Of Friendship & Hate
The twins' story took me by interest especially because the representatives of Mor Skoiri hoard were present on the burial as well. I was expecting mostky animosity to je still running between the kapuli clan. But more obvious was that there was friendship on both sides. As Hanz-duf said: "The most of those who left from the northern holes joined this paid Howard which wanders through the planes for loot, martial glory and trase after all". The elders of the kapuli clan were very troubled by this situation. They looked through the narcotic fume of herbs for so long until the ghosts revealed the thruth. And the revealed thruth was that they should not keep the hate between those who left them and the whole hoard. So the two groups learnt how to coopearte even thou they both have their own life. The animosity was reduced only to the growling of the two brothers which to the other uruki and kapuli was only for laught. Hanz-duf himself spends a lot of time on his traveles at other Mor Skoiri as I understood.
The twins' story took me by interest especially because the representatives of Mor Skoiri hoard were present on the burial as well. I was expecting mostky animosity to je still running between the kapuli clan. But more obvious was that there was friendship on both sides. As Hanz-duf said: "The most of those who left from the northern holes joined this paid Howard which wanders through the planes for loot, martial glory and trase after all". The elders of the kapuli clan were very troubled by this situation. They looked through the narcotic fume of herbs for so long until the ghosts revealed the thruth. And the revealed thruth was that they should not keep the hate between those who left them and the whole hoard. So the two groups learnt how to coopearte even thou they both have their own life. The animosity was reduced only to the growling of the two brothers which to the other uruki and kapuli was only for laught. Hanz-duf himself spends a lot of time on his traveles at other Mor Skoiri as I understood.
“The Mor Skoiri horde is a cloud of black wings roaming the plains.“ Hanz-duf told me. “It’s a flock of those unwanted anywhere else. Those who were redundant and those craving a change. They take in anybody who can prove his loyalty, accepts the black feathers and shares the spoils. They take in uruki, kapuli, and there are even some traki among them.“ said the well traveled kapul. Traki, that’s how the creatures around me called humans. Creatures whose captive I was.
By all the heartfelt greetings, the Mor Skori were esteemed and welcomed guests of the Snaga tribe. Maybe this was predetermined by their half-nomadic lifestyle, inherent to both groups. Many gifts, for both the living members of the Snaga tribe and their deceased shaman, were brought by the horde’s caravan. They also brought two enormous drums whose deep rumbling voice kept sounding through the whole ceremony - the rabid rhythm of the drums tore my sleep into pieces which could not refresh the tired body.
By all the heartfelt greetings, the Mor Skori were esteemed and welcomed guests of the Snaga tribe. Maybe this was predetermined by their half-nomadic lifestyle, inherent to both groups. Many gifts, for both the living members of the Snaga tribe and their deceased shaman, were brought by the horde’s caravan. They also brought two enormous drums whose deep rumbling voice kept sounding through the whole ceremony - the rabid rhythm of the drums tore my sleep into pieces which could not refresh the tired body.
Bublug the One-eyed was the one who spoke the most for the black crows with Maalfolk, Loqok and others. He knew Veverâk and his kapuli because he used to be a member of their tribe. He was a talkative kapul, full of energy and a good drummer.
In one moment I recognized his handicap - one of his eyes seemed to be looking into a different direction then the other. This common eye defect, which occurs also among humans, was known to me from medical books, but this was the first time I saw it in these creatures. I asked Maalfolk why is Bublug called the One-eyed when he has both eyes in their place - even though one of them squints. Maalfolk said that yes, it is true that he had both eyes, but one was looking into this world and the other one into the spirit world. I guess I would get the same answer if I asked Maalfolk how is it possible that in spite of his handicap is Bublug quite good with the bow.
In one moment I recognized his handicap - one of his eyes seemed to be looking into a different direction then the other. This common eye defect, which occurs also among humans, was known to me from medical books, but this was the first time I saw it in these creatures. I asked Maalfolk why is Bublug called the One-eyed when he has both eyes in their place - even though one of them squints. Maalfolk said that yes, it is true that he had both eyes, but one was looking into this world and the other one into the spirit world. I guess I would get the same answer if I asked Maalfolk how is it possible that in spite of his handicap is Bublug quite good with the bow.
I was truly shocked to find out that Bublug’s companion and spouse was a human woman. She had red matted hair full of feathers, painted bones, and colourful strings. Bone necklaces coiled around her throat and she was shrouded in a cloak of rags and furs of which I was only able to identify a fox. Her eyes were steel gray, and as hard to read as her painted face. Even her age was impossible to estimate. One time I thought she was an ancient crone, other time that she might be just a little older than my mother and sometimes I cought myself ponder whether she could be just as old as myself, that only the life outside human dwellings etched more years than belonged there onto her face.
I could not convince myself that a human woman could live alongside such an inhuman creature as Bublug, so I tried to talk to her. She did not understand. She only grinned and croakily told me a couple of words which were, in turn, misunderstood by me. There our conversation failed. After those few words she lost all interest in me. She sat in front of her tent and bound together bones, feathers and strings to make amulets, into which she wove words of incantations that carried somewhere between a song and a poem. The very next night convinced me about the possibility that two so different beings can live in harmony. Bublug pounded on a drum in a fierce rhythm and Soil sang with it. Her voice was surprisingly clear and beautiful. Two melodies, seemingly so incongruous, merged into one harmonic song of both beings. I suddenly understood.
The last one I remebered of the Mor Skiori was Davy. He was a peculiar kapuli, about whom noone knew exactly, where he came from to the horde. There was a rumor, that he was banished from somewhere and beaten up to get on the journey in such way, he started to lisp. He probably got his jaw broken and the bones healed wrongly afterwars and that caused his speech defect. Unlike other kapuli he wasn`t of their wiry or almost skinny figure, he, on the contrary, was big and chunky. He didn`t really suffer from hunger. Even if Davy was, by the standards of the horde, armed with a bow and arrows, fighting wasn`t the thing he excelled in. He plaid dices passionately and he won very often. He knew, how to talk out of anything, a little of deceive and a bit of thievery, and that made him perfect for trading. But with the horde he could make his living more honestly. Mor Skiori actually did not burn their dead, but they buried them into the cairns with their belongings and Davy knew, how these cairns were built. Although I`d believe, that he learned it, because he raided a few of these.
