Can'otial: Elven Influence Across Makasing

At a bonfire early in the morning...

Cultural note: When a Can'otial speaks of "summertime" or "wintertime", she does not refer to a literal annual event, but of a stage in growth.

For example, "springtime" is used to refer to the beginning of something; a relationship, a settlement, an organization... anything that can be said to have a "beginning."

A group of druids gather,

they are camping together and enjoying each other's company for a short while. One has a lute and strumming softly begins an old elven tune¹, known as Seasons to most, sometimes the elves call it Do You Want to Live Forever?

"No, why do you want to sing that now," complains a young human sitting next to him. "It always makes me cry buckets."

"Oh, so why the protest? You know our tears are precious to Eldath." He teases her gently. "Your heart-pain reflects a compassionate heart." He leans back and starts a descant to the main tune. "Perhaps you've never heard the accompanying parts?"

"Theres's more?" she exclaims, slightly horrified.

He laughs out loud at her expression. "Child, we're elves. There's ALWAYS more."

"So, maybe you'd think we should all curl up in a deeply depressed ball and die." He grins, and plays a small flourish in lieu of punctuation. "'No, not so... Well, maybe some do, but you see, with all these years of living, we have to learn a path through the sorrow."

"So listen to the descant..."

In the springtime, when the world was new
I laughed in the gentle rains.
And gathered t' wild blooms to my breast
and carried them back to my home.

Spring flowers promise seed
I've sown them by my door

But the fair flowers wilted and soon lost their glow
and their fragrance was lost to the wind.

their colors grace my garden
their fragrance guides me home

I'll ne'r see again

as I walk

such wild folk

as I walk

such fair folk,

as I walk

lost as the years pass me by.

as I walk down the years that are mine.

For the full timeline see: Fae Related Folk of Awsranka

In the shade of a cottonwood tree, near an encampment of the Free Peoples...

"Mama, how can you stand it," Kanaka askes shyly, "I mean knowing that papa will die before you?"

Vanya smiles a bit and sighs. Ah the joys of raising a young one. The questions they ask...

"Well," she responds, still grooming the dozing pony, "how do you stand it, knowing that little Feathermane here will die before you?"

Kanaka chews on her lip thoughtfully, pausing her attempt to plait the mare's mane. "I guess I don't really think about it. I mean, that's waay in the future anyway."

"And so it is. Tomorrow will come, but truely, all we have is NOW." She pats the pony on the shoulder. "And that is enough."

Makasing Painted Pony by Cassie Storyweaver

Makasing Horse

Now

From the human perspetive, Can'otial often seem frivolous and impulsive. Their actions don't always appear to take any account of the future, preperation, or even practicality.

However, the Can'otial shelter their hearts from the pain of loss by doing their best to live entirely in the present.

In times of conflict, they fully devote themselves to duty and the fierce joy of battle.

In times of peace, they embrace the small joys brought by the day; a beautiful feather, or a friend's smile.

This indiginous horse survived in the northern plains of Makasing. Like the buffalo, they were admired by the tribes, but considered only as a wild herd animal, suitable for hunting.

The Can'otial had left everything behind on the Eastern continent, and were delighted to find their little cousins here in Makasing.

Patiently stalking the wild horses, the Can'otial accustomed them to their presences, and soon bonded with individuals, persuading them to accept a rider.

This partnership inspired the local tribes to follow their example, and an enduring relationship with the horse as a companion began.

Today these spirited animals continue to be valued members of the tribes.

By the entrance to a dwarven home...

Hamdag Drakemail crouches down by his friend, Uthorim Valhana, a Can'otial stonesinger. Tracing the outline at the base of the doorframe with his finger he asks, "how are you starting?"

"With an acorn, I think," replies Uthorim thoughfully. He picks a small chisel and scrapes a light outline on the stone. "A fitting start for a mighty family." He looks up and grins at his friend.

The next day... "So, how did the acorn come out?" asks Hamdag.

"Hmm? Oh, hi 'dag," Uthorim looks up, "yeah, I think I got the cap almost right," he says, brushing the little acorn carved into the stone. A little more work and it will be perfect..."

Two weeks later... Hamdag and his wife stand outside their home, quietly watching Uthroim work.

"He's been scraping at our door post for two weeks," whispers Rafodeth. "And he's only got an acorn and two oak leaves to show for it. Hamdag, that's only just barely 4 square inches!"

Hamdag scratches his chin through his braided beard. "Eh, well.." he answers, also whispering. "Uth's an artist. He's, ...uh... still planning out how it should go. Don't worry Raf, This doorway will be a work of art when he's finished."

One hundred thirty-four years, five months and seventeen days later... A small forest of oak trees populated by all variety of critters is carved into the front of a dwarven longhall. Locals swear that living squirrles stun themselves trying to leap into the branches. A tableu of two dwarves, a married couple sitting together, is carved under one of the main stone oaks. A middle-aged Can'otial is working on the inscription below the dwarven figures. He sighs and brushes stone dust from the finished work with his hand. Stowing his tools in a haversack, he stands and takes a few steps away to survey his work.

The inscription is in both Old Elven script and Dwarven rune: In memory of Hamdag and Rafodeth Drakemail. Forgefriends and Shieldmates.

A gang of laughing dwarf children swarm out of the lodge's entrance, hastily greeting him with family manners as they run past. Uthorim Valhana smiles to see them run and laugh. He hefts his bag, takes a last look at the doorway, then turns and starts walking... perhaps to the next unworked wall.

In the As-Sin-Wati (also known as the Spine of Makasing, or the Eastern Mountains), the Can'otial encountered Makasing's dwarven population.

While most Can'otial are more comfortable in wood and glade, some have a true affinity for stonework, and find peace in working with the "bark of the Earth Mother." Here in this mountain range, some settled among the dwarves, and set their hands to coaxing organic forms from inorganic rock.

Though the majority of the Can'otial have left Makasing following the Call West, many of their decendents come on pilgramage to these halls among the dwarven strongholds, to meditate and commune with the spirits of the artists.

Obsessive Artists

Like any sentient folk, some Can'otial find their purpose in artistic expression.

Given their much longer lifespan, an individual might consider three hundred years just barely enough time to master of a craft or art form.

To some that seems obsessive, but it is simply proportional to the kind of time a human artist is expected to spend.

by Kevin Casper

Autumn's Home was established by Can'otial druids high in the branches of the giant redwoods in the old groves of the coastal mountains.

The Call West

A deeply felt restlessness, the "Call West" as the Can'otial name it, is an instinct-driven cumpulsion.

Triggered by the growth of iron oriented technology, growing organized civilizations and dwindling wild spaces, The Call West drives Can'otial as an entire community to seek a new homeland. Sometimes they relocate to a different, sparcly populated region, or seperate continent, as they did in Makasing.

At other times, they work together to build portals connecting to another echo of Farune, finding and emigrating to a new world in the dawn of its sentient races.

On a living redwood deck, high above the forest floor...

"Eldar Valjeon," asked a young voice, "Are you going to pack up ALL the books to take with you?"

Caedra Valjeon sighed and set her pen aside. Turning, she smiled gently at her worried student.

"Anninos, you shouldn't fret so, " she admonished. "Do you really think I'd leave my favorite botinist with an empty library? Here, come sit by me for a moment." Caedra scooted over on the bench, gesturing for the young Awsrankan to join her.

"No," Annios sat , and stared into the forest, gathering her thoughts for a moment. "It's just that... well, I can't believe you're all really leaving. The books... well, don't think I'm not grateful for the library, but what will we do without you and all the other teachers?"

"Grow... learn... remember," responded Caedra, laying a hand on the woman's shoulder. "We follow the Call West because we must. It's in our nature." She looked around at the giant redwoods and the settlement they cradled, now looking rather empty as the residents prepared to leave. "And it is your nature to bring forth new wonders, master new knowledge."

"I'll miss you," was all Annios replied. And they sat together for the moment, listening to the wind in the great trees.

footnotes

1. Wherever people gather in Makasing, odds are at least one song or story shared between them was taught to them by a Can'otial. For although they pledged themselves to "live lightly on the land," the sweetness of their voices attracted a following like a flame attracts moths.
2. Silversong was established in Can'otial Summertime, around 290 CE.

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