The purpose of this piece is to introduce the Viashino of Zu. I don't have any sort of guide to Zu prepared, as it is a plane that has grown more through my various revisions to the piece that I had originally posted here. In designing the Viashino, I have created three separate species: Zilahri, Krokavak, and Molokenko. This piece features the Viashino Zilahri.

It is evident that the Ratkin have been through here: the vibrant membrane-covered scaled Viashino Zilahri hides hanging from the wooden walls surrounding the verdant catacombs, the still-moving Zilahri lashed to stakes set in the ravaged crops within the wooden walls, and the cooked remains of the Zilahri are a testament to the rats' self-loathing. Beneath the sweet, rotting taste of the Zilahri blood is an earthy musk that reminds Sah of the early days when the beast gods roamed the world of Zu. Other tastes tell Sah that these Zilahri were slaughtered during their basking and dragged to the foothills for reasons known only to the Ratkin.

The Ratkin pinkies try to camouflage themselves by changing their rituals to mimic our own, Sah thinks, and they clearly realize that they have failed on every level. Why else would they forgo the confrontation ritual for the slaughter? He flicks the air with his forked tongue, seeking the earthy tastes for confirmation of the beast gods’ involvement.

A bellowing cuts through the cool stillness of the morning. Sah turns to see the other Zilahri have recoiled from a pair of styrakoderms. The three-horned, neck-frilled lizards thrash swing their heads at one another, grasp nearby branches with their curling tails and swing away from incoming hits and throw themselves at one another. One of them throws down the other and moves atop it, pinning it with the grasping digits of its forelimbs and its muscular tail. With a bellow the victor tears into the abdomen of the loser, giving off a taste of hunger that clings to Sah’s forked tongue.

“Styrakoderms are not pack reptiles,” says the Reptile King. His red eyes regard Sah from within the styrakoderm head that he has taken as a helmet. An armor of ankyloderm diamond-scales cover his mottled brown and green hide, interlocking so that it is impossible for Sah to taste the Reptile King’s emotions. The Reptile King’s red eyes are turned from Sah at the hisses, roars and lowing of the other styrakoderms.

Sah follows his gaze to see that the other Zilahri have recoiled into the brown and green seas of bramble, mosses, and clawlike trees to either side of the path. Directly in the path, the styrakoderms are ravaging one another. Their emotions are simple: hunger, disgust at the taste of their enemies’ flesh as they root for the partially-digested plant matter, forage, and mate. As they indulge their emotions, Sah hears a series of thumps and rattles from the hidden Zilahri. Sweet, heavy tastes tickle his tongue, setting his tale to an involuntary series of deep thumps while his neck wattle begins to swell.

The sounds tell Sah that the Zilahri have begun the tests of dominance and that some are already mating over the remains of the defeated. Turning to seek out a weaker male, Sah sees them amid the rising and falling hills to either side of the path: small Ratkin, nimble as if adapted to life in the jungle canopies with the swollen abdomens and throats of those seeking to establish dominance. He drops to all fours, caresses them with his tongue, feeling and tasting life’s struggle against death’s depredation. Just beneath his brown scales, Sah feels the parasite coiling and stirring from the Zilahri mating rituals and the chance to heal the defeated.

Take your nourishment, Sah thinks as he plunges his talons into the soft soil, shifting the scales to reveal pores through which the parasite’s root-hairs sample the servants of rot and rebirth. Neurovines from the parasite twine with the nerves of the Zilahri, lit by the multitude of flavors: humans that sampled the herds kept sacred by the Zilahri now host to the thallids cultivated in the styrakoderms, Zilahri and styrakoderms in the process of bacterial colonization…it fed the parasite, which released factors to soften Sah’s hide. From the softened patches came cords of muscle supporting a membrane whose veins were transits of black and green mana, constricting to send it to the hooked appendages that dragged the ground.

“Is your display of Zilahri-mastery worth it?” the Reptile King said to Sah. You promise us the sorceries taken from us by the Ahrikurzu dragon elders through your parasite’s deception. His armor shielded him from the primal urges that drove the rest of his kind. His head was turned to the trail-turned-breeding ground where the victors made meals of the defeated while their mates snorted out freshly fertilized Zilahri eggs. All of them were looking to Sah with his parasitic-wings spread wide. He did not see them scuttling back, showing their underbellies and retracting their wattles before Sah. The Reptile King looked through the eyes of the tyrannaxes in the northern marshes, the cerodons in the farmsteadlands, and the wild styrakoderms: the Ratkin were calling their beast gods.

Withdrawing from the reptiles, the Reptile King looks back to Sah and sees him sinking the hooked ends of his parasitic dragon-wings into the dead Ratkin.

Beneath the shadow of Sah’s wings, the pinkies begin to twitch and jerk while the other Zilahri take up a perimeter around the ritual of rebirth. Cold winds blowing from the north bring death to the vibrant green, pink, and purple remnants of the jungle. Carried on the winds is a taste of musk and animal fat with an undercurrent of the Ratkin’s fear.

Hey, Cateran.

I've read through this, and I think your sentence construction is pretty good, and you clearly have a consistent sense of tone, both of which are good to have. That being said, maybe it's me, or my mood at the time, but I honestly couldn't get into this one at all. For me, the single biggest problem is that everything in this piece seems to be an unexplained metaphor, so much so that I'm honestly not sure I even know what's happening.

For example, take your first four words "The Entropy Kilin broods". Okay, well, "the" is self-explanatory. I know what "entropy" means, but because it's capitalized, I'm assuming you're using it as a proper noun, like it's a specific kind of thing. And what's that thing? A "Kilin." This may be showing my ignorance, but I had no idea what this was until reaching your terminology at the end. Therefore, I have absolutely no visual. In MTG, there is a Krakilin, and Kamigawa had several creatures known as Kirin, and then you tell me its a dragon. I have no idea what it is, let alone what an Entropy Kilin is. Then you use the word "broods," which can either be a plural noun or a verb depending on context, but because you've already thrown us off with "Entropy Kilin," we have no idea what that context is.

Another problem with the term "Kilin" is that you then continually use "kiln" as one of your primary metaphors, a mere one letter off from the word we don't seem meant to know. Also, the constant repetition of words gets a little distracting, like this line: "Taking the dead metal after speaking my findings to a stick-thin piece of material that translates for my muse-material, I leave the muse-material..." One, I still have no earthly idea what's happening, and two, the constant use of "material" here is very distracting for me.

Like I said, it could just be the day, but I wasn't able to get into this whatsoever. Sorry.

Thanks for posting, though!

Thank you for this rather thoughtful review. I set this aside after having posted it here and considered where to go next with this viashino. Rereading it, I do see where some of my wording could be changed to better reflect the viashino's connection to red. For example, "material" could just as easily be "catalyst," which feels more red...I associated "catalyst" with Bunsen burners. I think "material" would fit better with a blue individual.

Now I will turn my attention to some of the similar-sounding terminology. Kilin and kiln: I did derive Kilin from "kiln," and the "Sark" prefix from "Sarkani", which is Norwegian for dragon. Simply bringing in "dragon" or "primal dragon" for Kilin and Sarkilin respectively would add a bit more clarity. With this change, the opening line would read "The Entropy Dragon broods..." which does give a clearer picture. The dragon itself is not actually present. The viashino believes that it sees the dragon within the landscape of Vurakkedi. In this story, the kiln is a growth made from the viashino's scales and blood. It gives the tail a club-like appearance, and is used for spellcasting.

On metaphors: As stated, my goal is to let us see the landscape of Vurakkedi from a viashino's perspective. I wanted to avoid a piece where the viashino comes across as interchangeable with a human. This is the source of the abundance of metaphors; I didn't think that lizardfolk would view the world through the same lens as a human. I believe that the best criticism for this piece is would be any advice and/or suggestions on how to cut back my excess of metaphors while maintaining a uniquely unhuman perspective.

I definitely see where you're coming from with the non-human aspect, and I don't necessarily disagree with that choice. After all, Barinellos did a very interesting "alien" mindset piece with his Ooze character "I" that I think went well. All I'm saying is that I, personally, am human, and found it very difficult to know what this non-human was talking about. Every time you mentioned the "forge," for instance, I assumed it was a metaphor for the narrator's heart.

But as you said, it's an experiment, and I certainly appreciate experimentation.

Cateran, I promise I'll add something to the conversation at some point, but I've been putting off both this and the thing I am working on for you as well because I've been too busy to give you a constructive review.

I will say though, that at a glance, there is a small problem in terms of canon entirely dealing with the Elder Dragon since... well, that can't really be a thing anymore. I mean, I know it's an experiment, but it sticks out, the same as with the Kirin/Kilin thing. Particularly as Kilin IS an acceptable substitute for Kirin (which by all means should really be Qilin in the first place.) given the nature and construction of the source language.

Take your time, Barin. My grandfather passed away around Christmas six years back. Thanks for sticking with the other stuff.

I've revised the OP yet again. This time I added a bit on the driving force behind what we would see as bloodlust and savagery in the viashino.

I must agree with Raven. As a human, I have no frame of reference to understand this. I think Xenofiction is a very interesting concept, but it must still be written with a human audience in mind. The way I've seen it done very well is not by going all-out for strangeness, but by combining the mundane and the exotic.

I'm not sure if I'm making myself clear here. Here's an example of (part of) a story written from the perspective of a dog. (Spoilers for Worm.) See how it bases itself in human experience, but making it clear how the experience of the dog differs from what we're used to? It also plays around with sentence-length, but that's not applicable everywhere.

Here's another example from the same story. This time with a completely alien character. This still conveys the non-human-ness, but uses the third-person omniscient narration to still keep this alien being rooted in human experiences.

If you want to write xenofiction in first-person, you basically need to cheat in one of two ways (I think). One is showing events we're already familiar with through an alien lens. This doesn't work in stories as short as this one, so I won't explain further. The second way of cheating is to write the story from a roughly human perspective, and modify that baseline over several iterations, each iteration being "weirder" than the earlier one. Repeat until you cross the line into "too alien."

What I (personally) would do for this piece is making the vocabulary a bit easier (more mundane) while making the emotions and perceptions more alien.

Thank you Yxoque; I've started revising following that second example. This is what inspired me to try my hand at xenofiction, and is what I've been using as my model. I think it touches on the points that you mention in your critique. Let me show you what I have for another piece, this time from an aven's perspective. My goal, with this short preview, is to keep up the alien narrative while giving us a lens through which to view and understand what's going on:

I quite enjoy the imagery in this. Certainly offers a rather primal, poetic mindset.

Thank you, that's one of my goals! What aspects of my entry didn't work for you, or could be improved?

Well, I can't think of any flaws that come up to my mind. Any problems I have come simply from not being my preffered style of narrative, not from legitimate problems.

At any point does it sound like I'm repeating myself?

Here are my two problems with this piece -- the first of which may be my own prejudice/preference -- one, at no point during the reading do I have any earthly idea what is going on, and two, some of the terms you use seems to suggest the story is science fiction rather than high fantasy and/or Magic in particular.

Like Yxoque, I think you need to ground it a little in terms (or at the very least sentence structure) that we, as a human audience, can understand. If I can also use your first sentence as an example, like Raven did:

To begin with, the same problem of "broods" being either a verb or a noun without context persists (and especially so since the verb form could be referring to two separate and distinct acts), and I would argue that's an objective problem that should be changed or clarified. Secondly, the sentence just runs on confusingly without commas or other punctuation to break it up. I really commend you on your word choice -- the phrase "burning rivers of tar" is wonderfully poetic, and it's not often I see words like "turgid" -- but since you're already throwing me off-balance with your alien perception the metaphors and colorful language largely falls flat since I have nothing to compare it to. Also, I feel I should point out that traditionally calderas are lakes that have formed inside volcanic craters, and that I don't think that's what you were actually trying to describe.

Like I said, though, the above might just be my personal preference toward more grounded stories with a minimum of abstraction, but I feel like you could hook me if you went through a few iterations of editing. Right now, since there's nothing for me to latch on to, I flounder the whole way down and feel like I am incapable of grasping it.

Now for number two: you use a lot of terms that are not normally found in Magic fiction, and suggest a science fiction bent. Words like "inframana lenses", "three-chambered volcano", "phase blades", and "prostheses". The word "entropy" is slightly troubling, but it can be worked with and you seem to have some meaning for it beyond the base word, but a lot of your word choice leads me to believe you're depicting a rather high level of technology, at least comparable to the Izzet from Ravnica.
To go through each in turn:

• "inframana lenses" - First, that doesn't make much sense. "Below/underneath mana"? From what little I can gather, your narrator is seeing mana flow, so adding the prefix "infra-" wouldn't be necessary. Second, while the prefix "infra-" does come from Latin, it carrie some connotations with it that make it feel very modern, with common words like "infrared" being a rather new discovery (yes, I'm counting a 200-year-old discovery as "new").
• "three-chambered volcano" - From the context, I might assume that this could be referring to your narrator's heart? I bring it up because I don't think it's a huge stretch to think you're referring to some sort of gun here.
• "phase blades" - I feel this one's inclusion should be relatively obvious, especially when you describe the tools as "shifting to gas". It has a very sci-fi feel to it.
• "prostheses" - Another tricky one due to its Greek roots, but it is definitely not a word which was used much until relatively recently when we began to make prostheses that were actually useful. Especially since you say "iron prostheses", which implies multiple prostheses that are in use. With Magic's flexible use of artifacts, I could buy it, but I have the same problem of context as before: you don't actually describe them so I don't know just what I'm dealing with and my brain defaults to a more modern example.

I don't think any of these words/phrases need to be changed, per se, but like I was saying before, it turns me away rather than drawing me in and I feel you could draw me in provided you gave me proper context.

I think this uses more fantasy lingo and less SFesque terminology. I've tried to purge the useless metaphors.