Whom The Telling Changed
Aaron A. Reed
conversation cover art epic gender-neutral protagonist gilgamesh hypertext-like moral choice Mythology puzzleless sexuality choice Spring Thing 2005 Spring Thing Game Spring Thing Winner storytelling Xyzzy Awards 2005 XYZZY Best Individual NPC
The people had always gathered on moonless nights to hear the stories, since the time of their ancestors' ancestors. The heat of the fire and the glow in the storyteller's eyes made the past present, and the path to the future clear. The power in the telling was immense, subtle, divine. What man would dare subvert it?
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"He found the knowledge at the heart of the
universe;
Returned, and cut his story into stone..."



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Y.
I am your eyes and hands within the story. Direct me with commands such as EXAMINE THE BAG, GO OUTSIDE, LISTEN, or FIGHT HIM. Single word shorthand like FIGHT or BAG will often suffice. Some single words will be highlighted to bring them to your attention. Type them to
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The people have always gathered on moonless nights to hear the telling, since the time of your ancestors' ancestors. The heat of the fire and the glow in the storyteller's eyes make the past present, and the path to the future clear. Tonight the stars are bright, but the minds of your people are troubled. May the words of the telling guide your way.

The walls of your tent glow yellow in the lamplight, your simple possessions casting flickering shadows on the wall. A straw bed; some skins of water, oil, and wine; a small, guttering lamp--it is simple, but it is enough.

The symbol of your occupation hangs from the central support of the tent.
You examine the symbol
Which do you mean, the medicine bag or the copper dagger?
Medicine bag
A small leather medicine pouch hangs from a long strap, bulging with curative herbs.
You look at the dagger
This copper dagger is as long as your forearm, with a round pommel and hardened leather grip.
You take the bag
The leather strap feels cool and familiar in your hands as you take your medicine bag down from its place.
You take the dagger
You carefully take your lover's weapon down from the wall and study it thoughtfully for a moment.
About yourself
You are a healer, nothing more. These have always been your people, and you have always been theirs.

You are carrying your lover's copper dagger, your medicine bag and the storyteller's feathered circlet.
You look at the circlet
Countless weeks were spent collecting the delicate feathers and weaving them together to make this circlet. It is light as air in your hands, and seems to glow in the lamplight.

Lowered voices speak softly from somewhere outside your tent.
You listen
The lamp crackles softly as it burns. Somewhere distant is the sound of muffled voices.
You look at the bed
A simple bed of furs and straw.
You examine the lamp
This small oil lamp is made from cured hide and a reed wick. You made many of these from the sheepskins you traded the merchants for last moon. The small flame glows brightly, leaving dancing black streaks in your eyes if you look straight at it.
You take the water
Water for your hands, oil for your lamp, wine for your thirst. You need none of them now, but knowing they are there brings comfort.
Exit
You step outside into the warm night air.

It has been night for many hours, but the air is still warm, and the stars are a million brilliant fires above you. Nearby are the vague outlines of your neighbors' tents, but on this moonless night only the distant glow of the fire pit seems truly alive.

In the darkness a few feet away, Sihan and Saiph talk quietly in strained tones.

As you approach, your enemy grows silent. Your love turns to you with a look of relief and reaches out a hand.
You examine Saiph
Saiph has his father's tall strength and the bearing of a leader. His grace and bold demeanor draw others to him, though few know of his quiet and gentle side underneath.
You examine Sihan
Sihan is beautiful; you have always thought so, as have many others. Her long black hair seems to swallow up her face in the dark of night.
You take the saiph's hand
You clasp Saiph's strong hand and turn to Sihan with a frown.

"What business have you here?" you ask her coldly.

Sihan tosses her hair and fixes her sharp gaze on you. "I came to see if Saiph is truly a man of action and not only of words," she says levelly. "But I see that, like you, he is counted among the cowards and the weaklings. I have no more to say." She turns and vanishes into the darkness without a sound.
You talk to Saiph
"I care for you more than you know," you say, kissing Saiph on the cheek.

Saiph frowns. "Her heart clamors for war with these NEWCOMERS," your lover says, "and was upset to find I do not share her views. We shall see if your ENEMY has better luck at the TELLING." He looks up to the stars, and adds, "It is a good NIGHT for it."
Newcomers
"Have you heard the news?" he asks. "Young Ada found traces of a camp less than an hour's walk from here, and more than half a day from their FIRES in the valley. SIHAN and her friends are already sharpening their spears and preparing for war," he says darkly.
Enemy
"Sihan has been asking all the warriors to support her plan to attack the newcomers," your love says. "She is convinced they are planning to murder us all in our beds at any moment. She is so sure of herself; how nice it must be to have such conviction in one's own superiority."
Telling
"It is almost time," your love says seriously. "I wonder, what story will we hear tonight? The people are buzzing about the newcomers; perhaps the teller's story will be about them."

The time is not right to speak about that.
Fires
"The moon has waxed and grown small again since they arrived," Saiph murmurs, holding you tightly. "Why don't they come to us? Why do they hide when we send our emissaries? They must know the unrest they're causing in us."
NIGHT
Saiph points up at the night sky. "See how bright the stars are," he says, "as if the gods themselves gather round our fire to hear the teller's story."

Saiph glances towards the fire pit and takes his dagger from you, sliding it into its familiar place at his waist. "Let us join the gathering and hear the story," your love says lightly, and turns to the FIRE at the center of the village.
You look around
It has been night for many hours, but the air is still warm, and the stars are a million brilliant fires above you. Nearby are the vague outlines of your neighbors' tents, but on this moonless night only the distant glow of the fire pit seems truly alive.

Your beloved gazes up at the stars.
Fire
You walk to the firepit with Saiph, and friends and neighbors greet you with a nod or quiet word.

Always the fire pit is the center of the village, and always the people gather there. Faint smells of tonight's great feast still linger, but the fire now smolders low, only a shadow of its roaring fierceness at sunset.

Isi and Nabu stand near the fire, along with a growing crowd. Saiph stands near your side.
You look at Isi
Isi's long black hair is white now, and her soft skin is loose and wrinkled, but her eyes have grown sharper with each passing year. Your father's sister sees more than most; the truth behind deceit and the sadness behind smiles. Her eyes sparkle as they meet yours, and she gives you a tiny nod.
You examine Nabu
Your father's brother Nabu has never been good with a spear, but there is a warrior somewhere inside him that the wise respect more than the strongest man in the village. He is short and stern; quiet, but clever and collected. He is old, now, but his spirit is as strong as ever.
You look at the crowd
They have always been your people since you were a child, and each of their faces are known to you. Some are friends, some are relatives, some you know little and some you know better than you might wish. But they are all your people.

Saiph places a hand on your shoulder. "Go on, my love," he says softly. "Give the circlet of office to the STORYTELLER. It is time."
Storyteller
"The storyteller awaits," Saiph says. "The telling cannot begin until the teller's circlet has been gifted."
You wear the circlet
No; you are not the storyteller.
You give the circlet to Isi
You approach your aunt Isi and hand the circlet to the white-haired old woman. She takes it delicately, eyeing the craftsmanship, and then looks up at you and smiles warmly. Carefully, she lifts it up to her old head--and now before you is no longer your father's sister, but the storyteller... a role she has taken every new moon for many years.
You listen
A bat circles above the fire for a moment, then swoops away.

Sihan approaches the far side of the fire and greets some friends warmly.
You talk to Sihan
"Sihan," you call across the fire. "Can we not hear the story as friends?"

Sihan snorts. "That is unlikely," she says, "unless you have come to your senses and accepted the need for defense." Sihan turns away with contempt and laughs with her friends, but you catch a guarded glance thrown your way a moment later.

Saiph kisses your cheek. "May the story bring you what you seek," he whispers, then slips into the crowd. Your beloved has always liked to hear the stories by himself.
You listen
A bat circles above the fire for a moment, then swoops away.

The murmurings of the people die away as the storyteller rises to her feet and raises two bony hands.
You listen
It is strangely quiet around the fire.

The storyteller shouts, "In this time of darkness the people gather for the telling. Will the people hear?"
Y.
You call out your response along with many others.

The crowd cries out with one voice, "The people are ready." The teller bows humbly, accepting the people's blessing, then straightens with the hint of a smile.

"Tonight," she says, "we shall hear an old, old story, from days long ago when great cities and mighty kings ruled this land. May you find in the story that which you seek."
You listen
A bat circles above the fire for a moment, then swoops away.

The storyteller lifts her hands in invocation. "Our story begins," she says quietly, "in the far-off city of URUK. Uruk of the broad streets, Uruk of the mighty WALLS. Can you see them, gleaming in the desert heat?"

The teller gestures into the night, and in your mind the walls come alive, shimmering in the desert air.

"Come," she continues, "cross the ancient threshold, walk the streets and orchards and markets. Walk the streets and climb the great stone steps to the TEMPLE. Climb the steps and find the box of burnished copper. Find the box and undo the lock and draw out the great TABLET of deep blue stone. Draw out the tablet and read of Uruk's king, Uruk's pride, Uruk's greatest hero. Hear of the trials of GILGAMESH."
Gilgamest
[Things to try: LOOK | LOOK AT | GO | TALK TO | GREET | ATTACK | TAKE | TOUCH | HEAL | LISTEN | PRAISE | MOCK | STORY | UNDO | or an EMPHASIZED word. For more detailed instructions, type INFO]
Temple
"The great temple of Inanna: what did it look like?" you say.

"Mighty and tall and grand and proud," the teller replies, "so fine that Inanna herself dwelt there instead of in her heavenly palace. Inanna, goddess of warfare, goddess of lust, dwelt often in URUK herself."

Sihan's eyes stare deeply at you. You return her stare and for a moment a flicker of some vanishing emotion touches her face.
Temple
It is no longer the right time to make that part of the story.

Sihan smiles broadly. "Ah, good!" she says, "a story of my ancestor Gilgamesh. There, there was a true hero to INSPIRE the people in troubled times."

Some in the crowd murmur in excitement, but older faces look as if they QUESTION Sihan's claim of lineage.
Question
You snort and raise your voice. "So it is Gilgamesh you descend from now, is it Sihan?" you say derisively. "Last moon it was Sargon of Akkad, was it not?"

A few near you snicker as Sihan flushes furiously, then she turns away from you with cold disdain.

The teller continues. "MIGHTY was Gilgamesh, a lord among lords. Mighty is he who both leads the way and guards the rear. Mighty is he who both crashes like a wave and shelters the weak. Gilgamesh was tall, strong, bearded, a roaring bull among his people. ARURU, mother of the Earth, gave him his form, and ADAD the Storm gave him courage, and SHAMASH the Sun gave him beauty--but," the teller's piercing eyes fixate on the crowd, "he was still a MAN, nonetheless."
Aruru
"I would hear more of Aruru," you say.

"Lady Aruru," the teller sighs, "Lady of the Gods, Lady of the Foothills, Mother of the Earth, made Gilgamesh as she made the first man long eons ago. She formed an image of Gilgamesh in her mind, took up her clay, and kneaded it, shaped it into Gilgamesh's form. More MIGHTY she made him than a normal man: taller, broader, and stronger."
Adad
Sihan is speaking before you can react.

"How awesome to have such divinity in one's creation," Sihan says. "The people of Uruk were blessed indeed to have such a king to lead them."

"And they knew it," says the teller with a twinkle in her eye, "even if they sometimes wished for a leader who provoked awe less frequently."

A current of energy runs through a few in the crowd, who mutter affirmation with somber faces. Saiph scowls darkly across the flames.
Adad
"Adad, god of storms, blessed mighty Gilgamesh?" you ask.

"He breathed lightning into the body of Gilgamesh," the teller says powerfully, "Adad of the tempest and the rain. He gave Gilgamesh the spark of courage and the fire of charisma."

The telling continues. "With his friend and companion ENKIDU," the storyteller says, "Gilgamesh ruled URUK with a young and prideful heart. But he saw the DEAD and dying in the streets of Uruk, and his mind was TROUBLED."
Enkidu
"Let us hear more of Gilgamesh's friend Enkidu," you say.

"Enkidu the wild man, MADE by the gods to tame unruly Gilgamesh," says the teller, a smile lighting her face. "He lived with the animals in the wild lands till he came to URUK to CHALLENGE Gilgamesh. But their battle UNITED them, and instead of enemies they became closer than friends. Inseparable were Gilgamesh and Enkidu; together they faced all foes and fought all battles."
United
Your mouth is already open to respond when Sihan's voice rises above the circle.

"Mighty Enkidu was also made by the gods?" Sihan's voice calls from across the circle.

"By Aruru," the storyteller says sagely, "By Aruru the Earth mother. The people of Uruk beseeched her to soothe wild Gilgamesh, who day after day came to the young men's homes, fighting and sparring in search of an equal, and night after night came to the young women's beds. The people of Uruk called on Aruru for help, and Enkidu was pinched from Aruru's clay and cast into the wilderness, as strong and mighty as Gilgamesh himself."

"How wise the gods are," Sihan says, "to send such magnificent heroes to protect their people."

Low muttering comes from across the circle; it seems this has struck a chord with a few.
United
"It was battle that united Enkidu and Gilgamesh in friendship, was it not?" you say musingly.

"It is often the way," the teller says, "that two foes may only find kinship through the bitterest battles. But perhaps," she adds humbly, "this is only the way in stories."

The storyteller continues. "One night," she says, "as Gilgamesh knelt in prayer, SHAMASH, god of the sun, came down to whisper in his ear. Shamash WHISPERED to Gilgamesh of a far off place called the Cedar Forest, where dwelt the demon HUMBABA. Shamash whispered that he who could defeat Humbaba would gain fame greater than any man. He who could chop down the tallest CEDAR and defeat Humbaba the guardian would gain everlasting fame. He would burn in the minds of men forever. He would never be forgotten. And the heart of Gilgamesh became RESTLESS."
Whispered
"Storyteller," you call out, "did you say that SHAMASH, god of the sun, whispered these words to Gilgamesh?"

"I did." says the teller.

"And why would so mighty a god whisper such a thing?" you ask, turning to the people. "Was he afraid another god would hear? Did Shamash really have the glory of Gilgamesh in mind, or did he hope to use Uruk's king for purposes of his own?"

A wave of muttering sweeps over the crowd, but no one comes forward to answer your question.
Restless
Before you can speak, Sihan steps forward.

"You said King Gilgamesh was restless when he heard Shamash's call," Sihan says loudly. "And of course he was! What king would not seize a chance for glory, to prove his strength and power? A leader is trebled in stature when admired by the people."
Cedar
"What magic was there in the Cedar Forest that made it special?" you ask.

"Uruk was a land like ours," the teller answers, "where the tree is scarce and the wood is poor. Cedarwood is strong, and beautiful, and pleasant to see and smell, and in those days was valued as gold. In the Cedar Forest far, far away, the cedar trees are so thick you could not see a man a hundred paces away; and so tall you could not see the sky."
Restless
Doubtless the heart of Gilgamesh stirred at a chance for glory; but was this Humbaba a VALID opponent?
Humbaba
"Humbaba the demon?" you ask. "Why was he so feared?"

"Humbaba the awful, he of many stories," the teller says. "His breath is a firestorm; his voice is the floodwaters; his jaws are death itself. Horrible to look at is the demon Humbaba, and the few who saw him and survived could not describe his face."

The story moves on. "The heart of Gilgamesh burned with the words of SHAMASH," says the teller. "Gilgamesh sought out his friend Enkidu and said to him: 'You came from the wild. My friend, you came from the wild and you know the secret paths of animals. Do you know the way to the Cedar Forest?'

"Enkidu SIGHED and his heart grew heavy," says the teller, and then seems to become young and strong as the gruff guise of Enkidu comes over her. "'Yes, I know the way to the Cedar Forest, but it is long and lonely. And what awaits you at its end but the demon Humbaba? The lord of all gods, mighty Enlil, has set him there to GUARD the Cedar Forest. What man or god could DEFEAT him, my brother?'"
Valid
The time is not right to weave that into the story.

"Subtle is the art of the storyteller," Sihan says with a smile. "Do you see why Gilgamesh is the leader and Enkidu only a follower? He hesitates in the face of danger; when courage is called for, he backs away. It is Gilgamesh whose bravery will be remembered and loved."

People murmur in agreement and nod. The storyteller's eyes sparkle in the firelight, inscrutable.
Sighed
The story has moved on; there are other things to say.

"Shamash himself came down from the realm of the gods to tell Gilgamesh of this?" asks a weatherbeaten farmer. "Why don't I have such luck?" A few of his neighbors chuckle.
Defeat
If Enkidu wonders whether even a god could triumph, then the fight must be truly HOPELESS--but surely, if any mortal could ever have TRIUMPHED at such a task, it was Gilgamesh?
Triumphed
"What better task for Gilgamesh to take on?" you wonder aloud. "If he succeeds, his people will love him and follow him all the more; and if he fails, his name will live on in death as one who showed no fear."

"As it has," the teller says, "though which of those outcomes found Gilgamesh has not yet been told."

The telling continues. "GILGAMESH looked at Enkidu with disapproving eyes," continues the teller, who then seems to grow tall and strong. "Is this the brave Enkidu I know?" she asks in the voice of the king. "Is this Enkidu who fought with the wild beasts and once challenged King Gilgamesh himself? Have you traded COURAGE for COWARDICE? Our days are few, and chances for glory far between. Do you not wish to burn forever in the minds of men?"

The teller becomes Enkidu again, and seems to consider the words of Gilgamesh. "'You have set your mind, I see. You will make this QUEST no matter what your friend ENKIDU counsels. Since that is your road, I will go with you. I will guide you on the hidden paths; I will find for you the hidden water; I will help you on your quest for glory. Enkidu will go with you.'"
Courage
"I would say rather that Enkidu was strong, not cowardly," you say, "to stand against such a man as Gilgamesh. What courage to raise his voice against so mighty and stalwart a man."
Enkidu
You consider Enkidu's response for a moment. Some might call him WEAK for giving in so easily to Gilgamesh... but others would call him a true FRIEND for standing by even though he did not agree.
Friend
"Such is true loyalty," you say, "to stand by a friend and companion no matter what your own thoughts are."

"But truer still," calls Saiph unexpectedly, "is the friend who stays true to his own beliefs." Your lover smiles mischievously and fades back into the crowd.
Gilgamesh
Is Gilgamesh RIGHT to set off on this quest for personal glory? Should he rather stay and help the PEOPLE of Uruk?
People
"A strange king is Gilgamesh," you say loudly. "He is troubled by the sight of his people, sick and dying, so he leaves them to go on a long quest to distant lands. Would a better king not have stayed behind to help them?"

"What help could he have given them?" asks Sihan. "Gilgamesh was not a healer, but a fighter; a warrior. He could best help his people by inspiring them; though I do not expect you to understand." She gives you a tiny, humorless smile.

The story continues. "Gilgamesh rejoiced," the teller says, "and summoned the blacksmiths to forge mighty WEAPONS for the companions. He summoned the blacksmiths and summoned the servants to prepare food and supplies. He summoned the servants and summoned the priestesses to make generous SACRIFICES, to ask the gods for good fortune."

"When all was ready, Gilgamesh and Enkidu passed through the seven gates of Uruk and set off into the desert. The people watched them go," she says softly, "the people of Uruk in SILENCE watched them go."
SILENCE
Sihan is speaking before you can react.

"How SOLEMN the folk of Uruk must have been," says Sihan, "to recognize the seriousness of such a moment, and not PROTEST like fearful children."

Voices mutter in agreement; for a fair number, this point has touched home.
Protest
"And why should they not protest?" you respond. "Gilgamesh and Enkidu are leaving on a long and dangerous road, and the people of Uruk have little to gain from their leader's self-centered quest."

A voice somewhere behind you calls, "It is true!" and a few nod their heads in agreement.
Story
This is a story about a healer in the village who was in love with a strong warrior man, Saiph. On the night of the telling, when the healer's aunt Isi became the teller, their enemy Sihan tried her best to turn the people towards needless war with the outsiders. The healer spoke against this reckless path, but the people heard the words of Sihan more clearly.
Info
[I am your eyes and hands within the story. Direct me with commands such as EXAMINE THE BAG, GO OUTSIDE, LISTEN, or FIGHT HIM. Single word shorthand like FIGHT or BAG will often suffice. Some single words will be HIGHLIGHTED to bring them to your attention. Type them to shape the story to your will; some of the possible choices will be seen in the header bar above. Time only advances when you give a command or type LISTEN, which it is sometimes wise to do.

Other useful commands include REPEAT, to remember what was recently said; STORY to see the choices you have made; INVENTORY to see what you are holding; WAIT to let the time pass; UNDO to take back your last turn; and GREET, MOCK, PRAISE, TALK TO or ASK ABOUT to interact with characters.

More information about this story is available by typing ABOUT.]
You repeat
The story continues. "Gilgamesh rejoiced," the teller says, "and summoned the blacksmiths to forge mighty WEAPONS for the companions. He summoned the blacksmiths and summoned the servants to prepare food and supplies. He summoned the servants and summoned the priestesses to make generous SACRIFICES, to ask the gods for good fortune."

"When all was ready, Gilgamesh and Enkidu passed through the seven gates of Uruk and set off into the desert. The people watched them go," she says softly, "the people of Uruk in silence watched them go."
Sacrifices
"What were the sacrifices Gilgamesh made to the gods?" you ask.

"They were many," the teller responds, "and befitting of such a strong king; three fattened oxen and twelve fattened sheep; four golden bowls of honey and five silver bowls of butter. The incense was lit and the prayers were sung; the priestesses sang the prayers while the stars turned above."

"Hot were the sands of the desert," continues the teller, "hot were the sands and hard was the way. Many BONES of less fortunate travellers marked their journey. But ENKIDU knew the secret paths of the animals and the secret hiding places of water, and the land fell behind them swiftly."

"The first MOUNTAIN range they crossed in a day; the first desert and mountain range they crossed in a single day. On the next day they crossed the second desert and the second mountain range; on the next they crossed the third desert and the third mountain range. On the third night they lay down to sleep, utterly exhausted from their journey."
Bones
Your mouth is already open to respond when Sihan's voice rises above the circle.

"True heroes were Gilgamesh and Enkidu," Sihan says. "They did not stop to pity the dead travellers who did not have the strength to cross the desert. They knew that the weak should not be pitied, for pity saps the strength of strong and weak alike."

A young warrior near Sihan places a hand on her shoulder for a moment. Saiph scowls darkly across the flames.
Bones
[** Programming error: bones (object number 157) has a property player_asks, but it is longer than 2 bytes so you cannot use "." to read **]
"Did the companions not stop to perform burial rites on the bones of those who had died in the desert?" you ask.

"Why should they?" says Sihan. "Those who failed the journey were weak, and their fate was decided accordingly. We should not pity the weak."
[** Programming error: bones (object number 157) has a property player_asks, but it is longer than 2 bytes so you cannot use "." to read **]

[** Programming error: bones (object number 157) has a property player_asks, but it is longer than 2 bytes so you cannot use "." to read **]

A gust of wind ripples through the grass.
Mountain
"Was the crossing of the mountains difficult?" you ask.

"For the likes of us, perhaps;" says the teller, "certainly for an old bones like me. Great and long the desert ranges ran, with no water or shelter or game on their cruel slopes. But Gilgamesh and Enkidu strode over their slopes without slowing down, though the sweat coursed down their bodies like rain."

The teller continues. "In the darkest hour of night Gilgamesh woke with a start and clutched his chest. 'Who walks there?' he gasped. 'Why does my flesh tingle? Has a GOD touched me?' Enkidu heard and awoke, saying, 'Have you dreamt, Gilgamesh? Tell me your DREAM and I will unravel its meaning.'

'I dreamt we walked in a gorge beneath a mighty mountain, you and I,' said Gilgamesh. 'We were like flies beneath its massive bulk. Then, with a rumble, the mountain COLLAPSED on top of us. What is its meaning, my friend?'"
Dream
Dreams are sent by the gods. Was this dream sent by SHAMASH, to presage the fall of Humbaba? Or, perhaps, by ENLIL, warning of the consequences of destroying his guardian?
ENLIL
"A dark dream," you say, "for the heroes to have on their journey. Clearly it was sent by Enlil, to warn of the doom the companions will face if they destroy his servant Humbaba."

"Your reasoning is sound," says the teller with a bow, "but the interpretation does not match the one Enkidu gave to Gilgamesh. 'The mountain is the demon Humbaba,' he said. 'Shamash has sent us this dream to show that we will defeat the demon, and his fall will shake the earth.' And Gilgamesh heard his words, and was at peace."
God
It is no longer the right time to make that part of the story.

"Dreams of portent are frightening," says a young mother, pulling her wrap tighter around her. "I do not like the gods to enter my head in the night."

"Wise you are to be cautious," says the teller with a nod. "The ways of the gods are strange and obscure to men, their dealings laced with complexities we cannot understand."
You mock yourself
[I'm not sure what you are referring to.]
You listen
You can't see "me" (yourself) at the moment.

The stars begin to fade as clouds swallow up their light.

As the teller speaks more of the journey across the desert, a strong hand presses on your shoulder. You turn to see Sihan's angry face only inches from yours.

"The power of the story should not be meddled with," she says in a barely audible undertone, the breath from her words hot on your face. "Why do you seek to TWIST and subvert its meaning to your own PURPOSE? Are you afraid of the SPEAR?"
Twist
"It is you who twists the story," you whisper back. "Why are you so anxious to bring our people to war?"

"You think war is what I want?" she says quietly. "No. I want our people to remember the feel of the SPEAR in their hands. I want our children to learn to defend themselves. For these times of peace we have lived in cannot LAST, and there may be no time left for us to remember it."
Last
"Why can't it last?" you ask. "Why can we not make peace with the outsiders?"

Sihan looks at you in disgust. "You are as foolish as you are OUTSPOKEN," she says. "How many stories of peace does the teller know, and how many of war? How many kingdoms, great or small, have lived forever in peace? This is a world of war, and those who do not see that are truly BLIND."
Blind
"No," you say fiercely, "the truly blind are those who decide the answer to a question before they have ever heard it."

Sihan looks away in disgust. "I see I waste my words," she mutters, "on a coward and a fool. I have no more to say." She turns and melts back into the crowd.
You listen
The stars begin to fade as clouds swallow up their light.

You turn your attention back to the teller. "On the seventh day," she is saying, "the companions crossed the seventh desert and the seventh mountain range, and came at last to the edge of the Cedar FOREST."

"The cedars were green, and the forest cool after the barren heat of the desert, and it smelled inside of wood and soil. But QUIET it was under the boughs of the trees; quiet, with a lingering whisper of FEAR."
Quiet
"But is this not normal for a forest? I have never heard of noisy trees," you say with a smile.

"This forest was too quiet: quiet as a temple, quiet as a tomb," the teller chants, "no creature stirred within the Cedar Forest; not hare nor hawk nor rat nor owl. No beetles crawled on dampened leaves; no crickets chirped. Even the wind seemed to lose its voice as it entered the cool wood."
Forest
"What did this mighty forest look like?" you say.

"Tall were the trees," says the teller, "tall and broad were the trees of the cedar forest, their wide arms grasping each other high above. The Cedar Mountain sloped up, up, up, and the trees were a pale green blanket wrapping it tight.
Fear
Fear, you wonder, of the UNKNOWN? Or the DREADFUL fear of a terrible evil?
Unknown
Your mouth is already open to respond when Sihan's voice rises above the circle.

"This fear is portentious," Sihan says. "Fear is a warning; a harbinger of terrible things and dangerous times. It is the gods themselves warning us of doom." Sihan looks at you challengingly from across the fire. "Do you agree?" she asks in a bold tone.

Whispers of assent float across the fire; some nod visibly at these words. Almost no one is looking towards you now.
Fear
The story has moved on; there are other things to say.

The teller speaks slowly, lingering over each word. "Enkidu and Gilgamesh stepped into the cedars with care, but," she says, picking up speed, "the demon Humbaba, Humbaba, Humbaba heard the rustle of every leaf in the forest."

The teller leaps up and spreads her arms wide, and the people shrink back in fear. "A wind blew through the trees," the teller says quickly, "and a FREEZING terror seized the companions. Nightmare FACES leered behind gnarled branches: blood-smeared faces, faces of rabid lions, faces with hideous tusks, always changing, always horrible. But the demon did NOT appear before them."
Fear
Before you can speak, Sihan steps forward.

"This fear is portentious," Sihan says. "Fear is a warning; a harbinger of terrible things and dangerous times. It is the gods themselves warning us of doom." Sihan looks at you challengingly from across the fire. "Do you agree?" she asks in a bold tone.

A shepherd nods his head, and holds his wife closer. Sihan smiles at the center of the people's attention.
Y.
"It is true," you say, "our fear can be a valuable measure of coming terror, if we learn how to read it." Sihan nods and smiles.

The teller speaks slowly, lingering over each word. "Enkidu and Gilgamesh stepped into the cedars with care, but," she says, picking up speed, "the demon Humbaba, Humbaba, Humbaba heard the rustle of every leaf in the forest."

The teller leaps up and spreads her arms wide, and the people shrink back in fear. "A wind blew through the trees," the teller says quickly, "and a FREEZING terror seized the companions. Nightmare FACES leered behind gnarled branches: blood-smeared faces, faces of rabid lions, faces with hideous tusks, always changing, always horrible. But the demon did NOT appear before them."
Faces
Shifting faces can be the mark of THIEVES; but perhaps there is MORE to them.
More
"The faces--whose were they?" you ask.

"The terrors of Humbaba; the seven terrors of the demon," says the teller. "Guarding their master they should have been; but they flocked to the companions, leering and snarling at them with a thousand devil faces. Enkidu's heart raced in his chest, as it had not done since he ran with the animals."

The stars begin to fade as clouds swallow up their light.
You listen
The wind is picking up now, catching the teller's hair and making it dance with each gust.

Sihan raises her voice above the crowd. "Truly Humbaba was hideous!" she shouts. "These changing faces that precede him are like those of all liars and thieves who mask their true self."

"Only too true," nods a gaunt woman from the crowd. "Evil is often couched in deception and lies."
Not
Curious, that. Did the demon not appear because he was a COWARD, trembling before the approach of the mighty heroes? Or did he perhaps hope to SCARE off the companions and avoid a fight?
Scare
"Perhaps he thought to save himself the trouble of fighting," you say with an amused tone, "by scaring off the intruders. Wise is the one who avoids unnecessary conflict."

The story goes on. "With a cry, Enkidu FELL to his knees," says the teller, mimicking the action. "'I cannot go on, friend Gilgamesh! You must leave me and go on alone. I must return to Uruk in shame, for I cannot withstand the terrors of Humbaba!'"

"Gilgamesh pulled Enkidu to his feet. 'Courage, friend,' he said. 'Two may prevail where one would fall. TOGETHER, we are stronger than any single man. Touch my heart and you will not fear death.' And Enkidu placed his hand on Gilgamesh's chest, and he felt no fear. Together they journeyed deeper into the forest."
Together
"So true are the words of Gilgamesh," you say. "Two together are stronger than two divided. Such a simple thing to say, but how many can remember it?"

Whispers of assent float across the fire; a fair number nod visibly at these words. Saiph gives you a quiet smile from across the fire.
Fell
Your mouth is already open to respond when Sihan's voice rises above the circle.

Sihan lets out a contemptuous snort. "So a few shadows in the dark is all it takes to subdue this Enkidu?" Sihan asks. "I would have expected more from one of Uruk's greatest heroes."

"You would expect the entire village to walk off a cliff if it would make them seem more honorable," Saiph says hotly, but the mood of the crowd is clearly against him.

"Be quiet and let the story continue," shouts a voice from the back of the circle.

The stars begin to fade as clouds swallow up their light.
Brave
"Even the bravest of heroes feel fear at times," you say gently. "Even the surest of feet sometimes question their way."

"Soon before them rose up a mighty cedar," continues the storyteller, "so tall its top seemed to touch the sky. 'Surely, this must be the tallest cedar in the forest,' Gilgamesh cried, and unsheathed his axe. But his FIRST blow had scarcely fallen when Humbaba screamed with rage. The leaves rustled and the ground shook, and in an instant Humbaba the terrible had come."

"His face shimmered and whirled with a thousand forms," says the teller, eyes wide as if the demon stands before him, "a thousand nightmare faces whirled and shimmered down at them. Humbaba's BREATH scorched their faces; his SCREECHES cut their ears."
Breath
Before you can speak, Sihan steps forward.

"On the very first blow of Gilgamesh the demon came?" Sihan asks.

"That is so," nods the teller, "the sound of the splitting tree had not yet died when the ground began to shake with Humbaba's rage."

"He is cunning," Sihan says, "this demon. He HIDES behind shadows and TERROR, waiting for his victims to grow complacent before STRIKING."

Low muttering comes from across the circle; it seems this has struck a chord with some. Almost no one is looking towards you now.
Hides
"Hides?" you ask aloud. "It was no secret that Humbaba dwelt within the Cedar Forest. It was no secret to Gilgamesh that he was its guardian. Gilgamesh and Enkidu knew well the consequences if they entered there."

"It also was no secret that this creature was a demon, a monster," says a young father with a clenched jaw, as many in the crowd mutter their assent. "If you imply this beast was somehow wronged, you speak your words into a lonely void."
Striking
"And Gilgamesh and Enkidu's response will be swift," you say. "They will cut down this wicked demon before he may spread his terror to the world."

The crowd voices their approval loudly.

The story goes on. "GILGAMESH trembled and fell to his knees. 'I cannot face him!' he cried to Enkidu, 'My blood has turned to ice. You must go on and fight him without me!'

Enkidu pulled Gilgamesh to his feet. 'Courage, FRIEND,' he said. 'The well-twined rope is stronger than a single strand. Together, we are stronger than any single man. Touch my heart and you will not fear death.' And Gilgamesh placed his hand on Enkidu's chest, and he felt no fear. Together they drew their weapons and faced the demon Humbaba."
Praise
[You can only do that to a human being.]
Friend
"The true friend is always there to help," you say. "What would Gilgamesh have done without Enkidu?"

"Spent less time talking and more fighting!" says a young man, whose friends all laugh uproariously.
You listen
The people huddle together as a hot, damp wind catches their clothes.

The crowd shuffles impatiently. "Let the story move on," calls someone, "let the heroes overcome their fear and destroy this demon." Many nod in agreement; Sihan looks at you with a smug, victorious smile.
You repeat
The story goes on. "GILGAMESH trembled and fell to his knees. 'I cannot face him!' he cried to Enkidu, 'My blood has turned to ice. You must go on and fight him without me!'

Enkidu pulled Gilgamesh to his feet. 'Courage, friend,' he said. 'The well-twined rope is stronger than a single strand. Together, we are stronger than any single man. Touch my heart and you will not fear death.' And Gilgamesh placed his hand on Enkidu's chest, and he felt no fear. Together they drew their weapons and faced the demon Humbaba."
Gilgamesh
"Ahh," you say, a great smile breaking over your face despite yourself. "And now it is your mighty Gilgamesh who falls to his knees in fear. Will you mock him too, as you did Enkidu?"

Sihan stares back at your with narrowed eyes. "Do not make light of the story," she says quietly.

The story continues. "Humbaba laughed, and the mountains shook," the teller says, then draws herself up and cries out in a great, booming voice: "'What fools are these? What fools are these who dare challenge the demon Humbaba? I will crush your bodies and leave your corpses bloody and mangled on the ground. You will never see your homes again and your women and children will mourn an empty grave.' And with a roar like the splitting of the heavens, Humbaba charged."

"Enkidu stabbed with spear; Gilgamesh slashed with sword; Humbaba ripped with claws. Trees crashed to earth; the ground was torn asunder; lightning and thunder split the skies over the forest. Gilgamesh and Enkidu fought like no men ever fought before; but still the demon Humbaba drove them back, and the companions came ever closer to defeat."
Humbaba
Your mouth is already open to respond when Sihan's voice rises above the circle.

"Awesome must it have been, to see such a fight," Sihan says.

"You would not have wanted to be too close!" warns the teller, bringing a nervous laugh from the audience. "The clouds turned to a poisonous shroud; the very mountains were split by the fury of Humbaba's rage. It was all the companions could do to stay alive."

Sihan speaks under her breath with a friend across the circle.
Lightning
You open your mouth to speak but a middle-aged widow turns with a look of annoyance. "You speak too much." she says frostily, "Be quiet and let the rest of us hear how the story ends!"

She turns eagerly back to the teller, as several nearby people hide their smiles, but the teller's face is hard. "Those who speak too little have no voice in the story," she says, eyeing the old woman critically. "Which fate is worse?"

The teller continues. "Gilgamesh cried to the sky, 'Shamash, my lord! Help your servant Gilgamesh in his hour of need!' And SHAMASH heard Gilgamesh's cry, and sent all the mighty WINDS of the world to rail against Humbaba: The Winds of the North and the South and the West and the East and the Rainstorm and the Snowstorm and the Icestorm and the Sandstorm; the Screaming Winds and the Piercing Winds and the Cruel Winds and the Devil Winds and the Winds of Simurru. Thirteen winds Shamash sent against Humbaba, and not even he could stand against them all. Enkidu threw a net over Humbaba and Gilgamesh seized him from BEHIND."
Winds
The mighty ASSISTANCE of Shamash is timely; but is it also a bit UNFAIR?
Unfair
Your mouth is already open to respond when Sihan's voice rises above the circle.

"How awesome an ally," Sihan marvels, "how great an honor the companions of our story received! Could their quest be any more justified than with the divine blessing, the divine assistance of Shamash, lord of the skies?"
Fairness
"So that is how the mighty heroes end their adventure," you say bitterly, "sneaking behind an enemy held down by a god. How brave the companions were."

The crowd mutters angrily. "Hold your tongue," says an older woman, wagging a finger in your face. "I will not hear you slander good Gilgamesh and brave Enkidu any longer."
Mock
The story has moved on; there are other things to say.
You listen
A gust of wind makes the ashes of the fire hiss.

The teller continues. "HUMBABA saw the way things were and cried out in fear. Humbaba the demon CRIED out, 'Do not kill me, mighty heroes! If you let me live I will be your slave, your eternal SERVANT. I will let you cut down all the TREES you want; I will cut them for you. I COULD have attacked you when first you set foot in my forest, but I showed you MERCY. Now return the favor and spare my life.'

"Gilgamesh heard Humbaba's words and took PITY on the monster. He lowered his sword. But Enkidu cried out: 'Do not listen to him! Show no mercy to this cunning foe, this EVIL creature. If you let him live he would attack us the moment our backs were turned.'"
Pity
"Curious," you say, "that mighty Gilgamesh, so strong and proud, would take pity on the creature in this way."

"He has been through a great battle," says Sihan, "and the great windstorm has doubtless muddled his wits."
Trees
"Humbaba offered the trees of the Cedar Forest to Gilgamesh and Enkidu?" you ask.

"Yes," breathes the storyteller. "Humbaba the demon even offered to carry the timber back to Uruk."
Mercy
Sihan is speaking before you can react.

"My people," says Sihan, "is the evil of this demon Humbaba not clear? Hideous he is, with changing faces; he strikes fear into the hearts of all men; he threatens Gilgamesh. He must be destroyed."
Evil
The time is not right to weave that into the story.

The storyteller continues. "Humbaba the demon called out in fear, 'Please, mighty heroes, do not slay HUMBABA! I was set by Enlil, father of the GODS, to GUARD over the forest. If you slay me he will be angry and his judgment severe.'

"Gilgamesh heard the demon and again took pity on him, lowering his sword, but ENKIDU cried out, 'Gilgamesh, do not listen to his words; close your ears! Kill the demon before you become confused. Kill him now before he can tell the gods anything. Kill him now and claim your fame!'"
Humbaba
Perhaps it was a sign of WEAKNESS for the demon to plead for his life. Or was the creature WISE not to fight to the death?
Wise
"Humbaba was wise not to fight to the death," you say. "Continuing malice in the face of total destruction is foolishness."

At these words, some nod somberly. Parents hold their children tighter. Saiph gives you a quiet smile from across the fire.
Gods
"Humbaba's words should not be dismissed," you say. "Will not Enlil be angered if his servant is destroyed? These brave heroes should not be pawns of the gods; they should make their own fate, and not interfere with the realm of the divine."

A voice somewhere behind you calls, "It is true!" and a few nod their heads in agreement.
Wait
In a sudden flash of lightning the whole valley is illuminated around you; then you are plunged back into darkness.

"Enkidu has had a change of heart," Sihan says. "When once he opposed Gilgamesh in the quest to slay Humbaba, he now is more set on this mission than even Gilgamesh."
Defending
"Humbaba did not threaten the people of Uruk," you reply. "He only guarded the Cedar Forest many leagues away. It was Gilgamesh and Enkidu who came to Humbaba's home and attacked him. It was Humbaba who had the right of defense."

The teller continues. "Gilgamesh looked into Enkidu's eyes," says the teller's powerful voice, "Gilgamesh, the King, looked into the eyes of his friend Enkidu and made his decision. He knew..."

A gasp rises from the far side of the circle. Out of the darkness three dozen strangers appear, bearing long spears and faces painted with dark blue lines. It is the newcomers, the invaders in your valley, and as they approach your fire, the rain begins to fall.

Amongst them one stands out: tall, with sharp features and a thick leather vest. You guess at once that he is their leader.
Greet
"Welcome to our village," you say to the leader. "We did not expect visitors in the midst of our telling. What can we do for you?"

The warrior leader steps out of the DARKNESS and bares his teeth. "You will give us HALF your sheep," he says in a strange, harsh accent, "and half your grain. You will GIFT us these things or we will take them, now." The men behind him grip their SPEARS tightly.
You listen
The fire smokes and hisses as rain falls on it.

"Half?" a bold youth says mockingly, stepping forward in anger. "Beggars should not be so greedy. Why should we give you anything at all? We are strong, and do not fear your threats."

The warrior leader's face darkens and he grips his SPEAR tightly. "My people are also strong," he says coldly. "I ask you one last time. Either give us what we want; half your sheep and grain; or we shall RAZE your village to the ground."
Even
"Your spears are of fine make," you say, "not so different from ours. I think if our peoples were to fight, it would be a very close battle."

The warrior leader's face stays fierce, but you see in his eyes he has thought the same. "We would not take this path," he says with heavy tones, "were there any other way. But the spear is the only way we have in this strange land where our SHEPHERDS cannot catch sheep."

Lightning flashes across the bodies of the enemy warriors, who stand for an instant in brightest light before thunder and DARKNESS settle over them once again.
Shepherd
"The skill to catch these sheep can be taught," you say. "We will teach you. Come in peace, and we will teach you to catch the sheep and share our grain with you."

A twisted smile crosses the leader's face. "We have heard such OFFERS before," he says, a bitter edge shaping his voice, "to come unarmed and helpless to the homes of enemies with sharpened SPEARS and cruel daggers. Do you think us FOOLS?"
Fools
Are they truly FOOLISH? Or are they merely shaped by DESPAIR?
Despair
"You are not fools," you say softly, "only people like us who do not wish to see their children starve."

"You are brave," he says after a time, looking away for a moment and licking his lips. He focuses on your people. "And clear-headed," he adds. "Perhaps... perhaps there are things we can learn from you."

He steps forward and your people raise their weapons, but you hold up your arms and stand before them. The warrior leader places his spear on the ground. As he straightens, a wave of sighs moves through the circle, a release of tension in both strangers and neighbors.

The leader of the warriors looks upon you with stoic pride. "I am Arkab," he says, "and these are my people."

The fire has almost died and the people have scattered, leaving a tangible emptiness behind. Even the rain has stopped its drizzle.
[Nothing entered.]
You look at your surroundings
The fire has almost died and the people have scattered, leaving a tangible emptiness behind. Even the rain has stopped its drizzle.

Saiph finds you and gives you a strong embrace. "I am glad there was no war," your love says, "though I was ready to fight if I had to. ARKAB has promised to return tomorrow, bearing gifts instead of spears."
Arkab
"He seems a man of his word?" you ask.

"It is too early to tell," says Saiph cautiously, "but I have a good feeling about him."

Saiph places a firm hand on your shoulder. "There is sad news," he says. "The storyteller is DYING. The shock must have done something to her heart. There is little we can do now, but she asked to speak with you. You should hurry," he adds quietly, pointing towards the storyteller's TENT near the edge of the village, "for there is not much time left to her."
Tent
You pull aside the flap of the teller's tent and step inside.

A lamp burns low, its nearly-spent wick barely lighting up the storyteller's small tent. Nothing adorns the walls or brightens up the floor; all that is here is a small straw mat, on which the teller lies, breathing shallowly.
You examine teller
The teller lies on a simple straw mat, as if merely resting, but it is clear at once she is very sick. Her face is waxy white; breathing rasps in a sweat-covered throat; grimaces of pain fight for control of the wrinkled face.
Kiss teller
Now is not the time for that.

The teller smiles at your arrival, and beckons you closer with a weak hand. You kneel by the old straw mat and grasp the cold fingers tightly.

"Curious," she mutters, "the way fate moves, sometimes weaving a fantastic tale, and othertimes getting the timing all wrong. I would not have had my end be upstaged, were I telling this final chapter." She smiles, then grimaces in pain.

The teller seems to look through your eyes to something hidden at the core of your being, and weigh it with great care. "The people did not hear the end of the story," she says presently. "For good or ill a great decision was made tonight, before the story was complete. Would you know how it ends?"
Y.
"Yes," you say, "I would hear the end of the story."

The teller smiles and closes her eyes. "Gilgamesh faced a choice," she says quietly. "Whether to take pity on Humbaba and spare his life, or kill him, as his friend Enkidu counseled. Gilgamesh looked into Enkidu's eyes, and made his choice. He reached into the demon's throat and pulled out his insides, pulled them out of the demon's body by his tongue. Enkidu chopped off Humbaba's head, and the ground shook, and the forest trembled, and the soil ran with blood. And then it rained, it rained, it rained..."

The storyteller trails off, eyes unfocused, as if lost in another world. After a long moment, she comes back and looks at you. "Perhaps this seems to you a strange story to tell at such a time?" she asks.
You go north
The teller wants to spend her last moments with you; you cannot refuse such an offer.
You listen
Wind tugs gently at the tent flaps, then subsides.
Y.
You smile, your affinity lighting up your face.
Describe the surroundings
A lamp burns low, its nearly-spent wick barely lighting up the storyteller's small tent. Nothing adorns the walls or brightens up the floor; all that is here is a small straw mat, on which the teller lies, breathing shallowly.
Wait
The lamp sputters quietly, sending flickering shadows across the tent wall.
Heal
You examine the teller quickly and see it is as Saiph has said. Her breath is shallow and skin is pale, but the eyes tell you most clearly how short her time is.
Story
This is a story about a healer in the village who was in love with a strong warrior man, Saiph. On the night of the telling, when the healer's aunt Isi became the teller, their enemy Sihan tried her best to turn the people towards needless war with the outsiders. The healer spoke against this reckless path, but the people heard the words of Sihan more clearly.

Words flew between these two firebrands, but their rancor was too bitter and curdled to heal. The arrival out of the blackest night of the strange newcomers shook the crowd, so sure peace was the way. The healer who brokered a fragile peace, and agreed to share their resources with the curious strangers to their land.

And the teller lay dying, struck down from shock or chance with a weakened heart, and in her final moments called the healer to her side.
Heal
You examine the teller quickly and see it is as Saiph has said. Her breath is shallow and skin is pale, but the eyes tell you most clearly how short her time is.

The teller smiles at your arrival, and beckons you closer with a weak hand. You kneel by the old straw mat and grasp the cold fingers tightly.

"Curious," she mutters, "the way fate moves, sometimes weaving a fantastic tale, and othertimes getting the timing all wrong. I would not have had my end be upstaged, were I telling this final chapter." She smiles, then grimaces in pain.

The teller seems to look through your eyes to something hidden at the core of your being, and weigh it with great care. "The people did not hear the end of the story," she says presently. "For good or ill a great decision was made tonight, before the story was complete. Would you know how it ends?"
Yes
"Yes," you say, "I would hear the end of the story."

The teller smiles and closes her eyes. "Gilgamesh faced a choice," she says quietly. "Whether to take pity on Humbaba and spare his life, or kill him, as his friend Enkidu counseled. Gilgamesh looked into Enkidu's eyes, and made his choice. He reached into the demon's throat and pulled out his insides, pulled them out of the demon's body by his tongue. Enkidu chopped off Humbaba's head, and the ground shook, and the forest trembled, and the soil ran with blood. And then it rained, it rained, it rained..."

The storyteller trails off, eyes unfocused, as if lost in another world. After a long moment, she comes back and looks at you. "Perhaps this seems to you a strange story to tell at such a time?" she asks.
Yes
A smile. "There is a secret that all storytellers know," the teller says, and I will tell it to you now." She beckons you close, and says each word distinctly. "No story is true, until the listener has heard it. A story is no more true than a doll is a man. To a child, a doll can seem to be filled with life and wishes and dreams; but this is not because of the doll. It is because of the child."

The teller coughs, but the cough turns to long, gasping chokes.
Touch
(the herbs)
You feel nothing unexpected.

The teller's eyes sparkle. "The power of the teller is to share the story with the people," she says, "but the power of the listener is to make the story true, or untrue. Only a teller who understands where the true power lies becomes a master; only a teller who knows not to hoard this power can bring change to this world."

The storyteller coughs again, very, very weakly. There will be but a few more breaths, now, before the end.
You listen
Wind tugs gently at the tent flaps, then subsides.
Look around
A lamp burns low, its nearly-spent wick barely lighting up the storyteller's small tent. Nothing adorns the walls or brightens up the floor; all that is here is a small straw mat, on which the teller lies, breathing shallowly.

"I have one last gift for you," she says, her voice fading but still beautiful, "a choice you must make. You must make your decision not out of consideration for me, nor for Saiph, nor for any but yourself, for it is you who will walk the path this choice lays out, and you alone. There is no shame in refusing, for the ways to the path are many, and another will find it in time. But I think, perhaps, it is well-suited for you."

The storyteller grips your hand tight, and summons up one final reserve of strength, holding your gaze with eyes that begin now to fade. "The teller must gather the people each time the moon dies," she says. "The teller must tell the stories to the people so the young will learn and the old not forget. The teller must teach the people who they are, and how to shape who they will be. Will you do these things? Will you become the storyteller?"
Yes
The teller sighs, and sinks back into her pillow, and your father's sister Isi lies before you once again. Peace slowly fills her pain-wracked face, and she mutters something as the old eyes close. You bend closer to hear.

"You will tell the stories well, my child," Isi says in a voice softer than grass in the wind, "You will tell them well."

The voice falls silent, then, and there is much darkness before the next story begins.

This is a story about a healer in the village who was in love with a strong warrior man, Saiph. On the night of the telling, when the healer's aunt Isi became the teller, their enemy Sihan tried her best to turn the people towards needless war with the outsiders. The healer spoke against this reckless path, but the people heard the words of Sihan more clearly.

Words flew between these two firebrands, but their rancor was too bitter and curdled to heal. The arrival out of the blackest night of the strange newcomers shook the crowd, so sure peace was the way. The healer who brokered a fragile peace, and agreed to share their resources with the curious strangers to their land.

And the teller lay dying, struck down from shock or chance with a weakened heart, and in her final moments called the healer to her side. She told the healer how the story ended, and whom the telling changed. A teller died and a teller was born, and the story will always guide the way.
Afterword
Thank you for interacting with "Whom The Telling Changed." If you haven't already, try playing again and pursuing a different path. There are many ways to experience this story, and many perspectives you may encounter: what you assumed to be right and wrong, good and evil with one play-through may not be as simple as you thought. Your very first action sets your course, but there are many ways to alter it as both stories progress, some surprising.

The storyteller's tale is part of the Epic of Gilgamesh, the oldest story recorded by human history, originating in Sumeria more than 4,000 years ago. The specific words used by the teller are my own, a mishmash of various versions of the Humbaba story from Sumer, Babylon, and Akkadia. The quest of the Cedar Forest is only a small part of the full epic, which is well worth reading or re-reading.

The setting of my frame story is not meant to be any more specific than somewhere in the Fertile Crescent, thousands of years ago, but to fill in the details of atmosphere and setting I am indebted to Karen Rhea Nemet-Nejat's book "Daily Life in Ancient Mesopotamia." The various translations of the Gilgamesh epic were also very useful: specifically, those of Mitchell, Ferry, and Gardner/Maier, all of which are beautiful and readable versions of the work.

Thanks also to my beta testers James Cunningham, Michael Fransioli, and Henrik 'Drix' Jensen, to storyteller Beth Horner, and to the friends who helped me wrestle the very nebulous concept for this piece towards its final implementation.

Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, read the AFTERWORD, or QUIT?