I am Tuu (TEA-YOU-YOU) of the Eol. I have the Heart of Courage and am hunter for the tribe, trained to see, hear, smell, taste, feel and sense my prey, my game. Yet I long for and admire the magic of the hearthmothers. So, whenever I can, I train myself in the ceremonies that will one day, with luck, lead me to the wisdom of a Wisefolk, a shaman. So I lived until then came the conquerors, to whom even the hearthmothers do (albeit grudgingly) obeisance. From them I have learned a new lust. As much as I admire and honor the magic of the hearthmothers, how much more powerful still must be the magic of these strangers, this Lunar magic? And so I have resolved to leave my birthhearth to seek the ways of wisdom, to learn of this new magic that has come to my wit.
To ingratiate myself with the strangers, I have learned their New Pelorian, the language with which I now speak to you. They made it clear that hteir gratitude might be learned by joining their "military." And so, I have enlisted in the Lunar Army. And one day I bid farewell to hearth and the Delta and left for my training.
This military I think is sometimes very foolish. Powerful, but foolish nonetheless. Instead of using my native skills as a guide, tracker and picket, they have trained me to the line. Close order drill, maneuver, scutum, gladius, pilum and verutum have replaced my ax, my buckler and my sling. After our training, our indoctrination, was over, our regiment held a great contest of our skills. All performed to the best of their ability, except for some who have been in the Lunar military before. And soon we found out why these laggards sloughed off at the end! For the winner of the contest was honored at a great ceremony. During which, he was lifted on high and floated above the new regimental standard. The Lunar Wisefolk did great and deadly magic that day. For the winner was impaled upon that standard and one drop of his blood fell upon us all, transforming our greyed and tattered training smocks into the red tunic that I now wear by right of my training. They say that this skillful recruit is now our "esprit de corps" though I have not seen his spirit yet.
Leaving for duty, we have marched through Tarsh into Sartar to keep peace among the many tribes called "clans" that frivolously fight among themselves there. On our first patrol, we found a circle of large stones. In the midst was a flat table of a rock on which was a body. One of the other members of our "file" approached the body. He is an outsider like myself, not from the Lunar homelands but from its fringes. He touched the body and became possessed by a spirit. I tried my best ceremonies but could not drive the being out of him. So I shouldered him as a burden as we left the accursed place. Only to be attacked by members of the local tribe whose sacred site it was. We killed some but not all and prudently left as many more others arrived. And I wonder now on some nights, will this be the fate of the sacred sites and mysteries of the Eol as well?
We have also been attacked by beast in the wilds, man-beasts, the horned ones. One of which I counted coup upon and ceremoniously dispatched.
As a result of our patrol, we took a turn at watching "Pookey" the lobster, our regimental mascot. They say it is an honor. But I have seen others joke and deride us in secret. I think there is some dishonor to be had here.
We have most recently been sent out to a town. It has several wrring tribes there who connot live in peace without our intervention. There are many fights at the local "bar" that we must break up before the entire town is destroyed. I think we should let them do so if they are so unkind. But the officers say that protecting them is what "civilized" people do. One of the townspeople have thrown a stick at one of us, again the other outsider, with whom I fell some degree of kinship. Our orders say that attacking us is death. Instead of hunting down the offender as our regimental sergeant, Scivio Porcinius, has told us to do, the other outsider has duelled him to a first blood. This, to prove that we COULD kill him if we wanted to. But I think we run in fear of some of the other great men of the tribe who have accompanied this young one of theirs to this "duel".
I know not what the future may hold. I have learned much about the Lunars, some to admire, some to despise. But I have still not yet learned any of their magics. And I continue to practice the ceremonies of the hearthmothers and the Wisefolk, the magic of shaman.
Perhaps, if you like, I will tell you again more news from the front?
NOTE:
I thought that this might be a small way to repay anyone who might be able
to help me find background and info on the Eol and their culture. It would be
most appreciated in my work with this character. Anticipating your positive
response, I thank you beforehand.
Replies sought
----Steve.
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