Museum Studies

The Warrior's Tale

TW: Depictions of mild violence,historical discrimination and transphobia

He was entombed.

Oh, he hadn't always been a statue. Once upon a time, before that young man with sunlight running through his veins showed up, Wamuu had been very much alive. He had been a warrior, a gladiator, and a name to be feared. But in order to understand that, we must go back in time. Back to the beginning, when it all started.

The village was burning as Kars and Esidisi headed into the jungle, cradling their two new adoptive sons. The children had been found abandoned on a rocky cliff for the sun to kill, something that shocked Kars. Younglings were so rare, and the gestational period was so long- why would any parents leave their childre to die for being "weaklings?" This only amplified the rage created by his mask being rejected and scorned, and thus Kars and his lover massacred the entire tribe.

"Look at you, *****, you say that you are a man, and yet you give in so easily to you biological maternal instincts." The elder had sneered as Kars ran her through with his blades. The entire population of pillar people in the Americas had been decimated, bar for these four survivors. The two men walked through the forest for a while, and seemed shelter in a cave. As Esidisi made a fire, Kars spoke up.

"What do we call them?"

"Huh?" The fire lord grunted, accidentally igniting his robe. He squealed and stamped it out, and Kars sighed.

"The children, what ought we to call them?" Kars sighed. The two babies lay on a bundle of furs, one blonde and one redheaded. They were brothers, that was obvious, but names weren't.

"Well, I think the big blonde one should be Wamuu. It's a fine name." Esidisi said. Kars thought about this, then nodded.

"Yes, that'll do splendidly. And the redhead... I don't know, how about Santana?"

"San Viento?"

"No, Santana! Like the... Oh, nevermind."

Kars lay back with a soft groan, and Esidisi picked up the blonde baby.

"Oh, isn't he cute? He's our son now! Look at his chubby cheeks!"

"It's not a doll, you fool." Kars snapped, but he too was elated at the idea of having sons. "They're to be raised as warriors, not coddled. Now come to bed and show me how much you desire me, you brute."

Years passed, and the two babies grew to be toddlers. As much as he despised his tribe, Kars took it upon himself to keep their stories and traditions alive. After all, there were other pillar folk out there, at least if you believed the rumours. It was roughly 65,000 years BCE, and humans were still cowering in their cars, terrified of legends of the "night people." They were little more than upright apes, and yet they worried Kars. There were only a few of them, but some of these upright apes were getting smart. They would draw things on the walls of caves in ash and blood, and would set traps with snares. These were wise, wise men, and yet Kars was still certain in his superiority. In order to give his new sons a good upbringing, he'd recount stories of warrior queens to them.

"In a land far to the east, where everything is cold and flat, there is a great warrior queen. She rides on the back of a giant wild horse, over the huge planes of ice that cover everything north of where we are. She has armies of female warriors, and the power to freeze whatever she wants. We call her Puzi-ryut, my son's, and you must aspire to be as deadly and as fearsome as her. Some even say that humans only figured out how to make fire in order to scare her off, as they think she is the one who takes your spirit away when you die."