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The Echoing Whispers | Pack Lore Thread

The Echoing Whispers | Pack Lore Thread
Posted 2020-11-16 00:30:37 (edited)

Hey all! This thread is more or less a collection of a bunch of my pack’s lore and stories. Some it may be about their religion/tradition/beliefs/folklore, some of it may be about their history. Basically, each one is told from with one of my “Story Tellers” (in lore title for some pupsitters) as the narrator.. Some posts may have more than one story, and the idea is more or less each post is the story or stories told in a night or a single gathering of the pack. Overtime, different wolves will be the narrators, sort of showing off a bit of the pack’s history in that respect too. You’re more than welcome to make replies to this thread, as I’ll keep at the bottom of this post a table of contents for each actual story entry. I may make another thread in the future for a more informative and simplified version of the lore, which if I do, I'll link somewhere here.
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As you approach a strange, yet welcoming pack gathered around in a mostly-circle, you are greeted by one of them. “Welcome stranger. If you mean no harm, you will not be harmed, but if not, then I ask you to leave before you regret coming here.” Their face and stance relays caution, yet something akin to friendliness is also there. After explaining you mean no harm, their expression quickly changes to excitement. “Good, then you are just in time! Tonight, just as every night, our Story Tellers will tell us all a tale, be it of the gods, of spirits, lessons to learn, or ages passed. Take what you will of these tales, but there is a saying spoken by one of our gods, ‘Remember the past, for the future is written upon its bones.’  To us, these stories are our history, on which our lives and our beliefs as we know them were built on, and it is important that we remember and teach these to all our pack, or any who wish to learn. And if nothing else, you may find a lesson or amusement in them, and no one here wishes to force these beliefs upon anyone, but perhaps you will understand us more if you have the patience to listen to such tales.”

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Table of Contents
The links are labelled as “Narrator: Title”. If the post as more than one story, they are separated like this “Story One| Story Two|...”
Post 1- 'Kelo: Origins of Creation| Aephier: The Sea of Stars
Post 2-'Kero: How the Winter's Herald Came to Be


Darklily
#1058

Posted 2020-11-16 00:30:59 (edited)

Origins of Creation

You watch as a somewhat small but not sickly wolf steps to the center of the circle. His whole appearance is grayish-silver with lots of white, and his soft green eyes express his nervousness. “Um…” he kind of struggles to start, and it is obvious he is not fully comfortable being the center of attention. One wolf in the pack, however, gives him a reassuring nod and he seems to find his confidence quickly. “My name is Zateri’Kelo, and tonight-” he looks up at the night sky above everyone gathered, “-tonight I tell the tale of how the gods created both our world and theirs.”
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Long ago, before anything truly existed, there were but two beings. Utura and Xeto were but formless sources of divine power and will. Xeto had a mind ever curious, like a pup discovering the world outside the den, ever challenging himself and Utura. Utura, ever patient, ever kind, put up with all Xeto’s riddles and puzzles and mind games. One day, Xeto decided riddles and games were not enough, however. He wanted to truly test himself, and Utura, and see what they were both capable of. He went about giving himself forms, many of them, so numerous perhaps even he does not know how many there were in total. He took on the form of a great stag and thought truly this was the greatest of his forms, but then he thought of one more, one he imagined could take down the stag in the right circumstances. This form he called “wolf” and it became his favorite. He showed this, and his other forms, to Utura, and then, in his ever curious, ever bold way, he challenged her. “See what I can do, great Utura. I must wonder, what can you do to match or best me?”

Utura thought long and hard about what she could do. She saw Xeto’s forms and was tempted to make such for herself, but she was not a selfish being and could not do something that was solely for herself. She kept thinking about Xeto’s forms however, and they gave her the inspiration she needed. Utura found a large rock, still, colorless, and unmoving, but she would paint it soon with much color and life. She showed Xeto this rock and told him she would make this rock into a world where creatures like those of his forms could exist and thrive. She then made her three children, Reia, Tavero, and Dara, who would guide mortals into life, through life, and leaving it. And then she set about doing just as she said. When the world was made perfect for mortal life to thrive, she put herself into the rock, and it became her home, she the living will of creation itself.


Xeto saw the home Utura had made for herself and mortal beings and he saw it fit to make such for himself and the gods and their servants. It would be called Moaehetur, or the “Dark Realm”, for it was not made with Utura’s light, but it was not a place of darkness. Rather, it was a place of divine beauty and perfection. It was a mirror of the mortal world, but it was not an exact copy. It was made to be what this the living world would have been if mortals had never strayed from the right path.

The Sea of Stars

Once Zateri’Kelo finished his story, he gave a slight bow and then took his place back in the circle. It seemed as though the night’s events should have been over, but before the pack could disperse, another wolf stepped forward. This wolf was large and very strong. His coat was mostly black and white, but with accents of earthen brown. His green eyes shone with intent and purpose. All the pack stopped as he sat down at the center of the circle. Shadows seemed to both be attratched yet repelled by his presence.

“I, Aephier, son of Tah’Dajo and the demon Xuna, though I am no Story Teller, feel compelled to finish young ‘Kelo’s story, for this was not the end of how the gods created worlds,” the male speaks. “I will tell you all the tale that inspired me in my youth to reach for higher purpose, to be more than just what my parents would make me to be, to not be a pawn to their plans, but to dream and aspire to be something for myself and for all the world.”
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Xeto gave dominion of the day to his daughter with the sun goddess so she could call forth her mother’s light to the mortal world, and to his son whose mother was the moon goddess he gave the night, as to give relief from sun’s warmth. His son Ni’Sydro became a protector of mortals, living among them and growing to love them. Ni’Sydro’s realm among the gods was a vast sea that reflected the night sky, but it was not the sky we see now. It was dark and quiet. Ni’Sydro, as he lived among mortals, could often hear the mutterings of them, their doubts and their worries. Some feared death, for they could not know what lied beyond the grave, if anything. Ni’Sydro pitied these mortals who feared death, for he knew that great joy could be found among the spirits of the dead. He soon found, however, that the dead too had their worries. They worried for their living kin, for they could not see what became of them since they left. He sought to ease the worries of the living, and moreover to give the dead also a means to watch over the living.

Ni’Sydro went to Dara and Kel’Tahera with the concerns of the living and the dead and his desire to ease these. Kel’Tahera told him every mortal soul had within it a light, a light that could shrine in the darkest of places. Together, Ni’Sydro and Dara formed a plan with this knowledge. The sea of Ni’Sydro’s realm soon became a window into the realm of the dead, and this window would become the night sky itself. Every soul that is born has the potential to become one of the bright lights that now fill Ni’Sydro’s sea.
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As Aephier finishes his story, he looks up to the sky and the stars above. “We all, mortals and gods alike, may have doubts about ourselves, or the future, or our past, and while we should look to the Stars for guidance, we must also remember that one day we could be those great lights, shining down and guiding the generations to come. As one of my brothers once said, ‘A light fades, a star dying before it is born, when you look up to those bright beacons and envy what they have without considering your worth.’ A star not yet born dies every time we think of ourselves as not enough or worthless, and this fading of the light I challenge you my pack to fight with every ounce of strength you have. No one is without the right to look upon themselves and judge their own worth. In the end, it is this which we will be remembered most, and those bright beacons above us are our calling to live by it, for they found peace in death because they found peace in who they were.”

With this, Aephier lets out a long howl to the stars above him. The others join in quickly. When it is over, Aephier and Mar’Saryah, the pack’s leader, dismiss the nightly gathering.


Darklily
#1058

Posted 2020-12-16 15:02:52

How the Winter’s Herald Came to Be

As a new night began to settle on the Echo Whispers pack, they gathered for their growing tradition of nightly stories. It was a particularly cold night, winter nearing soon, and the sky was gray, snow threatening to fall. A pale gray and white wolf stepped forward to the center of the circle. He looked much like sky above. As he opened his mouth to speak, a pair of ravens landed, one at his feet and the other on his back, each with one red eye, the other normal. “Well, I was going to tell the tale of how skunks got their stink, but it seems my dear cousin has another idea,” the pale wolf said with a small laugh. “I, Tar’Eit Ly’Kero, son of Tara Zarah, know many of you have seen these strange birds amongst our pack. We are no longer small in numbers, and I have heard whispering among our newer or younger members, asking what the meaning of the ravens with red eyes is. We all as wolves know that ravens can be aid to us in lean times, and to us in this pack, the raven is symbolic of Dara, Shepherd of the Dying, but these ravens are much different than ordinary ravens. They are Tah’Nimo, first born of Dara, manifesting before us. It is fitting on a night like this that he begs I tell his tale.”
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Long ago, the god Dara angered his brother Tavero, and fell in love with a mortal. This mortal, Kandariet, had previously tricked Dara and in doing so both she and Dara defied Tavero. This mortal, Kandariet had won her freedom from death, but she called on Dara many times over her long life, and they grew closer. Eventually, she gave birth to his son, but Tavero cursed this child. Dara’s son would not live long, and soon grew weak and faded away. Dara took his son into his domain, and Kandariet soon joined them. Dara’s son wished for a second chance at mortal life, and finally asked his father what this would take. Dara told him the one who controlled such things was his cruel brother Tavero, the very same god who cursed the boy.
Not discouraged by knowing Tavero was responsible for his fate, Dara’s son went to his uncle. He wanted to mend his father and uncle’s relationship as well as get back what was stolen from him. He went as far as to pledge himself to Tavero if he was given but one more chance at mortal life, vowing to spread his praise among mortals. Tavero, pleased with his nephew’s vow, granted his wish, and more so, he promised that his nephew would be reborn into a place of privilege and power, son of a ruler, a prince within whatever lands he lived in.

Just as Tavero promised, Dara’s son was reborn as a prince among mortals, albeit in a cold, snow-filled land. His mortal father, the king was a harsh father with strict ideals of the world, and more importantly the gods. Like many, he blamed Tavero for unleashing demons on the mortal world as he cast them from the heavens. When his son and would-be heir began praising Tavero, for he was the maker of kings and heroes, the king could not stand it. The prince and the king became distant as the king became as cold as his lands to his son. And when the prince dared to fall in love with a woman of common birth, his father finally disowned him and cast him out to the outskirts of his kingdom. The prince would live on his life there, continuing to praise Tavero and spread his teachings to any who would listen. His father, the king, would die as a miserable wretch, lonely despite being surrounded by advisers and so-called friends. He became paranoid in his old age, fearing the anger of the gods, and when he died, he faced just that.

When the prince had died, he remembered who he truly was, son of Dara, and remembered the bargain he made with his uncle, Tavero. Tavero offered him once more another chance at mortal life. He apologized, saying he had hoped more of the king, who claimed to be a pious king. Dara’s son accepted, but he told his uncle not to feel sorry, for the life he lived was a happy one, despite the king. It was a cold land, as if the snow and ice had seeped into the very heart of its people, but among these people were some of the brightest flames of hope. And indeed, he could still feel the cold imbued within himself, but with it was the hope that something brighter was to follow.

From there on out, Dara’s son was called Tah’Nimo, Lord of Frost, and whenever he was reborn among mortals, snow fell on the land. After some time, he was a god truly in his own right, able to go between worlds as he pleased. Tah’Nimo returned to the cold land he was first reborn into. It had been many generations since the cruel king ruled, a king who disowned his own son and heir. The land was no longer cold and dead, but alive and warm like a spring morning, the snow and ice melting away. Within the heart of the kingdom Tah’Nimo found a temple to Tavero, and there he found a memorial dedicated to the prince who he once was. He learned that the prince’s own son succeeded the king, and changed the kingdom for the better.
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Ly’Kero finished his story and looked back towards the ravens and smiled. He muttered something under his breath and the birds appeared to respond to him in their own way. They then flew off, departing from the gathering, as the snow continued to fall. “Winter is not a time of sorrow, and mourning the long days and warmth does us no good. It is a time to better ourselves and our pack, and for waiting. With experience, we know the warmer days will return, but we can not take that for granted, for a dream feeds the soul but not the empty stomach. And yet must not let hope flee from our hearts like prey from an inexperienced cerri*. We must hold onto it and let it be what keeps us together through good and bad times.”
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*Cerr means “stalk/track, hunt” and cerri is the term my pack uses for a hunter.

Darklily
#1058

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