The fires have burned low. Kep'Mila and Kef'Faron hang low in the inky black sky. Their pouch mate, Ker'Anna, was not seen this cycle. The Ket'Mo sit huddled around the dying embers while the rest of the tribe gathers, shaking their Chek'sa rhythmically. "Chakka-sic, chakka-clic, chakka-sic" the ring-wrapped stakes tingle out the beat.
The eldest Ket'Mo rises, her grayish head worn with many deep lines and wrinkles, her nukial crest ridges sagging a bit. She clears her throat as the other elders begin to chat and click, strange sounds echoing in their resonance chambers.
Chakka-sic, chakka-clc, chakka-sic

"As you know... our world was spawned from the fourth clutch of the most ancient and revered of Wyrms, holy J'ogk. His first clutch laid the Eggs of spirits that live in the skies, The Three: Kep'Mila, most fair; Kef'Faron, swiftest; and Ker'Anna the smallest, and most hidden by the blackness of the void. Next came the clutch of the greater spirits, those Wyrms that would help almighty J'ogk carry out his tasks. Then came the lesser spirits: the earth, the air, the water. It was also in this clutch that J'ogk created the Stone King, K'ark'a'rek, most hated, most reviled of all things. But this too was all according to J'ogk's plan. Great evil must be balanced out by great good, so that the people-yet-to-come may chose between these two paths. The next clutch, this fourth seed, became the very earth upon which we dwell. It was around this last egg that the Maker curled himself around to keep it warm, and to bring life to his creations. Finally, Holy J'ogk, Life-bringer, birthed his fifth and final clutch. This wondrous grouping of eggs had a choice in their destinies. It was in the laying of this clutch that these eggs became the beings that lived upon the mighty earth came into existence.

"For generations, the gods and the great Wyrms lived amongst the lesser beings: teaching them, guiding them. It was in these early days that the grand Wyrm Sithayrius breathed life into the eggs that would become the seven great tribes of our people." And as each number was spoken aloud the tribe chatted back the counting, reverently breathing the holy numbers.

Chakka-sic, chakka-clic, chakka-sic

"One of the first gods to lend a hand to the Sith people was that Far-Seeing K'Marden. His guidance and wisdom helped the pouchlings of Sith learn about the lands, and how to live off of its bounty. The people never forgot these blessings. The people always remember." The elder gave her Chek'sa healthy sake to emphasize her point.

"Then, ages passed. Many forgot about the gods, many forgot about the boons they had received and their obligations. It was then that a great evil crept into the land, it poisoned those that forgot, and it tempted them with false treasures and flowery promises. The progeny of Sithayrius did not forget. A great battle was waged in the heavens as well as on this earth. The gods fought against this fell evil that fogged men's hearts and minds. The gods called upon the Wyrms and the progeny of Sithayrius to help in this great war, and fight they did. Bravely they struggled to free the land from the spell of the devilry that bewitched it, and in one great battle the ancient Wyrm Snarlinar saved the Far-Seeing K'Marden from sure death, but in the process, the Wyrm was gravely wounded.

"K'Marden was moved by this act of thoughtless sacrifice. He laid his Bright Cloak over the Venerable Drake's dying form. This most blessed of mantles, which had been worn by the Bright-Eyed god during his travels amongst the People through out the Lands, was imbued with the god's great benevolence and his almighty power. The mantle of K'Marden healed the dying Snarlinar, and made the great elder whole again. The great Wyrm cried tears of pain and joy, which fell to the ground as diamonds, and bathed the ground in their beauty. It was here that the People and their gods forever pledged to assist K'Marden in his eternal fight against the forces of darkness and deceit, as K'Marden did pledge to help the people and their gods in times of great need.

The Ket'Mo pauses, and waits for the chanting and the thumping to die down. The fire crackles as the clanking of rings and the thrumping of tails is all that is heard. "This is a great time of need for our people," she pauses again. Her gaze fixes upon some of the tribal warriors. "Our great god, Wyrm K'Farrius, has fallen ill to the Grey Death; the plague that rots the body and mind as it razes the land of life. He will soon depart for the land of Bone; the land of eternal cold, eternal night. With the passing of our ancient protector, so shall our way of life and our village shall pass into dust.

"Shek'qwa Chika'ko Sato, Shen'twa of K'Fon, step forward." A small reptilian head raised in the crowd of young warriors. Lithely he raised himself up and strode forward and bowed to the Ring Cleric "The time has come to yet again prove yourself, to protect the honor and life of the tribe. The Keth'Ra of mighty K'Fon will be long spoken amongst our brethren. The Rings of your Chek'sa will long sing the praises of this most noble life and sacrifice. His death brought his line and all of our people much honor. Now, we must ask you to sacrifice more than we ever had for the good of your tribe.

"We ask you to forsake these ancestral lands you have dwelled upon all of your days; we ask you to put aside your Chek'sa and the training of the Paq'shen'kwa to help your god live." The Ket'Mo pulled an embroidered pouch from within her robes. Gingerly opening it with her talons she emptied it out into her palm. A large diamond sat there, glistening in the firelight. "Snarlinar's Tears, the Tears of the Dragon. This stone has been with our tribe since the dawn of our counting. It was shed as Snarlinar was healed, and forever is it linked to the Mantle of K'Marden."

As she turned the flawless stone around in her hands it began to glow as it began to face south, growing stronger the further in the direction the idle turnings went.

"For the sake of our lands, our honor, and our god, you must follow the path this stone leads you on and return with the Holy Mantle for K'Farrius. The road will be long and perilous. You must travel amongst the unwashed masses of Man, but remain true to your heart, and you will find your way out with the heathen."

by Christopher Robinson

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