Rites & legendary gear

A year after the first ziggurat was built in Urduk, the Vicious God sent a blight on men once again. His mighty offspring, a vrakhir named Manesh, descended upon the world in a storm of blood-red lightning bolts. And only Asser, the Priest-King of Urduk, had the courage to face the demon. He fought bravely, but was crushed. Manesh ripped out Asser's heart, dismembered him and sent pieces of his body to all corners of the world. And then he became the King of Urduk. Asser's wife, High Priestess Naneka, wept for three moons. Her tears made the River flood the fields for the second time that year. But then, Sheema visited Naneka in her dream and told her what she had to do. Naneka travelled to the mountains and pleaded to the wind spirits for help. They answered. They helped her find and reassemble Asser's body, and also gave her a tooth stolen from Manesh. Naneka used it and with the power of her spells, she brought Asser back to life. He was too weak to fight Manesh, but strong enough to lie with Naneka. He died again afterwards, but soon Naneka bore a son, whom she bestowed with his father's name. Many years later young Asser, a grown man at that point, took up his father's sword and slayed Manesh in a duel on top of the Urduk ziggurat. Though the wait was long, peace was finally restored and lasted for centuries to come.

Once, Sheema fell in love with a champion named Edru, who guarded his tribe from the vrakhiri. She took him to the Underworld, so she would have him by her side. But Edru's sons Edug and Elil would not allow it. So they travelled to the Underworld to get their father back. They faced many foes, but also Andag, the god of war, whom at first they took for a mountain. This amused Andag and he promised to help them. Together, they tracked Sheema down, entered her palace in the land of the dead and demanded that she returned their father. They didn't know that he who has stepped into the Underworld can never return. Only Sheema herself has the power to pass back and forth through the veil. But the goddess admired their courage and perseverance. She offered to break the rule. 'I won't release Edru,' she said 'but you may return. However not as men, but as the sun and the moon, so that you can watch over your tribe and protect them.' And so Edug and Elil became what we call the golden and silver discs. And they will live in the heavens for all eternity.

In the old days there was no sun and the world was dark. Armies led by the vrakhiri fought violent wars against men, burned their villages and cities, and killed them as they wished. In one of these villages there lived a man named Utnapishtim. One night, he had a vision so terrifying he awoke screaming. He told no one what he'd seen, for he knew they would not believe him. But he set about building a boat, and continued for ninety days and ninety nights. On the ninety-first day, it began to rain. And it rained and rained, until all the villagers flocked round Utnapishtim and begged him to let them onto his boat. When he did, a miracle occurred. Although the boat was small, there was enough room on it for all villagers and their livestock. Soon the village was flooded, right before the vrakhiri reached it. The demons died under the waves, but Utnapishtim's boat endured. After another ninety days and ninety nights, the flood was over. Utnapishtim built a new village, which later became the sacred city of Hatum. He never told anyone who had sent him the vision of the flood, but the largest temple in Hatum has always been devoted to Sheema, the cunning weaver of webs.

The old King of Urduk was dying. He had three sons, all of them brave warriors, all fit to be their father's heir. So the king ordered all three of them to go into the world and be tested by fate. Two older sons went to the west, where there were other great cities and many opportunities for adventures. But the youngest one, Uktash, travelled to the east, where a scorched and lifeless land lay. His brothers laughed at him and were sure they would never see him again, but Uktash did not change his mind. He had many adventures in the scorched land and sheer luck saved him from certain death more than once. And then he met Nassur, the silver serpent-god. 'Do you not fear me?' Nassur asked, surprised. 'I do,' Uktash nodded, 'but I have never seen anything more beautiful than your silver skin. So I set my fear aside.' But Nassur was not impressed by this answer. He devoured Uktash, slithered down among the rocks and there he shed his silver skin. Years later, Uktash's brothers, one of whom was already the King of Urduk, travelled to the east in search of Uktash. They did not find him, but stumbled upon a rich silver vein that had once been Nassur's skin. They started mining it, and this discovery made Urduk even richer and even safer from the vrakhiri.

Midway through creating the world, Andag, Nassur, and Sheema grew tired. At first, they wanted to give up, but then Nassur and Andag spit onto the Earth, and from their saliva the first humans were formed. They provided the gods with a great deal of help, but were weak and died easily. Then another one of the gods, the one whose name must not be spoken, spilled his blood onto the Earth, and thus the first vrakhir was born. He was strong and long-lived and of great use, but soon defied all the gods but the one who had created him, so he was cast out. But Sheema did not cease trying. She used the vrakhir’s fang and weaved her web around it for days, until she created the first Pilgrim of the Dawn. He was a man, but also a vrakhir, and so he was a perfect balance. And all gods were content, apart from the one whose name must not be spoken, and whose creation, the vrakhir, had been rejected. And to this day, his hatred towards humans and all the other gods has not diminished.

Each of the three burial sites I explored was different when it came to funeral practices, but they all had one thing in common. All three bodies were decorated with distinctive bird-shaped masks. Why was that so? And why birds of all things? It might have been a way to scare off potential graverobbers. That was my first thought, as I must confess that when I saw the first masked body, my heart almost gave up on me. But there's another explanation. I recall a myth about gods turning their loyal dead champions into nightingales – so maybe that was the reasoning behind the masks. Maybe the community wished for their champions's souls to become free and tried to make it easier for them. Two potential reasons – one spiritual, one purely pragmatic. Which one is correct? Will I ever know?