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LONG AGO
PAST OF PAVARARLOIN
there was once a time when the archipelago of Pavararloin wasn't so sacred and divine. Darkness bewitched the kingdom, sweeping it's heavy fogs for miles, the harvests died, plaguing and plunging the civilians into a miserable depression. For decades. It was as if the sun had been snatched away from the heavens, never to be heard of again. The Pavararen mourned for what they lost to the merciless night, their world dipped into what felt like forever twilight, draped upon their mountains, shadows gnawing away and looming amongst each corner- a single wrong turn and you'd be sent adrift to the black glooms, for all eternity. Sheer immensity of the brewing storm, and cackling, crackling lightning, set off the ocean's hysterical rage. Ravening, biting waves thundered across those succumbing coastlines, homes, chapels, all taken away and held prisoner by the tide. It was truly a tragedy that left
it's stains upon the shattered community, and the history of Pavararloin. To this very day, the catastrophe grips Kalon-kind, and is a reminder of
the danger the World can bring. After these times of fright and terror, three of the four deities: Sky, Sea and Earth, hand in hand decided to bring a end to this period of unrest, put their troubles and differences aside and vow to make Pavavarloin a better, kinder, and gentler place for the people.
Accordingly, the phenomenon was called The Pitch Age.
1000 YEARS LATER
PRESENT OF PAVARARLOIN
Pavararloin ( Demonym: Pavararen ) is a ancient kingdom located in the very Northern region of the Arctic circle a collection of islands. Climate change and the eventual warming of the world meant the melted ice caps painted a brilliant network of rivers, shores and lakes upon the land, a little haven encased within mighty mountains, that allowed no one to enter, or no one to leave- Earth intended this to keep Darkness from reaching inside- instead, it would first have to try and scale the icy barriers and stony slopes, if it wasn't dragged away by the tide already. Exactly one-thousand years since the first day of darkness, light was restored to the kingdom, and the sun shone by the Sky's side, where it had always belonged, and rightfully shone so. The Pavararen Kalons take great pride in the deities they believe in, dedicating statues, monuments, even their whole lives to them to simply honour them-- that is, apart from the infamous deity they had named Darkness, a cunning force that pours night-time into the world above, and hangs it's ghost of a moon within the clouds.
Life for those who live here is pleasant- the sun is always shining on a regular basis, apart from the few hours of dusk and dawn, where it takes a short rest- there is simply no night.
Upon the first day light returned, food became plentiful... The hardships of starvation and hunting other animals out of desperation was abolished from the law, and finally no guilt was felt for surviving. Seeds could finally be sown again, and saplings found the energy to become uplifted, to turn into plants... It was the first sign of a long line of successful harvests. Life was good once again, and happiness began to spring up on faces. Birth rates rose and there is now a sense of security.
Housing is situated by the river banks- the people have great trust in the deities, so they know they wouldn't flood their homes, even on accident. Just about everybody has their own personal, little boat, docked up snugly next to each-other, used for easy transport and carrying cargo from the bigger islands, to the smaller ones. The isolation of Pavararloin allowed a secret little society to be built up; with guilds, markets, halls and temples, made to pay respect to the one who had graced them with all of this.
This was all credit to the arrival of one very, very special Kalon indeed..
Legend has it a winged ruler
Will come forth
And bless the land, smite
darkness and send it afar
from his lonesome hand
Pavararen testimonial
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THE CORONATION OF HAVARDR
On the very dawn of the very first sunrise, after exactly one-thousand years after the very last sunset, a child's birth landed on this fateful day: a chance truly one in a million. The survival of the child went against all odds- many pregnancies during the Pitch Age did not last, as the mothers would grow tired with the shortage of food and clean water, and sickness carried a fatal threat for both mother and her baby. Advancement in medicine was slow, and no progress was being made... Knowledge and cures were scarce, even simple flus and colds would become dangerous if went untreated. Death from illness that could have been cured didn't go unheard of, and diagnosis was always a difficulty. Health was a matter that couldn't be pleased easily. Havatdr's parents, however, were absolutely fixated on the hope the child would make it to it's first birthday. The two of them would not back down and were determined to do the best they could, for the awaiting addition to the family. And oh how it paid off ! The passion for the life of the child warmed the deities, so to Havadr, they granted three blessings.
The Earth presented itself first. "Young Havardr !" The grass and trees bowed before the kit, "The dedication and love of your mother and father impressed me so... It is clear to me now that they care for you. Their adoration knows no bounds. So to you, I grant the knowledge and gift of healing. You shall grow to relieve and
ease the pain and hurting of those who aren't as fortunate as you... You will make your parents proud I'm certain. However, your remedies do come with a price. I'm afraid the healing properties I grant to you aren't potent enough to revive the deceased, or healing anyone near death is a huge risk to your own life... any injuries healed by this power will cut your life-span by weeks, or even years depending on the severity... Because of this, you cannot heal your own body. Use it wisely." The leaves amongst Havardr waved their farewells.
With a soft coo, in a hushed voice like dripping water, the Sea spoke. "Do not fret- to counter the negatives of the healing power bestowed upon you by Earth, I shall grant you a grand longevity.... You will expect to live a much more longer life span than your peers, perhaps many centuries if you take care, with all of the graces of youth. It's not in my ability to give you immortality however- under some circumstance, you can perish. You'll need to be careful and use your wits. A longer life span will slow the drainage of healing, but will not eradicate it."
And finally, Havardr was met with the last of the three deities, and the very one with the very most authority- enough to be considered holy. The clouds twisted around to meet the youngster, quiet and soft enough not to disturb the boy, with the white eyelashes that stirred occasionally, his slumber deep and comfy, without care, without worry.
"Ahh... you must be the one they are all talking about- I understand, yes. We didn't think you'd make it this far. It's a wonderful little surprise. I am Sky... Myself, I believe it was your birth that had slain darkness and had rid us of that terrible time. So to you, I give my absolute gratitude. I have crafted you a tail of mist, a pelt of shiny copper, and the gift of flight: wings for you, crafted in my image. It is my greatest honour to give these to you. Even at your young age Havardr, you have all of the qualities to help your peers living here- your fellow Kalons. While you may not be a king or a god, I give to you a much greater duty: to lead your people, and devote yourself to them."
"Your birth was no coincidence or mistake. You are the one they speak of in the Legend. Fulfil your path ! You are the bearer of The Golden Age !"
Earth
Grants Havardr healing properties at the cost of his days being shortened; cuts his life span, by weeks or even years depending on the severity of a injury. In exchange for this sacrifice, Earth provides food and clean air for Havardr's people. Earth asks for the bodies of the deceased to be returned to the soil, to pass on their life to serve as nature- trees, plants, fruit and food for the harvest. Beholder of the mountains.
SEA
Grants Havardr a great longevity (longer life span) to counter the cost of drainage from healing.
However, this can subject him to a long life of pain. In exchange for this sacrifice, Sea brings rivers and lakes, for a water source, and plentiful fish to admire and catch. Can rage when angered, creating storms and hurricanes. Beholder of rain.
SKY
Beholder of the sun. Grand holy spirit. Grants Havardr wings once born, as his birth has 'slain' Darkness. Havardr's appearance was 'created in Sky's image'.
DARKNESS
Night-time. Bad deity and spirit. Feared by all. It's common for Kalons to still fear the 'old wives'tale', a belief that if a Kalon does not make it home by the last of sunset, or if moonlight touches them, they will forever have bad fortune, or even grow gravely sick. It is believed that the stars are scars in the darkness, and thus are celebrated. Beholder of the moon. Metaphor for death. Any Kalon caught or born wearing the markings and colours of night-time are punished and disposed of under the law, as the people feel it is disrespectful to the Sky, and a threat.
THE CURSE OF A GIFT
Whilst being a leader had it's qualities and upsides, like being treated with the most utmost respect, fine clothing and being served food by your subjects just by a ring of a bell, of course it was tiresome. To Havardr in particular. There were oh so many, much too many, times when the weight of the entire fate and health of Pavararloin pooled upon his wings, they would slowly begin to droop and lifting them became a painful chore. It felt as if rocks were being stacked on his shoulders, by his own people, to test and see how much he could take before faltering. After all, who was there to take care of him when he was unwell ? Just the exhaustiveness and fatigue of spending his powers- even just to heal mere cuts and bruises of a complaining villager- felt like trading a scratch for a sucker punch. Havardr felt perhaps, if he could see the people he attends and aids to with his own eyes, he would feel appreciated and note-worthy, rather then a coin-slot-machine which only made his patience and good temper wear thinner. From his early life he didn't get to see his parents very much, due to his potential with his powers and new status. For quite a while now, he wondered if even his grandmother would outlive him. Every inch and corner of his being ached, but he couldn't let them down, especially under the Sky's watchful gaze. Parts of him knew the deity would be out to get him for his inability to work- but only time could tell.
Even with his supposed longer life span, the sand-glass was turning... He could feel it in his bones, and his frail legs, even at the young age of twenty. That feeling of uncertainty and naivety as a child was still, to this day, clinging to his frame. Deities - he pondered if he could still trust them: Havardr had no say or opportunity for objection, as he was a kit, in the abilities he was suddenly given, by those who he should respect. Maybe they were curses, passed off to him as cheap blessings.
- - - - { Art by Littlelies } - - - -
It was no lie that Havardr was afraid of his fate. Might he pass away tomorrow ? What will happen to his subjects then ? Will his parents notice his absence, would they care...? This was no longer a duty he took great pride in, gracing his people and being the ideal 'saviour' to them all, but rather now a burden he would have to take on for the rest of his being-- and even he wasn't too sure how long he would last on the world's cruel clockwork, time always ticking away, each second he tried to savour for himself. The freight that tugged on his soul and essence was oh too much to bare any longer., this body of his, despite a young mind, face and spirit, was too many eons beyond Havardr. He finally decided enough was now enough.
Time to himself was rare, once in a blue 'moon', even, despite the luxuries of service he had, which the people envied indeed. Standing for the first time that felt like weeks, he clambered into his favourite and most dearest shrine- a sacred temple with what could be described as... a magical touch to it. Vines of ivy and little walls of fern etched and plaited the walls of stone, climbing mighty heights freely, and tracing intricate details in it's surface of cool marble, marks preserved for all eternity, even if plants were considered of insignificance and a existence too small and simple to respect. This he cherished. To him, he felt this foliage was perhaps the only thing in this odd world that would understand and relate to the pain he now felt, a tool to be disposed of at pick and choosing. At the structure, there stood four columns; two at the back, and two proudly at the entrance. Pillars that gazed over, with faces carved from the rock- stone cold and dormant, eyes closed, and wings stretched. It had come to a agreement- whilst nobody knew how long these had stood there, they did for a long time certainly. Worn down by age and the passing river of years, there were small chips in the detail... But one in particular was in a awful state. One of the wings was snapped clean off- the way it was cut, it had to be deliberate and with force. The face was raked of any expression, the ears notched, and the pillar was absolutely littered with deep gashes and scratches, each one marked through the length of claws. It was discoloured, several shades darker to the other three, and expressed different symbols: a crescent moon engraved at the top, and phases of the moon at the very center, in the pillar's "chest".
It was understood that this one represented the deity no one dare talk of, the unspeakable and terrible Darkness. It was clear that the others must certainly be Earth, Sea, and Sky. These monuments felt almost like the deities in time, frozen. However... in each one, Havardr could see himself, his features, and his eternal struggle- to pick between who to serve under, and what decisions he shall now make as a Kalon with these powers.
Why the pillar standing for darkness was deteriorating before him, he knew exactly why.
Any expression of the cursed night-time, any darkness, even the colour of deep blues and blacks... It was simply forbidden. Even through art-- this included any depiction of the moon- would be monitored and censored accordingly. Even the kingdom's people. Those caught displaying the colours of Darkness within their fur would be terminated and rid of immediately, even children.. There was simply no mercy- it was seen as cursed, disgusting, unjust. Any text on the Darkness and the cycle of night was made illegal, and too far and few between, so the Pavavaren population had little to no education in the matter, and only followed the teaching of their ancestors- that light was good, pure, heavenly, and dark was a absolute disgrace, a mockery, and prohibited at even the mention of it.
How could Havardr only see the wrongs of this now... it truly shocked him too.
He had studied long and hard in the time he was cooped up alone, he would never pass up the opportunity. The materials he could uncover and find about Darkness and death was certainly risky business: at times, it was almost as if he could feel Sky's disapproval on his back. It was quite the taboo. Any questions he would enquire about it as a kit, just in curiosity, he would swiftly be dismissed. Yet on one drizzly day, when the Sea graced it's waters to the land and crops as it so often did, he finally reached a hypothesis, and his research truly enlightened his understanding on Pavaraloin and it's future. Havardr just hoped his fellow Kalons would cooperate and appreciate his efforts.
Havardr's hypothesis - - - Day fifty-seven
I believe I have finally reached a conclusion with the work and research I have conducted over the past few months. Myself ? It is crystal-clear now. Nature must take it's course, and death needs to take place. We have experienced a gigantic surge in our population numbers- simply speaking, I worry for the number of children being born and Pavaraloin's capacity for serving these high numbers. It is written all in these books. It will not be possible. Our population was small before, and it had been that way during the Pitch Age. This sudden rise as we approach further into this Golden Age will exhaust Pavaraloin of it's resources.I fear for the reliability of our crops, and the new accommodations being built-- we are running out of space across our river banks to plot new shelters. Our land is much to small to hold us now, and our soil is beginning to run dry. In fact, I propose the idea that we should adventure out of Pavaraloin and beyond the mountains- we are just letting it hold us back out of fear. Do you not want the best for your kits ? Out there, we may finally be able to progress, and find new remedies and cures , so we wont need to rely on the healing abilities I possess. I will formally be retiring from my duties as a healer, out of my own health concerns. We need to be sustainable to ensure a bright future, and stop focusing on the present.
Havardr's words were not received so well by the citizens. They felt angered, and betrayed, by Havardr's sudden retirement and abrupt quit of his ultimate purpose- to help those in need. They watched from afar as he shut himself away, and cut ties, turning his back on the people who needed him the most. He just couldn't see through to them, they were much too attached to Pavaraloin: after all, no one had ventured to or from the mountains, this place was the only thing they ever knew of- and felt this was in fact the only 'world' there ever was.
The ocean just wouldn't stretch on endlessly forever, Havardr felt. It had to hit or lead to at least something. Why would we be the only ones ? He remembered what the Earth had told him- if no bodies were being returned to the soil, no new crops will be provided in exchange. It was a fair agreement that was breaking due to the low death rate- in his lifetime, no one had passed away. He was always there to heal anything before it worsened and turned fatal. Maybe, he'll be the first to go.
But if he passes away, what will happen to the people ?
The concept to allow death to take it's course shakes Revali, Havardr's regent and best friend, to the core. As a ex-hunter who greatly regrets taking the lives he did just to survive and eat. "I have done some unspeakable things to the creatures Earth so kindly gave us. Everyone deserves a chance to live. Never, will I forget releasing my bow to watch a doe stare at me in the eyes, a arrow so horribly hanging from her chest, with a presence of gentleness, sincerity and innocence that oh so evoked memories of my dear Wife. It haunts me still. I'd hate to loose Chamomile, Havardr. She's my flower, and I will not let her wilt. I can't stand by your delusional beliefs any longer." Havardr remembers vividly the hurt Revali had expressed, his old friend in which Havardr refused to give the treatment to the one Revali loved most.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Head between his paws, and eyes cast to the yellow of the grass he loved most, a wistful, lonely sigh escaped Havardr. Alone once again, he awaited his punishment. There was a boom off to the distance, and the clouds twisted and turned viciously in it's familiar formation. "Young Havardr. You have dissapointed me so. And of the blessings we granted you, we are repaid with your betrayal, and callousness and disregard for the people you were chosen to serve. To see you take this honour and scrap it... it is unprecedented." The wind hissed to Havardr, and Sky stopped to pause. "We simply cannot trust you again. Alike to the abilities I granted to you oh so many suns ago, a gift cannot be taken back.....but. To you, Havardr, I grant to you something more than you bargained for."
And it happened. Oh, his once so beautiful pelt, his pride and glory, that once ran a rich gold... was now reduced to the darkest of pitch, in a flash. Havardr was absolutely horrified; his hair was pulled out of it's bun and ran wild, his shine uncovered a moon, and his coat turned the deepest shade of blue he had ever seen... Moon markings adorned his shoulders now, each and every phase right there, with stars scattered across his back. It was a new, frightening sort of beautiful. This was a curse.
"I do hope you like your new fur. I highly doubt your people will, though. I can't say they will be impressed, hm? You'll be stuck like this for a while, I assure you. Perhaps it will encourage you not to be so selfish and you'll learn your lesson. Be gone. "
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Run. It felt as though his heart was pounding in his head, relentlessly and constant. With a quiver and shake, he disregarded his current pain, his aching legs, his sore paw pads. Run, run, run and keeping going. Havardr threw his head back, with all his might he ran against the wind that opposed him so- the pitchforks and fires were growing nearer. They had seen him in seconds, everyone did-- at first, they were taken aback.
They had threats- to tear his wings out from where they sprouted, to rip his hair away, to seize his horn. Kalons that he once knew as his own people became a pack of hungry, un-chained hunting hounds in just a matter of seconds, upon seeing his black fur. All of them, even his parents, turning, snarling in protest like a bull spotting the colour red.
The lot of them were approaching the circle of tall mountains, the frontier, the barrier, to put Havardr at his ultimate test. With a heave, a push, he spread his wings that were once folded by his backside for all of eternity- like a cape of twilight, a black swan, he gave his wings a couple of beats, before leaping, soaring, taking to the air-- his instincts kicked in, and for the very first time in forever.... he was in flight. He gasped, quaking as his feet lifted from the ground, adrenaline mixing with relief, to create the most wonderful feeling-- Havardr was quite literally running upon clouds. Head-first, he dived into the mist in desperation to escape, before heading up, up, up, and beyond the mountains, and to there... he was right all along. His eyes met with the outland, the outside world- he had done what they never could. In his chest, Havardr felt a overwhelming sense of belonging out here, already. He knew that this truly, was his real home. His wings- he was fashioned for flight, to lift himself beyond the troubles of others, beyond their prejudice, beyond the concerns compared to those tied to the grounds. At last, he was felt free.
His travels bought him South, down to the deeper regions of the world's axis. From his studies, a certain place had captured his interest... a strange land, where the cycle of day-light and night-time were shared, and happily reigned at each-others sides, with no squabbling, and they could both breathe. So that's what he did- he raced the Sun down the Arctic Ocean, watched it sink before him, and the summit of Pavararloin, small now, so far away, fade back into the distance behind him. He flew, and kept flying, until he met a land that went by the name "France". For now, he decided to settle here....
....The world above was ever so blue now, a deep deep shade, like the Sea he once knew. He finally got to see the stars he was so enchanted with, glistening little pieces of jewels, so high up... and the magnificence then happened.
Soft, soft, hazy moonlight poured and dripped on down his shoulders, it's silvers kissing his dark fur, embracing his tired and weary soul. And that was when....the gold and colour returned to him, he was replenished, very orange, and very happy-- even if he stood out like a sore thumb in both day in night, his forms a little mixed up- he was content.
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