Roark

Introduction

Taxonomy

Kingdom: Animalia
Phylum: Chordata
Superclass: Hexapoda
Class: Vespertiliosauria
Order: Batrachonychterides
Family: Chorocephalidae
Genus: Concordapteryx
Species: Resonans

And now, dear reader, we come at last to the final essay concerning the seven Peoples of Arborea. In the paragraphs that follow, I shall endeavor to introduce you to the Roark: a singular and fascinating species which may well be the most vital element in the creation and maintenance of Arborean civilization. Their choirs provide the ever-present undertone of their communities, while their prodigious mental gifts bind the disparate peoples together, carrying communication across vast distances and offering counsel and caution in equal measure whenever either is required. It is my sincere belief that the Roark and their choirs form the true foundation upon which the civilization of the People rests, and that without these remarkable beings there could exist no singular society wrought from such disparate components.

Nomenclature

The taxonomic categorization of the Roark was no simple matter, for there is little within the system of my own world to which they may be cleanly compared. The first stages, at least, proved straightforward enough; following the pattern established by the other Peoples possessed of a spine and six limbs, I have assigned them to the Kingdom Animalia, the Phylum Chordata, and the Superclass Hexapoda. Beyond this point, however, the task became considerably more difficult.

Unlike the other winged species of the People, the Roark possess neither feathers nor any of the qualities that would place them within the Class Gryphaviformes. Instead, they are clothed in dark, rubbery skin and possess membranous wings stretched between their foremost and hindmost limbs. For these characteristics, together with several additional adaptations essential to powered flight, I have devised the Class Vespertiliosauria.

From there I turned my attention to the structure of their skulls and their extraordinary vocal anatomy, and, comparing them to those creatures I believe to be their distant evolutionary cousins, I placed them within the Order Batrachonychterides, alongside several other wide-mouthed, toothless species possessed of large, protruding eyes and a remarkable vocal range.

For their Family, I looked inward rather than outward: to the astonishing psychic gifts of the Roark, which eclipse even the considerable abilities common throughout Arborea, and to the choirs such gifts make possible. Thus I assigned the name Chorocephalidae. The Genus Concordapteryx followed naturally, distinguished by the enhancement of these communal faculties and by the gestalt behavior they enable, if indeed the creation of a shared mind may properly be termed a group behavior at all.

Finally, I have assigned to them the species name Resonans, both for the audible and psychical resonances they produce within their choirs and for the harmonies they create throughout the greater society of Arborea.

And thus it is that I present to you the scientific name of the Roark: Concordapteryx Resonans.

First Impressions

When I first entered the community of Highmarket aboard Odysseus' balloon-ship, it was near the middle of the Arborean day, and thus few of the Roark were awake. I caught only the faintest glimpses of shadowed forms hanging inverted within the hollow chambers of Highmarket's Tree, and at first I could not determine whether the creatures I espied were members of the People or merely one of the many domesticated animals employed by them.

It was only when the light faded from The Clouds and the living illuminations of the Arborean night emerged that I experienced my first true encounter.

It began, as so many things among the Roark do, with a sound. First came a single chirping croak, then a dozen, then a hundred, and finally countless others besides. The common name I have bestowed upon them is but a pale approximation of one of the more recognizable sounds they produce, for their full vocal range is extraordinary beyond description. The night became filled with an alien cacophony of chirps, bellows, whistles, croaks, and other sounds for which human language possesses no proper names, extending both above and below the limits of my hearing.

These cries were soon joined by the beating of great leathery wings in the darkness as the choir took flight, and I found myself subjected to the most intense sensation of psychical examination I have ever endured. I later learned that the choir had been aware of my presence even in their sleep, and that my arrival had already been discussed within their collective dream-state. At the time, however, I knew nothing of the astonishing concordance these minds could achieve.

They perceived far more of me in those first moments than I could possibly have understood of them. Presently they selected one among their number to emerge from the communion and represent the choir before me. Thus it was that a Roark, smaller than many of its fellows, descended to the branch before me and fixed me with the most penetrating gaze I have ever encountered.

She, for this individual was female, proved a true adept of the telepathic arts, and her greeting conveyed curiosity, caution, and a sincere desire for peaceful coexistence. I confess that I faltered for a moment. Delicate though her touch had been, the force of her psychic gift so exceeded my own that I felt momentarily staggered by the contact. Yet I recovered myself sufficiently to return her greeting with due grace, communicating that I too possessed curiosity, and a desire for harmonious relations.

In time she would select from my own recollections the name Minerva for herself, and by that appellation I shall refer to her henceforth.

Anatomical Description

The Roark are, as I have already noted, six-limbed creatures clothed in dark skin whose texture lies somewhere between leather and rubber. Their central bodies are compact, rarely extending more than a span from the crown of the head to the termination of the spine. Their limbs, however, are extraordinarily elongated, often measuring three or even four times the length of the torso itself.

Their foremost and hindmost limbs anchor vast membranous wings, while the middle pair is dedicated entirely to manipulation. During flight these arms are folded tightly against the body, only extending once the creature has landed and wishes to employ them.

In the air they are graceful almost beyond belief, though considerably less elegant upon the ground. They rarely walk upright, preferring instead to crawl upon the bark using the four limbs that support their wings whenever the distance to be traversed is too short to justify flight. When at rest, they habitually hang inverted from branches or from the hollow chambers within the trunks of the Trees. Their hind claws are marvels of natural engineering, locking into the wood with admirable security. Indeed, their structure is such that the creature's own weight strengthens the grip, so that muscular effort is required not to cling, but rather to release their hold.

Their heads are broad and squat, bearing two large eyes set high upon the skull. These eyes protrude somewhat from the head and are typically amber in hue, possessing a faint luminosity that lends them a singular beauty. Their pupils form horizontal slits capable of dilating into near-perfect circles encompassing almost the entire visible surface of the eye.

The mouth is wide and entirely toothless, and the tongue both long and flexible. They are capable of opening the jaws to an unnerving degree, swallowing food far too large to seem possible for a creature of their dimensions. They possess no true tail, although the body terminates in a small triangular nub which suggests to my eye the vestige of such an appendage in some distant ancestor.

Lifespan and Reproduction

When discussing the lifespan of the Roark, one must first determine precisely what is meant by survival. The individual members of a choir commonly live for two or three score years, yet the Roark themselves consider this of secondary importance compared to the endurance of the choir as a collective entity.

When the Roark enter communion, they surrender their individual identities to form a gestalt consciousness composed of all participants within the choir, and this shared being is regarded by them as the more significant and enduring state of existence. Depending upon one's philosophical inclination, such entities may be regarded either as fleeting, since they dissolve and reform many times over the course of a day, or as effectively immortal, since they retain continuity of identity despite the continual exchange of constituent individuals.

I confess I cannot say with certainty which interpretation is the more accurate, particularly as the precise composition of a choir may shift from moment to moment as individuals enter and depart the shared mind. Suffice it to say that while the biological components of the communion are mortal, the memories and personality of the gestalt endure for astonishing spans of time, carried continuously within the shifting minds of its participants.

Thankfully, their biological reproduction is simpler to describe. Like most Arborean life, they are oviparous and reproduce sexually between two distinct sexes. Following mating, both partners undergo a remarkable physiological alteration in which the skin along the back thickens into a gelatinous substance. When the female lays the eggs, generally two at a time, each parent embeds one egg into this living medium, which subsequently hardens somewhat and secures the egg firmly in place.

The eggs remain thus for thirty-five to fifty days, faintly visible beneath the translucent flesh of their parents' backs, before hatching into tiny limbless creatures bearing little resemblance to the adult form. Yet even then they do not emerge. Instead, they remain beneath the skin, feeding upon the nutritive substance surrounding them while breathing through a minute external opening.

After a further thirty days or thereabouts they emerge fully from the parent's back, by which point their elongated limbs are already developing at a prodigious rate. Most attempt their first flight within a day of this emergence.

Throughout much of their gestation the offspring are telepathically active and exist in constant communion with their parent. Through this connection they are carried into the collective consciousness of the choir itself, only achieving true mental individuality once they have fully emerged. By this stage they possess intellectual sophistication far beyond that of most infant creatures, having absorbed great quantities of knowledge and memory during their development. Indeed, by the age of a single year, I could no longer reliably distinguish juvenile Roark from mature adults.

Mental Qualities

To describe the Roark as gregarious would be a profound understatement. Even when functioning as discrete individuals, they remain in continual telepathic contact with others of their choir. This may not always be apparent to the eye, for they do not constantly gather in visible flocks as the Avara do, yet their psychic sensitivity allows them to maintain these connections across distances far beyond the capacity of any other People.

When gathered in close proximity, they frequently abandon individuality altogether, forming gestalt entities composed of dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of minds. The choir of Highmarket alone consisted of several hundred individuals in communion, and I was assured this was modest by Arborean standards.

Such continual mental networking renders it exceedingly difficult to judge the capabilities of an isolated Roark. When separated from their fellows for prolonged periods, they appear strangely diminished, capable only of relatively simple tasks. Whether this reflects genuine cognitive limitation or merely profound unfamiliarity with solitude, I cannot say. In practice, they instinctively respond to complexity by extending themselves outward into communion with others, bringing the intellect of the choir to bear upon the matter at hand.

Conversation with them is therefore a singular experience. At any moment, the individual with whom one speaks may suddenly give way to a greater communal intelligence as more members of the choir lend their attention to the exchange.

All of this is intimately connected to their extraordinary psychic gifts. Like all The People of Arborea, the Roark are telepathic, but they have elevated this faculty to astonishing heights. They are exquisitely sensitive to mental activity and frequently cultivate their talents through disciplined practice. Among their most common abilities is the capacity to communicate across immense distances with individuals well-known to them personally, allowing messages to pass between distant communities with remarkable efficiency.

Yet such sensitivity carries dangers of its own. Several Arborean predators, most notably the Feliscyllidae, have evolved the capacity to broadcast violent pulses of telepathic noise capable of stunning or disorienting prey. The Roark are especially vulnerable to such attacks and may be struck senseless in mid-flight, tumbling directly into the predator's grasp. Their superior perception allows them to detect hostile minds at far greater distances than most creatures can manage, yet vigilance, however refined, is never perfect.

Beyond telepathy, few preternatural gifts manifest commonly among the Roark. Those that do are generally the more intangible faculties, especially Clairvoyance and Precognition, both rare among the other Peoples. The more physical talents such as Telekinesis, Pyrokinesis, and Aerokinesis are uncommon among them. Likewise, there exists no known record of a Roark manifesting Thaumokinesis, though I suspect that were such a phenomenon ever to occur, the matter would remain confined within the choir itself, lest it disrupt the social conventions governing magical practice among the People.

Social Organization

The Roark organize themselves into choirs, which function less as social groups than as vast composite individuals. A choir generally shares a communal nesting site, within which the entire population rests through the daylight hours before emerging at night to undertake the countless labors necessary to sustain the community.

They do not appear to possess leaders or hierarchies in the ordinary sense, any more than separate organs within the human body may be said to govern one another. I have heard occasional tales of choirs divided against themselves, though such events resemble mental illness far more closely than civil conflict. Resolution typically comes through schism, with the divided choir separating into distinct communal minds no longer burdened by internal contradiction.

On a broader scale, however, the choirs themselves participate in a kind of higher social order. I may inadvertently have conveyed the impression that the Roark exist in a state of perfect harmony without limit or exception, but this is far from true. Entire choirs may harbor grudges lasting centuries, maintain rivalries of immense complexity, or develop philosophical disagreements so profound as to render reconciliation impossible.

Indeed, the choirs engage in relationships remarkably similar to those pursued by individual persons, including alliances, friendships, partnerships, and enmities. Arborean history contains accounts of vast conflicts conducted between rival choirs over centuries that might rival the wars of humanity in both scale and devastation.

Societal Role

The Roark are, in many respects, the connective tissue of Arborean civilization. They bind communities together, bridge the communicative gulf between the disparate Peoples, and provide the coordination necessary for so intricate a society to endure.

Within most settlements, the choir serves as a guiding intelligence, bringing its collective wisdom to bear upon communal problems and directing the talents of individuals toward productive ends. More than any other People, the Roark are invested in preserving the specialized social roles assigned to each species, regarding such divisions as essential to the survival and stability of the whole.

To my human sensibilities, however, this philosophy can appear unsettlingly indifferent to the desires of the individual. The Roark seem concerned primarily with the welfare of the collective entity, and those who fail to conform to the expectations of the community may find themselves quietly isolated or outcast.

In their dealings with the other Peoples, the Roark are generally most at ease with the Bohra and the Avara: with the former because they share the nocturnal hours and maintain frequent contact, and with the latter because the gregarious temperament of the Avara harmonizes naturally with the communal inclinations of the choirs.

Their greatest tensions arise with the Kouatl, who are deeply uncomfortable with the Roark's perceptive powers and relative disregard for secrecy. Relations with the remaining Peoples vary considerably by individual circumstance, though the Mycora frequently delight in treating themselves as equivalent to an entire choir, a habit which the Roark often find profoundly vexing.

Notable Individuals

During my time in Arborea, I became well acquainted with the choir of Highmarket, and especially with Minerva, who remained their principal representative to me throughout my stay.

She was an exceptionally gifted telepath and also possessed formidable talents in both Clairvoyance and Precognition. These abilities proved invaluable during my investigations, for she frequently accompanied Odysseus and myself upon our travels, guiding us toward rare phenomena she had foreseen through her psychic arts. Without her assistance, I should have witnessed only a fraction of the wonders I ultimately observed during my two years among the Trees.

Yet despite my respect for Minerva and her choir, I cannot say that I ever became wholly comfortable in their presence. At any given moment I might be speaking either to Minerva herself or to some broader communal intelligence expressing itself through her. More troubling still was the profound subordination of the individual to the collective that permeated all Roark thought.

Even my own preservation was justified to them not by any intrinsic worth of my person, but because the knowledge I gathered was deemed useful to the scholars of my home realm. I was protected, certainly, but as a valuable instrument rather than as an individual life possessed of inherent significance.

Conclusion

And thus, dear reader, we come at last to the conclusion of our exploration of The People of Arborea. I hope these essays have proven enlightening, and that you now possess a fuller understanding of the seven distinct species that together compose that extraordinary civilization.

In the next section we shall turn our attention to the many other inhabitants of Arborea that do not belong among the People: from the monstrous Telatextrices to the magnificent Ouranoketoi, and all the myriad forms of life dwelling between The Clouds above and The Webs below.

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