Scathir



A congenial human man of middling age and complexion, this wandering priest gave little in the way of backstory. If asked of his homeland, he would mention ties to the bustling port city of Lanis Del and a somewhat "rough-and-tumble" childhood. Although he professed little in the way of magical aptitude, he has on occasion demonstrated hands-on knowledge of certain divine rituals.

“A desert is a lot like an ocean, if you replace all of the water with air. It stretches out and out in unfathomable distance and, in the absence of sunlight, turns to pure black. Sounds become secrets, impossible to verify as true until the light returns. It is not empty merely because you cannot see all of it. And you know in your heart that it isn't—that it is the opposite of empty once it is dark, because things that do not like to be watched emerge when all of the light is gone. There is no way to know the shape of them, though, until your hand is on them.”

― Maggie Stiefvater, All the Crooked Saints

Backstory
Everybody knows sumthin

Prayer
While Father Scathir claimed deep devotion to Lir, Mother of the Wild and "Mistress in the Glade," many of his battle litanies and divine rituals had very little to do with her domain.

Rending Chant
लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

निगड भङ्ग पाश विदलति

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

निगड भङ्ग पाश विदलति

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

निगड भङ्ग पाश विदलति

लोकः समस्ताः सुखिनो भवन्तु

The Supplication of Sankt Pero Lanmaktr
Pero bis peshd kpe stenkra et gild et shadlit

Bas saldȯt dirpesh'ne et ker bi'dle

Bas arȯdt dirne pre adnȯrdt

Tyrn et Lakt pirn atlink

pas Shindekan

Kepn pard

Bi'tyrn atlind

Lanker et dekan Lakt

Bas arȯm sanktep nepnr ardt

Bas saltep te lakt ne stenkri et gild

Pero shepan ne korsten pord'te lȧkt werent

Bas kopesh pird et lȧkt pe pertaklin

Bas perlna weregild pe kiltna

Weremakt'te et pe tryn

pe makr ban

pe sat

Mikprendta ne

Ban lanmak et peshandt

Arkpe tepn lin Shinde bȯrdt Lakt

Peshrȯdin kord ban tepn atlinknedor

Kpere Shindre Sankt risdan kor ban tepn sdrelant

The Supplication of Saint Pero the Burned (trans)
Pero was born atop stolen mountains of gold

His life Enlightened by many a sage

His heart known for its great fervor

Child of Light sent to scour

our holy Shade

Time lent

A child to slay

Burned by lov'ely Light

His darling saint implored great wrath

His soul saw truth in their great gold mountain

Pero rested on hills strewn with shackles and blood

His sword forged from chain I shattered

His incurred weregild I payed

With bloodstains of my heirs

i marked him as

my own

Ink'ed upon

Him are stains of folly

Arms once seizing Shade cast back Light

Protecting what he once persecuted

Under Shadow the Saint frees who he once claimed

Rhymes
[Alir] the brave, Aler the Bold

[Alir's cloak] of feathers so [old]

His brow a'silvered by rich ma[n's pence]

His love a secret for many years [hence]

Alir has a feathered coat

He drapes it over sunshine's brow

Alir has a silvered crown

He wears it under moonshine's glow

Alir breaks the big man down

He took of him o'er star's shadow

For Alir was n'er all he wrote

He gave to him all Shade endowed

"These two fragments likely refer to Alir Jornsennin (c. 1710 - 1655 PI), self-proclaimed "King of Thieves," and are among the oldest recorded pieces of the rich oral histories of the first Herlbatian fisher-tribes. They are thought to be the progenitors of many nursery rhymes popular throughout the continent, including such mainstays as "Alice's Speckled Cloak," as well as the inspiration for The Mourner in Rest, acclaimed playwright T. Glitterspring's most recent work."

Merni's Ball
Once born a child (in Eveshore)

Sickly and small (and stained with gore)

Without gods' aid (her family implored)

O Merni had (not long a'board)

O Merni's Da' had (a silver key)

And dear dark pitch (did guarantee)

His daughter's shade (at cost of strife)

So with a turn (he bur'd the knife)

O Merni turned (a big-bonned lass)

With eyes of gold (and arms of brass)

Till she was chained (to rich man's oar)

Ne'er to see (her 'ly ashore)

O Merni rowed (in galley's hull)

Crowded by slaves (her strength enthralled)

To them she shone (with darkened fire)

As she spake of (rebel's desire)

O Merni was (a hardy soul)

With fists so strong (and voice so bold)

Her eyes they flashed (upon the tide)

Her teeth they gnashed (all through the night)

O Merni crushed (and broke and hit)

For three long years (she ripped and bit)

At rope and chain (that bound her fast)

Till their tar stained (her teeth all black)

O Merni broke (the galley's floor)

At captain's call (she gave a roar)

Many scars his (cutlass did apply)

Till her hand ripped (his blade aside)

O Merni's black-(hands swarm the crew)

A hundred-and-one (they did see to)

And as she tore (the captain's head)

The rest did see (and leap for bed)

O Merni did (gambol and laugh)

As chain and rope (was thrown from aft)

Her crewmen one (by one did cry)

As all their free(doms she let fly)

At Merni's shout (they came unwound)

For thirteen days (their drums did sound)

And then they took (up oars once more)

To free all those (who bound implore)

Some say her crew (still sails and 'way)

Some say Gaiere does (frollick and play)

Our oars they dance (all through the spray)

For Merni's Ball (we dance this day)

Death Rites
Oh a dead man walks 'elow a rising sun

O dae hhoj aho n'a aa

His days are numbered, the axman comes

O dae hhoj aho n'a aa

His shoes are wo'orn, his dark soul spent

O dae hhoj aho n'a aa

When his darkness co'ome, be not afraid

O dae hhoj aho n'a aa

For he watches you from past his grave

N'dae l'daa n'se tē j̄or

"Recorded direct from crew of Delaj N'enh (NW Herlbatian Sea) c. 2307 IW. Chanty/working chant common among sailors, migrating merchants from Alpetetes trade routes to Eral River. Usually called E Wurde Soln (Warden's Song), w/ little variation. Name is rough elvish, supporting theory: responses by crew are heavily corrupted versions of Old Elvish syllabic structures, contrasting chantycalls invariably in Common. According to Piotre McCrynard, wind witch (third tier) of ''Delaj N'enh, "Ani shailr ner mum c'd tell ye dat chanty's ben round fer lnger dan de Shea 'Erself. D firsh tribes at tk ta' shettlin run ere tawt et ta'er kits, at tawt ta'er kits, at tawt et ta ar granpairsh, at taught ta ar pairsh, at tawt ta arsh. Rekin dat wark-shong l'awtliv al'd men A'v e'er nuhn." {"Any sailor could tell you that shanty has been around for many thousands of years. The first tribes that settled in Herlbatus passed it down through their families, who taught it to the many non-elvish itinerant workers and sailors who came to this place after the creation of the Herlbatian Sea. I believe that song will outlive all of the people I have ever known."''}

Translator's Note -- Though the author's notes are relatively easy to alter from late-stage Pre-Djintarian Trading Common, their source of direct quotation has vexed even my considerable skill. It appears to be some sort of Gnomish corruption, and I have noted beneath it what I believe to be the greater meaning, although it is by no means a direct translation."

Beggar's Littany
Links forged into Chain

Chain forged into Arms

I do invoke Thirteen within the Nameless Shade

Bound Mourner and Shadow Sire

Warden Beyond Shade and Twilight Patron

Shackled One

Grant thy Servitors respite gainst Burning Truth

May the Thiefwatcher lay the deep flame low

May Grim Caller sight the Ever watchful tyrant

May Great Darkness of Many Faces heal the blindness from my eyes, as they did the Burned

May Crooked-Smile-in-the-After-Eve drape the Cloak cross my body, as he did the Rebel

May the Consort of Fortunes press their smile upon My brow, as she did the Lover

I pray let your Midnight Balm flow through me,

And I pray Once-Unknowing wash between me

Shindre risdan

Act of Binding
I shall remember

When all else can not

I shall honor

When all else will not

I ask thy succor

For I am of thy people

I become thy fetter

For thy people are of me

Lament of the Forsaken
Oh we dig and dig we dig some more

Oh we wo'rk until our backs give out

Till our fingers bleed a'neath the Mount

Till Foreman cries forth "No More Stout!"

Then we rest and we sleep and we don't look down

The Deal
Upon a midnight dark and dreary

I took a trip up to a clearing

Old Master Pitch he took a bow

and said to me I Know Not How

Litany of the Key
I will not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

I will feel my fear.

Fear is that which binds and breaks existence.

I will see my fear.

Fear is the ever-death which brings dust and rot.

I will name my fear.

I will feel my fear and I will face my fear.

I will permit it to pass through me and between me.

The power of my fear is my own, as is its guise.

When its mask has been removed there will be one thing.

For the ward is recinded, and my fear is with form.

I will not fear, for it is bound.

I will not fear, for I hold the key.