We leave this ahistorical and eternal sounding creation myth to venture, in our attempt to place the pieces of our puzzle into a coherent picture, to a time which is definitively in history. It is, perhaps, farther back in time than most extant human records, but it is not out of the reach of many Olven historians whom we will borrow liberally from. Let us first begin with a simplifying concept: the Flan are separable into two distinct groups.
Although the philosophers believe that all humans, or at least those of similar ethnic groups, sprang from one source, it is immediately apparent that the Flan were either created in two separate groups or suffered a divorce of some sort in times long forgotten. We have begun our discussion (the preceding chapter) with the Flan who survive to this day, whose tradition is a living tradition; we will call them the Northfolk. Our focus now turns to a tradition whose inventors are long gone and whose tradition is both alive and in part a matter for historians; we will call them the Westfolk. While linguistically similar, the two groups otherwise differ immensely.
The Westfolk had very little in the way of consistent communications with other races and we are left by and large with impressions instead of thorough historical documents. They were something of a curiosity to the dwarves who remarked in one tome about their "lazy" construction techniques and a volume by one gnome remarked at the absurdity of Flan subsistence farming. Elven traveller-historian Qinifar (fl. -1520 CY) remarked:
There is little doubt that these are an odd people. They care little for carousing or the wonderful enjoyment of life. Even dwarves love fun, even if they do try to hide it, but these Sheldomar humans hardly have a drop of drink anywhere. They smile a lot and seem kind, but their philosophy is hard like the oerth they till. Perhaps if I died as young as these curiosities, my heart would turn to stone too!
Indeed Qinifar, best noted for being the first to claim to have visited four different continents on our planet (although this is dubious), left us an entire volume of information well worth reading concerning the Flan entitled Primitive Plains People?. His year among the Flan made him quite fond of their ways of life and it was his educated thesis that they were not at all primitive. While he could have chosen any number of hypotheses, he chose to judge the civility (or lack thereof) of the Flan, and really human beings, on the basis that they had developed a philosophy. This may sound esoteric or absurd, but this was Qinifar's currency in the world and we shall see that it relates very directly to our topic.
Some historians have doubted Qinifar's honesty in reporting events and rightly so since his four hundred works, of which all but twelve survive, frequently contradict one another. In our case, the timeline of what actually happened may be in doubt but we may find him to be an extraordinary source of information. Let us take, for example, his first impression of the Western Flan when he stumbles upon them in one of their typical farming hamlets:
We were strolling through the plains, attempting to divine where the best location for a vineyard would be when we saw the small village, huts and all. I for one was thankful, as it would give me a welcome respite from listening to Hokdor's [a dwarf] soliloquoy concerning the virtues of malt liquor and the utter uselessness of our extended journey. We strolled directly into town where we received a friendly greeting from an elderly man dressed in unrefined animal skins. However inelegant his chemise, Hokdor was very much taken with his good posture and firm handshake; I thought his height [egirlu, lit. altitude] made his personage appear awkward. I am a discerning man and I must say this: their housing was completely inadequate and was obviously meant to be rebuilt after the annual monsoon rains; whatever the usefulness they lacked art and their inexpert construction caused Hokdor such indigestion that he barely ate for month and slept under the stars for fear of the roofs collapsing in on him.
When corroborating this with other works, we can see just how much invaluable information is contained therein. Although property rights, in contrast to their northern brethren, were central to the division of land and labor the actual structures were visibly flimsy (though this may have been a misperception), and were meant to be destroyed in the heavy monsoon rains which still seasonally penetrate into the Sheldomar Valley today. Their manner of dress was functional and made of animal skins, but further reading reveals that they were master leather workers and kept large herds of animals in fields close to the village. A survey of the book reveals that males were, again unlike their northern cousins of this same time period, by and large the empowered gender. We shall see why this is momentarily.
We now turn our attention to what truly makes the tradition of the Westfolk unique. Qinifar will give us our first taste of the book so worthy of study.
I found the culture permeated through with religion. It was only shortly after our arrival that the head priest, an attractively aged man, clapped us on the back and welcomed us to their little settlement, the Raoi Aourii (Rao's Little Hut; in fact, when I encountered other such settlements, I found their names similarly lacking in creativity, all of which had something to do with this Rao). When, over a sort of hot beverage involving a root which he said cured footache from long journeys, I mentioned I had an interest in philosophy, he promptly brought out a huge tome with the help of two assistants. It was called the Raoi Uoepa (Book of Peace) and consisted of no less than two-thousand pages.
In modern times, Raoi Uoepa is translated as the Book of Rao. It contains what is essentially the history of the universe, Oerth, and the Flan people according to the Westfolk religious tradition and makes for a fascinating read. The Book of Rao was, before the eventual assimilation of the western Flan, a living tradition and every five years the head priests would convene on the shores of the Azure Sea on the first of the Flan year to discuss what new histories should be added. At one time, the tome was four-thousand pages long and there were said to exist only fourteen copies of the entire book. Sadly, despite the efforts of scholars to combine the fragments which survive, only an eighth of those still exist.
The book's central figure is our Mystery Man, Z!uero Aini, literally, the Master of Thought. Today this is but an honorific title for the god we worship as Rao. The mystery lies in filling in the puzzle pieces (pages) which time has lost through enigmatic divinations and intelligent inquiry. The book begins with a passage describing Rao's eternal appearance. Rather than quote from it myself, I will rely on Qinifar's humorous account upon reading it with the assistance of magic:
[A]fter Hokbar recovered from having the edge of the book strike his large toe, we sat down and took in its first page. I tell no lies, good reader, when I say that it nearly caused heart failure [lit. heart freezing]. For its master character, so-called supreme of the universe and creator of all things, had none other than the darkest skin and white hair, and one of his his names was Drow! Good thing Hokbar is a better linguist than I, for he clarified that it was indeed Rao; my health was again saved by my mead-loving friend...
Rao is portrayed as a peaceful deity and when the tome begins, there are already creatures roaming the already created Oerth, as we read on the tenth page:
The Master of Thought [Z!uero Aini] decided that it was a pity that the creatures of Oerth lacked races which could bring harmony and structure to the world. He called a meeting of the Souls of Existence, of which he was the master-creator, and they decided to bring conscience to the living solids. To have structure or harmony, one must understand it.
What a remarkable contrast to the Northfolk! We have not only a pre-existing universe and planet, but the Souls of Existence, which are named at various intervals throughout the book. Their names are, for the most part, unfamiliar to us, but it has been pointed out that one, Soreob, is almost certainly Boccob with whom he crafts a number of magical artifacts. Qinifar makes similar speculation (although he was almost certainly wrong) that another was Corellan Larethian. They seem autonomous on the whole, but report their deeds back to Rao regularly.
The patriarchal monotheism is established on the forty-first page. Since Rao is a male, and master of all, then those who serve him are likewise to emulate him. The first step is to have a theocratic governance of the individual communities with a patriarch at the head. The patriarch must have reached a sufficient age for his hair to have become gray.
Sages have deduced that the portion of laws (the laws, not stories make up the better part of the book) governing property and ownership began on the lost page twenty (they are the first rules) and conclude at the top of page forty-one. These are no small pages and the system left no question as to what one of the guiding principles of society was.
Whereas the Northfolk made a clear distinction between the mortal and the divine, the worshippers of Rao did not. Flan who served their god well (usually head priests) were brought up to Rao's Realm in some distant plane (up is technically inaccurate here) and some, it is hinted, achieved some sort of demi-godhood. Arguments concerning this are too scholarly for this work, but it is useful to note how very much involved Rao's thoughts are with the Flan people unlike Beory of the north.
Of course, the strongest contrast with the Northfolk is the mere existence of the book itself. Whereas the tradition of the Northfolk (which also accounts for that of their eastern brethren) was utterly inconsistent in writing and the number of alphabets is as numerous as the tribes who left us writings at all, the Westfolk had one alphabet. Oral tradition had nothing to do with their culture, and everything deemed important enough to record ended up in the Book of Rao.
For the most part, the pages prior to the ones we are preparing to discuss in the next chapter do not concern us. Much can be learned regarding the methods of subsistence farming they used, the larger property settlement issue, the bucolic lifestyle they led, and other such details, but this is far more important to the sages than to the green student of theology. Suffice it to say that all laws, events, and the like are suffused with three themes: that all decisions are meditated upon philosophically by nearly every character who appears, that peace as opposed to violent conflict is encouraged, except when absolutely necessary, and formal logic and reasoning (B!alpa) is the final arbiter of all disputes.
What does concern us, and deeply so, is that the Principles of the previous chapter do appear throughout and Rao is just as bound by them as Beory, although this is hinted at in a far more oblique manner. Another primary concern is that the traditions could not have begun separately, although how they became divorced is, as I have said, a matter of speculation, nor could they remain separated forever. We read, in an inconspicuous passage on page two-thousand four-hundred twenty-two, the first mention of our dearest Oerth Mother:
Rao contemplated bringing a vast flood upon those foul traitors who had stolen the lands of the Z!ouei tribe. When he had reached the conclusion that this was the best solution, Soul Beory came to appeal the decision. "You shall not."
Not only is this not an appeal, it leads us directly to the next chapter.