The ancient Sage Mother Gwayoon taught that wisdom and power are born of fear. But it must be the right fear.
The jungles of Skurr were filled with predators and parasites. This made the ancestors of the Tordii grow their strong shells and quick minds, and band together to defend their nests. The cycle of storms made the rivers rise and fall. The ancient Tordii banded together to build high walls to protect their creches, and they learned the skills they needed to divert floodwaters into reservoirs to last the dry times. They feared they might run out of food, and so they learned to cultivate fields and tame animals.
Fear of not being chosen to mate drove male Tordii to excel. Fear of choosing poorly drove female Tordii to be careful. Fear of being alone spurred both to stay close to their Kiith and Clutchmates. Fear of the unknown caused scholars to study and sages to meditate. Fear of being unable to defend their Kiith caused warriors to hone their skills.
But some fears that seem righteous prove disastrous in the end. Fear of running out of resources caused strong Kiith to victimize the weak. Fear of being victims caused Kiith to join together, to be strong and victimize others first. Stone spearheads shattered on copper armor, which was cleaved by bronze axes, which were helpless against a rain of iron arrowheads, which bounced off steel armor which was like paper before powder and shot. Ever greater grew the weapons, ever larger the aggregations of power, ever hungrier the machinery of war.
Three hundred years ago, this engine, fueled by the wrong fear, seemed unstoppable and inevitable. All of Skurr was held in sway to two Great Mothers, Danu of the Sacred Waters and Daurr of the Great Southern Basking. They commanded and millions toiled. They spoke and millions died. They held the reigns of the great machines that their societies had become.
And they lived in terror. Both knew that the slightest mistake would doom them and their billions of subjects. They knew that they must always be vigilant for such a mistake on the other's part. And when that opportunity came, they knew they must strike ruthlessly themselves. They knew there was no other way. They knew there was no escape.
A generation hatched, came of age, and died in cities where the sound of guns never ceased. Mountains of broken shells accumulated, lives spent to shift a line of trenches forward a few hextres. Danu hoped to end it all with her great new weapon, built in secret: a massive armada of airships, laden with a new generation of poisonous gases slightly stronger than the ones already in daily use on the battlefield.
In the Shattering Night the final stroke fell. From the skies the guns belched fire and poison on the city of Chaur. Millions died before light came. The city was vital to the Southern defenses, and a billion soldiers waited the word to die in the long sought decisive battle before Daurr's troops could regroup. Danu, last and greatest Warrior Mother, beheld her great victory from her flagship.
When light touched the city, Danu beheld the depth of her failure. And she wept. For at last she understood that she, and Daurr, and everyone in the world had been wrong.
They feared wrong. They feared what each other would do if they gained power over them. They should have feared what they were capable of themselves.
The great battle never came. Danu ordered her troops back. And she surrendered to her foe.
On a small unsettled island Danu and Daurr met at last. Danu begged for forgiveness. Daurr confessed to her truth. She had prepared a similar force. Danu's fleet was just ready a Turning earlier. Alone they beheld each other, and saw a mirror of their own wretchedness. At the same time they spoke, saying the same thing.
"This has to stop."
For a full Turning the two matriarchs saw no one but each other. All Skurr waited for the wheels of slaughter to start turning again. But when they returned to their capitols, Danu and Daurr ordered their soldiers home. They ordered their munitions destroyed. They began clearing the minefields and filling in the trenches. They sent forth the word.
There would be no more fighting. No more competing with one another for advantage. There would be a real peace, true and lasting. Daurr's daughter and heir Tiir would breed with Danu's son Jor. From them would hatch Harr, the first Magistrix of a united world government, the Tordukan Magistry.
Many were skeptical. But over the long, slow passing of the next two generations peace was discovered to be powerful in its own right. Now that all Tordii had seen the face of what they should truly fear they worked as strongly to fight it as their ancestors had wild beasts and raging weather. The Great Laws of Peace were developed to bing all the Kiith together in unity without victimization.
As science advanced and created more and greater machines, time and again a Tordus would hear of it and say, "It is good this did not happen before the peace." Great as the terrors the Wise Mothers unleashed on each other were, who could imagine what would have happened if one could split an atom, or put objects in orbit?
When Harr at last died, she was followed by Hurr. Hurr was proclaimed Mother of Mothers, Keeper of Peace, and She Who Bears Us All Upon Her Shell. Hurr was charged with leading her species as they began to explore the world beyond their own.
And she was afraid.
The jungles of Skurr were filled with predators and parasites. This made the ancestors of the Tordii grow their strong shells and quick minds, and band together to defend their nests. The cycle of storms made the rivers rise and fall. The ancient Tordii banded together to build high walls to protect their creches, and they learned the skills they needed to divert floodwaters into reservoirs to last the dry times. They feared they might run out of food, and so they learned to cultivate fields and tame animals.
Fear of not being chosen to mate drove male Tordii to excel. Fear of choosing poorly drove female Tordii to be careful. Fear of being alone spurred both to stay close to their Kiith and Clutchmates. Fear of the unknown caused scholars to study and sages to meditate. Fear of being unable to defend their Kiith caused warriors to hone their skills.
But some fears that seem righteous prove disastrous in the end. Fear of running out of resources caused strong Kiith to victimize the weak. Fear of being victims caused Kiith to join together, to be strong and victimize others first. Stone spearheads shattered on copper armor, which was cleaved by bronze axes, which were helpless against a rain of iron arrowheads, which bounced off steel armor which was like paper before powder and shot. Ever greater grew the weapons, ever larger the aggregations of power, ever hungrier the machinery of war.
Three hundred years ago, this engine, fueled by the wrong fear, seemed unstoppable and inevitable. All of Skurr was held in sway to two Great Mothers, Danu of the Sacred Waters and Daurr of the Great Southern Basking. They commanded and millions toiled. They spoke and millions died. They held the reigns of the great machines that their societies had become.
And they lived in terror. Both knew that the slightest mistake would doom them and their billions of subjects. They knew that they must always be vigilant for such a mistake on the other's part. And when that opportunity came, they knew they must strike ruthlessly themselves. They knew there was no other way. They knew there was no escape.
A generation hatched, came of age, and died in cities where the sound of guns never ceased. Mountains of broken shells accumulated, lives spent to shift a line of trenches forward a few hextres. Danu hoped to end it all with her great new weapon, built in secret: a massive armada of airships, laden with a new generation of poisonous gases slightly stronger than the ones already in daily use on the battlefield.
In the Shattering Night the final stroke fell. From the skies the guns belched fire and poison on the city of Chaur. Millions died before light came. The city was vital to the Southern defenses, and a billion soldiers waited the word to die in the long sought decisive battle before Daurr's troops could regroup. Danu, last and greatest Warrior Mother, beheld her great victory from her flagship.
When light touched the city, Danu beheld the depth of her failure. And she wept. For at last she understood that she, and Daurr, and everyone in the world had been wrong.
They feared wrong. They feared what each other would do if they gained power over them. They should have feared what they were capable of themselves.
The great battle never came. Danu ordered her troops back. And she surrendered to her foe.
On a small unsettled island Danu and Daurr met at last. Danu begged for forgiveness. Daurr confessed to her truth. She had prepared a similar force. Danu's fleet was just ready a Turning earlier. Alone they beheld each other, and saw a mirror of their own wretchedness. At the same time they spoke, saying the same thing.
"This has to stop."
For a full Turning the two matriarchs saw no one but each other. All Skurr waited for the wheels of slaughter to start turning again. But when they returned to their capitols, Danu and Daurr ordered their soldiers home. They ordered their munitions destroyed. They began clearing the minefields and filling in the trenches. They sent forth the word.
There would be no more fighting. No more competing with one another for advantage. There would be a real peace, true and lasting. Daurr's daughter and heir Tiir would breed with Danu's son Jor. From them would hatch Harr, the first Magistrix of a united world government, the Tordukan Magistry.
Many were skeptical. But over the long, slow passing of the next two generations peace was discovered to be powerful in its own right. Now that all Tordii had seen the face of what they should truly fear they worked as strongly to fight it as their ancestors had wild beasts and raging weather. The Great Laws of Peace were developed to bing all the Kiith together in unity without victimization.
As science advanced and created more and greater machines, time and again a Tordus would hear of it and say, "It is good this did not happen before the peace." Great as the terrors the Wise Mothers unleashed on each other were, who could imagine what would have happened if one could split an atom, or put objects in orbit?
When Harr at last died, she was followed by Hurr. Hurr was proclaimed Mother of Mothers, Keeper of Peace, and She Who Bears Us All Upon Her Shell. Hurr was charged with leading her species as they began to explore the world beyond their own.
And she was afraid.
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