Tag: law

#Lore24 – Entry #164 – Wild West Month #12 – Followers of the Sister Goddess Lashana

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

It is told that during the Great Uproar, when the spirits of the world were still angry after they freed themselves and us from the Devil-Wardens, that chaos was everywhere.  Our ancestors who survived this chaos say that during the early days, when the land was still not settled, there were those who sought ways to bring order to the chaos who were not of the Kerra-Kerra.  These were the followers of the Sister Goddess Lashana, so called because she is as a sister to the Great Mother Saressh.

Great Sister Lashana called her people to the far eastern shores, beyond the Great Walls that would stand through the Uproar, and it is there they would gather the survivors who were agreeable to their faith to work together to survive.  To Great Sister Lashana, there must be order, and to have order, there must be laws, and so it is that those who are most faithful to her, the Justicars, try to spread law to the lawless and hunt down those who would break it. 

We rarely see the Justicars in our lands, though as more moons pass, their numbers have grown more common.  With the coming of the Howling Steel Chariots, those who the Justicars seek have spread to our lands, and so too have the Justicars who hunt them.  The Kerra-Kerra people handle those who wrong us in our own ways, though some tribes have taken to capturing the chaos-bringers and turning them over to the Justicars.

For now, we see the Justicars and those who follow the Great Sister Lashana as allies, though in recent times, some have disagreed with the ways of our people, and some no longer recognize that our goddesses are as sisters.  Siblings do squabble at times, so perhaps it is to be that our peoples too will squabble, though we hold no special hatred for them.  In the Lands Beyond the Great Walls, their laws are supreme, and here, we live free.  Freedom is as chaos to some, and so there will always be disagreement.

#Lore24 – Entry #146 – Muckenmyre Month #25 – Inside the House of the Lady of Justice

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris, Town Marshal of Grimbridge.

Entering into the temple, I found the interior to be somewhat sparse and simple in decoration, seeing Lashana’s symbol on display prominently on the wall hangings, but the actual area of worship reminded me more of a court room, with several rows of simple benches for seating, a box not unlike that a judge would sit behind instead of a more typical pulpit, even tables set before it like those that would be used by two parties presenting their cases, though these were currently filled with unremarkable pewter and silver candle holders, bowls, and the like.  I could see a trial being held here, and later, I would learn that was exactly what it was used for at times.

My eyes then went to the gray stone effigy of Lashana that stood above the altar, about ten feet tall, appearing as a human woman, eyes hidden by a red silk blindfold, wearing unremarkable robes while holding a scabbarded bastard sword in her hands, the scales upon the pommel balanced while large braziers bathed her in their light from either side.  I couldn’t exactly say then why I felt my heart racing as I looked upon her image and wouldn’t understand the reason until much later.

I was approached by a dwarven man after a few moments when I did not move from the doorway, his robes gray but fringed with a trio of silver threaded bands at the wrists and similar scrollwork on his chest and the collar of the robes.  His hair was brown and had more gray than not, the same with his neatly trimmed beard, and he wore silver-framed spectacles low on his nose.  He greeted me directly, introducing himself as Justicar of the Temple Detran Grayforge, asking if I sought justice, knowledge, vengeance, or perhaps a confession.  My confusion must have been plain upon my face, and certainly I couldn’t immediately form a response, for he then smiled and bid me to follow him to one of the benches to explain what it was that brought me into the Lady’s house.

I explained the business which had brought me to Ryanathyr specifically, which he seemed to heartily approve of, calling it “the Lady’s Work”, but then I explained that I was not of these lands and had come from the Empire, his visage darkening, and then rolled up my sleeve to reveal my slave brand, admitting that I knew nothing of Lashana, had only heard her name a few minutes before.  I sensed that some kind of anger had welled up in him, but he quickly hid it, rising and bidding me to follow him.  He led me behind the altar and into some of the private chambers reserved for confessions, retrieved a pitcher of water and cups for us, and we began to speak of why Lashana was not worshiped in my homeland.

I could not believe his words at first, my mind, long trained to reject such thoughts, immediately sounding the alarm bells of heresy.  The story he told me of the Great Cataclysm made no sense, contradicted most of what I had been taught, especially regarding the role the kerryn played in the events that lead to the upheaval of the world.  How could I believe that we were not responsible for the great breaking, that our goddess had been taken from us through treachery and conspiracy by demons, deities, and mortals alike?  He told me that our people had continued to fight on in the face of madness that swept through most of our priesthood when our goddess fell, against the Elvish Dominion that sought our downfall for our alliance with the long-extinct aerian people, that we had tried to stop the very cataclysm that we are blamed for within the Empire.  To add more to my confusion, he also told me that not everyone sees history in such a way, that the Elvish Greathouses tell a different story, that their accounts support the idea that the kerryn were the ones who brought forth the demons, that many more have their own histories that muddle the truth.  Lashana herself is quite clear on the matter, however, for she witnessed the downfall of Saressh, and this great injustice is what she seeks to avenge, and why she cannot be worshipped within the Empire.

So many things had just been told to me, so many contradictions to the truths I had been taught from birth, the facts of life that I knew to be just that.  I had never conceived that there could be another point of view, that I may have been lied to by the very Emperor I served with my utmost devotion.

It took some time before I realized that he had told me the name of the kerryn mother goddess, and that this was the first time I had ever heard her name. 

Saressh. 

I was completely overwhelmed by this point, feeling as if my entire world had suddenly collapsed.  I could detect no deception in Justicar Grayforge’s words, no signs that he was trying to deceive me for some other purpose.  I had tears in my eyes, running down my face to fall upon my hands.  He laid a hand upon my shoulder, offered a prayer to Lashana to give me strength, to light my way in this time of vulnerability. 

I’m not sure how long it took for me to recover from my initial shock, but once I had regained control of my faculties, I excused myself, for I did not want to worry Satella.  I had far too much weighing in my mind now that I had to sort through, and it would take a long time for me to do so.  He understood, wished me the best on my journey, and said that I would be in his prayers, that I would be welcome within Lashana’s temple should I need a place to go.  Before he saw me to the door, though, he offered me a parting gift, a small book that explained Lashana’s faith, the nature of her justice, and of the Great Injustice she sought to remedy. 

I thanked him, holding the book to my chest once I departed.  I found Satella sitting nearby, and she immediately came to me, embracing me, for she could tell I was unsettled.  After enjoying the comfort of her embrace for some moments, I thanked her, and we made our way back toward the inn; it was already dark beneath the trees, though the sky above showed the sun was just now setting. 

As we approached the inn, my thoughts churning with uncertainty and many questions I had never before thought to ask, my heart nearly leapt from chest as we came upon the square near the inn.  My ears rose, and I froze in place, daring not even to breathe, for I heard voices speaking in a language I had not heard since I set out on my ill-fated voyage to the Dragon Isles.

It was the secret language of the Stellae Illustris.

#Lore24 – Entry #129 – Muckenmyre Month #8 – Ashleyra the Witch of the Swamp

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

In my mess of thoughts concerning my future that night, as dawn approached, I became aware of a subtle shift in the air outside.  From my window, in the faint light of the lanterns hanging along the Span, I could see that not a soul moved at this hour, and that a fog was coming in, spreading rapidly from the north, from the depths of the Muckenmyre itself.  I knew immediately that this was not natural, could feel the magic in the air as the gray enveloped the town.  Immediately on alert, I eased silently from my bed to peer more closely at the gathering fog.  To my surprise, I heard movement in the house; the mayor was already awake, and in moments, he stepped lightly through the front room and out the door, dressed for the day, it seemed, and headed toward the Span. 

Curious by virtue of my inquisitor’s nature, immediately suspicious of a plot of some kind, I waited until the mayor had neared the Span and slipped out of my window, my bare feet silent upon the slightly muddy stones.  Keeping low and using the fog to my advantage, I hurried to follow the mayor, easily tracking his path.  Spotting the watch towers as I cleared the row of houses, I could see the night watch still in place, none of them seemingly aware that the fog wasn’t natural, none more alert of a possible attack. 

As I came upon the Span, I saw movement upon the river, a single flatboat coming down the side closer to the far end of the Span.  The fog had obscured it to some extent, but I could make out a single figure upon it, wearing an earthy-colored cloak that obscured their features.  As they neared a small dock, I saw something else move over the bundles and bags that filled the boat, a reddish-colored muskrat, running excitedly back and forth.  I likewise spotted the mayor and three others coming down the steps, lanterns in hand, two assistants from the general store, and the woman I recognized as the town’s herbalist, though I had yet to introduce myself to her. 

I continued silently and quickly through the fog-shrouded street along the Span, picking up snippets of conversation, thought he fog had a muffling effect, and I could make out nothing of what was said.  As I rounded the far end of the Span and came up behind some crates that were stacked near the platform at the top of the stairs leading from the dock, I could finally hear the mayor and the herbalist speaking softly, an unfamiliar, female voice answering.  It seemed they were discussing trade of some kind. I peered around the crates, watching as the assistants unloaded the flatboat, though my eyes were drawn to the newcomer.  Curiously I could not see her face, even in the lantern light, though I saw the faint, reddish glow coming from her eyes, the tips of curling horns poking from her hood, and the gentle swaying of a pointed tail around her legs.  A mazoku, the first I had seen since my arrival in Grimbridge.

As the last of the cargo was removed from the boat, I noticed the muskrat again, having climbed atop some of the bags that had been brought onto the docks, its eyes suddenly focusing upon me, its head cocking curiously to one side.  A heartbeat later the conversation had stopped, and I felt the mazoku’s eyes fall upon me, and then she called out to me. 

“Fear not, newcomer; I was aware of your arrival from the moment you first came to these shores.  If you come with no ill-intent, then please, join us, for I would quite like to meet one who has survived such an ordeal, one from the far Empire.”

My fur bristled at having been spotted; I knew then that the muskrat was not natural, and would momentarily discover it was a familiar, and the stranger was known as Ashleyr, the Witch of the Muckenmyre.  I did not hesitate once I had been spotted, for I sensed no danger, and made my way down the steps.  I bowed in deferential greeting, and silent apology, to those gathered here, aware that the assistants had began loading other bags and crates upon the boat.  The mayor made introductions, to the herbalist, an older half-elven woman named Cardiane, and even to the muskrat, Thornton, who was now nibbling on some sweet treat he’d gotten from somewhere.

Ashleyr extended her hand, and once I had taken it, she held to it with remarkable strength, for she was shorter and lighter of build than me, turning it so that she could see my slave brand.  Without need of being told, I showed her the one on my other forearm; she took a few moments to examine them, running her fingers over them, seemingly tracing their lines, then nodded and thanked me; I had steeled myself, though, my training preparing me to resist any magic that may be placed upon me, though none came. 

I still could not make out the details of her face but for her faintly glowing eyes, even this close.

She told me that she came to town at least once every couple of months, trading mostly herbs, potions, and other rare materials from the depths of the swamp in return for things she needed, though preferred early-morning visits, when fewer eyes would be upon her, for not everyone took well to her kind, especially not a witch such as she.  I inquired as to whether she was associated with the Witches of the Ways, for I had encountered them in my homeland.  I could hear her smile as she spoke, confirming that she was, though she was far more aloof than her sisters, for her home was the heart of the swamp itself, and the place of power that stood there.  I did not inquire further about this, for it did not seem to be my place to do so.

Our conversation was short, ending once her boat had been filled.  She expressed a desire to speak with me at some length in the future but did not wish to linger longer than necessary.  She announced that I was welcome in the swamp, but that I should not take that to mean I should not be wary of its many dangers.  She then bid farewell to the mayor, the herbalist, and myself and made her way back upon the flatboat, her familiar hurrying to follow.  As she departed back up the slow-moving river, the fog followed her, disappearing as suddenly as it had come.

Offering another apology to the mayor for my actions, though I caught myself before I suggested he punish me, for I knew by now that he would tolerate no such talk, I instead offered my help in carrying the goods Ashleyr had brought as my way of making amends.  This he seemed to accept without complaint, and so I made myself useful.  I am no stranger to hard labor, so carrying these bundles and boxes was no trouble, and I daresay that I was better at it than even his store workers.  If nothing else, it was a gauge of how well I had recovered, and thankfully, it seemed, I was very nearly fully healed.

As we returned to his home for another hour or two of sleep before the day’s work began, I expressed my interest in finding some kind of work within the town, as a way to repay the hospitality they had shown me, and to start earning my way properly, given that I was no longer anyone’s property.  Saying such a thing still felt entirely wrong, and internally I was feeling as though I had willfully committed some great act of betrayal to my Emperor, but what choice did I have?  Surely his kindness had its limits, and I would not be wise to overstay my welcome so far from home. 

#Lore24 – Entry #128 – Muckenmyre Month #7 – Proper Punishments in Grimbridge

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

My condition continued to improve as the next few days passed, my body returning to proper form through frequent exercise and excellent food, thanks to Satella.  I assisted with all the chores I could of course, still feeling that I must at least do something in return for all the care she and Mayor Pleasence had given me.  I saw little of him during these days, as he was busy with handling both town matters and his own business, the town general store, but he continued to insist that our presence in his home was no trouble, that he was in fact grateful to come home to a warm meal for the first time since the passing of his wife several years prior.  It was during these days that Satella had given me this journal, encouraging me to record my thoughts since my arrival in Grimbridge. 

I’ve also cleaned and oiled my collar and cuffs, damaged though they are, for they are the last vestiges of my life in the Empire, and I must continue to honor my Emperor as best I can until I can return.  I still feel ill at ease without them, naked in spite of any clothing I may wear, still have moments where I realize that they’re missing and find my hands groping for them.  Yet…even though it’s barely been two weeks since I awoke here, I have noticed that these moments are coming less and less frequently. I am concerned by this…I should be collared, whether or not I bear the markings of a slave trainer or the Stellae Illustris, yet there are indeed no other slaves in Grimbridge, and the very concept of such a thing is nigh unfathomable here.  The town smith has not a single collar in his inventory, and the only proper restraints are housed within the town jail.

I requested that Satella assist in my punishment for neglecting the care of my gear for so long, for she could inflict the required pain much more efficiently than I could myself.  She eagerly agreed, and I quickly disrobed and lowered myself to my knees before her, offering her my crossed wrists for binding.  Her smile became cruel, the kind of look I expected to see, and I prepared myself for the pain that was to come.

She took each wrist in turn, slapping them lightly with two fingers, barely even hard enough for me to feel them, let alone cause any of the pain I required for my transgressions.  She then declared my punishment finished, hoped that I had learned my lesson, and bid me to put my clothes back on, her usual cheerful smile back upon her face.

Her response left me speechless, too stunned to redress myself for several minutes, and for a time, I thought perhaps she was making fun of me.  It would be her right, of course, but I would later understand that she simply didn’t see my lack of proper slave gear as a punishable offense.  I still struggle to understand that the Empire’s ways are not the ways of this land, and I am not expected to adhere to them.  I remained in my room much of the rest of that day, holding my broken collar, weighing the thoughts that now filled my mind, thoughts unbecoming of a slave, especially one in my position with my responsibilities. 

At dinner, when I inquired with Mayor Pleasence (though he insists I call him by his first name, as he is an authority in this town, I cannot bring myself to do so, for it wouldn’t be proper) about his stance on punishment for my behavior, he said that Satella was probably too harsh on me.  He had said it deadly serious, as he often is, but the slight twitch of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes, told me that he had meant it in a joking manner.  He then clarified that there would be no punishments the law didn’t require, and there were laws against owning slaves here, not for punishing them.  I caught myself apologizing for my ignorance, and the subject was quickly dropped with his promise that he would get a copy of the local laws for me to study after dinner.

And study them I did, reading through them several times, committing them to memory.  I was indeed shocked to see the declaration that slavery was illegal, that there were no provisions regarding treatment of kerryns, or any other races for that matter, and that most punishments involved fines, public humiliation, or jail time mixed with enforced labor, with more severe punishments requiring time in prison, with only the most severe transgressions recommending execution.  Torture was mentioned briefly, stating that in certain circumstances it was allowed, but I generally got the impression it was frowned upon.

It seemed strange to me that the town’s laws were so lax in comparison to those within the Empire.  However, even if I find their ways unusual, I must still abide by them to the best of my ability.  I wonder if I will be able to fully embrace them, though?  I am having more thoughts that a slave should not have, more questions unbecoming of a Stellae Illustris, of an Inquisitor, of a loyal servant of the Emperor, may He live forever.  My thoughts are heavy this night; I likely will find little sleep once more.