Ancestry: The Hakaan (Patreon)

Hey folks! Two ancestries' lore didn't make it into the packet, so you get it here! First, the HAKAAN, our "demi-giants." Tomorrow? THE TIME RAIDERS!

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Defending the Society’s flank, the Pillar stood alone against the Bloodstone Legion. The Arrow was awestruck and afraid. She was a different person in a fight.

“COME FORTH, SONS OF ORD!” The hakaan metamorph bellowed as Ajax’s dwarven legion advanced. “AND MEET A BETTER WOMAN THAN THEE!!”

Non-final work in progress art

Intro

In spite of their friendly, outgoing nature, the rare presence of a hakaan in human society is considered a harbinger. An omen of dark times.

Descended from a tribe of giants in upper Vanigar, the original Haka’an tribe made a bargain with Holkatja the Vanigar trickster god. They traded some of their gigantic size and strength for the ability to see the future.

But Holkatja betrayed them, and the only future they are allowed to see is the moment and nature of their own death. These visions are never of some mundane tragedy. No hakaan ever received a vision of dying from choking on a grape. The doomsight is always momentous. Always dramatic.

This Doomsight can happen at any moment. It does not come for all or even most hakaan, but when it comes, it is considered an act of overwhelming hubris to ignore it. Trying to escape the Doomsight means a painful, tragic death, and cursing your family to live with shame.

For this reason, the only hakaan the average human meets is one trying to fulfill their doom. The human superstition–that the arrival of one or more hakaan in human lands is a sign of great forces acting in the world, auspicious times–is literally true. In dark times, many hakaan experience the Doomsight and leave their communities to venture out into the mundane world, in search of their destiny.

Humans in Vanigar have their own word for this concept of a personal fate. “Wyrd.” Traditional hakaan sometimes refer to the Doomsight as Wyrdken.

On Hakaan

“You…you know when you’re going to die?”

The Pillar, dressed in her civilian clothing; a simple pleated dress cinched at the waist that left her bare arms free to work, dipped her hand in the pail of water. It immediately sprang to life, the water sizzled and danced as her fingers cooled. She pulled her hand out, shook off the water, and went back to sculpting the granite.

The hard, tough stone melded like clay under her fingers. Whatever she was doing, it generated enormous heat in her fingertips, hence the pails of water beside her. The Arrow couldn’t tell if this was her talent manifest, or something her people could do, or neither. As he watched, he realized he recognized the bust. It was the girl they rescued during the Society’s recent battle with the Academy. 

“Not exactly,” the Pillar said as she concentrated on her art. “Not when. More sort of….” She looked away from her sculpture and looked out the window, thinking. “How. Why. I am told there is a sense of…,” she looked at the young man, a teenager, only recently recruited to the Society. “Anticipation, eagerness when the time is nigh. So,” she took in a deep breath, which was an impressive sight to see in a 9 foot tall woman, and let it out, smiling at the young man. “Not anytime soon.” Her smile was like a sunrise.

Though he had lived with fear most of his young life, mortality was not something that plagued the Arrow’s mind. He had a hard time grasping it. “That must be…awful.”

“Oh no,” she went back to her work. “No it’s…I do not know how to say it in Caelian. It is a blessing. I have seen people die for no reason. Be taken from their loved ones without warning, without…without purpose. There are unjust deaths. They destroy families. Communities.

“But the doomsight only comes in time of great need. People forget Holkatya is also the goddess of luck, and those who beat luck. Under…underdogs, as you say. She gave more than she stole, I sometimes think.

“I do not know how long I have, no one does. But I know my death will have meaning. I know it, do you understand? I know it like I know my own name. Often I feel…” her great hands clenched and unclenched, as though she were trying to grasp something just out of reach. “I yearn for it. I want it to happen. What greater end can there be, than fulfilling one’s destiny?” She looked at the mostly-finished sculpture. “It gives everything I do a sense of purpose.” She went back to work.

“My people are a serene and peaceful lot. We do not seek glory like the folk of Vanigar. But, in battle sometimes, knowing I am getting closer to my wyrd, my destiny, I think I know how they feel. Something comes over me, some enormous sense of…of rightness.” She smiled again at the young man. “It scares my friends sometimes, I know.”

The Arrow had seen it, and enthusiastically agreed. “You’re not from the Barrow Hills,” he said.

The Pillar shook her head, “No, I do not wot of your hills. I am from the hills north of the Blue Cloud Mountains in far Vanigar.” She turned and looked down at the Arrow with some pride. “My people are descended from the original Haka’an tribe.” She went back to work. “Though I am sure the Barrow Men, as you call them, are a fine people. We’re all related, you see.”

“Is that why you joined the Society?”

“Oh yes,” the Pillar said. “I had only left home a fortnight previous when Memory came to Vanigar to recruit me. I had a sense my wyrd lay in some distant land, but I did not know the world was so big.”

“Did she look like herself?” the Arrow asked, smiling. Enjoying a moment of shared experience with the giant woman.

The Pillar chuckled, and the Arrow’s chest vibrated with the force of it. “No, she looked like an agéd wise woman of Vanigar. I think only in fabled Alloy could The Memory of a Sunset at Dawn walk the streets without ‘scaring the horses,’ as they say.”

“Alloy?”

The Pillar looked at the Arrow out of the corner of her eye. “You’ll see,” she said with some glee.

“You were following your vision, you said.”

“Yes, my wyrd as the Vanigair call it.”

“What did you see?”

“Oh,” she smiled and blushed, “it is not meet to say.”

“It’s bad luck?”

“Mmmm…you would say maybe. I think…rude is closer. But the doomsight is rarely clear in any event. It is full of symbolism and metaphor. My father is the shaa'er of our tribe. The skald as the Vanigair call it. He thought the symbolism was a kind of protection. So that I might know with certainty the meaning, but be unable to clearly convey it to others.” She nodded. “I think he is right.”

“Is it like a dream? Or a nightmare?” The Arrow wasn’t sure how much it was ok to ask.

“No it was not a dream, it was a thing that happened.” She turned to face the Arrow and leaned her massive arms on her legs. “I know not how it is for other doomseekers, but this is how it was for me. I was collecting flecks of jasper, a…a mineral we add to our food. I was picking flakes of rock up off the ground when I saw a bee that could not fly. And a horde of ants all around, one with wings. In that moment, that was all that I could see. It was like the rest of the world fell away and the bee and the ants filled my sight. Though the bee was surrounded, and the ants seemed to go on forever, I could see the ants were afraid. There were dozens of dead ants on the ground.”

“What did you do?”

“Mm?” The Pillar was lost for a moment, remembering the moment.

“What happened next?”

The Pillar shrugged, giant muscles in her shoulders rippling. “That was the end of my vision. At that moment, I knew I had to leave home.”

“Wow.”

“Indeed. Its meaning is clear to me. I stand alone against the endless horde. In my heart, they are Ajax’s War Dogs. I think I know this, but…” She shrugged again.

“But how come you’re alone? Where am I? Where’s the Society?”

“Who knows?” she smiled. “When the vision comes upon you it is all you can see. Maybe it is like a painting. And I am the painter. And if only I could turn my head a little ways to the left or right, I would see my friends there, fighting with me. I like to think mine is a great sacrifice, made so my friends can escape some overwhelming evil. It is a common theme among the fated, I am told.”

“What about the bee? What happened to the bee?”

“Oh, feeling sorry for it, I placed my finger gently on the ground and you must see,” she held up her pinky, “even my little finger is like a mighty wall for the bee. I sought only to protect it from the ants, but it quickly scrambled onto my finger and, after I stood up, it cleaned itself and flew away.”

“It could fly!” the Arrow said, suddenly full of youthful exuberance. “It could fly the entire time! It was just waiting…for someone else to come along.”

The Arrow stared, wide-eyed at the Pillar. Even before the young man spoke, the hakaan talent’s eyes widened in realization. “My vision…” she said.

“Wasn’t over!” the Arrow said, his joy impossible to hide.