Bell Digest v940422p2

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Subject: RuneQuest Daily, Fri, 22 Apr 1994, part 2
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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.


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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?

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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.

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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.