RYE - Lessons of the Past

Uax/Old Ones

When asked to tell what she knew of the Uax, a tired countenance came over Isendral’s face. ”I must admit, your people have already learned most things of import about them. Simplicity is the blessing and curse of the Orkead; they are what they are, and never shall they be anything more.”

We have observed this, Ulha’up said. Their selves are an illusion that masks the weapon within.

Isendral nodded. ”And a weapon they are - one that has infested the galaxy for aeons. They plague the stars with sheer numbers, stretching across systems and star clusters like the mold that harbors them. Always they strive to build, to battle, to war against each other and the world in order to grow stronger. Keeping them in check is an endless, impossible task of extermination, one that I have spent lifetimes on.” Her brows met in irritation. ”Know that these ones that trouble you here are the least of their kind, barely even fit for the name greenskin. They are an irritant, and I will be much relieved when your efforts to remove them are complete.”

Her words sent the voices of the Communion to chattering. The slann had many mathematical projections of how the capabilities of the Uax could continue to grow if given certain inputs of time, territory, and conflict. Isendral’s accounts could provide objective data to refine their models with - and if she had experienced Uax conflict for as long as she claimed to, perhaps she might even know something of their origins. Of the Old Ones.

Ulha’up, knowing from his travels amongst the warmbloods that it was often easier to approach the topics one desired to discuss from an oblique angle, distilled the thoughts of his brethren and sent Isendral one of his own. Your experience with them is extensive, then. When was your first encounter?

Isendral was quiet for a time, her expression and thoughts unreadable as her mind cast itself back to her past. ”They are said to derive their origins from the First War,” she said, and the air grew taut at the utterance, as though a weight had fallen upon the air. It was no particular effect that could be articulately described; there was no magic at play, and yet an immediate sense of gravity, of attention from something unspeakably vast, became immediately palpable. For a moment, Isendral met Ulha’up’s eyes, and through his, those of the Sublime Communion. Acknowledgment flashed in the green depths of her gaze, and for an instant, it seemed as if she might speak further.

The moment passed, and the inexplicable sense of pressure vanished. ”I was not there to witness it,” Isendral continued. ”The earliest memories I have of the Orkead come from the wars of the aftermath, when my people fought against the weapons birthed from reality’s fracture and sent them screaming back to the void. It was there that we inherited in truth the mantle of protector that had been left abandoned, and took the galaxy under our stewardship.”

Ulha’up was silent for a moment, processing both his thoughts and the tumult his brethren had raised within his skull at the Eldar’s words. You speak of these events as if they were long passed into the annals of deep time. How long ago were these aftermath wars?

Isendral waved a hand in an agonizingly dismissive motion. “Many lifetimes ago. My people live for millennia, but eventually the world becomes wearisome and our spirits return to the halls of the Creator, to rest and rejuvenate and find our love for life once again. Ages can go by between one’s rebirths if they linger overlong in Asuryan’s court, and though I myself never took especially long hiatuses from the material world, I have lived many, many times. Perhaps a half-billion years have passed since my soul was young and I first took to the stars in battle.”

The word hung in the air, the second paradigm-shifting revelation Isendral had casually thrown out in as many minutes. Five hundred million years. So much time that even the eldest of the slann, who had counted their ages with six glyphs in sequence, were as mayflies next to it. It was a span of time that dwarfed the entire existence of the lizardmen.

And yet.

We have shared our thoughts and learned from each other, Ulha’up sent, his thoughts slow and careful. Through this I have become acquainted with the scope and capacity of your mind. I do not question your word, but how is it that you function? The volume of accumulated thought and memory that much time would imply … ordinary biological data storage would not suffice, even with mental optimization protocols in effect.

”When I am alive, I do not remember,” Isendral said. ”You are right that my body and mind could not handle the scope of all my lives at once. My past lives wait for me in the afterworld, and though I may call upon them at need, I prefer not to. When you have surpassed death itself, and challenge does not exist except at your whim, living in the world is a matter of choosing one’s limitations. I know my incarnations happened, and have recorded their passage in the art of my home, and that is enough. To live my many pasts again would subsume the life I have made here under the weight of their experiences.” The Eldar’s face grew distant, arranging itself into an expression the slann could not parse.

Ulha’up and the Communion digested this information for some minutes. The process and function of such a reincarnation system was a daunting challenge, one that was immediately spun off into a dozen different discussion groups headed by slann who had worked on the Axyotl project. The greater thread of talk held true, however, and a single question was pushed forwards by the collective of slann. The wording of it was quibbled over with great vigor - to ask Isendral to delve into the memories of her past incarnations was clearly not going to happen, and the Communion were well aware of the Eldar’s volatility.

My brethren and I have a question to ask of your history, Ulha’up began. We will not request that you access your previous lives to do so, though that would make answering it a simpler process. He opened his mouth and spoke with the voice of dozens of slann, causing the glyphs on his palanquin to flare with excess magical energies. ”What do you know of the Old Ones?”

Isendral seemed to have been expecting the question, for her answer came with practised ease. ”Truthfully, I had been wondering when you’d ask,” she said. ”You are right that any direct knowledge I have of those who you claim are your progenitors would lie in the depths of my past, but I can tell you easily enough that I have never had any interaction with them, nor know any Eldar who did, save for one. Their days were as distant from my youth as the time of the Kaela Orkan Slidd is from today. There are some in the Dominion who may know more, and I could perhaps help you find them when the current matter is done. Is this answer satisfactory?”

Ulha’up conferred with the other slann, who collectively agreed that while they were by no means assured that Isendral had told them everything she knew, it was best not to press the Eldar for the time being. You have given my kin and I much to ponder, Ul’haup sent. It will suffice.

Glossary: 

Tephex’chuqmundi: Air-ground magic land. Lizardmen designation for Ulthuan.

Ulthuan: Translated literally from eltharin, means Gentle/Welcoming/Serene/Moon Land/Place/Earth/Home. Exact meaning depends on intonation, context, time of day, surrounding words, mood, and gender of the speaker, among other factors.

Itz’xa’khanx: First Instrument of Justified Vengance’s Capture. Lizardmen designation for elves.
Tlozoq: Corrupted/Blasphemous/Tainted. Lizardmen word for a creature that has been corrupted by some sort of outside influence; usually but not necessarily Chaotic.

Orkead - Perhaps obviously, the Eldar word for orks.

Kaela Orkan Slidd - An Eldar phrase meaning ‘bloody green stars’.