Brothers
Zille'mi had reaped many benefits from learning the humans' language. She would never have guessed how translating one's thoughts opened up entirely new perspectives. Perspectives about these strange, fascinating Vohlu, and perspectives about herself.
Currently though, what she was most grateful for was the additional vocabulary. Without it, Zille'mi would have never been able to so precisely identify her emotional state.
Zille'mi was
fretting.
Fretting. Fret-ting. Even the staccato bounce of the syllables fit her mood, this quiet, active worry that demanded she be
busy although she knew there was no benefit to taking further action. All was in place, the assigned lizardmen knew their roles, and moving now would only detract from the proceedings.
Still, she fretted.
The Vohlu were nearly all assembled in the large clearing now. They sat in rough semicircles on the soft earth, cross-legged and chatting idly between one another. Some otherwise unremarkable plant had come into seed recently, and bowls of this favourite snack were being passed back and forth, the fluffy white pods crunched into with obvious relish. Curiousity and confusion were the dominant expressions, but despite this there had been little difficulty in arranging the gathering. The lizardmen had earned enough goodwill that a couple of hours of time after sunset was no great request.
Behind her, lizards waited in utter stillness. Three kroxigors stood on each side of the southern edge of the clearing, facing each other in pairs. Each pair balanced a thirty foot wooden pole on their northern shoulders, and from those poles draped great sheets of bright cloth, hanging down to the white, limestone floor. Most of it was bright red, but the southernmost pair of kroxigor had a variety of poles to choose from, each featuring different cloths.
Zille'mi had been curious ever since the purchase of the elven cloth what use it could be put to. Truely, the foresight of the Slann was great beyond the scope of her vision.
Piecing this together had been the work of many years. Hours upon hours questioning Rheaminthys upon the finer points of the art. Years of time spent alongside the Vohlu, listening to their tradition of 'stories', assessing what concepts might best relate the Slann's intentions. The Slann, and no less Zille'mi, were determined to correct the mistake they had made when first approaching the Vohlu regarding agriculture. The Vohlu were intelligent and wise, but just like Zille'mi had lacked the perspective to know she was female, the Vohlu lacked the perspective to know what they could become. Tonight, Zille'mi would put the combined efforts of the lizardmen to bridge this void into fruition.
And with impeccable timing, the sun finally slid far enough below the horizon to plunge the clearing into deep shadow. Zille'mi drew back the hood of the 'storyteller's robe' Rheaminthys had assured her was required, and with a gentle breath of
aqshy lit torches surrounding the clearing and in front of the stage. Equally subtle application of
hysh amplified the light of the torches until the entire set was well lit. Zille'mi turned, and spoke the words she had rehearsed thousands of times, for the only time that mattered.
"Welcome, Vohlu. We wish to tell you a story."
Behind her, the northern pair of Kroxigor gently pulled their curtain open, and the Vohlu leaned forward with fascinated eyes.
***
"Once, long ago, there was a family. A Mother, a Father, and a young Son."
From stage left arrived two kroxigors, X'el and P'ar'pa'ant each wearing white robes cut from sailcloth, and upon their shoulders large, six foot tall bronze-and-gold cages. Intricate glyphwork decorated the outside of these cages, hand-smithed by Xilotl to careful shape. The overall effect was that of two massive beings with heads of gold, clearly resembling both lizardmen and Vohlu, yet matching neither.
They walked out to center stage then turned, and gestured behind them, and a young skink in matching white garb hurried after them, the three continuing together.
"The Mother and Father were builders, and they built a home for themselves and their Son."
On stage, the two kroxigors pantomimed digging and chiseling, as one backdrop of leafy green fell, and another painted with murals of well-made huts took its place.
"They were good parents, and raised their son well. They taught him to live well in the jungle. They taught him how to build fine huts, and bow-fish in the river, and how to hunt the tusk-pigs without being hunted in turn. They taught him how to fight the great beasts that might prey upon him."
Walks back and forth across the stage were used to show the passage of time, and the first skink 'son' was replaced by a larger skink, then a small saurus, then a larger saurus, and finally by Moa'na'tun, last living member of an ancient blessed saurus spawning, fully two feet taller than most saurus. When Moa'na'tun appeared, he was garbed as a successful Vohlu hunter, draped in fine furs and skins and carrying a massive bow.
"When he was grown, the Mother and Father spoke to him."
"Son." said the skink handler Mikra'xaf, from his perch in the cage atop X'el's head. "You have grown well. It is our duty to raise more Children, and build more homes. We are going to find new places to do this. Live well. One day, you may meet your Siblings. Watch for them."
"I will, Mother." said Moa'na'tun, pacing his words perfectly to the approved three-point-eight syllables per second.
"And so the Mother and Father left," said Zille'mi, gesturing behind her as backdrops rose and fell. "And they had further Children, and built them homes. They had a Daughter, for whom they made a home beside the sea."
A skink on the shoulders of another skink, concealed beneath a long white robe, did their best to move gracefully across the stage.
"They had a Younger Son, who found his place beneath the earth."
A cavern back-drop, and a saurus crouched beneath their robe to half their height, an enormous plume of nuum feathers hanging from their chin.
"Each of these they raised well, and taught to live well in their homes."
"At long last, they arrived back in the jungles, not so very far from where they began. They had one further Son, their youngest Child."
Here X'el and P'ar'pant appeared again, this time trailed by the skink P'ter'pat, one of Zille'mi's best students.
"But though they wished to build him a home, and raise him well too, this was not to be. Soon after his birth, a great flood came."
A line of skinks began running across the stage, holding a long curtain of blue cloth above their heads as the 'water' rushed by.
"The Mother and Father knew they were lost. With the last of their strength, they pushed their Child to safety."
Here X'el reached down and picked up P'ter'pat, hurling them off stage left, where they were gently caught by a handful of saurus. X'el and P'ar'pant then half-walked, half-tumbled off stage right, flailing as they went.
Zille'mi internally nodded in satisfaction. Teaching the kroxigors the concept of 'moderate, controlled flailing' had been the single greatest challenge of the production. Many mock sets had been lost before X'el had learned to control his Death Roll instinct.
"The Youngest Son might have died a thousand, thousand ways." Zille'mi continued. "So young, he would not even remember his parents when he was older. He did not know how to bow-fish in the river. He did not know how to build huts. He did not know how to hunt the tusk-pigs before they hunted him. Most of all, he did not know how to fight the great beasts that hunted him."
P'ter'pat made their way onto the stage, now in robes made from grain-sack cloth, looking about nervously.
"And yet. He did not die."
"The Youngest Son lived, and fought to live. He did not know which plants were good to eat, and so he ate them all, one at a time, and learned by becoming sick which were bad."
Winces, and audible murmurs of sympathy from the Vohlu at P'ter'pat's pantomimed agony.
"He had little food, and so could not grow large. But where he was not large enough to hunt, he survived by cleverness. He designed traps and snares to catch his food, and learned to avoid the great beasts who hunted, since he could not fight.
A different P'ter'pat, now - still clothed in sack-cloth, but with a semblance of shape, and draped in thin cords, carrying a wooden walking stick.
"Then one day, everything changed."
Here Moa'na'tun re-entered, the skink and saurus freezing as they 'saw' each other across the stage.
....two, three, four, Zille'mi counted in her head-
CLUNKCLunkclunkclunkunkunk, went Moa'na'tun's bow and P'ter'pat's staff, as skink and saurus simultaneously dropped their tools in 'shock'.
Another internal nod.
Perfect, thought Zille'mi.
"I do not know you, and I am wary." said P'ter'pat, body half-turned between Moa'na'tun and the Vohlu.
"But I know you, Young One. My Mother and Father told me to watch for my siblings, and today I see one before me. You are my Brother, and I am yours." said Moa'na'tun, once again paced to exaction. Zille'mi was really most pleased.
"I do not have a Mother and Father." said P'ter'pat, "I am alone."
"This is not so." said Moa'na'tun, "at least, it was not. I felt our Mother and Father leave this world long ago, when you were very young. It is not surprising you do not remember."
"Were they a good Mother and Father?", asked P'ter'pat.
"They were. They taught me many things. Come. I will show you." said Moa'na'tun.
Zille'mi spoke once more as the saurus and skink walked offstage and back again, 'arriving' at Moa'na'tun's home.
"And they did so." she said, her voice carrying across the clearing, "And the Youngest Son saw the Eldest Son's fine hut, and the many fish he caught from the river. They ate of tusk-pig together, which the Youngest Son had never tasted, because he did not know how to hunt them."
"I wish you to come live beside me, so that we may prosper together." said Moa'na'tun.
"I do not think that is wise." said P'ter'pat, "I am not strong like you. I cannot build these huts, or catch fish, or hunt tusk-pigs. I catch only enough food for myself, and I am small. If we lived beside each other, I could not do as you do, and things would not be equal between us. It is better that we live apart."
"I do not agree." said Moa'na'tun. "You are strong. Mother and Father could not teach you to build fine huts, or bow-fish in the river, yet still, you found food. Yet still, you found shelter. Yet still, you survived. I am larger than you. But this is because I ate well, first when Mother and Father fed me, and later when I used what they taught me. I am not stronger than you. Only larger."
"But you are still large, and I am still small." said P'ter'pat. "You still can do what I cannot."
"That matters not." said Moa'na'tun. "I can teach you to build, and fish, and hunt. I can help you eat well. One day, you will be as large as I, and we will help each other equally."
"That will take a long time." said P'ter'pat. "Why would you do this?"
"Because you are my family." said Moa'na'tun. "Mother and Father loved you as they loved me. And because the great beasts wander the jungle at night, and I would like a Brother to stand beside when they come. Will you live beside me? Will you learn from me, and grow large, and one day stand beside me against the great beasts?"
Zille'mi let the
hysh-light illuminating the stage fade, leaving only herself still visible.
***
The murmurs were quiet at first, then grew louder, until eventually /Vesa stood, voice harsh with upset.
"But what happened? That's not the end of a story - tell us how it ends!"
Zille'mi looked at the Vohlu, and spoke simply.
"We do not know how it ends. Because we are the Eldest Son. Our Mother and Father are the Old Ones, our creators. You are the Youngest Son. And we do not know your answer."
"So please," said Zille'mi, her throat strangely tight,"tell us your answer. We too wish to know the story's end. Will you learn from us, and grow large, and stand beside us against the great beasts of this world?"
"Will you live beside us as Brothers?"
A/N: I've been mulling over the question of how to approach the Vohlu for awhile now, given the difficulties we've previously had due to their different perspective (i.e., the Agriculture fail). Eventually I realized that the lizardmen actually have a tool in their arsenal to help bridge the gap, one they've already employed - plays, as brought to them by the elves. And once I had that idea, well...it kinda wrote itself.
I want to uplift the Vohlu (and all the other humans we can rope in) into an ally against chaos, but it's important to me that we approach the humans as equals
, right from the get-go. I want to make clear to the Vohlu that what we desire is an alliance
, and that we're completely happy for that alliance to be unequal as the Vohlu grow, because we're patient, immortal lizards, and also because we trust the Vohlu to put as much back into the alliance as they can without hindering their growth.
I think a good early 'ask' for us from the Vohlu would be that a few of them act as ambassadors for us to other human tribes. We can figure out further contributions they can make as they grow larger.
