The Acrae Mountains and the Valley of Tal Sirion

[S t e v e K B]

You withdraw the tattered scroll from its stand. It is gargantuan; completely rolled up and placed in your arms, it still manages to tire them with its immense weight. You set it upon the table, and, drawing your chair closer to you, you unfurl it with a small crack.

Before you is written, in the small but bold script of the Hurkhans, the telling of the mighty lord Tyh Gaur and his people.

You read on...

Hurkhans: The Hurkhans, before they were claimed by Tyh Gaur, were an indigenous people who had settled on the Acrae mountains; leaderless, they had ventured out of their garden alone, wandering through the lands. However, a bitter frost lay over the land and the native beasts, hurkhurs, larger and bloodthirstier variants of their smaller wolf cousins, constantly pestered and attacked the Hurkhan people. Consequent hunting parties were unsuccessful, as the Hurkhan men were overtaken by both fear and hunger.

Then one night, a tall, bronzed figure came into the camp, covered only by rough loincloth and clutching in his hand a great sword of length and weight; oblivious to the freezing cold. The curious peoples drew near to him, and upon the rocky peak of the mountain he swore to protect them and to lead them forever if they would hail him as their eternal chief. The people assented, in return for stopping the hurkhurs, which by now had alone decimated the population from a healthy 400 to 320. The eventual fight that came on between Tyh Gaur, for this was the mighty figure, and the king of the hurkhur beasts became legend; his sword fallen from the mountain, Tyh Gaur wrestled and broke the beast with his hands, and then draped himself in its hide and walked triumphantly down from the beast caves.

The Hurkhan people followed, setting as their symbol and name the same mighty beast that had so troubled them, and followed Tyh Gaur, their savior and Chief, down the mountain to the calm arable Tal Sirion valley below, where they proceeded to create a warrior-farmer society. It was here that Tyh Gaur showed them the rudimentary basics of crafting, of better methods of clothing oneself than with hides, and the concept of an immobile home.

Culture and Ideology: Hurkhan culture espouses dependence on preparing oneself for battle continuously and the importance of justice for the creation of peace and order in their own communities. Their society has no higher ranks but the rank of Chieftain-King, which belongs to Tyh Gaur alone throughout existence; no matter the occupation, as long as one earns his or her own keep, they are equal to perta – the Hurkhan word for human. Their trials for criminals are unusually speedy due to their adherence to justice, and low is their age of maturity. At age 15 they consider their sons and daughters to be adults of their own. Above all, Hurkhans are proud of their heritage and their relationship to one another.

Hurkhan homes are austere and simple, built of cut mountain stone, mimicking their equally simple way of life, which revolves around battle-readiness and the procreation of more Hurkhan citizens. Due to their focus on creating the best-trained citizens possible, however, Hurkhans tend to have only one or two children throughout their lifetimes, both because of their late age of conception, which is typically around the mid-20’s, and their focused outlook on the development of less children for higher quality.

Hurkhans are a passionate people, and not just in war; though strict on displays of weakness such as public kissing and weeping, they do not consider actions of love, through embracing, or honor, in the form of kneeling, to be taboos. The love of parent and child is venerated by the people, who display this love to outsiders primarily through their communal living arrangements. It is not uncommon to see a large, extended family live together on a farm, though the bond of father-mother-child(ren) is never suppressed through it.

Women are expected to be as physically capable as possible; both men and women work the fields together and are treated the same until women become of age to bear children, upon which they are still expected to take much responsibility in the affairs of the home. Likewise, men are expected to be at the height of physical ability, and to always work towards improving their physical condition as well as battle ability through strenuous training and competition at the local gathering place, while juggling this with farm work to insure the family’s posterity.

In battle the Hurkhans are well-feared; they have superior fighting ability and tactics, an incredible sense of camaraderie, and pure tenacity and bloodthirstiness. They do not always win their battles, but they make a conscious choice of winning their wars, no matter the cost.

Technology: The Hurkhans are a farm-polis society; they are also skilled in the mining of valuable minerals from their surrounding mountains and the crafting of sturdy and dependable weapons, armors, and farming implements. They are complete fools when it comes to bodies of water, however, as they are an inland rocky-mountain/vale group of people, and the largest body of water they come into contact with is the river Geithe, which streams from the Acrae mountains and waters their lands.  

[S t e v e K B]

The cold mountain air slapped at his face and bare, muscular body, as if trying to peel it away the skin with its tiny clawed hands. Tyh ignored the sensation; weariness of the long journey pervaded his supple body, chilled the very core of his body.

He stood atop the high mountain peak, above the peaks of its peers, and felt its name upon his lips; for the first time since he had set out from the great Library, he spoke. "Acrae."

"You shall be the Acrae mountains." As if for more measure, he suddenly thrust his right hand up; the peak seemed to grow taller, sharper, if by a little bit. Then it flattened out into the mold of a crude chair. Tyr gave a chuckle. It had been long since he had felt at home.

He looked down into the early morning darkness, onto the outer slopes of the tall mountains. Small fires were clumped together, nearby crude tents of animal hide. Around the fires sat huddled the shivering forms of the people. His people, he thought with a pang. He felt a sensation he had never felt before: remorse.

"You have been alone for too long." His grey eyes remained clear, as piercing as the mountain peaks, but a dull haze clouded their edges. "Forgive me."

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The tall stranger, bare chested and only clothed in a loincloth, entered the camp. Unbidden. Uncalled for. In such a time! Early winter frost and those giant beasts had devastated the camp, and now they would have to fight another man for survival. And he was big. So very big. And the sword latched onto his belt was far more beautiful than the rough pig iron tools they had to fight with. In its simplicity, in its gleaming beauty, was the mirrored fear of death.
It was large, a two-handed sword that most instantly knew at first glance that they would never be able to hold up with ease.

And the man, lo! He was a Herculean figure, tanned the perfect shade of brown, muscles bulging. Dark, brown hair, and set with grey eyes. Such lonely grey eyes. Keirta looked on the stranger with hidden awe. Not even her father, the current chieftain, who had slain many a challenger to lead, could have ever competed with this man, not even in the prime of his life. And yet that trace of loneliness clung to the air about him, and she knew in the depths of her heart that this man was different.

She carried the meager sack of food in her arms into the largest tent, the one belonging to her father and her family. No doubt the camp scouts had already seen the man enter, and they would be reporting to her father the presence of this divine figure. She was right.

They spoke in hushed voices, eyes wide open with fear and hunger. "He's no doubt here to kill us and take our food!"

"Yes, yes!"

"Chief, send the men out! We must kill him before he has the chance!"

The wizened old man nodded, his tired eyes drooping and looking down towards the ground. In the depths of his eyes were mirrored defeat, surrender. The men around him continued to argue in their hushed voices.

Suddenly the howl of a creature rang through the camp. With sheer surprise the men stood up and drew their swords, eyes now full of despair and fury. They ran out, and Keirta followed, to see if she could help in their defense against the inevitable raid by the beasts, the hurkhur.

Screams rang through the camp as she tilted her head out the doorway. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a hulking black mass. She was too slow; the giant wolf-like creature leapt towards her, teeth gleaming in its wide snarl and claws extended like daggers.

Then with an uncharacteristic yelp it was on the ground, blood and guts flowing freely from a huge gash vertically down its side. Keirta looked up into the eyes of the stranger, and for a moment lost feel of what was going on around her. Then he was gone, bounding through the camp, swinging his sword as if a light toy side to side, hurkhur beasts falling in mid-strike and mid-run. Soon another howl echoed, this time away from the camp, and they were gone.

Keirta was still in mute shock over what had just occurred, but the men of the camp were now stirring. They looked over the tall stranger, and this time in their eyes was also the same wonder that had taken hold of Keirta. A few knelt, the tips of their rough, dented swords stabbed straight into the earth in front of them and their hands locked around the hilt, and bowed their heads. Then spoke a voice from behind Keirta, the soft, old voice of her father, tinged with the lost presence of old strength. "Are you our lord? Has the maker sent you to reclaim us?"

The stranger stood tall, and set his unblinking gaze upon her father. "I am Tyh Gaur of War and Earth. I am here to be your chieftain."

Her father gave a sad smile, and nodded his head. "So you have, milord. Look upon you, and you shall see that you have come late. What we have to offer you is meager; it is our flesh and the hearts that beat within us." He made a fist with his right hand, and beat it onto his chest.

"But before you take your throne among us, milord, I have but one boon." He gave a pause and raggedly breathed in the chill air. "It is tradition among our people, your people, that the one spoken wish of the prior chieftain is followed, no matter what, by the next."

Tyh Gaur nodded his head solemnly in assent. "Request it, mortal, and I will carry out your wish."

"We are a humble people, milord, but we are also a strong people. The winter chill has killed or driven away many of the creatures and plants of the mountains, and with this famine has come the fury of the wild hurkhur, these beasts." The old man kicked aside the slumped body of the dead creature. "Very precious information have we gathered, through the loss of our strongest and most valiant men. They are lead by chieftain, as we are, and the foul monster resides in the grand caves above us." He pointed upward towards the mountain. "Slay it for us, and bring us its body as proof. Then I shall pass onto you my authority as chief, and you will be our leader and our king."

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The fight that followed is one that has been etched into the memories and legends of the Hurkhans forever. Time has diluted the memory somewhat, changed some minor details here and there, dropped things altogether in some parts. The true story, however, remains in the essence of these folk tales. Lord Tyh Gaur, Champion of his people, went up alone to the mountain caves. He slew a great many of the beasts as he traversed deeper and deeper into the caves, to the very inner halls of the mountains, back to the outer core, to a final opening that existed on the other side of the mountain; his journey lead him through and past the entire mountain without forcing him to cross the ordeal that is the winding paths. But he was not afraid of the darkness of the caves, for as lord of the earth the very mountain spoke to him and lead him through.

On the other side of the mountain, at the foot of the other cave entrance, lay the sleeping body of the hurkhur chief. Enormous, ten feet long and nearly 5 feet wide, it rose up from its slumber as it heard the death cries of its subordinates. Its first strike tore Lord Gaur's sword out of his grasp and into the inner recesses of the caves; its second tore a gleaming scar diagonally across Lord Gaur's chest. Then the mighty lord grappled with the creature, finally wrestled it into submission, and broke its neck.

Down the mountainside Lord Tyh Gaur came, the body of the beast draped over his mighty shoulders, the scar on his chest gleaming with his immortal blood. That day the title of Chieftain, Lord of the Hurkhans, passed onto him; he kept that scar on his chest as a sign of his victory over the otherworldly beast. And his people became the Hurkhans, mighty warriors of strength and ability.

His people roused, Lord Gaur lead them down the mountain to the bountiful valley that lay hidden, surrounded by the towering mountains around it. The seeds of his 50 years of learning at the Library then bloomed; stone cut homes were built to replace the crude huts, farming was taught to the people, and the basics of metal smithing and crafting was passed on from the annals of time.

[[1511 words - 15 EXP]]  

[S t e v e K B]

He sat on the stone seat of the mountain, and felt the warmth of the sun cut past the cold sweep of the wind and lap his body in its embrace. Over his shoulders was the draped the skin of the hurkhur chief; it had been skinned and cured over the past week, and now it was fit for him to wear. Its eyes were of dull glass now, no longer the orbs of red fury that had challenged him in the mountain. Its ivory teeth still glistened in the bright sunlight, like knives set to kill.

Tyh Gaur tilted his head to below him, to the masses of people around him. His people, he felt the thought cross his mind. Soon he would apply what he had pored over for fifty years in the library to improving the lives of these people. Halls of stone, weapons of the finest iron, maybe even steel. Woven clothing. The ecstasy of his victory carried his thoughts wildly into dreams. Soon, we will be a nation to be reckoned with.

One by one the people knelt around his throne on the mountain peak; but he noticed that they held back from falling on their faces or from flinging their crude weapons away. They were surely a proud people, and with some annoyance he realized that they were treading the line of defiance and confidence. Well, he would allow it. On his long trek he had had trepidation in his heart over whether or not his people would be true warriors, but now he could see that the Craftsman had been so very meticulous in his calculations.

The rocky harshness of the mountains, the bitter cold that would undoubtedly visit them; the unending stream of ravenous beasts and the necessity of strength to survive, even in the greener and more bounteous valleys. All these were factors to perfect his people. In their trials and tribulation they would find strength, but more importantly, endurance. Like the mountains of stone they would be eternal, and the strengths garnered from their harsh living would make them truly terrible in battle. Indeed, the Craftsman had truly designed such a grand plan.

When all his people had gathered and knelt, Tyh rose from his stone throne. In a strong voice, he called out to the mountain, "Hurkhans! This day I, Tyh Gaur of Earth and War, swear to thee to be your Chieftain! Do not fear, do not quail; through all trial and tribulation we shall be victorious!"

He looked upon them, their proud eyes, their instinctively cold and haughty expressions, so very much like his own. "I shall watch over you. Do you take me for your King, now and forever?"

The mountain shook with the thunderous reply. Men stood, thrusting the points of their spears and their swords into the sky. Women and children rose and raised their hands. In one voice, unified, they shouted their affirmation. "Lord Tyh Gaur!"

From his stance in front of his stone chair, Tyh stood and drew in the sound of the people. Then he raised his hands, trembling with concentration, and the mountain followed in step, shaking and rumbling softly. Pebbles and small rocks dislodged and slid down the mountain. "Thus I am your Chief, eternal!"

[[546 words - 5 EXP]]
[[Total: 20 EXP]]  

[S t e v e K B]

The procession continued to pass by Tyh, as men and women lined up to kneel at his feet and swear their oaths of fealty. As they continued through, he turned his impassive face to Keirta, the previous chieftain's daughter, and asked her a question. "And so you left the land where you awoke, traveling for a lifetime to come here. What happened to the first ones?"

Her beautiful, smiling face fell, and she averted her eyes to the ground. "They ...fell, milord. Some from age, others wild beasts; sickness, accidents, murders. We have come a long way."

Even with his rocky constitution, Tyh could not hide the sad smile that came to his face. "You are curious as to why I took so long."

Her eyes looked up into his, and she nodded her head. "Yes, milord. Our entire lives we have lived, danger among us, an evil companion that poisoned our souls. We were lost for so long, so afraid. And you.. You were not there to guide us."

Her eyes became strong and hard. "Because you weren't there, we had to stand up on our own! So many of us have died! She died! And its because you didn't come!" She was now half shouting, her lips drawn into a small pout, her nose crinkled in an angry glare.

The procession stopped, and all near enough to see and hear looked as if they were stricken by lightning. Immediately one of the older women reached forward and grabbed Keirta from Tyr's side, while begging for mercy.

Tyr stood up from his stone seat on the high peak, and looked down at his people. "Long have you waited, my people, for me. You have endured trials that you should not have had to. Many have died for you to have come to where you are now. But do not believe that I have not, for every waking moment of ever day for the past fifty years, thought about you."

He looked into Keirta's eyes, now, his cold grey eyes suddenly alive and impassioned. "I have endured trials beyond your imagination, and from it I have delved into the secret and forgotten arts. And those years you have endured alone have made you a people strong beyond compare. So follow me now, for everything that has happened until now has happened for a purpose."

"Come, we will descend. Follow my path." And he took a step down from his chair into mid air. Keirta gave a gasp as she pulled herself away from the old woman, and she reached forward to grab Tyh's arm. But she missed, and with horror she looked straight at his feet.

But the sound of a foot meeting rock clacked, and the amazed people watched as with every step Tyh took down, a stair formed in the ground to meet him. A man's voice rang out down the mountainside. "Surely, he is our master!" Men’s voices joined in, hurrahing to the declaration.

[[498 words - 5 EXP]]
[[Total: 25 EXP]]  

[S t e v e K B]

The chill wind lapped up their bare bodies. In the sandy plain beside the flowing river, they stood in unison, new, gleaming blades lifted above their heads as statues. Then they came at him, darting side to side, others lunging forward in open spots. With a turn of his arm, Tyh sent them all flying into the ground. He gave a deep-throated chuckle. "Good, good. You are now learning how to fight."

The men, dirty and caked with grime and sweat, all followed in their hearty laughter. Some were old, with large, bushy beards beneath their weathered chins. Others were young, some barely sporting a few of those hairs of age. But they were as one as they lay in the soft, dry ground of the north, soaking into their minds the teachings of their Lord Tyh Gaur. Each took to his blade with especial care; only days before had they finally been able to craft them with ability, under the sharp auspices of their master.

They were of the same mold, all singularly three feet long, but in their detailing were their differences. Each bore the mark of their individual maker; others bore the letter of speech that corresponded to the names of their fathers, of the written script that they slowly learned every night from Tyh.

He looked upon them with great pride; their ability to learn and adapt was truly amazing to him. He was enmeshed in his thoughts, and would have continued to have been, had not the town bell rung then.

With a start the men rose up, faces suddenly grim; their hands clenched their swords. In a double file line they quickly fell in, and followed their leader.

They entered the newly built stone town, expecting in the depths of their hearts some evil or doom; with surprise they saw strewn through the streets the fallen bodies of hurkhur beasts. Women, their women, stood around, clutching in their hands the crude swords of their past, their newly spun clothes drenched in blood. Keirta looked up from the largest hurkhur beast, and, meeting Tyh's eyes, dropped them immediately. Her soft voice spoke, "It is not only the men of the Hurkhans who know how to fight, my lord."

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The men cheered, as Tyh passed his goblet of wine to his new bride. She blushed, her pretty face overflowing with the radiance of joy. "I, Keirta, daughter of Jao, bind myself to you, my lord. May the High Lord smile upon our union."

Tyh nodded his head, his familiar close-lipped smile upon his face. And in the depths of his mind, he too asked for the Craftsman to smile upon their union. Where are you, High master?, he asked in the recesses of his heart.

[[460 words - 4 EXP]]
[[29 EXP]]