Teńku/Stories

## Njokarandu

Before the Ndeńǵo, centaurs, and inverted centaurs existed, they (supposedly) shared a single common ancestor: the njokarandu. In the early days of the world, Unbamo and Udonda had little experience creating physical forms for souls to inhabit. This led them to create a whole array of fantastical creatures, including njokarandu, as a sort of experiment. After Unbamo birthed the 13824th njorandu, she realised that its body and soul poorly melded. The soul had trouble managing all 24 limbs, so it suffered from faulty balance and coordination. As she gazed at the world below, she realised that all the njokarandu shared a similar disability. Reluctant to ask Udonda if he would share more soul energy for each animal, Unbamo rebirthed the njokarandu into three stabler forms: the Ndeńǵo, centaurs, and inverted centaurs. She united the majority of the limbs so that each creature would have three pairs, but she left some split ends to create digits for their hands and feet. Since the Ndeńǵo stood slightly shorter than the other two species, their soul was better distributed through the body. As a result, they obtained the higher thought necessary to form a spoken language and a civilization.

## Ndenkýtu ku Jielyanzy

One day not long after Talýlota was at its height, Njoteka, a towering, muscular centaur, trotted into Nvonde. With nose held high, he pushed his way through the residents performing their daily tasks to reach the local talýjizi (tradehouse). Although trading with centaurs was common practice, Njoteka demanded an unreasonable amount of produce for a single stem of msýdamumo (blue spice). As he continued his insistent gestures to perform the unbalanced trade, one of Nvonde’s inhabitants called for Riýmbe Tova. She came over to see all the commotion Njoteka was creating, only to find that he had knocked out the person with whom he was trading and was trying to escape with a lofty sack of grains.

Immediately, Riýmbe Tova shouted for the townsfolk to assist in the capture of the cunning centaur. She sentenced him to trial by Totamcezi, a simple trial that tested cooking skills familiar to both the Teńǵo and centaurs. Yet, in his ignorance, Njoteka failed to craft a dish passable as msýlyanzy. This failure determined his punishment to boil in his mediocre-tasting concoction.

Unready to die, the insolent centaur thrashed at the Ndeńǵo dragging him towards the large pot until he broke free. He sprinted for the grasslands and did not stop until he found some fellow centaurs. He told exaggerated tales of a barbaric people who murdered all his comrads after they asked for a place to rest. (Or, at the very least, signed to them, as the centaurs had no known spoken language.) During the course of the following months, he began to raise an army for revenge.

Although many centaurs joined Njoteka in his quest to eradicate the Teńǵo, his actions created a dichotomy in centaur beliefs. The centaurs who opposed him knew the false nature of his accusations, so they warned the riýmbe of the upcoming conflict. Riýmbe Tova fell to the ground as she heard the news, tears slowly rolling down her face. Not only had she failed to restore Utýnkýtu by executing Njoteka but allowed it to be disrupted further in one of the worst ways possible: war. She lay in her room reflecting profoundly on the past days events. The familiar warmth of her stone bed brought her into a deep slumber.

Once Riýmbe Tova awoke, she had an epiphany about how to defeat the Njokateka (Njoteka’s supporters and warriors). She knew her method would be essential to defending the Teńǵo, as they were greatly outnumbered by the centaurs. She called the riýmbe to join her in the second Jirýcýlo, and all came immediately, intrigued to learn anything that could protect their townsfolk. Once every riýmbe arrived, Riýmbe Tova announced her plan. Centaurs are born standing up because they lack the joints in their knees needed to sit down. If ndyanzy (Ndeńǵo warriors) could break even one of their legs, then the centaur would be heavily impaired, making them easier to defeat. Since the centaurs had an incredible speed advantage, the ndyanzy should employ a strategy where they would block the centaurs’ initial blows and whack their legs immediately after.

The majority of the riýmbe agreed with this method to defend the Teńǵo, so they began to deliberate over the equipment necessary to employ it. For protection, they would hold ñede ku tandýǵogo, shields covering half of their body, and talorý tandýǵogo, smaller shields held in their lower right hands. As a weapon, the ndyanzy would carry a tuńie (club) in their upper right hand. In an ideal situation, the ndyanzy would block the centaurs’ attacks with the ñede ku tandýǵogo and bash in their front legs with the tuńie. If the centaurs advance at a poor angle, then the ndyanzy can use the more manoeuvrable talorý tandýǵogo to block their attacks. Since swinging the tuńie from behind that shield would be more difficult, the ndyanzy would aim for the centaurs back legs instead.

Once the riýmbe finished discussing their war tactics, they returned to their home villages to recruit ndyanzy. They were able to raise a decent force, but, as expected, it was much smaller than Njoteka’s army. In order to tilt the balance in favour of the Teńǵo, the talýlota council held a mass sacrificial ritual, where 12 children were sacrificed to Utýdamsi. The council members were confident Utýdamsi would answer them since Njoteka’s threat of war disturbed Utýnkýtu.

Utýdamsi’s answer came a week later in the form of the friendly centaurs. They announced an incoming attack before it arrived, allowing the Ndeńǵo ndyanzy to prepare defence positions safely away from any villages. Once the actual fight started, the ndyanzy employed the riýmbe’s strategy. It proved highly successful, and the ndyanzy drove back the centaurs in no time.

Peace had been restored to the villages around Talundamsi, and the land was on its way to becoming the nation of Teńku. Many years have passed since the end of Ndenkýtu ku Jielyanzy, but hatred towards Njokateka and their descendants still burns deeply in the hearts of Ndeńǵo.

## Njoginsazo Gyaguzý

Once Ndendora Ndejoǵu discovered the false nature of the rumours about a massive population of inverted centaurs to the West, Jirýkozý ku Njokaguzý (the annihilation of inverted centaurs) began.

While such a polarised action might seem to disturb Utýnkýtu (balance in the world), the Teńǵo believed that the inverted centaurs themselves were the true disruption. Their ever-dwindling numbers only proved their anomalous existence. The njokarandu proved that even Unbamo, the greatest deity of them all, had struggled to find an ideal vessel for the soul, so perhaps she had faltered in her design of the inverted centaurs as well. Thus, the Teńǵo sought to earn Unbamo’s favour by expunging the malignant creatures from the face of Jieńońxu (the world).

Within weeks, ndyanzy flooded the city of Toxuńga Njokaguzý, the closest settlement to the inverted centaur’s habitat. Riýmbe Tedýmse welcomed them with open arms, asking her citizens to provide them with whatever supplies they needed to vanquish the heinous beasts. Since Toxuńga Njokaguzý was home to the greatest number of inverted centaur attacks, they happily obliged.

In no time, the ndyanzy decimated the beasts’ population, using slightly modified tactics from Ndenkýtu ku Jielyanzy. Soon, only a single inverted centaur was left. The ndyanzy claimed it resided within Jirevibe ku Ñelyanzy (the heart of the Jirevibe forest), but few dared to venture there. Supposedly home to Uakundý Uafene (the Invigorating Fountain), they believed the inverted centaur sought it out to obtain supernatural strength.

The ndyanzy’s claims would have had little weight if not for the fact that fewer than half returned from their hunts. And those that did return often limped back to Toxuńga Njokaguzý with deep, bloody gashes. Each time a nyanzy arrived at the city, they described one key feature of the inverted centaur: its melancholic expression.

Whether the inverted centaur could truly experience such a complex emotion was only known by Unbamo, but it certainly appeared that way. Every other member of its herd had been killed at the hands of the ndyanzy, so it was left to fend for itself. It sought desperately for another herd so it could start its own, but wherever it travelled, it found nothing but rotting corpses. Finally, it decided to retreat to Jirevibe ku Ñelyanzy, where it felt comfortable under the cover of the dense underbrush. It rarely left its new home, only coming out to hunt for the occasional meal. Consequently, this tale earned the inverted centaur its name: Njoginsazo Gyaguzý (the lonely inverted centaur).

After many days of continuous loss, Riýmbe Tedýmse prohibited anyone from travelling into Jirevibe. For the first time since the citizens of Toxuńga Njokaguzý could remember, there were no reports of inverted centaur attacks in the following weeks. News spread rapidly across the nation, and Ndeńǵo everywhere began throwing feasts to honour the restoration of Utýnkýtu.

However, Riýmbe Tedýmse was not convinced that Teńku was safe from the threat of inverted centaurs. She sent out the Jiceǵozozu—a special group of 24 scouts trained to evade the nearly-extinct beasts—to make sure their celebration was not premature.

The members of Jiceǵozozu had once taken pride in their expeditions into Jirevibe, and this one started no differently. Sensitive to the slightest rustle, they examined every hiding place an inverted centaur might reside. They were met with nothing but the scattered remains of the ndyanzy’s conquests that could not be digested by the forest’s residents. For once, the chirping of the birds felt eerily calm, as they no longer concealed the slight movements inverted centaurs made before leaping for their prey. Each careful step through the tranquil woods strengthened the unease in the hearts of the Jiceǵozozu scouts.

Finally, as they reached Jirevibe ku Ñelyanzy, Njoginsazo Gyaguzý came into view, wearing its famed dejected expression. Immediately, it swooped in and slashed three unlucky scouts. At a similarly rapid speed, it turned to run away. The Jiceǵozozu members took this as a sign that it would no longer attack Ndeńǵo as long as they let it live in peace. So, they reported what they discovered to Riýmbe Tedýmse. She announced to the entirety of Teńku that inverted centaurs were indeed an extinct threat and that the ndyanzy had restored Utýnkýtu.

## Censored War Speech

In her response to TNS, Ncimvambe stated her wish to bring peace to the lands of Teńku. Unfortunately, many Ndeńǵo believe this peace will remain impossible until Teńku becomes whole. The region Temsýdamumo, now known as East Gip’Gero, is home to the greatest abundance of an herb sacred to the Teńǵo: msýdamumo. It’s almost fluorescent blue colour provoked Teńǵo to incorporate it into many of their traditional foods and medicines. However, once the region fell into the hands of Gip’Gero, access to the herb greatly diminished. While this angered the Teńǵo immediately, they feared retaliation may further upset the balance of Utýnkýtu. Yet after the recent reappearance of the awful inverted centaurs, they believe that they remain in the favour of Utýǵyńga, the god of fire, destruction, and organisation. Therefore, they feel now is the best time to retake their old territory and restore their traditional recipes in the name of Utýkoǵý, Utýndýńi, and all the other relevant godly children of Unbamo and Undonda.