The tale of Rythis, told by S'orn in human style, abridged.
Hear, and I will tell you the tale of Rythis, slayer of great evils, one of the soul-called. Born in the deep sea, first of the clutch, he sprang from his shell with his war cry on his tongue. As he grew, he was swifter than the quickest shark and strong as the Geremar (another race of sea dragon, much bigger, now extinct except one). His spear, formed from the heat of the water's fury, never missed.
In those days the great rays were not so strong as they are now. Instead of that mortal enemy, the sea itself was wilder, more hostile. We who are born in the depths of the ridges where the land grows know the fury of the ocean when it moves, and it moved more often then, creating tough creatures that threatened our clans. Few could match them in strength, in speed, and in fury, and the crown of them all was Rythis.
When young, Rythis won every race, every contest of strength, and every contest of skill with the spear. It was not long before no other would race him or test him anymore. Envy made him unwelcome, and fear, for no one could match him. Rythis set out, then, to test himself against the ocean. Many were the trials he faced.
In his travels, Rythis found a great den of strange creatures, covered in thick scales and with long, sharp claws. When he approached, they sprang forth, and he, great warrior and soul-called, slew them without forethought. These, he discovered, were a lost clan of G'Ryth, orphaned from our kind by accident and changed by the far ocean's ways. Their monstrous looks did not show their true intent when they ran out to greet him. Grieved, the warrior went deeper into the ocean, refusing to cast his spear. His frame grew lean from lack of meat, and he was but a shadow of himself when he came across the Geremar. It (for the Geremar is both male and female) looked down on the poor, lost wanderer and saw the truth. It counseled Rythis to seek out the hold of the lost clan of the G'Ryth and give himself to them. It was then that Rythis dared to ask why there is only one Geremar. It told him the truth- in the past, there were many Geremar, male and female, great and small. Each Geremar had a special power. Before there was death, the Geremar discovered that if they kill and eat other Geremar, they gain the power of that Geremar. So they warred and ate each other, until only one was left. Invincible, immortal, the Geremar now lives alone in the depths of the ocean, punishment for its race's folly. Thinking on this, Rythis returned to the place where he slew the strange G'Ryth and found his way back to their hold from which they had been lost.
The strange hold came forth and greeted him, for all G'Ryth are friends to each other. When he confessed his deed, there was horror. Their oldest seer looked on Rythis and saw the truth. He brought Rythis into the hold despite his deeds. Their king set him to working in the gardens of the hold, where Rythis had to leave behind his great strength or he would hurt the delicate plants as he tended them. For many years Rythis worked, going from young to the prime of his life. The maidens of the hold were intrigued by the fierce G'Ryth who had to tend the plants so gently, and soon one of them dared to work by his side and speak of clutches. So Rythis and the maiden, L'slis, mated and there was a fine clutch of eggs. But before the eggs hatched, the king set Rythis free, giving him back his strength, and Rythis set out again. L'slis would not follow him; she was too gentle a creature to leave the hold. However, a young warrior of the hold, Silthe, came out after the old warrior when he left. She, too, was soul-called. She, too, wished to see more of the ocean. Rythis recommended she stay home, for the trials of the ocean are great. Silthe proposed to race him. They drew off the marks and swam. Great was the race! The very currents could not go faster. And, in the end, neither was faster than the other. Having found an equal, Rythis found a measure of joy. They traveled together, destroying those that threatened their kind, like the greatest of the toothed whale, the Itha, and the first of the great rays that threaten our kind, the Xach. The first of that kind was so terrible a foe that only by smashing it with a great rock did the two warriors defeat it. That is why all the rays are flat.
After many such journeys and many such battles, Rythis felt the need to return to his hold. A warrior may journey, but he still belongs to his clan. Silthe parted ways with him then, for she still had many journeys to go on before she would look for a home, and the home she would have would not be his. When Rythis returned, his clutchmates could not even recognize him, for he had been gone long and grown in size and age. They challenged him to prove who he was, so he wrestled all of them to the ground and all of the hold's young warriors, as well. After that, who could deny him? They made him their warleader, to lead them in battle, and honored him much. As for Rythis' thoughts, he served his hold well and lead them well against the sharks and monsters that threatened them, but between battles he sat out on the black ridges and dreamed of Silthe. It was while he was dreaming that one of the Xach's offspring slew him from behind and began the long and bloody war between our two races.
So ends the tale of Rythis. So ends the telling.
Do not copy or quote the above material
without the consent of the owner of this page.