The Oblates of the Spirits

Come the Firemoon, a temple apprentice would hang a dozen paper lamps on each of four long, tasseled ropes from the top of the Vindran shrine to nearby trees. The apprentice climbed atop the shrine several times to prepare all the lamps. Baru had volunteered for the whole task this year, hoping it would impress the Brahmans. He woke early, performed the morning prayer, washed his hands and face, forewent breakfast. The temple halls were empty. Out the back of the temple, near the kitchens, he took a net bag filled with the lamps and the ropes, and several old candles used routinely for this purpose, still not entirely burnt out. He took them into the wood.

Erected in the midst of an ashen clearing, a three-tiered stone pagoda served as a shrine to the Great Spirit of Flames and Justice, Vindra. The shrine was several strides tall, and a clumsy fall would certainly end in broken bones. The lamps and strings turned the Pagoda into a celestial compass, marking the way along the four cardinal directions. Baru spent his morning climbing up and down the tiers of the Pagoda, careful not to scratch the stone work or catch his tail on anything. He hung the ropes to the four hooks, climbed down, and stretched the ropes out on trees so that they were taut. He hung the lamps, one by one, climbing up and down and hanging by the ropes deliver each.

He was unknowingly several hours into his labors, when the bell rang for lunch. Baru climbed down the Pagoda and felt he would collapse at its base. He laid back against it, his drenched robe heaving with his labored breath, and his dog-like ears twitching with a terrible itch. He noticed someone approaching and could hardly wave.

“It was very kind of you volunteer!” Called Brahman Amara. She was dressed in the long, black robes and high collar of a Brahman, the clothes that distinguished her from a simple apprentice’s colorless, sleeveless robes. A tiny fan-shaped decoration held her gray hair into a ponytail, and her lips were colored a bright gold. Her status in the temple was evident, and it was the goal of every apprentice to wear the high collar as she did.

Baru raised his head, surprised at the visit. She had brought him a trencher with a few phakuras and some dhaal, and a cup of nectar. Her fan-shaped, gray-feathered tail opened and closed contentedly.

“Thank you,” Baru said. He accepted the food. Brahman Amara looked overhead, seeming to approve of his work.

“You will have to climb again to light the candles, I see.” She said.

Baru nodded dolefully. He would have to climb multiple times to light them all. He hardly felt like eating, knowing that. At once he tried to stand, but found Brahman Amara’s hand at his chest, pushing him back gently.

“I think you’ve done enough,” She said, her voice taking a sly turn. “Allow me.”

She took in a deep breath, pressed her hands to her chest, and sang.

Baru was startled, he saw no instruments but could hear a melody, whispers and chimes and drums.

Brahman Amara’s voice grew high and passionate with the mystical tune, and the words convoked, compelled and demanded a show of spiritual power in an ancient lyric. The air around her body picked up like a column, and swept past her hair, and carried her passion in colorful flames up the pagoda, across each rope, and through each candle. Baru felt no heat, and saw but a burst of colors. The music subsided and Brahman Amara’s hair fell again.

All of the candles burnt with bright orange flames.

Baru was rendered speechless at the power of the Spirit’s Voice, his heart still beating in rhythm with the phantom drums, the voice still reverberating within his mind. Brahman Amara sat next to him against the Pagoda, casual in her demeanor, and smiled. “You earned that song.” She said. “But don’t neglect breakfast next time.”

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The Culture of the Western Sea

The Adelian continent is the center of the world often discussed herein, but there are other places and cultures to explore as well. The Western Sea is home to many lands and people. Like the Adelian continent, most share a somewhat similar cultural milieu. The Vikerur are a seafaring culture that spread throughout the Western sea, and are sometimes known as the “Vikerur Diaspora” by continental peoples. They are the indigenous inhabitants of the Western sea, and though they mirror the Adelian milieu in many ways, they are also different in others. In this article we’ll look at culture of the Vikerur diaspora throughout the major territories of the Western Sea and compare them to the continental diaspora of Adel.

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