Tales from Nirn, Various short stories and poems Options

[Colonel Mustard]

This is a small collection of short stories and poems that I'm writing intermittently when not working on a much larger writing project that's started taking up my time. Generally, they'll probably be one-off affairs, maybe with one or two mini serials here and there, but this is mainly going to be irregular side projects, probably in some different styles; expect documents, diary entries, traditional prose, poems and maybe one or two more out-there, experimental things.

First off, a documentation of Ashlander funerary rites, by the scholar Renitus Terrentier. Enjoy!


Ashlander Funeral Rites

Whilst staying with the Urshilaku tribe, one thing I had the good fortune to witness was a funeral for one of the clan members, something that is, as far as I can tell, unrecorded by Imperial scribes.

The death was of one of the Urshilaku’s karmaridae, hunter-warriors who both provide for and protect the tribe. The unfortunate man had been badly mauled by a kagouti he had been hunting, dragged back by his fellow karmaridae, and despite the best efforts of Nibani Maesa, the clan’s wise woman, he had passed after just a few hours of struggle.

To my surprise, preparations for the man’s funeral began immediately. The entire clan was gathered, and a large pyre was constructed. The karmaridae’s family were exempted from these duties and allowed to grieve, while the wise woman prepared the body for the funeral. Once the work was completed, the tribe waited for the sunset; not long before it was due, they began the funerary rites. As an outsider, it was decided that while I would not be allowed to participate, I would be permitted to observe and record all that happened.

The clan gathered in a semi-circle around the pyre, opposite the yurt where the dead man’s body was kept. It was obvious they were waiting for something, and in just a few moments, Nibani Maesa emerged from the yurt. She was wearing ceremonial dress, a headdress decorated with cliff racer feathers, along with woven ash-cotton bracelets and necklaces decorated with jewels. She carried a bunch of trama flowers, which she placed upon the pyre. Once that was complete, she stepped back, and fell to her hands and knees before the altar, touching her forehead to the ground, an action mirrored by the rest of the clan. They stayed kneeling as she stood, and began a chant:

“Our time upon Nirn is limited
Plants wither, livestock dies
We are born, and we age
Our birth is but precursor to our end
The flower that is the mortal shall wilt
Our joints shall seize, our hearts shall still
We shall leave this world of flesh to join our ancestors
From the lands of ash we come
To the lands of ash we shall be returned

The final line was repeated by the clan, who then stood. At this, as the sun was beginning to set, the dead karmaridae was carried forth from the tent on a bier, supported by four more karmaridae carrying torches in their free hands, two men and two women; I later learned that they were of the dead man’s Orikrae, an old Dunmeri word that translates into Cyrodiilic as “siblings not of blood”. The karmaridae wore a set of chitin armour, no doubt one that he had used in life, and had a bonemold-tipped spear lying across him in his hands. The head of the clan, Sul Matuul, went before them, wearing the ceremonial bonemold armour of an Ashkhan, and behind him were the karmaridae’s immediate family, his mother, wife and young son, all of whom were weeping and carrying trama flowers.

The Ashkhan stood one to one side of the pyre while the Orikrae placed the body on top of it, before taking up position behind Sul Matuul. The family placed the flowers on the deceased’s breast, and then stood on the other side of the pyre. Once again, Nibani Maesa stepped forwards, anointing the body with oils and beginning another chant. According to ashlander customs, their dead go to Azura’s realm of Moonshadow when they pass on, this chant calling on the favour of the ashlanders’ favoured daedra.

Ye of the dusk , ye of the dawn
Ye of the transitions, watch over this departing soul.
Ye who walks the silver pathways,
Ye who holds the twilit gates
Accept him into your realm
Where the argent rose never withers
Where we grow not sick, where we grow not old
Where we guide our descendents under your protection

At that cue, the Orikrae placed their torches upon the pyre and lit it. The mushroom-wood was soaked in oils, and its porous composition makes it very flammable, meaning that the fire was soon burning brightly in the twilight. Nibani Maesa began one final chant:

Carry him home
Carry him safe
Carry him through the silver thorns unharmed
Carry him to Moonshadow to live in the eternal twilight
Take him to the hallowed watchland

It was during this final prayer that I saw a most curious sight; for a few brief moments, it appeared as if a humanoid shape formed from the pyre’s smoke was rising up towards the sky, only to be embraced by another figure with webbed wings instead of arms. It may have just been illusion, but I know enough of daedra to know that Azura is served by the variant known as Winged Twilights, and I wondered if what I had just witnessed was a summoning of one of these daedra and a beseechment of it to protect the dead karmaridae’s soul as he journeyed to Moonshadow.

The clan was silent as the pyre burned to the ground, and once it had finally extinguished itself, darkness having completely fallen by this point, the Orikrae gathered up the dead man’s ashes; when I later quizzed Nibani Maesa about what they were to do with them, she informed me that before sunrise they would venture out into the ashlands and would scatter them as the dawn came.

Following this, the funerary feast commenced. This was a remarkably cheerful affair, and included dancing, music and telling of anecdotes from the dead karmaridae’s life, with the intent to celebrate his time in the mortal realm. The deceased’s family sat next to Sul Matuul in a position of honour, and were served food and drink without needing to rise to serve themselves from the communal table, as is the usual Ashlander custom.

It ended only as dawn approached, the Orikrae (now rather unsteady on their feet) departing from the camp to scatter the ashes. As I retired to my own tent, I felt privileged to be the first outlander to witness such an event, a unique experience of an unusual culture that, I am aware, many will not be able to ever see. I will continue this chronicle in good time, but for now I must rest; the time I have taken to record this event while my memory is as fresh as possible has left me tired, and I will have only a few hours for sleep before I am expected to rise and carry out the chores Sul Matuul has assigned me as a guest of Urshilaku. While I hope, the ashlanders’ sake, that the new day will bring no more funerals, I nonetheless pray to Julianos that I will have the good fortune to bear witness to something new in the fascinating lifestyle that the ashlanders lead.

[McBadgere]

Brilliant stuff...As ever...

The Ashlander thing was interesting and well written...

But I absolutely loved the Dovahkiin thing...I always love going to see Paarthurnax in the game...He's soooo sweet!!...

The dialogue was spot on...Nicely done!...

Fair dues, Knight of The Nine on Dragons...Nice idea... ...Although I can imagine some descendant of Sir Thedret being less than impressed with the idea... ...

But anyways...Brilliant stuff, as ever...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...