The truth? A dear friend of mine believed the truth to be a fluid thing, that truth changes with our perspective, with age, with priority. As a troubadour, I was taught that the truth is that thing we want to believe the most. Did the shepherd truly defeat the horror with nothing but a spear? Perhaps. As parents, do we not tell our children that they are beautiful even when they are not? Do you believe it to be so? Do the children believe it to be so? Very often, the lie becomes the truth.
I am not trying to evade the question.
We often search for meaning in things that have no meaning and so create our own. Meaning is created but which is the most important, the creation or the search? Which has taught us the most? The meaning, you see, is derived from the search, not from any inherent rightness present in the universe. And my meaning may be, will be, different from yours.
Still, you do not listen. Very well. The truth.
My mother was born and raised deep within the Servos. She was what you call a jungle t’skrang of the Ampashe tribe. The translation is difficult but Ampashe means something akin to the people who see from beneath the shadow of the leaf. Difficult as I said. Shamanism, elementalism, nethermancy, these disciplines are common among her people – they tend not to see our world in quite the same way as many races do. Take this and build what meaning you wish.
As is often the case in such tales, there was a prophesy. The prophesy was old and barely remembered but spoke of a specific egg that would be laid and the hatchling that would emerge and the things he would do. Do you realize what I just said? Do you see the significance? Some of you are confused. Some of you disbelieve; such a thing is impossible. Such a thing must surely be horror tainted. Perhaps. But let us hear the rest.
The egg would be small, malformed, and colorless. From this egg the Chetshan Mahuala would come forth. The Fearless Ending. He would have white skin and red eyes. Do you hear me? Do you begin to see the implications? The hatchling would become a great warrior, the greatest the Ampashe had ever seen. And from his actions would come the destruction of the people. Herein was the problem; nowhere in the prophesy did it name which people that would be. The Ampashe? The enemies of the Ampashe? They did not know and so did not know whether to destroy this child when it came or to nurture it.
My mother was a forest wanderer, something like a cross between a scout, an elementalist, and an archer. She came back from her wanderings one night bearing an egg. It was small. It was malformed. It was white. She claimed to have laid it but would not say who the father was. The Ampashe vacillated; at last the time had come upon them, or so they believed, and still they did not know what to do. Fearing, my mother stole her own egg from the hatchery and fled her home. She fled far from the forest into the territory of those t’skrang known as the Pale Ones. She entered in, claiming to have possession of one of their eggs. They allowed her in. They too had a prophesy of such an egg. It bore little semblance to the prophesy of the Ampashe. To them, the child would be the Chetshan Ginsayu, Fearless Beginning. He would be the great uniter; he would bring all t’skrang under the rule of the Pale Ones and would lead them to a glorious new future.
Again you ask for the truth. What does it matter? I have heard similar tales from other t’skrang cultures. Whose story is prophesy and whose story is meaningless?
The egg was taken to the hatchery and when the time was right, given an egg father. His name was Annin Swordswinger; a powerful swordmaster. He began to bond to the egg and as the time came close to when the egg must surely hatch, Annin’s friends began to see subtle changes in their friend. He became quiet, reserved. He began to shut himself off from the other Pale Ones, drawing in to himself.
When the child finally hatched, it was as everyone had hoped. The hatchling was white, nearly transluscent, with red eyes and, the sign that would separate it from all others, the hatchling emerged from the egg with gender.
The wise ones of the Pale Ones watched the child eagerly, waiting to see what this young t’skrang would become. Right away it seemed that their hopes were well founded, the hatchling was the first to swing, the first to talk, to run, to swing a sword. Truly, the child was fearless. The wise ones once found the young Chetshan Ginsayu swimming in the king’s lake. Do you know that the king of the Pale Ones is a dragon? When questioned, the young t’skrang replied, “The king does not mind because he does not know, he is sleeping on the bottom and I am swimming on the top. And I am much too small to bother about anyway.”
So it was that this strange young t’skrang was trained in the ways of warfare, leadership, and politics against the day that he would unite all the t’skrang under the Pale Ones. Here, too, he excelled.
All was well until the young t’skrang was granted an audience with the king. The young t’skrang found favor in his eyes and was told that he may ask one question and that the king would answer him truthfully. The question was this, “What must I do to avoid the destiny laid out before me?”
“It depends. Why do you wish to avoid it?”
“I think that I do not want to be in charge of everyone. I want to tell stories.”
“You cannot escape this future. Your coming was foretold in ages long past.”
“I think that I still do not want to be in charge of everyone. I want to tell stories and that is all.”
“Then you must run away and become a troubadour. Find the grey hand; it is the only thing that may prevent your destiny.”
And that was it. You must run away. And so he did. He became a troubadour so that he could tell the stories he wished. He shortened his name though he kept both the name of his mother’s people and the name of his father’s people close in his heart. He sought every rumor of what the grey hand was or might be. And then one day, while seeking repairs on a horsehoe, the young t’skrang met a young lady by the name of Ashley Tinker.
And this my friends, is the end of one story and the beginning of another.
Assorted Prophesies of the Chetshenya:
Book of Visions
Rejoice in our victory my people but keep a vigilant watch. There will come a day when the ancient enemy will once more arise. It will cover the land in darkness and in evil. It will bring death and pain. We will fight and die. The last of our armies will be gathered on the mount there to make a final stand. On this day, the seas will turn red with blood and the sky will weep for us all. On this day our people will have one hope. There will come one, the Chetshenya Pahuala and he will be the Fearless Destroyer. By these signs shall you know him; he will not be hatched of our people but will arise from the earth and shall be as a ghost. His eyes shall burn with the embers of Death’s Sea. In his right hand he will carry salvation and in his left terror and an ending of our race. We must find him before the ancient enemy. He must fight for us or, on that day, we shall surely perish. This is our hope and our responsibility; find the pale one and make him ours.
Book of Prophesies
In the last hour of the last night of the sixth year of the owl, the earth shall tremble and quake. The stars will flee and the moon will fade. By this you will know that the end of days has come and that the servant of Death, the Chetshenya Mahuala, has hatched. He will arise from the small, colorless egg and he will have no need for the kiesa. His scales shall be white as the foam of the sea and his eyes will reflect the prison that houses his master. The Chetshenya will not be taught in the ways of his people but will lust after the blood of name-givers. We cannot stand before him for he will sweep up all cities before him and leave nothing but barren earth behind. Flee my people, lest you shall be destroyed by the Fearless Ending.
Scroll of Tomorrow
Beware of your pride, my people. In days to come we will grow rich from wise and crafty trading but in this will be our downfall. At the height of our power, the Chetshenya Ginsayu will approach you in supplication. Take these for signs; he will be pale with eyes of fire. He will hide his power and come to you to petition your help. You will see him and not know him for he will be strange to you. Twice he will ask aid and twice you will turn him away. On this day the seas will rise against you and, too late, you will see your foolishness. In fear you will seek his protection but he will not give it. You must have his word of honor or our people are doomed to destruction. There is but one way that you may convince him to give his protection. The weakest among you must stand against him. If the weak one lives then the Chetshenya will teach humility. He will destroy corruption and reveal all lies. Death will fly behind him and he will be both the ending and the beginning. He will destroy you all and save you for himself.
Gurdy’s Book of Recipes
…. Continue to knead the dough until it has…oh bother…not again…I see a great mist of darkness descending on our lands from the north. I see in the front…a t’skrang. He is white and his eyes…are sad. I see great sorrow. A wish…he wishes…desperately wants…what? What does he want? The dark mists part and behind him I see…destruction. Our destruction. A tidal wave of death…our death? I don’t know. We must find what he wants…we must give him what he wants or his path will not stop. He will continue until all the known lands lie barren and fallow. What is it? What will stop him? He rides forward on such a beast I have not seen. Flames of death leap from his hand. Look away…must find the thing, the answer. I see a hand. Human? I see…nothing…it is gone. Where…? Ah yes, continue to knead the dough until….
The End of the World and Other Popular Prophesies
Another interesting prophesy, this one by Hanokin the beekeeper, involves a rather interesting t’skrang. Hanokin states that this Chetshenya Obedi (which I believe translates as Brave Death or some such) will be a fearless albino of unusual breeding who will, apparently, be quite the little misanthrope; leading armies of death and hell, devouring (literally) his enemies, and all that. Hanokin gave several signs and portents that one should watch for but the interesting part is that Hanokin was not sure on whose side this t’skrang will fight. In fact, Hanokin was relatively certain that the prophesy was intentionally vague on that point as this is “one of those crossroads type of things where the Fates don’t rightly know themselves how a man’s heart’s gonna go.” One thing that Hanokin was sure of was that whichever side did not gain the alliance of this albino would be very sorry indeed. The beekeeper was apparently also a bit worried since he was relatively certain that this t’skrang will not be born (hatched?) to any of those clans loyal to our people. However, I would not be too worried, gentle reader, as Hanokin is not well known for the veracity of his seeings. Imagine…our world populated by nothing but humans; humans that fly to the stars on giant metal ships that move without aid of magic or elements…ridiculous.
The Task of the Watchers
We watch for the coming of the Chetshenya. By the Signs we shall know him. Sign the First: he shall be hatched of a small, pale egg. Sign the second: he shall be male at birth. Sign the third: he shall be fair of scale. Sign the fourth: he shall have eyes as the ruby. Sign the fifth: he shall have the charm of a cobra. Sign the sixth: he will fear nothing. Sign the seventh: he will love nothing. Sign the eighth: flames will leap from his hands. We watch for the coming of the Chetshenya so that we may side with him and in so doing, live.
Letter to the Clan Leader
I have completed your seeing. As you have feered, the Chetshenya Shindai will indeed come among our people. However, the time is not yet ripe and will be many long years in coming. The daughter of your daughter of your daughter will hold the fate of the world within her hands; when the Chetshenya does come he will be grievously injured. Your progeny alone will bear the burden of his life or his death. I cannot see which is the wisest course; a great darkness bars my sight. I know only that he will appear as the demons of old and that a terrible stench of death follows behind him. The future leader of our clans must be wise. She must be strong. On her shoulders will rest not only the future of our clan but the future of the world.
The Songs of Seeing
The Chetshenya Isabhar or The Deepest Places
The center of the jungle.
Deep below the earth.
Rises the change of the tide.
Covered by pale white.
Revealed through red reflections
Rises the change of the tide.
air or fire?
lead or follow?
fool or magi?
life or death?
We know the way to hide.
The task of our people now,
To unearth the deepest places.