Frontpiece
Eparkhos
Banned
In the beginning, the world was dark and flat. Nothing lived, nothing died, nothing was. Then, one day, Ewónah fell out of the heavens at great speed, creating a massive crater that became the Suhtsoh Valley. Picking himself up, Ewónah looked around--he could see in the primordial night just as any man could see under the noonday sun--and began to wander across the land. Wherever his feet fell, they created craters and forced the land around them upwards, like water in the lakes. Thus, the mountains and the valleys were formed. He worked up quite a sweat while wandering, and wherever his sweat fell salt flats covered the ground.
After some time, Ewónah grew tired of the silence, and resolved to make subjects and companions for him to rule over. He spat into one of the salt flats and then shaped them into the first man and woman, Apocu and Táju, whom he then set free to wander the earth while he created animals and plants to feed them. However, they kept blundering into his half-completed projects, and Ewónah grew frustrated by this.
“Why do you keep breaking my creation? Are you not grateful for your lives, do you hate me for making you?”
“No, father,” they replied, “We cannot see!”
“You lie!” the Father of All shouted, “Your eyes are as good as mine! Why would you not be able to see?”
Still, they insisted that they could not see through the primeval night. “We cannot see through the night!”
“Fine then!” Ewónah shouted, “If you want light, I will give you light!”
He tore out his own eye and threw into the sky, casting the world in incredible light. Given his divine nature, he could still see out of both eyes, and so he resolved to watch the first couple as he worked on his other creations. Not wishing to be bothered, he carved a hole in the ground and clambered down it into the Womb of the World, where he set about making the animals and the plants. He was so focused on creating the other life that he did not pay attention to Apocu and Táju, who were being burned to death by the withering heat of his eye. After creating all the forms of life and conjuring up all the different metals and rocks, he emerged to find only the burnt bones of his first creations.
Taken aback, Ewónah began to cry. His tears fell to the earth and filled in one of the depressions, forming the Lake of Tears. He fetched up Apocu and Táju’s souls, apologizing profusely and put them into the sky to make up for it. Apocu became the Moon, and Táju became the Morning Star.
“Why did you burn? Tell me, so I may keep it from happening again!” Ewónah said.
“The sun hung too low over the ground.” Apocu said.
Ewónah nodded, thinking. His eye was fixed at its height, and he could not raise or lower it. But he could move it horizontally….
“How long did it take you to catch fire?” he asked.
“About a day.” Táju said.
“Well then,” Ewónah said, “The sun will only hang in the sky for a day. I will send it into the far west, around the rim of the world, and in this time Apocu will watch over the land. When it returns, he will also go west around the rim of the world, and they will trade off time. Táju will keep watch for you, Apocu, so that you won’t be surprised by the sun.”
They found this agreeable, and the cycle began while Ewónah made preparations to open the gates to the Womb of the World. At long last, the gates were opened and all the forms of life climbed out of the earth, spreading across the world in a great migration. Among them were Anáho and Siwél, the second man and the second woman. Everything went well at first, but then the plants began to wither, and the animals and the men began to weaken, Ewónah realized something had gone wrong.
“Am I unable to do anything correctly?” he cried, halting time so that his creations would not die.
“No, my lord, it is merely that your creations are dying of thirst.” Apocu interjected.
Ewónah laughed, realizing his foolishness. He broke off one of his fingers and tossed it into the heavens, from which his blood-water would spurt down as his heavenly flesh tried to reform itself. The rain fell evenly at first, returning life to the land, and all the world prospered for a time. But then, as the Tsúthlá penetrated the world from its eastern edge, Ewónah turned all of his attention to driving them back. Rain fell less often but still regularly, at certain times of the year. Ewónah’s eye and Apocu continued their rotation, the Father of All carefully watching his creations. Whenever they angered him, he would glare down upon them, drying the land and threatening to burn it once again. The people quickly realized they must keep the Father pleased, or face certain destruction. As Ewónah became more and more exhausted by his ongoing struggle with the forces of evil, he could no longer keep the lands of the center of the earth warm throughout the year. He raised up Kágo, the greatest of the bears, and appointed him as his viceroy to watch over the early people across the world.
However, the entropy innate to man soon reared its head, and many of the many children of Anáho and Siwél, the most handsome man and the fairest woman soon abandoned Ewónah and began to worship the other animals of the world before the father of all. Of all the people, only Anq’t’élont and Túmtlal, the father and mother of all the Sohaa, remained true to Ewónah and dwelled around the Womb of the World while the rest spilled out in all directions, forming the many barbarian peoples of the world. When Kágo appeared to them twelve years after the death of Anáho and Siwél, who lived for a hundred and forty-four years, they were ready to follow the commands of Ewónah, and began the journey to the Suhtsoh Valley….
After some time, Ewónah grew tired of the silence, and resolved to make subjects and companions for him to rule over. He spat into one of the salt flats and then shaped them into the first man and woman, Apocu and Táju, whom he then set free to wander the earth while he created animals and plants to feed them. However, they kept blundering into his half-completed projects, and Ewónah grew frustrated by this.
“Why do you keep breaking my creation? Are you not grateful for your lives, do you hate me for making you?”
“No, father,” they replied, “We cannot see!”
“You lie!” the Father of All shouted, “Your eyes are as good as mine! Why would you not be able to see?”
Still, they insisted that they could not see through the primeval night. “We cannot see through the night!”
“Fine then!” Ewónah shouted, “If you want light, I will give you light!”
He tore out his own eye and threw into the sky, casting the world in incredible light. Given his divine nature, he could still see out of both eyes, and so he resolved to watch the first couple as he worked on his other creations. Not wishing to be bothered, he carved a hole in the ground and clambered down it into the Womb of the World, where he set about making the animals and the plants. He was so focused on creating the other life that he did not pay attention to Apocu and Táju, who were being burned to death by the withering heat of his eye. After creating all the forms of life and conjuring up all the different metals and rocks, he emerged to find only the burnt bones of his first creations.
Taken aback, Ewónah began to cry. His tears fell to the earth and filled in one of the depressions, forming the Lake of Tears. He fetched up Apocu and Táju’s souls, apologizing profusely and put them into the sky to make up for it. Apocu became the Moon, and Táju became the Morning Star.
“Why did you burn? Tell me, so I may keep it from happening again!” Ewónah said.
“The sun hung too low over the ground.” Apocu said.
Ewónah nodded, thinking. His eye was fixed at its height, and he could not raise or lower it. But he could move it horizontally….
“How long did it take you to catch fire?” he asked.
“About a day.” Táju said.
“Well then,” Ewónah said, “The sun will only hang in the sky for a day. I will send it into the far west, around the rim of the world, and in this time Apocu will watch over the land. When it returns, he will also go west around the rim of the world, and they will trade off time. Táju will keep watch for you, Apocu, so that you won’t be surprised by the sun.”
They found this agreeable, and the cycle began while Ewónah made preparations to open the gates to the Womb of the World. At long last, the gates were opened and all the forms of life climbed out of the earth, spreading across the world in a great migration. Among them were Anáho and Siwél, the second man and the second woman. Everything went well at first, but then the plants began to wither, and the animals and the men began to weaken, Ewónah realized something had gone wrong.
“Am I unable to do anything correctly?” he cried, halting time so that his creations would not die.
“No, my lord, it is merely that your creations are dying of thirst.” Apocu interjected.
Ewónah laughed, realizing his foolishness. He broke off one of his fingers and tossed it into the heavens, from which his blood-water would spurt down as his heavenly flesh tried to reform itself. The rain fell evenly at first, returning life to the land, and all the world prospered for a time. But then, as the Tsúthlá penetrated the world from its eastern edge, Ewónah turned all of his attention to driving them back. Rain fell less often but still regularly, at certain times of the year. Ewónah’s eye and Apocu continued their rotation, the Father of All carefully watching his creations. Whenever they angered him, he would glare down upon them, drying the land and threatening to burn it once again. The people quickly realized they must keep the Father pleased, or face certain destruction. As Ewónah became more and more exhausted by his ongoing struggle with the forces of evil, he could no longer keep the lands of the center of the earth warm throughout the year. He raised up Kágo, the greatest of the bears, and appointed him as his viceroy to watch over the early people across the world.
However, the entropy innate to man soon reared its head, and many of the many children of Anáho and Siwél, the most handsome man and the fairest woman soon abandoned Ewónah and began to worship the other animals of the world before the father of all. Of all the people, only Anq’t’élont and Túmtlal, the father and mother of all the Sohaa, remained true to Ewónah and dwelled around the Womb of the World while the rest spilled out in all directions, forming the many barbarian peoples of the world. When Kágo appeared to them twelve years after the death of Anáho and Siwél, who lived for a hundred and forty-four years, they were ready to follow the commands of Ewónah, and began the journey to the Suhtsoh Valley….
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From: A History of the Sóhaa (1970)
By Kresto’náj Numá
The Great Basin is one of the harshest regions on the planet, runner-up only to the Atacama Desert in a contest for the driest part of the western hemisphere. Outside of the small valley of the Áq River and a handful of lakes on the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada, there is next to no water to be found other than the tiny amount brought by the rare thunderstorm. Little grows in the desert and even fewer animals dwell there, the local population consisting primarily of scrubby plants and grasses fed upon by a few species of birds, insects and rodents. It is almost entirely unsuitable for human habitation, supporting only a small number of desperate miners in the present and a few small bands of outcasts in the past. The sun bleaches the land as white as the bones of the many who have died upon it.
The Sési’wá Mountains [OTL Wasatch Range] are, likewise, extremely inhospitable. The mountains rise more than 3,000 meters above sea level, more than 1,500 above the surrounding landscape and form a nigh-on impossible barrier to east-west travel. They freeze regularly from October to April--fatal to anyone caught without shelter and a great number of those with it--and are alternatively drenched with rain that seeps into everything it touches, exposing it to slow freezing, or bone-dry like the surrounding desert, devoid of anything other than sagebrush and wild grouse. In the summer, it is subject to flash floods and mudslides, while in the winter it is blanketed in several feet of snow in a dry year. Dense forest make habitation or navigation even more difficult, and even in the present era it is sparsely settled.
Between these two extremes, however, something resembling a livable region forms. Sheltered by an arc in the mountains and protected from the scorching heat of the desert by the moderation of the Lake of Tears [OTL Great Salt Lake], the Suhtsoh Valley has a climate not dissimilar to that of the Mediterranean. A number of rivers naturally irrigate the plain, fed by the rains and snows of the Sési’wá, and this supports a flourishing of flora and fauna. Due to its isolated position, it is entirely possible that this pocket of terrain could have laid fallow throughout history, surrounded by desert in mountains in all directions as it was.
In spite of the formidable barriers to entry to the valley, humanity made its way there as it did every other part of the earth. Sometime around 8,000 BC, a ragged band of hunter-gatherers stumbled to the shores of the Lake of Tears from somewhere in the north or west. They had crossed the deserts to the north and west, carrying only the clothes on their back, their weapons, and a few scraps of food. To any outsider, they would look like cavemen, and in truth, they were barely removed from them. From them sprung the Sóhaa, who would rise to become one of the great civilizations of the world….
From: A History of the Sóhaa (1970)
By Kresto’náj Numá
The Great Basin is one of the harshest regions on the planet, runner-up only to the Atacama Desert in a contest for the driest part of the western hemisphere. Outside of the small valley of the Áq River and a handful of lakes on the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada, there is next to no water to be found other than the tiny amount brought by the rare thunderstorm. Little grows in the desert and even fewer animals dwell there, the local population consisting primarily of scrubby plants and grasses fed upon by a few species of birds, insects and rodents. It is almost entirely unsuitable for human habitation, supporting only a small number of desperate miners in the present and a few small bands of outcasts in the past. The sun bleaches the land as white as the bones of the many who have died upon it.
The Sési’wá Mountains [OTL Wasatch Range] are, likewise, extremely inhospitable. The mountains rise more than 3,000 meters above sea level, more than 1,500 above the surrounding landscape and form a nigh-on impossible barrier to east-west travel. They freeze regularly from October to April--fatal to anyone caught without shelter and a great number of those with it--and are alternatively drenched with rain that seeps into everything it touches, exposing it to slow freezing, or bone-dry like the surrounding desert, devoid of anything other than sagebrush and wild grouse. In the summer, it is subject to flash floods and mudslides, while in the winter it is blanketed in several feet of snow in a dry year. Dense forest make habitation or navigation even more difficult, and even in the present era it is sparsely settled.
Between these two extremes, however, something resembling a livable region forms. Sheltered by an arc in the mountains and protected from the scorching heat of the desert by the moderation of the Lake of Tears [OTL Great Salt Lake], the Suhtsoh Valley has a climate not dissimilar to that of the Mediterranean. A number of rivers naturally irrigate the plain, fed by the rains and snows of the Sési’wá, and this supports a flourishing of flora and fauna. Due to its isolated position, it is entirely possible that this pocket of terrain could have laid fallow throughout history, surrounded by desert in mountains in all directions as it was.
In spite of the formidable barriers to entry to the valley, humanity made its way there as it did every other part of the earth. Sometime around 8,000 BC, a ragged band of hunter-gatherers stumbled to the shores of the Lake of Tears from somewhere in the north or west. They had crossed the deserts to the north and west, carrying only the clothes on their back, their weapons, and a few scraps of food. To any outsider, they would look like cavemen, and in truth, they were barely removed from them. From them sprung the Sóhaa, who would rise to become one of the great civilizations of the world….
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