Saturday, August 08, 2009

Chains

08/08/2009

The following was my entry for the Dark Elf cultural horror story competition for the Convocation of Coraesine Field event.

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I am often asked, by those unfamiliar with this story, whether it is true. The answer is yes, it is true, as all such tales are, whether or not the events in them ever happened.

This is a tale from Before. Before Sharath, before the Conflagration that bore Sharath, and before the Fall that bore the Conflagration. In this time, the Unbound were still our allies, and the Keening Spire had not yet begun to weep. The First Born dwelled within the City, and within the City dwelled Varen.

Varen was young, as his people reckon age, merely a few years removed from the completion of his Trials, and now apprenticed as a carnifex, one who renders the dead into their useful components, and discards only the inutile portions as carrion.

This was a valued profession, as resources in the far south are few, and there is too much of worth even in the deceased to allow it to rot in the soil or in the stomach of scavengers. More than merely necessary, though, it was a sought-after apprenticeship, as who can gain Ascension when one is bound to one’s fleeting mortality? The carnifex, more so than even a veteran of the warrior societies, was inured to the flesh, to sentimentality, for they had no choice but to become so.

It was a role perfectly suited to Varen. Nothing valuable escaped his keen eye, and no waste was countenanced by his keen hands and the consummate skill with which he wielded the blades, saws, and mills of his profession. The Masters of his art looked upon his work with quiet approval, and merely a year into his apprenticeship, he was granted the right to work without the supervision of the the Elders.

One morning, he pulled back the canvas covering the body before him, and for the first time in the commission of his duties, Varen paused.

Before him lay Anilasa, who had been born nearly to the moment he had, a rare occurrence amongst the people, whose children are few and far between. They had entered the Trials simultaneously, passed them effortlessly, and she had possessed skill in her arts to equal his, excepting that hers lay in the wielding of blades against the living rather than the dead.

They had admired each other greatly - too much, perhaps, but such pride was common in the young, and often faded on its own as wisdom grew. It was assumed by those who observed such things that they would one day petition for and be granted procreative rights, as the union of such blood could only strengthen the First Born.

Her patrol had carried her into the city at daybreak, and had delivered her immediately to the carnifex, for she had been slain by one of the Nameless Children, from whose mortal wounds no liturgy of resurrection could offer solace.

Varen attempted to steel himself and begin the rites of incision, to no avail. He forced himself through all the disciplinary mantras, yet will and focus fled from him like smoke.

In the end, he put the corpse aside, and called upon his Master. He requested leave, in order to meditate more fully upon his duty, and it was granted. Such a thing was not uncommon when a carnifex first worked upon one he was familiar with. As was usual in these cases, Anilasa’s flesh would be preserved until Varen’s return, so that he could prove his discipline when next he wielded his blades.

Returning home, Varen contemplated his next course of action. In his labors, he had wrested many secrets from the dead. He had learned of an anchorite who had once touched the power of Fash’lo’nae, and, resonating with terrible understanding, had left the city for a life of isolation in order to keep his brethren safe. Torn halfway between mortality and Ascendancy, he had become a conduit of dangerous and forbidden knowledge.

Before the horizon had lit, Varen had begun his journey.

The anchorite had foretold his arrival, and what it would mean, and attempted to ward his visitor from his home. Varen, however, knew the Words of Breaking, and was not delayed.

At first, the hermit resisted questioning, for he knew the answers, and the danger within them. Varen, however, knew the Words of Compulsion, and thus the anchorite had no choice but to speak.

He told Varen that the only recourse was to forge a pact with one of the Adversaries, for they held a compact with the Children, and only they could bargain for the souls they kept from the Ebon Gate. Even then, he warned, there would be a price, for none of their race serve others without first serving themselves.

And, in this instance, he told Varen, only Oleani could assist him.

Varen recoiled at that name, but quickly recovered his composure. He demanded to know why it must be Her. Of the Adversaries, few were as dangerous, as eager to bind the First Born to their flesh, to animal instinct, never to Ascend.

The anchorite held Varen’s gaze, and explained that none would help a mortal who did not hold something of value to them, and what Varen held in him would slake none of their thirsts but Hers.

He told Varen to remember, that her power does not bind us. Her danger lies in seducing us into binding ourselves. That is why, should you succeed in making this pact, Anilasa will live once more, but you must never touch her again. Not once, no matter how lightly, no matter how briefly.

Varen accepted this, thinking it a small price to pay for her return.

The hermit gave him instructions on how to walk the secret ways that led to her realm, and Varen committed them to memory.

He convinced himself that this was needed, that to do otherwise would be robbing his people of her talents, that her children would be strong, even if they could not be his as well. Indeed, with as few children as are delivered to the First Born, could they even afford a loss such as this? If he must feign personal desire to convince Oleani to assist him, then that is what he would do.

And the easiest lies to believe are those one tells oneself.

Varen could not say how long the journey lasted nor how far he wandered, for the path he trod was as much spirit as dross. The passage of the moon and sun soon gave way to a grey empyrean, from which a vague glow emanated, though no celestial body could be seen. Finally, upon cresting the lip of a vast crater that had punctured the deep red stone of the wasteland, he saw that he had arrived.

Before him stood the enemy’s citadel, a misshapen thing, a cyclopean tumor erupting from the landscape. As he looked upon it from his vantage, he could see the outer walls flex and strain at points, as if something enormous were held within, testing the resilience of its prison.

He willed himself to move forward, with each step having to remind himself of his purpose for doing so. The closer to the citadel, the more his eyes picked up on its methodical beating, and the shrill keen it emitted, sounding like nothing less than a legion of discordant birth cries.

There was no entryway, merely a smooth outer skin. As he lifted his hand to touch it, a tear formed in the wall and folded back on itself, allowing him ingress. Stepping inside, the membrane sealed itself behind him.

The interior struck him with an oppressive humidity. No surface escaped the omnipresent moisture, and only the odd texture of the floor allowed him to walk upright. Ahead, more walls parted, beckoning him onwards.

In the shadows writhed forms not meant to be seen by the eye, and within the translucent walls themselves pulsed arcane fluids. From the unseen ceiling hung glistening amniotic sacs, ceaselessly disgorging unidentifiable creatures, which would fall to the ground and quickly scuttle out of sight.

At last, the path opened onto what could only be an audience chamber. Cavernous, it receded into blackness, with only the area immediately surrounding him illuminated by the sourceless sanguine glow. Ahead sat a dais of sorts, polished ivory, rising from the ground as if grown there. Atop it, flanking either edge, were two demons, identical in almost every aspect of appearance and demeanor, including the innumerable thorns that burst from their skin. The sole exception was their eyes. Though both wielded an intense blue gaze, the eyes of one were acutely sorrowful, from which an unending stream of tears flowed, while those of the other were manic, crazed to the limits of sanity in their apparent joy.

A voice, seductive, yet mocking, rose from all around Varen, welcoming the First Born to her sanctum.

From obscurity, a form rose from the floor between the two monstrous attendants, seeming to somehow...unfold in front of him. Her tall form dwarfed those beside her, and was both wondrous and terrible to behold. Her features were exquisite and her flawless skin was faintly luminous, exposed as it was in its entirety, but her movements seemed wrong to him, almost disjointed.

Though he had never seen her incarnate before, Varen instinctively knew that he now addressed Oleani herself.

The Adversary spoke, and though she stood before him now, the words once more reverberated from his surroundings. She demanded to know why he had approached her, as the First Born rarely parleyed with her people.

He explained in great detail why he had sought this audience. As he spoke of Anilasa, he began with his usual reserve, but as he continued, he found restraint harder and harder to achieve. Words flowed from his mouth, effusive in their praise for his dead friend, recalling details about her he had not even realized he remembered. And still he continued, until he realized that he had lost control of his own actions, the fervency of his appeal providing its own momentum. He could feel himself weakening, as the flame of his desire was stoked and fanned until it filled him to bursting, even as it was being siphoned from him.

The more he spoke, the more Oleani’s smile widened, until she was wearing a rictus that nearly split her face in two. As his energy waned, hers waxed, and her luminosity increased exponentially.

It was then, on the verge of collapse, that he could see the truth of what stood before him. Now illuminated, the twisted cords that extended from her into the darkness above were finally visible. These myriad, viscous funiculi supported her body, and twitched and spasmed for every motion she made.

This was not Oleani, but merely a marionette of sorts, an organ designed specifically to communicate with lesser beings. And it was then that he realized.

He was not standing before Oleani, but within her.

The power, the monstrosity of this Adversary struck him fully then, bringing him an understanding of her nature that decades of study had not, and indeed could not have. The shock of this revelation proved to be precisely the catalyst he needed to arrest his frenzied monologue, and he was able to finally reassert dominance over his own heart and mind.

As his breath returned, he asked what she had done to him. The voice once again resounded through the chamber, telling him that, in fact, it had done nothing at all, that it did not create desire, merely elicited what was already there.

Varen was incredulous, convinced that she had been controlling his thoughts and emotions. Her effigy, however, merely looked upon him, bemusement painted across its features.

Her voice informed him that the payment had been acceptable, that the deal would now be struck.

Her two most loyal minions, the twin demons Loss and Anathema, known in the Old Tongue as Laethe and Voaris, approached, moving in perfect synchronicity. Each gripped his forearm, then twisted to expose his wrist. In unison, they each took one talon and incised two intersecting circles into his flesh. As blood welled, they both leaned forward and pressed their lips against the mark, the skin sealing beneath the warmth of their touch. And though the laceration was gone, Varen could still feel it, as if instead of healing, the wound had merely sunk beneath his skin, like a predator, lurking.

And Oleani’s carnal puppet spoke one final time, telling him that the pact was made, and he was free to go.

As he left the citadel, he passed an area he had not seen on the way in. Through the walls, he could see a row of Her servitors, squat and bestial, toiling over countless anvils. Their hammers rose and fell rhythmically, and Varen could see that each was forging a single link in an immense iron chain. As he strode by the doorway, the thralls lifted their heads, unceasing in their labor, and followed him with their vacant eyesockets, their labored breath drawn hungrily through their leering grins.

The invisible mark beneath Varen’s wrist throbbed, and his steps, already hurried, quickened even more until he stood beneath the sun once again.

The fugue that gripped him on the journey towards the Adversary’s bastion also gripped his mind on the journey back. By the time he approached the City again, he was not entirely sure that his wanderings had not been imagined.

However, the news awaiting him upon his return belied the phantasmagoric nature of his travels, for Anilasa was alive once more.

Rarely does a body in queue for the carnifex rise of its own accord, and never had a victim of the Nameless Children done so, and thus she was studied for signs of undeath, possession, and any number of conditions that might explain her impossible vitality. Their inquiries uncovered nothing sinister, however.

On the chance that they had missed something, she was kept from her former patrols, for both her and their safety. As the one most familiar with her, Varen was instructed to stay close to her and observe, to watch for any sign that she was not who she once was. She would be assigned as his assistant until such time as she was deemed uncorrupted. If any suspected he was complicit in her new condition, lack of evidence kept them silent.

Her new proximity did not concern him overmuch. After all, he had not forgotten the anchorite’s warning, and the taboo itself was simple enough. He was pleased simply to have her near again.

That he even felt such pleasure was the first sign of his erosion.

Varen learned quickly that self-control was far easier to achieve when temptation was not at arm’s length. What was simple at first became increasingly difficult. Days turned to weeks turned to months, until every moment near her felt to him like an eon.

He recalled every word of the effusive praise for Anilasa that had poured from him in his audience with Oleani, and this alone was challenging to wrestle with, but it was as nothing next to his realization that even that mania had failed to compare to the reality of the woman herself.

When Anilasa’s subtle attentions made it clear that she likely felt towards him as he did her, every second Varen maintained his facade of detachment became an eternity of torture.

His illusion of discipline evaporated before him the more fervently he tried to cling to it.

Even sleep no longer offered respite. Everything forbidden by day raced through his dreams, and he would wake in the morning no less tormented, a dull throb in his wrist.

He understood now, only too late, that he had never truly been tested. He had always been too good, and so every task set before him had always been too easy. Despite his fearsome intelligence and immaculate skill, his will remained stunted and feeble.

And without a foundation of will, no other virtue could stand for long.

When one day she whispered her true feelings towards him, and how long she had held them, the last ragged fragments of his resolve could not make even the pretense of resistance.

As he reached to Anilasa and pulled her into his embrace, he found it a relief to finally surrender.

Moments later, one of the masters found himself walking by the cutting room. As he was passing the door he heard from behind it an ululation, soft at first, then rising in pitch, and then suddenly punctuated by the harsh sound of lashing metal. He immediately pulled the door open.

And he saw them, writhing forms sewn together by rough links of iron, as if by a giant needle threaded through their flesh, their grotesque moans an amalgam of both ecstasy and agony. He had but a moment to comprehend the perverse tableau before the chains pulled taut, and the two-now-one were dragged forever into the dark.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Dhe’nari Bards

08/10/2007

I once gave a brief overview of the Dhe’nari bard here:

“The Dhe’nar bard is the lorekeeper of his people. It is the bard’s job to be the living history of the Dhe’nar, memorizing every last bit of history, genealogy, and mythology of the First Born. Their training lasts longer than that of any other Dhe’nar profession, as they must commit to memory every detail of a culture that has existed for 80,000 years. Utilizing a vast variety of mnemonic devices to retain all this knowledge, the Dhe’nar Lorekeepers claim to be the first of the mortal races to have discovered the magic resident within the spoken word. However, not all Dhe’nari bards become Lorekeepers. Those who seek combat can find themselves valued in the Warrior Caste, and those who prefer to research the nature of their sound magic can find a role with the Warlock caste as well.”

I would like to expand upon this now, as the Lorekeeper I mentioned then is but one role of many.

Though those of other nations choose to collectively refer to those that wield sound magic as entertainers, or “bards”, those of the Dhe’nar rarely share a common title, preferring to be known by their individual roles within their castes. Few, if any, are entertainers, as the Common term implies. Any of them may be a Lorekeeper, a Sonomancer, one of the Discordant, and so on.

It is, of course, their particular approach to magic, their belief in the raw power of sound, that truly unites the Dhe’nari “bards”, while simultaneous setting them apart from their brethren. Specifically, most believe that sound itself is the underlying foundation of all magic, and not only that, but creation itself, and it is through the manipulation of sound that they seek Ascension.

As the theory goes, everything that exists is tied to a certain sound, a certain harmony, known as its resonance. This resonance contains determines the object’s nature, and as something changes, so does its “sound”. Conversely, by changing something’s resonance, the object itself then changes.

These two elements form the basis of Dhe’nari theories of sound magic. The ability to “read” the information in an object’s resonance forms the basis of the “loresinging” ability, while the ability to change the resonance in oneself, another, or one’s surroundings, essentially “rewriting” them, forms the basis of bardic “spells”. Thus their “songs” are truly a method of creating an informational construct, then forcing it on the world by imposing its harmonics over those that existed previously. Once the “bard” ceases to transmit sounds, local reality reasserts itself once more.

Theoretically, one could change the very world, or the stars, or even creation itself, if one had the proper harmonics, and a powerful enough delivery system.

The Sonomancers believe that resonance is the true lynchpin underlying all magics, from those of the Drakes to the lowliest savage hedge wizard. Other orders of magicians tend to dispute this, naturally, though none have, as of yet, disproven it.

Although many different types of Dhe’nari bard exist, beyond the three I mentioned above, one is probably more likely to encounter a Sonomancer (pure sound mages, typically members of the Warlock Caste) or a member of the Discordant (a military order that applies destructive harmonics to its physical combat skills, members of the Warrior Caste).

The Lorekeepers are not often seen outside Sharath, as they have effectively turned themselves into living libraries. By changing their resonance bit by bit over many long years, and reinforcing every piece of information they impose on their minds, they become repositories of vast amounts of Dhe’nari lore, from History to Genealogy (very important in a society that suffered a catastrophic population loss, and wishes to avoid inbreeding) to Research, and so on. The eldest and most advanced Lorekeepers hold the combined knowledge of tens of thousands of years of Dhe’nar culture in their heads, dispensing such information as their people need it. The reasons one may never encounter such individuals outside Sharath are twofold, and may already be obvious to the reader.

For one, the value of such an individual to Dhe’nar society cannot be overstated, and leaving Sharath always comes with risk. And secondly, the most advanced Lorekeepers have sacrificed much for their abilities, and can easily find it difficult to interact on a normal basis with the mundane world.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

The Dhe’nar View of the “Gods”: Onar (Lesser Spirit)

07/29/2006

Onar is an ascended assassin who has been known to sell his services to the Arkati (of both “pantheons”, as the younger cultures divide them), and to mortals who know the secrets of both attracting his attention and the types of payment he accepts. It is not known who Onar was when mortal, and it is believed that he has long since eliminated anyone who knew his original identity.

When Onar acts, he rarely, if ever, does so in his own form, as secrecy is of vital importance to him. Rather, he prefers to possess mortals and act through them. Typically, he chooses one with skills, knowledge, or connections that will assist him in his work. Some Dhe’nar assassin sects, particularly the Bent Talon and the Sons of Ash, are known to hope to become temporary vessels of Onar, as it is said that when the possession ends, some elements of the spirit’s skill/knowledge is left behind.

While some claim that Onar leaves a skull mark on those he possesses, the truth of the matter is that no competent assassin would announce his intentions in such an obvious manner, visible to even a cursory search. To the Dhe’nar and others with common sense, it is understood that such marks are used for distraction and misdirection.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Dhe’nar Temple Caste and Sympathetic Magic

05/10/2006

One of the more frequent questions asked of Dhe’nar in GemStone is that, since they do not consider the Arkati to be truly divine beings, and often consider Arkati to be adversaries of mortals rather than worthy of worship (or even worthy of respect in some cases) then how is it that Clerics and Paladins even exist amongst the First Born, never mind seem to be granted spiritual power by the Arkati?

This, in fact, is not a puzzle to the Dhe’nar Temple Caste, because the workers of Spiritual Magic amongst the First Born operate on a different theory of magic than the younger races. While the short-lived mortals perform spiritual magic by making themselves subordinate and submissive towards their patron spirits, the Dhe’nar spiritual magicians operate under the theory of Sympathetic Magic.

Sympathetic magic is the use of images, physical objects, sounds, and other symbolic behaviors which in some way resemble the person or thing one hopes to influence. In the case of Dhe’nari members of the Temple Caste, the Arkati and their behaviors are the subjects emulated.

In other words, Sympathetic Magic is the manipulation of symbols, to create magical effects using the power of the object symbolized. If one wishes to evoke the power of Eonak, one looks/sounds/acts/thinks like Eonak. If one wishes to evoke the power of Fash’lo’nae, one does the same for him, and so on and so forth.

Dhe’nar clerics and paladins therefore draw on the power of the arkati by making themselves as similar to the Arkati in question as possible, and obtain their power in that manner. All Greater and Lesser Spirits have a “pool” of power available to and surrounding them, and Sympathetic Magic allows one to “tap” into that pool and use a portion of it as if one were the Arkati itself. Note that this similarity must be in more than just appearance. Intricate and arcane meditations are required to bring the mind of the Dhe’nar to the proper state as well. 

For a more modern analogy of the overall process, consider temporarily spoofing a network into thinking you were its proper owner, then using its resources/bandwidth briefly to accomplish some other purpose.

This is how Dhe’nar draw upon the power of the Arkati while still seeking to replace them. Instead of worshipping an Arkati, and asking it to bestow a portion of its power upon the supplicant, Dhe’nar who use spiritual magic have learned to access it without having to bend knee to the “gods” and beg.

Note that accessing the power does not automatically confer the ability to use it well, or use it at all. It still requires will, intelligence, and training to wield the power of an Arkati properly after it has been accessed. Simply “dressing up” as an Arkati does not grant you its power.

There is one more method of utilizing and Arkati’s or Lesser Spirit’s power without worshipping it, though this secondary method is much rarer. It requires making use of the Magical Law of Contagion, which is the Law that things which have once been in contact with each other continue to act on each other at a distance after the physical contact has been severed. Thus, it is possible to draw upon the power of the Arkati as a Cleric or Paladin if one has a relic that an Arkati has once been in contact with. The relic maintains a bridge between the user of magic and the Arkati whose power once touched it. This is rarer for two reasons: One, such relics are difficult to find and those that are known are heavily guarded by their owners. And two, an Arkati may take notice of the use of the relic and decide it wants its former belonging back.

Sunday, October 09, 2005

Worker Caste Overview

10/09/2005

No Dhe’nar works as a farmer or other menial laborer. Those Dhe’nar relegated to the Worker caste are trained as highly skilled craftsmen and artisans, as well as administrators. The Khanshael, since their manumission, have been considered full members of the Worker caste, and specialize in the smithing of metals and stone of all sorts. Some Dhe’nar even apprentice to the Khanshael. Dhe’nar who show a talent for bureaucracy find themselves, amongst other tasks, managing the force of slave laborers that is so vital to the continuity of Dhe’nar culture. They ensure that there are always enough slaves, that they are healthy enough to work, and that the population never gets too low – or too high. They are also responsible for the manumission of slaves. For those slaves who have proven themselves particularly intelligent and skilled, there is always the option of freedom. If granted manumission, the freed slave (and his family, if he has one) may choose to remain as a member of the Worker caste, or leave the Dhe’nar entirely. The Khanshael were manumitted as a whole in the past, due to their extraordinary skill and service. No Dhe’nar owns slaves individually – slaves are owned by the culture as a whole and are assigned where needed.

To the Workers, Ascension is sought through service and craft.

The Castes In General

10/09/2005

To make up for their low population, the Dhe’nar are highly specialized, and highly trained. The average level of training for the Dhe’nar people, regardless of caste, is well beyond what is expected amongst other cultures. All Dhe’nar are trained as elites in their chosen fields. Nothing less is tolerated. Training is very challenging, and lasts decades. Those who fail to meet the standards of the Warlock, Warrior, or Temple castes are relegated to the Worker caste, who provide a vital function, but do not require the same exacting standards of performance as the other castes. No Dhe’nar falls by the wayside – with such a low population, everyone must serve to the best of their ability. Even the least skilled of the Dhe’nar have a place - they tend to be assigned bureaucratic positions within the Worker caste.

Aside from family, caste is the other major distinction in Dhe’nar society.

Keep in mind, however, that Caste membership is not strictly determined by “profession” as defined by GemStone’s game mechanics. Though I list under each Caste’s overview the professions that generally fall into that Caste’s membership, it is by no means the final word.

There are Bards who are members of the Warrior Caste, whose role it is to provide enhancive magical support for their units, and who wield devastating sonic weapons and armor in combat.

Paladins especially find themselves “between Castes” often, dividing duties between the Templar and Warrior castes. Very few find themselves dedicated to one caste or the other.

Sorcerers, though generally associated with the pure magic wielding and research of the Warlock caste, can find themselves associated with the Temple Caste should their studies of the other dimensions of existence provide them with insight into the nature of the spirit realms and the Arkati.

Wizards, especially those referred to as “War Mages”, can become members of the Warrior Caste, as can Empaths who study the art of combat - they are especially treasured as battlefield medics, especially with the ability to enhance an entire squad with Troll’s Blood.

As you can see, Profession does not determine Caste, but merely presents a general stereotype. Above all else, the Dhe’nar are coldly practical, and would not “shoehorn” an individual into a certain role if his abilities are better utilized elsewhere.

Warlock Caste Overview

10/09/2005

The Warlock Caste includes both wizards and sorcerors. Collectively they are known as Warlocks.

The Warlocks seek Ascension through the manipulation of the laws that bind reality. To them, natural laws are a code that must be broken, in order to decipher the wisdom that lies beneath. Thus, they are ever engaged in magical research, with a wide variety of specialties.

Sorcerers and wizards, though they do not shape magical forces the same way, still operate closely together within the caste, sharing theoretical magical knowledge even if they cannot practice each others’ core spells. Wizards and sorcerers perform research and experimentation jointly, in order to apply both magical perspectives to the Caste’s studies. It is rare to find a research group staffed only by one profession or the other. Even those that study the summoning of demons, normally the sole purview of the sorcerer, benefit from a wizard’s perspective.

There are, of course, those Warlocks who seek a more martial channel for their arts, and they train jointly with the Warrior caste. Such Warlocks operate with their units in the field in order to provide magical fire support when needed.

Temple Caste Overview

10/09/2005

The Temple caste includes clerics, empaths, and bards. Collectively, they are referred to as the Templars.

The clerics of the Dhe’nar are not worshippers of the arkati, but rather intermediaries between the arkati, the lesser spirits (possibly including Ascended Dhe’nar), and the Dhe’nar people. Though in practice, there is little difference in the powers of Dhe’nar clerics and those from other cultures, the mindset is rather different. They see the granting of clerical power as more of a process of barter – an equal exchange of services – than as a reward for faithful servitude. It is to the Clerics that Dhe’nar come when they are in need of guidance along their path to Ascension, as it is the Clerics who are closer to the minds of the arkati than all others.

Much like everywhere else, the empaths are the healers of their people. However, there is a far more martial bent amongst Dhe’nar empaths than among those of other cultures. Rare is the group of Dhe’nar soldiers who do not have at least one empath in their ranks, trained to the same rigorous standards as their fellow warriors. In fact, the most skilled of the Dhe’nar empaths are those who become battlefield healers. The only empaths who do not accompany warriors are those still in training, those still not skilled enough to treat multiple grievous combat wounds, those elders who have retired from active combat duty, or those who are serving time away from Warrior units in order to teach the apprentices and perform the one other empath function vital to the Dhe’nar people – the delivery of children. It is this role more than any other that has secured a revered place amongst the Dhe’nar for the empaths. Many Dhe’nar empaths therefore find themselves switching between Castes at least a couple times during their lives.

The Dhe’nar bard is the lorekeeper of his people. It is the bard’s job to be the living history of the Dhe’nar, memorizing every last bit of history, geneology, and mythology of the First Born. Their training lasts longer than that of any other Dhe’nar profession, as they must commit to memory every detail of a culture that has existed for 80,000 years. Utilizing a vast variety of mnemonic devices to retain all this knowledge, the Dhe’nar Lorekeepers claim to be the first of the mortal races to have discovered the magic resident within the spoken word. However, not all Dhe’nari bards become Lorekeepers. Those who seek combat can find themselves valued in the Warrior Caste, and those who prefer to research the nature of their sound magic can find a role with the Warlock caste as well.

See the Childbirth section for more information on that particular responsibility of the Temple Caste.

Within the Temple Caste, Ascension is sought in a variety of ways. For the clerics, it is a matter of trying to comprehend the arkati through direct experience of their power. For the empaths, Ascension is sought through sacrifice. And for the lorekeepers, Ascension is a secret found buried within the mysteries of history and language.

Warrior Caste Overview

10/09/2005

The Dhe’nar Warrior Caste includes mostly (in game terms) warriors, rogues, and rangers. Collectively they are known as Guardians.

The Dhe’nar cannot field armies in the manner of larger nations and empires, but they have no need to, isolated as they are. Any invading force large enough to threaten them would have a very difficult time reaching them, and keeping up supply routes along the way. There are, of course, rumors that Ascended Dhe’nar spirits also act as guardians to Sharath, and would by themselves provide a formidable obstacle to any assault, although as far as outsiders know, this has never been proven.

The standard Dhe’nar Warrior is an elite soldier trained to operate in small, highly mobile and relatively independent units. Large infantry formations are useless in a dense jungle environment, and they have no use for cavalry at all. Much like modern special forces units, raids, ambushes, and other guerilla-level tactics are what they are trained to excel in.

Dhe’nar rangers and rogues are more accurately called Scouts. They are trained to operate either in pairs or independently. Their job is to range far and wide throughout the jungles in order to gather intelligence regarding the resident tribes, hostile creatures, or any potential threats to the Dhe’nar they might stumble upon. Although skilled warriors, they are not intended to engage in combat in anything other than a desperate situation. It is the job of the larger, more heavily armed units of warriors to directly engage threats. Unlike their ranger counterparts in other nations, the Scouts hold no particular reverence for nature. It is a medium they operate within, and no more.

Scouts with Rogue skills are more skilled in operating in population centers than their Ranger counterparts. They tend to be, though aren’t always, more specialized in the fields of security, law enforcement, espionage, and, if needed, assassination.

Though all these branches are elite by the standards of other cultures, even they have their elite units, with traditions reaching back hundreds, if not thousands of years. The BladeWed (a name symbolizing their nearly religious bond with their weapon of choice) are an example of one such elite unit, dedicated to serving as warriors for the Temple caste. There are many more military orders.

Other professions are represented in the Warrior caste as well, though not in the same numbers as the above three. These others are Bards, Wizards, Empaths, and Paladins. All of these professions have members that may find their skils suited more to military application than their more stereotypical roles, and can thus readily find a place in Guardian units. Such members provide the Warrior caste with more tactical flexibility than they would otherwise have, with no magical assistance.

To the Warrior Caste, Ascension is sought in battle, in the perfection of the physical fighting arts, and they seek to emulate those Arkati reknowned for their non-magical combat prowess. For them, the spilling of blood in combat is a sacrament, no less spiritual than meditation in a temple.