Daybreaker

Time Line

2010-01-25T13:12:00.000-05:00

This is the timeline of the world of Daybreaker. It will expand as the story develops. I haven't developed the 'calendar' yet so things are just in chronological order without 'dates'.

Fall of the legendary City-State of Nshantla
Founding of the Barian Empire
Legendary founding of the 3 territories Mysan, Klore and Cinarvin
Founding of the Confederacy of Tla'sorian
Fall of the Barian Empire
Dynasties of the Merchant Kings
Post Merchant King dark ages
Post Merchant King era of Light
First P'lonian War
Second P'lonian War
Battle of Narib

X: She: Dasha

2010-01-13T11:21:00.000-05:00

When the worship of the earth mother Rhy fell to the waste side all that was left of her lofty name were small groves where the juniper trees pushed the sky and uchuva berries littered the grounds. Many of her litanies became nursery rhymes while forms of her many titles became names of the young girls in S'rn. Ana'sren, little sapling. N'ila'han, spring faun. Mara, mother of sparrows.

Though her priestess forgot her worship they didn't forget their oath to her. The dashas kept the groves immaculate, keeping their pledges of virginity sealing their bodies. Yet the dashas were not cloistered nuns. Many took the rite of kyshan becoming the celibate wives of soldiers. A man pledged to war was not allowed to start a family in many cities, including S'rn. His duty to death had to be completed before his duty to life was to begin. In that bridge stood the dasha. When he returned from fields of ruptured entrails and rust blood rivers she stood at the gate of the grove to offer her Dan, solider husband, solace. All acts of valor against the oncoming darkness were done in the dasha's name.

And Zahra, dasha to her dan Jhlem, could only wonder at this moment what was milling in his mind.

Jhlem always noticed Zahra. She was his dasha. Her walking into the grove at an early age loving the shade under the juniper tree. Her left hand pierced with needles made of sea shells giving her hand small measured movements found attractive in S'rn. Fingers stopping thoughts in amber. He swore she smelled the baku's last breath upon his face. He poured out the whole story soaking her hair. She so clearly saw his seven wounds scintillating on ethereal horizons.

"They made you a duppy Jhlem."

He knew that Zahra didn't know who 'they' were. Neither did he. The answer was in the West.

Part IX: Candor

2010-01-11T10:29:00.001-05:00

Jhlem broke through the headache fogginess cracking the thin film sealing his eye lids. It took him a moment to realize that he was laying on his stomach. Scanning the room he saw scrolls tumbling of a bookshelf, a small table with a decanter of water and an assortment of herbs. Various porcelain figurines lined the window which he could not make out from this distance. Zahra's quarters.

"Tell me that I'm not naked."

"You're not naked."

"Am I naked?"

"You're naked."

"Zahra! Towel! Towel!"

Zahra's laugh was light and fragrant as she skipped across the room to grab an towel for Jhlen.

"And no cracks about my ass!"

"No cracks....you know I should say something witty right here."

"TOWEL!"

"Calm down. I had to check your etheric body, your astral shell and your meridians. There are minute scars all over them? Vleks. Those things that were chasing you. They're astral mites. They attach theirselves to some people and just nibble right out of their sight. No one usually ever sees them. They just manifest as a person not being able to focus on things. Usually someone like you isn't ever effected by them. Yet now I think that this is the reason why you haven't been able to concentrate this whole time. What is worse is that I think someone actually attached them to you. Vleks NEVER swarm. The only way they swarm is if someone feeds them a mixture of a target's blood and etheric fluid."

"Someone or something is after me."

"Someone or something is after you."

When Zahra repeated the phrase it wasn't mocking. It just emphasized the seriousness of the matter. It was only then that he noticed the slightly chilled breeze coming in the window. He saw the look on his dasha's face as if waiting for him to say something profound. All Jhlem could do was feel tired from the burden of his seven wounds pulling him toward the ground.

Part VIII: At the gates of the garden

2010-01-06T20:17:00.000-05:00

A person's breathing tattletales on them. By watching the rise and fall of their chest, shape of their mouth, rhythm, and shape of their diaphragm a person with keen sight can tell if they are in love, afflicted with asthma, telling a lie...or if their life force is being assaulted by extra-planar vermin.

"Vleks!"

Zahra studied enough taxidermy of the exotic sort to know that exactly after seeing Jhlem's clipped breaths what was happening. Dashing to her quarters she left Jhlem. His weighted eyes seemed to become more heavy as she disappeared from his sight. The vleks kept piercing in and out of his side vision like a fractured picture. There was not one space or moment that he could hold. Attention span zero and then he became...cold.

Zahra had returned and splashed a picture of well water on him while scrubbing his skin with pink salt.

"Get off of him damn parasites."

Most insects in general hate salt. Yet vleks existed on more than one plane of existence. That is why the pink salt from Anda was needed. The crystal formations disrupted the phase mark of the dimensions. As Zahra scoured his skin the vleks abated scurrying off. Zahra salted the ground around the portal to the garden and the gate itself to keep them at bay. Looking down at Jhlem she noticed that he had fallen unconscious leaving her to figure out how to move his body from here to somewhere more comfortable. Jerk.

Part VII: The Vleks

2010-01-04T21:16:00.000-05:00

It overtook him like delirium. The path to the grove of Rhy was a short one. One that he had walked a million times. Nothing unique. Nothing outstanding. Yet this time...what was the skittering he kept hearing just out of earshot? The streets were fairly clear. It was mid morning and most people were at their jobs. The crisp autumn air perched itself squarely on his shoulders. He needed to see his dasha. He needed to hear her.

The weight on his shadow...something was following him. Yet everytime he turned around there was no one there except a panhandler here, a waterbearer there, a mother and child, the constable. Gazing right...gazing left...he saw nothing yet Jhlem heard the skittering grow stronger. A growing nausea blossomed in his stomach. Then he saw it out of the corner of his eye scuttling across a nearby wall. Some feral insect like creature keeping pace with him. When looking directly at the thing it disappeared. It hovered only in his peripheral sight. And to his other side on the other wall across the street there was another one. He didn't know how many were just outside of his sight line.

Or how many were really close to him.

As he picked up speed they did also. He felt small pricks upon his skin wondering if he was really covered in them. Each one the size of a small cat with their carapace glistening slimy red, grey and black. Sweat dripped from his hair onto his forehead and stung his eyes. He was loosing his way on paths that he knew intimately. Stumbling he was afraid that he would be stopped by the constable, being mistaken for someone who had ingested too much plum wine.

No one else seemed to see them. Ravenous they appeared to only converge on him, so he ran faster. The sweat, the fever, the nausea worked his body until the point that his legs couldn't keep rhythm with his stride. Collapsing Jhlen curled into a ball to protect himself from the anticipated onslaught. He grew even more afraid when he realized he was half whimpering. At that point her timbrel broke the air.

"Jhlem, what you doing on the ground like that?"

Oh Zahra.

Part VI: Tenere who was N'Djamena

2010-01-03T21:07:00.000-05:00

Some say that the island of Veidan Shra Lei lies on the Shari river, yet only appears at certain moments in dawn or twilight swimming in cast off fog. The truth is that Veidan Shra Lei lies beyond terrestrial boundaries where not even the scholars of Trechnt are sure to graph it. It was on this island that Tenere walked barefoot in the bamboo grove near the nape of the beach wishing that she had brought her sari to still the wind's bite against her skin.

Tenere who was once the goddess of love N'Djamena who by flirting with demon lords and dragon kings became Tenere the goddess of lust after loosing her station. The houri for gods and demons alike who whispered to the daughters of Red Tide obscenities. She bent the bamboo slightly to open her path while crushing white sand between her toes moving toward the direction of the water.

None knew the exact moment when she abdicated her station yet her servitude under the P'lonian House of Cnavel is a story of sullen tragedy. At the end of those stories she exiled herself to the isle of Veidan Shra Lei.

In those epics there was one man who stood with her. He stood with her before lust and after love. And she stood with him through perilous times. Because a goddess of love is also a goddess of passion thus a goddess of war and a fearsome opponent on the battlefield. With this man she wielded her urumi against the demon spawn of N'gLishib, sought for the hidden manna in the bodies of the dead at the field of Nishen.

Night ospreys dipped fish out of the ocean piercing the night air. Besides that, the bamboo grove was still, smelling of green bamboo shoots. It was at times like that Tenere thought about Jhlem and that last glance they shared in the southern rain forest.

The Battle of Narib

2010-01-01T11:36:00.000-05:00

The Battle of Naribi is the last great battle recorded in recent history of note. It is the only major conflict that has arisen after the second P'lonian War. The end of the Battle of Narib brought for the Declaration of Sinaii which on the elementary level was based on the ancient Confederacy of Tla'sorian.iii

Narib historically was the capital city of the Barian Empire. By the time of the Merchant Kings that Empire was no more yet Narib still basked in spledor as a major city in the region. During the reign of the Merchant Kings Narib (also known as Barian proper at that time) retained its sovereignty and had a strong rule as a city-state. This was all to change during the 1st P'lonian War which decemated the surrounding country side. The P'lonians then occupied Narib and made it one of the major cities of their expanding empire. Narib continued to be occupied and utilized by the P'lonians after the 1st P'lonian War. Many major engagements of the 2nd P'lonian War took place at Narib. After the 2nd P'lonian War Narib was free yet still had a stigma of complacity with the P'lonians.

The city of Narib worked hard to improve its public image in the years following the 2nd P'lonian War. They could never shake the onus of collaborating with the P'lonians. In addition to this the P'lonians held Narib responsible for the loss of its expanded empire due to the inner city revolts during the 2nd P'lonian War that weakened the line of comunication in the P'lonian Empire. All of the above resulted in the Battle of Narib.

Though who to blameiv is still called into question until this very day the event that caused 13 Nations to band together against one city is not in question. Narib had long been rumoured to be a breeding ground for P'lonian atrocities. Narib pointed out that most of these reports were heresay, rumours, and lies. On the even of the 1st day of the 11th month of the year 12,019 this was called into question as 11 children appeared in the public square who had been raped , beaten, defiled and killed. Amongst their apparel were several items of the ruling caste of politicians in Narib. By the time the story had traveld outside of the gates of Narib it had grown to told that the total population of Narib was involved in demonic P'lonian practices of whose ilk hadn't been seen since the 2nd P'lonian War.

The Battle lasted 6 days and was particularly brutal due to the dark alchemy weaponsv from the P'lonian Empire that Narib had kept secluded and hidden from other Nations and their impressive war elephant troops. The use of steampowered tanks and slugslingersvi by the unifed Nations also brought a depressing level of bloodshed to the battlefield.

At the end of the conflict the majority of the men of Narib had been slain in combat with the remaining executed as war crimminals. The remaining women of Narib commited jauhar rather than to succumb to being taken as prisoners of war. The battle of Narib was immortalized in several works of Jhlen Seeradiant who was the sole surviving poet warrior of the battle.vii

She let the wind pierce her skin.
She withered
to ascend
ash sendviii

i Also known as the Battle of Tears
ii The peacemaking treaty that binded 13 Nations. Later to include 4 more.
iii The Confederacy developed out of the rule of 3 Princes. The Confederacy stood until the 2nd P'lonian War.
iv Some asert that a secret society devoted to the P'lonians orchestrated this event. Others declare that it was P'lonian sleeper agents. Some even deny that the event took place. For more theories on the cause of the Battle of Narib refer to “Where hyena's graze: Looking at the fields of Narib”
v In particlar the Death wine (ingested liquid that turned the warriors of Narib's blood caustic for several hours so that their blood would be acidic to the touch), the lotus blossom bombs (metal shurikens that when they struck a target would inject an agent in a person's body that would cause the body to explode and transform that body's blood into a poisonious gas), and dragon's breath (Greek fire).
vi Basic six shooter guns
vii “The Lametation of Nurish”, “We have come to”, “Feast of Hyenas”, and “What say ye WhisperClose” are amongst the most well known.
viii From “The Lametations of Nurish”

The Brotherhood of the Purple Gourd

2009-12-29T11:04:00.000-05:00

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

2009-12-28T13:00:00.001-05:00

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

2009-12-22T13:50:00.000-05:00

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

2009-12-18T13:12:00.000-05:00

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 II: Death of the baku

2009-12-14T02:00:00.000-05:00

The baku was curled up on his doorstep softly purring. It was a wet, weighted purr as though something was caught in its throat aching to escape. About the size of a small dog this great mythic beast stopped Jhlen in his tracks. The gray wrinkled elephants head, tusks worn ivory, trunk languidly flailing about. Matted, dirty brown fur. Feet tipped with tiger's claws. Ox tail silent. The beast smelled as of cinnamon mixed with the smell of leaves after a light rainfall.

"Tlashi Ma Nishan", uttered Jhlen. All of the great mythic beast spoke the Shinning tongue, the first language. Very few humans spoke it nowadays thus the doings of mythic beast appeared so incomprehensible to man. Jhlen, being a brother of the Brotherhood of the Purple Gourd had learned the language as part of his initiation. He simply greeted the great beast before he realized that he knew this particular baku for it was the same one who he called upon years earlier to devour all of his dreams. The same one who he had petitioned one moon ago to return all of his dreams..and nightmares.

Baku were often called upon to devour nightmares. It was not unheard of for parents to call to them at nightfall to sup on the nightmares of their children so that babies could sleep peacefully through the night. Baku grew fat this way and their hunger sated.

baku baku baaaaku

something something for you

duppy, hairy men, waitu

baku baku fooooor youⁱ

After his many trials and wars Jhlen had called upon a baku to devour his nightmares that scarred his sleep each night. In desperation he asked the baku to devour all of his dreams so that he wouldn't be tempted to go forth and do deeds of renown which always ended as nightmares in the end. Yet with this coming Fall Jhlen had become restless and petitioned through the ethers for the return of his dreams. He awoke sweating inspiration one night, hurting his stomach from laughter, crying because he saw things he swore he would forget.

When Jhlen opened his door the baku followed him inside his rest yet he noticed it hobbled and upon a closer look the creature's frame appeared emaciated. There was no wound. It's ichor wasn't spilling. Jhlen knew that it could only mean one thing. It was dying of hunger. Baku didn't just survive on eating dreams. They also ate steel. So when bloodshed and war awoke in the world baku started dying as men constructed weapons of war.

"Njen Rq Almed" purred the ancient beast. "You are called to duty once again".

Jhlen started to shiver because he almost knew what was coming next.

"Qwed Sjan Maal Yhalutemp". "You must wield the three weapons again". "Ni Stemp a Azanium" "And go West to Azanium".

The shadows that the baku cast appeared to be forming living glyphs on the as the baku spoke. Jhlen only had one copper lantern lighting the room. It spit occasionally as melted wax touched the metal frame. He sat slumped on a bed rolled of Cyresean carpets. His hands held his face as his body grew heavier as though it was a root burying itself into the ground. And when he took his face out of his hands the baku had breathed its last breath.

iS'rn lullybye. Duppy is a ghost. Hairymen are small forest primates that kidnap children, and a Waitu is a living shadow.

Part I: Sitting in the mud

2009-12-07T16:06:00.000-05:00

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?

2009-12-04T16:00:00.000-05:00

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 happen 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.