Seb
Registered
- TNP Nation
- Slonskovia
The Veyr: An In-Depth Cultural Compendium
Ashú vel a'naréi.
"He who controls the soul controls the salt. He who controls the salt controls everything."
Ashú vel a'naréi.
"He who controls the soul controls the salt. He who controls the salt controls everything."
Tseda kel n'vo my friend, the Mist, la thul, remembers more than the Wind. For the Wind comes and goes, as the selfish Gods do, but the thul stays close as a friend. In an older time, we were lost. Blinded by false powers. We prayed and worshipped and sacrificed for the Gods. We worked their land and harvested their crop. We soaked the fields in our blood for their honor. The Gods took and took—blood and silence and obedience. They came and took, just as the wind. We gave, and it was never enough. And we did not understand. But all was in accordance. For when the Mist came, it only provided. When it came, it only asked us to remember. In our hour of need, against the dawn of conflict, the Gods did not come. They abandoned us, and we lost. For forty days and forty nights, we drifted to a sunken place. But one dusk, the Mist did come. Unknowing and powerless, we submitted. We welcomed it to what was left of our land; the string of villages we still called a people. It saw us at our weakest, most selfish, and most cruel. And yet, it decided to stay. It whispered to us: unlocking the bondage of our senses, passing us from the echo of life. Our breath grew thick with feeling. Our eyes, unused to seeing, learned to feel the world open. We saw luhé, existence, in moments not yet passed. And when they came, they unfolded as foretold. We knew then what we know now. Sama la thul Velurée. The Mist dances within us. So we let it overcome our mortal practices, rituals, and minds. Death to the Old Gods! Le thul, the mist, is truth. For it speaks to us in memories of moments not yet past. And so the Mist changed us. The Mist saved us. And led us to prosperity! Our souls were saved from joining the Ölo. Our bodies transformed from husks to vessels! Luhé to su e sha, life and being! It taught us the soul. It taught us to echo and echo-bind. We had to spread this gift. We were called to. Called to. Called to... but no one came. The calling echoed back empty. For la Thul had called us chosen. Alone to bear its secret. And we did not understand. We wept. We doubted. We tried to forget. And so the Mist sung to us in hymns. Clung to us in rhythm. It wrapped itself around bones. It spoke its name at last: vé. Térah'no vé Khasar! Bind me to the Veil! And then the Veil consumed us. Even now, in this dusk, the vé covets us. And therefore it covets the land. We are the Veyr, the people of the Veil! And we did not understand—why us? For'it dance's with'in us'us, they—the voices in the vé—professed. And the vé showed us luhé through moments to come. And when they came, they happened as foretold. The vé sparked something in us. Our flames were finally lit. Every veyr carries a flame. Each calls their echos. And Ek'voro tan selé, the salt guides the lost flame. So as I reveal the story of the people of the Veyr, let me be your salt. Let me be your echo. Open your breath and quiet your tongue, for the truth will be revealed. What you hear is not a recounting of names and deeds, but the memory of memory—etched into the land, folded into silk, hammered into gold. The Veyr did not begin with power, nor did we rise with thunder. We emerged in silence, taught by rhythm and shaped by flame. What follows is not a history. It is an echo. So listen, as the vé once listened to us... Praise to the Veil. Sutharé vel vé.
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