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| A Year in Skins; by Swithin Dinmouth | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 7 2015, 02:25 PM (92 Views) | |
| Admin | Jan 7 2015, 02:25 PM Post #1 |
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Prologue: A year ago is when I started my journey, and I have learned more in this year than in my entire life before. I have grown to manhood in Messar, found a place in society, and I have made my life as a Messaran. But I was blind to the true beauty of those who also call Yalas their home. My tale began thanks to my career; a wilderness guide. I know Messar's wilds like the back of my hand, and I made a fair bit of coin in showing others through them. Travelers, merchants, caravans. They all pay the same. But then came the job of a lifetime; a merchant caravan offering me ten times my yearly salary to travel with them from Fjarr, through Messar, and deep into Shale. Without hesitation, I accepted. I led the caravan to Fjarr, where we traveled to Earlestad, and I came to know the Earlean culture. They exposed me to the Fjar, or 'Fjär' in their tongue. On our way southeast, we crossed through Fjärrmän territory. We saw natives watching us, but they never attacked. In fact, we awoke one morning to a bag filled with food and supplies resting in one of our wagons. I tried to track down the person who was responsible, but he left no trail. Next, we moved through Messar, my home. After trading with Messaran merchants in Heavy-Helm, we made our way to Gutter's-End, from whence we took a ship to the coasts of Northern Shale, and began to trade with the Selans. Then, we returned to Forest's-Fingers, where I received my payment. Oddly, it wasn't enough. I held in my hands more gold than I would see in a decade, and it felt worthless. I had seen such diversity; such beauty in the other races. It had moved me. All of them thrived in their own ways. They had their own secrets. But it was more than their secrets and knowledge that appealed to me. It was their entire way of life. And so, without a moment of hesitation, I invested the nearly ten-thousand gold messes into travel equipment and a scribe, and we made our way north, to Fjärr. |
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| Admin | Jan 9 2015, 07:59 PM Post #2 |
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Chapter 1: The Earleans A fortnight came and went as Randal and I made our way north across Messar. We avoided contact with bandits and wildlife, making our journey quite uneventful. At least, until we reached Iron-Wall. As most will tell you, Iron-Wall is a city on the northern reaches of Messar. It is extremely defensible, and has many farms and aquifers within the walls, meaning that it can withstand siege for years. It was built in hopes to keep the northern folk at bay, but I suspect that if they wanted to take Messar, one city could not stop them. When we arrived in the city, we made for the inn, where we were immediately questioned by the locals. "What are ye' doing this far north? Ye' don't look like soldiers." "There ain't many woods need scouting this part of Yalas." These were the inquiries thrown at us the entire evening. I myself did not draw half as much attention as Randal, who refused to leave his books in the room. After a few hours of questioning, however, I was able to turn the tables, after finding a local wilderness guide. We began to regale one another with tales, and indeed, there was immediate comfort between the two of us. I used this situation to ask him about the people of the plains. His mood changed as he lifted his shirt to reveal a collection of sickening scars on his chest. He began to explain how the scars were the result of a lion attack. He told me that a young Fjärrmän hunter had been tracking the beast, and came to his rescue immediately upon seeing that he was being attacked. The story he told was remarkable. He said that the Fjärrmän thrust his spear into the lion's leg, and that the beast turned and sunk its teeth into the Fjärrmän's arm. The Fjärrmän apparently lifted the lion off of the ground with his trapped arm, and struck it to death with his free hand. I had never been so amazed by a story. He went on to say that the Fjärrmän took him into their village. They healed his wounds, and fed him. They told him stories. Their women danced with him, their men laughed with him. And when the time came to leave, he was sent away clothed in gifts. I will never forget what he told me next. "No matter what any Messaran tells you, they are better people than we." This was the first time I had heard a Messaran say a kind word about the northern folk, and it moved me. But despite the respect he held for them, he suggested that I first seek out the Earleans. Many Fjär have assimilated into Earlean culture, and may be able to take me into a Fjär city. I knew that the two lived together from my time with the caravan, but I followed his advice. The next morning, we left for Earlestad. When one enters Fjärr, he knows it. The onset of millions of wild creatures is instantaneous and overpowering. It is as if they know that in the south, they will be hunted without cause, and choose to avoid them just as the people of their homeland do. Randal spent his time reveling at beasts which he had only read about. Elephants (Elefants), lions (lejon), antelopes (antiloper). I had seen them all with the caravan, and they were not what I had come to study. We lost track of time. Weeks rolled by as we made for Earlestad. Time rolled by more slowly as we made our ways around Fjärrmän and animal territory alike. Eventually, though, we reached Earlestad. The city was beautiful, just as I remember it having been. Its walls were made of wood, and stood as tall as trees. Only the roofs of the tallest buildings atop the hill stuck out over the tops of the walls. For the first time since we'd arrived, Roland was not alone in his amazement. We decided to see the Ealdorman of Earlestad, in hopes of learning about the entire Earlean Territory, rather than just the city. This hunch paid off, and we were told of Wurmstad: a Fjär city located about a day's journey north. It was founded by refugees who were no longer happy living under the king. We thanked the Ealdorman, and started to leave. On our way out, we were told that the Ealdorman wished to introduce us to Earlean culture. We happily obliged. We were taken to a festivity called a blödning, where a young woman having her first blood was being celebrated. We were told that this ceremony was adopted from the Fjärrmän, and that it celebrated womanhood and fertility. Apparently, she was to take her first partner on this night, and lay with him before sunrise. If she failed to find a suitable man, she would continue to hold this ceremony every year. It is uncommon for young women to take a man during their first, second, or even third blödning. They enjoy the ceremony for its drinking, singing, dancing, and merrymaking. After the ceremony, we were told to stay for one more night. A Fjärrmän citizen's clan had been attacked by another in the Territories, and a member of his family was killed. Every able bodied man was invited to join this vengeful raid. Randal and I refused to fight, but we were told that we would almost certainly see another ceremony. This time we agreed, because they described it as being a young boy's transition into manhood. |
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| Admin | Jan 9 2015, 07:59 PM Post #3 |
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Chapter 2: The Fjär |
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| Admin | Jan 9 2015, 08:00 PM Post #4 |
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Chapter 3: The Fjärrmän Edited by Admin, Jan 9 2015, 10:05 PM.
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| Admin | Jan 9 2015, 08:01 PM Post #5 |
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Chapter 4: The Messarans |
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| Admin | Jan 9 2015, 08:02 PM Post #6 |
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Chapter 5: The Mesegans |
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| Admin | Jan 9 2015, 08:02 PM Post #7 |
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Chapter 6: The Shael'Ahn |
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| Admin | Jan 9 2015, 08:03 PM Post #8 |
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Chapter 7: The Kalshir'Ahn |
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12:20 AM Jul 11