(Some more rambling in this chapter, dealing with Karegu'Rhia - read it anyway - the next chapter has Gen in it. Apparently, I'm on a roll - DJ w00t)
CHAPTER 4 - PSALM 1
It was a ritual Karegu'Rhia had not partaken of since he was a hatchling. During the night of the double full moon (Draxis is approximatelly 3 times the
size of Earth and has 2 moons - Glas and Danio), twice a year, many Dran'an males have their futures told by a priestess assigned to him at birth. Even in
a culture dedicated to science and understanding one's surroundings, spirituality and mysticism had not been completely extinguished, it seemed.
Yet tonight, on the longest and coldest night of the year, Karegu extinguished the "voice of science" and, if only for a moment, embraced the fact
that there are things in this world that can never be measured by any scientific instrument or technology, yet exist nonetheless. In the dead of night, with
the blazing light of the double full moon overhead, Karegu stole out of his fortress using a path he found as a child that evaded all means of detection by the
formidable security system that surrounded the area of the stronghold. The only breach in his defenses.
Some nights he would stroll along this route and glance up at the sea of stars overhead, contemplating worlds he had not yet visited or conquered. Among those
worlds, was a small blue gem circling a yellow star - the inhabitants called it Sol, and their world "Earth". Thousands of ago, the last of the
previous royal bloodline, Mirr'Lin the Red, had made contact with the Earth natives and found that he felt sorry for these poor creatures, on the brink of
civilization, with no clue. He lived among them, teaching them the Dran'an tongue, the ways of agriculture, and the art of stonecrafting. Before departing
many years later, Mirr'Lin formed a pact with the tribe's leader, where they assumed each other's name in a sign of brotherhood, and where no
mention should be made of his presence among their kind or of his hand in crafting their culture in any stories they write. Upon returning home, Mirr'Lin
was killed by Karegu's ancestor, Draig the White, as it was his belief that these "humans," as they called themselves, were not worthy of
Dran'an wisdom - and those that lie with the nghi, should die like one. As was discovered later by an autonomous probe sent to planet Earth to covertly
gather genetic material, the pennant designating Mirr'Lin's band of humans proudly displays a crudely-drawn representation of a rampant, red,
Dran'an male...
Tonight, Karegu walked with urgency. He wasn't even sure if the old priestess was still alive, but something compelled him further down the path. After
walking through the deep forest for what seemed like miles, Karegu came to a break in the trees that opened to a vast meadow - where he first learned how to
fly. This place was beyond the prying eyes of his attendants, and not on an approved list for development. There wasn't another house for a full square
mile surrounding this glade - the closest house being that of his assigned priestess. Karegu flushed slightly when he found himself blanking on her name.
Surely, she knew his. He flexed his wings and took to the air, covering the mile between him and possible answers with extraordinary speed. In a little less
than a minute, he circled and flared his wings, landing silently at the doorstep of a simple, one-story wooden shack, its air-exchange system covered in moss
and vines, chugging silently. The structure, like most Dran'an architecture, was slightly sunken to stabilize temperatures, making it cool in the summer
and warm in the winter. Karegu paused only briefly before knocking on the door.
"Ahhh, my child. You are right on time." came a raspy voice from inside. "Enter - I have prepared us a drink." Karegu swallowed heavily and
felt the color drain under his scales. How did the wrinkled old hymlusgiad know it was him? He opened the door and walked down a small set of stairs into the
main chamber. The room was filled with thousands of books, stacked haphazardly on bookshelves, spilling onto the floor and across the several small reading
tables set up in the corners. The large central pipe for the air-exchange system was decorated with the same symbol over and over again - a tribal sun with
three rays etched by naked claws on the bare metal. It was the mark of the Great Harvest, which came to a head on the longest day of the year. The grey,
toothless old Dran'an crone that had called this place home since he had known her adjusted her long, white flowing robes and limped over to a simple
wood-fired stove where a kettle was boiling. She poured the contents into two glass mugs and handed one to Karegu.
"It's your favorite, remember? Afal blossoms and ground synamon. Do drink up, before it gets cold." The old crone's weathered snout wrinkled
in a smile as Karegu took a long draught from his mug, his eyes widening slightly as his childhood came rushing back in a sweet and spicy rush. He remembered
his last visit to the priestess, when he was but a child of only 15 years (Dran'an can live 150 years or more), and she was already very old. Now, he stood
before her, well into his 80th year, suddenly very aware of his impending mortality.
"Now that I have buttered you up, it's time to tear you down," she hissed softly. "Karegu, I am fully aware of your bloodline's betrayal
of our kind, and the curse that carries. Your parents were only acting out the motions of protecting their spiritual bounty when they brought you to me for
your first reading over 80 years ago. They wanted to hear something different than what I had to offer your father, when he was first brought to me, on this
very night, nearly 2 centuries ago." She took a sip of the contents of her mug and savored the taste before continuing. "That is not and apparently,
will not be the case. The stones have been cast, Karegu, and not in your favor. Your ancestor violated the Goddess' ancient law when he murdered
Mirr'Lin and assumed the throne in the name of enslaving our fellow thinking creatures." She took another drink and leveled her exceptionally bright
eyes at Karegu. "Your father had the opportunity to change his destiny several times along the way, and he did not. Instead, he taught his lineage of
bloodshed and war to you, filling your head with glorified stories about the old days when we were locked to our planet, and engaged in senseless bloodshed
among ourselves."
"He wanted me to be a great leader and follow in his footsteps," Karegu spoke softly, remembering that though he may be king and a Dran'an of
science, there are rules to follow - never piss off a Genau'Goeg priestess among the most important. The hellish-looking battle claws of her station hung
on the wall behind her, glowing with an unearthly blue light. He shuddered a little and continued. "My father never killed more than was necessary, and
kept in line with the basic tenants of your teachings - live at one with nature."
"Your father corrupted my words and twisted them to suit his own needs. As did your ancestors." She took in a deep, rattling breath as she finished
her drink and drew her robes in tightly around her, as if to ward off a chill. "The urge to conquer is strong within our species, Karegu'Rhia. It is
the edict of the gods that we cast off this primal urge and better ourselves, both spiritually and physically. Without the health of one, the other sickens and
dies over time." The crone started coughing violently, covering her toothless muzzle with the sleeve of her white robe. Karegu could see small flecks of
red spattered on the cloth when she withdrew it. After a moment, she continued, more quietly now.
"I have lived far beyond my years to serve one purpose, my child, fitted to me by the Goddess of the Harvest. I was assigned to the start of your horrible
lineage, to Draig the White himself, to be a moral compass for you and your ancestors, in the hopes that the events in your very near future would not come to
pass." She fell into another coughing fit, but managed to make her way over to the wall where her fighting claws hung. The old priestess took them down
and carried them over to Karegu, presenting them to him.
"The girl...one who carries the signs of our returning Goddess...these belong to her now," she hissed before slinking over to the doorway, blood
trickling from the side of her mouth.
"You she-bitch!" Karegu snarled. "You give me only criticism, bad omens, and bits of old metal? I came seeking answers!"
"Manners, child," the priestess snarled, disrobing and revealing her shredded and age-disfigured wings. She opened the door and staggered outside,
with Karegu following close behind. "The time for my final flight has arrived. And the answers you seek, you are not willing to hear." With a grimace
of pain, she spread open her wings, a sudden and strong wind gusting around them. "I leave you with this, my final vision. I foresee your Goddess
incarnate escaping you into a sea of black, only to return to you later, more powerful than you could ever imagine, to reap the dark crops your ancestors have
sewn." With that as her epitaph, the old priestess climbed painfully into the air on long-neglected wings and turned southward towards a vast mountain
range in the distance, crowned by a smoking, active volcano - the Mountain of Black Fire, where all old Dran'an make their final flight. Karegu watched the
volcano for some time, and was sure he could see the glint of her grey body in the moonlight, sillouhetted against the black of the sky and smoke, plummeting
to its final, firey resting place. For the first time in his life, Karegu'Rhia now wondered if, when his time came, he too would make that last flight...
CHAPTER 4 - PSALM 1
It was a ritual Karegu'Rhia had not partaken of since he was a hatchling. During the night of the double full moon (Draxis is approximatelly 3 times the
size of Earth and has 2 moons - Glas and Danio), twice a year, many Dran'an males have their futures told by a priestess assigned to him at birth. Even in
a culture dedicated to science and understanding one's surroundings, spirituality and mysticism had not been completely extinguished, it seemed.
Yet tonight, on the longest and coldest night of the year, Karegu extinguished the "voice of science" and, if only for a moment, embraced the fact
that there are things in this world that can never be measured by any scientific instrument or technology, yet exist nonetheless. In the dead of night, with
the blazing light of the double full moon overhead, Karegu stole out of his fortress using a path he found as a child that evaded all means of detection by the
formidable security system that surrounded the area of the stronghold. The only breach in his defenses.
Some nights he would stroll along this route and glance up at the sea of stars overhead, contemplating worlds he had not yet visited or conquered. Among those
worlds, was a small blue gem circling a yellow star - the inhabitants called it Sol, and their world "Earth". Thousands of ago, the last of the
previous royal bloodline, Mirr'Lin the Red, had made contact with the Earth natives and found that he felt sorry for these poor creatures, on the brink of
civilization, with no clue. He lived among them, teaching them the Dran'an tongue, the ways of agriculture, and the art of stonecrafting. Before departing
many years later, Mirr'Lin formed a pact with the tribe's leader, where they assumed each other's name in a sign of brotherhood, and where no
mention should be made of his presence among their kind or of his hand in crafting their culture in any stories they write. Upon returning home, Mirr'Lin
was killed by Karegu's ancestor, Draig the White, as it was his belief that these "humans," as they called themselves, were not worthy of
Dran'an wisdom - and those that lie with the nghi, should die like one. As was discovered later by an autonomous probe sent to planet Earth to covertly
gather genetic material, the pennant designating Mirr'Lin's band of humans proudly displays a crudely-drawn representation of a rampant, red,
Dran'an male...
Tonight, Karegu walked with urgency. He wasn't even sure if the old priestess was still alive, but something compelled him further down the path. After
walking through the deep forest for what seemed like miles, Karegu came to a break in the trees that opened to a vast meadow - where he first learned how to
fly. This place was beyond the prying eyes of his attendants, and not on an approved list for development. There wasn't another house for a full square
mile surrounding this glade - the closest house being that of his assigned priestess. Karegu flushed slightly when he found himself blanking on her name.
Surely, she knew his. He flexed his wings and took to the air, covering the mile between him and possible answers with extraordinary speed. In a little less
than a minute, he circled and flared his wings, landing silently at the doorstep of a simple, one-story wooden shack, its air-exchange system covered in moss
and vines, chugging silently. The structure, like most Dran'an architecture, was slightly sunken to stabilize temperatures, making it cool in the summer
and warm in the winter. Karegu paused only briefly before knocking on the door.
"Ahhh, my child. You are right on time." came a raspy voice from inside. "Enter - I have prepared us a drink." Karegu swallowed heavily and
felt the color drain under his scales. How did the wrinkled old hymlusgiad know it was him? He opened the door and walked down a small set of stairs into the
main chamber. The room was filled with thousands of books, stacked haphazardly on bookshelves, spilling onto the floor and across the several small reading
tables set up in the corners. The large central pipe for the air-exchange system was decorated with the same symbol over and over again - a tribal sun with
three rays etched by naked claws on the bare metal. It was the mark of the Great Harvest, which came to a head on the longest day of the year. The grey,
toothless old Dran'an crone that had called this place home since he had known her adjusted her long, white flowing robes and limped over to a simple
wood-fired stove where a kettle was boiling. She poured the contents into two glass mugs and handed one to Karegu.
"It's your favorite, remember? Afal blossoms and ground synamon. Do drink up, before it gets cold." The old crone's weathered snout wrinkled
in a smile as Karegu took a long draught from his mug, his eyes widening slightly as his childhood came rushing back in a sweet and spicy rush. He remembered
his last visit to the priestess, when he was but a child of only 15 years (Dran'an can live 150 years or more), and she was already very old. Now, he stood
before her, well into his 80th year, suddenly very aware of his impending mortality.
"Now that I have buttered you up, it's time to tear you down," she hissed softly. "Karegu, I am fully aware of your bloodline's betrayal
of our kind, and the curse that carries. Your parents were only acting out the motions of protecting their spiritual bounty when they brought you to me for
your first reading over 80 years ago. They wanted to hear something different than what I had to offer your father, when he was first brought to me, on this
very night, nearly 2 centuries ago." She took a sip of the contents of her mug and savored the taste before continuing. "That is not and apparently,
will not be the case. The stones have been cast, Karegu, and not in your favor. Your ancestor violated the Goddess' ancient law when he murdered
Mirr'Lin and assumed the throne in the name of enslaving our fellow thinking creatures." She took another drink and leveled her exceptionally bright
eyes at Karegu. "Your father had the opportunity to change his destiny several times along the way, and he did not. Instead, he taught his lineage of
bloodshed and war to you, filling your head with glorified stories about the old days when we were locked to our planet, and engaged in senseless bloodshed
among ourselves."
"He wanted me to be a great leader and follow in his footsteps," Karegu spoke softly, remembering that though he may be king and a Dran'an of
science, there are rules to follow - never piss off a Genau'Goeg priestess among the most important. The hellish-looking battle claws of her station hung
on the wall behind her, glowing with an unearthly blue light. He shuddered a little and continued. "My father never killed more than was necessary, and
kept in line with the basic tenants of your teachings - live at one with nature."
"Your father corrupted my words and twisted them to suit his own needs. As did your ancestors." She took in a deep, rattling breath as she finished
her drink and drew her robes in tightly around her, as if to ward off a chill. "The urge to conquer is strong within our species, Karegu'Rhia. It is
the edict of the gods that we cast off this primal urge and better ourselves, both spiritually and physically. Without the health of one, the other sickens and
dies over time." The crone started coughing violently, covering her toothless muzzle with the sleeve of her white robe. Karegu could see small flecks of
red spattered on the cloth when she withdrew it. After a moment, she continued, more quietly now.
"I have lived far beyond my years to serve one purpose, my child, fitted to me by the Goddess of the Harvest. I was assigned to the start of your horrible
lineage, to Draig the White himself, to be a moral compass for you and your ancestors, in the hopes that the events in your very near future would not come to
pass." She fell into another coughing fit, but managed to make her way over to the wall where her fighting claws hung. The old priestess took them down
and carried them over to Karegu, presenting them to him.
"The girl...one who carries the signs of our returning Goddess...these belong to her now," she hissed before slinking over to the doorway, blood
trickling from the side of her mouth.
"You she-bitch!" Karegu snarled. "You give me only criticism, bad omens, and bits of old metal? I came seeking answers!"
"Manners, child," the priestess snarled, disrobing and revealing her shredded and age-disfigured wings. She opened the door and staggered outside,
with Karegu following close behind. "The time for my final flight has arrived. And the answers you seek, you are not willing to hear." With a grimace
of pain, she spread open her wings, a sudden and strong wind gusting around them. "I leave you with this, my final vision. I foresee your Goddess
incarnate escaping you into a sea of black, only to return to you later, more powerful than you could ever imagine, to reap the dark crops your ancestors have
sewn." With that as her epitaph, the old priestess climbed painfully into the air on long-neglected wings and turned southward towards a vast mountain
range in the distance, crowned by a smoking, active volcano - the Mountain of Black Fire, where all old Dran'an make their final flight. Karegu watched the
volcano for some time, and was sure he could see the glint of her grey body in the moonlight, sillouhetted against the black of the sky and smoke, plummeting
to its final, firey resting place. For the first time in his life, Karegu'Rhia now wondered if, when his time came, he too would make that last flight...