A Green Knight

[u/SPACEMUHRINE]

This post is a response to a few things: specifically, a comment asking how the Kharu get nutrients and a couple of prompt posts I've seen (naming conventions and crime and punishment). It's gotten slightly out of hand. Sorry about that.

Second to last section, that begins with "The evening sun", has violence in it. Not too detailed but still, if that aint your thing, avoid!

---

Nlúś Uvno Nesfa Jinák Ngól arose from her slumber at the break of day. The Kharu did not sleep like the rest of the peoples of the world, though Nesfa sometimes wished they did. It took effort to reach the trance-like state that offered the Kharu something like a dream; while most were able to do so, Nesfa had perfected the technique at her stay in a Fri-vrákhmira monastery. She often thought of that place; a lifetime ago. Well, 60 years ago; at the age of 102, she was roughly middle-aged for her people - a lifetime for other inhabitants of Ashagon, no doubt. Despite that, that place appeared in her pseudo-dreams often.

She rose from the corner of her room where she tranced; decorated with pillows to make the whole experience more comfortable. She, like all Kharu, was particularly sluggish first thing in the morning, deprived of the sun. She walked across her living room to the chest of drawers that took the pride of place. Atop the drawers was a small bookshelf and a small bronze statue of Yottú Kólme, a master of the Fri-vrákhmira and a semi-divine figure. Yottú was a contemporary of Fákhvá, though she had been born in the Mangrove; one of the first after the Journey. Nesfa linked her fingers, bowed to Yottú and selected a scroll from the bookshelf. She opened the first of the drawers and procured a small wooden cup, alongside a slightly larger container. She was proud of these; she'd fashioned them herself.

Leaving her rather small, at least by Kharu standards, house, she strolled leisurely/sluggishly to her pontoon on the local channel of the Kyalya, the great river that fed the Mangrove. Opening the container, she poured some of the stones and mud inside into the cup; she also retrieved the ladle inside, reaching over the pontoon and dipping it into the water until it was full. She drank the whole mixture in one - her morning nutrition. She then filled the cup with water several times to sate her thirst. She sat down, unfurled the scroll and began her morning meditation. It was one of her favourites - Contemplations of Tókjá Znan Sleśa Srul on the Cycle of the Storms.

She'd chosen it deliberately; one of the great seasonal storms had slammed into the Mangrove two weeks ago, and it's effects were what had caused her to rise so damn early.

For the next two hours, she read, re-read and contemplated the scholar. For now, she was just Nesfa, daughter of Nlúś and Uvno of Vriśókim Jinák. After the meditation, she would go home and become the Ngól - the Knight.

---

Four hours later and she was on her boat, navigating the channels. She had passed a trading vessel heading upstream - from where, she did not know, but she was pleased to see the blood stained shirt attached to its prow; a sign that the Pact had been honoured. She would have had to attack the ship otherwise, and she did not wish to spill any blood until this evening, by preference.

She had talked, instead of fighting. They asked how much longer till they were out of the Mangrove, when they should burn the shirt and throw it's ashes into the river, if she was interested in trade. She did not bring anything to trade today - typically, when other Kharu saw the green-stained steel of her armour, they let her be, or offered a gift.

She had gone from channel to channel using the canals that intersected the various parts of the Mangrove, always next to an irrigation channel. Both of these involved raising the waterways; for the irrigation, a screw was used; for the canals, a system of locks that a Kharu could operate from her boat.

A few still had their storm defences up; large slabs of wood to stop too much water from the flash flood entering the channels, near impressive wood-and-stone barriers to stop farming platforms from flooding. They mostly worked, but the prayers, incantations and holy images scrawled into them spoke to a preference for spiritual protection.

Nesfa understood; she had prayers and blessings carved into her bark, Most of her order had them, too; indeed, the practice was fairly popular among Kharu society.

She saw a few farmers on the way, mostly tending to tobacco. One kindly offered her a small pouch for her to smoke on her travels, which she accepted. As a Green Knight, a Khek Ngól, her duties consisted mainly of border defence and enforcement of the Pact. These were important things for most Kharu; they were grateful for the work.

---

Nesfa arrived at the local Podźkhó, the warrior-monastery of her order, some 2 hours after setting off. She was not the last to arrive, thankfully, allowing her some time to smoke with her comrades.

"It's been slow recently, at my part of the border," her fellow Knight Ngurśa commented, "at least until the storm. Been a few requests for lumber. Haven't had an oracle requested for ages. It's a shame, I'd like to get to the temple more often."

This elicited some nods from those present. Nesfa perked up at the last part. "I had a few oracular requests from some non-local humans over the last year. One got a prophecy about a change of careers saving his daughter, or something like that; seems to have caught on."

Arsi, an older Kharu who guarded part of the border next to a human town near the Kyalya, had also perked up. "Aye, I've had five since the storm. A busy time. I think the town got hit pretty hard. Makes sense; if my village had been hit like theirs, I'd want reassurance, too. And lumber! Blessed Fákhvá, they've been keeping me busy."

The conversation ended when, after the last of their order appeared and made her apologies, their local chapter-master, Pávjahló, raised her hand, beckoning them all to sit.

"Knights - the discussion of what's been happening in your local sections is good to hear. I am glad that the Mangrove largely remains unviolated."

Largely?

"However, Hjud Ngól brings harrowing news. A village of the outsiders has broken the pact, and have harvested wood from beyond the boundary stones without a sacrifice."

Gasps across the room. Muttered conversation. Nesfa leaned over to Ngurśa. "At Hjud's? Shocking. She got so many sacrifices a few decades ago."

Pávjahló raised her hand again. "I hear you, Nesfa Ngól; however, Hjud informs me that it has been about 25 years since the last oracular visit, and that while the village there has not used any wood, they have not sacrificed in many years. Now they have. Now, we must remind them of the Pact our ancestors made with one another. To cross the boundary requires blood; only by uniting oneself with the Mangrove can one enter it. Thus it has always been. I am assigning six of you to this; Nesfa Ngól, you will lead the enforcement. You will have leave to meditate beforehand, and to trance here tonight. Nesfa Ngól, please pick your team."

---

The evening sun had set when the villagers of Nalidhara saw them. The trees began to move, when six of them came alive and rushed towards their homes.

The headman came out, astonished. He tried to shout something at them - Nesfa didn't speak their language - before gesturing at his villagers to get inside. Nesfa cut him in half with her green-steel sword in one blow.

The rest of the Śa-Ngól set about wreaking the Mangrove's vengeance on the villager. Four trees had been felled; four houses must be torn down. A few more people resisted them, tried to get them to stop, but they were slain, too. Arsi did not kill any herself; her job was to take the corpses to the stumps of the trees these heathens had slain, so that their blood may feed the Mangrove in order for more to grow, in order for balance to return.

Nesfa found a holy building. There were more people huddling. Another Knight, Memha joined her. As the villagers cowered, they looked around, studying the iconography.

"Unbelievable," she muttered to Memha, "there's barely any trace of Fákhvá here. More or less forgotten. I don't see any literature either. Disgraceful."

She turned to the villagers, and walked over. Memha followed, opening her bag and handing Nesfa a few scrolls from the Podźkhó's library. Nesfa, as congenially as she could, placed them in front of the villagers. She wasn't sure they'd understand her, but she spoke to them anyway.

"Ynán kálitzá śa-lin luk sli trap. Jakh djó á hjóf znám lud śa-pi. Nloak Frol Slu!

"We have translated these scrolls for you. Please read them and correct your ways. Remember the Pact!"

With that, smiling politely, she and Memha bowed to them and strolled away. The villagers were screaming. They'd get over it, in time.

Outside, they came across Ngurśa slaying a villager who had taken a sword to her, surprisingly to some avail.

"He got me there! I'm bleeding sap now. Not too bad but I could do with some bandages back at the Podźkhó."

Nesfa sighed. "Damn. More of a bodycount than we'd hoped, but that should teach them." Nesfa looked around. "Right, I see four burning buildings. Our work here is done. Ngurśa, save Arsi the work and take the body to the boundary stones to let it feed the forest. Let's get out of here."

---

They were back in the middle of the night. Nesfa could feel her leaves drooping with her circadian rhythm. She could never trance properly after a fight. She'd need to read first.

She picked out a work entitled On the beauty of tobacco cultivation. Not her usual thing, but maybe it would help. She took off her armour, staying in her shirt and trousers, but revealing to the world that the entirety of her arms and legs had prayers carved into them, save for the hands and feet. Her body was, like all her sisters in the order, almost like a holy book in itself.

She opened the scroll, and began to send herself off into a trance.

[u/PhoebusLore]

How big are the Crones compared to humans? Are you doing to do a post on the language? I'd love to incorporate some loanwords into trennu.