The Tale of Gan'jin the World Maker

((First of my legendary tales about the times before the Night elves. An ancient culture should have stories from then, and this is one such story. Influenced by the story of the gith, and George Orwell's Nineteen Eight-four.))

Time immemorial there was a tribe of trolls whose name is lost to history. Upon the jewel studded desert plains of Silithus they laboured for the Qiraji conquerors, and forged weapons of stone and cities of glass for their slavers.
The tribe of slaves knew not freedom, and in not knowing freedom, they knew not their loa or the spirits of their ancestors.

A scion of this tribe was the troll labourer Gan’jin. With his fellows he carved the deserts, and knew not his past or his future, for slaves did not have words to speak or stories to tell; life was work, and death was to be food for their conqueror-slave masters. Without words to give their minds voice, there were no thoughts.

Gan’jin was a hardworking slave, and an obedient servant. He worked the sands into glass with his bare hands, and cut stone into weapons upon the crystalline hills. But one day, as he gathered sand, he uncovered a troll beneath the dunes. It was dead, but it was not food for the overlords. For the first time in the life of any of his tribe, he had a question. And from that question his mind expanded. As it did, he realized that to answer his question, he needed to name the world and all things in it.

He named the sands and the sky, the mountains and the sea. He named his father and his mother, his sister and his brother. He named rock and stone, sand and dune. He named blood and bone and flesh, life and death. He named the dead troll before him, and the name he gave that troll was ‘Mind’.

He looked upon Mind, and asked how he had died without being food, he saw a piece of stone had marred the flesh, and pierced the skull of Mind, but the flesh had not marked the stone.

When he got to the answer of his mystery, his world changed: One could die in other ways than the masters desired. Not all was under their control.

And the Qiraji masters were made of flesh. Flesh gave way to stone. Thus, stone could conquer the conquerors.

Over years, he continued to labour, but taught his fellow trolls in secret. He gave them words, and they gave him their thoughts. Their overlords continued to take them away to die and be flesh for their feasts, and continued to swing the whip of work upon them.

Second in importance only to words, was his gift of the strength of stone. Armed with both a mind and a weapon, the plentiful trolls rose to free themselves of the carapaced lords. Through countless battles, they travelled to the east.

Upon the path, Gan’jin’s world expanded from that one question still, until his senses filled with the presence of a spirit. A bat rested thus upon his shoulder. Like him, it created the world within its mind, fore without thought we are blind to the world.

We know the bat as Hir’eek, and Gan’jin’s tribe brought it to us, along with our language and tradition of thought. Honour his name.

Everyone loves your writing Roj, you're doing wonders for the guilds lore department, looking forward to more of your works.

*Gonkgasm*