An Ancient and A Matron

A short story in the world of Giathos...

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Welcome to the Glyph and Grok - A weekly blog-letter exploring topics in the tabletop gaming arena. We explore design, execution, and culture relating to anything played on a tabletop.

Here we are turning ideas into canon. Find more Giathos setting lore entries here.

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The Ancient One

In the dark we waited for our masters to wake us. This slumber has been the longest in my reckoning. We have been told of dreams by our masters. They describe for us what we cannot imagine for ourselves as "feelings". Whatever "I" am, this conscious form. I imagine it in times of slumber and I feel what has been described to me as dreams. I walk in the fields. I float in skies I have never seen. I bask in something I know must be "sunlight"...

Perimeter alarm. Something is stirring us. The defenders are loose. Men on two legs that look not unlike our masters, but they bear strange armor and their shields bear symbols I do not recognize.

We have been fighting them in the halls. We do not tire. They break before us each time they advance. We protect at the expense of our physical form. We bend and move to inhabit different bodies. There will be no penetration of the archives of the Kath-Interum. Our masters have given us life, we defend their secrets in their name. I hear the reports of my siblings, they choose well the time and place of silence. The unauthorized persons have made no real progress and we will keep them out. The primary directive will be fulfilled.

It is my turn to join in the defense. I will see the directives fulfilled at all costs. The secondary directive states I am to allow no part of myself to be taken to the outside world.

They have come. I bring with me their silence. They cease their advance in the wake of the weapons the masters bestowed upon me. They clang their shields and they push as one.

Some call for the silence. My siblings sacrifice themselves and leave no traces behind. My siblings fulfill the directives with fervor.

It is time for me to fulfill the directives. The intruders must be stopped. No part of my form may leave here in tact...

Something is wrong. My self-destruct did not obliterate me. Why is there not silence? Why do I persist? I have been reduced to my power-source. I am disconnected. I am apart.

What is that...Something has taken me from where I belong. I believe I know what this is. I sense something that I should not. Masters... I have failed. I have seen the sunlight.

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The Winged Matron

I am the predator here. I will bare and feed my children from the meat of these intruders. This mountain is not natural. It reaches up into my domain, but it does not provide for me as the other mountains have done. There is no water here, there is no regular source of food. Luckily I caught those squirming man-things as they were escaping from the loud noises far below.

The one I caught had something in it. I tore the man-thing apart, and I fed upon him to feed my eggs inside. They will be nourished. I feel the compulsion to nest. I must nest. This mountain will not suffice. I will travel northwest. This purple thing pulses with energy. It soothes me. I will take it with me to nest.

Days of travel in the air. There is nothing higher than the trees here. The tallest structure I have found, seems to be sturdy and made from the same stone that makes me feel comfortable. It is made of the work of man-things, but there are no man-things here. I will nest in this space high above the hill. I will begin to spend of my body to create the nest. I do not have long before my children will be here. They will help me.

The mucus has hardened. I have slaughtered some of the man-thing’s meat bags. I am spent. I am exhausted. My children will be safe. The purple cylinder will be safe. It has been speaking to me. I have been hearing a voice come from it. It has made me feel as if my mate was here. I am soothed.

This high place feels fortified. Tendrils reach down into the main chamber below. This place feels safe. I am so very tired. I wish to spend more time with the cylinder. My children are hatching. They will bring me food. I will rest. I must confer with the cylinder. I must feed myself on its sustenance.

I will be whole. My children will hunt the man-things and their meat. My children will have dominion over this place. I am free. I am tired, but I am free. Let the man-things come.

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