Above: A picture similar to how the Quorothi would look, sharing stories with the children. A Group in of Itself The village of Quor is heavily founded on the idea that it stands as one unified group. Yet, despite that overarching mindset, the Quorothi have created a few smaller subgroups of people within the tribe based on what the individuals’ skills are. One of the more noticeable social groups is the elders of Quor. These men and women have high prominence on decisions due to their experience and typically make the final verdict on situations that may be fatal. They are a close group of people who spend the majority of their time together in the village discussing any new information discovered from excursions and documenting it on paper. This group is also very small as not many of the Quorothi live to be an older member of the village. Those in this small prominent circle could therefore consider it a primary group: they have hunted, fought, and survived side-by-side for so many years that their intimacy is unquestioned. This group does not weigh heavily on conformity; it is important to hear their different viewpoints and combined with their influence, the majority of the village determines the outcome of major decisions. Another group in Quor consists of those who have the power to communicate with animals. There are usually not more than a couple of these whisperers in the village at one time, but they are bonded together almost as much as they are bonded to animals. The older members would share their experiences with the younger ones and guide them so that they can continue their way of life with less risk of danger. The experience they carry is their own and it is difficult for other Quorothi without this power to relate. While for the most part, these individuals are lone direwolves, they do have a small social group that understand and relate to these characteristics. Therefore, each individual’s values are often accepted by the others in this group. It would be a stretch to say that Quor has any institutions. The atmosphere of work is casual, and there are no definite groups that hunt, harvest, explore, etc. These jobs are distributed between many of the Quorothi who have learned to participate in a combination of activities. However, the groups doing the different tasks each have corresponding values that they follow. Those who hunt put the safety of their hunters before anything else. If the situation could be potentially dangerous, retreat is a viable option without fear of shame or guilt on their return. Communication on the hunt is of the utmost importance; everyone’s position is known and very rarely should anyone stray from the strategy agreed upon in advance. Those who explore the vast jungles hold the value that everyone stays together with no one being left behind. No one should venture by themselves without informing the rest and everyone must consult each other before doing most any task. If these values are opposed or broken, the consequences are the danger and risks they put themselves in and a decrease in respect for endangering both the groups’ lives and their own life. No one is given physical punishment, but it is difficult to win back the favor of the fellow Quorothi after going against the rest without reason. The people of Quor value life more than any jewel or land; as a result, most people do not go against the group’s core values. Jaenara, the Quorothi girl with her panther, Terrax, is an example an individual who is an outlier from these normal groups. Her secondary group would be the elders and older villagers who know of her kind, the ones with the skill to bond with animals. They remember the previous whisperers, and they helped join the village in celebration of her power instead of fear it. Being one of a kind, Jaenara’s primary group would consist of only the panther, Terrax. They are able to understand each other on a level that she cannot with the other Quorothi. This individualism creates some conflict; she was often misunderstood by her peers. While there is no outward scorn, the children would think her strange and fear her power. Naturally, Jaenara’s disposition was strong; she was an excellent fighter and her quiet, almost cold, demeanor intimidated most. This didn’t bother her due to wanting to have complete free-range of the Wyvern Plains and beyond and freedom that she had to earn. Jaenara’s values, as someone so in touch with the land, differed from the Quorothi: who wished for the same, but feared that independence. Eventually, with the help of the older Quorothi and a mission she took on her own, she convinced the rest of the village to accept her way of life as someone who is undeniably, the exception. While there are no officially declared groups or institutions in Quor, the people of Quor keep to their values in every aspect of their lives. The Quorothi have the right to share their individual beliefs, but there is rarely any conflict due to their culture of closeness. As stated previously, the Quorothi can be pictured as one family. They are descended from the same ancestors and are within the same ethnic group; they share the same tragic history and path to the future. The Quorothi share similar beliefs and work for the greater good of all, and therefore, is a group in of itself. "If these values are opposed or broken, the consequences are the danger and risks they put themselves in."
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The Girl and the Panther The way in which the Quorothi identify themselves is heavily dependent on the culture of inner Sothoryos and the environment itself. The people of Quor have a strong and lean body structure from the variety of nutrients they eat and the amount of physical activities required of them. Another biological factor that affects the development of the Quorothi is their proximity to nature and hence their ability to have keen instincts and an acute sense of being a part of the ecosystem as a whole. Overall, not many villagers, if at all, die from old age; rather, most deaths occur due to fatal injury during a hunt of exploration. The people of Quor live with strength, skill, and agility beyond most of their Rhoynarish ancestors, but physical wounds or diseases are usually what brings life to a halt. Furthermore, the Quorothi stance on gender equality plays a big role in acceptance of everyone on an equal basis. While sex and gender usually align traditionally and consistently, binary gender roles are very distant. Due to women bearing children and typically having a smaller frame, it is true that a higher amount of women craft, gather rather than hunt, and complete more tasks requiring the mind over body, but men do these tasks as well. Women are treated on equal footing with men; opinions and respect are based upon skill and not sex. There are both men and women in Quorothi history who are praised as the greatest of hunters and explorers. Being isolated from the rest of the Planetos works its way into how the Quorothi identify themselves. Just as their culture is representative of one unified family, the interactions between people contribute as sociocultural factors to help make up the Quorothi’s identity. The culture is centered on teamwork and the greater good for all which affects each individual’s mindset when it comes to fear, stress, self-control, etc. On a psychological level, each person has different personalities and react to different stimuli in different ways. However, the sociocultural factors in their society passed down from the Rhoynar and created after the pilgrimage from Yeen, have the greatest impact on each person’s identity. Biologically speaking, the circumstance of living in Sothoryos has forced its inhabitants to develop strong, agile bodies, and rarely, the skill of connecting with animals on a level unheard of before. One whose prowess is most notable goes by the name of Jaenara, as a homage to Jaenara Belaerys, a dragon rider whose name Princess Nymeria would tell stories of while sailing to Sothoryos. I wring the water out of my cloak, but the damp fabric is soothing against the gleaming sunlight. As I make my way to the jutting stones past the Wryn River, I feel a deep nauseous feeling in my stomach crawl up to my throat. Stories from when I was a young girl, of the wyverns and their vicious fangs, with jaws strong enough to eat through the scales and bone of the basilisk whole, echoed in my ears. We’ve found burnt carcasses of all sorts of animals, there is no doubt that they indeed spit fire too. I find myself stumbling a bit as I walk. I know I’m past the halfway point after crossing where the Wryn is most shallow, so I take a seat on some nearby stone and catch my breath. Wisps of cloud scatter the perfectly blue sky, it seems endless. To soar through that expanse of sky, free and light, being able to see all of Sothoryos… It makes me believe that the wyverns don’t share our land, but rather, their haven is above it. The walk is all uphill from here, and a continuous cool breeze comes down from Lake Nyw. It’s beautiful. Serene. It’s strange to think that my people were terrified of leaving the village. Many many years ago when they had first settled, I was told that everyone was prohibited from straying from the village. The jungles were filled with dangerous man-eating predators, the plants were poisonous and the diseases, unforgiving. Plague filled the air and insects threatened to bury into the skin. Times back then were hard, not only because of the long pilgrimage north, but fear was ingrained into everyone. Food was scarce for fear of hunting. They had all lived miserably for fear of harvesting materials to build and grow differe--Kata-kata I quickly stand up and look to where I was sitting, a grey lizard skimmied behind the rocks. It’s time I got moving again before the sun begins to set. I grab my bag and hear the sounds of precious stones and bones clash against each other. Are these really good enough offerings for a fire-breathing wyvern? Only a few others before me have went to where the wyverns nest, and only one returned completely unscathed. I’d rather not think about the possible danger, I have faith in my village for choosing me. They all support me, and I don’t doubt my own abilities either. Ever since I was 15, I knew there was something about me that was different from the rest. They had told all of us stories of the jungle stealing children who are lost, how the darkness between the underbrush holds monsters we wouldn’t believe. How they were going to take a group of us kids into the jungle to show us what’s really there. On the walk to the jungle of my 15th year, I felt the same pit in my stomach that I do now. I remember it vividly… My hair was brighter back then, a rich dark brown and very long, to my waist. I loved the way it flowed in the breeze or swayed when I danced. We had all learned how to use weapons, to fight and defend ourselves. On my waist were my favorite daggers that my father had forged for me on my 14th birthday. They were made of black oily stone, the handle of a strong metal with leather to grip. They seemed to dance in my hands while I fought, but I always fought defensively, avoiding everyone’s attacks swiftly and then striking once they left an opening. I got the feeling though that the other children didn’t enjoy my company as much… They all played with each other, but I preferred to be alone anyways. I was in the prime of my childhood, my body was strong and I had always been one of the quickest. A few of the huntsmen were taking us on the path into the jungle. I looked up to the towering trees and I could not see more than a couple trees in. I was nervous, everyone was. After years of avoiding the jungle, they were bringing us to its core. And yet, I had faith in their decision. The huntsmen with us were some of the best, they were brilliant fighters and carried their huge scimitars for cutting through any paths. They were my family and I knew they would protect me. I wished my father would have been in the party, but he said I had to go alone. I didn’t understand what he meant, as I would be with everyone else, and I didn’t understand why until later that day. We had entered the jungle. It wasn’t as dark as I had thought. Light poured down in beams through the canopy, the underbrush wasn’t higher than my knees. Regardless, I clung next to my elders and we continued deeper into the forest. Eventually I started to trail behind everyone. I’d see so many new species of plants that I had never seen before! Plants were taller than me, and there were so many shades of greens and different color plants spotted the ground. I’d see a small rodent scurry away or a tropical bird of bright hues quickly fly away into the canopy. Eventually we passed a small cliffs of stone with multiple waterfalls. There was a large pond, it was different from the Wryn that I had seen my entire life. Its surface was calm and inviting. I heard splashes of fish or other animals living deep in the center of the pond. When I turned, the group had started leaving down another path. I ran to catch up, but stumbled over the roots of the trees. The undergrowth seemed a huge obstacle now. I called out, but the waterfalls covered my voice. The leaves started covering my view, and as I broke into a clearing, I lost them. I didn’t know which direction they went. I started to panic. I yelled at the top of my lungs, and then covered my mouth. I don’t want anything else to find me here. It was still daylight, but I had no idea how to get back to the village nor did I want to get even more lost. As much as I enjoyed being alone, I had never felt the dread of being alone like I did at that moment. I stopped. I grabbed my daggers from my waist and waited. Maybe they would come back this way to return. That would make sense. I sat down, the soil was cool and the air was humid. I jumped at the calling of birds, or the rustling of leaves. I kept turning in circles to keep anything from surprising me. It felt like hours had passed. My stomach rumbled and my mouth was dry. I didn’t know how to survive in here, I didn’t know what plants were edible, what water was free from diseases. I felt like my village abandoned me. I was hopeless. And then. Rustling. To my right, I turned and stood up slowly. I heard, footsteps? But not human ones for sure. I braced myself. It could be any monster, or giant ape that could easily snap me in half, or a huge lizard that would strike me before I could move, or one of the “brindled men” that woul— I heard a long deep tone. It was the lowest pitch I ever heard, a growl? I squinted against the sun and backed up cautiously. A black velvety nose appeared from under the large leaves. Then black fur, and then, eyes. They gleamed yellow, the pupils were large slits, and they were staring intently at me. I held my breath, it felt like the world held its breath. A panther, from what it looked like and what I had been told. A jungle cat that was more than capable of eating me. I stared back into its eyes, and it slowly crept into the clearing with me. I had my daggers up in front of me, and the panther bared its fangs. I realized that no matter how quick I was, I was in a losing battle. I decided, I wouldn’t put up a fight. I slowly knelt down and place my daggers to the side. The panther hid its fangs again and approached me. I watched its movements, it seemed so… open. I remembered when I fought against the other children, I would always look for an opening in their stance to attack. But, the panther didn’t seem guarded. It was an arm’s length away. I was still kneeled on the ground, my head level with its. I don’t know what persuaded me to, as I knew it could cost me my arm and my quick death, but my arm began to lift. I looked into the panther’s eyes and I saw my own. My hand came up and slowly, gingerly, I went to touch him. He looked back, and ever so slightly bowed its head and filled the gap between my hand and the top of its head. That day changed my life forever. I had befriended a wild predator, and it guided me out of the jungle. I turned to say goodbye, and it only looked at me and disappeared in the forest. It felt like a dream. Almost immediately, a search party came on zorses looking for me, and they took me back to the village. I told the other children what had happened and they didn’t believe me. They thought I was making it up. But the rest of the village knew, and there was a giant celebration for me that evening. That night, I thought back on my experience that day, and smiled. Ever since that day, I would go into the forest and the panther was there. I called him Terrax, the name of Jaenara Belaerys’s dragon. Some villagers called him my panther, but the truth is that we are one in the same. He would lay with me and bask in the sun, or we would both hunt together in the jungle. He led me through the different paths, and eventually I learned the land by myself. But I was never alone. I grew up into a fine woman, I think so anyways. My hair is now very short, barely past my ears. I eventually found my father’s daggers, but I now wield a spear and scimitar like a proper explorer. Terrax has also grown tremendously, he even allows me to ride on his back. My bond with him is inexplicable, but I notice that I can take care of animals in ways no one else can. And after almost ten years of developing my bond and connection with animals, they wanted me to visit the wyverns. I’m almost to the nest. Thinking of Terrax, and the years I’ve spent learning and growing stronger, I no longer feel the heaviness in my stomach. I am confident. My village believes in me to do this and I believe in myself. My feet feel lighter as I climb over the last few rocks. Beyond the jutting stones are wyverns, laying in the sun on top of the piles of stone. About three as I can see. I take a deep breath. They are enormous, their heads bigger than my body almost. Their scales look like the strongest of armor, one has green and the other has red and maroon dusty plates covering its flesh. But there’s one wyvern that stands out in the middle of the clearing. It’s larger than the other two, and has golden, yellow scales that almost glisten in the sunlight. It raises its head as I approach. I open my bag and take out the precious gemstones and animal bones. As I’m holding them, I slowly walk towards the wyvern, offering the gifts. The wyvern backs its head away, and I can see the scales around its neck bristle. I start to panic: If it doesn’t like the offering then I might be burnt to a crisp at any moment, or eaten whole for dinner. I stop myself and look into the wyvern’s eyes. And, I see a small hint of something familiar… I place the offerings beside me, and instinctively reach my open hand to the wyvern. It looks at me. Time stops. The wyvern moves its head towards me and I shut my eyes tightly, bracing for the loss of my arm or worse. Then, I feel a weight underneath my palm pushing up. I open my eyes to see the deadliest inhabitant of Sothoryos, a wyvern, open, head bowed, resting my hand on its own head. |
AuthorMy name is Jenna and I am currently a full time undergraduate college student and dreamer. Archives
April 2017
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