From: "Fenix" <fenixreader@yahoo.com> Subject: [PW!] Dragonsong: Prologue, Part II (look, cack fiction! read!) Date: Friday, March 19, 2004 8:49 PM Dragonsong: Prologue. Part II. --- While the blood of Tengrud, Martyr of Barangar All-Father was still fresh upon the earth, another folk was to endure an enduring change, one that would change the destiny of those living and those yet born. Far away, upon the same continent of the fabled green lands of Barangar's dreams, a waxing moon threw its light upon the hill at Avarim. It gave sight to a peculiar occurrence, one unlike any other in the long and bloody history of the world. There, amongst the yellow fields of the Saffarine Plains, a lone figure dwelt sitting on a rock. His name was Freidoun, and he counted among his people the Mentū. Of all the Pokémon of Saffar, those that crawled and those that took residence amongst the clouds, they possessed the mightiest of intellects. Their Gods, who in myth dwelt upon the faraway, insurmountable peak of Caladane, blessed them not with swiftness of wing or sharpness of claw, but with minds that could carve out a future wherever they went. And so the Mentū were a nomad folk, who did not dwell anywhere with any permanence, but carried their homes upon their backs. Freidoun himself had a kral which he would roll up at night and re-build again with the coming of the sun. Alone among his people did he wish for a different fate. They bore faces reminiscent of foxes, with thick yellow fur; but they walked upright, and did not rely on their fists to hunt, but their minds. For generations, Pokémon of the Saffar would look warily upon the waving of the tall grass, fearing of Mentū who might be stalking behind its obscuring strands -- bows in hand, furs painted in blue and black and green. The only Mentū who had a sedentary home for themselves were mountain aesthetics, those who gave respect to the Four Gods while hidden away from the sun and wind. And it was not alone did Freidoun desire to live. And so did the Patrus of the Mentū sit upon the hill of Avarim, looking upon the brightness of the moon, thinking. His folk had dwindled greatly, facing another year where their traditional lands had failed to feed them. A fear grew deep within Freidoun's soul, of a time where the lands of their forefathers would lie fallow. He began to tax his mind, opening himself to the voices of the Four Gods. He said unto the heavens: "Amanene, Shofane, Dariush, Ardeshir. It is your attention that I beg. I implore you to look upon my folk with favor, and gift us with the knowledge that we need to survive. I beg, I implore." There was a silence, and for a moment Freidoun felt utterly abandoned in the vastness of the night. But then a light broke the haze of the night, stunning his senses. The waxing moon had become full, but brighter than any that the Patrus had ever witnessed. The whole hill of Avarim was lit, as if afire. Freidoun sank to his knees, and touched his head to the earth. The oral traditions of the Mentū maintain that the Four thus spoke to Freidoun in tandem: "We have heard your prayer, Freidoun of the Mentū, Patrus to the nomads of the Saffar. We realize your plight, and We will aid you. Look to the north. There, you will come upon a valley unspoiled by the trials withering your lands. When you have visited upon this place, which We have named Kourosh, there you must found a city. Its name shall be Esfandiar, rich in plenty and splendor. Freidoun, you and your folk shall dwell there, so long as you keep Our favor and Our worship. We have thus spoken." And so the light dimmed, and Freidoun was left once more in shadow. But in truth, he was not in darkness; he was basking in the favor of the Four. Freidoun decided then that he must assemble all his folk immediately to build the Blessed Citadel, whose plans were burned into his consciousness. And so he called them, and immediately the whole nomad folk of the Mentū was assembled at Holy Avarim, a place that would be a site of pilgrimage for those Mentū yet unborn. However, he had not opened his mouth to assemble them. Freidoun was thus blessed by the Four, who vested Their power and Their favor into the minds of every Mentū. Freidoun, his folk, and all their descendants inherited the Blessing of the Four -- giving them first Speech Without Speaking, and later greater powers to those who reached the upper echelons of embracing the Four. Freidoun's sons, the high lords of Kourosh and rulers of the cliff Citadel of Esfandiar, would wield their minds like swords. In times to come Mentū decorum that voiced speaking was necessary for anyone in close radius or of higher status, and great dishonor would be heaped upon a lesser addressed a greater using the Speech Without Speaking. So it would be. And so Freidoun said unto them, with the voice provided by his mind: "The Four have to come to me in the night, and bore me a boon beyond price. Here, as I speak to you, is proof of that gift. They have asked me to build them a city in faraway Kouroush. Yes, we who have dwelled homeless among the Saffarine fields will have a city, a home. But this future will not be realized if you, my folk, will not assent and go with me. I ask that you do, for this is the will of Amanene, Shofane, Dariush, and Ardeshir, the Four Gods which breathed never-ending life into the folk of the world." With silent assent, a thousand fists were thrust high into the air. In the light of a blinding moon, a people had thus been born. They rolled their krals onto their backs, bore their young on their chests, and prepared to cross the fields of Saffar to reach promised Kourosh. There, they would carve a city from the cliffs, the Esfandiar Citadel. The bulwark of freedom for the Mentū, the personification of the Four upon the world. Upon the four hills that ringed the Esfandiar Citadel, Freidoun and his folk raised great colossuses of stone. They were made in the likeness of the Four -- Amanene Matron, Shofane Warder, Dariush Councillor, and Ardeshir Executor. The influence of Esfandiar would stretch far and far throughout Saffar, their culture blossoming in the wake of the First Age. In times to come the wisest and most powerful of the Mentū would be called "Alakazam" in the tongues of men. Also, these same men, so fond of borrowing from cultures not their own, would name the land "Saffron," its root stolen from the lips of Mentū. -- End Part II