The Brotherhood of the Purple Gourd

The legendary founder of the Brotherhood of the Purple Gourd by most accounts was Tzon Tzenⁱ, an deserter of the armies of the Merchant Kings (also referred to in some texts as the River Kings)ⁱⁱ. According to legend he left the army during the establishing of the Merchant King's first dynasty during their era of initial expansion. Crossing an expanse of the Nelgian Forest he ended up in the city of Azdayon.

Azdayon at that time was an outpost of the fallen Barian Empire.ⁱⁱⁱ It served as the repository of the empire's learning. The great university was in Azdayon as well as the great library. When the empire fell after the nights of red rain Azadayon became cut off from the various other portions of the empire. Once a center of learning it turned inward. The university doors closed and the books in the library grew dusty. The people of Azdayon had volumes of knowledge at their fingertips yet without the direction of the empire they fell prey to cult of the hour, secret societies and zealous religions. This was the city that Tzon Tzen found his way into.

At this point the records become murky. Some declare that Tzon Tzen mined the libraries, generating a grand unification of dissimilar philosophies.^iv Some say that he joined several secret societies at the same time, rising in their ranks, playing them against one another and merging the survivors into a new society.^v Still others say that his mind burned with ecstasy after tantric sexual acupressure with the tantric mistress Jaylen and he stumbled into the town square declaring his new doctrine.^vi What is known is that 22 men gathered around Tzon Tzen and formed thee Brotherhood of the Purple Gourd.^vii It is known that the Brotherhood persisted in Azdayon at least until the fall of Azdayon under the 3^rd dynasty of the Merchant Kings. At this point the records become sketchy again. Some accounts state that the Brotherhood became an underground invisible society in the Azdayon under the occupation by the Merchant King vassals. Other records state that the Brotherhood set up an 'invisible town' in the caves of Sz'min. Most accounts declare that the Brotherhood set up centers of learning in the outpost coastal cities of the fallen Barian Empire near the rim of the Inner Sea. What is known is that after the age of Reconstruction the Brotherhood of the Purple Gourd became a prominent footnote in history in terms of being involved in the politics of the day.^viii

Doctrine of the Brotherhood of the Purple Gourd

While the specific curriculum of the Brotherhood is closed to non-initiates it is known that they promote the doctrine of Al-Insan Al-Kamil or the perfect man. Each brother is to be an embodiment of the perfection of Man himself. To this end the brothers dedicate themselves to a doctrine designed to produce the most from human potential that involves a special diet, physical exercises (yoga, martial arts, sun gazing), meditation, mind expansion exercises (memory, computation, information processing, etc), communication (calligraphy, poetry, peacemaking/diplomacy, oratorical training), healing and other disciplines.^ix

iA minority of scholars assert that Tzon Tzen is a fictional founder created by the Brotherhood to embody their principals. It would seem that this theory is countered by the presence of Tzon Tzen's name in non Brotherhood literature of the time yet the theory still has its adherents.

iiFor a more thorough account of the six Merchant King Dynasties refer to Elion Ta's “From River to Rulership: The Six Dynasties of the Merchant Kings”.

iiiFor an account of the Barian Empire refer to Chel Makht's “The Complete Barian Empire” volumes I-IV

ivThe scientifical and technological advancements of the Barian Empire are well confirmed in Cnt Scheln's “The Light of an Empire: Progress and Progression in the Barian Empire). Though Azdayon was the center storehouse of this knowledge they were not the main implementors. This theory is put forth as to why it declined in the years after the fall of the Barian Empire. Ironically many of the texts thought to have been preserved in Azdayon were destroyed with the advent of the Merchant Kings. Historians have thus taken to examining various philosophies extant in the greater historical Barian Empire to see what philosophies may have been preserved in Azdayon during the time of Tzon Tzen.

vIn this theory the secret societies usually cited are the Children of the Shattered Wind, Conclave of the Burning Heart, The Crimson Root, Infinite Regression, and the 9^th Octave.

viThis is one of the most disputed theories. Though it has been recorded that the Daughter's of Red Tide traveled throughout that region during the time of the Merchant King's 1^st dynasty. The Daughter's of the Red Tide presented themselves as a troupe of dancing women yet in reality they were a tantric society that specialized in esoteric tantric practices such as chakra reprogramming, manipulating the chi for ecstasy, glyph asanas, and other practices.

viiThe first 22 initiates are known as the Essential Lights of Purpose.

viiiFor an in depth look at the history of the Brotherhood in the context of world events refer to Vlkshen's “The Purple Gourd: From seed to idea to bounty”

ixFor an outsider's view of philosophy of the Brother refer to Nishan al Shen's “What's Inside the Gourd”.

Part V: Manali with Ja'shem

The mugs were brimming with fresh Manali. Purple broth overflowing. Ja'shem sat squarely accross from Jhlem. His visage was chiseled. His skin clung tight to his bones as if to provide extra protection. It was the tension of years of battles. Vikan played with his mother near a window in the tavern while Brighteyes, the cooks 5 year old daughter barreled across the floor to joint the festivities. Spice and fruit simmered through the air.

"On your doorstep?"

"Yes Ja'shem."

"The baku died on your doorstep?"

"Should I speak slower or in Farkanese..yes, yes, yes." Jhlem's impatience was aparent. He brooded and sulked.

"And you had already petitioned your dreams back?"

Jhlem just stared at Ja'shem.

"Okay Jhlem..then what is the matter?!"

"What?"

"I don't see the Daybreaker before me yet I know that the Daybreaker was fueled and inspired by his dreams even if he was haunted by his nightmares. You led armies Jhlem! You sully yourself with mediocrity!"

Jhlem caught Dylini and the children looking in their direction due to the raising of Ja'shem's voice and felt ashamed. And the sarek finch chirping in the window annoyed him more than usual.

"Ja'shem..I don't know why my heart's blood isn't afire. It's as though I watch my dreams from a distance. Yet I would be foolish to ignore the baku's words."

"First speak to your dasha. You haven't even seen her lately have you? I'll take your silence as confirmation. Jhlem, you know that if you need a brother in arms I stand with you like at the battle of Narib yet go, reclaim your weapons, yet even before that reclaim yourself first. We're going north to visit the father of Dylini. If you need of me send word."

Ja'shem embraced Jhlem like the brother he was. As Ja'shem and his family departed Jhlem sipped on the dregs of his manali while remembering the family he once had, in part knowing why his footing was now so unsure.

Part IV: The Family of Ja'shem

Everyone converged at the center of S'rn in the morning hours before work, school and commerce. The center oval fountain with a representation of the Earth mother Rhy made of the native blue onyx usually was the focal point of activity. Children ran with journals tied in ram hide trailing behind them on the ground kicking up dust. They were trying to be on time for their lessons at Scholar's grove where several circles of students sat at different scholars' feet under date and orange trees. Merchants pulled carts of their goods to main street while professional barterers from small companies scanned the carts in motion for that one rare item that they would claim. Small ball of dust almost attached their selves to people's feet, flags whipped against the wind, people moved together almost seamlessly. That is, until a section of the crowd started to peel away. Jhlen squinted his eyes to try to discern what the abnormality was. Within the mass of people the pommel of an ebony daiklavei could be seen. Jhlen panicked for a moment. Who would bring bloodshed to S'rn. His hands dripped sweat and he realized that he had put away his tools of war long ago. He was weaponless. When the owner of the daiklave emerged from the crowd with that smirk on his face Jhlen cursed himself for loosing track of the count of days. Before he could yell out a salutation a young child of 7 summers bolted from that warrior's side.

"Uncle Jhlen!" His face covered in chocolate smudges, practically tripping over his own feet to reach him.

"Vikan. Come here you!" Vikan leaped in Jhlen's arms without missing a step. "You are turning into the spitting image of your father."

"And mother." When her voice hit the air Jhlen looked up to see a comely woman standing slightly to the left of the owner of the daiklave, Ja'Shem.

"So Ja'Shem, it appears you made good on your oath to bring the heavens to earth. Peace reina, I am Jhlem Seeraidiant."

"He of seven wounds, the Daybreaker. Ja'shem speaks of you often, carefully and with slight reverance. I am Dylini."

"No Jhlen, stop it. Don't even try to drop one of your poetical masterpieces on her. Though my tongue isn't as agave coated as your's I think my burps, salty speech and flair for the obvious has won her heart." Ja'shem's daiklave's handle caught glares and stares from the morning folk.

"People carry small weapons here Ja'shem. They have locked the epic weapons of war away from daily life. They aren't used to seeing the likes of your daiklave Quietus."

"That saved your ass during the battle of Narib!"


Jhlem opened his mouth to counter Ja'shem's outburst when Dylini spoke up.

"Yes, yes, we know the story mi rein. The war rhinoceros of Jhlem fell to a lotus blossom bomb from the approaching army throwing Jhelm to the ground. Quietus struck down that war elephant as it foot barreled down on Jhlem. It's shadow obscuring the day sky. The air screamed at the battle of Narib as Quietus sliced through the air drinking deep into that war beast's leg." You can tell that Dylini was glazing it slightly with sarcasm yet with enough deference to keep what couldn've been a two hour story to a telling of a few seconds.


Vikan tugged at Jhlen's locs. For a moment he thought he was holding Is'slom in his arms. The image faded away like morning fog. Deep breathing, shut the eye ducts. If going west he knew he would see Is'slom soon.


"Well stop standing there zoning out Jhlem. The family is hungry and I am in the mood for shots of Shou Wu Chih ii with a mug of Manali.iii"



i Elaborately decorated and with blades over four feet long and six or more inches wide, daiklaves are the traditional weapons of the Exalted. Daiklaves are forged from steel alloyed with one of the five magical materials and are far too large to be wielded by mere mortals. However, in the hands of an Exalt, the material of the sword resonates with the character's anima, making the blade light and easy to wield, despite its impressive size. Each daiklave is unique, its shape partly a product of the smith's desire and partly dictated by complex astrological factors. By long tradition, each is also named and treated as an honored companion to the Exalt who wields it.


ii Shou wu chih is sold in glass bottles. It is generally consumed by adding between one and three tablespoons to a cup of hot water, tea, or soup. Shou wu chih is a liquid tonic formula for men and women. It is claimed by the manufacturers that it gently increases the energy level and it tonifies, warms, and invigorates the blood, nourishes the liver and kidneys, and benefits the eyes. It is said that regular use strengthens the bones and tendons and improves sleep. Based on the herb Polygonum Multiflorum (Chinese: He shou wu or fo-ti), it is suitable for long-term use.

iii A raw form of Chica Morada which is prepared with purple corn flour, cloves, cinnamon, quince, pinapple shell and chopped apples. Sunwarmed and then sweetened with agave.

Part III: Burying the baku

Jhlen ushered the baku's body to small glen in the forest before sunrise. Stoically he slit small slivers in the hide of the baku removing organs, some which had no name. He moistened his hands with cool aloe gel and sprinklings of myrrh. His hands worked the mixture into the baku's small inner cavities, around bones, kneaded it into its hide. It was a noble beast and deserved to be laid to rest. Some people hunted baku. They ground up the hide with their tusks into mixed it into caustic powder that when taken offered a heady mashup of the various dreams that the baku had eaten over its lifetime.

Jhlen did not want his dreams shared. The notion of shards of his lifetime leaking from a junkie's glassy eyes haunted him. So many time he had shared those dreams of his own volition. A bridge created to shuttle his dream. Too often the bridge crumpled into dark valleys. Bridges are often dreams he thought. He thought of valleys that smoldered with clippings of her hair, soured words, the grip of his son's finger on his shoulder blade, courting, marriages of the mind, harems.

His beloved. His beloved. His beloved.

He covered the dream eater in dirt. The dirt ate his dreams yet he held the renewed residue of dream paradises and nightmare terrains like static on his skin. The sun gently brushed over the horizon dropping sundrops on the tips of branches. It was at this one still moment that he draped the dew drenched grass with his Cyresean rug. Early morning exercises under the sun; within the sun.

Jhlen's ancestors had worshiped the sun at some points in the past in the form of golden discs covered in glyphs. The wise amongst those ancestors eventually realized that the sun is naught but an extension of their mental and physical landscape. So they developed ways to share the throne of with the sun and draw it into their self for the sun is them. Methods that were lost in time yet eventually renewed by the Brotherhood of the Purple Gourd.

He drank the sun in with his eyes feeling his body fill with warmth; his mind becoming as light as tension melted away. Things became clearer. He took a moment to feel it dance throughout his body. Then he performed sun salutation. To his ancestors it was a prayer to the sun yet even before them it was a way to unlock his body's life force. His body pulsated. His muscles became fluid. Normally Jhlen didn't think like this yet he knew...it was going to be a long day. He took his ceramic bowel out of his back satchel, poured in well water mixing dihe and date sugar until he had pate eating his morning meal underneath the eye of the sun.

Part I: Sitting in the mud

Bakuⁱ

baku
singularly gorgeous
gorge on this

buffet
tahini memories
crunchy chicory ruminations

stout
baku grazing
heady lush pastures

forget
thin regret
aches pain pates

baku
chews old
russet cud visions

eat
lotus berries
smooth into forgetfulness

yet
even with
saturated hollow stare

doeth
weep my
buried third eye

yester-tomorrows
i want
them back here

forcing
well water
from mine eyes

capture
the baku
with enchanting dreams

i
lead him
to the vomitorium

please
forgive me
noble etheric chimera

daymares
nightdreams all
that i have

iBaku (獏 or 貘, Baku^?) are Japanese supernatural beings that devour dreams and nightmares.

And there came a time when the baku died on his doorstep and Jhlen Seeradiant knew that he had to pick up the gun, the throwing knife and the sword again, forgo his sabbatical at the edge of the world and perform deeds of renown under the audience of the stars.


The sky smelled of shallots and spilled beer. Fall's end flooded the air with the cloudmakers of taverns. Robust clouds sticky upon the sky. Jhlen sat outside of the back of a tavern with puddles of grey water collecting near his feet wondering how he ended up in this tiny town on the coast near the great sea, at the edge of the world.

S'rn, one of the furthest known towns to the east. There were the legendary 5 cities beyond the great sea at the edge of the flat earth, yet they were rumors, fables told to children, abstract mental models of philosophers. S'rn was used to measure the eastern end of any reliable map. S'rn where old women read the future through the entrails of sea gulls and the skeletons of dragons are enshrined in temples. S'rn where Jhlen carved broken poetry in the mud with a stub of a twig.

He wanted a epic ending to this couplet. One that not just summarized the poem. One that transformed the poem into something totally different. So Jhlen scribbled, scratch, prodded, and poked the mud seeing if he could draw the final lines up from the wet earth. Nothing transpired except brown spittle on his boots and bulging veins in his temples. He shifted his back so that splinters from the tavern wall didn't prick his back though upon reconsideration he realized that simple wood couldn't penetrate his skin.

Jhlen was the last of the poet warriors who fought at the battle of Narib. Jhlen Seeradiant of the seven wounds whose name was known at each point of the world's compass. Narib was the the battle where the grass drank blood and vultures still visit the fields to gorge on the flesh of ghosts. Brother fought against brother, son slew father, and the women of Narib performed jauhar rather than face the ashen faces of the conquering army.

It was nearing close and the tavern patrons started to filter out. Most of them ignored Jhlen for they knew not who he really was. His dark indigo skin practically blended in with the night anyway. He enjoyed being able to smother himself in his thoughts. And the end to the poem still did not come. The twig broke.

It was getting later by the moment anyway. He figured that he would walk through the twists of the southern street alleys to meditate more on his way to his home. The alleys were now lined with peach trees and tufts of fragrant grass with windows full of shadow puppets from the carnies staying in S'rn during the winter months. The pagentries of the puppets told secret stories that many wanted to forget; bastard sons of messiahs, saints committing murder, incestuous infidelity. Walking the alleys was walking the story. The moon was a comforting mistress along the way.

Yet little did Jhlen know that he would find a baku on his doorstep when he got home.

Intro: What is this?

I played Dungeons and Dragons growing up. I lost my self in worlds inside of worlds. Throughout my childhood I ended up playing practically every type of role playing game there was. My mind became so fertile devouring fantasy, science fiction and comic books. I gestated a 'beautiful mind' in terms of being able to transform my environment suffused with deep meaning and pregnant with symbolism.

As I grew poetry became my tool of expression yet I never stopped devouring those tomes that expanded my view of what was around me.

So what is this?

It's a serial. In the tradition of the old pulp shows of the golden age of radio. It is set in a fantasy world which is coming into existence with each letter that I type on this computer.

It is a psycho-journal. It's how I am relaying certain things that are happening in my life, things that I want to happen, things that I think may happen, things that I thought happened yet didn't happen. It is me making mountains out of mole hills and mole hills out of mountains.

If you know me you may find yourself in my story as it progresses. You may find a character that resembles you yet it ain't really you. Or maybe you may find the you that you want to be.

It's fiction-factual and if anything is a workbook. Yet one thing, it is a story. In fact it may be THE story in terms of mythic archetypes. It's Truth. Enjoy.