Here's an example of a Heortling initiation from our Seattle Farmer's Campaign (written by Neil Robinson). In 1608, the Ormarthing clan of the Colymar performed the initiation rites for the clan boys who were between about 15 and 20 years old. They were taught various sacred stories and prepared for their Crossing to the Otherside. This is part of the initiation of Korlmhy Orlgardsson - a boy of important ancestry destined to be a hero in the coming Hero Wars. As you can see, he went all the way into the void but 'failed' a lot of his stages.
Enjoy!
Jeff
Korlmhy met with a group of people covered in Orlmarthing tattoos and wearing traditional clothing. They blocked his path and said he had no place with them. They tried to force him to leave the path and go back. With his excellent memory, Korlmhy recited his ancestry and was able to trace his linage back to Vingkot and Orlanth through Korol Vingkotsson. He was able to read their tattoos and saw these people were the people he listed; his ancestors.
The ancestors then welcomed him. They asked him to carry on their traditions so they would be remembered and to protect their people.
The ancestors directed him forward and Korlmhy continued walking. After a time he came to some prosperous steads with happy children, fat cattle, and playful alynxes. It was the clan his ancestors wanted him to protect.
>From his vantage point on the ridge Korlmhy could see the glinting of metal and gold up to the north. A long column of spear-wielding soldiers were marching down to the steads. There were many score of them, and their stepping made a rumbling across the ground, tromp tromp tromp as they came closer. They carried large shields that gleamed the sun and wore bright plumed helms. They all looked the same: tall and fair. Horns blew in the steads and a few men ran out with spears, axes, and swords. Even someone as young as Korlmhy could see that the stead did not have enough warriors to protect it. The men would fight valiantly, but the steads would be lost.
Korlmhy thought, "If I was like Orlanth I would summon winds and drive away these attackers." He looked about, and saw there were no clouds in the sky, nothing to help him there. Then he focused and looked inward, concentrating on bringing forth a wind as he felt Orlanth may have done it. With all his heart and all his breath he prayed – "Come great wind, come to my aid, come destroy the men of the spears and shields."
He seemed to pray for forever, and the soldiers marched closer and closer. Then Korlmhy could feel something brushing against his skin. He could feel his skin getting colder and could see frost on his breath. Then all of a sudden it was upon him, a cold and terrible storm swept over the ridge where he stood and buffeted him with ice and snow.
Even thought the howling he could hear the winds talk to him. "I am Valindkanth, and I am the Great Mountain Gale. I fear nothing and nothing can resist my winds. You have called me, my brother."
"Can you defeat the soldiers in the valley?" asked Korlmhy.
"With ease. Their order cannot match my destruction,' said the wind
and it rushed to do so. The unleashed storm tore down onto the
column just as it was about to march into to waiting defenders. Snow
and hail blistered the spear-wielders and lashed out at their open
skin. The bellowing roar deafened them and sleet covered their eyes.
To Korlmhy the storm's fury was a pleasure to behold. The column
wavered for a moment and then shattered. Only a few survivors
managed to escape back the way they came . Korlmhy exulted and
cheered. His wind has saved the clan.
His cheering was short lived. No sooner had the wind destroyed the shiny column than it began to swirl around and blow at the clan warriors. They scrambled for cover, but for some it was too late. The storm blew at the stead halls too, ripping off the roofs and blowing in the walls.
"Stop!" cried Korlmhy, "you are killing my people."
"I am Valindkanth and I am the Mountain Gale Storm. You can't tell
me what to do. No one can control my storm, no one."
"But you cannot just destroy everything. I summoned you to protect
my people, not to kill them. Do you know what you have done? You
have to control you winds."
"They are not important to me. You are not my brother if you seek to
fetter me so."
After another rush through the stead lands the storm rose up over the hills and back to its mountain home. The silence and stillness was deafening after Valindkanth's departure.
Korlmhy looked upon the once idyllic meadow. Tears coursed down his faces as he looked up the devastation. Almost as surely as the spear warriors would have done the storm had ravaged the steads. Some were in ruins. Crying children and wives ran out to see if their husbands still lived.
As Korlmhy watched from the hillside the people tended to the wounded and examined the dead. Those that would live were brought back into the halls that still stood. A few looked up at Korlmhy's direction but they didn't call to him.
Korlmhy just stood there and watched. He was unable to think clearly and felt completely empty inside.
As night started to fall a group of four figures left the hall and began walking up the hill to where Korlmhy stood. They were all women, and two needed canes to help them up the path. He watched them as they came right up to him.
The women were in dark clothing and wore items indicating their senior positions in the clan. They reminding Korlmhy of his grandmother.
"Did you summon that storm?" asked the eldest of them. Her piercing
eyes seemed to bore right into his soul.
"Yes," he said, "I called it to drive off the spearmen."
"But you let it kill our men and destroy our homes?" He voice rasped
like a whetstone against a blade. "How could you?"
Korlmhy's voice cracked with emotion as he replied. "I never meant for them to get hurt. I was trying to save you all. I told it to stop and didn't listen to me."
She pressed on. "Young one, you cannot control what you have. We cannot permit you wield such a power."
Korlmhy took a step back. "But I can help you. I can learn how to control it and I can use it to fight our foes. I can drive them off if they come back. You need me."
She took a more motherly tone and held out her hands. "Come with us. We know what's best for you. There are some things that are too dangerous to try to summon. There is another way than the storm. It will be safer. Relax child."
The "child" comment was the final straw. Korlmhy turned and fled.
Korlmhy ran as fast as he could. He ran to get away from the women. He ran to get away from the dead warriors. He ran to get away from the spear-wielding army. He ran to get away from Valindkanth. Mainly he ran to get away from himself.
It couldn't work, and it didn't.
The cries of the women that begged him to come back quickly faded from his ears. He scarcely noticed. He began passing into more and more unfamiliar terrain, but paid no attention.
Korlmhy slowed his pace to a job. Running away didn't seem to help him. He couldn't run from himself. He slowed himself to a walk and finally sat down. It all seemed hopeless and he had caused so much damage trying to help. Maybe he should have let the women take him in. Maybe he was too dangerous. Maybe his people were better off without him. The thoughts filled him with fear and dread.
He was staring down at the ground when a pair of bare feet came into view. Korlmhy looked up to see a man whose body was marked with Vingkot's own tattoos.
Korlmhy said, "Greeting to Second Son, from your brother."
The man looked down at him. "Greetings Second Son, "he said, "From your brother. You have traveled far to come to this point, I would be wrong to stop now."
"But everything I do is wrong,' replied Korlmhy. "I tried to help my
people and all I did was hurt them."
"Tell me, "says the barefoot man. He sat down beside Korlmhy.
Korlmhy began to replay what happened with the clan. The man listened patiently as he did. Korlmhy described how great he felt when he summoned the storm, and how it shattered when the storm attacked his people. But even in his great sadness he felt something else. He consoled himself with the knowledge that he did try. Without him they would have all died, or been enslaved by the spearcarrying army.
The tattooed man waited until the tale was completed before talking.
"Would your ancestor Korol give up?"
"No, " replied Korlmhy in a low voice.
"Would Vingkot?
"No." replied Korlmhy, this time at a normal speaking voice.
"And Orlanth?"
Korlmhy took exception to that. He raised his head proudly and stared the barefoot man straight in the eye. "Never! He would fight and would learn from his mistakes. He would come back better prepared and stronger and defeat his opponent. Any wrongs Orlanth had done he worked to right them."
The man smiled and climbed to his feet. "Exactly. Mistakes will happen. It is what you do after that which proves your worth." He clapped a hand on Korlmhy's shoulder. "Stand up, you have work to do."
Korlmhy stood up. He called out to the barrenness of the place. "I must be like them. I must act like Orlanth, like Vingkot, and like Korol. I cannot give up or retreat to boyish fear. I must face my foes wherever they may be. If they beat me I will regroup and come back stronger. If I need help I will find those that will help me and those that will teach me. This I swear upon Orlanth's name."
He took Korlymhy's oath seriously. "I will hold you to that oath Korlmhy. But remember that you do not do this fight alone. We are all in it together, and every one of us that fights strengthens all the others"
"It is time for you to move on. The world does not wait for you."
Korlmhy had found his resolve. He clasped arms with the man and bid him thanks. Picking a direction he began walking. Harmast's eyes followed him as he moved out of sight.
As Korlmhy continued to walk he started making out a red glow. He headed towards it. The glow came from a red orb in the sky: Shepelkirt the Poison Blood, Korlmhy could make out the face of a woman in the moon. She smiled at him. She radiated warmed and friendliness. Her voice was smooth and clear, with sensual undertones. It was a stark contrast to the old women of the clan.
"Come with me Korlmhy. It is time to make peace. I can show you a
way to harness your storm. Can't you see the hurt you cause your
people by trying to wield it when you don't know how?"
Carefully Korlmhy walked closer. He wondered how she knew his name and about his storm.
"Our people need harmony and I can bring that. I can show the other
side of the storm; healing it so that it doesn't need to destroy."
Korlmhy was unfazed. He challenged the moon.
"So how do you propose to bring peace? With armies and with death?
And what do I lose if you 'healed' the storm."
"Sometimes to bring peace you have to use force. Some only respect
such strength. And you don't lose any with healing, you gain your
seventh. You understand the part of you soul that is missing. You
accept the new part and you are stronger for it.
"Come Korlmhy, I offer you a chance to be a great hero. To lead your
people into a bold new direction. You will have what you desire, and
your name will be remembered forever."
To Korlmhy she seemed smug, like there was no way to refute her logic. His resolve hardened.
"So is this 'missing part' the part that summoned the bat that
killed my uncle? Is it the acceptance of chaos?"
"Chaos is in our world. It is a part of it. We have to face it and
accept it. That is the only way we can heal it. Is there really a
difference between your destructive storm and the bat?"
His face tightened and he clenched his fists.. "There is every difference. You cannot use chaos to heal. Chaos seeks the end of the world, the destruction of my people, of my gods, of everything. Orlanth doesn't accept chaos and neither will I. I have no wish to be remembered as Lokamyadon reborn. If I die and am forgotten it is better than joining with you"
The face in the moon flickered as it grew angry. Clouds of poison vented from its mouth, nose, eyes and ears. The pretty face warped into a hideous visage, with horns, tentacles, and spines. It was the devil himself, Wakboth.
His raucous voice boomed down at Korlmhy "If you will not be healed then you must be purged to cleanse the world."
This time Korlmhy did not run. He knew now that it was better to face chaos and die, than to run in fear of it forever. There are some things you have to fight for, especially if it meant losing.
The face moved forward, and from behind the darkness a massive bloated body emerged. Wakboth attacked Korlmhy with foul breath, evil magicks, and limbs of unimaginable shapes.
He tried to summon the winds like he did against the spear warriors. A faint whispering wind came back to him, "I will not fight for you this brother. You are not strong enough to make me face such a foe." He tried to fight with fist and foot and his head and his teeth. But Korlmhy was no warrior and his foe was the greatest in the world.
Horrible tentacles launched out of the devil and wrapped themselves around him. Ever fighting, ever resisting, Korlmhy was pulled into the maw of the devil and eaten.
Beyond the devil's maw was nothingness. The void stretched on in every direction and there was nothing. No light, no shape, no form. It was as if Korlmhy didn't exist, or ever exist. This is what must have happened to his uncle, Maniski.
In a strange way he felt at peace with himself. His fears of failure were gone. He mourned for the deaths he had caused but he didn't regret what had happened. He saw what he faced more clearly.
He could feel a faint calling, of his name being chanted in song. First it was one voice, then two, and then more. Korlmhy let himself get lifted out of the void and opened his eyes. He was back. His people needed him.
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