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Sworn to the Scythe: A Peasant Quest

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[X] Be as smart as the baba when it comes to her questions. Focus on answering questions as crisply and correctly as possible.
 
[X] Be as smart as the baba when it comes to her questions. Focus on answering questions as crisply and correctly as possible.
 
[X] Be as smart as the baba when it comes to her questions. Focus on answering questions as crisply and correctly as possible.
 
[X] Be as smart as the baba when it comes to her questions. Focus on answering questions as crisply and correctly as possible.
 
[X] Be as fierce as the Haakwai when she tries to get a rise or embarrass you. Don't insult her, but be upright in the face of her attempts to cow you.
 
[X] Be as fierce as the Haakwai when she tries to get a rise or embarrass you. Don't insult her, but be upright in the face of her attempts to cow you.
 
[X] Be as calm as the ironwood tree in the face of anything she throws at you. Don't actively push her buttons, but don't let her push yours either.
 
Okay, the last time I clicked the link in Cetashwayo's profile, this seemed kinda dead, but hey, it's back, so I can vote.

And from what I've seen of Vashti so far, well... the third option might be the smartest one, but it isn't the vasthiest one. So:

[x]Be as fierce as the Haakwai when she tries to get a rise or embarrass you. Don't insult her, but be upright in the face of her attempts to cow you.
 
Focusing overmuch on getting things correct seems like it'll make us get anxious and stumble, the point is to stick up for ourselves non-abrasively.

[x] Be as fierce as the Haakwai when she tries to get a rise or embarrass you. Don't insult her, but be upright in the face of her attempts to cow you.
 
[X] Be as fierce as the Haakwai when she tries to get a rise or embarrass you. Don't insult her, but be upright in the face of her attempts to cow you.
Vashti is very ambitious and fiery-spirited, so we should use an approach that works with that. While she will need to learn how to be calm and wise eventually, right now she is still very young, and Halacha will probably help us learn those traits later down the line. By showing Halacha Vashti's fierceness, we are showing her who Vashti really is, which not only proves that she is worth teaching, but will also help Halacha figure out the best method for teaching her.
 
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So an update; I have not let this die. I'm going to be gone for two weeks, but I'll be going to my home and native land of Serbia so I'll be combing for inspiration there. @Crilltic's excellent Upon This Sword of Fire is also giving me some inspiration.
 
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Supplement: The Notational Form
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    • Supplement: DISCOVERY OF THE NOTATIONAL FORM
    ​
    Written in 754 AA, Proctor Yolman's investigations into the matter of the notational form are famous for both the complexity and brilliance of the discovery. Although the notational form is not available to all ears, Yolman's careful research has been able to confirm its existence. Since that time many texts have been discovered to have notational negatives, revealing a second poem or song lying underneath it. Some modern compositions use notational form because of its ability to create excellent melodies, but the use is regulated by the Order of the Purple Flute, which deals with these kinds of musical compositions.

    In 767 AA, the Sanhedron formally praised Yolman for his efforts at notational translation, and accepted the notational negative as part of the larger esoteric meaning of particular holy psalms. Sadly, a peculiar form of weeping sickness affecting his ears robbed the proctor of his life before his time.     ​

    here is a tongue older than any known to man that it is said was, in olden days, spoken by all. I speak not to some hackneyed tale of a time when all was one language, but to a time when there was no language at all. Oh, indeed, there was a tongue, but it was not a language; to call it that would be to besmirch its name.

    The beauty of this tongue was indescribable, for it was not composed of words but of simple melodies, symphonies, dirges. It was the language of music. Many men will doubt my words. They will say to me "you are wrong, that is not how it was", and I will tell them to look simply at the nature of our own language, Vasparak.

    Each letter of Vasparak corresponds exactly to a note. I do not mean in our current musical system, which is like the sign language of the wicker man and the deaf, in that it is designed for those without an ear. I mean to those willing to hear it, this language is theirs for the taking, and it each note is a letter of Vasparak, for a total of twenty-nine possible notes. I have no ear for this, and can hear at best eleven or twelve, like some fat-fingered child playing my first instrument.

    There are those, however, and they have been appearing in increasing frequency (a different matter to be brought up with the theological school in Harasdad, as they have noticed this trend) that have a gift that is beyond my comprehension. Before, when we saw this, we assumed that it was simply simple extreme talent. The composers who could create music to make us quake in our seats from emotion, the artists with the most exact strokes so as to stir the deepest emotions, but something different is happening. I do not know why God has decided to give us this, but more and more of our country has been provided with this…advantage.

    It of course manifests itself in different forms. Every man has read in the newspapers about the exploits of the Night Brigade, able to hunt their prey in the darkness as if they were panthers. Everyone knows of course of the benighted Grand Mare, whose terrible mist of Gongoros prevents any ship from entering. What an awesome power, theirs is, and yet few have been able to make the connection to our own, as I would describe it, revolution.

    The hunger that this provides, and the isolation, is unparalleled; it is as if one learned ancient Bubarani or some other dead language, and could create wondrous poetry in it, but no one could read it. What is a man to do? I knew a boy like this, and he is the topic of this exploration, who could differentiate the hidden twenty-nine notes. But what shook me, what kept me up at night, was not that he was able to differentiate these notes, but what he heard with these notes.

    Each and every composition was in a sense composed of these, but they usually amounted to gibberish. But the melody, the perfect melody, was one which was composed of these letters and was coherent. And what I was, and am afraid of, is that when I had the boy sing a traditional melody codified by the priests during the time of Amalgast, I hear this perfect melody.

    I have been stonewalled at every turn at trying to understand this. Later melodies may sound beautiful, but do not have this kind of "notational form", for lack of a better word. The ominous nature of these translations also give me pause. Observe six verses of the song "For Better days":

    For Better Days
    We flee the Sun
    For Better Days
    We kiss the Moon
    For Better Days
    We hunt the night

    The song as it is describes the early experience of Amalgast, when night raiding was a common occurrence. We all know the stories of these days, the desperate times when he had been defeated by the Gushans and had to flee eastwards back to Warabad while hunted by outriders. What was he do? What I am concerned of is that the history of the song is closed off to me, and the priests I have talked to refuse to disclose its origin. From what I can gleam, the first time it was sung was not at that time, but some fifty years earlier, as seen in the text published by Mukhan in his Old History:

    "They [the rebels in one revolt before Amalgast] spoke of Better days, and wrote a song based upon this that became popular later."

    But I have only been able to find this version in the Heresiarchy. Versions of Mukhan's Old History in the Patriarchate do not have this line, and instead translate Mukhan's Rashi dialect into High Vasparak as "better times", but I know that this cannot be the correct translation, because "times" has a very different root. I talked to a scholar from Ain Kalanu who confirmed this; there is simply no way that the translation was correct.

    I do not mean to accuse my distinguished scholars of some kind of bad faith, in this respect, but I am concerned of what may be some kind of attempt to hide the hidden meaning. On the other hand, I am not aware of anyone who has undertaken a quest similar to mine. Of course, this would all be pointless if not for the specific translation of the text into its notational form:

    BUILD HIM/HIGH ABOVE THE CLOUDS/IN MY KINGDOM/HE IS

    As we can see, this is an incomplete verse. It is reminiscent of the text from the fourth holy book, from the passage 14:56:12:

    "The ground trembled in such a manner as to quake, and He spoke to his servant, who was Amalgast, and He said to him, "Go in my name, and build in my kingdom, above the clouds, your patrimony."

    There are a number of interpretations of this passage. I am not sure about any of them, but Mukhan's interpretation is of relevance to us, for we can quote here:

    "Above the Clouds- The Holy one, blessed be he, means to say in the Land of Heaven, for Amalgast was destined to be God's aspect alongside Simurgh".

    But Mukhan's interpretation does not exactly make sense with what we have. "Build Him?" What is that meant to mean? Few sages can have the answer, since the letter used can be interpreted in a number of different fashions.

    However, we do have another passage from "For Better Days". For most of the verses we have mostly gibberish, but here it becomes coherent again in notational form:

    The river's mist
    Is our sacred shroud
    The scorpion's fin
    Is our holy sword

    Which translates into notational form into:

    KOKOSHKIN/THE WORLD/ABOVE THE BIRTH

    Which gives us in full form from the poem:

    BUILD HIM
    HIGH ABOVE THE CLOUDS
    IN MY KINGDOM
    HE IS KOKOSHKIN
    THE WORLD
    ABOVE THE BIRTH

    From here we may be stalled, but I was able to get a different translation of For Better Days, which seems to "unscramble" one of the other passages.

    The blanket of night
    Will be our shield

    This translates to:

    OUR TOTEM

    What does this mean? I cannot say. It is highly unusual. I would like to a great deal more research on this matter, but unfortunately I seem to have attracted unwanted attention as a result of my studies. My seal allowing me access to the Grand Archive in Nachivan was recently revoked as result of "frivolity", and I hope that this is evidence enough to show that it should be restored. What I have found here along with my boy is that we have uncovered a secret language, a "parallel" script that if we use the right notation can translate into another message.

    I believe that this message can be of great usefulness to the Patriarchate. Who is Kokoshkin? Who is "our" that is referred to here? Where is "The Birth"? Is that the birth of Amalgast? One would assume it would then mean Warabad, but there is nothing above the clouds in Warabad. Is this referring to the civic totem that is used by the city? But that is in the lowest point in the square. It can't mean "above the clouds" by any interpretation, even assuming we use an esoteric explanation as has become the fashion.

    One more piece of information can be of service. The boy I was using for this translation has recently become erratic in his behavior. Seeking to understand why, I asked him what was wrong. He asked for a pen and paper and wrote down a melody, and then we translated it; he explained he had heard this often in his sleep.

    THOSE WHO SEE
    THEY WILL BE
    ILLUMINATED

    I do not know what this means, but I am personally excited to continue working on this matter. The boy has become irritable recently so I had to let him go and visit his family, but I think I might be able to discover a breakthrough on this myself. I am very excited, so forgive me for the frantic and confused nature of these observations. A longer and more detailed report on this revelation will soon be forthcoming.

    We may have uncovered something wonderful.

    (Update soon, just need to have it proofread by Skips: Have a little teaser beforehand!)
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Year Eight: Mentality
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    • YEAR EIGHT: MENTALITY​

    For some reason the tent's flap is tied shut. Quickly untying it, you burst into the tent, hands on your hips, chin tilted upwards, smirk prepared. The darkly colored tent is illuminated by a dim light, everything packed away, but then without warning a rug flies towards you. Ducking underneath the carpet, you scan the room for your assailant before you are gripped from behind. A dark hand covers your mouth, but you bite down hard on it and kick backwards, before rolling and posing against your enemy. They have a black robe and a veil of some kind, with only their eyes visible. An assassin!

    You emit a war cry and charge at them while shouting, "I am as fierce as the Haakwai! I am not a slave! I am VASHTIII-owowowowow!"

    The assassin is holding you by the ear. They remove their veil and it's Halacha! You squirm against her grip and say, "thatreallyhurtslemmego!"

    She drops you quite unceremoniously before saying "And what exactly are you doing here? I thought you were some kind of assassin, you stupid girl."

    You push yourself up and scoff before saying "No, it is you who is the assassin! You threw a rug at me!"

    Halacha breathes in and says "I threw a rug at you because you burst into my tent posing and then you bit me." She holds up her hand, indented by your molars.

    You cross your arms and shrug. "I'm not going to apologize for that. You attacked me," You say, "and besides, all I wanted was to show you I'm not a slave."

    Halacha rolls her eyes and says, "Yes, that's right. Slaves at least know that there is a punishment for trespassing. I'm not going to teach you because I'm leaving."

    Your smirk grows wide. "I can't let you do that." You march forward closer to her, put one hand on your hip, the other hand outstretched, finger wagging at her, and declare "You may have tricked me with your sneaky ear attack but I will not surrender! I do not have a slave men…mentally? Mentally…mental? No, that's not right…"

    "You mean a slave mentality."

    "Don't finish it for me! Only slaves ask for grammar help! Slave…mentalaty…MENTALITY! Slave Mentality! And you see, I thought of it all on my own!" You say, posing triumphantly.

    Halacha's eyes stray from your head to your feet and then in the blink of an eye she trips you, as you fall to the ground with a thud, before walking over to the printing press and saying, "I am happy for your mastery of language, but I cannot play games with y-"

    You grab the carpet and with great effort, manage to hoist it over your head before flinging it across the room. Halacha narrowly ducks behind the printing press while the carpet rockets into the thick wall of the tent, slapping against a support beam.

    You raise your arms above you, fists clenched and yell, "Fierce as the Haakwai!"

    Halacha shakes her head and sighs before saying "I will not teach you, child. I cannot tea-"Another carpet nearly takes her head off. When she peeks back up, her brow is furrowed and her lips wrinkled. "Where are you even getting these fro-" She catches your surprise third carpet but falls back.

    You grab the final carpet and hold it lengthwise above your head as you jump onto the printing press and holler "SLAVE MENTALITY!" before the momentum of the carpet makes you slip and fall on the floor.

    Spreading your arms out on the floor, you stare at the ceiling, panting. The canopy's careful weaving is revealed by the morning sun, sewn sharp white triangles overlapping one another, struggling to break of the choking pitch black fabric. Halacha slowly peeks over the printing press before chuckling. You start to laugh as well, and soon you're both in tears.

    Halacha barely manages to say, "You know, ha-ha, it's funny, because, ha-ha, you remind me of my-heh-ha, self."

    You giggle to that. "That is funny! And here I thought you were born like this!"

    Halacha is laughing so much she has to kneel against the printing press to your left, saying "And you know what else is funny? You know what's the funniest thing of all?"

    Your cheeks are red from laughing, and you take a few breaths before saying "What?"

    Halacha gives you a wide-faced grin with open eyes. "You've left yourself completely open."

    "Wh-" Halacha grabs a rug and brings it down on your face, stopping a few centimeters from your nose. Your eyes cross as you blink at it before Halacha moves it away and shoves her face in yours, holding her grin.

    "Attack me again, Vashti, and you'll wish you were a slave. Are we clear? "Trembling, you nod your head.

    Halacha stands up and clasps her hands before saying, "Wonderful. Now with that caveat out of the way, you've convinced me you're ready. I do need to leave, but I am willing to teach you a method that will allow you to learn how to sing by yourself."

    You fling yourself up and almost faceplant into the printing press, before pushing up the sleeves of your dress and cracking your knuckles and saying "I'm ready."

    Halacha nods and walks over to a chest and saying, "Good, then let's get started." Halacha suddenly spins and throws a book across the room to you, but you catch it.

    "Open to the third page. It is time for you to learn the language of sound."
    ​

    "Do you really need to leave?" You ask Halacha as you help her put the last tentpoles onto the back of her buggy.

    Halacha kneels and puts a hand on your chin, softly, and says "I wish I could stay more. But there are some people here who want me gone."

    You nod and pout, lip trembling. Halacha sighs and pulls you into an embrace before whispering, "I may be closer than you think. Remember what I taught you." She pulls away as her...buddy...assistant...person gets onto the buggy, and then walks over to her moa. Pulling the reins down, Halacha forces the bird to sit down so she can get on. After she has settled into the stirrups, she pulls the reins and does a circle.

    "Be good, Vashti. Remember who you are, not what others tell you to be." She shouts before digging her stirrups in. "YA, Yakoyan!" The moa rides off in one direction and the buddy spurs the buggy to the other towards the skull tower. You watch as Halacha disappears into the distance, mumbling her last words to yourself as your eyes water, obviously from the dust. Obviously.

    "She must have really liked you." A voice says from behind you, causing you to jump and get into battle pose, only to relax and tilt your neck back when you see it's Aisha, standing at the gate to the village, leaning against the palisade.

    "Ugh," you grumble, "what do you want? Here to rub it in? That my singing teacher had to leave and I'm never going to leave?"

    Aisha steps back a bit and says "No, that's no-"

    You interrupt her and ball your hands into fists, stepping forward, "Well I don't care! You can go away forever for all I care! I hate you and I hate Yokan and I hate tata and mama! Just because you were born before me you get to go away and see the world and I have to stay here, in this stupid village!"

    Aisha looks down. "Vashti I-" She starts before you interrupt her.

    "And the best part of it is that you don't even deserve it! You can't sing! You can't do anything but think and daydream! But I bet you're not even that smart!"

    Tears start to well up in her eyes. "Why- why would you say that?" She asks.

    You throw your hands up in the air. "Why wouldn't I? It's the truth! If you can't handle it, it's because you still have the slave mentality! You think but you don't get it and if you don't get it then you shouldn't complain!"

    She buries her face in her hands. "S-stop saying that. S-stop being m-mean. I didn't do anything!"

    You march up to her. "Yes you did! I bet when you go back you're going to be so happy you get to leave."

    She mumbles under the hand covering her face dripping with tears. "No I'm not."

    You push yourself more into her space. Be assertive. "What?"

    Aisha flings her hands down and starts sobbing. You're taken aback, and the slap she hits you with doesn't help.

    "I was going to apologize for what happened last night, because I felt really bad about that! And I just wanted to say that I don't want to leave! But I have to! Just like you! I want to be here with my mom and my dad and my sister and my brother and my grandma! So I understand why you want to leave because I want to stay but I can't! But now I see that I was wrong. I should leave because then I won't have to listen to you being such a jerk!"

    You start sputtering. "I-i-I-I'm a haakwai!"

    Aisha scoffs. "A Haakwai! You mean like the one that made Yokan lose half his ear! Oh yeah, great role model, Vashti! Just like the Haakwai you're really great at ruining things! Good job!"

    "Aish-"

    "I'm so stupid! And here I thought that after all that time we spent arguing and fighting I could actually get through to you! How dumb was that, huh? And you know what, I wish I had some talent! I wish I could sing like you! You're right! I'm just a stupid waste who's a burden on the family. I'm not even going to be able to stay here and be a leader! I'll be some factory boy's cook!"
    Your eyes widen and you look down. "I didn't know that."

    Aisha has a bitter laugh at that. "Of course you didn't, because you never ask anything, do you, Vashti? You just charge in and you take control, and you force your way through but you never wonder if anyone is actually hurt by that! You're so busy thinking about yourself you don't even see who you're stepping on!"

    "I-i-I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." You say quietly.

    "Sorry? Oh, she's sorry. She's so sorry. Do you hear that everyone, Vashti is sorry!" Aisha shouts up at the sky.

    An old woman's voice answers her. "I heard that." Aisha jumps as Baba Nasa emerges from behind one of the remaining tents. She has a bit of yam stem in her hands, half-chewed.
    Both of you immediately turn to her and straighten up, putting on smiles. "Baba Nasa!" You say in unison.

    Your Baba inspects both of you, walking around both of you. You hold your breath and keep still even as a bead of cold sweat rolls down from your hair.

    Finally, the Baba sits down crosslegged on a rock in front of you and nods. "So it seems that we have a problem. You two are having a fight, and we can't have that."

    Aisha finally releases her breath and blurts out "I did it! It was me! I got really angry at Vashti."
    You stare at her and then shake your head. "No! It was me! She came to apologize and I was being really mean to her."

    Your baba chews a piece of yam and narrows her eyes. "So you both need to be punished?"

    You and Aisha glance between each other. "No…Yes?" You both answer slowly.

    Baba Nasa finishes her yam stem and pushes herself down the rock, clearing away a small patch of grass and plucking a single blade of grass, before holding it in front of her face.

    "When I was a young girl, my sisters and I often competed about many things. One of our favorite thing to compete on was our marriage partners. We had long arguments about who would marry who. We even drew maps of how it would work in the dirt. We were very silly girls." A small smile crept onto Baba Nasa's face before fading away.

    "They never managed to get the chance because they all died in a terrible famine. Our winter stores were destroyed. The deacon requested aid, but the food sent by the Patriarch was given to the archdeacon, because the hunger was slowing down the millgirls in Arhan. What were we? They had their clothes, but we only had the grass beneath our feet to keep us warm."

    Baba Nasa gets up and pulls you both into a shaking hug. "Every day I am grateful to God for giving me two beautiful grandchildren. But it hurts me deep inside to see you fight, even if it is what girls do." She pulls away and puts one hand on your shoulder and one on Aisha's before speaking.

    "In time you will have responsibilities that will force you to break away from what you want. Vashti, you will become the head of the village. It will be hard not to be able to go away, but you will be surrounded by family and trusted with leadership. Aisha, you will have to one day say goodbye to your family, but you will make a new family, and see new places, new experiences. Perhaps one day, if you are lucky, you may become wealthy and bring the rest of us with you. The world is changing."

    You glance between one another as she lowers herself down slowly to your eye level and says, "On this earth you have limited time to spend with the ones you love. You two have been blessed with one another and I know that you care for one another. So don't spend so much time fighting. You are both from the same womb, do not forget, and your totems sit side by side. In time, when you grow old, you may pass on to Chuvam, but your memory will reside forever in the eyes of those who loved you."

    She kisses Aisha and then you in the forehead before putting her hand on both of your heads. "Now get back to work! The deacon is coming!"

    You glance over to Aisha one more time, smiling this time, and then run off. She follows behind you.

    ​

    You drop the last bale of hay in the back of the barn, clapping your hands to brush the dust off. Everything is almost ready for the deacon now. Aisha split off to help your mother with fixing a hole in her scarf so it's just you now.

    Your eyes wander around the barn, stacks of hay and the stabled moa beneath thatched walls, before you find a suitable hay bale to sit down on, against the wall. Cold mud brick meets your back and allows you to relax. Maybe even sleep…

    Suddenly there's a thump under you and what sounds like a woman's muffled yelp of pain. Shaken out of your stupor, you move aside the hay bale but see only earth. Wait a minute…some wood is visible under the dirt.

    You had heard gossip from Tatala that there was a trapdoor in the barn, but you didn't believe her then, but now…you start brushing away the dirt, revealing a trap-door just big enough for someone to fit into. You manage to pry your fingers underneath and pull it open…

    A hand flies up and grabs you by the knot of your scarf, pulling you down and closing the trapdoor shut. You try to scream but they put a palm over your mouth.

    "Shh." She hushes you. It's too dark to see, but you can recognize her voice. It's Halacha!
    She whispers to you. "How did you hear that?"

    You blink and squint in the darkness before quietly saying, "I just…did. My mother says my hearing is very good."

    Halacha sighs and nods before saying, "Yes, that makes sense. You differentiated your octids very easily..." She is silent for a second before whispering again, "you need to leave Vashti. I left my Moa a few pashangs away and snuck back into the village for a reason. The Deacon's eyes see far and wide. I need to wait here until he gives up chasing me."

    "Why does the d-" You're too loud and she shushes, you, so you bite your lip and try again quieter , "why does the deacon want to do that?"

    "I told you that there are people looking after me. The deacon is probably going to be here very soon." Halacha whispers.

    You nod slowly to that. "I won't tell anyone, don't worry," you murmur back.

    Halacha puts her hands on your shoulders. "I know that you won't. I'm going to let you out but Vashti, I am telling you this because I expect you not to."

    You nod again three more times, and then she pushes you up. "Be careful." She whispers one more time as you close the trapdoor, put the dirt over, and then put the hay bale over.

    Acting entirely natural, you walk out of the barn.

    "What are you doing, Vashti?"

    You nearly jump out of your skin. It's Tatala, she's sitting up against the entrance of the barn. Did she…no, she couldn't have. She would have said something.

    You put a piece of scarf in your mouth. Natural. "Nothing!" You say, completely naturally.

    Tatala rolls her eyes and stands up, a little smile on her face. "Were you thinking about someone? Boros, maybe?"

    Your brow furrows and your tilt your head. "Boros? Why would I be thinking about Boros?" You say.

    Tatala sighs and says, "I forgot you're not really at that age. But you're definitely acting suspicious." She gets up really close to you and you gulp.

    "So what is it, Vashti? What did you see in that barn that you're hiding?"

    "Tatala, I'm not gonna tell you."

    Tatala looks down at her nails. "That's unfortunate. I would have loved to hear the whole story. I guess I'll just have to tell your mother that you did something in the barn instead. I'm sure her imagination will run wild."

    You groan. What should you do? She's got you good. Tatala is a good liar and can tell when others are lying…but Halacha trusted you with this. But if you don't tell her the truth and she doesn't believe you she could get really mad…


    What should you do?

    [] Tell the Truth to Tatala.
    [] Attempt to lie. [Roll 1d20, success if 12 or above].
    [] Refuse to tell her.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Refuse to tell her.

    I don't like odds of lying, and I don't trust Tatala to keep a secret like this, esp. when we're not supposed to be telling anyone. So suck it up and keep that mouth shut, mom's reaction can't be that bad.
     
    [X] Won't her mother be so upset when she finds out that she's telling lies to get people into trouble, though?

    We are Haakwai, we bow to no threats! HAAAKWAI!
     
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