The Rise of the Empire
Murdered by her lover,
Left to rot in pieces,
Given power by the moons,
She rises again as many.
The Rise of the Empire, also known as the Foxen Origin, is the tale of a nurlak man from Heck’ne who killed his wolven lover in a desperate attempt to save his homeland, and how the foxen race rose from the woman’s remains.
The story of the warrior Gagoo’galornga and the maiden Klict is considered culturally significant to both the foxen race and the Har’py religion. Believed by many to be historical fact, this tale has strongly affected the laws of both the Empire and the Heck’ne. It also is a significant part of Canis La’Can’s culture due to the Immortal Queen Distro being one of Klict’s blessed who is believed to have had audiences with the maiden, herself.
Previously, before Queen Distro’s rule, it was believed that Gagoo’galornga was a vagrant who tried to take over the Heck’ne by force and was subsequently banished. It was said that Gagoo’galornga had sought out and slain a powerful dragon and returned with its magic-imbued scales to use as a weapon. This belief is still held by some, including those in False Har’py cults, but the majority of the world no longer considers it an accurate interpretation of historical fact.
Since Queen Distro’s claim of speaking to the gods, opinions of the maiden Klict and warrior Gagoo’galornga have had a significant cultural shift. Queen Distro remains adamant that Gagoo’galornga was not evil; he was simply a confused and misled man who was attempting to save his homeland from forces he had no control over. She has also stated that the spirits of the warrior and the maiden have found peace together in the afterlife, and that Klict holds no resentment towards Gagoo’galornga for her death.
This cultural shift heavily affected the laws of the Heck’ne; where previously Gagoo’galornga’s actions were used to justify the systematic oppression of nurlak who lived in the wasteland, an effort has now been made to prevent discrimination against nurlak living in Heck’ne.
The Foxen Origin
Many generations ago, when the known world was newly born and the Heck’ne had no borders, there was a Har’py man known as Gagoo’galornga.
Though the man was crude and brusque, he was a powerful warrior of honour who fought great beasts and protected his homeland with fierce determination. Born a nurlak, Gagoo’galornga had struggled to find his place in the Heck’ne wasteland amongst the ever-growing population of harpies. He had fought hard to become the man he was and was known as one of the most powerful warriors of his time. He was loyal to the Heck’ne’s law without failure, and never hesitated to risk his life to protect his fellow wastelanders.
He was a hero to many; never straying from his duties as a high-ranking Har’py and becoming a revered man whom people would seek out to aid them.... But this well-earned reverence would prove the beginning of his downfall.
The ruling mala’kala, Har’kark, feared Gagoo’galornga’s influence over the the Har’py people and resented the respect that was shown to the warrior. Har’kark knew that Gagoo’galornga was one of the most powerful Har’pies ever born to the world, and he feared one day that his people would stray from his throne and turn to the warrior for leadership instead.
And so, Har’kark began to plot; he would use the warrior’s loyalty against him in a way that would both destroy his reputation and end his life.
It was a hot, cloudless day when Har’kark summoned the loyal warrior to his throne. The sun beat down so hot it cracked the dirt and made the already-low rivers run completely dry.
The heat burnt unbearably against skin, but still Gagoo’galornga took his place below the mala’kala’s throne and knelt low. The scorching sun belt down against his neck and back as he waited for his leader’s orders.
Har’kark watched the man for a long, long while, before finally speaking:
“This drought that plagues our land has cost countless lives,” he began. “And as my greatest warrior, I turn to you to save those that are left. To the north of our Holy Lands, where the swamps cut a line through the land to separate Heck’ne from the rest of the Rendi, a great beast has taken up and made its home. This creature, a flying monster of draconic ancestry, has stolen the clouds from our skies to wet its swamps and keep its territory flooded. Until this dragon is dead, no rain shall fall. So, my loyal warrior, I order you: Slay the dragon and bring back its skin to me. Do not return until you have succeeded. Go!”
And go, Gagoo’galornga did.
He was unaware of the mala’kala’s plot; unaware that his leader expected him to die at the talons of the beast he had been sent after. Gagoo’galornga, like any Har’py, trusted his leader to speak the true word of their goddess Zen’efay. The idea of Har’kark doing anything else was unthinkable to the warrior.
So he questioned nothing, and did as he was ordered.
The loyal Har’py warrior travelled for two months. Only resting and hunting during the night, all of his time was spent travelling to the swamps where the draconic beast resided. From sunrise to sunset, he walked; the sun beating down viciously against his back.
Knowing he had been given an order by their mala’kala, the people of Heck’ne let him travel unbothered by their simple woes that they may have sought him out to aid before. Those who knew him offered him rest in comfortable hovels, and gave him clean water and food to make his journey easier.
He accepted the support of his fellow wastelanders with no hesitation or shame; for it was all returned favours for his past acts of honour. And it was known well, in the warrior’s time, that in a land where the dirt itself would act as your enemy, there was no greater way to build strength than by supporting your allies.
And so, while Gagoo’galornga’s days were spent in exhaustive and unending travel in the burning hot sun, his nights were filled with the sharing of meals, telling of stories, and the laughter of friends.
It was early morning when he laid eyes on the footprints of the beast. A harpy child, no older than four passing eclipses, woke him from his sleep and guided him to where they had been playing their sunrise games to show him large clawed tracks that had not been imprinted in the ground the day before.
They were not deep, so it was to be assumed, then, that the creature was not heavy. And though the prints were large, they were not as had been exaggerated in the stories he had heard; so it was to be assumed, by Gagoo’galornga, that the creature could be no bigger than the largest of the spiders that burrowed in the wasteland’s earth.
It would not be an easy kill. Not on his own. That was clear. Gagoo’galornga knew the risks of hunting a creature so large. He knew that it might kill him. But he had hunted beasts larger than himself many times, and he did not wish to risk the lives of the people whom had offered him their hospitality.... And so the nurlak simply thanked the child and made on his way; following the tracks to the swamp.
He had never seen the Northern end of the wastes, with its dirty black water and dark green shrubbery. The copse of trees that he cautiously entered unnerved his senses. He likened it, in his mind, to the darkness of a ga’oa pit, but the knowledge that it was all alive and —in its own way— breathing and feeling of the world made his skin crawl in a way that it had never done before.
Shadows hung across his face, small shafts of light breaking through the canopy to speckle his dark skin as he hesitantly leapt from foothold to foothold; navigating the tangled logs and rocks and roots that rose from the dark abyss of water.
Hoarded water, Gagoo’galornga recalled his mala’kala’s accusation. Taken from stolen clouds.
It was hard to believe so much water was here, in front of his eyes, when the rest of the wastes were in such drought.
This world he navigated was so different to any he had ever known that it almost made him want to turn and return home; accept a new title as a coward and a failure....
But, then, he recalled the faces of those he had met in his journey. Tired eyes and dry lips, with rasping voices that unwillingly exposed their bodies’ desperation for the return of water.
And with that thought of his people’s need, Gagoo’galornga pressed on into the dark.
It was almost nightfall when he found the cave.
Large and looming, with sharp jutting rocks that hung like teeth at its entrance and cracks that resembled eyes, the nurlak was so sure he had found a mouth to Underfor that he cried out; falling backwards into the mud of the mire he tread.
Fear gripped every fibre of his being as the sun fell between the rising stone horns atop the horrid tunnel to the world beyond and every crevice in its stony skin lit up with a violent red as if streaked with spatters of blood.
He fumbled his way backwards in the mud, all four of his arms desperate to find a grip as he tried to escape the groaning sound of the wind that whipped the tunnel.
And then a great shadow appeared in the mouth’s already-darkened entrance.
Within the minute, the beast was standing above him. Its deep green scales appeared almost black in the red light of the setting sun, and its wings tucked against its sides in a calm, reserved way; the way a harpy of noble status might keep their own wings tucked. Its long, sharp horns glinted and its tail swept from one side to the other as it slowly turned its head down to watch him.
It looked down upon him for a long moment before huffing a great snort of air that mussed up his hair and stung his skin with smokey heat.
And then it took to the air.
Spreading its wings and leaping from the muddy ground to weave through the tapestry of branches above, it left Gagoo’galornga laying in the mud; breathless and trembling.
Despite his fear, Gagoo’galornga did not flee. Once his breath had been caught and his nerves had been steeled, the man rose to his feet. He trembled as he stood, his legs weak and unsteady with shock.
He stumbled to a hidden alcove in the stone, stowing himself away from sight of the sky, and waited with baited breath as the sky went dark and the stars pin-pricked their way through the shadows of the canopy above.
He did not rest.
He did not sleep.
He barely dared to breath.
Instead, he sharpened his spear and readied himself for the fight that was to come.
The early morning sun was just peeking through the branches of the thick, leafy trees when Gagoo’galornga heard the steady beating of powerful leather wings.
From the sky swooped the dragon, landing with surprising grace in the unsteady mud. It adjusted its wings, tucking them back against its sides with that reserved, regal nature as it raised its chin and let out a long breath that resembled the calmness of royalty about to address a crowd.
It took a step forward, slow and graceful, and then cut its eyes to the side; glancing to the marks in the mud that had been left by Gagoo’galornga’s fall.
A sigh escaped the creature; one that made the hair on the back of Gagoo’galornga’s neck stand on end.
It was smart enough to remember him.
The nurlak swallowed and watched as the dragon made its way into the cave.
And, then, ignoring every instinct that screamed at him to leave; he followed the dragon into it’s lair.
He had to be brave.
For his honour. For his mala’kala.
For his people.
As his eyes adjusted to the dimming light and the entrance tunnel opened into a large cavern, Gagoo’galorgna realised with horror that the dragon was gone. He froze in place, his heart pounding violently, as his gaze scanned the cave and he saw that the den looked more like that of a person, than of an animal.
Shelves of books lined the walls, with a large table and a single chair placed in its centre. Gold and gems were stacked precariously on the table, with crates of food beside it. Reeds and vines were laid out to dry, and a large-but-empty pot sat at the far end of the cave.
There was nowhere for the dragon to have gone, and Gagoo’galornga felt his chest heave with fear as he spun around, desperate to understand what he could not explain.
And, then, a shadow; moving behind a shelf. Could it be the dragon? It seemed too small. But what else could it be?
Gagoo’galornga took a deep breath to stay his fear, and then let it out as a battle cry; leaping over the table.
He raised his spear and prepared to strike the dragon down. But to his surprise the shadow spoke to him; begging for mercy.
The Har’py couldn’t believe his ears!
It was not a dragon that he had found, but a wolven woman dressed in fine silks and glittering gems. She wore a gold tiara signifying her wealth and, had the Har’py been able to read, he would have discovered the maiden’s name engraved in the beautiful jewellery: Klict Canis. The banished heir to the La’Can throne.
“Please!” begged the maiden. “Don’t hurt me! I beg of you, let me be!”
Hesitation was a rare thing to be found in a Har’py warrior; but Gagoo’galornga let himself pause as the woman begged for her life.
Then he swallowed, touching the tip of his spear under Klict’s chin and lifting her eyes to his.
He demanded, in a voice more confident than he felt, to know where the dragon had gone. But there was no answer.
Klict simply cried; tears escaping her eyes to run down her cheeks as she shook in fear.
So Gagoo’galornga struck her and ordered her to answer... but instead of speaking, her sobbing became a wail and the Har’py warrior didn’t know what to do to make her stop.
Two months.
Gagoo’galornga remained the cave for two long, confusing months as he waited for the dragon to reappear.
He did not understand what had happened to it; a creature so large and powerful simply vanishing into nothing seemed impossible. And, yet, it had happened. Seemingly in front of his very eyes.
Frustration at its peak, the warrior had tried to send Klict away. If she could not answer his questions then he had no use for her, and a kunya’mup he would not make of himself by keeping her prisoner.... But, to his surprise, the maiden did not leave.
“Where would I go?” she had asked the warrior, earnestly. “I cannot return to my homeland; I am banished for the treason of refusing marriage. If I were to return I would either be put to death or given to a man who hates me. I would suffer abuse unimaginable, and be a forced mother of children I could never love. Despite your disdain for my silence, at least you let my body be my own.”
He had not asked her twice to leave, after hearing her story. Instead he offered her a gentle hand to take, and his companionship.
If the universe was to make them both miserable, at least they might be miserable together.
Gagoo’galornga had lost count of the days he spent waiting. The seasons changed, and the end of the year grew nearer and nearer, and as it did he and the maiden grew closer and closer.
She taught the warrior to read. And he taught her to hunt. And at night, they would lay together in the moss and watch the glittering light beetles signal for mates. And they found their fingers would entwine as they sat in the treetops together, looking at the sky to try and guess the weather that was to come when the night would end.
It was a soft, gentle feeling that made the warrior want to bury his face in the maiden’s skin and breathe her scent in like mist on a warm morning. But there was hesitation in the wolven’s love. A quiet reservation, tinged at the edges with anxiety that she refused to speak on.
Still, Gagoo’galornga was patient with her; he had never felt love like this, before, and he did not want to lose it.
The maiden stood in the swampy water in front of the cave she called home, and Gagoo’galornga stared at her, waiting for her to show him her secret.
It was clear she was scared. She trembled from head to toe, her lower lip quivering as tears welled in her eyes and her ears pressed back.
Gagoo’galornga took her hand and gently squeezed her fingers, but she pulled away with a shaky breath and a shake of her head.
“Klict, you don’t have to—“
“Yes. I must, my love. You deserve to know what I am.”
He almost argued. But he could not bring himself to do so; she was his love, and to say she was wrong was an insult he could not bare on his tongue. So he stood back and watched as she took a deep breath.
Klict let the breath out and, slowly, her body began to change.
Her face grew out, and her skin became scaly, and her fur hardened into spines along her tail.
It was not an easy transformation, for she hadn’t used the spell in a long time, but the three moons shone brightly overhead and with the help of their magic her body shifted and distorted and grew to twice its size; wings sprouting from her back as she shook herself down and turned her gaze to her lover.
He stood with his mouth agape, unable to believe what he had just witnessed.
Klict was the dragon he had been sent to kill.
Gagoo’galornga turned pale and stumbled. He couldn’t kill his own partner, could he? But he had a duty to the Heck’ne. The rain had to come again or his people would die.
It was the reason he was here.
He had given his word to his mala’kala.
He couldn’t go against his word, could he?
He couldn’t disobey his mala’kala; he was the living the voice of his goddess ancestor. To deny the mala’kala was to deny Zen’efay, herself!
What was he to do?
Slowly, Klict stepped towards the nurlak and gently put the tip of her muzzle on his cheek.
His breathing calmed as his hands raised up to her chin, and he cradled her head softly.
“You have been good to me,” she said into his ear. “Please, say that your mind is changed. Say that you will abandon your quest.”
“I can’t,” he breathed back, his voice shaking as he spoke. “I must finish my mission. I must follow my orders.”
“Must you?”
“I must,” he said, his eyes filling with tears as he took her scaled cheeks in his hands and swallowed the horrid lump that threatened to burst from his throat. “The mala’kala ordered me to slay the dragon.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“I don’t want to kill you,” he said. “But if I don’t, my soul will wander forever. Unable to face the spirits of those I left suffering. I must do as I have promised my people.”
“I don’t want to die,” she repeated, a long, lonely line of a tear curving down to her jaw.
“I don’t want to kill you,’ he answered. “But I must.... You understand that I must.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“I love you,” he whispered. “Please know that I love you.”
“I know. And I will always love you, too,” she told him. “If I must die —if you must kill me— then please, my love, All I ask that let me die with my real face.”
A sob came from the warrior; a sound that had never escaped him before, and he pressed a kiss into Klict’s snout.
He felt her change in his hands. Her scales smoothed to skin, and her horns shrunk to hair, and her eyes —her beautiful brown eyes— returned to stare deeply into his own.
His hands still clasp her cheeks tight, unwilling to let her go as tears rolled down both their cheeks and they whispered their last goodbyes.
Klict nodded and, with all the courage he could muster, Gagoo’galornga yanked her neck sideways and caught her in his arms as she fell.
The feeling of Gagoo’galornga’s heart wrenching itself into pieces inside of his chest was overwhelming as he cradled Klict’s lifeless body.
“Oh, Zen’efay,” he whispered into his lover’s hair. “Why? Why did you test me so? What have I done to earn your anger?”
The goddess did not answer him.
He took Klict apart with care, treating her body as he would treat a sabre’s: like a most beautiful and prized pelt being pulled from its meat for tanning. Once her skin was no longer on her flesh, he traced her scales with his knife, carving them out with precision despite his trembling hands.
When he was finished he gently lay what was left of Klict’s body in the swampy water and said a short prayer, begging Zen’efay to look after her spirit and forgive her for causing the drought.
However she had done it, he knew it could not have been her intention. She would never cause harm to his people. Not deliberately.
He did not want to leave her. But he knew he had to return to his homeland. And so, after carefully rolling Klict’s scaled hide into a bundle to place under his arm, he rose to his feet and refused to look back.
A mistake; for if he had, he would have seen the blood in the water begin to glow pink, silver, and blue.
Had it been any other night, what was left of Klict’s body would have sunk to the bottom of the swamp to feed the trees... but it was not just any night. It was the night of the triple moon.
The magic that had helped the maiden transform into the dragon now coursed through her damaged body and it began to change, giving life to the foxen men. They were smaller than the maiden had been, for each man had been formed by only a single drop of her blood, and the rest of them was magic and mud.
Born from the swamp with knowledge of Har’kark’s lies bestowed upon them by the gods, they carried with them a fury unmatched by any people before them.
They would end Har’kark’s reign, no matter what it took.
Gagoo’galornga returned to the Heck’ne with a heavy heart and presented the scales to his mala’kala.
Har’kark was shocked that Gagoo’galornga had returned after so long away. The man was sure the warrior had been killed months ago when he first set out to find the dragon. To see him now was startling. To see him successful was unbelievable.
The mala’kala was, however, forced to keep his word. He turned the scales into a cloak for the nurlak to mark his newfound honours, and spoke a prayer to the man that he did not truly wish to come true.
Gagoo’galornga accepted the prayer before, with a heavy heart, retreating to the furthest reaches of the Heck’ne to live in loneliness.
Har’kark knew then that he had won. Gagoo’galornga’s spirit was clearly broken, and as he hid himself away it was obvious that he would be of no help to the Heck’ne people.... The mala’kala’s position was secured.
Or, he thought it was.
Until the war started.
The anger of the foxen men was overwhelming; as were their numbers.
They attacked the Har’pies and demanded that the mala’kala be presented to them. The Har’pies refused to give up their ruler and fought back in the thousands, only to find that a single foxen man had the power of seven Har’pies combined.
They demanded that Har’kark be presented to them. But the Har’pies, loyal to ways, continued to fight and defend him as he hid away in cowardice.
Ten years passed and the triple moon came again, boosting the foxen men’s powers beyond anything the Har’pies had seen before.
Gagoo’galornga’d had enough of the fighting. He was tired of watching his people be mercilessly slain and knew he had to do something to stop the fighting.
So, in a desperate attempt to protect his people, Gagoo’galornga offered his own life in return for peace. All he asked of the foxen men was an explanation. Why had they attacked? Why did they want to kill his mala’kala?
When he heard it, he couldn’t believe it. Had these men really be born from the dragon he had killed all those years ago?
Gagoo’galornga hung his head in shame and removed the cloak of scales from his back. He willingly returned it to the men and begged their forgiveness.
“My dearest love,” a familiar voice whispered in his ear. “There is nothing to forgive.”
The scaled cloak was torn apart, every scale separated to be laid out in the magic of the moonlight.
They shimmered with life, sparking with power unseen by mortal eyes. And they began to grow; rising as the women of the foxen empire.
The stumbled in their newly-born bodies, sapience slowly taking to their minds as their souls formed, before they were filled with the same rage that the men had felt.
A unified shriek escaped the women and they leapt to the skies; their bodies changing and deforming into draconic creatures who let out spinning trails of fire from their maws and swooped their enemies with vengeful fury.
Gagoo’galornga watched in awe as the dragons reigned terror down on the Heck’ne, and he knew, then, that there was only one way to stop the madness:
Har’kark had to die.
It was three days after his plea for peace that Gagoo’galornga held his mala’kala’s severed head high in the sky, claiming victory for his people; though they did not understand it as such at the time.
A cheer went up from the foxen army, and a cry of horror and betrayal echoed from the Har’py people.
Then a spear pierced Gagoo’galornga’s heart and a clap of thunder sounded as the rain began to fall.