Bulls On Parade

[Jon Little Bird]

Coyote, outcast of Shipololo


Some had whispered that Coyote was a bastard son of Wakonda, the god-King who had built the City of Mist in the Heavens, accessible by the common folk only through the Hanging Road to the Sky. They whispered that was the only reason he'd been tolerated in the their home for so long. His mother had died in childbirth and with no family or clan support he was left dependent on the scraps of others. The Gift had bloomed very early on within him, however, strong enough for even Wakonda to take notice. It did nothing for the rumors when Wakonda announced to the grand Kiva that he would bear the expense of Coyote's training. Wakonda's son Hare bore an immense jealousy toward him after that.

Even though Coyote gained access to instruction in the Way of the Weaves, it didn't mean his teachers would pay him much mind. Often he was left to observe rather than practice directly. So he became very good at watching in patience. Watching, and waiting. Especially when he walked the ways of the Dream. All secrets could become known to him, and they became like currency to him, to barter against or to stockpile for another time.

And what a wicked weave his fellow gods made! An incestuous, selfish, petty brew, as they plotted against each other, formed and broke alliances, almost on a whim! Shipololo was hardly the most extravagant Hold, especially when put up against the distant halls like Olympus or Valhalla. But even here, people wanted for nothing. The gods lived among opulence and beauty, cleanliness and plenty, wrought by the power at their fingertips. They had risen up from the ashy floor of the past and triumphed over the natural world. For what reason except perhaps sheer boredom at having achieved transcendence from the surface was there to squabble and fight?

And then the dreams started. First he didn't understand them to be anything more than nightmares. But then things began to come to pass, and he began to see more clearly that this way of life was not going to remain forever. Indeed, the gods were doomed to tear themselves apart through sheer selfishness if they remained on this course. So he turned to Wakonda and began to help the god-King keep order through his abilities. The man put him in charge of his spy network and Coyote quickly became both the god-King's greatest asset and the most despised god in Shipololo. Especially when he took note of their treatment of the surface dwellers.

Then came the day Wakonda died in bed. Coyote didn't believe it was natural, but he had no proof. Hare ascended to seize control of the city and swiftly moved to banish Coyote. He was hauled before the grand Kiva and one by one they voted to Mortalize him. With no one to defend him, it seemed likely he would be cut off from the Source and abandoned on the surface. Not everyone believed he was deserving of this fate, however. Nokomis, the dowager mother of Wakonda, helped him escape and flee to the surface in the dead of night.

It didn't take long on the surface for Coyote to learn the true meaning of poverty, and for him to realize just how much he really did have growing up in Shipololo. Survival on the surface was a much different game than survival on the heavens. There were places where nightmarish monsters or beasts of nature could kill you, or where mortal vassals of the gods ruled with an iron fist, happy to keep producing the goods the gods demanded in exchange for their leavings and their pledge to keep in power. Vast swaths of ground were warded against rival god factions and turned uninhabitable. And if the common people managed to survive all of that, they had to spend their days toiling just to produce enough food to feed their families.

With a mere fraction of the tools at the Gods' disposal they could alleviate this suffering, yet they chose not to. And then there were the gods who made the mortals their playthings. They were the ones who sickened Coyote the most. They were also the reasons he found a very cool welcome. Word was spread fast by the other gods that Coyote had been cast out and that other gods would not protect him. Coyote was run out of the first town he came to once it was revealed who he was. They hated and mistrusted him, and he didn't blame them much for it.

No home below, no home above. Coyote searched from hold to hold to find a new place to lay his head at night. He kept his ability carefully concealed through the use of inverted weaves, and he wore many disguises. His once-fine clothes, even woven with Keepings, began to show their age.

And the dreams continued. He would wake in horror with what he saw. The more powerful the gods became, the worse the downfall would be, and the more the people would suffer. It became clear the only way to save the world was if it were allowed to be destroyed. They had cast him out and rejected him for trying to do better for others. But one day things would be different.

Which brought Coyote to this place, in the land of giants. Ashes of pine, it was cold and dreary. He wasn't even sure how to pronounce the town's name. At his side he kept his stun-stick and a simple belt knife, left carefully concealed behind an inverted weave. The name of the place matched the signs. Twin peaks of ice towering above a bushy plain. They looked like they could use some warming up.

Way in the back, he saw his new acquaintance Prometheus, chatting with a youthful blonde male with big muscles. The man was a known betrayer of the gods, exiled by his own kind for turning on them. Not much different from Coyote, he supposed. He didn't recognize the young man.

"Hello again friend, I hope you left some of that drink for me,"
Coyote said as he approached the table. He rubbed his chilled hands together. "My veins are feeling as icy as those twin peaks on the sign outside. Let me get warmed up and we'll see what you've got there. A dream I had says that it's important."