And Yu-Shan Wept
Far in the West, beyond the lands of my birth, the Cloud Dancers play in the skies of the Boarder Marches – a pristine azure untouched and unmolested by god or spirit. I saw one once as a young girl, swept into creation upon a Wyld Fog, I watched as bolts of lightning and cracks of thunder stuck the beast and its clear blood spilled like steaming rain. I believe I wept that day – it was a beautiful creature. Since studying at the feet of ‘The Marked’ I have come to learn many mysteries and have found I have the tools and the mind to uncover many more. So it came that I delved into the myths, legends and truths of the wyld beast I saw over a decade ago.
They have never been sighted outside of the West, the other Directions too dry for their get. Their gossamer baleen combing through the tress of cloud with a lovers touch – caught in the bristles a wealth of minute invisible life. Their bones are hollow as a birds and in place of the dense oils and fats of our pedestrian whales, the Cloud Dancer is largely hollow. There is so little left when rot takes hold that near to no skeletal remains exist within Creation. Such harmless plodding beasts – that the gods of air strike them down with such zealous rage only speaks to the degradations of the systems underpinning Creation. Change is needed, humanity, the gods, all of it has become banal and decrepit. There is much these beasts might offer the West, as poor as it is, if such hide-bound traditions were allowed to pass.