That was funny! Thank you for sharing.
A legend told by our shamans, of how the sun was tamed.
In the elder days Pator was wild and untamed. His wrath was legendary, causing great harm to the people, burning crops and turning the land into desert. Yet he could also be distant, plunging the world in darkness and cold. He had little regard for those other than himself, and would not heed the call of the other spirits, not even the Old Mother. At times he would travel quickly across the sky, making the days short and the nights long. At others, he would pace lazily, taking his time and blinding all with his light. He did what he wanted because he had no one to fear, for who could challenge the sun?
And so it was that the people suffered. Many councils were called. Man and spirit both pleaded with Pator, sacrifices or offerings were made, but all this did was feed suns pride. Then, a young warrior, looking to prove his might and end the suffering of his people rose up to challenge the Sun Spirit. Amused that one would dare challenge him, he accepted. When he arrived at the appointed hour, his radiance shone brightly and it scared those that had come to witness, All but the warrior.
For 4 days, and 4 nights, the warrior wrestled with Pator. The battle raged, and neither man nor spirit could gain the upper hand. For all his strength, Pator found that the warrior’s spirit was a match for his own. And so, on the morning of the 5th day, Pator relented, out of respect for the young warrior, and for the first time the Sun spirit regarded another as an equal. Since that day, Pator has measured his strength, and steadily walks the sky.
Thank you for sharing. This was entirely new to me, though some storytellers beginning with “long time ago, when the sun was still young” is maybe an echo of it.
Once upon a time before the Darkness, down along the road to Dokvat, there lived a man called Daleet, and he was of a fisher clan. They told then, as they still do now, stories of the great sea monsters Taniwha and Timingila that supposedly live in the great oceans to South.
One day, the seagoing fisherfolk of Daleet’s village claimed that they had spotted a great shark in the waters of Sundsele. His whole circle pronounced they would go out to see the Timingila, and Daleet proudly professed he would hunt the beast.
When they got to the deep waters on their boats, there were no sea monsters to be seen. Disappointed, the fisherfolk started to turn to their work. Daleet, too, started to let down his nets, when his sister called to her: “Hey Daleet, are you dropping cod nets for the Timingila?”
Daleet blushed, but rolled his eyes, and said “Of course not, silly sister! The Timingila is mythical! I am a responsible person, not one to run off sightseeing when there is work to do. I am fishing food for my lodge.”
During the night, a storm rose, such a heavy storm that it tore Daleet’s nets and threw them every which way. Daleet’s cousin laughed and said to Daleet: “I guess the lodge will go hungry.”
Daleet blushed, but rolled his eyes, and said “Of course not, silly cousin! I will feed them when the storm passes. It is not a good day for netting. But I am a responsible person, and today I will fish for finer catch with rod and reel, to smoke and sell as delicacies at the Sundsele market.”
Daleet went out with rods and reels, but the wind was heavy and the rocks were slippery, and he fell to the water. It was not deep, and he was not in any danger, but his tools were broken and he was done catching shore fish for the day. Some blue mussels lived where he had fallen, so he gathered some of those and returned to his village.
There, his aunts and uncles and cousins and sister were mending nets, when they saw him return with his catch, and they called out: “Fine catch you have caught for the market, Daleet!” and laughed.
Daleet blushed, but he rolled his eyes, and said: “Silly kinfolk! I will make money later. Today I quite fancy mussels.” And he went to his house, and closed his door, but could not quite shut out his circle’s laughter and songs.
“Such common entertainment,” he said to himself, and rolled his eyes. Then he baked some white bread, and cooked the mussels in wine, and took out the best inherited tableware, and sat to eat alone.
“I am a man of refined tastes,” he said, to himself.
The Old Woman’s Advice.
Quite some time ago in a small town on Amarr Prime, there was a commoner woman named Sylvia who had a son named Ilyas who had just turned 12. Sylvia had a horse named Grace who was kept at the Holder’s public stables and would take Ilyas to the stables with her every weekend after the morning services when she went to go ride Grace.
Sylvia had for a couple years now, tried to get Ilyas to try and ride Grace by himself, but he was always too scared to try to ride the horse without his mother. Every week without fail, Ilyas would decline his mother’s offer to ride Grace, but Sylvia would ask him every single week regardless. Everyone in the family could ride the horse, so Sylvia wanted Ilyas to learn to ride her as well. Ilyas also wanted to learn; he was just frightened to ride alone.
The old woman who worked weekends at the stables would always take her break to watch while the pair visited. She would sit on a nearby bench and eat her lunch as the pair rode around the ring on Grace and she would always look disappointed when Ilyas would decline the offer to ride the horse. For all the years Sylvia and Ilyas visited the stables, though, the old woman would never speak too much beyond pleasantries.
However, on one day that was a day like any other, Sylvia and Ilyas visited the stables as per usual and went through their routine. The old woman was watching just like always. When the two dismounted Grace, and Sylvia asked Ilyas if he wanted to try to ride her today, he responded as he always did.
“Mother, I’m scared to ride her alone.” he said.
“Don’t be scared, Ilyas. Just try and ride her.” his mother replied.
“But I am scared. I can’t not be!” he responded.
With the, the older woman who always watched the pair ride the horse called out to the young boy.
“Be scared, but ride her anyway!”
The mother and her son turned and looked at the old woman in surprise. The boy was especially shocked. He stared with his mouth agape, but after a moment, he nodded and turned to his mother.
“Mother, I want to try and ride Grace today.”
Sylvia beamed at her son. She was so happy. She helped Ilyas mount the horse and walked next to him as he rode slowly around the ring. When they were all done, Sylvia looked for the old woman to thank, but she had left. She wasn’t there the next week either, nor the week after. Sylvia continued to take Ilyas to the stables every weekend and he would ride the horse himself every time, but the old woman never returned.
Is the old woman supposed to represent something particular, like ancestors maybe?
I’m not really sure.
She probably is supposed to represent something along those lines, now that I think about it. I’ll ask about it the next time I have a chance.
The salt doll
A doll of salt, after a long pilgrimage on dry land, came to the sea and discovered something she had never seen and could not possibly understand. She stood on the firm ground, a solid little doll of salt, and saw there was another ground that was mobile, insecure, noisy, strange and unknown.
She asked the sea, “But what are you?” and it said, “I am the sea.” And the doll said, “What is the sea?” to which the answer was, “It is me.” Then the doll said, “I cannot understand, but I want to; how can I?” The sea answered, “Touch me.”
So the doll shyly put forward a foot and touched the water and she got a strange impression that it was something that began to be knowable. She withdrew her leg, looked and saw that her toes had gone, and she was afraid and said, “Oh, but where is my toe, what have you done to me?” And the sea said, “You have given something in order to understand.”
Gradually the water took away small bits of the doll’s salt and the doll went farther and farther into the sea and at every moment she had a sense of understanding more and more, and yet of not being able to say what the sea was. As she went deeper, she melted more and more, repeating: “But what is the sea?”
At last a wave dissolved the rest of her and the doll said: “It is I!”
One upon a time before written history…
There were two young siblings who got lost in one of histories greatest storms.
The storm, it was filled with ice and sleet. And it howled with unimaginable fierce across the land. It rendered mountains to dust; and trees, which stood up high against the dark clouds, were doomed to get grinded to shreds and pieces, should they ever flourish beyond a shy height.
The two siblings were lost in the dark coldness of a world without a sun. Because it took her five thousand four hundred and fourty days to travel the eternal wheel of life. But the siblings had seen far less days in the harsh lands they so fearfully roamed.
They fled. Alone. And the coldness loomed above, and death had its breath on their necks.
While they clinged to each other with frozen hands, they ran fast through the white forests and snow filled vales. And every breath hurt. And every step tired. And it was not before they pulled each other close and wrapped their arms around each other for comfort, when they realized a dark shape ahead between the trees and the storm. A gaping hole of black. A cavern’s opening in the wilderness.
The siblings entered in haste, panting in pain. There was noone to follow them. No parents anymore, no hunters anymore. Just the vast loneliness of a world of eternal winter.
While the wind was cast out from the cave, the cold lured them towards a blissful but deadly sleep. Relief was a treasonous friend. But in the complete darkness, their hands soon discovered something on the ground. What first felt like dry bones soon revealed itself as splinter and wood, stone and flint. And they lit a shy flame and kindled a makeshift torch.
Soon, as the bright light filled the cave, a dread discovery shook the younglings. The cave was made completely of crystal ice, blue like glass in a moonlit ocean. And trapped within, looming above, was the shape of a giant wolf, caught in mid-leap. Ready to devour the helpless but foolish who would dare to fuel the fire below for a night of warmth and ease. Already, first drops of ice started to melt from the fragile torch’s heat. And the wolf’s eyes glowed like orange suns.
“Mother”, the siblings cried, “safe us from this place of nightmare and misery!” But the mother’s name was only wind and howl, and she called to her children from outside the cave. The mother’s warmth was lost since the coming of winter. And though there was a memory of her cradling arms, she would not concede, she would not embrace. Her arms were the sleet and her breath a cold hatred.
And so, they eventually slept around the fire, arm in arm. Above them, the wolf awaited the breaking of glass. Outside, the wind screamed a banshee’s song. The siblings had nothing left except each other’s love. But they would not cry.
When the siblings awoke, they found themselves beneath a clear, yellow morning sky, cold and pure. The cave had melted away and gone was the dire wolf. With great wonder they arose from their makeshift bed of stones and tried to blink away the first rays of the sun they just wittnessed for the very first time in their life. Where had the wolf gone? How did the storm die?
Brother and sister squeezed each other’s hand to probe for dreaming. And when tey looked each other deeply into the eyes they suddenly realized where the wolf had gone and where the wind had retreated. And there was calmness over the land and there was calmness in their hearts. With deepest love and contentment, which belied their youth, they climbed the snowy hills beneath a warm sun, hand in hand. Searching for the highest spot, they eventually found a wolf and a mother guiding them from above among the numerous stars which answered their hearts’ calling. And they touched the stars and took a step beyond the mountain’s crest, vanishing into tomorrow and leaving a world in blossom behind.
Thank you for sharing. These stories were to me delightfully alien.
I’ll share a scary tale , that a caldari once told me.
There lived a young man named Saburo, who was born into a rich family of business owners. He fell in love with a girl named Otsuyu. Their love was a happy, pure and blossoming kind of love, like a beautiful peony flower. Their relationship became deeper as time went by, and soon they planned to be married.
One day, Saburo got severely ill, so severe that he couldn’t see Otsuyu for a long period of time. He tried to get well as soon as possible, because he missed her so much. When he got strong enough to leave the house, he went to search for Otsuyu, desperate to see her again.
He looked for her everywhere, but what he found was a very terrible news. He was told that Otsuyu had died some time during his absence.
A very heartbroken Saburo grieved her loss everyday. That year, on the Obon festival, he prayed for her soul to visit him.
As he went home on the night of the festival, he came across a beautiful lady and her maid. They were carrying a peony lantern. As the light of the peony lantern came upon the lady’s face, Saburo saw that she looked exactly like Otsuyu!
He ran up to her, not believing his eyes. But before he could even speak, tears welled up on the lady’s eyes, and she said, “They told me you died of your illness, my dear Saburo. I was so heartbroken that I asked my maid to come with me to get away from the town… But here you are, alive and well! I am so happy!”
Saburo was overwhelmed with joy. He hugged and kissed Otsuyu and he invited the two women to his house. That night, he held Otsuyu in his arms and they slept together (Otsuyu’s maid slept in the next room). They met every night since then.
One of the servants in his house became curious of his master’s visitors every night. One night, he decided to sneak a peek on Saburo’s room, and almost died of shock with what he saw.
Lying beside Saburo was a skeleton, moving and turning in its sleep, as if it’s really sleeping. He checked on the next room and found another sleeping skeleton, with two peony lanterns beside it. The servant ran to the temple and told the priest what he saw in Saburo’s house.
It turned out that Otsuyu and her maid died on their journey out of the town. Saburo’s aunt was behind all of it, because Otsuyu’s family was a business rival, and she was against the marriage so she decided to get rid of Otsuyu by tricking her into exile, using her grief on Saburo’s framed “death”.
The next day, the priest came to Saburo’s house and placed ofuda (talismans) around the house to keep out the ghosts of Otsuyu and her maid. Saburo was also prevented from going out of the house until the ghosts decide to give up on him.
Otsuyu and her maid waited outside of his house every night, and Otsuyu cried out his name every time, desperately calling out to him. Saburo suffered terribly because he realized he was going to be separated from Otsuyu again. “Please, I need to see her, please,” he begged his family and servants. He couldn’t lose her again. He refused to eat or sleep. His health deteriorated.
His family and his servants became very concerned about this, they were afraid that Saburo would die of heartbreak. They finally asked the priest to remove the talismans around the house. That night, the ghostly voice calling out Saburo’s name stopped. It was a very quiet night.
The next day, Saburo was found lying dead on his bed, his body entwined in a hug with a skeleton. In his face was a content smile, a smile that reflects perfect bliss.
This is a story with a moral, one that i think most Matari knows.
There once was a boy who was bored as he sat on the hillside watching the village children play. To amuse himself he took a great breath and sang out, “Amarr! Amarr! The Amarri is coming”
The villagers came running up the hill to help the boy drive the Amarri away. But when they arrived at the top of the hill, they found no Amarri. The boy laughed at the sight of their angry faces.
“Don’t cry ‘Amarr’, boy,” said the villagers, “when there’s no Amarri!” They went grumbling back down the hill.
Later, the boy sang out again, “Amarr! Amarr! The Amarri is coming!” To his naughty delight, he watched the villagers run up the hill to help him drive the Amarri away.
When the villagers saw no Amarri they sternly said, “Save your frightened song for when there is really something wrong! Don’t cry ‘Amarr’ when there is NO Amarr!”
But the boy just grinned and watched them go grumbling down the hill once more.
Later, he saw a REAL Amarri troop. Alarmed, he leaped to his feet and sang out as loudly as he could, “Amarr! Amarr!”
But the villagers thought he was trying to fool them again, and so they didn’t come.
At sunset, everyone wondered why the boy hadn’t returned to the village. They went up the hill to find the boy. They found him weeping.
“There really was amarri here!, now all the children have scatterd. I cried out, “Amarr!” Why didn’t you come?”
An old man tried to comfort the boy as they walked back to the village.
“We’ll help you look for the lost children in the morning,” he said, putting his arm around the youth, “Nobody believes a liar…even when he is telling the truth!”
Thanks for sharing! The Child who cried Slavers is indeed familiar, almost word for word.
During the occupancy of Saisio III, an army would quickly sweep into a town and take control. In one particular village, everyone fled just before the army arrived - everyone except the monastery master.
Curious about this old character, the general went to the temple to see for himself what kind of person this master was. As he went through the gate and onto the temple grounds he found the Monk standing there waiting to meet him.
The Monk greeted him warmly, as any other guest, and offered the General all of the hospitality the temple had to offer. When he wasn’t treated with the deference and submissiveness to which he was accustomed, the general burst into anger.
“You fool,” he shouted as he reached for his weapon,“Do you not realize that you are talking to a person who could kill you in the blink of an eye”? But despite the threat, the master seemed unmoved.
“And do you realize,” the master replied calmly, “that you are talking to a person who can be killed without blinking an eye”?
I am not even sure what the previous story is supposed to mean. Achurans are truly a mysterious, magical, occultic people.
It was more or less hammerd into us Ash children
Even if I disagree with some of her conclusions, Ms. Tsukiyo is a pretty reliable source for stories.
A monk’s life is spent focused on perfecting the soul; sects differ in what this means, but in both Ms. Tsukiyo’s understanding and mine this is about apprehending absolute reality. This means not only seeing but internalizing the illusory nature of this life we lead as “separate” beings. Seen this way, the general is merely threatening to return the monastery master to what he has always been from the beginning. It’s not much of a threat.
Really getting there is hard, though. Notice that the one remaining calmly is the monastery master, not his disciples, and also that this seems to be the first time the general (who presumably travels plenty) has met such a person.
Thank you for sharing the tales of your people, truly it was a delightful journey.
…I must wonder, is there any tale among your people that includes virtuous Amarr-Traitor like myself who risked their position for sake of your people?
It is an extremely unlikely proposal I know, but I wanted to know if is there a role model figure I can look up to, and marerial for naming my vessels.
Some Matari crewmembers shared a story with me a few years back… More of a myth, I think, talking animals and such. Not entirely sure what it means.
Once, there was a rat.
Yes, yes, I know, but that’s our protagonist, please bear with me.
Once there was a rat. And the rat had left the city for the woods to find a place free of the cats and such that had always hunted it. But without the city’s trash, food was hard to find. And as the rat was getting hungry, as luck would have it, he stumbled upon an eagle, sitting in a tree.
“Oh, noble eagle!” The rat cried “What a majestic creature you are, that flies so high above trees and clouds! So wonderful must it be to see with your keen eyes! I am a mere rat, a small nearsighted creature trapped close to the ground, and I cannot find any food. Would you help me? It would be easy for you to find food from above the forest, seeing all that lies nearby!”
“Wretched being!” Cried the eagle. “Pathetic and half blind! Know this, there is no greater thing than keen vision, nothing in life better than to see all that there is to see, no being so majestic as me, who can rise above all other beings of the woods and take all the forest in his sight. True greatness lies in great vision. Why debase myself by helping something as pathetic as you! Begone!”
Growing weak from hunger, the rat wandered near a brook, where a bear was walking.
“Oh, mighty bear!” the rat cried “How strong and massive you are, with such tremendous strength and sharp claws! I am a mere rat, small and weak and frail. I am starving because I cannot hunt for my food. Would you help me? You could bring down a great kill, no doubt, and could share even the smallest morsel of meat with me!”
“Tiny, weak, nothing of a beast!” Cried the bear. “Out here, strength rules supreme. Power decides who eats and who starves, strength of claw and fang alone determine your life’s worth, all else is excuses. And none in this wood are mightier than I, who dominate all who may cross my path. Greatness is claimed by strength and strength alone. Why even waste time on a weakling like you! Begone!”
Desperate now, the rat sought to fill his stomach with water from the brook, when he happened to notice a fish below the surface.
“Oh, mysterious fish!” cried the rat. “I have heard your kind have great schools of friends! How wonderful it must be to be surrounded by those who care for you! I am a mere rat, mangy, unloved and alone. I starve because no one will help me, as no one cares for me. Would you help me? Surely someone in your school will know of a place I can find food!”
“Lonely, lost thing!” cried the fish. “What good is life alone? What possible value can you have if none place value in you, if none deem you worthy of friendship? Companionship, that is greatness! The greatness of the many, of the sharing and the community! That which you do for your kin, knowing your kin will do for you in their turn! Everything else is hollow and cold. Why take from my school and help an outsider like you? Begone!”
“What nonsense!” said the eagle, who had been watching the rat. “You think greatness is in the approval of your fellow fish? Creatures trapped in the cold and the wet, seeing nothing beyond the rocks of the shores? Not even the forest is visible, just the puddle that is your prison.”
“You and your talk of vision, eagle, you don’t impress anyone.” said the bear. “You see lots, but can change nothing. Frail bird, what good is vision if you have no strength to change anything? All you do is watch!”
“Cruel brute!” shouted the fish. “What good is your strength if you are always alone? Can your might make the night less lonely, can your claws bring you companionship?”
“My claws can crush your entire school, weak morsel of seafood!” spat back bear.
“Ignorant beast!” sneered eagle. “Is savage cruelty all you know?”
“Are empty, lifeless skies all you know?” shouted fish.
Bear, enraged that weaker creatures mocked his strength, plunged into the brook and sank his teeth deep into the fish. Eagle, enraged by the bear’s callous, shortsighted cruelty, dove in and clawed at bear’s eyes. Fish’s friends splashed water to distract eagle and bear, hoping to free their friend. Bear, blinded and confused, clawed through the air and shattered eagle’s wing. Fish wiggled free, and fled.
And so, bear, blind and confused, could not find the shore again, and drowned.
And so, fish, bleeing badly, washed up against the shore and died.
And so, eagle, without his wing, slowly starved.
And so the rat feasted on flesh, and multiplied.
My Gran used to tell me this tale when I was a child and we were far from home; she was a kind and thoughtful woman…
The fire burned brightly in the great hall creating deep shadows against the wooden framework, a cool winters breeze flow through the open ornate doors. From inside the Hall looking out you could see the stars reflected on the great lake, it felt like the stars surrounded the hall for those allowed entry.
The six sat around the fire each talking, whispering and laughing. The sat on beautiful woven rugs decorated with the history of each tribe. One rug was empty and every now and then their yes would drift to the door.
“He’s late” announce Stark
“Always late” Sebiess smirked
“Well he has come a long way” said Nefan
“We all have to travel to get here, we should start” replied Brute
"Yes, let’s move along " whispered Kruss
“We will wait, He would wait for us” smiled Vheroka
“would he?” blinked Stark
A light flickered in the distance, it was a not a star but as bright, A boat floating on the lake
“See, here he comes now we are all gathered and can begin" Announced Sebiess
The man entered and smiled to the group, took his place. They talked about the tribes. thier future… they argued, laughed and at times some cried. For the Tribes had always suffered losses, some terrible losses.
Thukk hadn’t joined in the discussions really, he just nodded and smiled when he needed to, His gaze always drifting to the door and the sea.
The conversation slowly faded as the each turned their gaze to him, he turned startled and apologised.
Sebiess spoke, her eyes glistened with sadness “Its ok, you should go if you wish… we understand”
Thukk smiled “I love and trust you all, and I hope you do understand… but look to the Stars and you will see me, and leave the door open so I can always look back and see the fires of my home”
They watched the light float across the water and start to fade as it joined the stars on the horizon, some smiled, some frowned and one wept.