Profiles in Magic, Volume Four
Kir Dor'na'torna: Chosen by the Spirits
Heritage Monographs, the official press of the Moon Mage
Guild, is proud to present the fourth volume in the
Profiles in Magic series. The information within has been
researched carefully through personal interviews as well
as constant delving through the most ancient of books, and
finally compiled by a dedicated staff of scholars and
Guild representatives to provide the highest quality of
information for readers everywhere.
This volume details the unusual life of one of the
original signatories of the Lunar Accord, known by many
titles and names: Kir Dor'na'torna, a Shaman, a
Skindancer, a Bone Dancer. Through studying his life of
hardship and destitute beginnings, we trust that mages can
find the understanding to realize that even the humblest
and misdirected of souls can have a profound impact on the
Guild's destiny.
While known for his calm and introspective demeanor as
much as for his part representing the Skindancers with the
signing of the Accord, Shaman Kir Dor'na'torna was not
always blessed with the mind of a scholar. Details of his
family background are hazy at best, and only a handful of
rare utterances on Kir's part have ever been spoken. It
is generally surmised that his relatives abandoned him at
a young age - not an uncommon occurrence to the Nomads of
the Arid Steppe, as self-sufficiency is a valued trait in
that harsh tundra. Regardless of the status of his
initial familial structure, Kir was accepted by the
D'Reathor, one of the more powerful tribes that inhabited
the Steppe, as one of their own.
His standing within that tribe was anything but familial,
however. At this time in history, the tribes of the Arid
Steppe warred constantly and often, using their gift of
foresight in various attempts to better the other tribes.
Blood was shed on a daily basis as sons and fathers were
killed, herd animals stolen, and daughters and mothers
taken. This state of continual battle forged these Nomads
into a grim, battle-scarred people. It is unlikely that
Kir was unscathed by the violence, but there was more than
an outsider's axe as a source of strife in the young
Human's life.
As is common for the Nomads, the D'Reathor practiced
several types of vision-inducing rituals, some bizarre,
and others simply indulgent. Kir, against his will, was
introduced to many of the more severe rituals by the older
members of the tribe in a misguided attempt to make him a
better warrior. Struggling, Kir fought back regularly.
During one of the repeated attacks to torment the young
man, one of the elders was knocked into a bed of blazing
coals, and quickly consumed. Out of rage or vengeance,
the others tied Kir down and forced more than the usual
amount of vision-inducing intoxicants upon his body,
sealed him in a tent, and left him to be devoured by his
own hellish visions.
Five days passed before a changed Kir emerged from the
tattered tent. His eyes vacant and his mind apparently
gone, he fell into his new role as the tribe's local
idiot. Aside from the occasional prod and snide comment,
none bothered wasting time on the young fool. By winter,
however, the tribe did take note of him long enough to
exile him from the temporary camp, since no food could be
spent on someone unable to take up arms. Out wandered
Kir, alone and in danger of freezing to death in short
order.
Death did not come to young Kir during his banishment.
Instead, he returned a few months later, his posture tall
and proud, his face calm yet full of expression. In a
quick display, he disarmed no less than seven of the
tribe's greatest fighters as they tried to eject him once
more. Walking with purpose to the chieftain's tent, he
spoke, explaining what had occurred during his absence,
his words immortalized in the traditional storyteller
fashion.
"I walked among the ice, the stones, the trees. I stepped
beneath the darkened night sky filled with pinpoints of
starry light, and saw the sun rise like a god from the
horizon. Lacking food, I had only these sights to fill my
belly and my mind, and somehow I found sustenance in that
for weeks. There was a truth therein, and I could taste
it upon my lips like salt, but I could not speak it for I
did not know what it was that I was sensing."
"A vision arose before me on the night of the beginning of
the fifth week. A vision of skeletal beauty, so filled
with knowledge that but one head was not enough, and it
used two tongues to whisper words of truth in my awaiting
ears. The truth overwhelmed me. In some ways, I died
that eve, yet I rose again the next morning. I died, my
purposeless existence over. I rose again, my existence
whole, my mind complete with the beauty that surrounds
us."
"So I come to you, chosen by the spirits to speak as their
emissary."
As the tribe's members stood with Kir in that small tent,
taking in his words as though they stung like the burn of
the snow on naked skin, he looked upon their faces. As
the tale goes, handed down by followers of the Skindancer
Sect, Kir's face was filled with so much emotion that the
tribe was unable to resist the truth of his next
statement.
"We were not meant to unjustly war."
And with that, one of the warriors laid his spear upon the
ground before Kir. They were not all convinced so easily,
and the following weeks were spent with Kir as teacher and
the warriors and chieftain as students as he taught them
to see the natural beauty that surrounded them. A handful
refused to believe the man's simple teachings, and
eventually left. Once the D'Reathor were converted,
however, they begin the task of uniting the other tribes.
This was no small task considering the importance each
nomadic group placed on their separate identities. Years
of trials followed, but in the end, the Arid Steppe Nomads
were joined, with Shaman Kir their appointed leader.
When a messenger arrived from the far east to seek counsel
with the Shaman, few were surprised. Rumors and tales had
spread even there of Kir's wisdom and leadership, and Kir
slept only one night on his decision before leaving to
join this group calling themselves "Moon Mages." His
experience had taught him the strength of unity, and he
would at least join their company to discuss coalition.
The rest, as they say, is history.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Two: The Enduring of Peace
Time passed, and Kir's leadership and teachings became a
powerful force across the Arid Steppe. Even the Dwarves
who lived in the mountains nearby heard of his words,
though, being Dwarves, they were content to leave Kir's
Skindancers alone. Yet Kir was strangely unsatisfied. He
had learned and taught so much in his lifetime, but there
was something unfinished, something missing. Over the
course of sixty years, the Skindancers had gone from a
violent, warlike people to becoming a simple, mostly
peaceful group. Abandoned were the old ways of using a
fallen foe's bones to divine the future. Nearly forgotten
was the fact that their spears had once been turned on
each other rather than deer and elk. Kir pondered that
this, as distasteful as it may be, might be what was
missing.
Cautiously, he asked the handful of elders who still
remembered the old ways to bring out the divination bones
for consultation. They did as he asked, yet there were no
clear answers revealed from their usage. Thinking to
search another way, he requested the old bones be put back
in their secluded hiding spots once more, fearful that
the younger members would take too quickly to the old
violent means. To his surprise, one of the elders - the
same who'd first placed his spear before Kir's feet -
refused. Kir was even more stunned as the elder explained
why he denied his request.
"I remember all those years ago when I took this man's
head, Shaman. It was a long fight, and I nearly died that
day with him. He was a Windwalker, and I was a D'Reathor.
These days, those names mean nothing, for we are all one.
His death was but one of many in our violent past, and
without that violence, we would not have been able to
change. How does one change to a new state if the old
state never existed? We owe them their names, their
memories. We owe them remembrance. I will keep these
simple tools in my hand, and I will go out and teach my
granddaughter how to use them."
Kir could not argue the man's wisdom, but the fear of a
returning to the old violence plagued his dreams that
night. With little explanation, he left the next morning,
saying simply that "the spirits asked him to return, such
that they could ponder together." So ends the last
reliable account of Shaman Kir's existence, for he was
never seen again. Without his presence, peace did manage
to endure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Three: The Bone Dancers
Long years later, a man claiming to be Kir came forth from
the wilderness. His words were not the calm and well
spoken phrases of the previous Kir, but rather the
rantings of a lunatic. He spoke of finding the beauty of
death and bones, reveling in the idea that since bones
once held life, they embodied perfection. Some believe
that this Kir was a descendant of those who had fled the
first Kir's naturalistic teachings. He was accepted in
the traditional way of the Skindancers, mainly because the
name Kir still carried much respect.
This proved the start of a most strange series of events.
After the current chieftain met with a questionable end,
Bone Dancer Kir somehow managed to convince the elders to
allow the role of Skindancer leader fall upon his
shoulders. No records of this meeting are known to exist,
and few who still live today are willing to speak of it.
Nonetheless, Kir became leader.
Under his guidance, the Skindancers began to delve into
macabre rituals, and a few of the young warriors became
obsessed with violence after a night discussing philosophy
with this new Kir. Angered by what was occurring with her
peaceful people, Council Member Cherulisa D'Shari'sendal -
the then current Skindancer representative - returned to
the Arid Steppe. For several days and evenings, Cherulisa
and Kir spoke behind closed doors.
Upon their egress from the discussion tent, Kir flew into
a fit of rage. Proclaiming that Cherulisa had stolen his
leadership away from him, he gathered a handful of loyal
followers, stormed out of the camp, and was never seen
again on the Arid Steppe. Cherulisa, when asked about
this, only smiles and makes a cryptic comment regarding
"things learned from the Fortune's Path representatives."
Cherulisa later returned to Throne City to place her
resignation from the Council of Moon Mages, and is
currently residing in the Arid Steppe as Guildmistress
to make sure her people are aptly trained in the ways of
nature and foresight.
Kir's splinter group of followers is now generally
referred to as the Bone Dancers. Dedicated to Kir's
philosophies that all bones were sacredly beautiful, they
soon vanished into obscurity, the mark left on the
Skindancers nothing more than a simple schism in
opinions.
The Guild of Moon Mages places no belief in this second
Kir's statements, but it is an interesting footnote to the
life of the real Kir. With study, as all things require,
may this tale enlighten youthful Moon Mages for as long as
these pages remain intact - especially those who prefer to
follow the simple and shamanistic ways of the
Skindancers.
