The Book of Man

=Aiskolas’s Jealousy=

During a festival some humans were building a large bonfire on top of a small hill at the base of which lay their camp. It burned so large that it outshone all the stars in the sky giving the night sky a very black and plain appearance. It was so bright that it caught the attention of Aiskolas who wasn’t impressed with the show of flame and grandeur. Rather he was insulted that a human would a tempt to shine a light brighter than himself. So he flew down to the human camp and with a great flap of his wings he summoned a great flame which devoured every tent, and any unfortunate soul in them. The resulting fire burned not just yellow, but blue and white as its flames cracked and roared into the night. Aiskolas’s fire burned so bright that the sunless night sky grew blue and full as if it was noon on a sunny day. The fire burned so hot that everything nearby was either burned or melted, the flesh of any nearby humans erupted into flame, the forests and grass were scorched, the ash itself burned into oblivion, even the rock and stone melted. As the fire raged on the ground collapsed and fell into itself leaving a massive crack in the land. To this show of flame and torment Kialge answered with thundering blows to punish Aiskolas for his shallow jealousy and murder.

=Samkendi=

Samkendi is an extremely powerful god. He often has the appearance of a human with dark hair wrapped in a loose black cloak. He rides around on a large black stag. His outward demeanour is playful and at times he can act as a trickster god. Despite his omnipotence, he is often found travelling performing small miracles, but otherwise remaining obscure. Samkendi was actually born as a human and gained godhood by a series of random events that were mostly beyond his control and intention. His story begins when he was a young human man named Saatimyra.

It was on a fine evening that the young man Saatimyra sat by the banks of the Natart, with a rod in his hand and a hook in the water, the dimming red sky shone comfort upon him. Saatimyra had not long arrived to the area in the same fashion as nomads tend to, with a large travelling family. The man’s own faction, named Cvbídyr, had arrived to Ėlunjedbsăn to fish while the season was in. While travelling to Ėlunjedbsăn the group travelled through a small forest. Saatimyra walked far ahead of the group as a scout, to warn of any predators. They had just travelled from the foots of the Piorrjo Mountains where humans are prey as well as predator, so the group was weary and paranoid. The sharp attention brought on by fear caused Saatimyra to notice not a predator, but a potential meal. Among the trees was a fresh deer carcass. When Saatimyra approached it he heard voices call out to him. The voices belonged to a hawk, an otter and a fox. The animals had been eyeing the carcass for some time but were unsure of how to divide it between them without coming into conflict. The hawk called out:

“I am Rȯsaliürta and I have not eaten in two days!”.

So Saatimyra carved a chunk of flesh from the carcass and tossed it to the hawk. Then the otter then called out:

“I am Ahtiwewoda and I have not eaten in four days!”.

So Saatimyra carved two chunks of flesh from the carcass. Then the fox called out:

“I am Jamsanera and I have not eaten in eight days!”.

When Saatimyra went to carve more chunks of meat from the carcass a thought suddenly came to him that he could take the carcass for him and his group to eat. So instead of feeding the fox his share he grabbed what meat was left and walked away.

The meat was stretched thin among the nomads as the group was quite large. They chatted loudly and over each other while they ate their evening meal. A few of the members were very chatty, much to the annoyance of Saatimyra. So when they reached their destination the next day he saught some alone time while he fished in the Natart. He managed to catch a large fish, but when he took out his knife to gut it, the blade could not pierce the skin. The fisherman was confused as the scales and flesh felt soft to his touch, yet they become as solid as permafrost when he struck it. The problem couldn’t be that his knife was blunt for his knife was sharp and sharper yet. Having obtained a meal which proved to be unobtainable frustrated Saatimyra greatly. As Saatimyra knelt by the river with the knife in his right hand, the fish in his left hand and an angry look on his face, he heard a faint flapping noise. He looked around him and into the sky but he could not see what it was. The flapping grew louder and closer until it proved itself to be an eagle. The eagle approached Saatimyra and offered him a deal. The bird said that he could open the fish in exchange for a portion of the meat. As the fish had a lot of meat to fill his belly and some to spare, Saatimyra thought that this was a fair deal and agreed. He laid the fish on the grass and stepped back as the eagle sunk its talons into the flesh with great ease. Once the fish’s belly was open, the eagle dove its beak into the wound and ripped out great chunks of esh, one after the other until the fish was all but gone. Saatimyra was furious as the eagle had robbed him of his dinner. He leaped forward and managed to grab hold of the bird’s leg, but when he did the eagle flapped with great power and grew enormously in size until each wing had a span greater than the length of two oxen lying tip to tail. The eagle flew into the sky but all the while Saatimyra never let go. In a moment before he knew it, Saatimyra was miles in the sky. The eagle said with a loud voice:

“I am Jamsanera, oh how cruel was the hunger that you inflicted upon me. Now as you made me meet hunger I will make you meet the ground”.

With that the eagle shook Saatimyra off of his leg, causing the man to fall from the great height to the ground below. His body met a boulder with a great thud and he was dead. Jamsanera then flew down and fed on his corpse.

Saatimyra then came to be in Jamavar, the scoundrel realm. As he had dishonoured Jamsanera by stealing his food rather than dividing it as he was asked, the judgement fate Dalartolk sent Saatimyra’s spirit to Jamavar as punishment. Saatimyra wandered around the realm in great boredom. The sky in this world was grey and dull, the clouds never shifted nor moved or showed any signs of breaking. No colours could be seen except for black and white and the shades in between. The air was still and windless, it was neither hot nor cold. The land was wide, open, barren and featureless. Not a single bump or the smallest of hills pierced the horizon. The land bombarded Saatimyra with a great boredom. The fisherman walked forward in a straight line for a great amount of time. How long he walked for could not be measured in days or nights for there was no setting of the sun or moon in the realm, the sky shone the same dull grey unendingly. After some time, Saatimyra grew thirsty. He came upon a slow running river whose grey water oozed lethargically along its course. The man knelt down by the river and cupped water into his hands. As soon as the water touched his gums they shriveled and gave him a thirst twice as painful. Saatimyra left the water and walked further on. After some time, Saatimyra grew hungry. He came upon a wilted and stunted tree standing alone in the expanse. Its leaves and branches stood perfectly still in the windless air. From the tree grew a single grey apple which had fermented as it hung from its stalk. The man’s hunger was so great that he felt compelled to eat it. His teeth dove into the soft and mushy flesh of the apple and as soon as he swallowed his hunger grew powerful and unbearable. His stomach roared so loud that his ears rang with pain. Saatimyra felt as if his stomach had become a void collapsing in on itself and it was excruciating. He collapsed on the ground and whimpered in pain.

When he could stand again, Saatimyra walked further on and on, and on and on. This realm was mind numbingly boring and empty. His mind craved substance, his eyes craved for a sight to see that wasn’t the flat horizon. Eventually this desire came true when he saw a band of people gathered together in the distance. When he was near the group he was welcomed by who appeared to be the leader. The leader had the body of a man covered in short bright brown fur, and the head of a sabre tooth tiger. The creature introduced himself as Harahanti, king of the sabre tooths. Harahanti was in Jamavar to recruit desperate dead souls to do a task for him. The reward for fulfilling this task was to be revived in another realm, an escape route out of Jamavar. Harahanti summoned a cloud on which he and the dead souls traveled upon. They flew in the sky until they found themselves in Heksamau, the ice realm. The cloud flew up to a great tower of ice and hovered outside. Harahanti gave Saatimyra a sword and told him to jump from the cloud and into the tower where he would await further instruction. Saatimyra stood at the edge of the cloud and looked down. They were so high up the the base of the tower was invisible, the sheer sight struck Saatimyra with fear, understandable given his previous experience with heights. When the other souls saw his reluctance they pressured him to jump. He gave in and he jamp. He crashed through the tower wall and landed in a great chamber. When he righted himself to his feet he noticed that he wasn’t alone. Also in the chamber were many hounds with bodies made of pure ice. As they charged towards him, more of his companions crashed into the chamber and there a battle between the two groups began. Swords were swung and claws of biting cold ice were bared. The dead souls won out against the ice hounds. Harahanti then entered the tower and commanded the group to follow him. Saatimyra and the others wandered through the winding blue corridors, fighting off the odd defender but sustaining no losses themselves. When they came to the top of the tower they found Heksutrri, the leader of the tower. By her side was a young girl named Denyr, who stood terrifed and frozen with fear. Saatimyra had no idea what the purpose of this raid was, but he was desperate to get back home. Harahanti took the two women prisoners and walked them down a long hall. Saatimyra walked by their sides to make sure that they wouldn’t escape. Heksutrri begged her captors to let them go, or at the very least to stop Harahanti from doing whatever it was that he had planned. At the end of the hall was a large and thick door. Harahanti ordered Heksutrri to open it and reveal what was inside. The leader of the ice tower begged him not to open the vault but Harahanti was determined. The sabre toothed leader ordered everyone to turn around and face away when the vault was open, so that not one person would lay eyes upon what was inside, except for himsef. With great reluctance, Heksutrri opened the vault. As the heavy doors laboured to open Harahanti’s attention was diverted when a surviving soldier rushed into the hall in one last stand the soldier never got far as he was cut down quickly. However in this short time, the vault had opened. While Harahanti was distracted by the soldier Saatimyra took a quick peek behind him and look directly into the vault. In an instant a wisp of thin black smoke travelled along Saatimyra’s gaze and entered his eyes. Harahanti ony noticed this too late, he was furious when he found that the prize of his raid had been stolen by Saatimyra. But before anything could be done, the girl Denyr let out a shriek so loud that it caused everyone around to collapse in pain. With agony Saatimyra clutched his ears and writhed around on the floor. He felt his bones vibrate so violently in his body that they started to snap. He tried to crawl out of the hall but before he could, a large door blocked the way out. Saatimyra and the other soldiers died in the hall

Saatimyra then came to be in Dwisgavar, the ocean realm. He found himself with no harm or wounds on his body. He was on a large wooden boat which was much larger than the small canoes he had been in. Also on the boat were other dead souls. This realm was not like Jamavar as no one was being trapped here. In place of grey skies and withered grass was a beaming wide blue sky and a wider and bluer sea. The rich colour alone made Saatimyra’s eyes burst with joy. As he stood on the boat he felt complete and whole in a way he had never felt before, something felt di erent. He met other people on the boat that expressed feeling the same, they too had died in another realm just to have woken up on this boat. They were all confused as to why they were there. After they had talked and shared ideas what the reason could be, a man stepped onto the boat, emerging from the sea. He had an excited voice and wide crazy eyes. He seemed overjoyed to see the people on his boat. With a voice full of joy he bellowed his name:

“I am Sekukunanc! Son of Yrotli!”

Without explaining much he steered the boat to a small island in the middle of the sea while singing giggly. This rock was a tiny slab of rock whose top only just broke the sea surface. Saatimyra and everyone else jamp down onto the rock and walked on it. Once the odd man stepped on the small island it burst with life. Lots of tiny creatures no larger than a human palm rose from within the rock. They were beings of light and shone bright colours of blue, red and yellow, they were the Ctürtėsa. The little creatures were delighted to see the people and they surrounded them, causing a great deal a joy and happiness for all on the island. After the flurry of colour, the Ctürtėsa sank back into the rock. When the noise had died down, the odd man then explained that everyone was there because at some point before their deaths they had absorbed wylkart, a rare form of pure energy made of pure chaos itself. He explained that a forest is made from trees, that a tree is made from a trunk and branches, that a branch is made from wood, that is made from strands of fibre, he said that everything is made of a group of small parts and that the small parts are themselves made of smaller parts until you reach minute pieces of existence which cannot be split further. He explained that between these smallest of parts was empty space where the existence of this universe ceases to be, and that in this space were the remnants of the chaotic void that existed before the time of Unwe. The energy which echoes within these tiniest of tiny spaces is considerable when collected, but weak and thin when spread it as is its natural form. When collected this energy condenses into a wispy black smoke known as wylkart. Since this energy has existed una ected by the event of creation, it is unbound to the laws and bindings of the realms. As such its potential it near limitless, and any being to absorb it obtains that power. The odd man of the boat explained that since each person had absorbed this substance in one way or another, that they were now gods, immortal gods whose abilities are hindered only by the extent of their imagination. The odd man then lead everyone back onto the boat, ready to travel out to the sea. When the last person had stepped on the boat the sea dropped violently. The surface decreased rapidly such that the previously tiny slab of rock was exposed to reveal a towering mountain. The boat fell as if in free-fall. When it caught up with the sea surface, it had landed in a di erent sea from the one it set sail in.

The boat now found itself in Maku, the earthly realm. The calm blue water lead it into an estuary and the tapering coast on either side was a pleasant sight to see. Saatimyra looked out the the distance and spotted an island in the estuary, it looked familiar to him. He looked closer and saw that the island was one that he knew well, it was Săănnüăskadaa. The young jumped with joy as he exclaimed that they had sailed into the Mnihidre Estuary and that he was near his homeland. When they landed, the new gods set out to test their new abilities. Saatimyra and a new goddess named Dėlmierada with golden hair travelled together into the nearby settlement Ghắnsolk. They performed seemingly impossible but entertaining tricks such as causing a pile of logs to sort itself back into a living tree...the locals were impressed, except for the man who cut the logs who just grumbled as his work was undone. As an apology, Saatimyra blessed the tree to always be in blossom with flowers of bright and beautiful colours. The fruit alone could feed the entire settlement for as soon as a fruit was plucked another appeared in its place immediately. The fruit would fulfil hunger and give great health to those who eat it. With that great apology the grumpy man was made happy. Saatimyra and Dėlmierada were invited into a home where they fixed all of its ailments and blessed it so that no storm or fire could ever bring damage to it. They left the house and there they saw the odd man. But this time he was different. Instead of his human looking form he now had a body made of water collected in the form of a man, rather than being happy and eccentric he now seemed angry and aggressive. It seemed that stepping on land away from the sea had an averse effect on him. He said that he wanted all the new gods to meet in one place. Saatimyra and Dėlmierada were confused at his sudden change of demeanour but they agreed to meet as he wanted. The odd man gathered the gods on a small hill whose bare top peaked above the forest below. With all the gods gathered in one place, the odd man expressed his anger and regret that such beings were able to come into existence and that no beings should hold the amount of power that they do. While he said this the odd man’s water form tripled in size, giving him the appearance of a giant. Since these new gods were themselves immortal, they couldn’t be killed by any ordinary means. So the odd man outstretched his arm before him and pinched the air and pulled his hand towards his body, this left a streak of light in the air where his hand was. He continued to pinch and pull as he weaved pure light into a blanket of bright and violent colours of green, red, blue, white, gold and every other colour to have existed. He had woven Ligee, a blanket that kills all life wrapped within it, not by suffocating it, but by removing the life from the history of existence which allows it to defeat even immortal beings. The odd man threw Ligee up into the air where it floated like a leaf in the wind, and he told it to catch the new gods and kill them all. Upon hearing this the gods ed in all directions. Unfortunately Ligee proved to be fast and nimble. Before long it had already wrapped and destroyed most of the gods. Dėlmierada thought not to run just to be outran so she laid on the groud and let the land swallow her. She was covered in every direction with solid rock, preventing the sheet from even getting near her. This enraged the odd man so he clawed at the ground in a fit of anger in an attempt to expose her. All the while, Saatimyra had hidden behind a hill by disguising himself as a blade of grass. He saw how the odd man was busy clawing away at the ground, and he noticed Ligee dart about in the sky about him, looking for its next victim. Saatimyra didn’t dare flee for fear of being spotted. So he pondered on his abilities and how he could use them. If his only limit is his imagination, then he was truly an omnipotent god, and if a being such as the odd man was able to create such a device as Ligee then surely he could claim it as his own. So Saatimyra focused on Ligee and gave it a new command. He told it to wrap itself around the odd man. Right away Ligee darted straight for the water giant who was distracted while a empting to dig up Dėlmierada. Before he knew it, Ligee had wrapped tightly around his watery form and removed it from the history of existence...but since the odd man had now never existed, then he never existed to create Ligee in the first place. So in an instant the colourful sheet of light ceased to be. Despite the undoing of the odd man’s existence, his havock remained in a paradoxical manner for the other gods which fell to Ligee remained dead and non-existent. The only gods to survive were Saatimyra and Dėlmierada. Together they left Ghănsolk and found the empty boat. They both boarded it and planned to set sail far away. They look back over the land before leaving and they saw the local people watch them in awe. Dėlmierada was worried that they may try to follow them across the sea. So when they set sail she cast a great storm to come over the sea, the water grew dark and grey and battered the shore violently, they skies grey dark and the mist obscured view of the boat. Saatimyra steered the boat with his index figer and thumb forming a little circle through which he looked. In this little circle he saw the sea for how it really was, calm and blue, for Dėlmierada had cast only an illusion.

The two gods sailed to the far north and dwelled there for a long time. As they were no longer human, they gave themselves new names for their new selves. Saatimyra became known as Samkendi. Dėlmierada become known as Vista. In the cold tundra they practised and mastered their divine abilities. After a time they both set out to travel the land in order to help those that they meet so that they could put their abilities to good use. Vista plucked a golden hair from her head and spun it into the form of a doe with golden hair and eyes and with wings of a dove on it’s back. Visti looked upon the doe and named her Ȯnnüyüsgjy. She climbed on its back and they flew into the sky and headed west and south. Samkendi plucked a black hair from his head and spun it into the form of a giant stag with jet back hair, eyes and and antlers. A thin layer a black smoke was forever smoldering within the stag’s thick fur. Samkendi looked upon the stag and named him Varjikwu. So named for despite its frightful appearance, Varjikwu was gentle and calm. Samkendi climbed onto its back and rode north and east to the shores of the Giegawowi Sea where he dwelled for a while. Much like Varjikwu, Samkendi could take the form of a frightful creature using his abilities but despite that he remained a benevolent god. He would often summon the wylkart smoke to surround him where he would use it to take demonic-like appearances. After dwelling by the Giegawowi, he travelled south along the coast and helped those that he came across. When he travelled to the far south he visited the Rakătosüla tree and from it he fashioned himself a staff named Soskularakăccuo. Its wood gleamed jet black and acted as a focal point for Samkendi’s energy.

=The Hand of Samkendi=

The Hand of Samkendi is one of the most powerful divine artefacts to still be in circulation among our people. The name of the device is not a flowery exaggeration, it is literally a hand that was once the flesh and bone of Samkendi, a divine god-like being who was born a human but achieved godhood in a very curious and random manner. He achieved his godhood by absorbing the energy contained in the tiny spaces between the tiny particles that make up the world. By drawing his power not from the world but rather from the gaps in it. He is in a way exempt and unhindered from the normal laws of reality and it is this which makes him inconceivably powerful. While he remains rather benevolent and subtle with his abilities, his potential brings great worry to the older gods as they draw their power from the universe itself, in a sense Samkendi is an anti-god.

In an attempt to get rid of a potential enemy the older gods sought to defeat him first. They couldn't outright confront Samkendi as he is well matched for them. Instead they thought to trick him. They got the help of a spirit named Kjarnast. Kjarnast is a being originating from Cwonarun who has the ability to turn any living thing into solid rock. Any touch from her can turn a man into a statue, preserving his terror flinching face for millennia until the wind and rain erodes him. She was perfect for the job, she didn't have to fight the anti-god, a slight touch was all she needed to render him solid.

The trap was set in place. The gods called upon Samkendi and offered that he join them for a feast. He accepted and he rode on his dark stag to meet them. As he galloped along the coast he heard a scream of a woman, when he looked for the source of the sound he saw a woman barely clinging on to the edge of a cliff. At once he ran up to her and held out his right hand for her to grab. Without wasting time the woman lunged at his hand and grabbed it tight. As soon as skin met skin, his hardened into rock. His fingers became tight and unbending, the grey stone started to creep up his arm where pale flesh used to be. Realising the deception, Samkendi quickly raised his free hand and fused his fingers together, lengthening them into one lang blade with which he sliced of his hard hand to prevent the stone spreading further. Now standing there with one hand severed, he looked at Kjarnast in rage and with one powerful kick he booted her over the cliff. As for his hand. The old one which was now stone fell to the ground where it stayed, it was no worry for Samkendi as he simply sprouted a new one on his arm with no cost to him. He got back on his stag and galloped away, to a place other than the feast.

The stone hand that remained by the cliff was eventually found by a shaman named Hermi. When he picked up the odd looking stone his head became filled with wonders and ideas. He saw the hand for the power it had, for while severed from Samkendi it still contained a small portion of his ability. So Hermi thought to take the power for himself. He walked back to his hut, he took out a hatchet and sliced off his own right hand. He then held the stubby wrist of the Hand of Samkendi against his own bleeding stump and then stone and flesh fused causing the stony hand to be part of the shaman himself. Hermi rejoiced in his new power. He wasn't a wicked or greedy man. He just gaped in awe as his hand shot forth a thunder in the air, as it crushed even the toughest metal in its palm, as it played the most wondrous songs on the harp, as it would summon the earth and rock to defy gravity, only listening to Hermi's will as he commanded it to shape itself as he saw fit. He was ecstatic. He was so excited that he walked for days to the nearest camp to show some acquaintances his new power. When he greeted his friend, Hermi shown his hand and held it before him with a great look of pride. In disbelief his friend reached out to feel it to see if it was real and not some trick, when he touched it he had a great big smile on his face that couldn't be wiped away. Ever. As soon as he touched the hand, the friend was petrified into a statue of the man he was. Hermi was shocked and devastated. For not only did the hand have some of Samkendi's power, it also had some of Kjarnast's too. Any living creature to touch that hand will be turned to stone. A rather cruel price for bearing the hand. After that Hermi made sure to always keep it gloved, baring it only when necessary. After Hermi's death, another shaman took the Hand of Samkendi from Hermi's corpse and took it for himself, cutting his own hand off and replacing it with the Hand of Samkendi. It was so that the long line of Astalkhjėrn was established. After the previous holder of the hand had died, a new shaman would bear it, taking on both the gift and the curse which it carries with it. It is customary for the new bearer to touch the corpse of his predecessor to turn it into a statue, which is then transported to Saasaapar where all of the statue corpses of the previous holders are laid to rest. Since in Sumric culture a corpse must be destroyed or damaged in order for the spirit to pass on, a small chip is usually taken out of the statue so that it isn't undamaged, allowing the spirit to pass on. The small chips taken are sometimes kept as relics by the family or friends of the deceased, known as *saapárylkanc, although the individual chip will often be known as the person's name plus the suffix -anc.

=Origin of the Tuurluosm=

Humans and giants are two kinds that rarely meet. However one interaction had a great effect upon the history of Malomanan. There was a large band of female giants, the group was so large that each of the giants was smaller for it, with each individual being slightly taller than a sėalaferok and no higher. A particularly harsh winter had driven the group quite far to the south, so far south that they ended reached lands that they had never been to before. When the winter calmed and passed the female giants were unable to find their way home and they became very lost. However the land where they were was fine for them to live in so they remained without issue, without issue until their mating season came. The female giants were far away from where any males were so they had no one to mate with which put them into a deep sadness. The gods looked upon them with pity and sought to end their sadness and loneliness in a rather unorthodox way. First the wilderness god Ansotroolke made it so that if any man in the area looked upon the open land where the giantesses dwelled, that he would be filled with the huskarotaatiinsotroolkebinaaski madness. Next the lust goddess Pöhi filled the insane men with a deep desire to mate with the giantesses, and she filled the giantesses with a deep desire to mate with the insane men. Even with how hideous the two species would normally find each other, under Pöhi’s eye they became lustful for each other. The result of this was that every giantess gave birth to a human-giant hybrid. Hundreds of hybrids came into existence, the resulting beings were more human-like than they were giant. They lacked the thick hair of giants but they had their thick brows, incredible strength and heights ranging from 7-8. The population of hybrids mostly stuck with themselves forming a new tribe. The generations afterwards only mated with hybrids or humans with no new giant blood entering the population. The resulting tribe were the Townalė. Their giant ancestry allows them to live further north then regular humans ever could. With the isolation their language became Old Tuura. If the original group of female giants had never been lost then the Tuuric peoples would never have existed.

=The First Shamans= On a day where they grey sky sprinkled the land with faint rain a man called Uankos sat by Lake Hllistyrḿ and played a sweet tune with his flute, the soft sounds intertwinning with the low hum of the wind and the patter of the rain. The sweet song danced gracefully in the ears of the lake goddess Türtast. She emerged from the lake, her form light but wet. Türtast waded through the water towards the shore to meet the creator of the song but what met Uankos was a stunned stupidity when he saw the beauty of Türtast. No longer could he weave music from his flute. "Please do not stop your music, keep playing!"

"If only I could but as I looked upon your beauty it filled me with wonder, driving put all knowledge and notion of the music I once could play. Please do not leave! Stay here with me and be my wife. I can no longer grace you with song but I will pay any other dowry!"

"It would not be an easy price. I am no human among you. I am Türtast goddess of the lakes, daughter of Gilgak god of the underground."

"I am just a human, but a human that is willing to pay even the highest of dowries to spend a single day with you."

"So it is. Here is my dowry: An obsidian spearhead crafted with such skill that it can cut a single hair that falls gently upon it, a blanket made from the hide of a white boar, a pot of honey from Manĕr herself and the ivory of a great narhwal."

"So it is."

With that Uankos set off to find all of the objects requested by Türtast.

=The Kingdom of Unsibbo=

On a pleasant spring day, the kind of day that makes one wonder at the bursting of life and fertility, a lone woman wandered among the semi-wild shrubbery gathering berries and bulbs for her perfumes and concoctions. The keeping of semi-wild shrubberies or ghaita is a practice found only among shamans, and this lone woman was an example of such. Her long, dark and unusually straight hair had earned her the name Gsthuatmi (“long flowing hair”). Once Gsthuatmi has picked her fill she returned to her hut. Instead of finding the peace that she was expecting, she was greeted with a worried looking man grasping his left forearm tight.

“Oh please help me shaman. I was nearby setting out some traps near a hare nest and in the corner of my eye I saw a lerlamaamu sitting on my arm having a snack on my blood! Oh help me shaman…what if it bit one of those hares first? what if I am doomed to become a hare?!”

Gsthuatmi took a deep breath and spoke the worried man:

“Calm yourself. It’s possible that you were the first victim, if so you have nothing to worry about. If not then your worries will be rendered true…stay at my hut for some time just in case the latter is true. Meanwhile I should have a look around this hare’s nest to see if the bug is still there, can you lead me to it?”

“Of course” the man replied, with a hint of embarrassment and humiliation in his voice, “my name is Inadinti.”

So the two set off to find where the man was bitten. At the nest they found no trace of the bug but they found something else. In the hare nest nearby they heard a wriggling and moaning that sounded little like a hare kitten. Gsthuatmi looked over the nest and found a human baby lying beside hare kittens.

“Well…good news Inadinti…you were the first victim of lerlamaamu so have no fear of becoming a hare…this hare kitten on the other hand was the second victim, hence why we see a human baby before us.”

The lerlamaamu bug, having feasted on Inadinti’s human blood had found the nearby hare kitten and had a second meal which caused the kitten to become a human. Gsthuatmi’s eyes were fixed on the infant. “The hare parents could never care for a human baby, I can’t just leave her to die here…” With a shaken heart the shaman picked up the baby and wrapped her in a small blanket. The two walked back to Gsthuatmi’s hut and wondered what to do with the child. Gsthuatmi was ready to raise the baby herself, but Inadinti insisted that he help as it was his human blood that triggered the transformation, in the end they decided to raise the child together and they named her Paldürė (“she who was a hare”).

Gsthuatmi and Inadinti came to love each other and eventually they got married and had two sons named Bnatismi and Dėlmierada. Bnatismi and Paldürė came to fall in love when they grew up and they married, having children of their own. They named their family Cpaldusucuo “those that were formally hares” in reference to their hare heritage. They even bore that name as a surname which deviated from the typical naming practices…but their exceptional heritage certainly deserved it. The half human/half hare children were hyper and excitable but not the sharpest in terms of wit. Dėlmierada himself took a wife, a woman named Sonnayrta. On the night of their wedding much wine was drunk and plenty of hearty songs were plucked on a harp. Dėlmierada had a lot to drink so he had to step outside to empty his bladder. When finished he went back inside and made love to Sonnayrta. Later that night when he had to pee again he noticed that a full moon was shining in the dark sky.

“Oh…shit.”

Upon seeing this Dėlmierada had realised his mistake, for if a man pees outside under a full moon and makes love with his wife afterwards, he impregnates her with an aiskolas spirit alongside the human baby. This spirit could turn out to be malevolent, cursing the family with boils and enemies, or benevolent, protecting the family. Luckily his mother Gsthuatmi was a shaman so she knew how to fully prepare for this. When the time came for Sonnayrta to give birth she had Dėlmierada light a fire in the hut and told him that no matter what happens, his only task is to keep the fire burning. When the newborn came into the world the aiskolas spirit was born along with him. But as the son was embraced by Sonnayrta, the aiskolas spirit was whisked into the fire. Gsthuatmi then boiled some soup on the fire which caused the aiskolas spirit to enter the soup. The soup was then fed to Sonnayrta and the aiskolas spirit was once again inside her. Soon after she fed the son and the aiskolas passed through her teet and into the baby, only then could the spirit set itself free. The whole birth had gone as well as the anyone could have hoped, the baby son was healthy and the spirit was handled properly such that it became a guardian spirit, and not only that, it was technically the half brother of the newborn, being the son of Sonnayrta and the moon.

The newborn was named Bsyltas, and some time afterwards he had a brother named Dahai. Bsyltas was a curious child who took great interest in old stories and legends. He loved to spend time with his shaman grandmother so he could learn about the spirits, he even wished that one day he could become a shaman. Gsthuatmi saw the potential to mould this curious and hungry mind into a wise shaman, so she began training him from a young age. However Bsyltas harboured as much cruelty inside him as he did curiosity. As a young boy he would dress himself in a wolf’s pelt and pounce upon his half-hare cousins who were greatly frightened due to retaining some of their mother’s prey instincts, but none of her intelligence. Bsyltas played cruel tricks on anyone he could except for his brother Dahai. Dahai was the bravest brother so he always wound up protecting Bsyltas. Bsyltas had always wished to defend himself but he was a sickly and weak child so he always stuck near to his stronger brother. The children of Dėlmierada were given totem animals by their grandmother Gsthuatmi. These totems were associations with an animal, depictions of which bring the totem bearer good luck. Bsyltas was given the totem of a serpent and Dahai was given the totem of a mammoth. As well as Dahai, Bsyltas cared about his tame crow which could often be found perched on his shoulder. The tame crow had actually contained the aiskolas spirit that was born with Bsyltas and so in a way the crow was also his half brother. The crow was incredibly intelligent, having memorised a number of words and phrases, including the names of the whole family.

After many years had passed the children had grown into adults. The cruel and curious Bsyltas had completed his training as a shaman and had gathered a great deal of knowledge about the world around him. Dahai grew into successful and well renowned hunter. Their half-hare cousins did as hares do and multiplied quite fiercely, establishing a small clan of hare-descended humans. Bsyltas was still a sickly figure despite his worth as a shaman. He had also been badly injured in a storm when the strong wind caused a tree to fall on his leg, breaking it. The strong wind also blew his tame crow away to a distant place, Bsyltas had become even crueler in his misery. “A cruel body begets a cruel mind” is what Sonnayrta said as if to dismiss her son’s behaviour. But his injuries and ailments didn’t get in the way of him taming a wild wolf to become his familiar as is shaman tradition. He had also raised a hawk to take hunting with him. To an unwitting observer it looked as if the shaman was doing well in spite of his bad luck but Bsyltas had a plan in mind. It was a well known fact that the gods have secret true names known only to themselves and a few secretive others. If one is able to learn a god’s true name then he can take control of the god himself. These names were secrets well kept so such events are incredibly rare…who could even dare such a task? One sickly shaman is who. On an unassuming day Bsyltas set out with his wolf and hawk on a journey. They first travelled to Phaibate “greatest otter den” to visit Tepapwe the king of the otters. Byltas approached Tepapwe with an offer, that if the otter king would come to his help when needed, then he would help defeat Tepapwe’s enemies. The otters were currently in a long war with the beavers so such an offer was tempting to Tepapwe, he agreed.

Bsyltas then continued on his journey. His next meeting was with the spirit Sülal the Historian, an ancient bird spirit who sees, hears and remembers everything that happens in Malomanan, truly one of the wisest beings. But first Bsyltas had to gather an item. He traveled with his two tame animals and Tepapwe to the island Siviorrco. There the shaman intended to catch a small white deer, but the beast was far too nimble and agile for him to chase on his lame leg so he sent his wolf after the deer. The wolf tackled the beast to the ground, and at that moment a crow flew out of the deer’s mouth and into the sky. Bsyltas’s hawk swiftly took to the sky and caught the corvid, and at that moment a salmon fell out of the crow’s beak and into the sea. Tepapwe dove into the water and in no time he caught the salmon, and at that moment an egg fell out of the salmon’s mouth. Tepapwe brought the egg to Bsyltas who only grinned with a disgusting smirk. Now that he had what he came for, the shaman travelled to find Sülal the Historian. It was a hard slog through dense forest but eventually Bsyltas found the spirit. He shouted out to Sülal and held his hand up high, clutching the egg in his hands. “Sülal the Historian! Look here! See me holding this egg which holds your soul, do as I say and I will give it to you, but disobey me and I will smash it against the ground!”

Sülal squawked in a mix of anger and fear. There is only one way to kill the ancient spirit and Bsyltas held it in his hand.

“Calm, Bsyltas. Tell me what you want and please do not crush that egg!”

The cruel shaman toyed with the egg in his fingers.

“Give me a name…a true name. How about you tell me the true name of Bodatri, goddess of bridges, crossings, conversion, change, risk…she took a risk placing such a wicked desire into a shaman like me…give me her true name!”

Sülal could only sigh with guilt and shame before he gave an answer.

“Vebčun…her true name is Vebčun.”

With that the shaman carefully placed the egg on the ground and left Sülal alone. Now that Bsyltas had the goddess Bodatri’s true name he had complete command over her. He gave out a growl which echoed among the trees.

“Vebcun! I command you to manifest before me!”

In an instant a bridge appeared out from the ground and Bodatri crossed over it to meet Bsyltas. The cruel shaman commanded the goddess to give up her divinity and pass it onto him. Bodatri had no choice to refuse and she did exactly that. Now she was left as a shadow of her former sacred self, a mere human while Bsyltas had attained godhood. The new god wasted no time in restoring his body so that it was healthy and hale. His second act was to fulfill his promise with Tepapwe to get rid of the beavers. He did this by changing every beaver around him into a fish, any beaver who was on dry land found itself a fish flopping around suffocating in the air. Any beaver which was in the water was quickly hunted and eaten by the otters.

Despite being able to gain godhood by learning Bodatri’s true name, Bsyltas had his own glaring weakness, that being that his own birth name was known to his whole family and those that knew his family. Any one of them could gain control of him simply by using his name. Such a weakness would not do for the new god. The only solution that he saw fit was to murder everyone that knew his name. Everyone. He killed his grandparents Gsthuatmi and Inadinti by changing the air in their lungs into water. He killed his parents Dėlmierada and Sonnayrta by changing the blood in their veins into honey. He killed his aunt and uncle Bnitasmi and Palduirė by changing the hairs on their heads into snakes which bit away at their faces. As for his half-hare cousins…Bsyltas blessed his hawk with the ability to kill any prey it seeks without fail. The hawk hunted every single member of the Cpaldusucuo clan, all except for one baby boy who only survived as the hawk itself fell prey to a giant eagle before it could kill him. The baby was too young to know Bsyltas’s name so the new god decided to let him live. Now all that was left was to kill his own dear brother Dahai. Despite the great cruelty that he was capable of, Bsyltas just couldn’t bring himself to kill Dahai. So he picked at his mind for another solution. He finally came to the conclusion that he could just wipe Dahai’s memory so that he couldn’t remember his name even if he wanted to. To visit Dahai, all Bsyltas had to do was to cause a bridge to appear before him. The bridge led to Dahai even though Dahai’s hut was miles away. Bsyltas walked up to the hut which had mammoths painted on the outside. He entered into a warm, cosy hut which was devoid of any furniture and decoration. All it contained was Dahai sitting depressed by a fire, and the smell of cooking deer meat. When Dahai saw who had entered he clutched his axe and stared with a rage at his brother.

“You are not welcome, you shit of a parasite, you shit scraped under a bull’s hoof, you vomit rejected by the beggar’s stomach, you horrid coward. You are not welcome as my brother. You are not welcome to live.”

With that Dahai lunged at Bsyltas yet despite having always been the older stronger brother he couldn’t win against a god. Bsyltas struck him aside and went to work erasing Dahai’s memory of his name.

“What is my name?” he shouted at the younger.

“You are Bsyltas the weak!”

“What is my name?”

“You are Bsyltas the regretted birth!”

“what is my name?”

“You are…you…I don’t know”

Dahai fell down, deflated and defeated. With that no man alive knew the name of Bsyltas. Now all he had to do was to chose a new name. He had given himself the name Vdăăvast (“I the clever one”) but he was known by others as Hăănart (“he who is weak”). This name served as a taunt to a murderous and cruel god.

Dahai the hunter had no memory of his brother’s name but he did remember how his whole family were slaughtered. He still had his anger and wish for revenge yet he had no idea how he could get it. Rather it came to him. While Dahai was stalking a deer he was visited by Sülal the Historian. This whole time the bird spirit had been aware of the events happening and he was sickened by it, and while he could not directly interfere, he could give some advice to Dahai. He told Dahai that there was a staff called Sėananandre (“godkiller”) that can kill any god so long as one is able to stab the god with it. Sülal also told him where to find it.

Now armed with this information, Dahai sought to find the staff and to kill Hăănart. The staff was said to lie in the belly of the Idăgüstüüty River. All he had to do was retrieve it. An easy enough task. The Idăgüstüüty River flowed parallel to two smaller rivers. When Dahai approached the three rivers he thought he would just swim over the first two and into the third. Not so. Hăănart had learned about his brother’s plan and just when Dahai approached the first river, Hăănart turned the river into a serpent. The water formed itself into a solid form which rose above the ground with a long and thin body. The serpent lunged at Dahai with chasmic jaws. With each lunge the hunter leapt aside and dodged it. When the serpent opened its jaws for one more strike Dahai did not move, instead he thrust his spear into the open mouth and through the serpent’s brain. After its death the serpent turned back into the river. Dahai swam across the river and as he approached the second river it too become a serpent, this time with two heads. Once again the hunter found himself dodging a monster as it tried to catch him in its jaws. With a sure aim he was able to throw his spear through the left ear of one head and through the right ear of the other head. After its death the serpent turned back into the river. Dahai swam across the river and as he approached the third river, the Idăgüstüüty River, it too became a serpent, this time with three heads. When the final serpent lunged at Dahai he did not dodge this time. Rather he leapt right into the mouth of the middle head and crawled down its gullet. He slid down into the stomach. He tried not to swallow the rancid stomach acid as he tried to catch a breath. He was lucky as Sülal was correct that the staff lay in the belly of the river although Dahai didn’t expect that phrase to be so literal. The hunter grasped the staff Sėananandre and in an instant the three headed serpent died and became the river once more. Dahai now had what he needed to kill his cruel brother.

While Hăănart was busy with his own cruelties and extortions, Dahai was busy assembling an army. This was no easy feat as the sumric people are incredibly dispersed over the land but Dahai was able to convince many men to fight with him to kill a cruel god. Dahai marched his army and told every man to shout insults at his brother. He knew that Hăănart was appear to stop this bruising of his ego and as if declared by the Fates themselves Hăănart did appear. He marched alone towards the great army with a smug look on his face, no doubt planning out how he would torture and terrorise the soldiers. He looked quite a bit less smug when he saw Dahai brandishing the staff Sėananandre but he declared that no weapon held by a man could kill him. He marched on smugly yet. Despite his disgusting and overzealous ego Hăănart was absolutely correct, no man would kill him. As the god was getting near to the army he saw a black blur in the corner of his eye. Hăănart turned to face the blur and there he saw a crow perched on low hanging branch. This crow looked oddly familiar however…indeed it was no other crow than the one Hăănart had lost in a storm so many years ago. The crow was so overjoyed to see his old master that he called out his name. “Bsyltas! Bsyltas!” The god froze with fear and dread as his name bounced in the ears of the whole army…Dahai at once cried out.

“Bsyltas! Your name is Bsyltas! You foul shit Bsyltas I command you!”

The once power hungry and evil god was now at Dahai’s mercy.

“I command you to take this staff and impale yourself on it. I command you to die!”

The helpless god felt his limbs move on their own accord, they would not listen to his own mind. His hands grasped the staff and held it high before plunging it into his liver. Bsyltas cowered over in agony and died after a few moments. “Well, that is that and so it was” sighed Dahai. A surge of relief washed over him. He had his revenge and the cruel god was dead. Yet the army was still behind him having never lifted a single club or sword.

Dahai the Hunter was held in high regard afterwards. Now in a time of peace he sought out the single surviving baby of his half-hare relatives, his great-nephew and raised him as his adoptive son who came to be called Hapjatarȯsalȯȯ. Dahai and the army settled around the three rivers and established the Kingdom of Unsibbo there. Dahai ruled as a beloved king with his staff Sėananandre and he settled by the Idăgüstüüty River. Hapjatarȯsalȯȯ came to settle along the second river as an adult where he continued the Cpaldusucuo clan. Dahai’s army settled by the third river. Soon after the Kingdom of Unsibbo was formed the former goddess Bodatri, the same one whose godhood was stolen by Bsyltas, married Dahai and bore him human children. The lineage founded by Dahai still rules in Unsibbo to this day.

As for that godhood. With Bsyltas dead that godhood had to be occupied by something. Bodatri had become content in her human life with her human family so the godhood was passed onto the being responsible for Bsyltas’s death, the crow who uttered his name. The aiskolas spirit in a crow’s body become the new god of bridges, conversion, change and risk. Upon obtaining this godhood the aiskolas obtained his true form, that of a golden bird. He then took on the name Arėumlonast. With Arėumlonast the godhood found a suitable and kind god.

=Wondžohtem=

There was a child with a curious mind, challenging son,

He bore a young name, he recently jolted from a cot,

Jobłka! (“little eyelash”), without vanity,

He wondered far from his mother, neither were still,

With quick short legs he entered the cave, despite being thirsty,

His mother chased him, scared again,

She worried about cave lions, such at risk,

The mother stumbled and couldn't walk in the cave, algae and shedded insect skins,

Jobłka laughed as he hopped from stone to stone, across a fit of laughter,

A humanlike bat, he hesitated to stop,

The mother watched, with hands over her face,

She gave him his good name, she repeated with fate,

Wondžohtem! (“careful cave”), it was emitted.

Wondžohtem and his family, with a base custom,

They travelled far, sleepy group,

Wondžohtem walked when they camped, with a strong war march,

The sea was his destination, very alone,

He desired limpets, the little antler-less stag splashed in the water,

Ansotroolke made a cruel wave, with one fist,

The sea’s hand grabbed Wondžohtem’s leg and pulled him below the surface, the current’s cobweb,

The water gave insult to his lungs, obvious sea foam,

The pain was ended, by a bat,

She grabbed his arm, good bat.

She saved him from the sea, he was wrapped in cloth,

He looked at her face, she swam for him,

He saw a young child, underground light,

The children asked each other for their names, languages uncovered,

“Wondžohtem!”, he emitted,

“Buidir!”, she was not frightened,

The boy and the girl became sweethearts, a short-lived season,

Because Wondžohtem’s family travelled again, a sharp claw for the relationship,

Later they forgot each other’s faces, only a mystery,

But their names were evident, trapped in a blanket.

When Wondžohtem grew into a man, increasingly he was advised to be silent,

Because he often spoke with praise about the Naddarussrriv, eternal hesitance,

He spoke out with kind words, replying while walking backwards,

But he always caught cruel words from his fellows, thirsty scoundrels,

His love for the bats, he loved the people,

The Sumnė were made suspicious, their existence doubted,

“Cgabjyrpat!”, the ones with inclinations,

Such were Wondžohtem’s family named, hate was directed towards them,

They were lead by Uotasicuo, a ready force,

Wondžohtem’s father, a big stirring stick,

Uotasicuo walked without any blemish, he destroyed distractions,

The wind was powerless against him, scared howling wind,

But the wind carried an arrow, it was elegant,

Shot by a rogue, it glimmered with trouble,

Rȯsalart! it flew,

Rȯsalart spewed the cruel beautiful arrow, like a mole falling from grace,

How the arrow stung Uotasicuo’s courage, a simple wound,

Uotasicuo! He screamed in pain,

Wondžohtem’s dead father, great moles wept,

There was only Wondžohtem left, a chilly wound,

He became a new leader, an old fate.

How the Cgabjyrpat grew, unlimited by a form,

Like a great flock in the sky, wings yelling,

A flock that hides the sun, a gloomy preparation,

One bird was Wondžohtem’s friend, he floated first,

Vjaronart! he who is forward,

The two men walked along a river, they drank water,

They discovered an old house, protected from history,

Their curiosity urged them to enter, they embarked silently,

They wondered at the stones, a craggy skeleton,

But a poor soul was among them, it converted into a skittish creature,

A blackbird with a broken wing, it unleashed a display of aggression,

It was stuck to the ground, it twitched as if in a noose,

Ready for any monster to eat, a malicious forest,

The men didn't know how to help the bird, they began to repeat,

They asked for help by a rowan tree, a common fashion,

A divine being appeared from behind the rowan tree, it bore godhood,

Žwóttulaawa! a scent of youth,

“Oh how my kindred is in pain, beaten and with no health”,

The Psainci held the blackbird with its wooden hands, it smiled with a virtuous soul,

Suddenly the blackbird glimmered with health, an intelligent sign,

The blackbird spoke to the men, it described and it promised,

“I thank you dearly, you good men of the river”.

Cgabjyrpat walked with weary feet, they nagged about weight,

They stopped by a forest, to nap under a blanket,

In hopes of rest and comfort, a tame response,

Wondžohtem’s stomach hoped to rest from hunger, he caught a jolt of hunger,

So he took his bow, he took it as a calm person,

And he took his arrows, he took them as a calm person,

And he walked into the forest, pulling a boat,

Among the trees he saw an interesting prey, he pondered for a while,

The creature was no deer or pig, it troubled the man,

The creature bore no succulent meat or quenching blood, a vast bush,

But the creature was a familiar rogue, despite aggressive growls

Rȯsalart! the father killer, a dangerous hill,

Wondžohtem thought to kill the monster, trees blowing in the wind and a feeling of being watched,

And to make his corpse a feast for worms and stagsthu, a new mask,

Wondžohtem drew his bow and he aimed, because his victim was there,

But his rage was too much, he tried to listen intently,

He could not calm down, he promised no serenity,

His anger pulled his arrow back too far, an unwise stupidity,

And the bow snapped loudly in two, it appeared crooked,

Rȯsalart was made aware of his predator, vulnerable creature,

He ran away like a faun from a sabre tooth tiger, he squirmed skittishly,

Rȯsalart was a coward, a sign of shame.

But he was not a dead coward, a sign of terror.

The coward ran away from his predator, unstill prey,

He found his people, he grabbed an easy lie,

And he wove a story about Wondžohtem, woven out of nothing,

Of how he hunted a strange and forbidden meat, with hard claws,

The meat of a sėalaferok! arrogant degenerate,

The white ancestral deer which no man must kill, a wild mockery,

And in this woven story, it sprouted wrong ideas,

Wondžohtem killed it in a brutish manner, brutish sheath,

The threads of this story were woven in the heads of Rȯsalart’s friends, they were bothered immensely,

And anger quickly followed, they did not control the response,

They marched towards Wondžohtem and his people, they held weapons,

To punish, to demolish,

All because it was lied about by a rogue, forever eroding,

Told by a coward, a clumsy event.

The angry people roared into the air as they marched, they jumped with rage,

And the roars echoed in the ears of the Cgabjyrpat, this harassed aggressively,

The women gathered their children, they didn't disperse they embarked,

The young boys took down the tents, they checked for gsugis’s,

The men drew their weapons, they brought upon nightmares,

Wondžohtem gave his commands, a vague tune,

The women and children fled to safety on sleighs, all distraught,

The men hid in ambush, they stopped to trick,

Ready to jump upon enemies, angry targets,

The howling enemy marched into the valley, huddled fools,

Their war cries echoed against the mountains, they held nooses,

The angry enemy followed the footprints of those who fled, it suggested a prize,

But they became the hunted in turn, a cloud of arrows condensed,

Wondžohtem and his men fired arrows and stones, they hit hard,

And charged with clubs and daggers, they stabbed and they struck,

The white snow became red slush, red clarity,

Throats were slit, for knives,

Limbs were hacked, a vulgar duel,

Heads were crushed, a devastating vulnerability,

Many men suffered wounds, an angry agony,

Except Rȯsalart, nowhere a champion,

He hid elsewhere, he avoided and isolated himself,

Except Wondžohtem, far reaching interaction,

He fought cleverly, stabbed enemies,

The battle was won, a sacred storm,

By Wondžohtem and friends, they caught fools,

That place was then called Larwondžohtema (Battle of Wondžohtem), an angry cave,

But some of the enemy crawled away, tight blood,

Keen to tell more about Wondžohtem and his fictional deeds, to curious friends.

As cries of victory filled the sky, around distant forests,

The women fled fast on their sleighs, they sought comfort,

Not knowing the fate of the battle, a numb situation,

The sun set and darkness filled the sky, a fraction of light,

Bidăre blew a cold breeze over the land, a damp noose,

The storm swept the snow and hid all footprints, a rare footprint,

Bidăre bled a frigid rain down to the land, grey blood,

The drops washed away all scents, grey claw,

The Cgabjyrpat tried to find their families but they could not follow, a hard knuckle,

The men yelled out but no one heard them, a dangerous forest,

The women listened for calls but no one called out, a bare noise,

Pėjürot did not appear that night, he shone dark,

So not even the soft blue rays gave any light, complete discomfort,

No one found anyone that night, angry storm,

All slept with hope that tomorrow would bring a reunion, an ominous depiction.

Asilñe rose the next day, she lived and she greeted,

But no one found anyone yet, no healthy sign,

Wondžohtem walked ahead of the men, he promised mightily,

He saw nothing but trees, no sweethearts,

The leader surely approached a rowan tree and begged for help, maybe he would use it,

“Help us O rowan tree, O helping path,

My people are surely divided, places invisible,

Send out a call with your roots and your leaves, hurry O you the divine one”,

A blackbird swooped with no moment wasted, it spiralled with a tune,

“Good man of the river! ill-fated soldier,

As you helped me, a rewarding fate,

I will help you, you will get comfort,

I have flown high and far, also in a cloud,

And I have spotted your women, only with hope,

Follow me and I shall lead you to them, an assistance in response”,

And so Blackbird soared in the sky, with a natural speed,

In a sure direction, over a fond overhanging bank,

Followed by Wondžohtem and others, to catch what is out of sight,

With no time wasted the men found the women, now balanced,

And the women found the men, only humanity,

The Cgabjyrpat was whole again, not lonely and alive,

Blackbird was thanked, an obvious twitch.

Wondžohtem had victory but he still had worry, he packed no gifts,

For more enemies would surely come, another fight,

More fights and more deaths, about adversity,

Cgabjyrpat had to flee to a safe place, they fidgeted nervously with depravity,

But words of the battle and Rȯsalart’s lies had travelled far, divided Sumnė,

There weren't many places to hide, consistant preparations,

All Sumnė had betrayed Wondžohtem, the little boy from the cave,

He could not hide among them, he looked and he pointed,

But the Naddarussrriv! the bats!

Sure they would be so kind and understanding, another good people,

So Cgabjyrpat travelled east to find the bat people, feet deviated,

Eventually they found the grey skinned people, now they approached,

“Help us! Hide us!”, numb and beaten,

The bat people were confused for they could not speak Old Sumrë well, a divine storm,

But one among them knew it well enough, first sweetheart,

A young woman, just pleasant,

She made the words clear between the people, weird content,

Wondžohtem was pleased, silly bliss,

“How did Bensihtȯ write your name?”, fast comfort,

“I am Buidir” bright existence,

“Surely not for I am Wondžohtem!” hoar frost from a cave,

The old sweethearts had met again, a story of rhythm,

Buidir was keen to help Wondžohtem and his people, a sign of balance,

So the bat people dressed the Sumnė in their clothes, they went easy,

And darkened their skin with ash, crazy rats,

They could not be distinguished from the Naddarussrriv, they anticipated change,

And so they were safe and hidden, a sign that they prepared.

Wondžohtem and Buidir married, he lived with the bat,

The first union of Sumna and Naddarussrriv, a great change,

They were unsure of who would join which tribe, they directed with harmony,

So it was decided that Cgabjyrpat and some of the Naddarussrriv would form their own people, easy support.

They ventured west along River Khyilduhte, they did not worry about monsters,

They rowed their boats until they reached Lake Pirrbiccda, a beautiful path,

There they left their boats and walked among the greatest peaks of our world, there they were nourished,

The bat people had seen hills in the east, humility of the east,

But they had never seen such colossal mountains, blind loyalty,

The bats wailed with wonder with words in their own language, gathered fame,

But in the Piorrjo mountains they found a familiar home, elegant wind,

An abundance of caves, brave and gentle,

The people declared the caves as their homes, they scuttled wisely,

And so they had become the Pėrrnė, a fate of sympathy.

Far beyond the safe and distant caves, pleasant people,

The coward Rȯsalart roamed free, he lived away from other Sumnė,

But his fate was not finished yet, he did not succeed easily,

In the caves the tales of the fled Cgabjyrpat and their hardships were told, challenging twitches,

The words echoed in Gilgaks ear, clear pain,

Our dear god of the underground, he was offended deeply,

He was angry for the people, he nourished the people with revenge,

Such so that he sent out Mnoja his daughter of the deer, an easy attempt,

Mnoja watched Rȯsalart with a murderous gaze, with deceiving stealth,

She summoned a great herd of deer, a bloodthirsty plan,

“Hurry and show the coward how heavy your steps are, over his dainty size!”

With that the grass wrapped around the cowards legs and trapped him to the ground, a wound with rope,

The deer charged at Rȯsalart and over Rȯsalart, slow witted Rȯsalart,

His face and his limbs were crushed under heavy hooves, in a boggy meadow,

The soil was saturated with his blood, a wet prize.

=Mauksakoht=

A once great nomad group had fallen into disarray. Many of the original members had scattered and become sparse, spreading afar along their own paths, while few remained. Some of the vagabonds banded together to form a new faction, that of The Ckusinė, a sacred bond of comradery. Among the Ckusinė were Sgamphrojamsa (“fire crocodile”) - so named for he spoke with a tongue lathered in fiery wit, Upwylast, Ousgjort (“he who is heat”), Thokuhok (“chilly knuckle”), Samkart (“he who is eccentricity”), Sistenab (“craggy thing”), Ejekotesart (“he who is with a pouch”), Sudart (“he who is a pig”), Cölpart (“he who is uncertain”), Jėigaswek (“interesting ermine”), Maukiall (“place for perfecting”) and Somgiserart (“he who is long haired”).

The Ckusinė were a secluded faction who were weary of outsiders joining their ranks. Despite this weariness Sgamphrojamsa had a desire to create a new faction. His memories fluttered with glimpses of what the old faction once was, a haven for lovers of language. So he set himself the task to form such a faction, starting anew. Among rolling hills that hugged the land and among the streams that trickled downhill in a smooth melodic dance, Sgamphrojamsa built a giant hut on Thaighvar from the trees that grew around him. Its walls were strong and steady, held fast in the ground. It was small, but it was cosy. Such was how Mauksakoht (“place of knowing”) had came to be.

On the 37th day of Jekdwonaes 2396AN, when Sgamphrojamsa had finished building Mauksakoht, with its roaring fireside and rustic appeal, he had one last task to do before Mauksakoht was complete. He needed others to fill its soft seats, to feel the warm haze of the fire, to taste a brew after a long day and to fill each other's ears with tales, ideas, knowledge and laughter. So Sgamphrojamsa returned to the Ckusinė and told them of his creation and he told of which stars to follow to reach Thaigvar by boat, he also hewed a path from the shore leading to Mauksakoht so that the Ckusinė may follow. On the first day Upwylast, Cölpart and Ousgjort walked along the path and joined Mauksakoht. On the second day Samkart and Thokuhok walked along the path. Ousgjort would often visit another faction from time to time where they bent their minds with substances, there he had a friend named Merañür (“craziness”). Ousgjort wished that Merañür would join the new faction so he travelled into the wild and led him to Mauksakoht on the fifth day. On the sixth day Jėigaswek walked along the path. While sitting snug in Mauksakoht, Upwylast’s mind wandered out into the wild where he remembered his interactions with Askadiart, an old friend. Upwylast was sad that Askadiart had no faction and he wished to have him join, so he took council with the others where they all agreed that Askadiart should join. So Sgamphrojamsa went out and introduced Askadiart to Mauksakoht on the 14th day. Some time later, Ousgjort and Upwylast had visited another faction which was devoted to the teaching and learning of the various related languages spoken in the nearby Sukumi island. In fact Ousgjort himself was a native speaker of one such language which he taught to Upwylast. While the two talked with the people there, a man who had the name Skaldart (“he who is new”) appeared and claimed that he knew Ousgjort and Upwylast, although neither could recognise the man. Skaldart said that long ago, during the time when Upwylast’s ancestor was worboatped dearly, when the old faction was in its prime, he and the two men made a joke together where they would repeat three sentences ad nausium. It was then that Upwylast recognised the man and called out a more familiar name in surprise: “Gabjort!” (“he who is smart”). Gabjort the long lost friend had wandered away from the old faction in ancient days never to return. It was by chance that he had visited the same faction at the same time when Ousgjort and Upwylast were visiting. Upwylast wasted no time with leading Gabjort to join Sgamphrojamsa’s faction, and so on the seventeenth day Gabjort joined Mauksakoht.

When each new member entered the faction he was presented with six rules that Sgamphrojamsa had deemed law. The law in Sgamphrojamsa’s own words are as follows:


 * 1) Be kind to each other.
 * 2) Do not fight or lust with each other.
 * 3) Do not claim another’s idea as one’s own.
 * 4) Do not judge another for reasons beyond his control.
 * 5) Have humility, do not boast or brag.
 * 6) Do not steal from each other.

With the laws laid down, each member was given his own role within the faction. As it's creator, Sgamphrojamsa took the title of Grandfather, which Thokuhok also had the privilege of gaining. To the rest of the Ckusinė he gave them the title of Vaipniha so that they may help him keep peace within the faction. Any future member would be given the title of Skaarlaawa. Such was how the three classes were made, the ruling Grandfathers, the watchful Vaipniha and the open class of Skaarlaawa(“Vaipni-like”). On the 13th of November Grandfather Sgamphrojamsa created a new class, that of the Rėsyrna. It is the Rėsyrna’s role to remember the history of Mauksakoht, to fill its air with stories and epics, to store all information relating to Mauksakoht in his mind. On the 22nd day of Lussnaes, Upwylast was granted this title and so he became Upwylast the Rėsyrna.