The First Pilgrimage of Olvgani (Olvgantog) the Pious
The mountains shook under the might of the storm. Blinding flashes one after another followed by the sound of cracking, tumbling stones and crackling thunder. The scared young boy trembled in his sleeping bag while his father gathered the cooking equipment back into the tent. Olvgani's young cub, just a few months old, snuggled into him, also quivering in fear of the chaos surrounding them on that cold night on the mountain.
"You know he's got to sleep outside, right?" Olsevos called from outside the tent.
"Shh. I won't make you go out there, Givvy," whispered Olvgani to his bear cub who groaned in response.
A soft chuckle was heard made by Olsevos as he finished clearing the camp for the night. Olvevos' bear sat staring off into the distance and he only glanced at his master as his fingers combed through his fur. He knew the danger was real this deep into the mountains. The silver mountain tigers blended in with the rocks and their wide, soft paws were almost inaudible as they stalked across the slopes for any unsuspecting prey.
Olsevos double checked his map, and fingered the stone marker by the ledge. He knew that it would be another days' travel before they reach the monastery. He had made this journey every year since he was Olvgani's age, and was hoping to pass that tradition on to his son, and his son's after him. But most of all, he looked forward to the hot meal that awaited them upon their arrival.
They had not eaten since the start of the trek. He knew well the tradition of not breaking the fast until the appropriate offering had been made, and that offering right now was silently munching on the shrugs next to them. Pangs of jealousy wrung his heart as the chewing noises echoed in his ears.
***
The monastery was hewn into the side of a mountain. The tradition is that it was the cavernous home of the ancient Ovorganti King Klovark. The carvings told the tales of Klovark wrestling the ancient beasts, taming the bears, and passing down his wisdom to the new inhabitants of his realm (the Syverenians themselves). Though all the iconography was brilliantly chistled, the altar itself was the masterpiece of the monastery.
The altar, which was a solid granite block that stood five feet high, twelve feet wide, and four feet long. The natural coloring of the granite itself outlined the carvings of the depictions of the final battle of Klovark against the serpents of the lake, banishing them to the depths never to return to the mountain streams again. The eyes of the Ovorganti were rubies that shown brilliantly in the dim fire light of the hall. The scales of the serpents were of amethyst. Most interestingly, though, was that the stop of the altar was etched to depict Klovark himself laden with gold and jewels and holding his mighty hammer. They say that the embedded hammer is in fact Klovark's actual hammer that was used to smash the skull of the Serpent King himself. Doubtless, it is because of this overt reverence that the Ovorganti, too, make visits to the monastery.
The prayers of the monks could be heard echoing throughout the ornate halls and passages. The monks of Klovarkanti Monastery are said to be singing their whispered prayers in perpetuity. It is not the practice of Syverenian monks to use instruments in their worship, so, instead their architecture is designed to reverberate and echo so as to create a chorus from even a mouse's sneeze. Each monk's voice harmonizes with all other voices, regardless of what room they are in. This is why it is frown upon to speak plainly within the halls, and all are encouraged to chant even the most mundane conversation.
"Wow, do you see that, Givvy?" Olvgani wondered out loud to his bear-cub.
This was instantly met with disapproval from all the young monks, but the elder priests smiled as the care-free youth.
One monk, an old monk (who was rumored to be a prophet) named Algarog, marveled at the youth, but no one else understood. His eyes followed Olvgani's gaze to the Dofanti of Klorvak himself. Algarog had never met another being who could see Klorvak's presence within the monastery.
It was long established that holy persons would visit name-sake monasteries, especially when pilgrims arrive to honor the gods whom they had served. Klorvak had served the gods well. He was one of the few Ovorganti who had remained faithful to the gods in the early days of the humans. He took the humans under his wing and taught them all that he knew of the gods, and, as one of the prophets, he was able to teach them a lot indeed. He taught the early human prophets the language of the gods so that they could understand the words that they were hearing. He knew, also, that the humans did not possess the physical prowess of his race, so he taught them the necessary skills to defend themselves against both physical and spiritual threats. His multitude of deeds go on and on, and could fill a book unto themselves.
Klorvak gestured to Algarog to approach the boy, and faded amongst the incense which filled the room. Algarog bowed to the ground before the altar, then turned and approached the young boy cradling his bear-cub. A gleam was seen in his eye, and confusion struck both Olvgani and Olsevos.
"Come, child. Let me show you around the monastery. There are many secrets here, of which I am sure you will come to many many," said Algarog gently as he placed his hand on the young boy's shoulder. He gave a subtle nod to Olsevos letting him know that the boy shall be taken care of.
"Go; learn much. This is a very special thing that you are being given," Olsevos told his son while ushering him to follow the monk.
Over the course of Olvgani's stay at the monastery, he was shown many things that words are incapable of describing. Most of which, no other eyes but his and Algarog could behold. The swirling of spirits within the halls lifted the boy's own spirit to the reaches of heaven, while Algarog instructed him on the proper practice of rituals and ther purpose.
As Algarog was bidding the young boy and his father farewell, a Word was heard, and that was the first Word that the boy had experienced. He told his father its meaning, and Olsevos marveled at his son. Algarog's knowing eyes met his, and he understood well what this meant for his son. His heart broke, for he knew the outcome of all prophets who lived in society, but he knew that he could not defy the gods.