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From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: [NTY] Dances with Wemics
Message-ID: <1993Aug14.054217.16556@midway.uchicago.edu>
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Organization: University of Chicago
Date: Sat, 14 Aug 1993 05:42:17 GMT
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(Taken from the personal diary of Gunther Toodie, entitled 
 'Reflections in Parahan')

On the second day after our capture at Alamatar the Generican boy who has
taken to calling himself 'Mad Winter' after the primitive manner of these
barbarians replaced the foul hoods on our heads and we could see naught.

It was then, apparently, that my dear comrade Sadaget was separated from me.
The boy told me later that he had been traded to a pride of Wemmicks for]
a bundle of animal skins and shiny spear-heads.  How utterly demeaning, 
especially to a high-born Ramemeshander such as Sadaget.  Toake one's living
through slavery, onlyyto be bartered for profit like a slave- I would have
enjoyed the irony were I not the sjubject of this cruel turn of events.

On the third day I was at last given something to eat.  Then more of that
dreadful hood, and riding awkwardly on horseback with my feet bound.

On the fourth day, at last, I was to be brought before the chieftain of
these people.  I looked forward to this encounter to some extent, for at
least power was something I could understand and had hopes of somehow
manipulating to my own relative advantage.  Whereas all of this hooding
and binding to which I had been subjected- well it was enough to turn
any decent fellow disagreeable.  I demanded a basin of water for washing
to make myself more presentablebefore the chieftain, and one of the 
barbarians complied, though I am not sure whether out of pity for my
status or out of a desire to temper the exposure of his leader to a smelly
foreigner.

I carefully combed my hair as best as I was able; nevertheless, the hood
was placed over me again until I was brought into the presence of the
chief.  Before it was removed, I was thrown to the ground and made to
prostrate myself.  Only then was the odious headcovering removed, and
I found myself confronted by a circle of perhaps a hundred of the heathens.
Before me were two tall torches.  Between these stood an ancient but 
powerful and charismatic figure bedecked in feathers and beads.  I immediately
recognized him as the chieftain of these people.  From behind a foot pressed
my face into the dirt as the chief approached me.  
"Greetings, most glorious majesty," I managed to croak.
By way of responding the chief spit in my face.

The Generican boy was dirrected toserve as translator whenever the chief
directed a remark at me- which was not often and when  it did occur
it consisted of the most vile insults.  The chief addressed his own
people for quite a long time.  As best I could tell from his tone and
gesticulation, his main topic was the bravery of the Ka'asu tribe of
the Parahander nomad/hunters as contrasted with some notable enemies
including (but not limited to) the Skiaru tribe, the Ankiaru tribe,
the Telebu tribe, the Parahander farming colonies, the Rameshander
tax-collectors (the goat-heads), Rameshander merchants, the Rameshander
Imperial Army, the Shaheran of Rameshan himself, the Cathayan merchant
protectors, the gnolls, the lizard-men, the illithids, anyone who looked
remotely northern, anyone who could write his own name, and so on.

For a time the chief and some of the other prominent-looking hunters
conferred quietly (though this is a relative termm considering that the
Parahander hunter language seems to consist of bloodcurdling shrieks and
bonejarring bellows accompanied by violent manual gesticulation and
the occasional punctuational expectoration).  They were discussing
what was to be done with me.  At last it seemed that they had decided that
as much as they would enjoy dragging me by my tongue across the countryside,
they would bring me to the tent-city of Quyushu where the Il-Shar held
court.  I would be turned over to the Il-Shar as part of the annual
tribute paid by each of the several tribes to the nominal leader of 
Parahan, and it would be his decision what to do with me from that
point.

I remember recalling that I would have cried at this point, if I were
not so dry from not having any water to drink for two days.




































-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu