There, not too far from where he had shoved him, Jotokan laid slain by Egoo and the stranger.
Duhwah did not want to recall the rest of the battle. They had lost utterly. Seeing the chieftain fall had broken morale completely, and the rout had cost them the rest of the force with the exception of himself, Dohn, Julo, Joku and Toko. The others were either dead, dying or had fled too far for them to see.
The pursuers had let them go after half a day’s chase through the woods and hills; still, Duhwah was certain that they were being followed. Currently, however, that was not weighing as heavily on his heart as it should - no, his heart had become a void of guilt and shame. A champion’s prime purpose is to defend the chieftain, and he had become the first one to fail. Not in an accidental way, either - he had failed because of his own temperament and stupidity. For a chance at Egii’s life, he had turned away from his mission and chased the foe into the heat of battle, leaving his leader - his friend - to die at the hands of assassins. He was a disgrace.
“Duh.”
Duhwah looked up with somber eyes. Ahead of them, the camp of Hohm made its presence clear with thick columns of smoke and numerous approaching selka. As the masses inched closer, cries for aid and whimpering made it clear that many could draw the correct conclusion of the battle. Duhwah scratched some dry blood out of his fur, and even as the selka surrounded him and the other survivors, he did not lift his eyes from the ground as he paced ever closer to the waiting, weeping family of the late chieftain.
Selenu inched closer, put a hand on Duhwah’s shoulder and sniffed. “D-Duhwah… Did… Did Jotty make it?”
The champion stopped in front of her and the children and fell to his knees, head shaking slowly. As he suppressed a whimper, he spoke a simple, somber, “no”.
Selenu sucked in a hacking gasp. Kulee leaned into her mother’s side and wailed, while Aloo and Tokkan made hard, futile attempts at locking their tears inside. Duhwah remained on the ground before them, not saying a single word. Around them, the rest of the tribe broke into wails and howls at the loss of their fathers, husbands, brothers and sons.
With glistening lines running down his cheeks, Aloo demanded with grit teeth: “Duhwah - who did it?”
The champion still didn’t raise his head. Instead, he shook it one more time. “It would do you no good to know, son - trust me, rage is a bad thing, and not one you want controlling you.”
He sucked in a breath. “We must ready up now… The Elu could attack any day.” He rose to his feet. “The Elu have new friends - we thought we would be double their men, but they overpowered us with more than we had. They’ve gotten in contact with another tribe - one that isn’t Wuhdige.”
The crowd gasped and looked at one another. It was true - the Elu had only been about ten males when they left. For them to be thirty, they would have needed a powerful ally. Frightened chatter broke out among the selka, speculations and conspiracies filling the air. Duhwah thundered, “Shut your yaps! We don’t need to start a hunt just to know who dunnit. All we gotta know is that they are many and that they are dangerous. We gotta ready the camp for an attack.”
The selka blinked at him. “How do we do that?”
Duhwah sucked in a breath. He took his spear and looked to the direction they had some from. Then, he stuck the butt end in the sand so the spear pointed in that direction at an angle. He then pointed to the spear and said, “Surround the camp with pointy sticks and stuff like this - then make chimes from fish and dog bones and hang them on sinew around this here barrier. Every night, we gotta have guards and stuff. No foragin’ at night, either - all that stuff happens during the day.”
“But how will we catch fireflies, then?” came a complaint from the back.
“Don’t! We gotta defend ourselves now,” the champion declared. He looked around. With a loss of nineteen powerful males, the Wuhdige had been severely weakened.
“We lack the men now, but we gotta do what we can to--”
“I can fix that!”
A muscular woman broke through the crowd into the centre, flanked on the right by a smaller male. Duhwah snorted a disapproving huff of hot air, for he recognised her perfectly. Before them stood Woi’e, the only female family head in the Wuhdige, flanked by her young son Owo. The Woiwoi head crossed her broad arms over a broader chest and gave Duhwah a stern look. “After all, not only men can fight.”
Duhwah grunted. “The tribe will need the females to make and raise the pups. I won’t allow i--”
“But you ain’t chief, is ya?” Woi’e retorted and nodded at Aloo who shrunk. “Jotokan’s oldest boy is.”
Duhwah rubbernecked to look at Aloo. He felt a pitying sensation well up in his chest. Aloo was just old enough, and that was the issue - they could only replace him if he seemed unfit, but Aloo had never done anything to indicate such, and the rules dictated that the champion could not lead unless the chieftain was either dead without an heir or unfit to lead. Duhwah prayed for a second that Aloo would step down - pass his title on to one of his uncles, Joku or Toko.
Instead, however, Aloo slowly straightened himself back up. The afternoon heliopolis cast a red twilight shadow over the youngling’s torso. The boy gave Woi’e a stern nod and then turned to Duhwah. “Duh, we will need all we can get. If Woi’e says she can make the females into warriors, we could get double, no, triple the strength of the Elu. We could crush them!”
Duhwah recoiled at the diction. “Boy, don’t wanna think like that…”
Aloo looked back with raging eyes. “We will beat them down and make them pay, Duhwah. They took our chief, my pa, and so many other good pas and boys!” Woi’e grinned and went over to lift Aloo onto her shoulder. From there, the new chieftain shouted, “We will make them pay!”
The vengeful cheers sounded, and with them, Duhwah swallowed a painful clump of regret. The Wuhdige would prepare themselves for war - and he was not certain it was one they could win.
The Wuhdige decide to finally deal with the Elu raids. They paint themselves with warpaint and get some bone spears and lock down the Elu camp’s location. The war party numbers 25 lads, all fully equipped with spears and rations to last the march. They get there through a mix of sneaking, walking and swimming, and when they arrive around dawn, they notice that the Elu aren’t home.
However, as soon as they do, they are ambushed from the hills by a force numbering 30, over twice as many as they thought they would fight. The bulk of the forces are all strangers, meaning they’re from a foreign tribe. The Wuhdige are initially stunned by the shock, but form a phalanx and stop the charge somewhat. However, after the strangers’ leader’s brother dies, the leader goes berserk. Duhwah pushes Jotokan back to protect him, but is egged away by Egii, who keeps dodging Duhwah’s strikes. Finally angry enough, Duhwah kills Egii with a powerful spear throw, but Egii laughs his dying laugh and points over Duhwah’s back. There, behind him, the stranger and Egoo, Egii’s brother, have killed Jotokan.
Duhwah, Julo, Joku, Toko and Dohn are the only known survivors. They return to the Wuhdige camp to an ocean of tears and crying. Duhwah sets the camp to making defenses and says they won’t have the men to defend against an attack. This is when Woi’e, family head of the Woiwoi and the only female leader in the tribe, suggests training women to be warriors. Duhwah is against it, but Woi’e informs him that Aloo is chieftain per the rules of succession. Aloo, fueled up on vengeance after the death of his father, allows it and promises the Wuhdige that the Elu will pay. Thus, the scene closes with preparations for a defense and new warriors in training.
It was a rainy morning over the Nanhese third of the Foot; patches of the woods were drenched and dripping, heavy streams pouring off the colossal fronds and leaves up top and crashing into the soil below like falling pebbles. The monsoon seasons were always exciting to the snake, for no other time of the year did the forests blossom so magnificently and the rivers flow so rampantly. The Beihese bumblebees, already heavily resistant to water and mud, buzzed about in docility despite the downpour, bringing soggy pollen along with them in neat little socks around their hind feet. Much like these industrious little creatures, the snake also found himself outside of shelter, taking in the damp view around his ship. On his lap was his guzheng which notes were both flat and sharp with weather wear. It wasn’t exactly pleasing to the ear, but the snake’s thoughts focused on other matters.
“Say, He Bo?”
The head servant, the snake’s personal butler, took one step forward from under the roof of the tower top and into the rain, his silk robes soaking instantly. “Yes, My Lord?”
The harp strings quieted and the snake lifted his head, still gazing outwards across the jungle. “Are you content?”
The servant raised a brow and bowed. “Why, yes, this servant is perfectly content, My Lord.”
The snake pursed his lips. “And, if I were to order you to speak frankly, would you repeat the sentiment?”
Before He Bo could answer, the snake added, “While I trust you wholeheartedly, worthy servant, I will remind you that I -can- see your thoughts if I so wished.”
The servant bowed again. “Once more, this servant declares its utmost joy in living for its Lord and its Lord’s family and guests.”
The snake nodded. “Good, good… But do the other servants aboard feel the same?”
“Naturally, My Lord,” He Bo said. Shengshi looked skeptical and tapped his temple twice to remind him. He Bo wrinkled his nose a little and cleared his throat. “Pardon, My Lord - force of habit.” He paused, rubbing his hands together nervously. “There… There is a… Clique, so to speak.”
“A clique?” the snake inquired.
He Bo nodded solemnly. “A most shameful band of naysayers and enemies of morale, all of whom have expressed heretical opinions of life aboard this sacred vessel - and of His Lordship’s leadership.”
The snake blinked and frowned curiously. “I see… Have you a number? How large is this clique?”
“Not large, thankfully - they number a measley one hundred or so. In a mass of ten thousand, they are but radical stragglers.”
“What castes do they belong to?” The snake put this harp aside and turned to face the servant.
“All four, My Lord, though the majority of their numbers are of the Strong caste.”
The snake sighed. “As to be expected - naturally, those who have been deemed unfit for other professions beyond those of warriors, logisticians and deckhands would rank highest in dissatisfaction. How large is the fraction of the Strong in this clique?”
“This servant confesses it may not know as much as His Lordship would like it to - though it estimates that the Strong number roughly a third of the clique’s total members. At least, according to the rumours.”
The snake hummed. “Does this clique have a name?”
“Officially, no - they have yet to garner anything but infamy and punishment, and is thus undeserving of any name beyond “the clique”.”
The snake nodded once more. “He Bo,” he said after a moment.
“Yes, My Lord?”
“Bring them to me - all of them.”
He Bo’s eyes went round for an instant, followed by a frown and a bow. “At once, My Lord.”
As the servant went off inside, the snake intertwined his fingers. He looked to the north, towards the distant peaks of Qiangshan. A thought entered his mind.
The currents below Jiangzhou reversed. The ship sailed north.
As usual, it did not take long for the snake’s will to be done. Soon his veranda hosted all one hundred and eleven “cliquettes”, which were further surrounded by another line of servants armed with bags of salt. The snake had attempted to express his disapproval for the weaponry, but his creations were much too insistent that they were needed. In the end, not even a god could win against the fanaticism of their followers.
The snake surveyed the small crowd. The white gi of the Strong did indeed dress the bulk of the clique, but among them were also silken robes of the Noble and even leather and linen of the Skilled. The black robes and hat of the Wise, however, were nowhere to be seen. It could perhaps be reasoned that the Wise were the highest caste, and took part in many of the governing decisions aboard the ship. In many ways, they set the premises for how well off they were themselves, and while several of them were the pinnacles of morality, Shengshi loathed to recall that there had been cases of corruption in the past - right underneath his own nose.
He was not invulnerable to failure, and this clique proved it.
“Welcome, dear servants,” the snake opened. All one hundred and eleven servants fell to their knees and kowtowed, although one was particularly lax about it - almost spitefully so. The snake eyed this particular one with a hard eye and beckoned for him to rise.
“You, who take so lightly to addressing your creator - what is your name?”
The servant rose, face resolute, but hands quivering. His hair and beard were unkempt, similar in sight to wild vines and bushes. The sand he took for skin was partially muddy and his gi was dirty and loose were the others had dressed in their finest clothes. In a voice tinted with fright, he spoke, “This… This servant is named Kai Shi.”
The snake rolled the name around on his tongue and hummed in a voice like thick, black oil. “May I ask what brings you to act in this manner? You, who did not even comb your hair before you came to me; you, who did not even don clean dress before the ascension up my tower; you, who have chosen to take a skin mixture which not only disharmonises your very look, but also makes you unfit for both sand-skinned and mud-skinned tasks. What brings you to act in this manner, I repeat?”
Kai Shi blinked, his brow dripping with the nervous moisture. A moment passed before he answered. “This servant wishes to protest,” the servant responded.
He Bo, who stood behind him, stuck a gloved hand into his bag of salt, but Shengshi held up a hand. He Bo sucked in several seething breaths, freezing out of sheer obedience. The snake eyed Kai Shi curiously, then the rest of the clique.
“Do all of you share this mission?”
Save for one or two headshakes, the rest all nodded. The snake hummed and asked, “What, then, is it that you wish to protest?”
The clique all looked to Kai Shi whose face now carried a faint sheen of defiant pride. “With all due respect, Your Lordship, these servants are unwilling to wait any longer to battle for the fate of their souls - His Lordship promised them fifty years ago to take up arms against the vile Wind Demon, but for all those years, all they heard was “preparations take time”. Then…” He paused and the snake hummed.
“Preparations do take time, and--”
“Then there was the failed experiment--”
The servant fell forward screaming, his back covered with snow white. In an instant, He Bo and two other servants had ripped the shabby gi in half and smeared his back with copious amounts of salt. Kai Shi laid there on the deck, surrounded by his frightened clique and a vengeful wall of fanatics. “You do -not- interrupt His Lordship, you maggot,” He Bo spat.
The snake scowled. “Stand down,” he thundered and slithered through the crowd over to the squirming man. With a slight twist of his hand, he extracted the salt from his body and collected it into a small, white pebble in his hand. “He Bo - you and the others may leave.”
He Bo blinked. “B-but My Lord, they--”
“-They- are guests in my tower, and whatever they say, I am certain I can handle. Now, please, leave us.”
With hung heads, the loyalists entered Shengshi’s room through the veranda doors and descended into the palace. Only the one hundred and eleven cliquettes remained with the snake now. He hummed pensively. “Does this happen often?”
Kai Shi looked around and many of his companions nodded solemnly. “Our peers do not take kindly to our views, Your Lordship. His Lordship is our creator, after all, and to speak against Him is, well… Heresy.”
The snake pursed his lips and tugged at his beard. “An unfortunate devolution of blind loyalty - one I am guilty in fostering. Interruptions are uncalled for, yes, but nothing to salt a person for, even if it was me you interrupted.” With a dismissive wave, the snake clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Does anything else upset you about life here?”
A second servant rose, this one dressed in the Noble caste long tunic of a cleaner. She bowed. “My Lord,” she began, “This servant confesses to heretical thoughts - a wish to live off the Jiangzhou.”
The snake held up a palm. “Tone down the self-accusations of heresy. To want to live somewhere else is not heresy. Though I must ask, is it the ship that bothers you, or my leadership?”
The servant’s lips quivered and she appeared petrified. The other servants tipped deeper in their kowtow. She stuttered, her lips forming words without sound to back them up. The snake nodded. “I see.” He sucked in a breath. “It is odd how one changes throughout life - and how one remains the same.”
The servants eyed him curiously. The cleaner blinked. “My Lord?” she said.
The snake sighed and shook his head. “I still have ways to grow as a master, I see.” She scowled momentarily. “I confess, much to my own shame, that I am absolutely livid within. A part of me wants to curse you all - pluck you apart grain by grain, drop by drop, until the spirits within you gives out. Such ingratitude, such disloyalty…”
The servants shook collectively. Some broke into tears and wails. Others laid themselves as flat as they could and chanted prayers of forgiveness. Kai Shi gave the cleaner a look of pride, even as his lips shook and his eyes flowed. The cleaner herself clutched her chest as if a pang of guilt had blown a hole in it. However, the snake raised a hand and the wailing seized.
“However, I have already made this mistake once, punishing ingratitude with suffering… Or twice - at this point, I do not quite recall the number of times I have gone against my own teachings, which either says to me that my teachings are naive - or that I am a moralless despot.” He looked outwards at the recovering, sniffing crowd. “I free you all from any punishment based on your utterings against me for a whole minute. Any insult, any criticism - I will take it all.”
The servants looked at one another.
“Well, go on, then.”
“You tyrant!” the cleaner shouted. The snake recoiled a little.
“Well, that is perhaps a little--”
“Populistic liar!” Kai Shi roared.
“Alright, alright, I will accept that one, but--”
“You never practice what you preach!”
“His Lordship is a foolish drunk!”
“Slaver! Despot! Blind coward!”
“Since when have I been a coward?!”
“Alliance breaker!”
“Yes! That one I absolutely agree wi--!”
“You think lifting crates for eternity is a life?!”
“At least let me finish, but alright, alright, valid point.”
“You are selfish and arrogant!”
“Oh! The minute has passed!” The crowds fell silent, all of them suddenly feeling the stings of fright and fear as they inspected the shocked snake. The god, however, merely scratched his temple and hummed. “Good heavens, no one has spoken to me like that since Kalmar. Hearing it from mortals is, in all honesty, utterly infuriating.” He sucked in a breath. “I gave you my word, though - no punishment regardless of the words spoken. I confess, however, you went a little beyond my expectations, to put it mildly.” He patted his chest. “Wow… Do you really all feel this way?”
The crowd unanimously nodded. The snake deflated.
“I… See. Well,” he sucked in a breath, “I suppose I will give you leave to find yourselves a new master.”
The servants’ eyes all went wide. Kai Shi stepped forward. “... Really, Your Lordship?”
The snake nodded solemnly. “Well, yes, keeping you here is, well… What a tyrant would do, is that not so?”
The servants looked at one another. Kai Shi frowned and bowed. “These servants are incredibly grateful, but… Where would they go?”
The snake sighed. “You cannot live without a river nearby… As it so happens, I know of a place that will be fitting for you. A cradle in which to start anew and explore your newfound autonomy.”
With that, the ship which had arrived at the Giant’s Bath, soared off into the sky eastwards, carried on a constantly changing and renewing river.
The ship floated down over a green streak in the endless oceans, topped with white peaks along almost its entire length. To the north and west were faint islets, and the mainland beneath shone with colourful woods which seemed to emit their own lights.
Istais.
The ship landed on Lihe River, a section by the foot of a mountain, and a staircase flooded up along the hull, connecting the deck to the shore. The servants had all gathered on the deck before the group of one hundred and eleven that were standing before the staircase. The snake wrinkled his nose, looking reluctant. However, he then turned to the crowd behind him and shouted commandingly, “If anyone wishes to go with them, they will be allowed to do so unspoiled. Know, however, that this will be your only chance to. Any later attempt to join this enclave will be considered desertion, punishable by death.”
The crowd remained steadfast. He Bo gave the snake fanatically loyal stare. The snake nodded at him and turned back to the leavers. “So be it, then. My servants, as generosity is the greatest feat of a lord and king, I will grant you one final gift before you part.”
The snake waved a hand. There, in the mountain wall above them, stone and sand seemed to blow away on the wind. Iron formed into red roof tiles that topped tall stone towers and houses, stacked along the cliffsides into a grand and great temple. All the servants stared in awe. Between the tall buildings ran a river made of glacier runoff. It was perfect. With one exception.
Kai Shi looked up at Shengshi. “My Lord, forgive this servant for asking, but how will they keep warm? The mountains are cold and their bodies will freeze come winter.”
The snake nodded. “Worry not, for the temple will never reach temperatures below freezing. As long as you remain in its vicinity, you will never turn to ice.”
The servants looked at one another and grinned. They fell to their knees and kowtowed, with Kai Shi in the front.
“Thank You, Your Lordship. While these servants may leave Your sacred vessel, they assure His Lordship that they will remain faithful to him with prayer and sacrifices.”
The snake nodded. “Very good. You are free to go.”
And so the servants ran excitedly down the stairs and hurried off towards the temple. As they disappeared from the view of those aboard the ship, He Bo turned to Shengshi.
“My Lord, a temple which will remain warm despite the season… Yet that will be encased in snow most of the year - is that not just a prison?”
In a voice like oil, the snake replied, “Perhaps.”
Kai Shi in his dirty rags led the enthusiastic group of servants towards the foot of the mountain, and as they began to climb, the cleaner who had introduced herself as Tu Shui, poked the leader on the shoulder. Kai Shi turned to see the grinning face and chuckled. “What?”
“Well, now that we’re free, what should we call ourselves?”
Kai Shi hopped over a small stone and reached out to help Tu Shui, frowning all the while. “Call ourselves? Why, we’re servants, aren’t we?”
Tu Shui returned the frown. “No! Not anymore! We’re free, Kai! Free to call ourselves whatever we want!”
Others echoed her words and cheered. Kai Shi hummed. “Well, alright. What should we call ourselves, then?”
One in the crowd raised her hand. “How about the Free?”
Kai Shi shook his head. “No, it’s too simple. Besides, including a ‘the’ in our name makes it hand to conjugate.”
Another hand. “Liberated!”
Kai Shi wrinkled his nose. “How would you even pluralise that? More liberateds? No, no. Next one.”
Tu Shui raised her hand with a cheshire grin about her face. Kai Shi nodded for her to continue. “Liberite.”
Kai Shi pursed his lips in thoughts. Many others nodded. “Liberites, huh,” the ragged man mumbled. He mouthed the various forms of the word and nodded weakly. “Yeah, could work.”
“Also, we will from now on address each other as friends, family. No more of this servile nonsense,” Tu Shui declared. Kai Shi motioned for her to slow down.
“Woah, calm down now. We’ve only just gotten our freedom.”
“So? What is there to keep from the ancient customs aboard the Jiangzhou? Ranks? Castes? Out with it! We are equal - you and I are equal. He and she are both equal. Uniforms, too--” The crowd gathered around and cheered her on as she ripped the tunic from her body and stood there for all to see, her sand-covered body glistening in the light of Heliopolis. Kai Shi blinked skeptically, but Tu Shui was soon lifted above all and carried up the mountain to the song of cheers and praise. The ragged servant tugged at his unkempt beard and sighed.
He hoped at least some tradition would remain by the time they got to the top.
Snake wonders if He Bo is happy, and he says he is, but reveals that a small fraction of the Servants are unhappy. The snake asks him to gather these servants up and finds that they number 111. Led by a man named Kai Shi, they mainly protest Sheng’s unwillingness to actually go to war right away, as well as express dissatisfaction with Sheng’s leadership. Sheng encourages them to speak their minds, which he later regrets when they bombard him with insults and criticism. The snake, shocked, decides to give them a new home on Istais, in the temple complex of the Temple of Heaven. The servants run happily up there, but on the way decide that, since they’re free, they should rename themselves to Liberites. Furthermore, under the leadership of Tu Shui the Cleaner, they abandon the caste and class traditions as well as uniforms.
Shengshi before: 0MP/4FP 1FP - Build monument: The Temple of Heaven. A large temple complex that stays warm (above freezing) despite the season without additional heating required. Shengshi after: 0MP/3FP
Heliopolis hung in the centre of the sky like a great pyre, but the miniscule heat it provided at this time of day did not dull the sharp knives on the frozen wind. Like only the most traditional of Wuhdige winters, there was little else in sight but ice and snow wherever one looked. Even some of the trees, which in all other parts of the year stood taller than three selka, were now completely buried underneath layers upon layers of white. The Wuhdige had grown accustomed to winter - no, that wasn’t the problem. Winter to a selka was just the time of year they had to huddle a little closer when they slept. If anything, it felt nice to fall asleep hugging your family.
No, the problem was the fragility of the ever-sprawling burrow diggings. A few years ago, it had not been a problem at all - sure, a few would be buried under the snow and there would be great efforts to dig them out again - especially if there still were Wuhdige inside.
However, now, demand was simply too great. Jotokan, Selenu and Duhwah lead both combined and divided efforts to aid those in need, prioritising saving Wuhdige trapped in caved-in burrows. This year was unlike any that had preceded it - more burrows than ever before had collapsed, leaving a staggering number of Wuhdige locked in prisons of snow until they either were saved or the fresh air ran out.
In the chaos, more and more Wuhdige flocked to the Home Cave, which already was beyond full and unable to house more. Jotokan would wake up every morning to the sound of shouts and outcry from angry tribesmen- and women outside the cave mouth, furious that the cave would not be shared. So it was that Jotokan went down to the beach at dawn and begun to pray. The Wuhdige pantheon was perhaps not the most extensive, consisting of primarily four deities, but he knew old Yop, God of the Sky and of Throwing Things Really, Really Hard, had a finger on this weather-induced pie plate, whatever a plate was.
“Ol’ Yop… This is, uh, Jotokan speaking. Listen, we’re having a really bad time right now. Houses are going poof and fluff every day and more and more Wuhdige ain’t got a home no more. Please, You Who Throws Things Really Hard, we know you throw snow, too - could you, uh, please just stop throwing snow for a little bit? Just so we can redig and rebuild?”
For a moment, nothing happened, and Jotokan wondered if he had been too impolite. Then, he saw a strange form on the horizon - a selka? No, no, it couldn’t be. It was much too big… And it glistened in the heliopolis?
The distant figure was walking across the ice sheet. It paused in its walk and seemed to look towards the coast. Then it turned and moved towards the coast; its movements seemed natural, but it was approaching at an astonishing pace. The blue-white figure had seemed small when standing on the horizon, but closer up its enormous scale was unmistakable. With a few more strides the figure had made it to the coast.
The figure was made of solid ice and stood about fifty selka tall. The figure was vaguely selka-like, in that it had the right configuration of limbs, with effeminate curves in the icy body. Despite the vast size, the ice sheet had no trouble supporting the figure. The figure bent over, bringing her face closer to Jotokan. Frozen eyes stared down at the selka, waiting.
The chieftain looked about as frozen as the figure in front of him, and more and more selka were gathering around or running away from the marvel. Duhwah and a few of the braver ones came running to the front of the crowd with club-like ice taps and bone-tipped spears, hollering and roaring. The champion threw Jotokan a spear and the chieftain broke out of his panicked stupor to rise up and grab it. He clutched the oak shaft hard in his furred hands and pointed the tip towards the massive figure.
“Is-... Is that you, Lugo?” he said carefully.
The figure stared down Jotokan a few moments longer. A chill ran down the selka’s spine and over his scalp, and a shiver ran down from his head to his toes. The icy figure’s eyes glanced briefly at the spears and clubs, then she straightened up.
“Is this how you greet a goddess?” roared a voice like an avalanche.
The selka nearly collectively dropped their weapons as the voice like nature’s wrath thundered across the beach. Standing there shivering more out of fright than freeze, only a select few voices dared whisper uncertainly to one another: “Goddess? I thought Lugo was a man.”
“Yeah, yeah, he is - is, uh, is this Alae, maybe?”
“No, no, no - Alae’s not icy - she’s… Uh…”
“It’s a super-lady!”
“Shush, you!”
Jotokan broke the mumbling silence and raised a pair of surrendering hands in the air. “We’re-... We’re sorry, tall one! We mistook you for a… Uhm… A not-goddess! Please, we ain’t meaning to be mean, we just wanna protect our families! Ain’t everyday we see a massive monst--goddess, ‘s all!”
There was a disgruntled huff from above, accompanied by a chill breeze. “Now that you are aware, I expect a proper greeting.”
The selka looked at one another. Gulps of anxiety bounced through the crowd. Then a hand was raised in the centre of the crowd, followed by a sweet, “hello!” Quickly, the others followed suit, and soon, the whole crowd were waving happily and greeting the ice giant as a friend.
“It appears you have much to learn,” said a voice like freezing water, “First, respect. I am a god and you are mere mortals, thus you should not greet me as an equal. An appropriate form of greeting towards someone who is your superior is to bow.”
The selka once more exchanged glances. Then slowly, they shuffled apart to give each other some more room before bowing in disunion, looking more like ocean waves on a stormy day. Jotokan bowed twice more to make certain he got it right. “Did we do it right?”
“It was adequate,” said a voice like crunching snow. She then looked inland. “You had a need,” she stated.
“O-oh, you heard that? S-so…” Jotokan eyed her up and down, then turned to Duhwah with a shrug, receiving one in return. “I guess Lugo is a woman after all, huh.”
“You fight against the snow and ice to make your homes. However, homes may be built from snow,” the goddess said. A massive arm gestured behind the group of selka, who turned to see that a dome of snow had appeared. There was a hole at the base of the dome large enough for a selka to crawl through, and the interior was large enough for a selka to stand in.
The selka jumped into each other’s arms, while some of the more curious cubs waddled inside for a looksie. One came out and said, “Is warm in there,” then put her hand in her mouth in a shy manner. The selka, yet again, exchanged glances.
“It is insulating. It is structurally sound if built properly. And it is within your capacity to build, if I teach you,” said the goddess.
Jotokan dug about in his vocabulary for adequate words while he bowed. “Th-thank you, great and powerful Lugo! It ain’t been easy this winter, so we are really thankful for your help!” He made a small frown. “Would you like anything as payment if you teach us how to make it? We got lotsa fish!”
“Lotsa fish, lotsa fish,” the crowd echoed happily.
“Offerings of fish are an appropriate expression of gratitude,” the goddess said. “However, there is another thing you can do. I seek beauty, and currently your homes are undecorated. I can show you a way to decorate your homes and produce beauty.”
“Beauty?” Duhwah inquired with a scratch of the head. “How’d we go about doing that?”
“Like drawing on the home cave walls?” Aloo suggested, backed up by a shrug from his little sister Kulee.
“Or making fish bone sculptures!” Julo proposed.
“Have you ever done that before?”
“Well, no, but it’d be fun to try!”
A small smile curled up the frozen lips of the goddess, and a light burble echoed from within. “What I will teach you shall help in that. Before that, I shall show you how to make the snow houses. First, you must find appropriate snow, a layer of hard-packed snow which ideally formed in a single snowfall…”
“Ugh, yuck! Not in the face!”
“But you look so pretty with it!”
Selenu drew a few more circles and lines of yellow across the young girl’s face, though her defiant movements made them a little squiggly. The paint was composed of fine clays and cave water, the sources of which had been revealed thanks to Lugo’s blessings almost a year ago. Since then, the walls of Home Cave had flourished with colour and joy, with stories and pictures. Each clan had made a symbol to represent and distinguish themselves, mostly because they thought logos looked pretty sweet and gave an even greater sense of identity beyond common names and relatives.
Kulee finally managed to wave her mother’s eager hands away. “Alright, alright! Can I go now, please?”
Selenu sighed. “Fine, but make sure you let the paint dry before you go playing in the snow!”
“Yes, mom!”
Kulee ran into the snowy outside - there, the whole tribe were going about their day with games, paintings, fishing or maintenance of the whole new kind of home - the igloo. Thanks to these domes of snow, the families of the Wuhdige no longer suffered great cave-ins in their burrows, although asphyxiation had been a problem before someone thought to put air holes in the top. Apparently, smoke wasn’t very good for the common selka.
The selka around the camp were all thoroughly painted in browns, reds and yellows. Kulee kept an excited jog down towards the beach, where Jotokan, Duhwah, Julo, and other patriarchs were gathering for the weekly offering. As had become the norm, all who sacrificed to Lugo painted onto themselves stripes and rings of the most precious paint on the island - lapis lazuli. According to the grown-ups, the champion Duhwah had to travel all the way to the southern tip to find this divine, blue rock, braving dangerous beasts and vengeful Elu raiders. Even then, the stone was apparently incredibly hard to find.
Jotokan lifted his arms into the air. Kulee hid behind a snowmound and did her best to peek over without exposing too much of her bright yellow face. The surrounding patriarchs all grabbed a fish and lifted it into the air. The chieftain spoke, “Oh, great and colourful Lugo! Once more, the Wuhdige present to you a weekly meal so that you may eat again!” The patriarchs all put down their fishes, dipped one hand each into the many surrounding bowls filled with brown pigment mixed with wolf fat. With the paint, they drew neat little drawings on the flanks of their fish of what they had done that week: Jotokan drew a rough approximation of a selka pointing at other selka building a mound-- no, wait, that’s an igloo; Duhwah drew himself lifting another one of himself - only the other self was flexing; Julo drew a selka looking out to the sea - or, well, a pear next to some squiggly lines with a fish underneath. Each patriarch then stood up and held the fishes up high once more.
“We once again really ‘preciate the nice and amazing gifts you have given us! We hope we’re making the kind of art you wanted!”
With that, all the fish were lobbed into a large hole in the ice, where they floated awkwardly for a moment before a few went over with sticks and pushed them underneath. The patriarchs nodded at each other, satisfied with another good sacrifice. They shook hands and all went about their business once more - except for Jotokan.
Kulee peeked over the mound once more. The adults had dispersed - but what she had seen had been awesome. Oh, she couldn’t wait to join in on the sacrifices one d--
“BOO!”
Kulee flew into the air like a thrown rock and landed on the other side of the mound. Where she had knelt stood Jotokan cackling wildly. The little girl gave her father a surly frown. “Paaa! That was mean!”
“What? Can’t take a little boo every now and then?” Jotokan teased. “You gotta be ready for anything if you wanna be a true Wuhdige.”
Kulee got to her feet and let out a “hmph”. “Pa, when can I join the offerings? I wanna draw drawings for Lugo, too!”
Jotokan’s smirk faded and he put his hands on his hips. “Only the family pas can make the offerings, so it’ll be your brother Aloo who does it when the Spirit Bird comes for me.”
Kulee frowned. “Why it gotta be like that?”
“Well, all life gotta pass on, you know, and--”
“No, I mean, why just the pas?” Kulee inquired.
Jotokan furrowed his brow. “W-well… That’s how it’s always been.”
“No, we started offering to Lugo less than a year ago, pa - why can’t we change it?”
Jotokan sighed and knelt down beside his daughter. “Look, Kulee - in Wuhdige tradition, the boy does all the heavy stuff, like lifting and offering, and the girl does all the not-heavy stuff, like foraging and baby-sitting. That’s how it’s been for a long time now - ever since gramgrampa Tokuan.”
Kulee seemed unsatisfied. “But why it gotta be like that? Ma’s really strong - she could probably lift rocks like you.”
Jotokan wrinkled his nose. “W-well, because, uhm-...”
“Why, pa?” Kulee repeated.
Jotokan sighed again and looked to the Home Cave. “Tell you what - I’ll think about it, how about that? You can’t just break tradition like that - gotta have a good reason.”
Kulee knew her father well enough to know that such a response meant the discussion was over. Quietly, she nodded and followed her father inside.
“Pa?” she asked as they entered the cave.
“Yes, Kulee?”
“Why is offering heavy work?”
Jotokan hummed. “You ask a lot of questions today, huh.”
Winter is not going well for the Wuhdige tribe. Heavy snow is collapsing their hole-in-the-ground homes and burying selka alive.
Jotokan tries praying for help. Then, over the frozen horizon, walks a ~80 metre tall person made of ice - it’s Ashalla. She’s claimed the Ice Portfolio, and has adopted a new form of solid ice.
The selka panic and assemble their warriors to point spears at her. This displeases Ashalla; she teaches them how to respect the gods.
Despite the rough start, Ashalla (who gets identified as Lugo, Wuhdige god of fish, water and the ice sheet, by the Wuhdige) is here to help. She teaches them how to build igloos, and also how to make and use paint.
The Selka make some fancy paintings and igloos over the next six months, as well as a weekly ritual to sacrifice to Lugo, in which fish painted with the weekly doings of the family patriarchs are thrown into the sea.
Kulee, daughter of Jotokan, wonders why girls can’t sacrifice as it’s the patriachs’ job, and Jotokan fails to explain it, reasoning that girls can’t sacrifice because it goes against tradition. Kulee seems adamant that that’s a dumb reason, and Jotokan seems uneager to change it. The post ends on a questioning note.
Might Summary Ashalla Start: 9 MP & 1 FP Spent: 5 MP to obtain the Ice Portfolio 1 MP (discounted by Ice Portfolio) for a new form - a giant figure of ice. 0 FP (discounted by Ice Portfolio) to teach the Wuhdige about igloos. 1 FP to teach the Wuhdige about paint. End: 3 MP & 0 FP Portfolios: 8/10 Colour 5/10 Music
Name:Ethelsten of Wisserbury Title:Apothecary of Her Majesty Parrel the Queen’s Monastery Hospital of Wisserbury Age:Early middle-age, approaching his late thirties. Appearance:
In terms of physical brawn, Ethelsten has little of note - being a most stereotypical scholar, he is scrawny and weak, albeit not short of stamina. Thus, while he may not have any considerable bulk, his body has some resemblance of tonation. He stands a little shorter than the average man, though he has the straight, proud posture of a human raised under the wings of nobles.
Ethelsten’s head and face are characterised by a weak, overbitten jaw and puffy lips, which he hides underneath a thick, full and well-kept beard of whitening chestnut hair. His nose, in contrast, is straight and proper, its delicately-shaped bridge running up to separate into two bushy eyebrows darkening a pair of racoon-ringed, verdant eyes, and bordering a forehead wrinkled by years of intrigue. His hair runs long and full down to the top of his neck, covering both his small ears unless tied in a tail.
The clothing worn by Ethelsten normally consists of a white linen shirt for the inner layer, covered then with brown leather tunic followed by a long, beige robe for outdoor travel. Knee-long pantaloons of linen cover his nethers, completed by woolen long socks and a pair of good boots that reach about as high. Usually, the apothecary wears a tall, pointy, white hat that pulls the hair away from his forehead and leaves him looking bald.
Background Information:
Ethelsten grew up in Illistair as an adopted son of a childless section of House Filsroix-Dunberg, a once-small union between two merchant families that had grown into a powerful clan to rival some of the greater politicians in prosperity, wealth and position. While he did not grow up under the wing of the main family, his parents’ connections to the other relatives gave Ethelsten valuable friends and allies throughout his youth, granting him access to various tutors and collections of literature. In his early teens, he especially fell in love with the studies of biology and medicine, particularly Parrellian medicine and the works of the Queen’s Apothecariate. As he read on and on, he began to experiment on his own - he would eagerly run around the gardens of his parents’ townhouse in search of wounded birds and animals and bring along his concoctions and bandages. Some, he saved - others, well… Progress requires sacrifice. Then one day, as Ethelsten was making his way home from the library, he heard a pained squeal. Like the surrounding civilians, he rushed to the source of the cry only to find a man surrounded by two peers, bethieved of one leg thanks to clumsy axe strike by a third pale and motionless peer, whose shock still kept him from dropping the blood-dripping axe. All who saw knew the man were long for this world.
All but Ethelsten.
The lad did not hesitate. He shoved and pushed aside the people in his way, all the while stabbing his hands into his satchel that he kept with him at all times these days. From it he extracted his tourniquet, a leather strap with an iron buckle where the leather was tied to a handle, and as many linen bandages and handkerchiefs as he could find. He knelt down next to the man, much to the surprise of the onlookers. Although they discouraged him from helping, reasoning that even if a child like him could somehow stop the massive bleeding, the man would likely die of infections in a month at most. Even the man’s peers looked skeptically at Ethelsten preparing a flask of barley wine after the tourniquet had been set. As the now-fainted man’s leg was drenched in nose-stingingly strong barley wine, a flock of guards broke through the wall of onlookers. There, they marveled momentarily at the deft, young hands wrapping the bloody leg in white strips and sheets, and one of them in particular made note of the young physician’s face. This guardsman was in truth not a guardsman at all, as his dress much indicated. As fate would have it, this man had been escorted around the quarter by these very guards, and the man’s beige robes, sigiled leather satchel and white, linen hat perfectly described his profession:
An apothecary.
After Ethelsten had finished, the apothecary knelt down beside him and ran his ageing eyes over the handiwork, noting everything from the zig-zagging pattern of the bandages to the brown stains of wine. Ethelsten, meanwhile, was shocked to see the robes and sigils of the order he had read so much about throughout his life - he struggled to control the beats of his heart.
The apothecary ordered the guards to fetch a stretcher and stood up, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. Ethelsten rocketed to his feet and looked down. For an uncomfortable pause, the apothecary said nothing. Ethelsten was certain that the master had uncovered a mistake - the bandage was too loose; the barley wine, too weak; the--
A warm hand squeezed his shoulder. Ethelsten looked up at the smiling, shaven face and then at the apothecary’s other hand, in which laid a sigil.
“Take this to your parents, son. Tell them Estebahn of Wisserbury gave it to you.”
Ethelsten knew that name. He had seen it on the covers of countless tomes - a legend in the world of medicine. Too awestruck to even formulate a response, he was left in the alley, surrounded by crowds that managed to absorb the gravity of the situation before him. Much faster than his sensations could return was Ethelsten tossed into the air as a hero. A warmth manifested in him - a joy and a dedication. He would devote his life to the practices of the Apothecariate, and he would aid every person he could. So he swore as he soared up and down above the crowd throughout the alley.
The boy brought the sigil back to his family and told his parents what he had done. Both could hardly believe it, but the sigil was in his hand and Ethelsten had never been much of a pickpocket. Thus he was sent to Her Majesty Parrel the Queen’s Monastery Hospital of Wisserbury, a section of the academic quarter, and there, the boy quickly grew into a man under the guidance of his mentor Estebahn, and his skill only improved as time went on. However, as he aged and the praise built up, a blackness of vanity filled his once altruistic heart. His connections to his family had made life at the monastery quite comfortable for him and his friends, though his high spending and standard of living upset some of his older peers. As Ethelsten neared his thirties, he had become an integral part of the monastery’s daily affairs, having been elected to serve among the high apothecaries. It would be one black day in his thirty-sixth year that all of his work would be taken away from him.
A shipment of wounded from outside the gate came to the monastery - nothing was out of the ordinary in that regard. Such events were weekly, or even daily at times. Ethelsten donned his robes and approached his patient, a young guardsman whose day at work had likely been his first. The apothecary was confident in his skill, however - today would not be his last.
“... The crown…”
Ethelsten looked up. The guardsman was looking at him with groggy eyes - or looking past him. It was unclear whether he was truly conscious, but nevertheless, Ethelsten had been certain the lad had said something.
“... The crown…” the lad repeated. Now Ethelsten was certain. He wrapped the final strips of linen around the cut on the guard’s leg and approached his head.
“What crown?”
“... The crown…”
The guard was evidently much too wary to answer his question. However, just as he was returning to work, Ethelsten noticed a gilded glimpt in the box of the patient’s belongings. He shot a sideways glance at the guard - the poppies were beginning to take effect. The only noise in the room were two breaths - one slow and dull; the other quick with anticipation. Ethelsten approached the box and duck around quietly. There, underneath a coin pouch and a sweaty shirt, was indeed a golden crown, more beautiful than any jewelry he had even laid his eyes on. He removed his hat and tried it on. It was a perfect fit, even for his sharp skull.
Another sideways glance aimed at the patient left his eyes. He asked himself so: What would a simple guardsman do with such a beautiful artifact? Sell it, naturally, then gamble away the money. No - no, no, no. Ethelsten couldn’t allow that. It was far too valuable for such a fate. No - it was Ethelsten’s duty to take it, take it and…
Huh, what would he personally do with it?
Ethelsten looked back to the histories he had read as a child - some of them features crowns, and those adorned the heads of kings and queens. Once more, he planted the crown on his head, this time walking over to a wide, green glass flask on his shelf to mirror himself in it.
Yes… He knew exactly what to do with it.
There came a weak groan from the bed behind him and Ethelsten nearly threw the crown across the room as he pulled it off. He would have to be careful - already he had enemies at the top. Him stealing from patients would be a most perfect pin to stick in his wheels. He stuffed the crown in his satchel and continued as usual.
When the patient woke up from his poppy-induced coma, he asked groggy questions, most regarding a certain shiny crown he was certain he had brought with him. Ethelsten gave him a smile and a pat on the shoulder.
“Son, hallucinations are common after blood loss.”
“But, Master Ethelsten… I was certain I-...”
The guardsman was sent on his merry way back on duty later that day, thoroughly convinced that it had all been a dream. Ethelsten locked the door to his room. For the first time in nearly a week, he dared open his satchel. The golden glitter within sent tremors through his bones and sparks through his veins. He reached inside and felt the cold, clean metal against his fingertips. Softly, he wrapped his hand around it and--
“Ethelsten?” came a voice followed by a series of knocks. Ethelsten sucked in a panicked breath and satcheled the crown once more, swinging the bag behind his back. He dusted himself off and opened the door. On the other side stood his old mentor Estebahn, over-ripened with the type of age that turned his currently grinning face into a nightmarish scowl. Of course, the two of them shared nothing like the friendship they once had had - their relationship had suffered greatly as Ethelsten had grown wiser, better, arrogant, and Estebahn, older, stricter, paranoid. The once-inseparable teacher and student relationship had been drowned in bitter acids of rivalry.
Ethelsten knew why he was here and opened as they once had, inciting an even more malicious smirk from his former mentor. “Oh, we are merely here for a quick look-over. A sister informed us that a patient of yours had dropped something on the way out and we would like to help you find it.”
Ethelsten had begun to sweat. No one had been with him throughout the whole procedure - the nurse who had undressed his patient was among his most trusted. Had she betrayed him? Had she perhaps been one of his informants all along?
“What would that be?” Ethelsten had responded as calmly as he could. “Certainly, if he left something behind, I shall find it right away and have it sent to the barracks.”
“Yes, you see - it may be faster if we look together.”
“I really don’t think that’s--”
“Look, I even brought some friends to aid us further.” Behind Estebahn had flanked guards. Ethelsten had felt a surge of panic in his belly, and the grinning elder could smell the terror reeking from him like a horrid perfume. The elder smacked his lips over greening teeth and paling gums as he stepped inside.
“Where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“You know what I’m talking about, son.” The elder’s tone quickly lost the false affection he had forced earlier. Now the guards had surrounded Ethelsten and the apothecary blinked in every direction, desperate for an exit. In his panic, he thought of a single sentence.
“What would you do with it?”
The elder pursed his wrinkly lips and hummed. “... I haven’t given it much thought.” He shot Ethelsten a sharp sneer. “What would you?”
It was at that point that one of Ethelsten’s closest allies and friends, Gadwick, arrived at the commotion and bellowed, “What is going on here?!”
Despite the elder’s best efforts, neither him nor the guards could avoid a growing crowd now that they had been discovered. No matter the crime of the culprit, one did not kill someone inside a monastery to Parrel the Queen - not so all could see, anyway. Estebahn was forced to retreat, granting Ethelsten the opportunity he needed.
He told Gadwick and his other friends as much as he could afford to and explained that his enemies had grown brave and impatient. He would have to flee the monastery - perhaps even the city. His friends agreed, and so they aided him first out of the monastery, then out into the wilderness aboard a peasant’s cart.
There, armed with nothing but a hidden dagger and the knowledge in his head, the apothecary remained, letting the beast dragging the cart decide where he would go next. However, it wouldn’t truly decide. In his satchel of supplies laid, after all, his destiny.
Personality:
While Ethelsten is very much a sociable and amiable character, he may be perceived as arrogant and patronising to some. He also has a tendency to favour a wealthy lifestyle and can be of the complaining sort if achieving such is impossible. He is ambitious and to a certain degree altruistic, though the childlike joy from helping people has been replaced by a more cynical care for the money and knowledge granted to him for his work. Summarised, Ethelsten can be described as kind, yet arrogant and corrupt. His favourite food is roast pheasant with bread and gravy.
Points to spend: 15
Physical
Might:The output of the body, and how much strength it can deliver. A child among men (1)
Coordination:The skill of the body, and how reflexive, accurate and precise it is. Reflexes of a tree (1)
Fortitude:The input of the body, and how much stress it can withstand. Skin of paper (1)
Psycho
Intellect:The power of the mind, and how well it absorbs and recalls information. The scholar (5)
Wisdom:The skill of the mind, and how well it applies all forms of knowledge to a solution. Wise (4)
Willpower:The truth of the mind, and how much stress it can withstand. Plenty of will (3)
Skills and Training:
Ethelsten is a gifted and trained physician and apothecary, as well as a seasoned alchemist, biologist and mathematician. He is familiar enough with the doctrines of Parrel the Queen to offer priest work, as well.
His most impactful memory is the day he saved the peasant and got his position at the monastery hospital.
As long as the peoples of Pertovia have worshipped the Queen, there have existed those that follow the path of the physician. They started out as a union of medicinemen and shamans who found comfort and purpose in her words and love, seeking to replicate it on Pertovia through the act of rescuing others from bitter death. This movement quickly organised itself in small camps known as Homes of Healing where the sick and wounded would be treated free of charge, and medicine could be studied and debated.
Over time, the movement grew and the need for greater control and infrastructure grew, as well. As the number of patients quickly spiraled to an impossible number to treat, some began to demand fees of food and valuables to balance the stress of work. At first, the fees were quite low, and some medicinemen grew incredibly rich due to their deft skill and shrewd sense of business. These wealthy medicinemen began hiring the others in the order that they deemed fit to work for them, paying them in food rations. All who worked for them were obligated to charge a fee when treating their patients, a percentage of which would be given to their leader. Now, most of their weakest patients could no longer afford treatment, and were forced to look elsewhere. Some of the shamans saw this as a gross violation against the code of Parrel, and thus left the movement to travel to other parts of the country, starting similar movements over again.
Those that did remain hired builders and crafters to turn the Homes of Healing into great stone castles, to honour Parrel, of course, but mostly to elevate themselves to what they felt they deserved to be: kings and queens. As their once humble camps grew into castles, guards and specialists needed to be hired - people congregated around these sources of health and wisdom, and as did the Filth. It is not known how many of these monasteries have fallen to the Filth, be it either through direct destruction or slow corruption from within, but around Pertovia, there are colossal ruins engraved with desperate final prayers to Parrel, signed with apologies for neglect.
It was not until recent years that this movement which has risen and fallen all over the country for hundreds, if not thousands of years, found a haven of safety in Illistair. With such great walls and well-trained guards in employment of the mayor, the now-dubbed Apothecariate of Her Majesty Parrel the Queen could concentrate their funds elsewhere. Thus, the greatest monastery on the island was built: Her Majesty Parrel the Queen’s Monastery Hospital of Wisserbury, with extensive capacity for both patients and students. If one wishes to become an apothecary, this is the place to learn.
Apart from within certain monasteries, the order has little to no communications with other factions, and can by no means be considered one great organised effort that spans Pertovia. They simply exist all over for a time until they either fade away, break apart or are destroyed by the Filth. In addition to Wisserbury, there are two other operational monastery hospitals on the island: Osterbury, a small church to Pertovia on the outskirts of Illistair - lately, they have suffered greatly at the hands of the Filth and are at the brink of collapse; and Nursenbury, a large monastery in Jornoston led by a cult of Parrel with a particularly disliked spin on the Queen’s canon.
An ocean of red sweet grass stretched as far as the eye could see. Here and there a small divet formed from stampeding trees pocked its flat surface, collecting water and thirsty wildlife. The expert eye knew that if you ever saw a swarm of cloudlings huddled by the ground, that an unseen puddle was hiding behind the mound. It was with this knowledge that Altansarnai decided to leap over the swarm, her leather boot slamming into the plush ground on the other side. She shot a black eyed look behind her, a sharp smile forming on her face: she was right.
She pumped her arms and pushed her legs forward into a sprint. Since childhood she had grown tall, her limbs retaining a good amount of muscle despite her longer frame, easily pushing her run forward. To compliment her athletic activities, she wore close fitting garments, keeping her shins and arms free to the Tendlepogian air, just like her mother would. The similarities didn’t stop there; as age took her, her face took on the sharp angled jaw of Hermes, as well as her high cheekbones and flat cheeks -- she was the spitting image of her mother, save for her messy blue hair that whipped behind her.
”Pop!” A cloudling with dark grey fluff whipped by her.
“Oh, I see,” Altansarnai huffed between running breaths, she craned her neck, finally giving attention to the runner chasing her.
“Even Dumpling is faster than you!”
“Snapping thing can snapping fly!” Chagatai swore between gritted teeth, his larger build struggling to keep up, sinewy legs pushing harder. The man exhaled and gulped in a large breath.
”Zzt!” Dumpling protested.
“Shh!” Altansarnai suddenly stopped, a large herd of trees blocking her view forward. A few of the adult trees turned to her idly, but then went back to sipping at a rather large puddle. Chagatai huffed as he came jogging to her side, slapping his hand on her shoulder.
“Where is Temüjin?” He said between breaths.
Altansarnai patted his hand before shrugging it off, “I told him to meet me here.”
“The big puddle?” Chagatai cocked a brow, getting his breath back, “Specific.”
“He knows the spot,” Altansarnai rolled her eyes.
Chagatai crossed his arms and looked about, “So you saw a new herd roaming the area.”
“White coats,” Altansarnai scanned the area, “White as snow. I never saw a Tree-Eater like that before.” She turned to him with enthusiastic eyes, “Do you think they will listen to you?”
The man rubbed the back of his head and tried his best to look humble, “Well, I don’t see why not.”
“I only ask because nobody else seems to,” Altansarnai snuck in a smile.
“Certainly not you,” Chagatai shot his own smile back.
“Woah now, let’s tie it off here,” Altansarnai held up a hand, “If I’m going to be verbally kicking your ass, I would rather do it where others can share in the fun.”
“Respectable,” Chagatai nodded and looked forward, his eyes squinting against the midday heliopolis in search of the white Tree-Eaters. He made a face, “Now you are sure that it wasn’t just a really light coated one?”
“When I say it was as white as Mother Xiaoli the day you nearly shattered her favorite dishes on my birthday, then you better believe it,” Altansarnai gave a curt nod.
“So about as white as you the day you said you could handle that pack of devils just fine but then I ended up having to come save your proud ass?” Chagatai raised a brow.
“You’re about to see red in a minute,” Altansarnai shot him a look, “But yes.”
“Now when you say red, do you mean as red as-”
“Chaggie!” Altansarnai snapped through a smile and the man gave a self-satisfied laugh. Dumpling popped alongside him and Altansarnai gave the cloudling a faux-hurt look.
“You two are seriously going to cause a stampede with all that noise!” came a hushed whisper. Approaching them in a low squat came Temüjin along with his twin daughters Chinua and Borte. Trailing behind them again came Khublai, Temüjin’s eldest grandson. Chinua and Borte looked at Altansarnai with wide, awe-rich eyes and bowed. “G-good afternoon, auntie,” they greeted in unison, their matching purple noses wrinkling as the heliopolis light shone them in the eyes.
“Oh hi--” Altansarnai gave a high pitched greeting, leaning into Temüjin suddenly, whispering harshly, “--you brought your kids!?”
Temüjin shrugged. “As soon as I told them what I was doing, they insisted.” He leaned in a little closer. “You know how much Chin and Bort look up to you - please just give them this.”
“Right,” Altansarnai wrinkled her nose in the fashion she did whenever she felt guilty, or was lying -- badly. She stood up straight and smiled, Chagatai pinching the bridge of his nose.
“A few steps back,” He whispered behind her, Altansarnai adjusted her smile accordingly.
Chagatai shook his head and shimmied past Altansarnai and Temüjin, “Well, give your uncle a greeting too, yeah?” He poked Khublai’s cheek and then looked at the twin daughters of Temüjin.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
They both gave him a nod that offered little more than an acknowledgement of presence. Temüjin shook his head. “Hey, show my brother some respect, huh. Do it properly, you’re way past twenty, for K’nell’s sake…”
Chinua wrinkled her nose again, though not due to the light. Borte looked away. Then both went, “Hello, uncle Chagatai.”
“K’nell knows I’m glad Bataar isn’t here to see this,” Chagatai muttered loud enough for Altansarnai to crack a smile. He stroked the striped mountain tiger cloak hanging off his left shoulder and nodded, “Well let’s go see these white Tree-Eaters then, Altan?” He turned to his wife and she nodded, her smile fading.
“Right.”
“White tree-eaters?! Woah!” Khublai grinned from ear to ear and poked Chagatai eagerly for attention. “Those exist?!”
“I trust that they do,” Chagatai assured him, “But let’s find out.”
The young boy tugged even more ecstatically at the man’s cloak. “Hey! Will you wrestle a tree again and use it as bait for them to come out? Will you?”
Chagatai looked over at Altansarnai proudly and the woman rolled her eyes -- but was clearly amused. The man shook his head, “No I think we should just try and watch them for now, there is no telling what they are thinking, or what their temperament is.”
“Well then we shouldn’t burn too much of the shadow clock,” Altansarnai nodded, and turned about.
“Do you remember where they were?” Chagatai asked.
“Of course, I just have to get oriented,” She muttered as she continued to spin, the trees taking up most of the view.
“Mind if I try something?” Chagatai folded his hands behind his back.
“No need,” Altansarnai pointed past him so quick she nearly hit his chin, “Over there!”
All eyes immediately followed her finger, a fresh set of hoofprints having bent the grass and turned the dirt.
“It’s probably theirs,” She explained.
“A fantastic observation, auntie!” Chinua exclaimed while Borte rose two cheering arms into the air, a tiny Dumpling popping along. “When do we give chase?”
Temüjin crossed his arms over his chest. “We need any vines to capture them?”
Altansarnai held a smug look and Chagatai shook his head. The man then turned to the others, “No vines needed, we don’t know this herd -- I’d rather avoid upsetting them right away.”
“I hate to admit it,” Altansarnai piped up, “But Chaggie is right, if we scare them off now they may never come back.”
“Exactly,” Chagatai nodded, Dumpling suddenly zipping into his long alabaster hair, “We will take it at a jog, and slow down as we approach.”
“Good call,” Altansarnai winked, somewhere between genuine and sarcastic.
“Twice in a row,” Chagatai started to follow the tracks, “Frightening.”
Temüjin nodded. “Then you’ll do your thing, brother? The chat with the beasts?” Khublai stood with saucer-like eyes looking up at Chagatai. “Will you?” The boy echoed almost pleadingly.
"I hope to," Chagatai turned back and nodded, "See if we can't strike an arrangement."
The jog was long and quick paced, but with trained breaths the dreamers managed to follow the tracks in near silence. Only the huff of Khublai could be heard as they pushed further, avoiding large tree herds and one stormling swarm of cloudlings, probably enraged at a tree-eater or the like.
Finally on the red horizon a sheet of white formed, causing Altansarnai's eyes to widen with glee, as if validating that they are indeed real. She put a hand up and dropped to a crouching walk, the others quickly doing the same. Chagatai quickly approached her.
"White as you said…" his voice trailed in wonder.
"I told you," Altansarnai jokingly sneered, and Chagatai gave her a stiff push, nearly knocking her over. She shot him a look and he smiled, melting her own look into a grin.
“Woah!” went Khublai through heavy breaths, his energy somehow reigniting his vigour regardless of fatigue. Chinua and Borte clapped excitedly for Altansarnai and Temüjin surveyed the herd intently. He pulled at his alabaster facial hair and furrowed his brow. He turned to Chagatai and gave him an upwards nod. “You want to head in first, brother?”
"Probably the best idea," Chagatai nodded. He slapped a hand on Altansarnai's back as he passed and scurried through the taller sweetgrass, keeping his knees bent and ready.
It wasn't long before one of the massive white heads of the Tree-Eaters reared from a puddle of water and looked right at him. Slowly all the others also lifted their heads from their drink.
Chagatai looked behind him, his group well hidden in the sweetgrass a stone's throw away. There was a loud snort and Chagatai turned back to the beasts. His ears twitched with understanding.
"I mean no harm," Chagatai answered, "I have never met your herd before, I was just curious."
There was another snort, almost dismissive but often heard from the Tree-eaters. Having no natural predators made them easy to stand near, so long as they weren't surprised or spooked. Chagatai smiled and turned, waving his hand at his hidden comrades. The first to appear was Dumpling, the little grey cloud zipping out of Chagatai's hair. Second was Altansarnai, Temüjin by her side and the twins a little too close behind her with Khublai on the side.
"They are even more beautiful up close," Altansarnai smiled and put her hands on her hips. She took in a deep breath, "Gotta love that musky smell tree-eaters always bring."
Borte held her nose while nodding ecstatically, interrupted by Chinua slapping her hand away with a warning glare. Khublai gave his grandfather a smirk, one which Temüjin returned with a slightly bewildered smile. The little boy then snuck up to a tree-eater cow, likely being noticed all along by the surly creature. Temüjin quickly realised what the boy was up to, but it was much too late.
Khublai clenched and unclenched his hands before squeezing tightly the udders of the cow and pulling.
Immediately the tree eater was enraged, it's hind leg bucking out, smashing into Khublai's arm with a resounding crack and sending the boy toppling. The herd all moaned loudly and the enraged female suddenly charged, eyes blinded with rage. It snapped its mighty jaws threateningly, heading right for Chinua.
As the beast bore down on the woman it was suddenly knocked off course, the body of Chagatai slamming into the beasts side. Caught off guard, the top heavy creature was knocked off its feet, the muscled dreamer wrestling it all the way to the ground. The female roared but Chagatai's grip held like steel, the two bodies colliding into the ground with the dreamer on top. The tree-eater snorted and Chagatai snorted back. There was a surprised grunt and the rest of the herd snorted in response.
While Chagatai spoke with the entangled female, Altansarnai rushed passed the onlooking herd, her knees skidding across the sweetgrass as she came to a halt by Khublai's side. The little child howled and cried as Altansarnai prodded his arm. It was evidently broken. Temüjin and Borte came rushing over, Borte taking her son in her arms carefully. She gave him a stern, sobbing warning not to do that again before she rose and carried him away from the herd. Temüjin squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them free of exhaustion. “See, Chinua, this is why I told Borte not to bring him along…”
Chinua was still white as the wool of the tree-eaters, her mouth whispering the final verses of the psalms Bayarmaa had written for the gods some years ago. Temüjin groaned at his daughter and turned to Altansarnai with a grateful nod, then to Chagatai. “Is she listening?”
"She regrets not killing your grandson, but she's listening," Chagatai's eyes never left the female. Slowly the largest of the herd, an old grizzled male, came trotting up to the scene and stomped a wide hoof next to Chagatai. The dreamer turned his head and snorted defiantly at the beast. The beasts rose on its hind legs and pounded its front hooves into the ground below with a thwack.
Chagatai looked down at the female and then up at the male. Slowly he rose to his feet, the female scurrying back to its feet before trotting off no worse for wear. The male locked eyes with Chagatai, and the dreamer let out an aggressive snort, arms spread wide, palms open.
"Chagatai," Altansarnai used his full name, worry threaded her voice, "What on Galbar do you think you're doing."
"Challenged," Was all Chagatai managed, his focus completely on the bull.
"Yes you are if you think you're a match for a bull tree-eater," Altansarnai hissed, "Get out of it now."
But it was too late, the bull charged. It opened its massive maw so wide it could swallow clear to Chagatai's shoulders if it wished. The dreamer twisted his foot and as the bull came close, he juked to the side, his hands snapping out for a grapple. The weight of the bull yanked Chagatai to the ground, throwing him into a clumsy roll as the beast charged past.
Before the bull could loop back around, Chagatai was already back on his feet, a taunting snort exiting his nose. Chinua had run over to her sister to aid her nephews recovery - she also seemingly cared a little less for tree-eaters now. Temüjin looked to Altansarnai with a frustrated shrug. “He can’t bring that thing down alone. Should we distract it, maybe?”
Altansarnai’s eyes locked onto Temüjin’s and she barely whispered, “Forgive this.” Her eyes darted to Khublai, her yell shaking from her throat with anger, “What in snapping K’nell’s name where you snapping thinking?” The kid was nearly blown back from the rage of her voice, her eyes still a crystal calm.
Mid-charge the male’s head turned in surprise from the outburst, Chagatai taking advantage. The dreamer flanked to the side, his wife’s fury still being unleashed on the broken boy. Chagatai managed to curl his arm as he approached the now slowing down male, its attention steely on the enraged Altansarnai and screeching child. With a deft swoop, the muscled man swung himself onto the beasts high back, one arm wrapped around its neck.
The beast’s eyes widened as it began to buck. Chagatai squeezed, wrapping his other arm around the beasts neck as well. Hoarse bellows broke from the beasts lips, its herd watching anxiously as Chagatai held on with his life.
“Get ‘em!” Altansarnai yelled from the side, a tear ridden Khublai behind her with his mother and aunt.
Chagatai snorted into the beasts ear, his face a beat red and sweat dripping from his brow. The beast snorted back and then suddenly buckled it’s legs, dropping to the field below. Chagatai’s eyes widened, managing to maneuver himself safely off the beast as it quickly rolled in an attempt to crush him. Scrambling --covered in grass stains and sweat-- the dreamer suddenly got an idea and as the beast rose again to battle him, a gaping roar on its maw -- he shoved his entire arm in.
The males eyes widened with surprise as the dreamers hand snaked down its throat. The beast gagged and backed off, coughing out the fist of the man. A scratchy snort came from the surprised beast, the tree-eater threatening to hack up mucus.
“Well… that’s one way to do it,” Altansarnai gave a confused clap, but the beast and Chagatai remained focused, their eyes never breaking from each other. Chagatai snorted, the beast responded. Chagatai slowly circled the beast, a predators look in his eye. The male stood its ground, head cocked up and maw open wide.
Snort.
Chagatai snorted back, his bruised hands lowering. The beast began to lower its head as well. There was another snort. Temüjin blinked at the two of them and Altansarnai wrapped a loose arm around his shoulder.
“He’s got him now,” Her eyes were glued on the fight.
“Well, snap. Who’d’a known wrestling and snorting could make for conversation?” Temüjin mumbled with a scratch of his head.
“Oh please, that was my entire wedding,” Altansarnai laughed, the two fighters now standing aloof. Slowly Chagatai walked up to the beast and held out a loose fist, the beast met him the rest of the way and with a gentle headbutt, the two began to walk to the herd.
“If anyone… IF ANYONE,” Chagatai yelled, his voice audibly strained as he followed the male, “Pulls another godsdamned udder, I’m going to beat them with a tree.” The male bellowed in what could have been a laugh.
The two turned back to the group of dreamers, the herd now behind them, just as curious as the onlookers.
Borte and Chinua shrank a little and looked down at the tearful Khublai. “You hear that, Khubby? Granduncle says grabbing udders is bad. Will you do it again?”
“N-...” A sniff. “No,” the boy sobbed.
Temüjin shook his head in disbelief. “The fact that you need to be told that,” he muttered. “So, what happens now?” he asked Altansarnai.
The woman shook her head, “This is a first-””
“The dominant has invited me to the hunt in the evening,” Chagatai answered, “Impressed by my endurance -- I agreed. Our tribe and his herd will become friends, the old fashioned way.”
He stepped between Temüjin and Altansarnai, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Is the dominant still looking?”
“Nuh-” Altansarnai snuck a glance at the male, who was now tending to the young female that was tackled, “-no.”
Chagatai collapsed to the ground, “Phew.” The man breathed heavily, face down. His hands gripped the sweetgrass and a tiny Dumpling peeked out from his hair.
Temüjin slid over and pulled out his waterskin. “Here, you’ve deserved it, brother. How’re you doing?”
The man blindly waved his hand behind his back, eventually snagging the skin. He tipped it up and slide the nozzle under his face -- there was a loud guzzle and smack. He lifted the waterskin straight into the air. Altansarnai took it from him.
“Oh, he’ll be okay -- right Chaggie?”
His aloof hand formed a thumbs up and then fell back to the grass below. There was a low muffle and then Chagatai rolled to his side, “Altan… Altan!”
“What what!?” The woman furrowed her brow.
“We have that,” He rubbed his fingers together, “weird paste-”
“The numbing balms?” Altansarnai corrected.
“Yeah! --At home, right?”
“Mhm.”
“I’m going to need an entire Mother Xiaoli style bath of it, side order for little Khublai over there,” He craned his neck to look at his great nephew, “And a splint -- we need to go Wenbo’s.”
“I can set it,” Altansarnai looked over, “It’s a big one, should be easy.”
“Nah, nah. I brought him along - I should at least fix him up when he acts stupid,” Temüjin sighed and picked up a relatively straight stick off the carcass of a tree-eater’s prey. He unfurled his knuckle-bindings and squatted down by Khublai, splinting up the arm firmly and neatly. Borte and Chinua gave him sheepish smiles, only to receive a head shake in return.
“... I could have set it, dad,” Borte mumbled.
“I’m sure you could’ve, dear,” Temüjin said absent-mindedly and brushed Khublai’s white hair. The boy gave him an embarrassed look. “There - that’ll teach you to know when to prank and when not to prank.”
“Saved by a broken arm,” Chagatai said as he gingerly stepped over, as if nursing a bruised leg, “If not for that I’d be putting you to work for just as long as that bone’ll take to heal. He looked over at Chinua, “You alright?”
Chinua nodded slowly. “Y-yeah… Thanks, uncle… Sorry for not really helping.” Khublai sat between her and Borte with a quivering lip.
“What were you supposed to do?” Chagatai dismissed her apology, “It’s not every day you get charged by a tree-eater.”
“Nor is it every day you fight one,” Altansarnai pinched her chin, standing off to the side as her eyes sized up her husband, “I don’t know if I’m more impressed, or pissed that you did it.”
“As if you wouldn’t?” Chagatai defended and Altansarnai shrugged. The man shook his head, “Right, let’s head back and rest -- we have a long hunt later today…” His eyes fell on the twins, “All of us.” Then fell to Khublai, “Well most of us.”
Khublai sobbed again and Borte soothed him. Temüjin grinned. “Yeah! I’ll have Ansong whip up something while we wait - her stalkplum stew is the finest there is!”
“Well I don’t know if her’s is,” Altansarnai checked a fingernail.
“Oh it is,” Chagatai nodded vigorously and Altansarnai scowled, the two sharing a playful glance. The eldest dreamer rubbed a bruised arm, “Well no point putting it off then, let’s go.”
Borte scooped her son into her arms and the group walked off, stomachs growling and bodies aching.
Before the bull could loop back around, Chagatai was already back on his feet, a taunting snort exiting his nose. Chinua had run over to her sister to aid her nephews recovery - she also seemingly cared a little less for tree-eaters now. Temüjin looked to Altansarnai with a frustrated shrug. “He can’t bring that thing down alone. Should we distract it, maybe?”
“Of course!” Altansarnai lit up and then yelled, “Anyone know who Chad Kroger is?”
Chaggatai slapped his face, “Ah fuck, I think I do… fuck where ishe from. I can see his face.”
“Hold up I’ll google it,” The tree eater male said as he whipped out his LG k20, “Ah fuck.” He swiveled, “No bars. Anyone got any bars?!”
“Yeah hold up,” Temüjin pulled his tablet from his pack.
:Oi, this guy and his fancy ass tablet,” Chagatai complained.
Altansarnai is out running with Chagatai and their buddy cloudling named dumpling. They are in search of a white herd of tree eaters. Temüjin joins the gang with his twin daughters Borte and Chinua as well as Borte’s son, Khublai. Now Sauce wrote the rest, and so he did, because Gold can’t spell Temüjin’s name right. Borte and Chinua go all fangirl for Altansarnai almost to the point of not paying attention to anything else, so when they reach the herd, they don’t notice Khublai go over to LOL PRANKZ the herd. Khublai touches his first tit since he was 4 and this pisses off its owner, a huge cow. Luckily, Smackdown’s champion Chag “The One-Man Golden Horde” Atai is there to help and he brawls that cow into submission. While Khublai’s in the corner wailing over his broken arm and surrounded by his mom and aunt, The One-Man Golden Horde faces the local Raw champion, Tree “The Bull” Eater, the herd dominant. They duke it out until they get tired and the bull says Chag’s a cool dude and that they should hang out later. So then, while they wait for that, they go home to Temüjin and eat some stew.
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Scrawl Banditta
Alisdragon911
Double Capybara
