A Q'hala's First Year (essay)

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This is a creative work set in the world of Elanthia, attributed to its original author(s). It does not necessarily represent the official lore of GemStone IV.

Title: A Q'hala's First Year

Author: Tabubu (prime)

Tabubu, the q'hala - as rendered by Elena Nedeleva
Tabubu qhala.jpg

Journal of Tabubu, The start of her path and q'halae training

I can still hear her whisper upon my ear as we crouched down behind the dense foliage watching the newly raised warrior caste. Her tone hushed and demanding, "My girl...my girl...don’t lie to me. Tell me where did you sleep last night?" I did not bother to turn my head to face her. She knew, and the words really were not needed because she went on without pause. “What will you do when they discover what you have done? Where will you go!?" All I know is - I can’t go back. The very thought caused me to shiver through and through.

First Month of the Year 5120:

Arrived in a place known as Ta'Vaalor today. A good place to start, or so it is said by all the Warriors. The guards stopped me at the gate demanding I get papers if I planned on spending any length of time in the city. I can get them at the Town Hall. Since I was a new face, they will give me a little time to acquire such papers. Their eyes upon me spoke volumes despite the civil tongues they presented. What am I thinking? Why am I doing this and not facing the fate handed to me?

I have been searching for a slave since I got here with no avail. I see they are not surprised by my appearance and have witnessed a few First Born among the crowds.

I have settled in a bit and now seek the path of the Way. . . I keep my studies up, and focus my center core culling the nasties surrounding the area. Each day strengthens me and I can feel my self-Power growing. I am beginning to know who I am. If I could only find one damn decent slave to skin for me.

I have drawn the attention of another First Born at last. Our eyes met and he is silent. He seems to know so much yet wants nothing to do with anyone else unless he truly must. I cannot make my eyes meet his again. Not yet, I need to become stronger. More Powerful. I will know when it is time. His name is Telare.

Word has finally reached the right ears, finally. I have started to believe that this was going to be my forever punishment for leaving the comforts of Eh'lah. Just mentioning that I was seeking a slave has put more than one resident of Ta’Vaalor up in arms. They are horrified by this idea. But no matter, luck has blessed my Way this day. I am purchasing an Iyo from the jungles of Mist Harbor. The shaman I am purchasing him from swears that he can skin, just doesn’t build well and has become to lazy for the hard work they require of their own. I will beat it out of him, this Iyo will be serving tea and skinning with great honor by the time I have finished with him.

Time passes. Day comes, blood flows and the sound of the world echoes upon the winds of time and we move on. Come for spells, play a few games of minis and mock the pakras in good humor. Well humor for me at least. Time passes well and my knowledge and strength grow.

The Iyo slave has proven difficult but as the time draws near he will have to do. Did I mention that I applied for the Library position on the Isle of the Four Winds? Knowledge is Power, a place of knowledge. This must be what my path is meant to take; THE WAY, it must be meant to be this. The interview is in a few days, I will have to work diligently upon the back of that lazy Iyo. He often escapes but is never hard to find when it comes to meal time. Thumping him only echoes a hollow sound from within that thick skull of his. But all will be forgiven if he can complete this one time successfully. I wonder if it is possible to return the Iyo for a different one.

Today was the interview. The Iyo served the tea, barely. The questions asked were dull. This might not be the way for me after all. I did not feel satisfaction at the end of any of it. Just empty and wanting for more. I failed myself. This was a setback; not even the proper teaching to the Iyo would bring me pleasure. I will find solace in the arms of battle. Up close and personal so I can break everything and anything I touch

Time passes. Day comes, blood flows, and the sound of the world echo’s upon the winds of time and we move on. Come for spells, watch the Legionaries strut around and I continue to mock the pakras in good humor. Well humor for me at least. Time passes well and my knowledge and strength grow.

Fifth month of the year 5120:

The entry into the book this time is written with a hard pressed quill tip, the words seem to mark the paper with pressure and scratched in words more than ink.

The Iyo ran away, I do not even care. Good riddance. I could not afford to feed the little bugger anymore. He just ate and ate and grew rounder and rounder. It took a stick to make him realize his free meals where done with, I should of just fed him to Qitha. (Qitha being Tolbort's cat.) I admit it, My temper has been foul even compared to wild Krolvins.

But To add fuel to today’s flames, an elf dragged one of the First Born from Ta'Illistim to "fetch" me. To. . . TO FETCH ME? I lost control and snapped at her for such traitorous notions. Who was she to send someone to fetch for me, and then when the others I sit with in the Courts of Vaalor saw who she brought; a roar raged in my ears. Talinvor. If it had not been the situation as such, I might of paid more attention to the Dhe’nar before me. How dare they speak so of one of the First Born. What did these pakras understand of our culture? Even worse who was this elf to do this. I will rip off her head and spit down her neck the first chance I get.

Sixth month of the year 5120:

Fun and games in the Courtyard in Vaalor has changed. It is becoming more and more apparent now that my being of the Pure Blood and my beliefs are not exactly tolerated. As my strength grows and they bear witness to my growing in strength and Power, I believe they start to fear me. You can see it in how they act towards me, the glances from the corner of their eyes. The hushed murmurs and ignoring of my words when spoken out. It is becoming clearer and clearer it is time for me to move on. Time to see if there are other Dhe'nar about I can attempt to make bonds with.

A festival came through. Lo and behold, I now have a better means of travel. I purchased a tortoise. He is beautiful to behold, the greenest of shells to make the jungles of Eh'lah envious. The delicate bells I put upon his harness tinkle so lightly they make a soft music. I have never been good at naming my pets. Slaves have always gotten to keep their names due to my lack of desire to do such. To make a long story short, I let the old human, Torbot name him. Soup. It amused me and seems fitting. That shell would make the most excellent cook pot if worse ever comes to worse. Not that it would. I already have grown attached to the large beast.

Seventh month of the year 5120:

I have managed to cross paths with the Dhe’nar, Talinvor once more. This time I paid attention. He is a bard and of the Obsidian Tower, a place where other First Born and the Khanshael are family. A place of unity. I move forward on my path a few steps again it seems. The urgency of finding MY Way starts to itch my soul once more. I will join them for a hunt, it has all been arranged.

Hunts have gone extremely well. I fight among those much more powerful then I. Including the Ta'la'hai Avaia. They let me learn and fight with them without letting me die and without coddling. I have killed a beast 70 times more skilled then I this day! I have found the rush of life thrumming through my veins once more. I want to become part of the Tower. Just when I have thought my way was to be lost, it seems to have given me a direction to go once more.

Eighth month of the year 5120:

  • I come to the Tower this evening to petition for my induction and becoming united with those within.
  • I come in honor and I walk in power this very moment that I stand before them, willing to prove myself to one and all within the Tower.
  • I come to show that I have chosen this as my Way.

It is taught to us from historians and scholars, that in order to find ones Way, you need someone who has already walked their path and found their Way. Only can one hope to truly learn from such a person as all of them. To have the aid and instruction with the proper knowledge and feel this is what was needed to strengthen in my power.

Thus, my path has led me here, and I seek to join the family of the Tower. I offer my life to all within, to defend the family with my dying breath and beyond if possible or needed.

Su'dhaa na-gnosa. Gnosa na kris-a. Kris na su'ta. Everything is knowledge. Knowledge is power. Power is everything.

Time passes. Day comes, blood flows And in the distance you hear the wind whisper to every ear it caresses. “It is time. Time for the Obsidian Tower to Rise again." I cross the Lake of Fear for spells, watch the Legionaries strut around and I mock the pakras in good humor. Well humor for me at least. Time passes well and my knowledge and strength grow.

I was granted permission to be q’hala and assigned to Talinvor to be my mis’ri. I am apprehensive because he has also just recently acquired a shira’qa. Feels like history repeating itself before I even get started. Should I be alluring as Priestess are in the Temple? Should I use the skills I have only witnessed to ensure proper teaching this time? Time will tell. I will work at proper etiquette and do my best and watch wearily. The Lorekeeper has a reputation that makes me nervous.

Ninth month of the year 5120:

Fate is a fickle mistress it is said. I met a woman by the name of Mistress Hepit. She worked art as if it was a caress of life upon the skin of many. I sensed she did not like to touch anyone at the same time it was the price to pay for her wonderful works of art. So it was worth it to her. The piece of art moved me so, that I have taken up this passion with her. Upon my second crossing of her path it was agreed I would become her apprentice, but only after I finished q’hala training. The path to the Way has shown me a junction. I will stay true to the path I am on. Then look for this way once more.

(Scribbled in a quick hand:)
Mis’ri Talinvor does love to hear the sound of his own voice. My tongue lacks the finesse for the ancient tongue and it grates on him. That is visible upon his face, regardless how he lounges upon the sofa in the tea parlor. I should jot down a few notes here.

Professions was one of the first things I learned:

  • wizard = kris'a flach (blade of power. lit. "power blade")
  • sorcerer = misri me'thor (master of pain)
  • empath = ni su me'thor (stealer of pain)
  • cleric/priest = lo'mah (f)/lo'mai (m) (lit. priestess/priest)
  • bard = misri su'gnosa (master of knowledge)
  • ranger = ni su khadesh (stealer of shadows)
  • rogue = khadesh'a flach (blade of shadow. lit. "shadow blade")
  • warrior = liastha'a (warrior!)

Written separately from the rest:

Monk = Nuja’Tah Fighter spiritualist

Part of my tasks will be to perform a Telling to reveal my background and how I came here. Then to apply discourse to my caste and finally my profession.

(Scribbled in a quick hand again:)

Lessons of symbols, and thrones. I wrote an in-depth paper on this, please refer to that for the entirety of the lesson. Quick notes however are:


The throne of Balance is made of Glaes, and currently held by Libri Eoghain
The Throne of Warlod is made of Rolaren, and currently held by Ta'krak'th Xeta
The Throne of the Essence is made of Onyx, and currently held by Ta'a'flach Archious
The Throne of Emmisary is made of Black Ora and was last held by our current Ta’la’hai Avaia.
The Throne of our Ta’la’hai, may she remain forever, is the Obsidian Chair and representing the Highlord.

And as days pass the worst of worst more language lessons. My tongue still grates against mher Mis'ri

It is at this point that I have learned that mher Mis'ri Talinvor will be reading this journal and I should be keeping record of our Lessons and thoughts regarding them. What is written is written.

Time passes. Day comes, blood flows And in the distance you hear the winds laughter echoing outwards. Cross the Lake of Fear for spells, watch the Legionaries strut around and mourn the loss of good humor. Time passes well and my knowledge and strength grow.

Ta’stry’noi Archious graced my lessons this day. I am unsure if it was to ensure my studies were going well or if he had high hopes that I was going to be given to him for experiments. He did offer wise words. Know thy enemy and their weakness.

(Scribbled notes in haste:)

Power is Everything
Emotion betrays truth
Truth is knowledge
Knowledge is Power
Power creates Magic
Magic creates Truth
Truth is Knowledge
Knowledge is Power
Power is Everything

Tenth month of the year 5120:

Shield expedition, too much to write and note of. I am cleaning off debris and one of the first to hold, in honor, a shield found possibly from a time long before me. In the time of Despana and the great battle itself. Rhoska-tor the location of Maelshyve, and where the Dhe'nar lived for eons before moving to Sharath.

(OOC note: The following is the loresong created/presented by the group for a shield found under the guidance of the Ta'Illistim curator, Zenlynn Veythorne Illistim.)

The bellows sound in the caverns deep below the earth like the roars of the Drakes of auld. The pound of hammers upon metal, staccato in its sharp pulse sounds like the beating heart of some great demon trapped by the rocks of Rhoska-Tor. The coppery scent of blood rises from the trough used to quench the heat of the forging and diamond used to etch my name in between the polished leather straps made from the hide of our elven enemy. The dark sculpture of my creation gleams in the dim orange glow. “Morna” is my name, and I am a bulwark made to serve the army of the undead queen.

A desiccated hand lifts me, and turning from the eyeless rows of soldiers ready to give their unlife in service, presents me to another. I feel the sudden warmth of life as a new hand grips me. I feel the beating heart of a human who turns to face his living brethren kneeling before him in deference. I sense an uneasiness from my new master, and despite his words of assurance to his people that they will be free of the yoke of the elves, I wonder if he will soon become one of the eyeless soldiers standing behind him.

The thrum of marching drowns out all sound, a small contingent of the living surrounded by legions of the dead. The looming shadow of black Maelshyve stands ominous behind, watching silently for the barren plains to be breached by the enemy. How long they waited, could not be known, for the forges of the keep made dark clouds so thick that they blotted out the light. My master did not light a torch, for the dead legions surrounding us do not need light to see - and it would be foolish to stand like a beacon for the enemy.

The sound of a horn echoes across the blasted plains and then another and another rise up in challenge to the reign of chaos that has consumed the world. The thunder of armor-shod feet and the battle cries of those foolish enough to challenge death itself enter the fields as a wave. The human that holds me bellows commands to his company - standing fast against his enemy - his heartbeat quickens, not with fear - but with determination and the bitterness of hate. Around him, the legions of the dead remain silent, the only sounds are the clash of weapons and the screams of the living.

The clash of battle is finally upon us, as the axe of a dwarf is blocked and I am swung around to slice his throat with my sharp edge. An elven bowman is bashed from a charge, his face a ruin of flesh and blood and bone. The grey ash of the forges falls upon us like desolate snow, the wreckage of death a colorful tapestry upon the pale canvas.

The bodies twitch, then slowly contort as they rise again to their feet, shambling toward a desiccated creature which stands as taller than any elf and possessing a crown of bones. The creature’s eyes blaze with an ominous red hue captured within dark sockets of its skull. The crackle of bone and magic add to the cacophony of the banshees’ wails and the blood curdling screams of those that die painfully in their wake.

The human that wields me, falters. Visions of death and the rise of unlife surround us. A beating heart in the middle of all this, the palpable sense of fear bubbling up that even I can feel such dread. This will not do. I am a bulwark to the dark fortress and will serve still after this human is absorbed into the legion.

The battle ebbs and flows like the tide, the legions pressed back toward the black walls and then surge forward as the fallen rise again to turn against their own. The dull monotone of uttered magic is heard echoing against the sky and in an instant the sky cracks open in flame as horrors from other valences pour forth. These creatures rend flesh from bone and scorch the ground where they walk. The human’s heart race and I taste his fear.

The creatures push against the sea of dead aside and begin to tear at the walls of Maelshyve itself. An unending wave continues to escape through more and more tears in the veil. Something gives chase to us, and I feel heat like the forge gaining as the human runs in fear. A single misstep sends the human tumbling. He rolls to place me over him, as a claw rending into the metal. The human is too slow, and the creature’s other claw tears a gash in his throat.

I feel the life quickly drain from the human beneath me, but then suddenly grow cold. His dead hand takes hold, and rises to again join the legion. As he shuffles forward, an explosion rips past and I am overtaken by nothing.

Weather has gotten considerably colder than I am used to. But Lessons are Lessons.


  • A Warriors single braid

This purpose is to keep the hair out of their way. But also keeps it from being easily grabbed by an enemy. The length of the braid is representative of the Warrior's prowess in battle. For if an enemy does grab it, they can easily slice it off in a single cut.

  • Warlock is 2
  • Temple is 3
  • Council is 5 - know your council "Ta'la'hai, Ta'a'flach, Ta'lo'mah, Ta'krak'th, Ku'utare.
  • Highlord is 7

This was followed by another lengthy Lesson of the Ancient Tongue. Notes include:

Times of day:

Dawn - sh'soci'q
Morning - um'ni
Noon - ta'soci'q
Afternoon - she'ri
Dusk - ku'soci'q
Evening - sh'rein
Midnight- shon'shtar'rein

Victory before Pride, While one can haste a strike with a weapon, it leaves them vulnerable if they miss the timing. But there is a better way, in the case of a bard a stunning shout instead - which allows them to keep up defenses, and in some situations that is the better option. Always remember - Victory before pride. And a victory is given to those that are not dead.

I wonder at what cost is a Victory a Victory if you're not proud of what you did?

There are THREE forms of power.

There is the power of KNOWLEDGE. This is learning and studying information. This is the strongest point of the Temple caste.
The second is MANIPULATION. This is the ability to convince and redirect others to accomplish something. This is the specialty of the Warlock Caste
The power of WILL.. or Force of Will is the ability to lead, inspire or even intimidate. This is expected and required for the Warrior Caste.

(notes are reiterated again below:)
Power of Knowledge is the specialty of Temple Caste | Power of Manipulation is the specialty of Warlock Caste |Power of Will is the specialty of Warrior Caste

The points of reflection on the path of The Way
Aka: The Way Notes & Manifesto Family, Survival, Self-Perfection, Opinion, Power, Honor, Unity, Family

Today’s lessons were the depth understanding of the tenants we live by is given to us by Noi'sho'rah and Tah'lad's example. Very in-depth as always, just like back in Eh’lah listening to them drone on and on.

1. Don’t limit yourself to the static of philosophies of religion and idealism.  I know this from the day I knew my name. Learn from the Akrati, do not emulate them
2. There is no good or evil, only Right or Wrong.
3. Recognize the strength and purpose in others. Everyone has a use, or can be used as a tool in some way.
4. Achieve harmony within ourselves by challenging both mind and body.   Balance, it’s all about Balance.
5. We do not let ourselves to be controlled by the tools of emotions.  This is the toughest one for me.  Punishments have been applied more than once in aiding me to learn this lesson. 
6. Do not hold pride over victory.   . . .  We are a people of unity.
7. Do not tolerate weakness.  This is obvious.  Excuses are only good for those who make them.
8. We do not allow living any born or yet unborn of Dhe’nar that is not pure. Such couplings that result in tainted offspring weaken our bloodline. Any that disregard this law betrays the Family and forfeits the privilege of being Dhe’nar. . . again I have known this since the first breath I took.
9. All those who have Lost their way, can find it again. They can return to us if they choose the path of enlightenment. It’s never too late; I will help lead them if possible.
10. Knowledge above all things.  Knowledge truly is power


Similarities: Certainty of superiority, desire for power in various forms, disliked by other cultures

Differences: View of place in the world, afterlife, interactions with other cultures

Faendryl want power now, for personal gain and will backstab their own to get it. It's reactive power goals, and not always based in real skill or ability.

Dhe'nar want to earn power in an afterlife, so they seek perfection in themselves and in their race. They are proactive in that aim, via bloodlines, castes and tests so everything earned is respected and obtained on merit. Dhe'nar are thinking toward elevating their entire population, not just individuals.

Eleventh month of the year 5120:

Honor seems to be todays focus.

A discussion regarding honor seem to spread throughout the halls of the Tower this evening. There seem to be a few perspectives to it. The whole thing revealed to me that honor to one is not always the honor of another. An honor for a shira’qa is to serve her Mis’ri. But the Honor of the Family is a code of conduct of unity. It is the roots of our tree . . . it is Dignity and Respect .

Personal honor is determined internally by one’s own commitment to life. Some say this is predetermined ethics. My intentions and my actions determine my honor, not the thoughts of others. I know right from wrong. However, It is not always black and white. So I will have to do the best that I can and live a life of honor that holds truth and purity of intentions.

Today the Ta’la’hai Avaia showed me a tome.

It was an amethyst-set rolaren tome: A wide circle was carved from the engraved black rolaren in the center of the cover, and that space is filled by dark-hued amethysts that combine with obsidian to form the Dhe'nar crest. The rolaren, obsidian, and amethyst had been joined together so skillfully that the crest is as flat as a mirror, with no cracks or ridges between pieces. Lettering on the first page could be dimly seen through the translucent crest, though the amethyst and obsidian cast too many shadows for it to be legible.

Power is everything.
A tear. A rock. The air we breathe. The cry of a broken heart and the scream of a young sylph finding release in death. There is untapped, innate power in all that is around us. One need only to hold the key to unlock the great potential in the world in order to fully understand what it is to be power itself. One need only to tap into this vast reserve to achieve the unthinkable, the unimaginable . . . the unexplainable acts of greatness that shape and define the world, or tear all that is known down around its inhabitants.

It is founded within the castes –

Temple caste focus on internal, how to empower the people through the Way and through the bloodline. Spiritual development.

Warlock focuses on how to control - how to gain power from the world around them and manipulate it to serve their own purpose.

Warrior protects the people, and do not have lofty ambitions beyond their prowess and honor in battle.

I have lofty ambitions and believe in the First Born's blood line.

I was sent to Ta'a'flach Archious for a task and to ask about his caste. I do not believe he has time for the likes of me, being q’hala but I also know he believes in my strength and knows I will not be q'hala forever. He managed to pull away from his books and look at me, even if it was just for a moment. But in that moment, I could see in his eyes, I was as something other than a possible subject for his experiments. His task for me was to answer the question about the Essence of the magical flows. He was busy and despite the answer being quick on my tongue so was the dismissal. With the time, I ended up giving it a great deal of thought and study to his question after all.

I had to understand what magic really is on its own. On its own it is nothing. It cannot create or destroy, despite how it may seem or look. It is basically the art of taking what is already there and bending and forming it like any other tool to serve its user

Magic, on its own, is nothing. Magic cannot create, and it does not destroy, despite appearances to the contrary. At its core, magic is the art of taking what is already there and bending and twisting it until it serves the function one would like. The Wizard does not create a flame any more than the act of striking a match does, it simply coalesces and frees the ambient flame in the area. Thus, the basis of magic is taking a desired pattern and coercing the local forces into it.

Transformation, self-control and focus. The will for it to be this way. Ta’a’flach Archious summarized it for me as he gave his approval. The flows of energy are what they are. They take the form imposed upon them by the caster's will.

Next I was sent to the Libri Eoghain to seek answers of what he believed with the Temple Caste.

Each time our paths cross I feel a kindred soul to him. His treatment was that of the community as in my youth. Empowered in the knowing of being one of the First Born.

He spoke of all the caste but struck home hardest with this comment. So much so, I am thinking of making sure I slip it into My telling.
"The Temple caste rules our entire society. We are the caste that has not only devoted ourselves to the practice of the Way, but also to its exploration on a physical and philosophical level. The Temple is the shining beacon around which our society revolves."

Time passes. Day comes, blood flows and the winds ensure you can feel the coldness of its touch tickling every exposed piece of flesh it can find. Cross the Lake of Fear for spells, watch the Legionaries strut around and mourn the loss of good humor. Time passes well and my knowledge and strength grow.

Ta’la’hai Avaia sends me to find Mnar for lessons on the Warrior Caste.

First month of the year 5121:

Keeping a journal is getting tougher for me, the weight of papers and they are always getting in the way of other things I must keep with me. I have stuffed it in the locker more than a few times and this has caused a lapse in keeping my writing up. But not so much that the important lessons are lost.

The question of “Have you always succeeded in seeing your plans to fruition?” was asked by the Ta’la’hai Avaia, may she always remain in Power.
I didn’t reply correctly. This then became Mis’ri’s duty to show me why the answer was incorrect. The other q’hala Leshe was the smarter one when posed with the question too.

My answer was, "I do not think anyone’s plans always come to fruit, there is always a chance of failure."
The Ta’la’hai said I lacked confidence. I have seen the error of the answer I gave, and what I have now come to understand.

The correct answer clarified by my Mis'ri is:

Eii, because I have learned how to adapt and survive. While my first plan may not play out how I liked, I will come up with an alternative, change it, and alter my goal. In the end I will still be sure to be victorious despite setbacks.

I have taken this lesson to heart, because it defines who we are as Dhe'nar. I was reminded that we do not give up, else we would not have survived. We adapt, we change and we evolve.

Time passes. Day comes, blood flows And in the distance you hear the wind howl as it races out across the lands seeking answers it can never hear. No more crossing the Lake of Fear for spells, but now stand in a room suffering the stench of unwashed bodies. Time passes slowly and my knowledge, strength and impatience grows.

Second month of the year 5121:

Lessons have stopped. My Telling is at hand...
A Q'hala must do the following tasks for the Telling:

  • A presentation about oneself, and what brings me from Eh'lah.
  • A presentation about the Warrior caste.
  • A presentation about the monk profession.

Shortly after my telling, I was corrected on part of my telling regarding the Temple being the center of our society. I have seen the error of my ways and now know, All Castes are equally shared in the power, not just one. They work in unity.

Final Entry, Tilamaires, day 16 of the month Fashanos in the year 5121

Today is the day I turn my little blue leather journal over to Tah’lon Vorrith after the Great Hunt.

Whatever Happens, I would like him to finish the story for me and be proud of his q’hala.

With this journal I present him with the chrism trinket that I have worn around my neck hidden beneath my under robes next to the flesh. May it serve him as it has me. It is somewhat hard to look at but if he wears it close to his heart as I did, he will be fine. The end of my q’hala training is left for him to fill in.

Tabubu ~

Definitions (player created lore/language not otherwise specified)

  • q'halae = (plural). Student of The Way, Dhe'nar only. Generally treated less than a slave, in order to teach true humility so that they understand pride. Female is q'hala, male is q'hali.
  • Warriors = in reference to the Warrior Caste of Dhe'nar. The four castes being Warlock, Temple, Warrior and Worker.
  • First Born = The Dhe'nar, or 'dyari' in the native tongue. Dhe'nar are very pure blood oriented in their lineages, so they believe theirs to be untainted from the first elves.
  • pakra = A heretic. Someone that does not follow The Way.
  • The Way = the cultural philosophy of the Dhe'nar, that turned aside the political ambition and segregation of the elven Houses and seeks perfection in self improvement. It is an ideal that they will some day ascend above the Drakes as a people.
  • Ta'la'hai = High Lord. This is the title of the highest ranking Dhe'nar of any organized population (ie. city or outpost). In this instance, Ta'la'hai here refers to the leader of the Obsidian Tower in Wehnimer's Landing. Ta'la'hah is the female version, though Avaia prefers the male title.
  • Su'dhaa na-gnosa. Gnosa na kris-a. Kris na su'ta. = This is a portion of the 'Mantra of the Magi', taught to Warlock caste members though it is still important to all castes. Gnosa is the root word for knowledge, kris is the root word for power. (Everything is knowledge. Knowledge is power. Power is everything.)
  • mis'ri = master. As students are (often) treated as less than a slave in their training, the same word is used for a teacher as it is for the master of a slave. Mis'ri is male, mis'ra is female.
  • shira'qa = personal slave. They perform essential support for a prominent Dhe'nar.
  • Lorekeeper = term used for a bard.
  • mher = my
  • Ta’stry’noi = new word for the position of Essence. Old term was Ta'a'flach, which was 'High Blade', pulled from the wizard term of kris a'flach. Both terms are acceptable usage and vary depending on the generation of (Tower) Dhe'nar.
  • Libri = new word for the position of Balance. Old term was Ku'utare, which was 'Not crooked, or Not tainted'. Both terms are acceptable usage and vary depending on the generation of (Tower) Dhe'nar.

See Also