14th of Rain’s Hand, 4e 101
“Are you going to let him?” She asked.
Tanan-Ze looked up from his work, at a pair of inquisitive white eyes, her chin resting on a pair of clawed hands that were, in turn, resting on the wooden table’s edge. He was still mixing the ingredients, readying them for heating, and she was still watching, keenly observing him work. The sounds of pelting rain outside and the occasional sizzle upon the hearth when a stray raindrop struck their cooking fire lent a calming, cozy atmosphere. Rain was a part of life in the swamps of his homeland, and the Saxheel knew how to make fire last in it. The flames cast a warm glow upon his home, giving him light to work by and bringing with it the delicious scent of cooking frog legs. They were going to enjoy this one, he was confident. Frogs legs with sauteed nightshade petals in a Bloodwine reduction.
“Do you want him to?” He answered the question with another question, hearing his stomach rumble. It did smell good.
“Should I want him to?”
Tanan, chuckled, shaking his head while he continued to mix. She’s your daughter, of course she’s going to answer with yet another question.
“He is an adult now. He can make his own decisions.” That was harder for Tanan to admit, because the youth was still somewhat irresponsible, but there was truth to it. Tah-Tehat was twenty-two. He had been hunting regularly with the Tum-Taleel, on of their mota, for 4 summers, proving himself a more than capable hunter and able to provide for the tribe. That being said, he also possessed a certain reputation for being fickle with his commitments, especially with regard to some of village’s young females. Granted, they were also fickle. Youth was an age for such things. He narrowed his eyes and gave the young Saxheel with her chin resting on her hands a look. Though fickle seemed to skip this one, his little Black-Tongue.
Wih-Jat was different. More like him, almost more Kota-Vimleel than Tum-Taleel, even sporting her father’s black tongue, which she was now flickering over her teeth, analyzing what he just said. She also possessed his more soft-spoken nature, whereas her brother? Tanan sighed, far more impetuous and belligerent. Like his mother. Well, it was part of the reason, even after almost thirty years of marriage, why she could still make his tail curl in the most pleasant way possible.
“Hmm…” She mused, turning her head to rest cheek instead of chin on her hands, and he saw her purple feathered crest raise slightly as she thought. An attractive mixture horns and feathers from both parents, though he would say that Wih and Tah were mostly their mother in appearance, with Wih only a little darker scaled, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Tanan-Ze was not considered attractive among the Tum-Taleel, his dull mottled oranged and purple scales too disadvantageous in the many shades of green of their world. His square features, with irregular horns along his jaw and brow, too thick for their tastes. And though he was compact and muscular for a Kota-Vimleel, he was rather short by Tum-Taleel standards. His own son stood almost a head taller than him and was muscular, his smooth scales the perfect combination of greens and bronzes that could make him nearly invisible in the swamps of their homeland. Very attractive by Tum-Taleel standards with powerful, strong features and neat rows of small horns along his jaw and brow bone. The purple crest of feathers only added to his charm, making him almost dashing.
“Then we will be going to see the Wasseek-Haleel?” She interrupted his thoughts with another question. This time an assumption. You definitely make them precocious, Tanan-Ze.
“If her father approves of the match, then yes.”
“If we go, may I then have a xeech'kis?” Her rising crest betrayed her excitement, though her tone was still soft-spoken. She had been the surprise child. Hatched when Tanan was already past his forty-fifth summer, his wife, Shei-Ja, only a little younger. But when some eggs can fail to hatch, you learn to appreciate the surprises.
“You really want one?” Tanan raised his brow. That was curious. He remembered their last visit to see the Wassek-Haleel. They went with another family, a family who went through the same process that Tanan was now about to go through. There were other motivations to go, of course; checking the alchemical ingredients at the local shop, for his wife to hear any news of outsiders from Gideon, and to cement trade between the two tribes. Well, at least until the Tum-Taleel decided once again to simply take what they wanted in a raid. Right now, however, the Tum-Taleel currently benefitted more by having the Wassek-Haleel continue what they were doing, though some, including Ra-Sakka, the father of the potential bride, didn’t see things that way.
But a child doesn’t think on those matters and Wih, at only 10 summers, was still a child, just out of the communal nursery that she shared with the other Saxheel children. Ready to assume more of the responsibilities of an adult Saxheel, but still a child. And he now remembered why she was so interested in a xeech’kis. There was a stall with a xeech'kis - a seed doll - artisan at the Wassek village and the child spent the whole day, quietly fascinated, watching the Wassek work, painting on a grain of rice.
“Yes, a grain of rice, with a butterfly on it.”
She has expensive tastes, Tanan smirked as he began to heat the ingredients, poisons to be used in the tribe’s next hunt, ever mindful of the frog’s legs. No fist-sized goard for her, no, she wanted the best, the hardest to make, a grain of rice. “And what will you do with it?”
“Keep it.” Wih replied, enjoying that she was stating the obvious.
“You aren’t afraid to lose it? A grain of rice is small, Wih. Insignificant.” If you convince her to go bigger, you won’t have to balk at the price of both the grain of rice and the materials for the wedding band. “How will you even see the butterfly? Butterflies are beautiful, meant to be seen.” He suddenly asked. You got her now.
“Oh, I can see it fine. The summer of the raid, as plain as the horns on my head. A whole wamasu from her brush on the grain of rice! Even its teeth! Colored too. But wamasu are very ugly, and a butterfly costs less.”
Child’s got an answer for everything, Tanan, just like you. He was doing the arithmetic in his head. The gold for the band, the amethysts, which needed to be nearly perfect stones, a deep purple, the labor of the jeweler, and... Tanan sighed, unable to resist those bright white eyes any further, the grain of rice with a butterfly on it. Hmm, he chuckled to himself, maybe they should just raid the Wassek and take what they want. Or… he could have Tah really assume the full responsibility of what he is proposing and have him pay for the band. You want to be an adult, Tah, then act like one and pay to have the wedding band made yourself. And then, he could easily afford the xeech’kis, because how could he ever refuse his little Black-Tongue?
The door to their home suddenly slammed shut, making both Saxheel look up from Tanan’s work. His daughter reached out and steadied one of the vials of poison, preventing it from falling.
A very wet Tah-Tehat, his loincloth dripping, his war-paint running. And by the blaze of his orange eyes and his stiff tail, the meeting with the prospective bride’s father did not go well. But, then again, Ra-Sakka was not the easiest to please. Tall, even among the Tum-Taleel, he was a powerful Saxheel hunter in his prime and he was every bit his tribe’s namesake, second in status only to the Pakseech. Granted, Tanan-Ze enjoyed some status of his own, he was married to the Pakseech’s sister, but Tah was aiming rather high nevertheless. This is where being fickle did not help him.
“Xuth!” The young male cursed, angrily throwing his spear to the ground. Wih’s eyes widened.
“Language, Tah.” Tanan warned. “And pick up your spear.”
“I don’t care!” He exploded and Tanan took a deep breath and gave his daughter a knowing look while they both braced themselves for a Tum-Taleel tantrum. Was something his mother was equally prone to. “How can he say I need to prove myself?” He hissed, his orange eyes narrowing. “I hunt with them! Four summers! A Wamasu even, on my own!” Son leaned closer to his father, getting drops of water all over his beige linen tilmahtli, since he was no longer of an age where showing the body was so important anymore. But he understood Tah’s choice of dress, he was trying to impress, especially today. The Tum-Taleel needed to see strength, power. Tah’s young eyes crackled and he beat his breast with his palm, pointing to himself. “I provide for the Tum-Taleel. I do my part!”
“So no visit to the Wassek-Haleel then?”
“Shut up, Wih!” Her brother snapped.
“Tah.” Tanan repeated carefully, his voice much lower, giving his son a look that the youth understood immediately. The body language then collapsed, his crest lowering. He picked up his spear and rested it on a rack next to Tanan’s spear, He then crossed over to where Wih sat and put his hand on his sister’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry, sister.” He apologized.
She smiled at her brother and nuzzled the hand on her shoulder with her neck. “The water still flows, Tah.”
No, Tanan wasn’t the tallest or the strongest of the Tum-Taleel, but he made up for it in other ways, knowing that on occasion, his soft-spokenness could be used to great advantage in the buzzing nest of wasps that was sometimes the Tum-Taleel village. His skill with alchemy, his detailed knowledge of the creatures and plants of the swamps, and his magic gave him value, both as a provider of medicine and as their best scout. That wasn’t to say that he couldn’t get angry, he could, and his youth was testament to what his anger could bring about.
Tah sat down on a low stool near the hearth to dry his scales, an elbow on his knee, his chin resting on his palm, clearly frustrated. “I just don’t understand.” He shook his head.
You will if you ever have a daughter. And for all of Ra-Sakka’s faults, his daughter, Aseis, was definitely worth protecting. All daughters are, for they become the Thtithik, and with the Hist, they give life to their people. Tanan moved from his alchemy with a quick look to Wih, warning her not to touch anything. She flashed her teeth and her little black tongue flicked out, not promising anything with her expression, which Tanan didn’t know if he should be amused by that or worried. At least, she would watch the ingredients to make sure they did not burn. Speaking of burning, he diverted from his path towards Tah to check on their meal, rotating the frog's legs. Perfectly browned. Only a few moments more. He scattered a few more nightshade petals and poured another dash of Bloodwine into the mix, because why not? He preferred more sauce. When he was satisfied, he continued to Tah, pulling up a stool next to his child and sat, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, ask yourself, Tah, is Aseis, daughter of Ra-Sakka, worth it? Is she worth you swallowing your pride?”
The young Saxheel looked up at his father, running his clawed hand through his purple feathers and nodded. “Yes, she is.”
That was new. Tah had had his share of females, Tanan wasn’t stupid. It was part of the youth’s reputation, but the way he spoke just now. That was serious. Tanan gave his son a thoughtful look. “Your mother is worth pride swallowing too. In the presence of the former Pakseech, her father, no less. It takes a real spear for that sort of ambition.”
“I want to marry her.” His son nodded, quickly getting up to head for his hammock.
Their home wasn’t large - no Saxheel home really was. Only a circular great room with a thatch and mud roof, so it was easy to see where the youth was headed. It sat on sturdy wooden stilts to keep anything dangerous in the water, which was mostly everything, from entering their home. A hole at the base of the home allowed for the placement of a large, shallow clay bowl with a wide lip, which held their cooking fire, whose smoke drifted out through a second hole in the roof, that was partially covered with a mini roof of mud and thatch, separated enough from the main roof to release the smoke of cooking, but also keeping water out. The furniture was just as simple, their hammocks, Tanan’s alchemy table and various shelves and baskets for his supplies and preserved samples of flora and fauna for study, and a table with stools where the family would eat together.
Contrary to what landstriders believed, the Saxheel were not a stupid people, but they were a simple people. They didn’t think in the permanency of stone and brick, of its ultimate frivolity. Putting importance in things that really meant nothing. Houses were made of life and when that life ended, it was time to draw from the swamp again and make new a new life. Legacy was not in how long a home stood or how far one could go back to trace their ancestors, but in one’s relationship with the Hist. Those that didn’t understand that were fools in Tanan’s eyes.
He was expecting Tah to climb into his hammock and sulk, but no, instead, the youth bent, retrieving a small box he kept under his hammock. He came back and again sat, holding the box, his expression serious.
“This whole year, I save what I can. My share of the hunt, of raids, and I think I have enough to go to the Wassek village, to purchase the wedding band.”
He was dead serious and it was Tanan’s turn to lower his brow bone in scrutiny. “How much do you have?”
“I know more than enough gold, but the amethysts are a challenge to find. I have one, from the raid in the summer, but it’s very pale, not worth my Aseis, they need to be much better.”
“Show me.” Tanan prodded and Tah opened the box. That immediately got Wih up from her stool next to Tanan’s alchemy table and she peered over her father’s bare shoulder, her hands and chin resting on it, her tail twitching. Tanan darted an cautious eye towards his alchemy and smiled. She had turned the heat source off on her own. Very smart.
“Oh, Tah…” She gasped in awe, her eyes glittering, forgetting all about grains of rice and alchemy for the moment. The two males couldn’t help but snicker at each other. Females and their shiny things…
“See, some other stones to maybe trade for the right ones and to hire a jeweler among the Wassek. I am thinking this through. It’s what I want.” Tah-Tehat emphasized.
The opened box revealed several rather nice garnets, a soul gem, a few rubies, a poor sapphire that had quite a few inclusions, definitely enough gold for the band, several broaches and pieces of jewelry from their last raid, and a single amethyst. Far too pale for a wedding band, but with the amount of other things inside and some savvy trade, Tah-Tehat had more than enough and then possible enough to start construction on his own home.
You are 56, Tanan-Ze, you knew the moment would come. That Tah would want to marry. He shook his head, caught by surprise and at the same time proud that his son was starting to not be so fickle. That he wanted something more out of life and was willing to work hard for it.
“Why not let Ra-Sakka see this from the beginning?” Tanan asked, pointing a clawed finger towards the box
Tah squirmed a little in his stool, rubbing the back of his muscled neck. “Maybe to see first if he says ‘yes’?"
“Well, not saying ‘no’ is something from Ra-Sakka.” Tanan offered to the frustrated youth. “So, prove yourself and show him this.”
“I will.” Tah nodded, closing the box and Tanan could see that he was reassured. Tah then curled his lip upwards, his nostrils expanding, his tongue flicking outwards. Smells good, doesn’t it? “That smells wonderful. Mother cooked already?”
It was Tanan’s turn to deflate, while Tah returned the box to its position under his hammock. “She is at the nursery. I did the cooking.” Both of his children looked at him with a measure of encroaching dread and he was shocked. “What?” He raised his shoulders.
“Is it going to have the mushrooms again this time, father?” Wih asked with a sigh, a polite distaste very clear in her tone. “The all blue and glowing ones?”
Tah swallowed. “With still moving weevils.” Wih shut her eyes tight and shuddered.
“They are supposed to be cooked that way! Too much and they lose their nutrients.” Tanan defended himself. He pointed, shaking his finger at the two. “And I will have you know, those mushroom are a delicacy.” He rose from his stool with a sound huff to see to their meal.
Tah gave his sister a sidelong glance and whispered in her ear hole. “Not in this village…” She put her hand to her mouth and giggled and Tanan endured a father’s humiliation. He cooked just as well as Shei did, he did. He just prefered to experiment. Well, by Seth, they will be begging for this one again, Tanan thought. He had outdone himself this time. The nightshade would be a bit bitter, but he knew what he was doing.
“Just make yourself useful, Tah, and slice some fresh bergamot for me.” He grumbled, pointing at the waiting bowl of fruit while he stirred the sauce. ‘“Not too thick, like last time.” His eyes found Wih. “And you, little Black-Tongue, go set the places--”
There was a flash of lightning and then all three Saxheel felt the thud of something heavy landing upon the roof.
“What upon the Hist?” Tah looked up from his slicing with a frown, knife in hand.
They froze when they heard the rumbling of breathing and growls over the rain. Substantial footfalls began moving on their roof, sending bits of dried grass and mud to the floor. Tah and Tanan faced each other and then the older tracker moved his eyes towards their spears by the door. Tah was closer and Tanan was ready to grab Wih, so he could move her out of the way. His son nodded and silently put down the knife to begin slowly shifting position.
Another growl and Wih was now trembling like a leaf, her crest fully raised in distress, her hand clutching one of their earthenware cups. And he smelled it then, her fear. Literally, the distinct scent released from glands in the base of all Saxheel tails, further communicating her alarm, and he was sure it traveled beyond their home to the sensitive noses of their tribe and to the creature. More agitated steps on their roof let him know that his assumption was correct and Wih almost sobbed when one of the support beams to their roof cracked. How heavy is this thing? Kajthix? No, Tanan, you are hearing footfalls. All he really knew was that there was something very large on the roof of his home and his children were with him.
Tah was about halfway to their spears, moving deliberately and composed, careful to mask his own smell. He even led with the heels of his feet to prevent his clawed toes from making any noise on the floor.
Tanan could hear the yelling outside their hut, splashing, surprise, alarm, footsteps. They were already coming, answering the silent chemical call of a Tum-Taleel in grave danger.
A massive head with blazing yellow eyes suddenly shoved through the hole in their roof and Wih released a high-pitched scream that competed with the deafening roar that came from the toothed maw above. Tanan didn’t even think, he immediately poured all the bloodwine into the hearth, causing the flames from the cooking fire to rapidly surge upwards, making him recoil to avoid being scorched. There was a roar of pain, the stink of singed flesh, and the head darted swiftly away from the hole, straw bits in its wake.
Making noise no longer mattered, so Tah quickly closed the distance to their spears and Tanan reached for Wih, dragging her to him while he caught the spear Tah tossed at him with his other hand.
Their roof caught on fire, but the swamp would take care of it. The creature roared loudly and his child kept screaming in terror. Another support beam split as the great weight on their roof shifted and Tanan could only guess from the movement, from the shower of debris that just fell to the floor of their hut that something immensely powerful had just used its legs to vault away from his roof. He heard water splash loudly outside and Wih practically climbed on him. And he didn’t care. He would carry her. He could only think on one thing. Get them out.
Tanan stumbled, nearly dropping Wih, when something with great force struck one of their hut’s stilts, making the dwelling buckle. It was going to fall. The Saxheel heard the crack of wood as the fire spread slowly, smoking heavily from the rain. His vials fell from the table, shattering and spilling their contents to the floor. There were the sounds of heavier splashing on an intercept course with whatever was now under his home. He was nearly at the door with Wih, while Tah provided cover, holding his spear at ready. He flared is nostrils, picking up a distinct musk odor. Help was on the way.
A Saxheel’s bellow rang through the rain and Tanan’s feathers stood on end, more out of that primal instinct in being near something so closely tied to the Hist than out of fear.
Thundering footsteps. A massive weapon swung.
A howl of pain from a large animal Tanan didn’t recognize.
Another warning bellow.
Fast running. Away from his house.
“Open the door, Tah!” He growled, reacting quickly to their change in fortune. “Now!”
The youth pushed hard, forcing the door through its damaged frame, and the three fled, descending the wooden steps, their hut continuing to buckle and strain. There was a flash of terrible sadness in Tah’s eyes when he looked back one last time that Tanan understood, but he grabbed his son by the shoulder, urging him forward. We will search the debris later, my son. Wih only sobbed. “Shh...” He soothed, holding her close. And then he stopped, both of them did.
Chakuk stood in the rain in front of their burning house, giant, many-horned and muscled, breathing heavily, his eyes two points of orange fire through his heavily ridged brow. The striped Behemoth’s malachite bladed club was stained with fresh red blood, his spiked tail still twitching with aggression, his musk almost overpowering with its potency.
“Chakuk make thing run.” He rumbled, nodding, and Tanan slowly nodded back, keenly aware of the great manifest of the Hist’s power before him.
“Xuth! The nursery!”
“Protect the Hatchlings!”
“Secure the Hist!”
More shouts in the night and all of them turned their attention towards the central complex that surrounded their great Hist. The nursery.
Shei… And Tanan felt the rage build in him, unconsciously releasing his own musk, feeling the oily substance ooze from the base of his tail, staining his tilmahtli.
“Chakuk crush!” Chakuk started to charge towards the nursery and Tanan bravely followed, along with Tah. He was carrying a sobbing Wih, who clung to him like a vine clings stubbornly to the trunk of a tree. They were both slick from the rain and her feathers stuck to her head, flattened in total fear. She could not stop trembling. Did she see it? Did she see what lunged at them in their home? Put her down, dammit, she’s scared to death, and you need to find Shei, but he didn’t want to leave her, so he just ran.
The Tum-Taleel were already mobilizing, the glow of their Hist’s large bioluminescent scarlet blossoms and the glow of the two moons peeking from the trees creating a surreal backdrop for their latest struggle. A collective force. Male, female, it didn’t matter, clad in their mismatched armors of mostly wood and bone or pieces stolen from other tribes. All fought to defend the nursery and the Hist, their bodies of one mind, of one purpose. They were driving something huge away the heart of their village with fire, spear, bow, club, and magicks. It roared and he caught a glimpse of it it in the light of their torch fires, just as it recoiled from an arrow striking its shoulder. His eyes widened.
It was as large as Chakuk, covered in fur, possibly striped in pattern, but Tanan could not make out such details in the darkness, not from that distance. It possessed felinoid features, but at the same time, it didn’t move like a feline. It tore the shaft of the arrow clean off its shoulder, screamed at the fire and broke away from the growing Saxheel defense, making for the guar pens, slashing at anything in its path with claws much longer than Chakuk’s. Carts, boxes flew high in the air, Saxheel ran to avoid its path, all in a display of violence that fascinated Tanan as much as it frightened him. Never such an animal…
The guar were squealing, scrambling to escape their pens while the creature grabbed one that was too close, tearing it in half like it was a loaf of bread.
“Tanan!” He heard his name and whipped his head around to look behind. There in the chaos, was his Shei. Her eyes widened as she rushed towards him, nearly collapsing against him out of relief. And he could not help himself, because he had thought the worse, so with a strangled cry, Tanan bent her neck back, rubbing his throat with hers. Their scents intermingled, both their throats vibrating in a soothing rumble of solace. It was perhaps a little indecent considering the disorder around them, but his heart needed the affirmation and, it seemed, so did Shei’s
“Mama!” Wih cried, breaking their moment, and they let their little swamp vine pass from father to mother. Shei held her tightly, saying words of comfort only a mother could provide, releasing the smell that every child instinctively relaxes to.
“Our home, the fire, the creature on our roof. From the trees. From the trees… So far from you…” She gasped, struggling to even speak, her blue eyes wide, shaking her head in utter disbelief. “I couldn’t, our home. Couldn’t reach… I want to reach you, but i couldn’t...” Shei searched Tanan’s face for the answer to her question. “How?” She stammered.
Tanan felt his emotion build because they survived for the stupidest thing really. A reflex reaction. He kept himself as calm as he could and opted for his normal outlet when feelings became too raw. Wit and humor. “We’re out of bloodwine.”
She raised her brow like he was perhaps a fool. “What?”
“Well, in case you are unaware, it makes the hearth fire surge quite a bit, all the way up to the roof.” Tanan managed, feeling his emotion build as he brought his wife towards him in a tight embrace. “So dinner is burning, as is our house.”
She understood him very well because she flashed her teeth in a grin. “Good, I hate Violet Coprinus.” He laughed at her honesty, though he knew that she knew what he had done.
Tanan pulled away from her, shaking his head. “No, wife, frog's legs in a Bloodwine reduction, with slices of fresh Bergamot and a touch of nightshade.” He continued, telling her just what they had lost tonight.
“Xuth.” She cursed wearily, letting her cheek find his shoulder. “I love bergamot.”
“I know.” And he couldn’t resist. “Language, Shei.”
“Thank you.” she moaned against his neck, sighing. “Thank you for burning our dinner.”
They both turned at the sound of Chakuk’s mighty roar, saw the shallow swamp water splash as he slammed his arms to the ground. Tah was close by, his jaw open in awe and even Wih now looked on from the security of her mother’s arms. The other animal was thrown off balance by the impact of Chakuk’s seismic blow, but quickly recovered, to Tanan’s amazement, roaring once more as it made a mad dash towards the trees, climbing one straight up before disappearing into the darkness of the dense swamps.
“By the Hist.” He gasped. It just climbed that tree like it was nothing. That’s how it came to his house. From the trees, that’s what Shei kept repeating. His house stood right next to a tree.
Tum-Taleel warriors aggressively gave chase and Tah readied his spear, starting to sprint to follow them in their pursuit, only to stop in his tracks when the Pakseech lowered his great bow with malachite spkes. “No!” He cried, raising his hand in the air to stop them. “Stop. Mota, stop, I command!” They immediately heeded his word, but Chakuk released a final bellowed roar into the night, snorting and kicking at the ground in frustration that he could not continue.
“Why?” Ra-Sakka’s imposing form emerged from a backdrop of Hist blossoms which made his bronze scales glisten. His club was ready and the Hist blossoms’ bioluminescence silhouetted the many graduated spikes on his head, giving him an even more intimidating air. “Look at all this damage!” He argued, pointing with his club to the torn up carcases of guar littering their pens, the tip of his tail moving side to side quickly in clear displeasure. “Chakuk draws blood. And if it bleeds…” His silver eyes narrowed, the pupils hard slits. “We can kill it.”
“My arrows have poison, Ra!” The Pakseech countered, disliking the lack of respect. That got Tanan’s attention and he broke from his wife and Wih to step forward.
“What kind?” He asked in his quiet way.
“Your strongest.” The Pakseech seethed between gritted teeth, his eyes boring into the swamps where the creature fled.
“Maybe you miss, Raj-Pakseech.” Ra-Sakka challenged with a sneer.
The Pakseech tilted his tri-horned head - one of which was distinctly broken - to the side and flashed his sharp teeth at the larger Saxheel. “My aim is always true, Ra-Sakka.”
“My strongest?” Tanan echoed, raising his brow, and steering the conversation back to the important matter at hand, which was certainly not how Ra-Sakka felt the Pakseech was handling his role. Damn Tum-Taleel. Like a wasp’s nest.
“Yes, your strongest, Raj.” The Pakseech acknowledged, his look grave. “Which means you know now what concerns me. The beast doesn’t fall.”
“My poisons never fail this tribe.” Tanan explained, choosing his words carefully. “My strongest brings down wamasu, even the kajthix that lurk in the waters of the interior. Quickly, leaving us free to hunt more.” He bent his head in thought, running a hand over his feathers. “It must be something about this creature.” He speculated, his eyes returning to the Pakseech. “Something different.”
A sudden crash turned all eyes to Tanan’s home, now fallen, returning back to the swamp. He saw a stack of smoke punctuated with small explosions from what he knew were his preserved samples. Tah looked absolutely crushed and Tanan understood it as the pain of youth. All his hard labor, just taken by the swamp, without mercy, for that is all the young see. What is directly in front of them. But the old see more, that there was still hope that the gems and gold could survive. If others didn’t try to take them first. It was sometimes the way of the Tum-Taleel, to simply take.
“I know.” The Pakseech answered, walking towards Tanan and his family. “Which is why I wish counsel on the matter.” He then raised his voice, for all Saxheel to hear. “The Raj and Mota of of the Tum-Taleel shall meet and discuss this. After we help Raj Tanan-Ze rebuild his home.” His blue eye became like ice when they fell on Ra-Sakka. "All of us."
The great mota acknowledged the Pakseech's words with a careful nod. "Of course."
The Pakseech’s gaze fell on Tanan’s smouldering house and his features softened, his blue eyes melting as he placed a clawed hand on Wih’s soaked feathers. She sighed at his touch, nearly spent from being so frightened. He faced his sister and nodded. “You are welcome in my home tonight, Tanan-Ze, Shei-Ja.”
Shei put a hand on her brother’s forearm. “Thank you, Pakseech.”
“Anything for you, sister, and this little Black-Tongue of yours.” He whispered affectionately, giving Wih’s feathers another brief caress with his strong draw hand, though Tanan knew he meant it just much as a joke against him. I cannot help being short, Sar-Keer, and furthermore, I remember when you broke your horn and if I recall it was I, Tanan-Ze, the little Kota-Vimleel, who saved you. The Pakseech then turned to address the crowd of Saxheel still reeling from the attack on their village, adopting his more formal air and the weight of responsibility.
“A few bloodied guar and a burning home is nothing to the Tum-Taleel,” he began, his eyes on Ra-Sakka, “so long as the Hist tree blooms and our eggs hatch, we endure. We will always capture more guar and we will always take life from the swamp and rebuild. And we will defeat this new threat, this, your Pakseech swears to you, by Seth and by the sap that flows in all of us.”
First, special thanks to Shadow Host (Karver) and Teineeva for being my sounding boards when I decided to take Äelberon of Dusk to the land of the Saxheel. They both helped me filter all the information I had read when researching for this project so I could present it in a narrative. They answered my many questions and I’m very grateful to be really taking you to Argonia for this story through their help. A special nod to Teineeva who let me borrow his character Tanan-Ze for this story. You can find his profile here.
https://tamrielvault.com/groups/topic/view/group_id/7/topic_id/7662
Glossary of terms and information
Featured Tribes
Tum-Taleel - Root House people, one of the mirkmire tribes, known for their belligerent behavior. They use intimidation, often wearing simply loincloths and war-paint and brandishing heavy clubs in front of enemies. They also frequently wear and carry mismatched weapons, armor, and jewelry, spoils from their raids.
Wassek-Haleel - Bright Throat People, a gregarious, colorful tribe of artisans and the tribe that is most likely to have encounters with outsiders. Known for their music and construction of xeech’kis, seed dolls.
Kota-Vimheel - Black Tongue People, a soft-spoken tribe known for their deep knowledge of the creatures and plants of the swamps, which they channel into great alchemy skills and the manipulation of the animals around them. In fact, they frequently mark their territory with empty potion bottles, letting trespassers know precisely who they are dealing with.
For more information on the tribes of Mirkmire see this article in Tamriel Vault by Teineeva.
Tribes of the Saxheel
Featured Creatures
Wamasu - A large reptilian creature, similar in look to prehistoric lizards. It has sharp claws, powerful jaws and a devastating lightning attack, sort of like an electric eel. A dangerous animal of the swamps.
Kajthix - Literally “giant snakes”. A massive snake of the swamps and a formidable predator.
Behemoth - A Saxheel that has been mutated by the Hist, for the lack of a better word, or perhaps even blessed, turning it into a creature much larger and far more powerful than a typical Saxheel. They are capable of creating seismic blasts from a slam of their powerful arms and can speak in simple sentences. Remnants of these great warriors who stormed Oblivion during the Crisis, those remaining may now serve as guards in large cities and occasionally some can be found among the more isolated tribes.
Jel
Saxheel - People, specifically the Argonian people
Pakseech - clan chair, patriarch, leader, wise father concerned with the welfare of the whole family or tribe.
Xuth - An expletive. Probably can be translated to shit or fuck.
Raj - Elder
Mota - Hunter
Thtithik - Egg mother
A note on Jel
Jel is a language without a sense of time. To reflect that in this story, the dialogue of the Saxheel in this story has been written in only tenses that do not reflect the past. Thought and narrative, I can’t help it, I need to convey tense, but dialogue was different, so I used mostly present tense and some minor future tense, and altogether avoided past tense even though some of their dialogue clearly reflects past events. It’s a quirk to their dialogue that I hope you enjoy.
Borrowed terminology
Because Bethesda seems to draw heavily from Aztec and Mayan culture when creating the culture of the Saxheel, I thought to supplement concepts that I couldn’t find in Jel with items from the Aztec language.
Tilmahtli - a cloak or cape, usually tied or pinned at one shoulder and worm over a loincloth
Thank you for reading!
Chapter 2 * Path of the Aprax * Chapter 4
Comments
Smell just made sense to me. I studied biology for three ... more