Gentle Readers,
I return to conclude my reports to you of the Legion of the Black Sun, the Sea of Grass, and the Hunai.
I apologize to you for the uncommon delay. Simply put, in the aftermath of the fighting in the First City and the arrival of the Great General, my life has … changed. Many of the changes, I find, are disagreeable. Though I still find solace in writing to you, I have had the misfortune to discover that it is vastly harder to write when one’s heart is filled with ash and stones. Some nights I just sit here alone in my office, by lamplight, and stare at blank paper.
But I am sure we all carry sorrows in the aftermath of the betrayals and combats. I do not wish to belabor my own. Or give in to despair. In fact I received stalwart advice from a friend in the Sea of Grass not to give in to despair. Onward! I return my focus to the night we spent amongst the Hunai.
The Hunai … let me again reiterate that they are a simple people. Not stupid by any stretch. But innocent of civilization and outside of many concepts we take for granted. Because of this I found them by far to be more alien than I do the cultures of the kio, the elorii, or even the ss’ressen. Though I also want to emphasize that they are peaceful, warm and friendly to outsiders.
Two mysteries presented themselves in the Hunai “village.” First the oldest members we could see were somewhere between their late 20s or maybe their early 30s at the absolute limit. Where were the older adults? The second mystery was the discovery, shocking to me, that the Hunai’s native language was derived from ancient Altherian. How was that possible?
We found a partial answer to the first question as twilight settled over the group. The oldest man in the gathering, no more than 30, got up and started hugging people and saying goodbye. It was rather joyous on the Hunai’s part. When we asked where he was going the only response we got was, “Long Walk.” I wish we investigated further, but I didn’t realize the significance at the time. He went out and to my knowledge was never seen by mortal eyes again. At a certain age, all Hunai in the Sea of Grass go on the Long Walk.
The second great mystery was how the Hunai language could be a derivative from ancient Altherian. The inescapable conclusion is that somehow they are a lost remnant of the First Imperium. Their language, though greatly simplified, belongs on the same linguistic tree as Coryani or Khitani. How utterly bizarre! Some great story exists, I am sure, and that explains their current state. But I am ignorant of it. So are they. Their history has been stripped from them.
The Altherian connection was most apparent in the children’s rhymes sung by the very young. These rhymes still contain sentences and grammar though I believe the Hunai no longer fully understand what the rhymes mean. I present two of them here for you:
I wish my room had a door I do not care about a floor But all this floating around Without touching the ground Is getting to be quite a bore.
…and…
Open wide, don’t blink The sovereign’s link He sees all with his staring eye. He was on a mission With his only ambition To punish the man with the winking eye.
I can’t help but wonder where those rhymes originated from. Or what stories they might hint at. It’s the last piece the Hunai have left to link them to who they once were.
That night, safe on the Hunai’s hill, I stared up at the stars. It wasn’t quite perfect. Belinay wasn’t snuggled up next to me. But she was safely at home, possibly looking up at the same stars from the terrace of Litera Scripta Manet. A sense of joy and contentment came over me. I would be home soon enough. In the meantime I was in the field exploring mysteries, surrounded by friends and the Hunai who wished me well. I was doing exactly what I was born to be doing. That night was the last time I was truly happy.
The next morning my friends and I would continue through the Sea of Grass. We were after the Legion of the Black Sun. As we travelled through the marsh and towering grass, easily seven or eight feet high, we encountered other Hunai settlements on hills. All surrounded by fruit trees. All with access to fresh water. All friendly … all essentially the same. No one over 30 anywhere to be seen. There were signs of the “Pphhtt Pphhtt” as we travelled, but nothing attacked us.
Eventually we caught up with the Legion of the Black Sun and my sunny mood soured. They had eventually ditched their wagons, but had still carried the amphorae of oil with them on foot. They must have marched all night, carrying a staggering load at a tedious pace. But being undead maybe they don’t get tired or need to sleep? When we caught up with them, the Legion was arrayed around a stone structure, the only building we had seen in the See of Grass besides Fort Arlet. It must have been an ancient fortress of some type. There was a crumbling tower over the two floors of what I am guessing was either a monastery or keep.
And those monsters tore it down and set it on fire.
Maybe I was emotionally primed by the lost origin of the Hunai, but the Legions destruction of the ancient outpost was wrenching for me. They were essentially desecrating history! I wish I could tell you that we managed to slip past them and save relics from that site. Or maybe that Team BEAST magically joined us and together we charged in heroically and physically overpowered the undead horrors. But outnumbered ten to one, against veterans from the First Imperium, I can tell you not one of us felt like starting a fight. So I have to tell you, we all sat hidden in the tall grasses and waited to poke around after the Legion of the Black Sun left.
A colossal waste of time.
By the time the Legion was done and had moved on there was nothing left to recover. Nothing. And if I tell you I really dug around looking for something and came up empty, then I trust gentle readers you will believe me when I say there was nothing that survived to be found. The Legion of the Black Sun was unfathomably thorough.
With nothing left to do, we turned around and made the journey back to the First City.
Our patrons, the cabal with their grudges against the Legion of the Black Sun, were not altogether happy. As one might expect. Though we had faithfully executed the reconnaissance mission they asked for, and reported that the Legion had gone across the world to destroy an ancient fort, we couldn’t begin to answer why. No one knew the thing even existed, much less who it belonged to. As a guess, I suggested the idea that the action was connected to the ancient feud between the val’Virdan the val’Emman. Part of me would have been amused if it was the val’Virdan of the Legion taking their own overdue revenge on the site of an ancient foe.
But without any proof even I thought my words were hollow. It was just an unsupported guess.
Almost immediately after our debriefing the world came unglued. Disaster in Seremas. Trouble in Biharn. Upheaval in the Khitani borderlands. War in the First City. I quickly forgot about the Cabal, and even now only intermittently think about them.
So concludes the adventures to the Sea of Grass.
I remain your obedient scribe,
Tukufu, Ambassador of Altheria
_________________ Eric Gorman
AKA Ambassador Tukufu, man of letters, tomb raider and Master Sword Sage . . . and Sir Szymon val'Holryn, Order of the Phoenix Formerly Sir Jaeger val'Holryn. Weilder of the Holy Avenger: Thonanos. Gave his soul to help free King Noen
Last edited by val Holryn on Wed Sep 07, 2016 5:27 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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