Chaktawe Folktales (Approved)

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Chaktawe Folktales (Approved)

Postby Naledi on May 27th, 2010, 6:02 pm

As anybody who has read the excellent lore article on the Chaktawe know, these proud people tell excellent stories of their past. Chased by boredom, I humbly offer this story to you. It's a traditional story with a Chawtawe twist - kind of. >.> It's IC, but I'm not really very good at writing so the actual storytelling isn't described very well. Most likely it would fall under entertainment as drama as it doesn't give any strong meaning when it comes to the history of the Chaktawe and the people as a whole.

Why the Golden Wolf Howls


The young Abayla settled herself in her seat. She dared not say so, but the attention she was being given was flattering and she felt a blush building. The whole tribe had its jet eyes on her, and the nerves were fluttering in her chest.

“Hurry up, child. I swear, all the stars will go out before you begin,” the older Abayla chided gently. The younger Abayla gave a small smile to the tribe and began her tale, her voice shaky.

“Once, some time ago, there was a terrible shortage of-”

“Speak up, child, and show some confidence. This is an exciting tale, tell it with enthusiasm.” The older Abayla tried to look stern, but her lined face could show nothing but kindness. There was another sheepish smile from the younger Abayla, who continued with new strength in her voice.

“There was a terrible shortage of food which swept the whole of Eyktol. Our people were starving almost as much as they had been after the Valterrian. The animals we keep and hunt were dying like the flies that gathered to feast on their corpses.’ Her voice conveyed the emotion the Chaktawe undoubtedly felt during the time of hardship. ‘The Wayhali, who was becoming old and frail, took ill. In contrast, his son’s wife seemed to be almost glowing with vibrancy and life although she hardly ate anything at mealtimes. The son, an excellent tracker and hunter, was perplexed by his wife’s health as he himself was feeling his energy becoming weak with hunger.

“One night, the old Wayhali’s wife, who was becoming blind, came to her son and told him what she had seen during the night. ‘I was sleeping badly and needed fresh air, so I decided to take a short stroll. As I lifted the covers, my nose was met with the smell of roasting meat that floated to me lazily like the desert butterflies. Your wife was by the fire, cooking and greedily eating a bowbacked goat,’ she said to her son, who listened in dismay.” The young Abayla’s expression became confused and shocked, a perfect impression of what the hunter must be feeling. It changed to sadness as she continued. “‘When I asked her to share some with me, she denied me the food, saying harshly that I’m blind and I was half asleep so I could not know what I was seeing and I was only dreaming. Although I reasoned with her and eventually begged her to share some with me, even a morsel, she would not. In the end she left me only the bones which I am ashamed to say I had to gnaw on like a dog before returning to sleep and the warmth of my bed.’

“Shocked, the hunter apologized profusely to his mother for his wife’s behavior. He begged his mother not to mention anything to the selfish young wife and to pretend it had never happened. When the young wife awoke, the hunter pretended all was normal and treated her the same as he had before, but he kept a closer watch on her. All through the day, nothing in particular happened, and the hunter began to think that perhaps his mother had been dreaming. However, when night came, the young wife slipped quietly from her place beside her husband, who lay awake and followed her after a short time. Keeping low and keeping his distance so as not to alert her to his presence, he observed her turn her face to the moon and sing magic songs to the sky. Soon a number of animals were drawn to her and she slaughtered one to bring back and eat. Disturbed, the hunter returned to his tent and pretended to sleep while his wife ate the jackal she had selected. As he lay, he went over the words and tunes his wife had uttered, memorizing them completely and listening as she buried the bones so the tribe would not discover her secret.

“The next day, the hunter managed to catch a desert cow that had wandered from a herd nearby. The beast was half-dead anyway but the tribe shared it amongst themselves. The wife was honored with plenty of food and she ate well, stumbling to her tent afterwards to sleep deeply, content with her full stomach.

“As she slept, the hunter crept away to the exact place his wife had stood. He looked up at the moon and sang the magical songs that his wife had sung. Soon many different animals were assembled before him, including a fearsome tsana, all as docile as lambs. Amazed at his wife’s magic songs, he killed a few small desert creatures to take back to the camp with him. He woke his tribe and shared the food with them, not divulging any secrets involving his wife to them and merely saying his intuition told him to go hunting. His wife, disturbed by the merriment, awoke and lifted the flap of her tent. The hunter’s mother shot her quick, triumphant glances as she crouched at the fire eating the soft meat. The young wife knew instantly that her husband knew her secret. She stood and fled, running as fast as her feet could carry her, ashamed at her behavior and selfishness. The hunter felt the disturbance and followed her, meaning to forgive her and welcome her back into the tribe with open arms, calling her name over and over, for he loved her dearly and only wanted to show her the error of her ways. He was beginning to lag behind her as she was well fed and he was still weak from malnutrition.

“Suddenly she tripped and fell, her glossy black hair spilling over her shoulders and into her face. It began to turn gold, and as he watched, she grew fur and became a golden wolf.” The storyteller’s voice became even sadder and she seemed to be almost on the verge of tears. The older Abayla nodded encouragingly and the girl continued. “He called her name again and again, desperate to have her back, but the magic she had used for her own selfish purposes was taking its revenge on her. He watched as the last traces of humanity left the wolf’s eyes and it howled a mournful song to the solemn, unforgiving moon. This is why the wolf’s howl is so regretful, because of a great deed of selfishness it cannot remember.”


So yeah. Critique would be excellent because I realise it's not quite up to par. In fact I think I've made an exciting tale dreary and boring... oh well. It really does need help. ^.^

Thanks so much for actually taking time to read my sad attempt at a good story.

-Max
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Chaktawe Folktales

Postby Japikoa on June 7th, 2010, 8:23 am

I very much enjoy this story. I think it would be a great addition to the Chaktawe tales.

I was inspired to write another, which I mentioned in Japikoa's background. I have put it here, to be read as well.



Spring 500 AV

Abayla Ujima settled down with her daughter in her lap. The young girl squirmed around until the older woman gave her a sharp, harmless smack to the top of her head. Japikoa giggled and settled immediately, knowing that her mother would follow it with a not-so-harmless smack if she continued to disobey. A moment later the Abayla separated tiny locks of her daughter's hair and began the time-consuming task of braiding it. Where other nine-year-old girls might have cradled a doll in their lap, this little Suli girl held a dagger and whetstone. She began carefully sharpening the blade.

"Tell me my story again," Japikoa said, a smile in her voice and on her lips.

"You have heard it, you, a hundred times," her mother chuckled, ending the first braid with a small pinch of wax.

The girl snorted. "And if I have my way, I will hear it a hundred more," she giggled. "Please, ayma?"

Ujima sighed, but she knew well enough she needed to keep the girl entertained long enough to get all of her hair braided, and the story of her namesake was the easiest way. As her daughter began the rhythmic scraping of the blade against the whetstone, the Abayla calmed her voice as she was taught. She had a clear, sweet soprano that was greatly honored among the Suli, and she began the story of Japikoa.

"Many years past, when your great-grandfather's grandfather was the Wayhali of the Suli Tribe, he had a beautiful daughter named Japikoa. She was the youngest of his children and strong-willed, a jewel among the tribe's women. She became a gifted healer by the time she was only fifteen, and spent many hours each day tending the wounds of the hunters and warriors who battled the Eypharians for control of the oases.

"One day an old warrior came to the Wayhali's daughter for care. He bore scars from battles fought decades earlier, his hair grizzled and white and his face deeply seamed. His body had betrayed him, as it often does to those who live long enough," she chuckled, flexing her fingers as she continued her work, "and he suffered from the swelling of the joints that often strikes those who spend their lives fighting. There is little that can be done for the pain, but Japikoa had a gentle touch, and the warrior often said that when he laid his hands in hers it was as if his pain were stolen away.

"An entire season went by, and each day they spent together, sharing stories, sharing their hearts. Finally came the day when Japikoa no longer looked on him and saw the snow-white hair or the wrinkles that criss-crossed his face. She saw only a man who held her heart in his gnarled hands. On that day she took his face in her healer's hands and pressed her lips to his, and when she drew back again and opened her eyes it was no longer the elderly warrior who sat before her.

"It was Eywaat's face she held now, and his strange hazel eyes that met hers. The old warrior was the mask he wore to learn her heart, and once she gave it to him he let the mask slip away and revealed himself to her. My love, he said to her, though you knew my heart, now you know also my face and my true name. Come away with me and be my wife, and I will love you for all of your days."

"But she was wroth with him," her daughter interrupted, glancing over her shoulder to find her hair nearly half finished.

"But she was wroth with him," Ujima chuckled, gently nudging the girl's face forward with a knuckle. "Japikoa was infuriated that he would trick her, though it is well known that Eywaat will often disguise himself when he woos a mortal woman. She felt that he had lied to her, deceived her and broken the trust she'd given him along with her heart. And so she refused him - but she told him that she loved him, and would never give her heart to another but him.

"And so Eywaat, entranced by this strange turn of events, began to woo her in his own form. Every time he came to Japikoa, they spoke for long hours. He would lay beneath the night sky with her in his arms. And each time before he left, he would ask her to be his bride. And she would always reply Not yet."

"Not yet," the girl replied, a little dreamily - it was her favorite part of the story.

The Abayla smiled softly as she gathered the last few strands of hair together to make the final braid. "Weeks passed, and then seasons, and still he came to her, and still she replied Not yet. The seasons turned to years, many, many years, and Japikoa kept her promises to Eywaat. She loved only him, would stand no other man's touch upon her skin, but still she refused him.

"As the years passed, the girl grew into a fine young woman and an accomplished healer. More years passed, and more, and the sun and wind carved their own lines around her eyes. Strands of white began to touch her black hair, and then became streaks, and then there was no more black to be found. Her slim figure softened and sagged as it must when age encroaches," she chuckled dryly, gathering the mass of tiny braids and weaving them together to keep them up while the girl trained. "One day, Japikoa lay beneath the night sky with Eywaat, and the tables had turned - for now it was the god whose body was young and hale and fit, and the mortal woman whose bloom of youth had passed. But there was no less love in their eyes as they gazed upon each other. And on that day, when Eywaat said Come away with me and be my wife, Japikoa said Yes. And so the god, enraptured by her unbending spirit, took her as his bride. And they were together the rest of her days."

"And that's where I got my name," the little girl said, examining the dagger she'd been sharpening. "Because my spirit is unbending as well."

"Some would just say stubborn," the Abayla chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and gently shoving her off her lap. "Off with you, now."
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Chaktawe Folktales

Postby Naledi on June 7th, 2010, 3:16 pm

Gahhh! You put my sad, copied story to shame. -hangs head- That's such an excellent story!

How do you think we go about getting these added to the list of stories on the Chaktawe page? ^.^ (Or, yours, at least, as I don't really think mine is up to par.)
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Chaktawe Folktales

Postby Japikoa on June 7th, 2010, 7:39 pm

I like yours very much! I think you should continue to pursue it. There are supposed to be many stories listed for the Chaktawe, so it is important to have many different ones. :)

I believe they must be approved by Colombina, and then she will allow them to be added to the Wiki.
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Chaktawe Folktales

Postby Colombina on November 20th, 2010, 2:52 am



What a loser I am for not seeing these! I will peruse these this week and try to make them wiki ready. I will, of course, talk to you both and give credit where it is due!

Thanks for contributing :)


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Chaktawe Folktales

Postby Solomon on May 2nd, 2011, 7:08 pm

Hey Bina!

These are incredibly old, and I don't know how I didn't notice them before. Where do these stand? Were they ever looked at, or put into the Wiki?
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Chaktawe Folktales

Postby Colombina on May 3rd, 2011, 6:37 am

I posted them in the IC part of the wiki a bit back :)
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Chaktawe Folktales (Approved)

Postby Dusk on May 3rd, 2011, 12:25 pm

I see the Golden Wolf one, but not the other one. Unless I'm just completely blind?
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Chaktawe Folktales (Approved)

Postby Colombina on May 6th, 2011, 1:01 am

The category is kinda hidden where all of them are listed. I fixed the link in the Chaktawe page, but FYI the list of stories can be found here.

I'm hoping to add some more soon. I want to avoid mimicking any stories drawn from real cultures. I'm all for inspiration, but I really want to emphasize the Chaktawe culture of the game. I especially love the Japikoa story for that reason, it takes into account Eywaat's nature and history.
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Chaktawe Folktales (Approved)

Postby Dusk on May 6th, 2011, 3:56 am

AH! Okay, I was looking at the Chaktawe wiki page. The other two are listed there. :)
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