In the past not far and recent, a patch of clear slipped through the fog. The shore relaxed playfully as the waters lapped its caresses, a soft song welcoming a young one's footsteps. It had been a long journey and an unguided one. Who knew what strangeness, what challenge and even what romantic wonder awaited him. With a small smile, he bid his once cherished boat farewell, gathered himself and his belongings, and set foot to a world he did not know.
Archaea is a world filled with regions, kingdoms, customs and different peoples with some travelers or far flung familys often encountered as oddities and even outsiders upon the journeys of those who'd travel.
Strange however, are those who though from away, have no notions of similarity at all.
Mayhap one such stranger is young Li'en, an unguided traveler from a homeland he finds no one knows about, and inspires wonder, disbelief and mayhap a little greed in his simple tales; many even believe his people dwell near the Mists, though he but thinks not.
A few interested or doubtful demand he point it on a map or demand he give a name, yet he simply knows it, as "Seren'ati" meaning "Home" and "Haven" to his kind. None of our maps are something he can recognize.
A telling portait then, of a place steeped in tranquility, love and meaningful play. In Lian's own words...
...A gentle smile plays over his lips, an exotic glow catches his eyes, and his voice warms in memory. All around him books are littered and even eyes deploring and hungry are yearning for their demand. They wish to know this place uncharted, where this young lad could have grown so different, so strange.
One younger lass, a coldly official takes measure of the lad; his blueblack woven hair, odd features, human yet a little too sculpted, his ears hinting at slight points and his eyes at odd angles. Perhaps there is something else in this world to know about after all.
I know where it is I come from, I know where I once walked and the cascades I once drank. I know what air it is I breathed, and the wise peace we protected, giving us immeasurable joy. I cannot find it on any of your maps, and I do not think it has its own name of which you may speak; only for me, it is "Seren'ati," home, haven, life.
It is a "realm" unlike most of sorts which these lands say is common. It is so strange to me to find a place so vast and so...relaxed of its wilds, that no one celebrates their ease.
I am from a land which is more like many realms, like little lands to folk with grand kingdoms as Sarus and Ashur, each hoping to connect as much as can be with the others.
It is a place of mists and valleys and hidden forests, caverns and sandy desserts with streams. It is a world locked in vast mountains, and surviving the wilds is key.
Each day the rocks and slopes change just a little; growing hard in some places and easy to fall in others. Just that would be enough.
There is reason to call each villiage "Seren'ati" for they are the great wondrous places that shine with their own character amid a twisting tangle of fiercely ferocious and feral wilds.
There are no prey creatures there; only those who hunt, and hunt each other. There are no creatures as the ones here to grow fat upon fields of harmless grass; not even birds outside our valley homes where plants at least grow gentle and kind. Even the trees themselves and little bloodwings-butterflys you call them-consume the living in their own ways.
It is how we have lived, since the dawn of our sages record-The Azura'li'el-when half my people met the keepers of the realm.
It is said that there had once been a group of great scholars, honored warriors, skilled farmers and tradespeople who were as fair in their arts and crafts as the natives of the land were strangely alien in their beauty. These people had been the survivors of another great land since turned to dust, and lost themselves to the great seas. Many had died in that attempt, and only so few, our records say not even half a hundred had made it and the lands had also slain a few.
Whatever their ordeal, it had changed them and with such age and peace in their hearts, the ones native to the land welcomed them to hearth and honored the pyre.
It quickly grew to the new community that they were falling in love with each other and of the land. For over a thousand of your years-as we have no similar time's reckoning- the two peoples married and rejoiced, until at last there was neither left, only the blending of their children, home and heritage.
It was during those early days that the land may have resembled yours. The woods were still wild as yours are now, but tame to be traveled. The places dwelled by the non-human half of our ancestors were treasures of great wonder and beauty.
There were caverns of almost living crystal which listened to the touch and feelings of those nearby and even grew to sound if there was enough pure water nearby.
There were little deserts ringed by shining black stone which grew or were worn smooth so the sun and heat reflected upon the windshorn sands.
There were valleys of a great many kinds; some of deep, lush forest green, and others full of color. Some sweltered full of heat, others full of streams.
It was a wondrous place which still now makes my heart ache to recall.
Yet even then the lands were strange as to make those pockets in the mountain safe and serene, leaving the rest of the mountains with constant cycles of death and life. As time grew on these places where my people dwelled only grew more vivid and vital, while the wilder slopes and land became more twisted and strange.
It is a wonder here to me, to be able to trust one's own rock or forest tree even in the untamed wilds here, to sit upon them, pick their fruit or even cut them down without a single harm to worry for.
You see, I meant by what I said when in the mountains of my home you'll find everything eats.
The soil is poor but the land thrives. When things die, often their children are instantly born. There are lush trees with poison vines and open sacks that savor. The smallest creatures are a match for larger prey who in turn hunt them in kind. Even eggs will spring open to latch on with horrible teeth so the undeveloped young within can feed. It is only in this natural cycle that they all survive. My lands of home and haven seem to be isolated or hold it all at bay. It seems even the soil which grants us life brings death to the seeds which thrive on blood.
It is a maddening contrast in which my people thrive. Our numbers remain small; perhaps twenty-five to fifty per village; yet our culture lush and constant.
We raise our children in practices centuries old yet always evolving, growing and new. Everything has a practice that lends skill and knowledge, even our games. We often love to play.
I see such sad faces here in your lands, ones that do not know the joy of carrying water or gathering fresh food for the table. Even those who cook here seem glum.
In my land, everything is a game. There are no winners for we compete to tease each other and laugh and discover who we are, what more wonder it is that we can do. When it is our first crawl, we supply the child with many new things to explore and puzzle; mixing colors and names, sounds, opening li'nuen-puzzle boxes for very small children- and making things with our hands.
Seldom do children "walk," each step is a game to play. Some walk on high stones with one eye closed and some prefer the hopping game where you run on river stones places along our trails. Other children when a little older may weave and wind around, over and under each other as they go through the day.
As children get older we challenge them to other games where their great energy is grown into their hearts and their minds, and their spirits grown into them. We ask they ask they stand watch over the land to help tell the sun's rising and the fall of the stars; often upon one foot or upon two hands and their head; each a practiced stance to help them learn balance and free them from the feeling that their body is a prison; a body is freedom.
Everything we do is a game, a love, an activity which helps us learn and grow. It is also true that sometimes we simply resort to the pure essence of fun.
There are strange and celebrated times in the cycle of days when the plants, the trees, the deadly wilds grow soft and quiet and passage become easy. During these times all the villages from their respective Seren'ati come for great nights and events built purely for fun and camraderie; these are the affirmation of life celebrations.
My people love to travel, and in our mountain Seren'ati quite nearly every kind of land can be seen or found within one or two of your months of journey.
So from each place, various subtle cultures of my people come, each unique to their settlement. For one night and one day each, those who wish to celebrate will come and bring gifts and challenge each other to games that have no purpose save for fun and a little shameless fame. It is these times we can wrestle and set aside our daily ways which though cherished, compare very little to the wild abandon of these times. It is a reverent tradition in which we explore what it means to be simple, for it is in our daily way that we seek constant growth and fruition. It is this balance of harmony and honoring times of now and long past which helps fufill all of who we are.
It is in these celebrated times that sometimes people of different villages are wed, and the entire procession of people will jouney from Seren'ati to Seren'ati and rejoice in their diveristy, for so seldom do we during the other times travel so easily to see each other.
The dangerous wilds in which we dwell amid have given us necesity to remain truly great warriors and fighters. While we do train ourselves in mind, body, heart, spirit and interbeing (interconnection, awareness, etc.) to always learn of ourselves, it is our belief that when one has grown, assimilated all their parts and learned as much as they can, they must and are able to transcend their current state to another, to the next when the final time comes. Until that day we are uncertain as to what becomes of us should we die early, and seek to safeguard against it whenever possible.
It is in this that we do not have these...wars in which great many men die by another's hand. But I have no quarrel with your ways for if our land was nearly as open and overly populated, I would see why it is your neighbor who would make the greatest predator.
So it is that we are constantly skilled in stilling our hearts and ourselves as to appear dead at will for nothing in the forests beyond will consume unliving flesh or bone, save the ground itself. We train best of all in swift and agile weapons with reach as the spear, the longclaw (lightweight greatsword), the bow, throwing blades and know to use shortblades as well, though we always hope it never comes to them for many things carry poison so it is best to stay out of reach. An exception would be our windclaws. They're fairly common there at home but I've seen none here. It would make sense for when you live in a land where the ground does not harm you nor do attacks come from all around, yet I miss their familiar sight.
You would say they are a pair of your shorter longblades stuck onto the same handle, but on either side. We always wield them in pairs to protect ourselves and strike in at least two directions should the need arise.
We also attune into ourselves inside and out, and from there we listen to what sings. Here our most talented can conjure great fire and healing and even wondrous gifts. Even our smallest can call upon and bottle a little light within a crystal or a blade.
I miss this, and wonder a little why I was taken by the great sea to leave. But like many others written with our names in The Azura'li'el, my people's record, there is always the great quest to know what is beyond, and to travel beyond who we presently are and know.
It is perhaps here in these lands of Archaea that I now must find my way to call home.
A little older in look perhaps for the wear gleaming in his eyes, the young foreigner rests back, tired from the telling. His lips yet curve up slightly, his face a healthy glow. Perhaps for a moment, he had felt he had been home. He gathers his things and makes his leave, knowing beyond the door, only new things await.
Archaea is a world filled with regions, kingdoms, customs and different peoples with some travelers or far flung familys often encountered as oddities and even outsiders upon the journeys of those who'd travel.
Strange however, are those who though from away, have no notions of similarity at all.
Mayhap one such stranger is young Li'en, an unguided traveler from a homeland he finds no one knows about, and inspires wonder, disbelief and mayhap a little greed in his simple tales; many even believe his people dwell near the Mists, though he but thinks not.
A few interested or doubtful demand he point it on a map or demand he give a name, yet he simply knows it, as "Seren'ati" meaning "Home" and "Haven" to his kind. None of our maps are something he can recognize.
A telling portait then, of a place steeped in tranquility, love and meaningful play. In Lian's own words...
...A gentle smile plays over his lips, an exotic glow catches his eyes, and his voice warms in memory. All around him books are littered and even eyes deploring and hungry are yearning for their demand. They wish to know this place uncharted, where this young lad could have grown so different, so strange.
One younger lass, a coldly official takes measure of the lad; his blueblack woven hair, odd features, human yet a little too sculpted, his ears hinting at slight points and his eyes at odd angles. Perhaps there is something else in this world to know about after all.
I know where it is I come from, I know where I once walked and the cascades I once drank. I know what air it is I breathed, and the wise peace we protected, giving us immeasurable joy. I cannot find it on any of your maps, and I do not think it has its own name of which you may speak; only for me, it is "Seren'ati," home, haven, life.
It is a "realm" unlike most of sorts which these lands say is common. It is so strange to me to find a place so vast and so...relaxed of its wilds, that no one celebrates their ease.
I am from a land which is more like many realms, like little lands to folk with grand kingdoms as Sarus and Ashur, each hoping to connect as much as can be with the others.
It is a place of mists and valleys and hidden forests, caverns and sandy desserts with streams. It is a world locked in vast mountains, and surviving the wilds is key.
Each day the rocks and slopes change just a little; growing hard in some places and easy to fall in others. Just that would be enough.
There is reason to call each villiage "Seren'ati" for they are the great wondrous places that shine with their own character amid a twisting tangle of fiercely ferocious and feral wilds.
There are no prey creatures there; only those who hunt, and hunt each other. There are no creatures as the ones here to grow fat upon fields of harmless grass; not even birds outside our valley homes where plants at least grow gentle and kind. Even the trees themselves and little bloodwings-butterflys you call them-consume the living in their own ways.
It is how we have lived, since the dawn of our sages record-The Azura'li'el-when half my people met the keepers of the realm.
It is said that there had once been a group of great scholars, honored warriors, skilled farmers and tradespeople who were as fair in their arts and crafts as the natives of the land were strangely alien in their beauty. These people had been the survivors of another great land since turned to dust, and lost themselves to the great seas. Many had died in that attempt, and only so few, our records say not even half a hundred had made it and the lands had also slain a few.
Whatever their ordeal, it had changed them and with such age and peace in their hearts, the ones native to the land welcomed them to hearth and honored the pyre.
It quickly grew to the new community that they were falling in love with each other and of the land. For over a thousand of your years-as we have no similar time's reckoning- the two peoples married and rejoiced, until at last there was neither left, only the blending of their children, home and heritage.
It was during those early days that the land may have resembled yours. The woods were still wild as yours are now, but tame to be traveled. The places dwelled by the non-human half of our ancestors were treasures of great wonder and beauty.
There were caverns of almost living crystal which listened to the touch and feelings of those nearby and even grew to sound if there was enough pure water nearby.
There were little deserts ringed by shining black stone which grew or were worn smooth so the sun and heat reflected upon the windshorn sands.
There were valleys of a great many kinds; some of deep, lush forest green, and others full of color. Some sweltered full of heat, others full of streams.
It was a wondrous place which still now makes my heart ache to recall.
Yet even then the lands were strange as to make those pockets in the mountain safe and serene, leaving the rest of the mountains with constant cycles of death and life. As time grew on these places where my people dwelled only grew more vivid and vital, while the wilder slopes and land became more twisted and strange.
It is a wonder here to me, to be able to trust one's own rock or forest tree even in the untamed wilds here, to sit upon them, pick their fruit or even cut them down without a single harm to worry for.
You see, I meant by what I said when in the mountains of my home you'll find everything eats.
The soil is poor but the land thrives. When things die, often their children are instantly born. There are lush trees with poison vines and open sacks that savor. The smallest creatures are a match for larger prey who in turn hunt them in kind. Even eggs will spring open to latch on with horrible teeth so the undeveloped young within can feed. It is only in this natural cycle that they all survive. My lands of home and haven seem to be isolated or hold it all at bay. It seems even the soil which grants us life brings death to the seeds which thrive on blood.
It is a maddening contrast in which my people thrive. Our numbers remain small; perhaps twenty-five to fifty per village; yet our culture lush and constant.
We raise our children in practices centuries old yet always evolving, growing and new. Everything has a practice that lends skill and knowledge, even our games. We often love to play.
I see such sad faces here in your lands, ones that do not know the joy of carrying water or gathering fresh food for the table. Even those who cook here seem glum.
In my land, everything is a game. There are no winners for we compete to tease each other and laugh and discover who we are, what more wonder it is that we can do. When it is our first crawl, we supply the child with many new things to explore and puzzle; mixing colors and names, sounds, opening li'nuen-puzzle boxes for very small children- and making things with our hands.
Seldom do children "walk," each step is a game to play. Some walk on high stones with one eye closed and some prefer the hopping game where you run on river stones places along our trails. Other children when a little older may weave and wind around, over and under each other as they go through the day.
As children get older we challenge them to other games where their great energy is grown into their hearts and their minds, and their spirits grown into them. We ask they ask they stand watch over the land to help tell the sun's rising and the fall of the stars; often upon one foot or upon two hands and their head; each a practiced stance to help them learn balance and free them from the feeling that their body is a prison; a body is freedom.
Everything we do is a game, a love, an activity which helps us learn and grow. It is also true that sometimes we simply resort to the pure essence of fun.
There are strange and celebrated times in the cycle of days when the plants, the trees, the deadly wilds grow soft and quiet and passage become easy. During these times all the villages from their respective Seren'ati come for great nights and events built purely for fun and camraderie; these are the affirmation of life celebrations.
My people love to travel, and in our mountain Seren'ati quite nearly every kind of land can be seen or found within one or two of your months of journey.
So from each place, various subtle cultures of my people come, each unique to their settlement. For one night and one day each, those who wish to celebrate will come and bring gifts and challenge each other to games that have no purpose save for fun and a little shameless fame. It is these times we can wrestle and set aside our daily ways which though cherished, compare very little to the wild abandon of these times. It is a reverent tradition in which we explore what it means to be simple, for it is in our daily way that we seek constant growth and fruition. It is this balance of harmony and honoring times of now and long past which helps fufill all of who we are.
It is in these celebrated times that sometimes people of different villages are wed, and the entire procession of people will jouney from Seren'ati to Seren'ati and rejoice in their diveristy, for so seldom do we during the other times travel so easily to see each other.
The dangerous wilds in which we dwell amid have given us necesity to remain truly great warriors and fighters. While we do train ourselves in mind, body, heart, spirit and interbeing (interconnection, awareness, etc.) to always learn of ourselves, it is our belief that when one has grown, assimilated all their parts and learned as much as they can, they must and are able to transcend their current state to another, to the next when the final time comes. Until that day we are uncertain as to what becomes of us should we die early, and seek to safeguard against it whenever possible.
It is in this that we do not have these...wars in which great many men die by another's hand. But I have no quarrel with your ways for if our land was nearly as open and overly populated, I would see why it is your neighbor who would make the greatest predator.
So it is that we are constantly skilled in stilling our hearts and ourselves as to appear dead at will for nothing in the forests beyond will consume unliving flesh or bone, save the ground itself. We train best of all in swift and agile weapons with reach as the spear, the longclaw (lightweight greatsword), the bow, throwing blades and know to use shortblades as well, though we always hope it never comes to them for many things carry poison so it is best to stay out of reach. An exception would be our windclaws. They're fairly common there at home but I've seen none here. It would make sense for when you live in a land where the ground does not harm you nor do attacks come from all around, yet I miss their familiar sight.
You would say they are a pair of your shorter longblades stuck onto the same handle, but on either side. We always wield them in pairs to protect ourselves and strike in at least two directions should the need arise.
We also attune into ourselves inside and out, and from there we listen to what sings. Here our most talented can conjure great fire and healing and even wondrous gifts. Even our smallest can call upon and bottle a little light within a crystal or a blade.
I miss this, and wonder a little why I was taken by the great sea to leave. But like many others written with our names in The Azura'li'el, my people's record, there is always the great quest to know what is beyond, and to travel beyond who we presently are and know.
It is perhaps here in these lands of Archaea that I now must find my way to call home.
A little older in look perhaps for the wear gleaming in his eyes, the young foreigner rests back, tired from the telling. His lips yet curve up slightly, his face a healthy glow. Perhaps for a moment, he had felt he had been home. He gathers his things and makes his leave, knowing beyond the door, only new things await.
