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Haroun Lore

Drauga, Gauri, Haroun, Humans, Undead, Shadow: Units
Fri Jul 11, 2014 9:57 am

  • Description

    Like the wind itself fly the Haroun, desiring to touch everything, to be everywhere at once, unbound by the weight of the earth or the dictates of law. Yet their very love of independence, their very thirst for knowledge, has created of necessity certain rules that guide the Haroun. Though their society has often fractured over mere philosophical disputes, Haroun seldom war against Haroun. When such battle is inevitable, they have restrained themselves from the pillaging and ransacking so common to other mortal conflicts. Indeed, in their curiosity, in their restraint, in their love of knowledge, in their gift for controlling mana, the Haroun are quite like the Kohan. This is, perhaps, a virtue of their long lives, but perhaps also it comes from their historical veneration of the Immortals as fonts of wisdom and culture. The Haroun have always been fast allies of the Light and though they may not be the mightiest of warriors, the enemies of the Shadow will long be able to rely on their support.


    In youth they had moved across the great plains of the Sel Jermai with their airy freedom of the clouds themselves. No obstacle had stood insurmountable, and all the troubles that plagued other lands of Khaldun were as distant as the earth is to the sky. Then I had come, as one had come for me in my youth, leaving the harsh lands of the Waste and journeying to the distant plains. These Haroun, my own people, were as foreign to me as the Drauga. My values had been warped by my Guardianship. I could not, dared not, try to recapture the frivolity these children knew.

    The Jermaian elders knew why I had come and yielded their children to me. Seven times seven youths, beautiful and full of life, twenty-five female, twenty-four male. I made the fiftieth. We fifty marched back to the Waste, where I anointed them and introduced them to the secrets of the Guardians. To the ways of battle and the songs that awaken the wind and call down lighting. I taught them to dance beneath storms and run through the mist, to feel the stone beneath their feet and watch the moon above. All these rituals I gave them.

    And now my children lie dying.

    The Burning Ones spoke of a great darkness gathering over the world. Their foresight revealed only cataclysmic disaster for Khaldun. Then the Pool over which we were made Guardians began to churn. Its power to corrupt and to draw to it all manner of evil knows no bound. We now fight not only enemies from without, but also our own brothers, turned to the Shadow by the call of the Pool.

    This second Age is ending.

    My children and I had come to the Pool to destroy the creatures that were coming from its depths. Instead, we were routed. Now, the corpses of those who once ran in Sel Jermai make soldiers in the armies of our enemy, the Fallen Saadya Ahriman. The Burning Ones say that the Kohan will soon join the battle. That some have fallen to Ahriman’s sway and shall fight under his black banner. That others will hold true to the Light.

    It will be the first Great War, we are told. But not the last.
    All of that stands in the future. The present is filled only with my guilt, with the echoed remembrance of my children’s battle-cries and dying gasps. I had brought them here for a sacred mission, bestowed upon us at the beginning of time itself. So I thought. In truth, I brought them here to die.

    If they have found freedom in death’s land, then I shall find it there with them. The dawn comes, and with it, we survivors will try once more to take the Pool. May the Creator speed us to his side.
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