This is a companion-piece to my other Story, Sapience. While this one-shot is not required for reading Sapience, and this one-shot doesn't need to be read after Sapience: the two are connected. If nothing else: the same set of rules for Yautja language are used in both, so if you haven't read Sapience, you might miss a few word's meanings, here and there.

This one-shot is essentially a giant excuse for me to showcase my head-canon for what the Yautja pantheon of gods looks like. Said pantheon will be the basis for any Yautja theology I feature in my stories, so consider this a "Sapience worldbuilding episode".

This takes place around 60 Yautja-days (87.5 "human" days) before the events of Sapience.

I wrote this one-shot over the course of five days. If you like any of the ideas I come up with, here, feel free to gyp them.


Sapience: Chronicles of the Dark Blade — Pantheon

Homeworld, Yautja Prime — 2,576th Year After the Filial Schism (AFS), 44th Day of Day's Work...

A lesser temple to the Gods, within Dark Blade Clan territory...

Toh'ruuk-Vahnsii'ah The Humble, "Ruuk-Sii" to those in her confidence, (1) opened her eyes with what looked to be weary optimism. A repetitive, keening whistle-sound woke her— the alarm.

She ratcheted upwards, sitting up in her bed. Her head lolled lazily as blood rushed to it, and she stretched languidly, drawing a series of pops from her back and a long groan from her throat.

Of average build and height for a female Yautja, Ruuk-Sii stood at 8.2 noks tall, with the pale-yellow hide typical of the Dark Blade, but all across her body were flecks of sandy orange, forming a "disk" of rust on her forehead. She was young, for a priestess, barely two-hundred-ninety, but she carried herself with all the age and caution of an Elder— often to the chagrin of her peers and the concern of her actual elders. Her build was unremarkably buxom by Yautja standards, though her thin limbs and lighter muscle-mass made her recognizable as, if not a priestess, specifically, at least as a scholar. Her tabū'koti were somewhat longer than the average, coming down to the middle of her shoulder-blades, and held a yellow shine to them when a light is shined on them. Her eyes, viewed through a Bio-Mask, glowed a blazing yellow with a black pupil.

Ruuk-Sii shook her head vigorously, letting her own tresses slap her into being wider awake. She flexed her mandibles in wide circles and threw herself sideways, rolling off of the circular, stone platform her bed-fabrics sat upon. Slowly dragging herself to her feet from the floor, she stumblingly trudged to the door of her chambers and lazily punched the large, octagonal button on the wall to shut off the alarm.

When the keening twinge in her ears finally stopped... her eyes closed and her mandibles slackened, as she sighed and rested her head on the wall. She'd been waking up at 24•25 Passive (two cycles before sunrise) for the last three years, and it never got any easier. Evidently, she had not been made a sunriser. She stepped away from the wall, turned to her left, and trudged toward the washing-room just to the right of her bed.

She relieved herself, stood beneath a blisteringly-cold downpour of water, applied cleansing-powder, rinsed under a blisteringly-hot downpour of water, dried off by kneeling upon a soft rug and doing her morning prayers for ten units, straight, and finally stood before a mirror, carefully slipping the decorative beads and piercings onto the tips of her plaits.
Like all Yautja, she could see the red, orange, yellow, and white wavelengths of visible-light. This ability to see said light-wavelengths, however, was most often overshadowed by the Yautja's natural infrared-vision. Yautja could see enough light to make out more detail in objects than if they only saw in infrared, but it made looking into a mirror difficult. One often had to squint and strain their eyes to see the light past the heat— some had a genetic quirk that allowed them to switch between one or the other, easily, with little more than a twitch of their eye-muscles. As such, the mirror she stood before had a ring of "cold", heat-capturing lightbulbs around it, showering her with a mix of crimson and yellow, and allowing her to see herself in the glass far more easily. It sometimes amazed her how her ancestors had achieved any amount of technology, at all, before Bio-Masks allowed them to see other spectrums of energy, but she supposed innovation knew no obstacle— the gods would not have given the Yautja their blessing if they could never have advanced past basic computing.

That done, she walked out of the washing-room and toward the wooden doors set into the opposite wall of her chambers, and threw them open; revealing a horde of identical, pressed and cleaned robes, all hung upon a metal frame, which could spin when pushed. She snatched one and shoved it over and onto her nude body with all the care one might treat an old boot.

The robes, themselves, were standard for priestesses of her age and rank— a simple, brown, leather cloak with long sleeves and a hood, big enough to be used as a blanket. She could wear it in the midst of a hurricane with nothing underneath, and she would barely feel the smallest breeze— its weight such that only the greatest of gusts could lift its hem. She used to find its weight comforting, in a way, though now: it was merely irritating. She yanked it onto her shoulders, pushed her arms into the sleeves, and used the tips of her claws to pull out the tying-twine coiled within the collar, and weave it through the series of holes on either side of its front, hemming the two sides together, and concealing 90% of her body, apart from her shins and feet. She finally bent down and tied the twine in a knot around the metal clip near the bottom of the robe, ensuring no unintentional wardrobe-malfunction.

Having finished getting dressed, Ruuk-Sii rubbed at her eyes and blindly padded over to the door of her chambers, slipping her feet into the sandals on the floor. Simultaneously, she grabbed the Bio-Mask from its hanging-peg to the left of the door, and took it in her hands.

Of black-color and gold eye-lenses, with almost no features beyond that— no markings, indentations, no armor-plating. Simple and reserved, more than enough for a priestess of Paya. She slipped it onto her face, took a deep breath... and grabbed the rotating handle of her door, turning it to the left, and making it click when it became horizontal.

Pushing it open, she found herself mask-to-identical-mask with her colleague, as he quickly hopped back from her door and pointed at her, no doubt grinning.

Ruuk-Sii rolled her eyes beneath her mask and stepped out into the stone hallway, as her male counterpart chimed, "still slow by fifteen units, Ruuk-Sii! It's like you're not even trying to beat me".

"That's because I'm not trying", she drawled, irritably, already turning and walking away. Her colleague, K'hekvii'a-Tans'ur The Unchanging (2), had been waking up and getting ready earlier than her, practically every day, for the past year, and he seemed to treat it as a competition. Then again, he treated everything like a competition.

"Well, what's yanked on your plaits, this time?", he asked, ever cheerfully, as he walked along just behind her, "you usually at least attempt to sound angry about losing". It sometimes surprised her how self-aware he could be, and how well he actually knew her mannerisms, but she had to remind herself that his perpetually-chipper attitude belied a keen eye and a wise soul. Years of enduring his hijinks had ground her patience to dullness, and she silently apologized to Paya for allowing petty grievance to sway her.

"It is nothing, Vii-Tan", she said, kinder this time, "I am just... out-of-sorts. Forgive me".

"Ah", he said, "... `out-of-sorts`, she says. Hm. Is it mating-season, already?".

"Oh, shut up!", she snapped, whipping out her arm and thumping him on his shoulder. He simply laughed, to himself, and rubbed his arm while she shook her head and stomped forward, lunging after her and replying, "I've used that one at least a dozen times, by now, you have to have gotten used to it!".

She didn't bother responding, simply pulling up and yanking down her hood over her Bio-Mask, a non-negotiable sign that she was finished talking, for the time being. He was polite enough to take the hint this time, and simply walked in silence with her as they made their way to the mess-hall

K'hekvii'a-Tans'ur was a heavier-set male of average height, a nok shorter than her, though respectable in fitness. When he'd first come to the temple to learn the doctrines of Soortzehn, she initially found him unremarkable... then she found him endearing. For a short while, she developed somewhat of a pining for him— revived occasionally, each year. Nothing ever came of it, and she took great pains to keep it hidden. Their relationship had taken a fraternal bend the longer they'd known each other, and he brilliantly filled the role of "blood-brother", to her— a role filled by none, before him.

She'd originally found it difficult to treat him like a partner in faith, rather than like a male, and herself as a female— all of the expectations and pressures on how to behave in wider society were erased the moment one stepped through the temple-doors, let alone became priests or priestesses. "Inside the halls of Paya's Chosen, even Bad Bloods and Arbitrators stand equal". Eventually, though, she found it refreshing to not have to talk down to him or assert herself, constantly, and he'd previously shared that he found it equally refreshing not to have to "act like an abused hound" and "simper", and "watch his every step and gesture" around her, as he liked to put it. It made her think, sometimes...

His Bio-Mask was identical to hers, though his robes were entirely different. As a priest of Soortzehn, he wore crimson Quatza'rij leather— a complex set of straps wrapping around the shoulders, arms, and legs. She used to find that the outfit was unflattering on him, but as he'd been fasting intermittently since the start of his theological education: it grew on her.

As the pair strolled forward through the dark hallway of the dormitory-wing, they passed at least a two-dozen doors on either side that led to resting-chambers similar to their own— all empty. The hallway was hewn of smooth limestone— dark gray, with an arched ceiling that gave the hall an appearance close to a triangular tunnel. Carpets and banners, made of varying hides and tapestries of beast skin, scale, fur, and chitin adorned almost every other jorren of flooring and wall, meant to be comforting and homely for acolytes after a long day's work, though, to her it seemed merely... depressing.

The dormitory-wing comprised only a fifth of the totality of the temple, and was situated at the south-east side of it. As the two reached the end of the dorms, they passed through an archway with a screen of hanging chimes and beads made of bone, coming out into the central antechamber, a circular area with a ceiling that soared up at least four stories, coming to a central point at its peak; painted glass windows stretching radially up the tower's sides, each one depicting a different deity, designed to heat up or cool down at different rates according to exposure to the twin-suns. Gargoyle-esque statues of the heads of varying types of Ahgai'Palak sprang from the wall beneath each window- all of them cast and built from molds of actual Kiande Admeha skulls.

At the center of the antechamber's floor sat a deep, ten-nok wide pit, in which a bonfire blazed and filled the space with a golden, wholesome glow. It used to be that a crew was needed to keep the bonfire burning, day and night, in ancient days, and Ruuk-Sii was glad that they need only occasionally refill the hydrogen-tanks.

Situated radially around the bonfire, were eight statues for each of the gods, aligning with the corresponding window depicting each. Each statue was hewn from a different stone, such that each maintained a different temperature with the fire at each of their "backs".

The antechamber also served as the central junction for all the other wings of the temple— the entrance-hall just to the left of the dormitory, and going counter-clockwise, were: the meditation-wing, the offices, the Hall of the Triumvirate (situated opposite of the entrance, and pointing north), the hall to the kehrite, the library (to the west), and the hydroponics-farm. From above: the temple appeared to be in the shape of a star or sun. Not a typical arrangement, but then again: even within the same Clan, each temple is unique.

Ruuk-Sii and Vii-Tan walked around the bonfire and toward the entrance-hall. A short stroll through a hall of decorative bas-reliefs and on both walls (depicting the sagas of the faith) and banners hanging from the ceiling with prayers and passages to remind visitors where they're going, and to remind those leaving to keep what they've learned in mind. Each banner, of course, made of metal with heated text.

The pair came out of the temple and exited out into a stone-floored courtyard, fifty noks across and seventy noks long, wherein tables sat in the center, situated around another bonfire made for cooling. And there, to neither of their surprise, was Vituunko'dra-Saartor'ven The Seasoned (3), the head-priestess of the entire temple. She was spinning the skinned and flayed corpse of some creature on a spit, over the fire.

The pair of them groaned to one another, shaking their heads, at having been beaten to breakfast yet again for the millionth time. Supposedly, Vituu'Saar slept in the dormitory-wing just the same as them, yet for all their years living in the temple: they had never seen her leave or enter any of the dorm-rooms, let alone caught her without her official robes. As head-priestess, she wore the chitin and bones of Ahgai'Palak Queens and Royal Guards all about her body, atop tough, pale leather. Largely the cut and carved-up crests and appendages of said creatures— Queen finger-bones forming a "choker" around the neck, a Nrak'ytara's frontal chest-armor covering her own, and the jaws of Queens capping the shoulders. Royal-Guard crests covering the thighs and knees. Much of the outfit was made from the body-parts of beasts that the woman had slain, personally.

The only thing missing was a Bio-Mask, though Ruuk-Sii had only ever seen Vituu'Saar wear one on a handful of occasions. For whatever reason, Ruuk-Sii's grandmother preferred not to wear one.

The pair walked toward their elder and, as was expected of them, both dropped to a knee and bowed their heads in respect. Not just because Vituu'Saar was their direct superior, but also because she was eight-hundred-fifty-three years old— more than the two of them, combined. As they knelt upon the perfectly-cut smooth-stone, bleached white by so many years under the twin-suns, Ruuk-Sii couldn't help but take subtle glances at her grandmother.

For her age, she'd only slowed down enough that Hunting and combat were inconvenient— her body retained much of its muscle and springiness, and had only began to thin-out in terms of fat-deposits. Ruuk-Sii could only hope to look half as elegant at half Vituu'Saar's age, and the head-priestess could very well live to twelve-hundred. Her age was only obvious due to the paling of her flesh (which, incidentally, had near-identical patterning to Ruuk-Sii's own) and the fraying of the ends of her tabū'koti, now grayed and mottled from the youthful, shiny black.

Vituu'Saar took her time in rotating the stuck-beast once more, before turning to her disciples and bowing to them, sagely, signaling them to rise. "Good morning, Vii-Tan, granddaughter", she said with a patience that staggered the mind, voice worn soft and crackly.

"Good morning, mistress", they both answered, in unison.

"You're just in time, the Gar'vilk was just about ready", the elder said, for the thousandth time that year, as the pair went and sat next to each other at a table. They waited quietly as their elder eventually removed the roasted carcass from the spit with a pair of tongs, and placed it onto a large platter.

Vituu'Saar sat across from the two, as all three subsequently removed their masks, took up forks, and carved out their own shares of the meal. Warm, slightly charred, unseasoned, but filling.

As Ruuk-Sii ate, her mind wandered to distant places. She didn't notice both Vii-Tan and Vituu'Saar glancing at her as they exchanged pleasantries. It wasn't like her to say nothing, in the morning.

As the first of the two suns rose a thumb's width above the horizon, and as all three acolytes retreated back into the temple, the elder and the male both made mental notes to ask her what was wrong, later. For now: they had work to do...


Toh'ruuk-Vahnsii'ah knelt on the floor of one of the meditation-hall's rooms. She'd finished watering all of the naxa-trees and Biltu-bushes, finished dusting all of the bas-reliefs and statues, and finished cleaning the kehrite. Vii-Tan was off, checking the plumbing and heating-systems of the temple, down in the basement, while Vituu'Saar was busy with document-work in her office. Ruuk-Sii had little better to do than meditate, at least until the evening-chores came. She'd been at it for thirty units, attuning herself to the sound of the cracks and pops of the myriad of candles, set up in a wide circle around the room- the sound-proof walls designed to eliminate as much unnecessary noise, within and without, as possible.

However, she could never quite get her heart to slow, nor her mind to quiet, as much as she'd used to. She valued her meditation-time, as it gave her a measure of peace, to be alone with her thoughts. But being alone with your thoughts wasn't the point of meditation— seeking the gods' presence and inviting them into your soul was.

She huffed to herself, the sound of her own breath reverberating around the chamber. She stared at the array of candles before her, trying to see some answers or secrets in their flames... only to scrape her tusks together and scratch her forehead.

She was about to get up and leave... only to be stopped by a three-tone chime from her Bio-Mask, on the floor next to her.

A visitor, she realized, slapping the mask to her face and watching the small, scrolling text on the left of its display. An adult female and four younglings, a girl and a boy, waiting at the front door. Ruuk-Sii waited for any other signal, before a message from Vituu'Saar popped up on the mask's display, telling her to attend to the pilgrims.

She took a deep breath, and got up, leaving the room and pressing a button on the wall next to the heavy, stone door, activating the fans and sucking out all of the oxygen and creating a vacuum in the meditation-chamber— putting out the candles and keeping it sterile.

As she fast-walked out of the meditation-wing and to the entrance-hall, she wondered what the visitors might be here for.

There are two pups, so they might be here to petition for training— which will end up being my job, given that I'm the only one here with experience in training children. Or they're here to ask for a blessing of some sort, which will wind up being grandmother's task. Maybe clothing or a weapon, for Vii-Tan to make? Why would anyone come here in the middle of the day, in any case– does the mother not have a trade to practice?

Walking up to the door of the temple, Ruuk-Sii tapped a button on the inside of her Bio-Mask with her tusk, switching the vision-mode to "Ooman", pulled on her hood, and slowly pulled open the large, circular, wooden slab, wrapped in wrought-iron.

Before her stood, as expected, a woman and two pups. What surprised her was their appearance— their skin all varying shades of deep red, with stark-white patterns all about their bodies.

Definitely not of the Dark Blade, then, she surmised, as she observed the woman tap the younglings on their shoulders, and all three of them bowed their heads, respectfully.

The adult woman clasped her hands together, and asked Ruuk-Sii, at length, "hello, honored priestess. Would it be permissible to ask for my children to be tutored in the faith? I am uncertain how religious teachings work in this Clan— I and a few of my cousins recently qualified to join".
The woman had dainty mandibles and deep-set eyes— striking streaks of bright white framing her neck and either side of her head. She spoke in an accent Ruuk-Sii didn't recognize, and she had to make an effort not to be distracted by the woman's beauty— her breasts being large and hips wide, even by Yautja standards, and her skin being abnormally smooth and shiny. That she wore a long, knee-length, form-fitting gown of expensive-looking, silky fabric was part of it.

Ruuk-Sii presumed that they'd joined the Dark Blade Clan under the Two-Thirds Policy. That being that if a large group of individuals from a different Clan wished to join, and happened to all be closely-related: only two-thirds of them (or a close-enough percentage) needed to reach the rank of Elite to be allowed in.

Ruuk-Sii answered the woman's question, "it is, although I would ask how precisely you'd like your children to be tutored...", she said, looking down at the two. "There are many aspects of the faith, much of which takes many hours of learning to comprehend".

The two pups were typical for their age— likely about seven or eight in "Ooman years". Heads that seemed too large for their shoulders, large eyes, chubby mandibles, only as tall as her hip, and wire-thin tresses. They stared up at her with a mixture of reverence and uncertainty, which was a refreshing change from the boredom that most pups displayed. It wasn't immediately obvious which was the boy or girl, as Yautja weren't especially sexually-dimorphic until they reached adolescence, and both of them had simple, small cloaks on.

Must be a custom of their Clan to dress in one-piece over-alls...

The woman placed a hand on both of their heads, and said, "well, my mother neglected to ever take them for temple sermons, and I had to take the chance to have them learn something of the gods, today, as we have a busy month planned". Her upper and lower mandibles clenched together and splayed out to either side in a cringe, "I... would be remiss to ask for a simple coverage of all the aspects, if it is too much trouble".

Ruuk-Sii nodded, understandingly, momentarily turning her head to one side and pressing a button with her mandible to mute her voice outside the mask, while tapping another button to send a message to Vituu'Saar's office-computer, saying "honored mistress, how should I approach this, precisely?", knowing that the head-priestess will have been listening in via the temple's security-camera, perched just above the door.
Ruuk-Sii waited six heartbeats, before receiving a text-notification on her mask's display, saying, simply: "improvise. I should like to see how well you know the scriptures, and how easily you can bring it to bear".
Ruuk-Sii knew better than to ask how the head-priestess would observe without being directly involved, as Vituu'Saar had a way of seeing and hearing more than people thought she could. So, Ruuk-Sii turned back to the woman and her children, and said, "you may enter, and I shall give unto your pups the essentials of what they need to know".

"Thank you, very much, honored priestess", the woman said, ushering the younglings through the doorframe and stepping in, herself.

"Inside these walls, `Ruuk-Sii` will suffice", she corrected, "all stand equal within the temple", stepping aside and holding open the door as the pups wandered in and slowly crept along, sticking close to one another as they swiftly became captivated with the bas-reliefs on the wall.

Ruuk-Sii subtly cracked her neck to either side as her guests walked ahead through the entrance-hall, all taking their time to take in the decorations. It sometimes surprised her how much fascination people could take with it, but she had to remind herself that such decoration was uncommon outside the largest ziggurats. She slowly walked ahead five jorrens, into the antechamber, hands hidden within her sleeves, and stood by, waiting for the three to meet her, there.

It took them a while, so she quickly went over in her head how to go about the ordeal.

When they finally came to antechamber, Ruuk-Sii beckoned them and brought them toward the Hall of the Triumvirate, saying, "if you would please follow me, we can begin the lesson where every good story begins. At the beginning".

"This temple is rather quiet. Are there many other acolytes?", the woman asked, holding both of the pups' hands as she stared up at the immense height of the tower's interior. The whispers of wonderment from the children made her smile under her mask.

"This temple is rather out-of-the-way, and there have never been more than a dozen to staff it. There are four others who live and work here, though only two of them are present at the moment, as the other two have gone to meet with other religious leaders in the Dark Blade", Ruuk-Sii admitted.

As they entered the Hall of the Triumvirate, they found the hall rather barren but for a simple, long carpet and decorative pillars to either side. The hall led to a triangular room, at its end, with the statues of the three Triumvirs in each of its corners. These statues were all made of obsidian, were each a jorren-and-a-half tall, and were painstakingly painted from head to toe in detail untaken for the other gods. Stopping in the center of the triangle, Ruuk-Sii turned and waited for the three to be done marveling at the splendor.

Once they had... she began...


The story of our universe begins with The Three Avatars. The Triumvirate.

When the universe was dark, and all was silent, there was only one God. Diirainohl— the Avatar of Time and the Dictator of Reality's Rhythm; The One Who Set the Stage, and The Primordial Watcher. All that was, all that is, and all that ever will be: has been seen by Diirainohl, and will be witnessed by her when it comes to pass. Without her, time would not budge an inch, and without time moving onwards: the universe would never have germinated from its World-Seed. Diirainohl sets the pace of all of reality, and she is the reason we know of the coming of the End-Times. Only she is certain to survive the end of the universe, and it is from her that we have our understanding of Time, itself. Diirainohl is generally depicted as a many-eyed, floating spirit, with her limbs and body appearing to warp and change from one side to the other, as though distorted by movement-blur or time-dilation. Her symbol is that of a sundial, and she is recently culturally-associated with the "Queen Mother", the speculated progenitor of all Ahgai'Palak in the Great Wheel.

Only when all of existence first burst forth from out of the World-Seed… did the universe grow. And only when it grew did life first begin— life that came into existence because of, and in tandem with, the birth of The Second Avatar and God, Lyzatsad. Lyzatsad: the Avatar of Life, Nature, and Natural Selection; he is The One Who Sings Upon It, and is The Arch-Progenitor. He gave rise to all other Gods, after him, and gave rise to all that lives on every planet and moon, and every other corner of the Great Wheel where life dares to sprout. He does not think, he does not feel, he does not act: he simply exists… and sings the Timeless Chorus of Life and Evolution. In him, the Unassailable Truth is made apparent— that being: that life will always persevere, that life will always adapt, and that adaptation means survival. Lyzatsad is generally depicted as an endless mass of roots, veins, and thumping hearts, with a sleeping, oaken face at its center— green and crimson mist pouring from his open maw. His symbol is that of a fang impaling a leaf, and he is recently culturally-associated with Ahgai'Palak Sain'ja, though he used to be associated with all of Ahgai'Palak kind.

However: minutes after Lyzatsad began his song, The Third Avatar emerged in the wake of his music. Cetanu: the Avatar of Death and Entropy; The One Who Eventually Wins All Battles, The Final Challenger— The Black Warrior. Just as life first sprang forth upon the Great Wheel, it could only, in turn, give birth to Death. And with that: Cetanu took her place at the apex of the Triumvirate, harvesting all that Lyzatsad produces, as Diirainohl can do nothing but watch. Cetanu is generally depicted as a looming, cloaked beast— only a roiling ocean of knives, teeth, bones, and blood being visible in the gaps of its robe, with impossibly-long blades springing from where arms should be, each dripping with venom and plasma. Her symbol is that of a jawless-skull, and she is recently culturally-associated with Ahgai'Palak Empresses.

Three Avatars — of Time, Life, and Death; Diirainohl, Lyzatsad, and Cetanu — are the foundation upon which all that we know of is built. When the End Times come: Cetanu will finally attempt to destroy Lyzatsad, once and for all, after countless millennia of reaping all that which the Avatar of Life grows. The One Who Set the Stage, The One Who Sings Upon It... and she who seeks the destruction of it all. For all of the next eternity, Lyzatsad would sing life into existence, Cetanu would strike down and harvest all that lives, and Diirainohl would bear witness to every, single moment of it.

It is in the shadow of The Triumvirate that all of the other Gods soon came to be— the first of them, on his own, and then the rest in pairs. As the inevitable, eternal cycle of life, death, decay, and renewal took hold in the universe, it was only natural that a new God would form in reaction to it. The first was...

Naalkagaar, The One Who Knows No Shame. The Defiler. The God of Hedonism, Dishonor, Gluttony, Treason, and Cowardice. The arch-enemy of all mortalkind, and the patron of Bad Bloods. The dark influencer who draws all good Yautja into lives of pursuing pleasure for pleasure's sake, and into the foul pits of nihilism. Naalkagaar is the primordial representation of what happens to a mortal when they succumb to existentialism, and the failure to cope with strife. Any who fall to its temptations will have their souls taken by it, and they'll be forced to live on in the Realm of Excess, after death— to be subject to The Defiler's sadistic whims, and in turn, force their own sadism upon their peers. It is the Consumer of Nihilists and the Unrepentant. It is the ultimate evil. It is the only God for whom no attempt to create a depiction of is made— though it is commonly thought to be a slavering, unceasingly-festering collection of gnashing maws and diseased genitals; any foolish enough to "follow" Naalkagaar's "teachings" are swiftly culled from wider society. It is recently culturally-associated with U'darahje. Abominations. PredAliens. Also associated with the Drukathi, though, not quite as much. Its symbol is that of a bottomless-throat.

For some time, Naalkagaar was all that had any sway over the living beings of the universe. It, after all, is a product of the mortal fear of death, and the failure to seek higher virtues. Naalkagaar would not, however, be allowed to rule the mortal plane, unopposed. For soon came...

Edelrho, The One Who Knows No Fear. The Missing One. The Goddess of Hope, Virtue, and Bravery. She is the glorious beacon of progress who disappeared shortly after the dawn of time, and who gave to Paya the instructions that would later become the Honor Code that all Yautja follow. She is primordial representation of perfection, and the only being in existence to have discovered the secret of immortality and an end to strife— She is The Shepherd of All Who are Worthy. She is not very well-understood, and that is by design, and so all depictions of her are often blank or made deliberately confusing. Her symbol is that of a star. Alongside Edelrho, came her brother...

Maaltanurz, The One Who Knows No Rest. The Punisher. The God of Discipline, Penance, Sacrifice, Martyrdom, Spite, and Hatred. He was the brother of Edelrho, and used to be the same as her in every way. But when she found the path to eternal salvation and traveled to the afterlife to prepare it for the coming of the End Times, she offered him this same place in paradise. Maaltanurz could have gone with her... but recognized that if The Defiler was allowed to corrupt the souls of mortals, unabated, that all of mortalkind would eventually see The Defiler's realm of sadomasochistic lunacy as a type of salvation, in itself— just to escape oblivion.

So: Maaltanurz chose the path of perpetual torment and threw himself into the Realm of Excess, to spend the rest of time locked in constant battle with Naalkagaar, and taking whatever opportunity he can to punish and destroy the souls of those who wound up there. He is the reason Naalkagaar can only influence the universe sparingly, and he is the reason that The Defiler cannot offer salvation to his misbegotten slaves and cattle. To save the souls of all mortalkind, Maaltanurz sacrificed his happiness and all of his immeasurable time, for all eternity: in making certain that The Defiler remained at bay and that the Realm of Excess would be a place of torment and destruction for all who dared to stray from Edelrho's light. He is the reason we know that it is okay to be depressed or downtrodden, at times, but that we should never give up or give in— even as our suffering cultivates bitterness, and our sadness turns to hate. So long as you keep to The Path, you will eventually be freed of your shackles, no matter the darkness in your heart.

Maaltanurz, for these reasons and more, is widely believed to be the patron and punisher of all Kv'var-de'ul'Thei-de (4). And so, the Bio-Masks worn by those dishonored with the Title "Lone Wolf", are designed with Maaltanurz's "Thorns of Spite" about their crown, and have written on the forehead, the phrase: "may your devastating fall from glory allow others to achieve that same height"; one of the more poignant excerpts from the oldest saga written about Maaltanurz's story.
To "follow" Maaltanurz, as one might follow the other Gods, is generally seen as a bad omen, for who would wish to follow the martyred one into such a hell? There are, though, those that identify with The Punisher and follow his example in serving the Clan without complaint and sacrificing for the greater good. Maaltanurz is generally depicted as a hulking, lonesome figure, wielding a massive cleaver-blade, with a cape of shackles and flails wrapped about his shoulders, dragging on the ground, behind him. His symbol is that of a blood-soaked fist.

The Siblings of Pinnacle and Pain, Edelrho and Maaltanurz, are both culturally-associated with the Yautja as a whole, and represent the twin responses to nihilism; both are the inverse of one another's path to overcoming existential dread. One through finding a path forward and having hope, and the other through pure discipline and stubbornness.

As this happened, the other Gods came into being faster and faster, and Edelrho soon found the one that would carry on her mission in the mortal plane. A Goddess named...

Paya, The One Who Conquers All Milestones. The Taskmaster. The Goddess of Hunting, Honor, and Loyalty; Exemplar of Dedication; patron of: self-discipline, duty, and determination. She is said to provide all Yautja with their innate foundation and Mortal Dogma— the natural talents and gifts with which an individual forges their way through the world; she is said to be the judge of Honor, and she is said to be the protector of all those undergoing their Chiva. She is the one who judges the performance of the Yautja; she is the one who rewards competence with authority. When Edelrho gave her the instructions that would ensure total victory, at the End Times, (known as The Path) Paya had to choose one of the mortal races to play an integral part in the final battle. She chose the Yautja, as evidenced by their glowing blood— The Glow of Paya's Chosen. At the eve of every Hunt, Chiva, and Trial of any sort: a prayer is uttered in Paya's name, asking for guidance. Paya is generally depicted as a colossal figure upon a throne, giving the viewer a scrutinizing stare through blazing-gold eyes, with a horde of skulls surrounding her and Wrist-Blades on each of her four arms, as well as all the primary tools of the Hunt arrayed at her feet. Her symbol is that of a weighing-scale, and she is recently culturally-associated with Ahgai'Palak Queens.

Paya's brother-deity, who came into existence alongside her, was...

Trumaiak, The One Without Mercy. The Ravager. The God of War and Justice, Exemplar of Ruthlessness, and patron of: martial-arts, battle-tactics, and righteous fury. He is said to wield the very elements, namely lightning, and all the forces of nature as his weapon, he is said to be the bringer of vengeance, and is said to be the shield of all Arbitrators. He is the one who stokes lust for battle; he is the one who fosters self-improvement. All Arbitrators in the Great Wheel pay tribute to him by wearing the Yautja symbol for "lightning" on their armor— for the thundering impact of justice strikes the criminal and reprobate, just as quickly. The etymology of his name, like most Gods, isn't well-understood, but "ai'ak" has come to mean "storm" in most dialects, due to the long-held assumption that the name "Trumaiak" always meant "bringer of [trum] storms [aiak]". Those who follow him are stereotyped, typically, as quick-to-anger and reckless, yet of unshakable conviction. Trumaiak is generally depicted as a warhammer-wielding dynamo— typically running forward with electricity, flame, and steam trailing behind him, wearing armor made of magma and ice. His symbol is that of a lightning-bolt wreathed in flame, and he is recently culturally-associated with Ahgai'Palak Ravagers— which were named after him.

The Siblings of Bone and Blood, Paya and Trumaiak, represent the difference between hunting and fighting— between sport and combat. Both provide avenues for pursuing The Path. Trumaiak, in many of the older myths, is portrayed as Paya's enforcer and the deliverer of her will, but it would be a mistake to think of her, theologically, as his "superior"— in many other stories, the pair are depicted as softly antagonistic and disagreeing with one another, much of the time.

The next pair of Gods to come into being were...

Kagriinaht, The One of Little Restraint. The Explorer. Goddess of Art and Expertise, Exemplar of Freedom, and patron of: creativity, expression, and artistic pursuits. She is said to represent youthful desires, she is said to be the ultimate critic, and she is said to be the eternal patroness of artists, scribes, entertainers, musicians, and auteurs. She is the one who teaches that art gives value to continued existence where no value can be found in its absence; she is the one who encourages good humor in troubled times and appreciation of great talent in times of prosperity. In many artistry-schools, tribute is paid to Kagriinaht with the Yautja symbol for "joy" being artfully carved in stone on some area of the building's entrance, and those who follow her teachings have a stigma for being "odd" and "perplexing", yet uncannily-endearing, all the same. Kagriinaht is generally depicted as a joyful, many-limbed dancer, wearing little-to-nothing and wielding all manner of artistic tools in her hands— brushes, chisels, knives, quills, instruments, etc.; all of which are producing an ethereal shine. Her symbol is that of a hand holding a golden naxa-fruit, and she is recently culturally-associated with the Ahgai'Palak life-cycle, but even more recently with Chestbursters.

Soortzehn, The One Who Provides All Solutions. The Crafter. The God of Commerce and Skill, Exemplar of Traditional Observance, and patron of: industriousness, passion for one's work, and skilled craftsmanship. He is said to have been the progenitor of skinning and gutting techniques, he is said to be the first-designer of all future technology, and he is said to be the instiller of ingenuity in all blacksmiths and engineers. He is the one who gives the Yautja their design-philosophy in all weapons and equipment; he is the one who decides what is practical and what is not, and for which purposes. Many blacksmiths, technicians, and craftspeople of all stripes give him credence by constructing and showcasing some variety of statue depicting the Yautja symbol for "thoroughness" on their homes and property. Those who follow him have a reputation for being strait-laced and uncompromising, yet perceptive and wise. Soortzehn is generally depicted as a helmeted and armored blacksmith, bent over a broiling crucible, ready to strike the alloy with a burnt, bone hammer; he is holding the alloy fast to the flame with a large, metal claw in the place of his left arm. His symbol is that of a hammer atop an anvil, and he is recently culturally-associated with Ahgai'Palak Drones.

The Siblings of Merriment and Mettle, Kagriinaht and Soortzehn, represent the similarities between working for the sake of passion, and working for the passion of working. While they are often seen mocking and castigating one another's work in many story, they are also often depicted reconciling by working together on creating something greater than either could do, alone.

Gizaarte, The One Who Weaves and Prods. The Wraith. The Goddess of Schemes and Lies, Exemplar of Cunning, and patron of: politicking, social maneuvering, and tactical puppet-mastering. She is said to be the progenitress of deception and misdirection, she is said to be the unsung guardian of virtues she can never exemplify, and she is said to be the sole comfort for those who lead their brethren in difficult times, where no solution can please all, and no party can go without hardship. She is the one who teaches that Dishonor of the self is sometimes necessary to preserve the Honor of the many; she is the one who lends credence to unjust actions taken for the greater good. Lies are sometimes necessary, and a feather-touch in the right direction can change everything for the better, even if it must come with a tremendous cost to oneself— as it should, when all is said and done. Those who follow her are typically stereotyped as shamelessly pragmatic and self-assured, their loyalties never clear until the very last moments before disaster, where they prove to have been completely trustworthy, all along. Gizaarte is generally depicted as an enigmatic, coyly-seductive, yet reserved figure wreathed in tattered robes that float around her as though suspended in water; mist flows onto the ground from under the hem of her gown, and her face is hidden under a veil, scars and chains are wrapped torturously around her outstretched arms, even as she smiles, knowingly. Her symbol is that of an open palm halting a closed fist, and she is recently culturally-associated with Ahgai'Palak Ka'Torag-de.

Arkazir, The One Devoid of Ignorance. The Archivist. The God of Knowledge and Science, Exemplar of Wisdom, and patron of: remembrance of the past, learning from mistakes, and humility. He is said to be the recorder of all history, he is said to be the custodian of all wisdom, and he is said to be the guiding hand of all philosophers and scholars. He is the one who predicts all outcomes and knows the value of caution; he is the one who knows that the best course of action is sometimes to do nothing. Those who follow him are somewhat expected to be unsociable, shut-in scholars; simultaneously over-thinking the simplest tasks and willing to go to ridiculous lengths for potentially-useless knowledge. Arkazir is generally depicted as a tall, imperious, winged figure, floating above the ground, long-limbed and wearing a shadowy robe; carrying in one hand a polearm (with an immense magnifying-glass at one end and a spear-like quill at the other), and carrying in the other hand, a large tome. His symbol is that of an all-encompassing eye with a scroll in its pupil, and he is recently culturally-associated with Ahgai'Palak Royal Guards.

The Siblings of Seizure and Seniority, Gizaarte and Arkazir, represent the interplay between lies and truth. The decision to withhold knowledge, or give it freely, can mean all the difference in the world, and sometimes: the only difference between a traitor and a fool is how loose their tongue is, and how genuine their intent. Gizaarte and Arkazir are most often written as acting in solitude, though the occasions where they work in tandem or work against one another are often shown to be disastrous or miraculous for the rest of the Gods.

Thus, they are...

The One Who Knows No Shame, The One Who Knows No Fear, The One Who Knows No Rest, The One Who Conquers All Milestones, The One Without Mercy, The One of Little Restraint, The One Who Provides All Solutions, The One Who Weaves and Prods, and The One Devoid of Ignorance / The Defiler. The Missing One. The Punisher. The Taskmaster. The Ravager. The Explorer. The Crafter. The Wraith. The Archivist. The Nine below the Three. The Three who stand above all. The Three and The Nine.
The Triumvirate are theologically thought of as being "not quite" sapient, thinking entities, and are largely considered forces of nature, rather than manifestations of the aspects of sapience, like The Nine are. The Triumvirate, each on their own, are thought of as more powerful than all of The Nine, put together.

However... that is not all. For religion is not just the purview of scholarly theologians, but also that of the wider culture. And in the wake of one, exceptional individual, a thirteenth God's existence has been alleged, for centuries, by many a prophet and many a politician.

Ibara'na-Len the Great.

A long while after the Great Defeat, the Kiande Admeha were discovered— the Ahgai'Palak. Their existence was met by fascination and admiration from all strata of Yautja society. Ibara'Len, before he was known as "Ibara'na-Len", was a lowly servant who (through events not entirely understood) became stranded on a world infested utterly by Ahgai'Palak hives, and for two, whole decades: he survived and collected the creature's skulls, surviving off of fruits and small animals. When he was finally found, it was by Bad-Bloods looking to find Ahgai'Palak Eggs to smuggle.

He killed them, took their ship, and made his way back to the home-world, taking his skulls and Trophies with him, and became revered by all from his exploits. Over the next four decades, he hunted the Ahgai'Palak wherever they could be found like the creatures were a pest that needed exterminating. To this day, it is said that no other mortal Yautja has ever met his record of Ahgai'Palak slain, by his own hand (conservative estimates of his skull-count would be at around 10,000, and as for the amount of Serpents he slew and collected no Trophy from? Anyone could guess— some say millions). Ibara'na-Len's skill at hunting the creatures made him unbelievably wealthy and respected. Though he was not the first to Hunt the Kiande Admeha, he was the first to perfect the practice, and there are few who can claim to have anywhere near half his level of greatness.
One day, however, Ibara'na-Len mysteriously disappeared off the face of the galaxy under poorly-understood circumstances. Some say his ship's drive-core imploded by accident. Some say he was killed on an Ahgai'Palak Hunt, and those that accompanied him never told of it, in order to preserve his legend. Some still say that Cetanu came down from the higher plane and killed him, itself, enraged that he'd cheated Death so many times.

When he was presumed dead, the entirety of Yautja civilization ground to a halt in mourning, and a holiday was added to the calendar in his name. As the mythos surrounding his life fermented in the zeitgeist, he was said by some to have found the fastest way to follow Edelrho into the immortal afterlife, and he was worshipped in cults as "The Thirteenth God" for centuries, afterward. His followers wear Bio-Masks in the likeness of Ahgai'Palak to pay tribute to him.
He had no name before he made his triumphant arrival on Yautja Prime, and took the name "Ibara'na-Len", which simply means: "wandering man".

As the centuries passed, whether to include him among the other Gods in temples became a political and religious issue. The old-guard of the theological say that there is no precedent for a mortal ascending to godhood, while those who believe in him say that nothing in the ancient texts contradicts the idea and that many prophets have stated it is so. Others still insist that the holiday — "The Day of the Perfect One" — is commemoration enough for such a legendary figure, and that he needs no apotheosis to remain constant in the zeitgeist.

There are, also, very fringe circles of Hish-Qu-Ten who believe that Nightstorm, too, ascended to godhood, after Ibara'na-Len, but little attention is paid to those groups or their teachings.

Naalkagaar is the only God for whom no altars are made and no statues are built, for he is considered beneath contempt. The closest thing to an altar to Naalkagaar in official temples are, in the case of temples in large cities: there will occasionally be a pit outside the temple's main-building, where Bad Bloods are thrown in while they await trial; some go so far as to put a statue depicting an U'darahje at said pit's center, but even that is seen by some as distasteful or as putting too fine a point on it.
Naalkagaar is also the only God explicitly referred to as "evil" in the ancient texts. While Cetanu is rightly feared, and given due respect, it is not condemned as evil, as Naalkagaar is. Cetanu simply fulfills its purpose, equally and dutifully across the scales, while Naalkagaar seeks to corrupt for corruption's own sake.

There are, still, some in the fringiest of the fringe among theological circles whom argue that Naalkagaar is wrongly castigated, and that the path to curbing the emergence of more Bad Bloods and dishonor is to seek to understand The Defiler rather than disregarding him. That all are equally vulnerable to the shameless one's temptations, regardless of personal Honor or accomplishments. Such a position, in many ways, is seen as the most despicable religious belief one can have, and "lynchings" of those who preach that idea are not unheard-of.


Ruuk-Sii ended her lengthy explanation next to the central bonfire, in front of the statue to Arkazir, as she finished explaining how the God of Knowledge wrote all her saw and knew in his tome, "... he is the last of the Gods, so I believe we are finished with the lecture— though Arkazir is certainly not the least of The Nine, despite being the final one... any questions?".

One of the pups, the boy with the white-spotted forehead, raised a hand, and Ruuk-Sii, prompted him, "yes, Tuugo?".

Uncertainly, he asked, "mad'm priestess, why isn't there a statue for Naalkagger?", looking at the floor, scared he may be asking about something bad, or something he should have known, before.

Toh'ruuk-Vahnsii'ah smiled behind her mask and bent down at the waist, to his height, saying, "because, Tuugo, we don't acknowledge Naalkagaar with so much as a pebble, in this building. He doesn't deserve it, and we are better than him. If we even spoke his name outside the need to, it would bring dishonor upon us and all our families". She reached out and patted him on his head in affirmation, causing him to seriously look her in the eye-lenses for the first time since he'd come in. "So, don't waste your thoughts on him. Just be glad that Maaltanurz is keeping him busy", she said.

The boy nodded, quietly, glad to not be chastised for asking something so simple.

She rose back up to her full height, clasped both hands together, and asked, "are there any other questions?".

The woman looked down at her children to see if they had any for a few moments, and seeing them blink and shake their heads, evidently still processing all that they'd learned, she asked, tentatively, "what is your temple's position on the apotheosis of The Thirteenth?", sounding somewhat nervous.

Ruuk-Sii simply canted her head side-to-side, "personally, I am ambivalent. The temple, itself, has never taken a particular position on Ibara'na-Len The Great, but we may have to at some point in the future. I shall see what the head-priestess thinks of it".
The woman nodded, mandibles flexing in uncertainty. Whether she believed in him, or not, wasn't Ruuk-Sii's concern. There were other temples in the Dark Blade Clan that acknowledge "The Perfect One" as a god, in any case, and it wasn't her job to convert any wayward visitor to the temple's specific conception of what The Path is. That was for those who wished to learn it.

A short, awkward silence held the air hostage, before the woman smiled down at her pups and then at her, saying, "well, I believe we've gotten what we came for. A thousand thanks for your time, Ruuk-Sii". She bowed her head, and her children parroted her, which Ruuk-Sii couldn't help but find inwardly endearing. She waved a hand, genuinely pleased to have been of help, "it is no grievance, Kwei'dra-Ch'hkt-a" (5). She began walking off to the right, her guests following along with her toward the entrance-hall, "if you ever wish to return, we would be glad to receive you. Do you live in the nearby area?".

"Yes, actually", Dra-Hkt said, "this was the closest temple I could find to our address. The dwelling we purchased is rather secluded, evidently".

"How did your cousins fair in their trials to become Elite?".

"Oh, fairly well— most of them without too many wounds".

"Ah, but the wounds are the fun part— that's what they get to show off in the bedding-chamber!", she jested, teasingly.

Dra-Hkt laughed a bit too loudly, subtly shaking her head at her son when he looked up at her as though to ask what that joke meant, and replied, "well, as long as they have enough Trophies to get anyone in the chamber, to begin with, yes?".

"Of course, of course", Ruuk-Sii nodded, sagely, as though acknowledging age-old wisdom, "advertise your offering before you showcase it— I always forget. It's just so tempting to skip straight to the main-course, eh?".

"Assuming it's a good meal, at least", she shot back.

"Indeed".

As the three visitors walked out of the door of the temple's entrance, Kwei'dra-Ch'hkt-a turned about to bow, once more, and thanked Ruuk-Sii again for taking the time to humor them. Ruuk-Sii only nodded, and said, "may your road always face the suns", in goodbye. The mother smiled, turned, and walked away, calling her progeny to join her. The pups both saluted to Ruuk-Sii, smilingly smacking their tiny fists to their chests, before running after their mother, and she watched the trio as they slowly exited the courtyard's entrance, the children both shrieking about something or other.

The sound of footsteps brought her out of her thoughts, as she turned and found Vituu'Saar standing behind her, watching the three go.

Ruuk-Sii was about to drop to a knee, in respectful greeting, before the head-priestess clasped the sleeve of her upper-arm and smiled at her. "You did well, granddaughter. It always gives me joy to see how well you know the sagas, by heart".

Ruuk-Sii had never quite known how to react to her grandmother when she disregarded honorable etiquette, this way— all of the priestesses at the temple she'd studied the texts in took pains to keep to a strict protocol. She settled for simply smiling awkwardly, and mumbling a "thank you", before the head-priestess jovially tugged on one of her tresses— to admonish her for "being such an awkward so-and-so", she knew.

Toh'ruuk-Vahnsii'ah stepped away from the door and walked past her elder, back toward the antechamber, smiling despite herself. She heard her grandmother walk up behind her and catch her shoulder, speaking in an abruptly concerned tone, "are you okay, granddaughter?".

Ruuk-Sii balked at this, and shook her head in surprise, "what? Yes— of course I am, mistress!".

Vituu'Saar's eyes seemed to pierce through her Bio-Mask and study her, and so Ruuk-Sii took off her Bio-Mask as though the preempt the discomfort of being scrutinized and looked the woman in the eye. "I am fine, grandmother".

"You were quiet, this morning. And Vii-Tan told me you've been getting more morose and less talkative, this last week", the elder said, quickly, expression held stoic.
Ruuk-Sii's eyes unfocused and glazed over, as her expression darkened, and she realized there was no use in avoiding the subject. She looked down at the floor, reaching up and pulling off her hood as she held her mask in one hand. Vituu'Saar patiently waited, stepping back a bit and putting her hands on her hips, expectantly. The younger priest was silent for a long time, eventually shaking her head at the floor and sighing, admitting, "I do not even know, myself, what vexes me...".

She looked back up to her elder, and amended, "it is as though... I have the sensation of something being missing from me. But it is something I evidently have no knowledge of, given that I cannot name it...".

Another long moment passed, before Vituu'Saar chuckled to herself, causing Ruuk-Sii's eyes to snap upward, as her mandibles clenched together in a frown. The elder then said, nonchalantly, "I told you you were too young to become a priest ten years ago, and you didn't listen".

"What?".

Vituu'Saar grasped Ruuk'Sii's shoulder, explaining, "it simply isn't in the nature of the young to be content with life in a temple— especially not before they've even experienced a tenth of what life has to offer. I told you that, ten years ago, when you asked me to recommend you to a theology-school".

"Of course, you said that you knew that you wanted this, and that you `most assuredly` would not regret it", she said, shaking her head at the ceiling, "I said that you'd eventually get sick of priesthood, or at least, restless enough to finally leave and live an actual life, first, before joining the clergy".

Ruuk-Sii simply stared in shocked silence, surprised at how easily her grandmother could diagnose her problem... and how much her words resonated with her. She slowly lowered her gaze to the floor, as a feeling of sorrow stabbed at her gut, realizing Vituu'Saar was right. Becoming a priestess was supposed to be a lifelong commitment, and Ruuk-Sii couldn't help but feel defeated at having apparently failed to properly embrace the life she'd chosen.

She looked at her grandmother, feeling vaguely betrayed for reasons she couldn't comprehend, and asked, "what do I do, then, grandmother? Being a priestess is supposed to be a permanent decision— if I leave, now, I can never return to it!".

Vituunko'dra-Saartor'ven only smiled and shook her head, "it doesn't need to be official, and no one aside from us need know about it. I am still the head of this temple, at least, and as long as I am here: you will always be able to return".

"But... if I leave for even as long as a century... you might—", she started to protest.

"`Die`? Ruuk-Sii, if I were anywhere close to the end of the time allotted to me by Lyzatsad, I would have retired from this temple a long time, ago", she assured, before pulling her granddaughter in for an embrace, "I promise you, you could be gone for three-hundred years and I will still be here...".

Ruuk-Sii's mandibles gnashed in paroxysm, as a storm of hidden anxieties and angst erupted from her subconscious— previously unknown to her, previously concealed beneath a veneer of denial... and she hugged back, fiercely, as a small whine squeezed out of her throat.
They held one another for a long moment, before the elder of the two pulled away, and said, "you need time away from the temple— time to live a life of some consequence, away from this... stationary existence. Go to your mother in Darkmount, and ask her for training to get you back into fighting-shape. Maybe go to the academy, again, hm?".

Ruuk-Sii seemed to search for reasons this suggestion was wrong but, finding none, she sighed and agreed, "yes, grandmother".

Vituu'Saar nodded, happily, and began walking toward the antechamber, saying over her shoulder, "you can begin to pack your belongings in the morning, and say your goodbyes to Vii-Tan after you've rested. I'll send a message to your mother that you're coming, and I'll tell Zin-Ja and Gua'mek that you're on a spiritual pilgrimage, when they return".

Ruuk-Sii quietly frowned to herself, as she contemplated the displeasure of having to leave Vii-Tan behind— not being able to say goodbye to the other two members of the temple. Having to leave her grandmother behind. Having to leave the temple, behind. All of a sudden, she felt the need to look around and drink in every detail of the place while she still could. She snorted to herself, ruefully, and wondered how it was that she felt only malaise for the entire morning about the temple, yet now that she had to leave it: it suddenly all felt like home, to her. Precious, even. She believed there was a stanza in one of Kagriinaht's epics that said: "true deepness of appreciation is found in the deepest of separation".
She turned around, closed the temple door shut, and retreated to her dormitory. She didn't come to dinner, didn't engage in the evening-prayer for the first time in a decade, and simply went to sleep...


When morning came, she greeted Vii-Tan at her door with an embrace which, other than making him very confused, allowed her to explain that she was leaving without having to look him in the face. She expected him to protest, but as she explained that she needed to find her own way, he simply hugged her back and said, "I understand".

She stayed long enough for breakfast, and was far more talkative, if only because she felt the need to hear their voices as much as possible before going. When the time came for her to go, Vituu'Saar simply gave her another hug, promised to reserve a place for her until she returned, and went back into the temple.

As she was about to cross the threshold of the temple's courtyard-entrance, a shout caught her ear, as Vii-Tan came running out. He presented to her a necklace, made of metallic filament and decorated with small, silvery tablets— each inscribed with the symbols of the Gods. She accepted the gift from him with mild shock, as he explained how he rushed to make it in the two short cycles between her telling him she was leaving, and now. She admonished herself for being surprised at the fineness of the craftsmanship, as followers of Soortzehn had a knack for doing good work on short notice. The warmth of the still-cooling metal in her hand, and the way its surface shined brightly in the dawn sun, sparked another warmth in her chest and gut— emotions welling up in her, without warning. As well as a quickening of resolve.

She thanked him by abruptly leaning down, grasping his shoulders, pressing her forehead to his, and curling her mandibles around his own. Needless to say, his lengthy tirade about the process of hammering the platinum into shape without having the time to heat it up to the optimal temperature, first, was cut short. She whispered that she would miss him, smiling sadly, before pulling away and beginning to walk down the path, canvas rucksack slung over one shoulder.

He stood at the courtyard's entrance for a long while after she disappeared around a corner in the forest-path... before slowly returning to the temple.


(1) "Toh'ruuk" & "Vahnsii'ah" = "rational" & "seer".

(2) "K'hekvii'a" & "Tans'ur" = "spirited" & "stumble".

(3) "Vituunko'dra" & "Saartor'ven" = "eternally" & "mindful".

(4) "Hunter of Death"— a name for the rank that I believe is held by all of those wearing Bio-Masks like "Wolf's" from Requiem and Aliens vs Predator (2010). I speculate that those who wear the "Wolf" Mask occupy a place in society not-unlike that of "The Arbiter" from Halo's Covenant— when someone of immensely high-standing fails or besmirches their or their Clan's Honor in a particularly embarrassing way, without having the integrity to take their own life: they are stripped of their identity, and their prior name and deeds are stricken from the archives, recorded only in abstract; the only way they can regain their Honor is by dying in-service to the Clan— either, in war, or on-assignment to deal with particularly extreme and volatile problems.
Dead men, walking, if you will. Because if someone of such high skill has shamed your Clan in so massive a way: you'll want to get use out of them, and with their livelihood taken from them and their only recourse being death, they'll gladly do so.

(5) "Kwei'dra" & "Ch'hkt-a" = "slyly" & "excited"

The only four of these deities that are "canon" are Cetanu, Paya, Ibara'na-Len, and Trumaiak, by the way. "Trumaiak" is a name I made up, but there is definitely a Yautja god who "wields lightning" and is described as an "alien Thor". The rest are my own invention, which I'm fine with, given that there only being three to work with, in canon, would be boring.

Ibara'na-Len, though his name and story were made up by me, aren't entirely without precedent, as in the Aliens vs Predator (2010) videogame, there is a cosmetic option for those playing as a Predator to don a mask in the shape of a Xenomorph's face. A Yautja wearing that Bio-Mask appears at the end of the Predator story mode, too. Supposedly, that guy was "the most successful Xenomorph Hunter of all time".
... and he was just...
there? Sitting on a random ship, on a random Hunt, waiting around for the player-character to finish killing the PredAlien? Really?

Needless to say, I find that kind of dumb, so I went ahead and head-canon'd that the greatest Serpent Hunter of all time actually died very, very long ago, and that the people who wear a mask in his likeness in the modern day are actually cultists who believe that he ascended to Godhood, and wish to follow in his footsteps.