Children of Barashendu

[IN PROGRESS]
From the Journal of Issandr, 392 A.C He appears in the world from time to time. Enough that his stories are commonly known, especially stories about Barashendu's Children; their name translates to "tabaxi" or "catfolk" in other languages. The stories say that the race was born when Barashendu fell in love with a human woman. That's what they used to say, anyway. All the Children died out or were hunted down and killed in the dark ages after the The Fall of Alousia. But now they're back. People say they were just hiding out all this time, that they retreated from the world because of their mistreatment. And the Children seem content that this be said. But I know differently. I felt Barashendu enter our Valley from the Deep Forest. Most of us who knew the signs knew what they meant. The entire Valley went still; everything seemed sharper, cleaner, more real and alive for a moment. I felt whispers of the deathly stillness and slowness of stalking, the wild abandon of the chase, the warmth and fullness of the long stretches between hunts. And behind it all a wisdom, a merciless kindness and intelligence that whispered in the back of my mind. It was like a memory of a mother's kindness to her infant. A warm, glowing smile from a creature who could shred you without a thought yet you know in the core of your being would, never, never do so.

It lasted only a moment, but afterwards i saw the Tahmineh. We exchanged a look of such openness, trust and understanding that I knew I was right. She had felt it too and understood, her madness clearing for a few minutes. It took a long time to return. There was nothing I could do. She never even knew she slipped away again. She never does, thank god. She never harms anyone, and she defends the Valley with singleminded ferocity. We would have been destroyed more than once had she not appeared to save us. But something's happened to her. Barashendu passing through this world was the last time she was as she used to be. That was more than six hundred years ago.


From the Journal of Issandr The Children of Barashendu returned six hundred years ago. Either that or they returned from the brink of extinction by hiding deep in the Tanatran Mountains. They are called tabaxi now. Not many know what they are. Mistaken for lycanthropes most often. Lord Barashendu has returned to this plane again. I don't know what that means, but it frightens me. The emergence of another generation of Children can't be a coincidence.
From the Journal of Issandr I know the truth about the Children. During the dark age after the fall of Alousia and Godossea, we tried to find and shelter as many as we could, but it was hard. The roads were dangerous; we had to defend the Valley and the Grove at all costs (or else where would we bring these refugees if we found them?) There weren't enough of us. We found fewer and fewer. And then none. We kept looking, kept listening, but there was nothing.
From the Journal of Issandr I know the Children were wiped out. I know because I tried to stop it. And now they are back, just six hundred years after Barashendu Himself passes through our world. The two are not a coincidence. These Children are new. They know what happened last time, and they have kept themselves hidden, building their strength and only came out tentatively. Even today they keep their true strength, their alliances and their strongholds hidden. Envoys, traders, adventurers, outcasts. That's what they appear. They seem a few rough bands, living hard in remote areas and only now returning from their long exile to the place they were driven from. But these Children are real, and a young enough race to still hear Barashendu's commandments ringing in their blood. They are here for a reason.
From the Journal of Issandr I know the Children. They adopted me as one of their own the last time. They know me for a distant relative. But through the mysteries. I started wildshaping to a lion shortly after He left. It was like I turned and looked at something that was there all along, and I just hadn't been letting myself see it. I knew I was Issandr of Carentan's Forest and at the same time I was Issandr Dahn'tu, of the Hosts of the Celestial Kindred of the Deep. I was newly born from the lowest harmonies of the Song of the Deep. I had also become a Dahn'tu, who are each a Shadow of Barashendu Himself. How blessed am I? Or what troubles lay ahead that my Lords and the Song need me so well prepared? What do they foresee? I am thinking along these lines again since the Kindred Uetishima arrived. Maybe it's simply that Kindred answered kindred. But he won't say. Or doesn't know. He is not quick-thinking. But he is wise, I think. And brave. An honest solider. Off to see the worlds, maybe. He has potential.
From the Journal of Issandr Sometimes I spend days or weeks on end as a celestial lion. Everything smells and tastes and feels and looks different. It's been years since I unlearned enough to know that this is also my shape. And it never gets old.