From: RuneQuest-Request@Glorantha.Holland.Sun.COM (RQ Digest Maintainer) To: RuneQuest@Glorantha.Holland.Sun.COM (Daily automated RQ-Digest) Reply-To: RuneQuest@Glorantha.Holland.Sun.COM (RuneQuest Daily) Subject: RuneQuest Daily, Fri, 22 Apr 1994, part 2 Sender: Henk.Langeveld@Holland.Sun.COM Content-Return: Prohibited Precedence: junk --------------------- From: jacobus@sonata.cc.purdue.edu (Bryan J. Maloney) Subject: When Humakt Hid the Sword Message-ID: <9404211905.AA22872@sonata.cc.purdue.edu> Date: 21 Apr 94 09:05:43 GMT X-RQ-ID: 3748 "You have asked me why we teach you to hide your weapons, young blade-edge. Good. You should never just take something on the surface, for truth is often hidden as well and must be found by cutting through the concealment. I will tell you a story: We already know how Orlanth Idiotic coerced Trickster into stealing Death from the side of Humakt. Orlanth is a well-meaning enough god, but he has the self-control of a small child. As soon as the sun fell from the sky, Humakt knew what had happened. When Orlanth and Yelm contested, Humakt watched. When Orlanth crawled back to his stead each time, defeated and humiliated, Humakt watched. When Orlanth drank himself stupid with Urox every night afterwards, Humakt watched. So Humakt knew what had happened. It was then that he began the search for his true Sword, what the foolish call "Death". By the time he found it, it had been taken from Orlanth by Urox (after Orlanth had drunk himself stupid again) and Urox killed with it. Urox lost the sword when he was drunk and Zorak took it--the wrong way, of course. Zorak murdered plants (and nearly all life) with it. Finally, Humakt found Eurmal dancing around a heap of dead Gods. He took the Trickster by the throat and stared him in the face. He thrust his empty hand before the Trickster's face and scowled. Trickster's left hand dropped off from the glare and he giggled. Again, Humakt thrust his empty hand before Eurmal and scowled. Trickster's right hand dropped off and he giggled. Finally, Humakt had had enough. He picked Eurmal up and began to march to the gate to Hell. Then the Trickster no longer laughed, for he knew that Humakt would take him to Hell and leave him there--even if Humakt had to walk there himself. Trickster's hands leaped onto their wrists and Eurmal promised to show Humakt where the Sword had gone. When Humakt was brought to the Sword, Zorak was beating the Earth with the hilt. Humakt grabbed the hilt in mid-swing and wrest the weapon from Zorak's hands. He then threw Eurmal at Zorak and left. Alone, Humakt used the Sword to cut the ties he had with Orlanth Idiotic. Then he thought. It was obvious that this great Sword was not a safe thing. It had gotten out of his hands once before and everyone who got hold of it used it to wreak havoc. There was something about Death that inflamed lust in the hearts of those gods of low moral fiber. Humakt thought. He realized that, for there to be peace, Death must not be waved about, bright and beautiful for all to see, for this only served to provoke greed. So, Humakt learned to hide his Sword until it was needed. This, young edge, is why we learn to conceal our blades." The above manuscript was found in what was probably an encampment in the region of southern Sartar. Most scholars agree that it is a redaction of a far older myth and it was probably altered to agree with Theyalan sensibilities, especially in light of documents found in more northerly regions, which mention the great utility of concealing weapons, especially when participating in an ambush. The study of Humakt has proven to be one heavily fraught with contradiction and difficulty. It has been suggested that local variations in the name normally rendered "Humakt" in modern translation could actually have referred to different deities who had similar names. It has also been suggested that "Humakt" should not be considered so much a name, _strictu sensu_ as a title, but there is not much evidence for either of these possibilities. --------------------- From: jacobus@sonata.cc.purdue.edu (Bryan J. Maloney) Subject: Malkionism Message-ID: <9404211906.AA22882@sonata.cc.purdue.edu> Date: 21 Apr 94 09:06:38 GMT X-RQ-ID: 3749 "There is no God but the Invisible God, and Malkion is is prophet." Gee, that sounds more like a monotheistic religion OTHER than Christianity, doesn't it? --------------------- From: alex@dcs.gla.ac.uk Subject: Routine retaliatory measures. Message-ID: <9404211923.AA12773@keppel.dcs.gla.ac.uk> Date: 21 Apr 94 19:23:50 GMT X-RQ-ID: 3750 Jonas: > David: > >Since Trickster temples are almost always only shrines, all they get is the > >Trickster-specific spell of that shrine. And Worship Trickster. > "Worship Trickster"?!? What's that? Rhetorical question - I'd say the lack > of bowing and scraping for some divine bully ("Dear Orlanth: oooohhh, you > are so big...") is a major draw for the trickster cults. Trickster cults are clearly theistic, so would certainly follow the usual pattern of Worship being available (and necessary) at all temples. And likely something like the usual numbers of worshippers at each shrine to make it "work". I'd prefer to call it `Worship', however. > Vadd} "mot"? Jag trodde vi var |verrens? Uh-oh, he's started talking in close-curly-braces and pipes... ;-) Is gu the University of Go:teborg? > [...] my completely irrational and prejudiced attitude towards Pamaltela. > I have no justification for this view, except that any place where > tricksters get such a raw deal is too grim for my tastes. You won't much like Dara Happa, then, or indeed anyplace much outside of the Barbarian Belt. > [Me:] > >Actually, Murderer would fit perfectly well with Eurmal's relationship with > >Death. > Only if you find me a quote where Eurmal actually _uses_ Death I can't, but it would fit in with existing myth. If he ever overcame his lethargy for long enough. > >in any given locality, any given > >shrine will (almost) certainly be thought of as being dedicated to a > >_particular_ Trickster deity, not as being a Generic Trickster Shrine, > Absolutely. Have I said something to contradict this? Well, you started disagreeing with me about _something_ or other, I'm fumbling around for what it might have been. ;-/ Martin: > Effete? EFFETE?!? Bite your tongue, Scotty. It's us > Americans who talk the language in its most manliest form. What, you mean it isn't true you all stopped saying the Good Olde- Fashioned anglo-saxon "arse" because your Mommies didn't like it? Must just be an obsession with beasts of burden, then. > ;-) (Actually, I think we pronounce "Asshole" the same, since > Brits (like New Englanders) don't seem to be able to pronounce > the letter r properly.) Au contraire. That's them Sassenachs, especially their especially labially-reflexively-weak southern branch. But in their case, it's more like "awsehole". We Scots always pronounce our r's. Frequently several times for luck. Admi'edly, the same can't always be said about cer'ain other le'ers. Persons saying "asshole" in this sceptred isle are subject to detention without trial under the Prevention of Americanism Act, while it's investigated whether they patronise Macdonalds, watch NFL games, or make loud whooping noises while in t.v. studio audiences. [*] > Alex says: > > Naturally Aldryami don't play _competitive_ sports, as > >such... I'd imagine they indulged in co-operative or ritual > >activities, which look like (rather incomprehsible) sports when > >witnessed by outsiders. > Everything Aldryami do is religious in nature, or at least they > do not recognize the human distinction between the > mundane/profane and the divine. I don't believe this is true, at least in the sense that they appear to engage in both in behaviour which is `mundane' (has some prosaic purpose evident even to ignorant humans), and that which is `ritual' (doesn't). They may not see this as an interesting or significant distinction from their point of view, though. > The Goddess is imminent. Really? How soon? [*] ;-), btw. Alex. --------------------- From: "Alex Ferguson"@dcs.gla.ac.uk Subject: Kreshcetera. Message-ID: <9404211937.AA12853@keppel.dcs.gla.ac.uk> Date: 21 Apr 94 19:37:42 GMT X-RQ-ID: 3751 Sandy: > "No, you can't come along. We're doing a secret Kresh routine." This doubtless explains why the Doraddi are forming a Kingdom specifically to fight these chaps: Sheer infuriation at the annoyingly smart-arsed beggers. ;-) > Vithela is where the spirits wait. When the Emperor Passes > On, the spirits go to the next stage of existence. This place is > unattainable and unvisitable by normal Gloranthan abilities, > including Heroquesting. What, not even a Become-the-Emperor-and-Die HQ? > The Vormain folks know about Vithela, but I don't know if > they think they go there. They may well hedge their bets between indiginous and imported beliefs, to be on the safe side, a la their analogue Japan. > The wagons are articulatable, > and can be connected together not only at front and rear, but at the > sides(!) as well, making a gigantic flexible "blanket" of [Kresh] wagons > climbing over the countryside. Roughly how many in total are we typing of? > Broos aren't primates, for one thing. I'm not sure `primate' is a useful concept in Glorantha, but note that most Broo have binocular vision and grasping forelimbs. (Indeed, most have an opposible thumb.) > And among humans, if not other primates, intra-group rape is not a > useful way to express dominance. > [Much flamage ensues] Another case of terminological obfuscation: Sandy was (as was moderately clear from context) using the word `dominance' in an animal behavioural sense; many of the followups seem to be taking it to mean dominance in some other, (even) less formal sense. There's no help for this sorta thing, alas, short of all agreeing to speak some more logical language, or annotating all our Big Words to indicate whether we're using them in their animal behavioural, everyday speech, consensually sadomasochistic, Arnold Brown-esque, or some other, sense. Alex(1). --------------------- From: alex@dcs.gla.ac.uk (Alex Ferguson) Subject: Aether and Sons, Inc. Message-ID: <9404212003.AA12904@keppel.dcs.gla.ac.uk> Date: 21 Apr 94 20:03:59 GMT X-RQ-ID: 3752 Joerg: > But all Storm deities are > subcults of Orlanth, or at least Umath, in a certain sense, as all Solar > cults are subcults of Aether, and his offspring and creations. Personally I think Aether smacks very suspiciously of being a construct to `explain' the relationship of Yelm and Lodril, which show every sign of having arisen separately. (This doesn't seem to be true of Dayzatar, which sounds a lot like a Yelmic mythic add-on. Perhaps why Sandy and I come to blows about his cult now and then.) Sandy: > I like gritty, hungry, violent trolls that make no apologies for the > fact that they ENJOY eating sentient life. I don't think this is the case for most trolls, though I'd grant it in the case of Zorak Zorani and some of the Fun Chaps hanging out in the Kingdom of Ignorance and Koromandol. But most, I reckon, as simply indifferent to the sentience of their food, and certainly have no compunctions about eating anything they're willing to kill. Trolls are likely to find humans willingness to slaughter sentients in droves, then fussily refuse to eat them as morally questionable. Now, if you'd said `ogres', you'd have had a fairly unassailable case. A fine distinction, but aren't they all? Alex. --------------------- From: john.hughes@anu.edu.au (John P Hughes) Subject: Bits O Boover Message-ID: <9404220134.AA24632@cscgpo.anu.edu.au> Date: 22 Apr 94 16:33:47 GMT X-RQ-ID: 3753 Fighting men of Sartar's stock would you have some Lunar Cock Perched upon Orlanthi Rock? Fly up and teach him manners! YELMALIO/ELMAL - CHAOS BOOTLICKING LUNAR PROPAGANDA Someone said... * ...the Vantaros and Tovtaros tribes of the * Alda-churi seem to have disposed of Orlanth as a positive figure in * their myths and have Yelmalio as their main male deity (according to my * impression from David Hall's article in the RQ-Con booklet). Over to Tarful Thunderstone, an old Tovtaros acquaintance from Ironspike... 'Just who is this Glowric Truthsayer anyway? And just which of those stickpicking Lunar sons of lame trolls and desperate broo do you think he works for? I'd like to show him the pointy end of my argument, I would. That one Divad Llah too. The shame. Lies! Proper geese, that's all it is. 'I've heard that story, and I paid the teller the going rate, I can tell you. Split open his skull to let the wind in I did. Well the bit about the unclean shepherd is true, but that's the only part. I know those Vantaros have an unnatural interest in sheep, and that the mutton carcases in the Alda Chur market sometimes have lovebites. But it gets cold and lonely in the hills, and they're good Orlanthi, for all that. 'Cept for all those Lunar traitors, that lot of politicing so and sos in Alda Chur, and them with too many relatives in Tarsh, and that murderous so-called Prince Harvar Ironfist and the new Temple to Yanafal kiss-my-arse Tarnils. Underneath it all, most of them are still Orlanthi, 'cept its illegal, so we keep it quiet. In our hearts, but we remember everytime we breathe. The Righteous Wind - that bit's true too - but it was about Lunars, nothing to do with the sun. Least not that I heard... 'Those Vantaros, they're good Orlanthi, just like us! Especially the dead ones. In their hearts and in their breath. 'Cept for the ones that aren't. I never met me a Yelmalio, 'cept them that hide in the city 'neath the Goddess' skirts. Good Elmal stock we are. 'Uleria's beard, have you ever BEEN to Far Point!? Lucky to have any sun at all, up here, what with Skyfall Lake and all the rain and such. Never see the sun at all 'less there's a storm in the sky as well. Its a cold sun alright, but its an Orlanthi one. Inora's one cold bitch -I guess that bit's right as well. But I never knew she was married. As for the bit about Orlanthi forcing themselves on their daughters... well I never. I knew a thane in Alone who had a thing going with his son-in-law once, but he was Tarshite, and besides, that's nothing to do with it...' UNUSUAL BRITONIC FORMS OF MASSED CHORAL ENTERTAINMENT Yes MOB, I believe it is historical - I certainly didn't make it up! Surprisingly though, it doesn't crop up in too many sources (wonder why?). I came across it in a novel by the historian (and Merlin freak) Nikolai Tolstoy. The novel - The Coming Of the King - is so full of historical and mythological tidbits and Welsh and Latin whatevers that it's almost unreadable. Great source if you can stand all the mabbing and draco mortuus though. The myth and ethnography checked out well against my (dilettantish) knowledge, so I'm tempted to take the description at face value (Tolstoy has also published non-fiction mytho-historical works on the Britons). The err, entertainment is described on pp 99-100 of the Corgi paperback edition for those desperate enough to seek it out. FILK FILK FILK FILK... Rollin (rollin@eql12.caltech.edu) asked for the story behind the song... Cold Wind Over Sartar When Voria blooms in the darkness Her blossoms swing light from each tree When Dragon awakes and spreads fire Its then that our land will be free. I wander her hills and her valleys And still through my sorrow I see A land that has never known freedom And only her rivers run free. I drink to her sons and her daughters Those ones who would rather have died Than to live in the cold chains of bondage To bring back the rites we're denied. Where are you know that we need you, What thunders where storm used to be? All gone, like the rains of last season And only our rivers run free. How sweet is life but we're crying How mellow the mead but we're dry How fragrant the grape but its dying How gentle the wind but its ice. What good is a youth when its aging What joy is an eye that can't see When there's sorrow in stormwind and shower And still only our rivers run free. Silverquill, Grey Sage of the Tower by the Pond at Aldachur, reports that this ballad gained sudden popularity among Orlanthi loyalists after it was sung before the Pavis Governor at a Praxian Harvest Ritual. Her Ally, a particularly vexatious spirit named Aristophanes, claims that the song originated as an Esrolian dirge from the Lesser Darkness. It is a slow, maudlin ballad in a minor key, usually sung late at night when the fire is low and the mead tankards empty. It exhibits that typically Sartarite sentimentality so difficult for outsiders to comprehend. Silverquill marks it as especially significant because of it is a house ballad, a traditional form normally employed only by housemothers and teachers of the young - in effect a song for women who had not chosen the warrior's path. It stands in stark contrast to the long, winding boastful sagas more typical of the fighting castes. For Orlanthi warriors to accept such a song as their own marked a seachange in their view of the struggle and the role of the Sartarite resistance. In effect, the warriors simultaneously debased themselves and uplifted the common people by their acceptance of the ballad. They identified their resistance with the land itself, and saw Sartar as belonging to all the people rather than just the warriors and thanes. The warriors of Orlanth present themselves as mothers of the old/new kingdom yet unborn. It represents a universalisation of the struggle, a call for all to share in Sartar's debasement and freedom. The popularity of the song had profound effects on the hero plane, where it laid ritual foundations for many of the female and child heroquesters who lived and died for Sartar during the Hero Wars. Helena Truespear, who successfully heroquested to retrieve a part of Sheng Seleris from the keeping of Gorgorma, reported her first liberation after hearing the song sung from the depths of an Ironspike jail compound. AKA... Only Our Rivers Composed by Michael MacConnell (that's Mickie to you, lad). Recorded by Planxty and featured on the album 'Ar^is!' (that's supposed to be a fodder (^) over the 'i', folks). ()1984, Polydor 815 229-1). Also covered by Christy Moore and many other earnest young minstrels with acoustic guitars. When apples still grow in November When blossoms still grow from each tree When leaves are still green in December Its then that our land will be free. I wander her hills and her valleys And still through my sorrow I see A land that has never known freedom And only her rivers run free. I drink to the death of her manhood Those men who would rather have died Than to live in the cold chains of bondage To bring back the rites we're denied. Where are you know that we need you, What burns where the flame used to be? Have you gone like the snows of last winter And will only our rivers run free. How sweet is life but we're crying How mellow the wine but we're dry How fragrant the rose but its dying How gentle the wind but its ice. What good is a youth when its aging What joy is an eye that can't see When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers And still only our rivers run free.