Prydaen in Their Own Words (book)
The Prydaen in Their Own Words
-by Warrior Mage Guild Leader Senfrislor
-Transcribed by Master Bard Callamir
The Prydaen
by Warrior Mage Guild Leader Senfrislor
We always knew of you Easterners, you know, but we chose to ignore you. It's not that we were afraid of you. We just didn't like you.
Don't take it personally. The Prydaen frequently don't like their own, much less those outside our race. Life is brief. Why waste it on idiots who do nothing but stand around pouring their thoughts into funny head-jewels and running off to die in strange and creature-ridden places?
Oh, we have our own share of troubles. The lands have never been the same since Lanival went and knocked on Urrem'tier's front door, as our storytellers have reminded us many times. We fight and have fought and sometimes it might have been useful to have those funny head-jewels at our disposal...the recent troubles have certainly taught us this. So like I said, don't take it personally. All cultures have their share of fools. It's just that we always felt yours had a lot more than ours.
Where was I? Oh yes, why we came here. Silly me. You must understand, I get distracted so easily. I like the buttons on your shirt, by the way. That's some very nice carving. Elven, I would guess? Where did you...oh, yes, the story.
Anyway. I imagine it all started fifty years ago. That was when we first noticed it, at least. We didn't think much of it... little rumblings like this are always happening on the plains, and we just fought them off and continued on with our lives. Undead were nothing new...undead Prydaen were. It disturbed us a trifle -- fighting off dear old aunt Lucilor who you left for dead three years ago is a bit of a shock -- but it disturbed the moonskins even more. They're big on family. Pack pack pack. That's all you ever hear from them. Pack this. Pack that. Live for the pack, die for the pack, mrada, mrada, mrada. It gets quite boring after a while.
So we figured something weird was going on...ancestors coming back from the grave isn't exactly normal -- not in this fashion, at least. They didn't seem to have our ancestors' personalities, but they did fight like them. We also noticed that people who had just died were also coming back. It was all very haunting, if I may be allowed to pun.
But it wasn't bad. Not for a while. It took many years for it to get bad. For the most part the undead would fight us only if we got in their way. They all seemed to be heading south, though few thought to follow them -- who would? Those who did never came back. We imagine they were all killed.
We knew it was serious when the entire Hub of Sunfell vanished, then the Hub of Sunmark, then the city of Sungrove. That was bad. Sungrove had the best supply of milk and honey, after all, and we were quite annoyed that the undead armies had wiped the city out. It was after being told this by a fleeing Olvi merchant that me and my little family decided to start sticking together in the clan Hub and burning our bodies, which was now not an uncommon occurrence, I soon found. The other families we met had started doing the same rather than the sky-burials that were tradition. Demrris must have agreed to this, for the idea came from the dreams of all our priests. Never let it be said that the Prydaen follow an impractical god.
The Prydaen form loose communities, we do not form packs like the Rakash but instead stake out land as the clan's and then disperse across that stretch of land. Usually at the center of that land is a small village -- the Hub -- where the priests stay and where the families with little children stay. Normally those who roam do so alone or with a single companion...children are expected to leave at a certain age and acquire their own bit of land and a mate. In winter we come to the village, build or occupy earth lodges, and stay there until the season passes. We do not supplement our diet with vegetables, but instead consume our whole kill, meat, skin, organs, and all. What? Yes, raw. Why? Well, don't look at ME that way. Just because YOU don't like it doesn't make it wrong!
Anyway, we communicate when we cross paths but most of our lives are spent solitarily. Two or three times during the warm season the clan gets together at the Hub and has a week-long festival of some sort that is usually organized by the priests, who always want us to play less and worship more. We humor them with the festivals, which really aren't that bad. And it's a good chance for some of the shyer Prydaens to acquire mates.
The Hubs are usually only tended by priests, expecting or child-raising parents, and older Prydaen. Not many Prydaen can stand staying in one spot for a long period of time, and yes that includes me. But I'm old, and so I'm expected to stay in one spot. Vael is a rare exception...he's a warrior who actually doesn't mind staying in the village. An old, old soul, that one. No doubt returned to us by Demrris just for the purpose of fighting Lyras. He'd make his mother proud.
We were forced to work together when we realized what was going on. Vael's Hub was our staging point for a long time, the nexus where we all gathered. He sent out some of his finest runners to gather to his home as many of the clans as were left. It was one of those couriers who summoned us to him, but most of them never returned. The priests have added their names to the Rolls of the Blessed.
What was it like? Have you ever sat on top of a treeless hill and looked out over the land as the night is falling? That was a bit what it was like. Every day it seemed that the sky stayed overcast longer, that the air became more chill, that something vast and terrible was gathering and closing in on us. There was fear...thick as grass on the plains. And bright points of courage. I would imagine there were some who tried to bribe or side with the darkness. I imagine they were all ruthlessly butchered, as serves them right.
All this coming back from the dead posed another problem. Some of the priests questioned whether the soul of a Prydaen who had come back from the dead could be returned by the Great Old One, or if it was trapped in its own corpse. We had noticed a decreased number of births, and we still don't know the answer. By our beliefs, all souls return and are reborn in our children. But without any souls to return, the number of births has seemed to slowed down. It is somewhat frightening. We can only hope that something will be found to destroy this wave of undead and let loose the souls waiting for rebirth.
We knew things were REALLY bad when the Rakash joined us, then the remaining other races whose cities or settlements had been demolished. It's not that the Rakash and Prydaen don't get along...it's just that we don't really see eye to eye on everything, and so we stay clear of each other. It's not as bad as, say, your Humans and Elven -- who I'm told merrily slaughtered each other over two of theirs getting married. And you think WE'RE odd....
It took much reconnaissance to know that our enemy did in fact have a name. Some of the Humans knew of her, a Warrior Mage with dark powers...a necromancer, they said, and our own eyes perceived her as the only living creature at the center of an army of dead things. They described her as pale and tall, white skinned and black-haired and Human. She had a staff of gold tipped with what the Human Warrior Mages confirmed was a gem called a bloodruby. They also disclosed to us that this staff was the focus of her power, and was likely the means by which she was commanding all the undead.
Vael was the one who came up with the idea of killing her, and it seemed like a good idea. Very obvious. Big army. One leader. Kill leader. No army. Right?
It should have worked. He beats himself over the fact that he didn't think it through enough, and I feel sorry for him sometimes. He feels responsible for so many things, including Sharlir's death. I was with him when we crept into the camp -- do you have any idea what it is like to creep through rank upon rank of dead, smelly corpses that are staring RIGHT AT YOU with only an invisibility spell standing between you and certain, hideous undeath? I don't think you do.
Lyras was alone when we slit her throat. She had become too careless and fell for old tactics. While we snuck up on her, Prydaen and Rakash fighters launched a flash attack on the north flank of her army. The Human Warrior Mages who remained had constructed special poison pills of some magical liquid -- I think they called it naphtha? -- that we had all been fitted with in false teeth...crush the tooth and the liquid ignites inside and immolates the person. The fighters threw vials of the stuff, coated their blessed weapons with it. And in the end, less than a third made it out alive.
Lyras had all of her attention on the fight rather than the shadows creeping up behind her. She was casting spells from a great distance away and laughing. She was LAUGHING as my people died.
It was Vael who grabbed her by the hair and yanked his claws across her throat. And she died...I SAW her die....
But you never get used to seeing someone jump back from the dead, and the moment she sprang to her feet, screaming and cursing us, we thought we were dead. I don't often thank Demrris for magicians, but I did then. The Moon Mages who had been cloaking us in invisibility teleported us back to safety. And things got worse from there.
The undead were fifty miles away -- we could hear them coming clear back at Vael's Hub. Stamping feet, like never ending thunder on the horizon. As many of us as could ran for the hills. Half of the remaining Hub ignored Vael's orders and ran west. The other half followed him east. We don't know what happened to our brethren that went west. We pray they live, but we know what is more likely the truth.
We couldn't run forever, and the fact that the undead didn't need to rest caused many of our elders to fall dead in their tracks. We doused their bodies with naphtha, sang the Wheel Song en masse, but soon we ran out of naphtha, and then the little ones began to die. Do you know what it is like to have to burn the body of your own daughter? So many Prydaen and Rakash died on the inside, that day. So many small children forever scarred by the memories of their siblings and grandparents melting before their eyes.
We came to the ruins of Journalai and Vael called a halt there. He and the mages had been planning something along with the priests, and exhausted as they were, they planned to go through with it. I was so surprised when Vael called me over and had me join them. I guess I had always known I had the ability to sense the elemental magic beneath my toes, but I never thought to use that. It was like breathing. It was just something I'd always done. Nothing extraordinary, right?
There was a line of us stretching a mile wide, all holding hands. Sharlir was there at the end, and Vael at the other. And I in the middle. How very strange. The priests of the Rakash began chanting, then my people's priests, and then all the priests of the other races, what few of them remained. And all around me I felt like lightning was building, getting ready to strike. It obliterated my ability to focus on anything, though I was told I needed to try and perceive the little runnels of power underneath me as hard as possible, and I did. But I couldn't focus my vision or hear much, though I think I heard it when Sharlir screamed.
Old tactics, you see. Lyras had learned from us, she'd sent some of her fastest undead ahead of her and they dragged Sharlir away and killed her. But Sharlir was all they got...our blood sacrifice, I guess, the cost for the Great Barrier.
It came out of the ground and sky at once, meeting up in the middle somewhere. Some priest once told me about the pillars of the sky, and I guess that's a a little what this was like, except that it was a wall. It was gold and glowing for a moment, and then it vanished, leaving only its presence and many completely drained priests and mages. One or two died from sheer exhaustion. I'm sure Methesdred was wishing he had when he saw Sharlir was gone. We heard him howl her name and saw her across the border -- if you could call that her. Methesdred kept throwing himself against the Barrier, trying to get to her. She hadn't had time to bite her tooth, she'd been too busy with the spell. I won't dwell on it. I will only say that she stood and wandered away, still oozing blood from where the undead Rakash had ripped her throat out, and vanished into the forest without looking back.
What the Barrier is, how it came, I don't know. Part magic, part god-wish, Vael says -- even he doesn't know what guided him to do what he did. It works, that is all I can say. It separates us from the undead hordes that would dissolve this land beneath a crashing wave of decay. Methesdred is half a man without his mate and spends as much time longing for death as he does longing for revenge. If we ever figure out what will stop Lyras, we will try to get to her. And he will be the first with his hands around her throat to rip her head off.
For now, the Barrier protects us. Vael believes that it is somehow connected to us. When the casters who helped create the Barrier all die, the Barrier will collapse. I pray this is not true, but obviously my role in life was not meant to be the priest's -- Vael, I fear, is right.
Demrris has judged that I shall be a Warrior Mage. This fire I can handle can sweep away the undead, and return my kin to the arms of Demrris. The Prydaen look to me as one of their leaders, now, which I had already accepted with Silverclaw Hub, but to be responsible for so many? It's very strange. Dealing with the Elves and Eloths and Dwarves is even stranger. The fleeting races are all that used to dwell in the lands I knew. To meet a person who has lived longer than I...who actually knew Lanival once... how strange is that? Very!
Which reminds me. I have work to do. If you wish to see the Barrier, my son can escort you. Sometimes we catch sight of the undead watching us from the other side... near as we can tell, the Barrier stretches from the top of the land to its tip. If Lyras cannot expand to the east, I imagine she has focused her attention on the west. Which is why I said I pray for the life of those who split from us. Or, rather, I pray that they have swift deaths.
That is all. Go bother someone else, Bard.
Transcriber's Notes
As promised, Senfrislor's son took me to the Barrier. As she said, I could catch glimpses of gray figures prowling the borders, shambling things that could have been people... or undead. It was very strange to be with him, for when he touched my hand it was fur, not flesh, that brushed my skin, and when I met his eyes they were like mine save for the slitted pupil. He was much less gruff and assuming than his mother...likely because he has been raised with other races around him, he told me, whereas his mother had known only Prydaen for most of her life. Vael also carries none of the self-confessed arrogance of Senfrislor, and I found I liked him a great deal. I would have enjoyed staying and talking with him for a long time -- he was fascinating, and did not demand I speak to him in Prydaen like Senfrislor did. Unfortunately, he is himself quite a busy man. His wife Seralor is quite modest and gentle.
The Prydaen are a fascinating race. They are around Human height, and move with a liquid grace I've only seen rivaled by the most limber Elves. They have more warriors than mages, and many of them are not used to hard currency, so there are very few traders amongst them. Despite their seemingly casual approach to life, they are very serious about getting work done, and they train their children from a very young age. They are not devout in the way Humans are devout...their gods are simply a part of existence, like the sky and the air.
Their priests are a separate caste in and of themselves, and are much more open to the other races than the other Prydaen. They seem the most placid, and act as teachers. The Prydaen do have a written language, but usually the only ones who learn it are their priests, elders, and leaders. Very few of their priests start out young -- most are retired warriors who have chosen to do something different in their old age.
Speaking of religion -- Demrris is very likely an abstracted form of our Damaris, just as the Rakash god Mrod is likely based on (or the source of?) our god Meraud. Demrris has two additional sides, like ours, but the two sides are not LIKE ours. The "middle" side is a highly abstract god known as Eu (at least that's how I think they spell it...it sounds just like the letter "U") which also happens to be the Prydaen word for nature. Eu is all that is natural...Demrris and the third god, Tenemlor, are the parts of Eu that allows itself to be understood. Tenemlor rules their afterlife -- death so to speak. She isn't even remotely similar to Dergati, and it seems that she and Demrris tend to switch roles back and forth, as I have heard both of them given the same titles (ie, Lord/Lady of the Dead, Lord/Lady of Life). This probably has to do with Eu's inherent fluidity and the Prydaen worshipper in particular. Some envision death as female, some as male. It changes from clan to clan.
I am told that in these strange times some of the Prydaen have grown fond of our gods and adopted them. The other Prydaen range between being disturbed by this to not caring. The majority don't care...if there's one motto the Prydaen live up to, it's that one should live one's life as one sees fit, and to Urrem'tier (or Tenemlor/Demrris, in the Prydaen's case) with what others think.
Additionally, the Prydaen believe in reincarnation, a belief which is not all that uncommon in the Dragon's Realms either -- especially with all the resurrections that priests have been doing of late). The Prydaen have a lovely song for the dead which I will be including with my notes. The story behind the song is that in the golden times, Demrris roamed with his children, watching them and keeping them safe. When he saw that they had grown old enough to tend to themselves, he left them, promising them two things before he left. One was that when they died, they would go to a country on the other side of the sky where Tenemlor ruled and rest with her for a time. The other thing he promised was that they would return again as long as they wished to. The song really illustrates this best...you will have to read it to understand.
Of food...it is very true the Prydaen do not need vegetables to live, and having dinner with a Prydaen can turn out to be a stomach- churning experience. I have seen them consume a whole animal in front of my eyes. It was not pleasant. They know of fire and cooking, they just choose not to do it. They LIKE the taste of fresh meat and blood. The Rakash -- who must live partially out of what they call their "moonskins" -- do cook their food. Another note about the Prydaen's eating habits -- after glutting themselves, they usually have to sleep for an hour or two. But afterwards, they don't have to eat for several days.
On the language -- the Prydaen names are loosely based on words from their tongue. "Senfrislor" means "She Catches Deer Alone", and Vael means simply "Leader". Their names are given to them at birth by the priests and their Moon Mages, who divine them from the stars and confirm them in a ritual. Female names often end in "-lor". Their language must be close to the Rakash, for in the Rakash tongue the female names usually end in "-lir". I wonder if they were once one tribe that split into two? The Rakash and Prydaen refuse to even entertain the thought, but there are many similarities -- and, admittedly, just as many dissimilarities -- between the two races, so it's not inconceivable.
Though Senfrislor didn't let on to it, Vael revealed to me that, like the Rakash, not all the Prydaen dwell on the plains or in the forests. Many of them come from the sandy regions of the northeast portion of the untamed lands, though the Prydaen and Rakash who migrated from there have mostly chosen not to stay here in the Journalai Forest and moved on toward climes more suitable to their liking. The same applies to the snow-, silver- and white-coated Prydaen and Rakash who once lived in the mountains of the unknown lands.
In closing, I found myself wistful when I departed the company of the Prydaen. Upon my return to The Crossing I left a token gift at the altar of Damaris. Perhaps someday, when I cross through Fostra's Gate, that god shall turn me back and lead me to a Prydaen mother who will raise me in a Hub and teach me of hunting, and running, and roaming through the vast world with a hundred lives before me, and a hundred more at my back.
From the Notes of Master Bard Callamir
Ambassador for Lady Silvyrfrost
The Wheel Song
A traditional Prydaen song, sung over the corpse at death.
Demrris told us before he left A promise of a life beyond our deaths The Great Old One must have known That the world is too wide for one life alone So though this soul goes to Tenemlor Soon it shall return to us once more Passing from her blessed home Back to the plains with us it will roam And wander the forests and drink down the wind And sing this song with us again. And when the wheel has turned once more, It will hear this song, as it did before. Hear us, hear us, hurry along, Take your rest, but don't stay long. For leaves fall to ground and nourish the tree The leaves come back, and so shall we!