Tall, lean frame, round ears, and bright eyes, Xholis are diurnal, hierarchal, and intelligent species that wield the forces of nature. Xholis are social animals that can be recognized into 2 different clans. The ones that hunt at dusk, and those that hunt at dawn. Their pelt reflects their environment as the Dusk hunters tend to have darker palette while the Dawn hunters are significantly lighter. Between those two clans, the species are once again split into more diverse and specialized packs. Fire, Earth and Water are the most common forces of nature that each Xholi wields. The gem they are born with determines their attribute, which is effected by the parent's gems. Every Xholi is given a role befitting their status in the pack, and the leader of the each pack is expected to keep the peace.
Sentinel Savant - Dawn Dunia Pack
Congratulations!
Kami and I both liked that you came up with a story that describes the Xholi's markings and a in-depth
view of Thala's personality. It attracted us more to your form that her personality was like a double-edged
sword - especially as her role as a Sentinel Savant.
Verdana wrote:Name:
Khuthala (pronounced Koo-tah-luh) but goes by Thala
Meaning:
Xhosa in origin; the name means 'diligent'.
Gender:
Thala feels strong ties to both genders, but goes by female pronouns for convenience.
How did they become a Sentinel Savant?:
"A sentinel must have two paws firmly planted on the boundary line," said old, wizened Sentinel Vizier firmly.
"Those paws must not waver, even in the face of adversity. A sentinel is an extension of the boundary line. To crumble is to break the line and leave your home defenseless. You must be brave. You must be watchful with all of your senses. And most of all, you must be diligent!"
"Yeah, yeah," muttered newly-Apprenticed Khuthala, but not loudly enough so that anyone could hear. She was young, she was unformed, and she was without much direction. While all of the other young sentinels stood at rapt attention, drinking up information, Thala slouched. She was regretting her decision already. She could have been a scout, or a gatherer, or something. She had always been told that being a sentinel was good, strong, sturdy work; just what she was made for with her big build and strong senses. And, of course, if that was not enough, the gems on her front paws were a dead giveaway. According to the adults, in any case. So there she was. She wondered, vaguely, if the scouts still had any Apprentice positions... Oh, but of course, Thala had two left paws and the subtlety of a falling boulder.
And there she was, quite some time later, as a fully-fledged sentinel, with plenty of knowledge but little enthusiasm. But, she supposed, that was alright, since she never saw any adversity anyway. It wasn't as if creatures were thronging to attack, Thala thought irritably one hot and dry Summer day, despite what Savant Vizier was always saying. All she had to do was plant her paws, maintain her boundary, and wait to be relieved after her shift. It was easy work. Monotonous work. Couldn't get much wrong, but couldn't shine, either.
And, boy, was it hot.
Thala shook her head, and snapped open her eyes as something ran over her paw. A small rodent. She made a lazy swipe at it - more out of a sense of obligation than of hunger - but it ran right past her without even looking back. It was followed by another, and then a flurry of reptiles.
'Strange,' Thala thought. It was also strange that the sky seemed to be darkening, long before dusk, and the heat grew only more stifling. Come to think of it, the air was thick and smelled acrid. Almost like -
Almost -
"Fire!"
It wasn't Thala who raised the call. It was another Sentinel, probably Morte. Count on Morte to steal the thunder during the only interesting thing to happen to the pack in who knew how long. Thala wished she had thought of it herself, but dutifully sent the call along the lines.
"Fire; fire!"
She sat back, and did what she usually did, which was to watch and wait. She couldn't see the fire. She could smell it and feel it, but there were no flames. Still, she was restless, but resisted the urge to pace. It was not her job to leave. It was her job to stay still. It was her job to watch and defend. But there was nothing she could do. Not against fire.
More animals came in steady streams, steaming, with wide eyes, red nostrils and ashy marks on their bodies. Then none came at all. But still Thala held strong, and watched. She heard coughing from around her, and crashing, and the calls of 'Fire!' got further and further away.
'Oh, good,' she thought in vague relief.
'Means I can go too.'
And she almost did. Almost. But then she remembered a small group of hunters passing by her that morning, gossiping and laughing -
heading straight for what was now an inferno.
She paced up and down her boundary line. To leave? To stay? To risk her own skin for an invisible other? She lifted one paw off of her boundary line, but just as soon dropped it down. The fire was crackling and roaring in front of her, and the smoke and heat made her eyes stream. But through it all, the gems on her paws weighed her down. She could not leave.
"Here! This way!"
Were there other xholis out there? She could not hear anything over the growl of the flames, could not see anything through the smoke, could not smell through the ash. But still she kept to her post. Thala sent out her mind, and tore vegetation out in a clear path before her, for any of her packmates trying to return home.
to protect you must destroy
When a wall of ash and smoke and sparks, carried on the wind, roared towards her at chest height, she raised her head tall and anchored her paws.
a sentinel must plant their paws
She stood there until, coughing and hacking, her legs gave out.
a sentinel must be diligent. I am a sentinel
Many days later, Khuthala came to in the Healer's den, and got a sound rap on the snout for her troubles.
"What were you thinking?" the Healer demanded. Khuthala, with a throat still raw from the smoke, rasped out -
"Waiting."
"For what, pray tell?"
"Hunters."
"They were back hours ago, you fool! Why didn't you check!"
"Because," she coughed, "sentinels don't leave."
And she meant it. And continued to mean it. The fire had singed her legs and tail, and that fur grew back dark and coarse. But when she went back to her post, her slump was gone. The ambivalence had left her eyes. Her ears were always perked, her nose always twitching. She was first to her post, and last to leave. And whenever she walked past a young apprentice, whose expression was bored, and muttered,
"Yeah, yeah," in response to a Savant's lecture, Khuthala was the one to take them aside after a class, and explain and emphasise and even show a young Apprentice what it meant to take proud in their role, over and over until they were as convinced as she was.
It was this persistence with the younger generations, this empathy and focus, that singled Thala out for a Savant position. And it was her dedication to her job, and to producing sentinels who would hold their post no matter what came at them, that caused her to accept it.
