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Day one of a new journey!

I've decided to re-start the numbering of my journals since leaving the capital, as this is a separate, much grander journey than my expedition west. I wasn't allowed to bring any of my clothes (The shock of it!) and instead am garbed in a wrap of light, pale linen that is the traditional traveling garb for bipedals in the Naga Empire. Honestly, I thought I'd be less happy than I am, but these are a damned sight easier to move around in than a proper dress, and cooler by far. We followed a great river south by southwest, through an area rich with farmland that hearkened my mind to the great Nile river of Egypt.

I met Sha'Khappoyin at the camel stables southwest of the palace; I haven't been allowed into the palace proper, yet, but Pri Sha'Khappoyin insists that I didn't miss anything. There was no celebration to see us out, no parade of music and dancers. He'd spent the early morning with his family, and no-one else, and we set off him and I without any fanfare. There were people in the streets who called out and waved, greetings tossed which he returned, but nothing more. It was curious, especially compared to the pomp and grandeur so normally associated with royalty!

The oddest thing though, was that the good Sha was naked of any real clothing. He had an odd headdress to protect his eyes from the sun, and some hybrid between backpack and harness to carry camping essentials, but nothing else. I blushed and turned my eyes from him, only for him to scoff at me! He insisted that clothing was only essential to protect modesty, and was absolutely shameless in pointing out that his... genital slit... was indeed securely wrapped and shrouded. I'd heard stories of Naga indecency, same as anyone else, but I can't help the feeling that he was poking fun at my embarrassment... something in the way his eyes twinkled, I think... and, used to seeing him in royal garb, I was unprepared for exactly how much muscle I'd see rippling under his scales...

But these journals aren't to document my idle daydreams! I must recount our first day of travel. I rode a camel, while he slithered (Purely because no pack animal exists that could comfortably carry a Naga, save for the mighty elephants of India, perhaps) and as soon as we left the city behind I plied him with more questions about this Ghanyr character. Sha'Khappoyin was less reluctant, now that we were outside the city walls, but he insisted that Ghanyr's story could only be told beneath a full moon in the dark of night.

But while he was recalcitrant to discuss Ghanyr himself, he seemingly has no trouble discussing the taboo around the name, and much of our day was devoured by a discussion of spirituality, both the Naga's and that of western (eastern?) civilization.

The Naga believe in a person's immortal soul, which outlives their body. When mates... mate, their souls mix, and a fragment breaks off to form the child's soul. The actions that child takes through the course of his life refine and define his soul, and on death, the souls of the just ascend to a suitably desirable afterlife. They have an old legend, older than the pantheon they worship that depicts a Shepard similar to the Grim Reaper, who arrives at a person's death to help guide them to the afterlife, but, every debt and every regret acts as a weight on the soul, and one burdened by too much weight is unable to complete the journey. Moreover, a Naga's body must be burned, to release the soul from its fleshy confines, and a Naga's soul is unable to truly leave its' body until such a fire consumes it.

Their approach to debt and regret is similar to Karma, in a way; crimes against others and favors done to you create debt, and generosity and kindness can erase it. Except, debt, can be sold, traded, or in some cases, inherited. If a Naga dies from accident, disease, or other such calamity, it is almost assured that they have debts and regrets, things that might weigh the soul down enough that it cannot complete the journey. Such a spiritual debt can be transferred though; children, spouses, and close friends will often voluntarily take up the deceased's debts so that they might pass on. It is an act of the utmost generosity and kindness, risking your soul for someone else's, that the simple act of shouldering such a burden often lessens the debts of the Naga who accepts it. Such a belief also forms the backbone of their penitence system... instead of spending time rotting in a jail cell, criminals have the option of taking up a deceased's debts and regrets. They are closely monitored by the state until they make good on the last wishes of the dead, and upon such a time, they are released back into society. I started to ask all sorts of questions about repeat offenders, heinous crimes, and what-have you, but the prince insisted that a detailed discussion of the penitence system would have to wait for a different day, as matching a crime to a penance was difficult, and in most cases, arbitrary. He did say that it was voluntary, with the alternative being multiple years of community service and fines, depending on the sentence.

I then asked again who Ghanyr was; did he have some egregious karmic debts that he'd never repaid? Khappoyin grew a bit uncertain, but proceeded by assuring me that he could only discuss the factual, recorded history of Rikh Ghanyr. As it turns out, that isn't much.

Ghanyr was the agitator of the appropriately named Ghanyr rebellion, the cottonmouth who almost singlehandedly overthrew the King Cobra dynasty. I looked the Sha over from head to toe, confirming that he was indeed a Diamondback Rattlesnake, and pointed out that, if Cottonmouths overthrew the emperor, wouldn't they have taken the thrown?

Khappoyin paused here, debating at length how to answer my question without breaking the taboo; oh, I already yearn for the next full moon! After some time, he spoke that Ghanyr was too violent. He was legendary for his viciousness and violence on the battlefield, and when the wars ended, he sought additional violence. He went on a string of increasingly brutal murders, culminating after a two month chase with him taking his own life rather than surrendering to the guards who'd ensnared him. No acts of kindness could possible even out the brutality he enacted, no fool would be insane enough to willingly shoulder such a burden, and no serpent in the entire kingdom thought he deserved the afterlife. His body was hacked to pieces and scattered throughout the wasteland, dooming him forever to the earth.

He continued that, in retrospect, it might have been better if they'd burned him after all. A study of Ghanyr's life is a study of questions, mysteries never answered and interpretations half-pieced together from facts, but countless rumors circulated that Ghanyr had only attained such battlefield prowess by making an unholy pact. Khappoyin had difficulties translating what such a pact might entail, but it sounded like a good old fashioned pact with the devil, like betting your soul against a golden fiddle. Such a pact changed Ghanyr's soul, allowing it to freely and voluntarily leave his body, among other things, and to this day his spirit haunts the Naga Empire. It is rumored to be a fickle spirit though; while apparently not as malicious in death as he was in life, Ghanyr is supposed to be violently proud of his legacy, and enacts the utmost of ill luck on any who disparage it. A discussion of known facts, he tolerates, but the full story? The Legend? That might only be told by the light of a single candle beneath a full moon, and if Ghanyr is displeased with the telling, he'll snuff the candle out, a warning that the teller's life will follow if he continues.

As far as ghost stories go, it sounds splendid. I'm an educated woman, and I've heard enough urban legends to not believe them any-more, but... there was a strangeness, to the air, while we discussed it. Khappoyin kept glancing around uncertainly, as if he expected to see Ghanyr's ghost jump up out of the wheat fields. He certainly believes whatever legends he's heard.