Neil Robinson here. Here's a little story I cobbled together with the help of Paul Heinz. It helps explain Ostrich riders, the Old 'Yelmalio' temple in Sun County. and the true reason why Sun Domers aren't allowed to wear women's diaphanous robes any more.
Have fun!
A Secret Praxian Tale - "Why Ostrich is Ashamed"
Many years ago I chanced upon a piece of Genert's body(1), and slew it. As a desert tracker for Issaries, it was my duty to return it to the sacred site in the wastes. It was an arduous test that few returned from. I had recruited a pair of high Llama rider guides, Tor Firelance and Fost Longtalker. Their price was steep, but without them I stood no chance.
We travelled quickly from waterhole to waterhole. The arrogant Praxians treated me like a piece of baggage, and their mounts treated me worse. I was mostly ignored as the two constantly bantered in quick Praxian, unaware that I knew the tongue. Looking back, I'm sure they would skin me alive if they realised what I had learned. Praxians are a proud people, and none prouder than the riders of the High Llamas.
Tor and Fost were uncle and nephew. Fost has just passed his adulthood rites and was being initiated into the man's secrets by his uncle. I was just a good way to pay for the trip - the metal I gave them was worth more than a pair of female bleeding llamas.
I won't go into what happened once I got to the sacred site, that will cost you more than a few drinks. On the return trip I was treated with a little more respect, even being allowed to share their fire. The Praxians view Genert with begrudging respect, cursing him for dying, but honouring his fight. As I a friend of Genert I had gained as much rank as a herd animal - high praise indeed.
One evening, as a Elmal began to drive his chariot into Hell, Fost returned from his scouting position. He had spotted a small herd of bird riders at the oasis where we were to spend the night. The uncle laughed and reached for his lance. "Come, let's have some fun". The two galloped away at breakneck speed, leaving me to prod on my mule as best I could. I arrived just in time to witness the end of a massacre. A number of strange birds lay fallen, their riders beside them. A disappearing cloud of dust attested to the survival of most of their number. The strangest sight was the appearance of some of the birds. With all the screaming and noise around, a full dozen of them were standing perfectly still with their heads buried in the sand. Every now and then one would quickly poke its head up, look around, and then just as quickly stick its head back in.
Tor and Fost spent the rest of the evening binding up their captives and hobbling the birds. I was allowed to try to heal the bird riders, but Tor made no effort. Tor boasted how his family would eat well, and Fost strutted after his first raid. Back home he'd still be a boy, but here he was already a man and a warrior.
Using my tradetalk I inquired about the birds, and feeling generous Tor told me about them and gifted me with one. I was a lucky charm, he said. The birds were ostriches, and the ostrich riders were one of the lesser tribes in Prax, barely fit for raiding. He said they worshipped the sun, and seemed to feel that explained everything. I had heard of the strange birds, but never before seen them outside of a menu.
Later that night, around a small bank fire, Tor and Fost gorged on fresh ostrich and fermented llama milk. Even I was full. The ostrich-riding prisoners huddled together for warmth, sharing the few scraps thrown to them. As always, it was Fost that broke the silence.
"Uncle", he asked, "why are the ostrich people so weak, and why do
their birds act so silly?"
"Well nephew, I will tell you the secret of the Ostrich Riders, but
you must swear to tell it only to our kin, and only once they become a
warrior. If those like the mule-lover knew of the story, it could
bring us great shame." Tor broke into a strange dialect that I had
trouble following. It was still Praxian, but like none I had ever
heard before. I kept quiet and curled up, pretending to sleep.
"It all started back when Genert was still alive; before the coming of
Chaos. This land was a paradise - so rich that no one ever starve.
People would say the right prayer and fruits would fall from branches.
Hunting only had to done for pleasure. This was before the blight,
and before Waha was forced to enact the Covenant. Some even say
before Eritha."
"Genert's garden was blessed with rich soil, fresh water, and lush
plants. Even the sun was different - not harsh and cruel, but soft
and gentle - just perfect for gardens. The lord of the sun was Yamsur
the Splendid who loved to dance and help things grow. He was a soft
god in a gentle land. And we followed him then."
"Is that why he died? He was easily killed by Chaos?"
"No Nephew, just listen and understand."
"Now Yamsur had a wonderful golden chariot, covered with jewels and
garlands of flowers. And just as glorious were the Yam-birds that
pulled it. Tall and noble were they, and honoured to carry their God.
Their gilded plumage was the most beautiful you would ever see, and at
the end of each feather was an eye, iridescent like Yamsur's eyes.
Behind the chariot as it travelled along sprouted the most marvellous
of flowers. His priests rode similar Yam-bird pulled chariots, and
their visits to every village were a blessing."
"Yamsur would ride his chariot though the garden helping plants grow.
His birds would sing their beautiful songs as a beacon to his coming.
When he descended to dance with the people, his diaphanous robes would
glisten in the gentle breezes. It was a utopia, and it was weak.
Chaos took it all."
"Chaos came to the land with a terrible fury - ravaging , burning, and
destroying all that they met. It was the darkest of days and the
longest of nights. Genert called forth his people and fellow gods to
face the horrible menace. They had to fight, or die. Genert's people
rallied around him. There was Great Stormbull; there were our
forefathers; there were the animals: rhino, bison, and of course
llama; and there was Yamsur the Splendid."
"Into battle they travelled. Genert, as king, was in the lead, Tada
beside him. Stormbull raged all around, and just behind Genert rode
Yamsur on his glorious chariot. Behind him trailed all his robed
priests. The Yam-birds cried out songs of battle and songs of victory
that rose our spirits and our hearts. We rode into our doom."
"At first the Chaos Horde was but a darkness in the distance, but as
we got closer things became worse and worse. There were the terrible
howls of pain and suffering, and smells that made you wish you could
rip off our noses. But the Yam-birds sang loudly, and the flowers
springing up behind the chariots helped to soothe the acid odours. So
was it that Genert's Army went to face the Horde of evil."
"Soon the face of Chaos was upon us, in all its horror. Creatures of
untold ugliness and evil lined up en mass and began their charge. With
a nod from Genert, Stormbull blew against the mass. The army of
Genert rushed to fight their greatest foes."
"And Yamsur was killed."
"No. Quiet Fost, I am getting to it."
"The armies collided, and the heavens shook. Gods fought demons on
what was the most pleasant of plains. It was the most evil of days,
and too much for Yamsur. The shrieks of battle tore at his tender
ear-drums, the acrid odours burned his sensitive nostrils, and the
blood and death overwhelmed his delicate sensibilities. With a
strength born of terror belying his gentle frame, Yamsur pulled at
reins of his the chariot, forcing it to turn away from the approaching
horrors. The noble Yam-birds pulled back trying to stay to face the
foe, but Yamsur forced them to the side."
"Obedient to their leader, the entire file of Yamsur's priests drove
the Yam-bird chariots out in a big arc away from the battle. The
brave Yam-birds fought to aid the embattled army, they pulled at their
reins again and again, until their feather's pulled out; they screamed
for aid until their voices became hoarse, but couldn't be heard for
the din of battle; they clawed at the earth until their claws became
blooded and raw. Still Yamsur drove them away and to the south."
"The battle raged through the night, and in the darkness Genert's army
began to fall. There was no Yamsur to light up the darkness, no
flowers sprung from golden chariots to dim the stench; and no glorious
songs from the Yam-birds to raise the army's spirits. Chaos began to
win. Noble Tada was crushed; Stormbull was driven away barely alive;
and in the end, even Genert fell."
"Before Chaos was done, all of Genert's fertile land was in ruin; the
plants burned and the land defiled. Even the Zola Fel barely
survived. Great Stormbull and the surviving allies broke the army and
the Devil was buried under the Block. But it was too late for
Genert's garden. The most perfect of lands became what it is now."
"But uncle, what happened to Yamsur."
"Yamsur never returned. Some say that he and his people hide out far
to the east. (2) The Yam-birds did return though, but not as they had
left. Gone was the gilded plumage, gone was the golden voice, and
gone too was the pride. The Yam-birds couldn't bear the shame of what
their master had done. Instead was an ugly, ungainly bird with a
tendency to hide it's head in the sand at any provocation: the
ostrich. And the only people that will live with the Yam-bird are the
remnants of Yamsur's priests - those who still serve him.(3)"
"Whew," said Tor, "hand me that skin. Talking in the old tongue is
sure hard. Now let me rest."
I settled down for the rest of the night wonder what the next piece of wisdom my journeys would unearth. This story would be worth a beer or two.
Notes:
(1) Hyenas are considered to be the remains of the slain Genert.
(2) Perhaps a reference to Teshnos.
(3) It is a common misconception that the Ostrich People worship
Yelmalio. The other Praxians prefer to continue this deception
to avoid talking about Yamsur.
Neil Robinson Glorantha-Con V net rep. July 25-27 1997
neilr_at_wolfenet.com Come visit our web site!
Seattle, WA USA http://www.pensee.com/dunham/glorantha/con5/gcon5.htm
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