The gathering at Tlaxcala would have seen many delegates sent by their lords for a rare opportunity to exchange information 'directly'. Some, such as Wey Taketzani Tilputunki of Kushkatan, had very specific messages to relate to the other ambassadors...
Tell me, speak to me with your hearts, may truth be found in its breath the true fate of Chululan. Has rumor choked its way to Kuzshkatán like a foul weed? Behold, my kingdom is distant, my kingdom is on the edge of the world, from my kingdom I can see the waters that lead to Talukan. The travelling breath grows cold, its truth is a picked flower that fades. Even the breath of my own heart is not like that of the Culhua*.
And so I, Tilputunki, lord of the Kuzshkateku and the Xinka, captor of the lords of Pokomam, beseech you, lords of the White Way**! I implore you, Ladies of the Black! Give the Great Speaker of the Jewelled City the words that do not fade, give them to his emissaries. Has the Place of Running fallen to a mad Speaker? If the stories are true, does he truly speak for Tiyut? Why does he seek to deny them the most potent gifts, the most filling meals, the greatest power that can only come from the human spirit?
Few towns can carry the burden of the offering up of men, few towns can partake in the flowers of its ceremony, and the song that is made for those who give their service. It would be too much to ask this of every town, and so the putting down of the knife by Cholollan, though earning that place no good fortune through its betrayal of the gods, and bringing sorrow and mourning to those who loved it as the holiest place of our ancestors, a place where people are as numerous as reeds, faithfully carrying the fire of the Toltecs but no longer, may not bring too much harm to that which is surrounded by the waters. If the place of those who ran vowed to focus all of its worship and adoration on Kitzekowat alone, that would be a thing I could easily understand, it may even be a thing to respect.
But that blasphemous Speaker, that intoxicated revelrous lord of the Chololtecs, if the stories reach us true, does not simply abandon his own city to his own madness, but steals the clout earned by his ancestors to coerce the whole world into his foolishness. I tell you now with no flowers in my speech, this is that which will end the Fifth Sun.
The speaker of the Chololtecs, he became bored of his excessive pulque! In pursuit of pleasure he consumed the peyote alone, he did not take the counsel of his priests. And the speaker was visited by Weyweykuyut, who wished to amuse himself by destroying the world, he saw a great opportunity. The god filled his heart with lies, the lies were sweet like Cholollan's incense.
Lords of every direction! Do you plan to follow the corrupted counsel of a blasphemer, simply because the holy and wise once wore his crown of turquoise? I have full faith that you do not. The libraries of your towns are vast, you know of the consequences if the gods are denied their blood. How shall Tunaltiyut gain the energy and protection needed to travel through the sky without the aid of the warriors? How shall Taluk make the fields fertile with no blood or tears to strengthen the rain, and how could anyone possibly convince him to send rain to their own fields without proof of such devotion? How could we possibly repay the gods for their own sacrifices without blood? What insult this would be! Such betrayal they would feel! The farmer toils for his maize, and the maize gives itself up, for they both need the other to give sacrifice. So too must we give ourselves as yield of the gods' toil, that we may receive their care and blessings.
But the Chulultek taketzani is unwilling to give anything, he wishes only to take. We do not always need to give these offerings. Our gods rarely require much from the fountain of the life of men. Behold, the land is plentiful, I see no reason to take more hearts than necessary. Even our own blood can be pricked, threaded and spilled at no cost of our life. O, woe! Does Cholollan's selfish Speaker refuse to part with even a single drop of blood? How many quail feathers can approach the power held in our own hair? How many mountains of frogs must be offered to the Lord of Rain? Can the peccary, as close as her spirit is to a human being, defend the Sun and help it to rise? Would you let deer suckle your women as the Maya do just so you could have enough of their hearts to match the value of a single human heart? O, woe! The Speaker is so averse to death that he cannot stand to sacrifice a mouse! Does he not know our time on this earth is only one step in our lives, our time on this earth is only for a little while? Speaker, you cannot feed the Lords of the Earth and Sky with incense alone! Did the wise men of the esteemed Cholollan not teach you this? Did you, in your youth, refuse to listen?
Behold, the people of Cholollan are forced to feed on thistles, onions, and other weeds of the field, because the benevolent Speaker, who loves all life and eschews killing of any kind, cannot bear to see the sight of a precious maize stalk cut down, except perhaps that it then goes to increase his storehouses of pulque.
My friends, I see no bright future in a world that neglects its duty due to some superficial idea regarding the despising of death. Refusing to offer up blood ourselves, safely and with reverence and reward, will not cause the end of bloodshed. If we do not aid the gods willingly, then both in their wrath and in their pains of starvation, they will make it happen. We will have elected the way of pain. Taluk will not give any rain, the crops will fail, and children will die to give him a more meager amount of power. The gods will drive enmity between us and cause us to kill each other. In our empty gardens will be scores of hummingbirds. Our fertile fields will have a multitude of butterflies. Tunaltiyut will be unable to complete his journey out from the land of the dead, surrounded by enemies. Kuyulshawuhki will kill the Sun.
The Tzitzimime will come, they will devour us all.
Even now, the world is beginning to be choked by war and conquest. Friends, choose peace, choose life, choose sacrifice!
And so does Cholollan live to its name twofold: once as for those who fled from Tollan's fall, twice as for those who now flee the responsibilities taken up by their ancestors, those who flee from righteousness.
I mourn for the fallen Tollan, I weep for the end of that great history, my fists clench at the perfidy of man. O, what a terrible age of darkness! O, what a terrible opinion!
*Even though IOTL the Mexica had become the dominant force in central Mesoamerica (which time will tell if the Triple Alliance gets that big ITTL), everyone not close by just kept calling them the Culhua after the traditionally dominant polity of the Valley of Mexico. Since they also absorbed that title that further linked them to the Toltecs, the Mexica welcomed the connection.
**West and north, respectively.
Tell me, speak to me with your hearts, may truth be found in its breath the true fate of Chululan. Has rumor choked its way to Kuzshkatán like a foul weed? Behold, my kingdom is distant, my kingdom is on the edge of the world, from my kingdom I can see the waters that lead to Talukan. The travelling breath grows cold, its truth is a picked flower that fades. Even the breath of my own heart is not like that of the Culhua*.
And so I, Tilputunki, lord of the Kuzshkateku and the Xinka, captor of the lords of Pokomam, beseech you, lords of the White Way**! I implore you, Ladies of the Black! Give the Great Speaker of the Jewelled City the words that do not fade, give them to his emissaries. Has the Place of Running fallen to a mad Speaker? If the stories are true, does he truly speak for Tiyut? Why does he seek to deny them the most potent gifts, the most filling meals, the greatest power that can only come from the human spirit?
Few towns can carry the burden of the offering up of men, few towns can partake in the flowers of its ceremony, and the song that is made for those who give their service. It would be too much to ask this of every town, and so the putting down of the knife by Cholollan, though earning that place no good fortune through its betrayal of the gods, and bringing sorrow and mourning to those who loved it as the holiest place of our ancestors, a place where people are as numerous as reeds, faithfully carrying the fire of the Toltecs but no longer, may not bring too much harm to that which is surrounded by the waters. If the place of those who ran vowed to focus all of its worship and adoration on Kitzekowat alone, that would be a thing I could easily understand, it may even be a thing to respect.
But that blasphemous Speaker, that intoxicated revelrous lord of the Chololtecs, if the stories reach us true, does not simply abandon his own city to his own madness, but steals the clout earned by his ancestors to coerce the whole world into his foolishness. I tell you now with no flowers in my speech, this is that which will end the Fifth Sun.
The speaker of the Chololtecs, he became bored of his excessive pulque! In pursuit of pleasure he consumed the peyote alone, he did not take the counsel of his priests. And the speaker was visited by Weyweykuyut, who wished to amuse himself by destroying the world, he saw a great opportunity. The god filled his heart with lies, the lies were sweet like Cholollan's incense.
Lords of every direction! Do you plan to follow the corrupted counsel of a blasphemer, simply because the holy and wise once wore his crown of turquoise? I have full faith that you do not. The libraries of your towns are vast, you know of the consequences if the gods are denied their blood. How shall Tunaltiyut gain the energy and protection needed to travel through the sky without the aid of the warriors? How shall Taluk make the fields fertile with no blood or tears to strengthen the rain, and how could anyone possibly convince him to send rain to their own fields without proof of such devotion? How could we possibly repay the gods for their own sacrifices without blood? What insult this would be! Such betrayal they would feel! The farmer toils for his maize, and the maize gives itself up, for they both need the other to give sacrifice. So too must we give ourselves as yield of the gods' toil, that we may receive their care and blessings.
But the Chulultek taketzani is unwilling to give anything, he wishes only to take. We do not always need to give these offerings. Our gods rarely require much from the fountain of the life of men. Behold, the land is plentiful, I see no reason to take more hearts than necessary. Even our own blood can be pricked, threaded and spilled at no cost of our life. O, woe! Does Cholollan's selfish Speaker refuse to part with even a single drop of blood? How many quail feathers can approach the power held in our own hair? How many mountains of frogs must be offered to the Lord of Rain? Can the peccary, as close as her spirit is to a human being, defend the Sun and help it to rise? Would you let deer suckle your women as the Maya do just so you could have enough of their hearts to match the value of a single human heart? O, woe! The Speaker is so averse to death that he cannot stand to sacrifice a mouse! Does he not know our time on this earth is only one step in our lives, our time on this earth is only for a little while? Speaker, you cannot feed the Lords of the Earth and Sky with incense alone! Did the wise men of the esteemed Cholollan not teach you this? Did you, in your youth, refuse to listen?
Behold, the people of Cholollan are forced to feed on thistles, onions, and other weeds of the field, because the benevolent Speaker, who loves all life and eschews killing of any kind, cannot bear to see the sight of a precious maize stalk cut down, except perhaps that it then goes to increase his storehouses of pulque.
My friends, I see no bright future in a world that neglects its duty due to some superficial idea regarding the despising of death. Refusing to offer up blood ourselves, safely and with reverence and reward, will not cause the end of bloodshed. If we do not aid the gods willingly, then both in their wrath and in their pains of starvation, they will make it happen. We will have elected the way of pain. Taluk will not give any rain, the crops will fail, and children will die to give him a more meager amount of power. The gods will drive enmity between us and cause us to kill each other. In our empty gardens will be scores of hummingbirds. Our fertile fields will have a multitude of butterflies. Tunaltiyut will be unable to complete his journey out from the land of the dead, surrounded by enemies. Kuyulshawuhki will kill the Sun.
The Tzitzimime will come, they will devour us all.
Even now, the world is beginning to be choked by war and conquest. Friends, choose peace, choose life, choose sacrifice!
And so does Cholollan live to its name twofold: once as for those who fled from Tollan's fall, twice as for those who now flee the responsibilities taken up by their ancestors, those who flee from righteousness.
I mourn for the fallen Tollan, I weep for the end of that great history, my fists clench at the perfidy of man. O, what a terrible age of darkness! O, what a terrible opinion!
*Even though IOTL the Mexica had become the dominant force in central Mesoamerica (which time will tell if the Triple Alliance gets that big ITTL), everyone not close by just kept calling them the Culhua after the traditionally dominant polity of the Valley of Mexico. Since they also absorbed that title that further linked them to the Toltecs, the Mexica welcomed the connection.
**West and north, respectively.
Last edited: