General Player Species Info (Quoted info is official.)
* Reminder that this is just supposed to be baseline things for making NPCs. Also that any long-term City-dweller likely is farther from these roots.
Human
- Tumai humans live at the Red Wall and rarely in the desert between it and the City. Their technology and style is closer to Ssashirkkian.
- Humans are not native to Terran-se. Their technology tends range be Gaslamp Victorian England to Medieval Europe.
- Humans in the city tend to have, at best, diesel-punk technology.
- Primarily speak Common.
- Human Story (Written by Spirit for v3)
She adjusted the goggles over her head, and made sure that the buttons on her vest were tightly secured. Shifting her legs over the leather seat, she let herself slide forward as the machine growled it's pleasure at being allowed to run forward. She turned the handle left and right, moving along slowly (or at least in her opinion), sure to not strike any people walking along the cobblestone street as she rode her motorbike toward her favorite store. She passed by couples wandering on foot, soldiers standing guard at street corners, and a few of the more wealthy riding their own mounts through the street. Overhead, a member of the aerial cavalry rested mounted upon his Sarane while it perched upon a ledge of the clocktower - gazing watchfully over the city with it's dragon eyes. She even passed the steam-run trolley along her way.
Once she reached her destination, she parked by the wooden beams at the store's front windows. This is where normally folks would tie their steeds to the post, or in her case, tie her motorbike. As she tethered it to help prevent theft, she noticed the onlookers stare in awe as she worked. Indeed, her "steed" was a rarity - an "import" of sorts from the Kapper master-tinkers. It's brass and copper parts shining in the sunlight, as opposed to the dappled fur of the mule on her left, or the marbled hide of the chiryma on her right. True, hers was a rarity (though not unheard of), but it was more due to expense... not the initial expense - but the upkeep was a pain.
Once her exotic contraption was properly secured, she wandered her way into the store, peering briefly in through the glass-paned windows before entering the wooden door. The bell attached to the door frame chimed merrily as she entered, and the store (like most) had it's wooden floors creak beneath her boots. What was different about this store from most, is it wasn't run by a Human or even Ersatz. It was run by a Kapper. Those little creatures were usually associated with mischief, but this one had earned a bit of respect in the city - but respect wasn't quite enough to prevent his business being hurt by his peoples' reputation.
He stood on top of the countertop, as if he stood on the floor, he wouldn't even be able to see over it to view his customers. His muzzle curled into a toothy smile, and his yellow eyes seemed almost to light up, "Ah, if it's not one of my favorite customers! What can I do for you today? More oil? A new gasket, perhaps?"
She smiled back to him. How sad, that most others of her kind looked upon him so poorly. "I need more feood for it, honestly, I'm running low. Oh, and to sign up for another class as well, if you've the time."
He chuckled to himself, "Fuel, my dear, not food... or feood for that matter - but yes, I've plenty in stock. As for the class, I'm a bit booked this week, have a set of pocket-watches I'm to make - the nobles are having something of a party, and wanted to give out some rather expensive favors for it."
"Very well, just the fuel then, and I'll try back next week for the class." After paying for her tin cans of noxious liquid to feed her metallic steed, she placed them in her backpack, and headed out to mount up again. After she fed it, she made her way toward the town's barracks - she had a friend she was due to visit.
-----
Jax paced the room, his leather boots making soft noises on the stone. Gods, where was she? In the corner of the room, his hound lifted it's head, and grumbled it's protest to his constant pacing. Didn't she have one of those contraptions that everyone as so fond of? With all the gears and nonsense? It was certainly time for her to arrive - HE could tell that, just look at the sun! He glanced his head out the window, the breeze causing the elaborate embroidered curtains to flutter about - and sure enough, the sun almost directly above the keep. Yes, about noon, why did she take so long? The hound finally sighed and laid it's head back down, satisfied in knowing that it's master had little intent to stop his fretting. Honestly, she showed up at least once per month, and he always did this.
Then he heard it - the familiar sound of her contraption roaring in the distance. He could tell it's own sound to be different from all the other forms of motors that competed with the horses on the streets below. He could just imagine the women in their dresses and breeches, whispering to themselves about the terrible amount of smoke the monstrosity made - and then he could hear the horses of his keep's stables whinny and cry out their protest at having such a thing 'park' itself in a nearby stall with them. Once it's engine finally cut out, he turned and faced the door.
He shuffled on his feet, and shifted his belt. He adjusted his vest, making sure the buttons lay in a perfect row down his middle, and the cuffs on his sleeve were indeed snapped together. He adjusted his collar, and smelled his breath in the cup of his hand, and quickly patted down his hair. Any moment now, she'd be walking through that door. The dog sighed again.
-----
As she parked at the keep, she had one of the keep's servants offer to watch her motorbike, an Erstaz, like most. She just simply wished it to be kept in a stall, and as long as it wasn't molested, it would be just fine to care for itself - it required no grooming (she'd polish it later when she got home). As she walked up to the door, she was greeted by another Ersatz servant, who quickly took off his cap and bowed at her as he opened the door for her, "M'lady." He hastily murmured, and she chipperly responded, "Good afternoon!" This seemed to catch him off guard, but then he smiled at her. After entering, another servant offered to take her long-coat, which she accepted - and at that point she noticed several of the soldiers stationed there, relaxing in the lounge had halted their previous action of cards and brew to stare at her while she handed her coat to the servant. This unsettled her a little, but she just held her head higher, and strode with an air of confidence - she was here for one man, and their stares wouldn't effect her.
At least it wouldn't until she began up the stone staircase, and she could hear and feel them leaning back in their chairs to watch her as she departed. Once she reached the top, she could hear a few of them whispering to one another and chuckling - one of them gave a low whistle. Bastard soldiers.
On her way down the hallway, she passed by Bernard, a soldier she recognized - one of Jax's friends, the one who (if she recalled correctly) had a reputation of having one of the keep's servants depart his room in the wee hours of the morning. Because of the relentless jests of the other boys in the keep, he usually kept to himself and out of the lounge - but at least Jax was on good terms with him. She smiled and nodded to him, and he gave her a friendly nod in return - one of the few men in the keep who didn't stare at her below her neck.
She took one more right turn in the hallway, and finally reached the heavy oaken door that had the number 37 carved into it. It (being on the top floor) was one of the better rooms, a private room only given to those higher in rank - and often she wondered if he had earned the rank, or if it was given to him because of his father. It didn't much matter to her however, he'd always been her friend, and always will be.
------
She didn't even bother knocking. He'd almost expected her to knock, but after all these years, he wondered why. Instead, she just simply opened the door and barged her way in with a wide grin, the goggles on her forehead having left smudges around her eyes where they used to be, "Oh" she said as she quickly glanced around the room, "I almost expected you to be busy bedding with some wild woman in here! How surprising for you to be all trussed up for me!"
He blushed quickly, and looked down to himself, shuffling briefly. "Trussed up? Hardly, this is just... just.." he couldn't seem to find the words - why was this so difficult?
"Just the finest of your clothes? I know, I've seen them all - and helped you fold them, you goose!" she put her hands on her hips defiantly, and shook her head at him with a wicked grin on her face, "And you are JUST like your father, you can't seem to tie anything properly, com'mere!" and with that, she stalked over to him, reached up, and began adjusting his collar silk - the mark of a true noble's son.
While she worked so close to him, he watched her face while she was distracted. Wonderful blue eyes. Damn. Why had it taken him so long to realize her beauty? Why had he not listened to what the other men said? Even with the dirt on her face she was a thing to behold. How could he have been so blind? He cleared his throat, and placed his hands upon her waist.
She raised and eyebrow at him, "What?" she asked skeptically.
He dared to steal a kiss.
She didn't resist.
Inwardly, he danced in victory, but outwardly, he just pressed himself further into her. After she accepted, she finally broke off the kiss with a laugh, and shoved away his chest with the palms of her hands, "What's gotten into you?"
The hound lifted it's head to watch. What was this?
Jax smiled, "I... My duty is almost complete. Within' the next month I'll be able to head out of the keep. With the money I've earned, and with that which my father's given me out of his own blessing, I thought I'd buy myself the little two-story store on the street with that creature's contraption shop."
She stared at him now, her face sober. "I thought you were staying in? And... why there? I thought you hated that place?"
This was true. He had planned on staying in the keep for a while, moving up to general eventually. And it was also true that he hated the contraptions. He much preferred the honestly and reality of a true beast, not the coughing smell or terrible noise that the bikes, motorbikes, trolleys, and other such metal things caused... and more to that, to live so close to that.. that creature she had the audacity to call a friend.. But for her..?
"I just... I just thought that... That... well, you mentioned you wanted to one day own a restaurant, what was it, exotic foods from exotic places? And... and you'd probably like to live close to that creature's junk shop... and..."
She held up her hand to stop his words in his tracks, "It doesn’t befit you to stutter, Jax." She said firmly, then gazed at him sternly with her wonderfully ocean-colored eyes, "And he's NOT a creature, and it's NOT junk."
He looked to the floor. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Loving those monsters like that. Why couldn't she be like any normal man or woman and just accept things for the way they were? Had she no sense? But he knew her well enough to know that arguing wouldn't have any effect, and considering what he was trying to accomplish at the moment (and things weren't going his way so far), he 'corrected' himself, and lied with a smile, "Of course, I'm sorry... what was his name? Kapper, the Kapper?" He barely held back the laugh he was suppressing at the stupid creature's name.
"Yes. His name is Kapper." She softened a little. This was good.
"Well," he continued with more confidence this time, reaching up to brush some of her auburn hair from her face, "I'm thinking about buying the store there because.. the top half could be a home, and... Gods, Laura." He spoke no more. Instead, he let his hand fall to her neck, and brought himself in for another kiss. Deep, passionate, and wonderful.
She seemed to melt into his embrace.
-----
Two months later, the fellow men of the keep snickered and barked their laughter at him as he packed his things. Even being a noble's son couldn't prevent him from such severe jests. The keep's servants just bowed their heads humbly as he left, and (of course) carried all of his belongings to the carriage. His hound came with him, striding faithfully at his side, and the horses and Sarane watched with curiosity as he climbed into the back of the carriage.
The women of the town gathered around in small groups, whispering and gossiping to one another. Honestly, it figures that such a charming noble-man, a fine soldier of the keep, rider of that handsome emerald drake Sarane would choose to partner with that wild beast-lover of a girl, such a filthy and wild little thing - always covered in dirt, with that noisy motor-bike of hers! Such a loss, why couldn't a handsome man like him choose a proper woman like themselves! No matter, didn't that butcher down main street give you such a wonderful smile the other day?
Kapper seemed rather pleased all around - he finally had a human customer within' a closer distance to his shop! And with such a short distance between them, perhaps he could even turn her into an apprentice of sorts!
Laura was just as pleased at this prospect, and had all of her acquaintances (who were more than happy to help) provide her with recipes from their homelands. No doubt it would be hard to convince most others with money in the city come and eat at her restaurant, but her being one of them would help - even if she was serving exotic non-human dishes.
Jax attempted his best to be friendly to the neighbors, most of which were not his kind - filthy creatures, the lot of him... but she seemed happy here, and that was good enough for him. On occasion, he'd still head out with his mount, Verda, the Drake - always had some monsters to get rid of - somebody had to keep law and order in the lands, and though she couldn't understand the source of the problem, he knew that those savages outside the city had no love of law. But while he was home, he was sure to be kind to his neighbors, kiss his wife, and invite his friends to the restaurant. Life was good. Maybe someday that silly goblin next-door would be arrested for some crime or another, gods know he's sure to have committed one - and then he could get a REAL man to move in next door.
Humanish
- Considered to have 'dirty blood' by human purists.
- Follow the same rules for technology levels as above, but purely humanish areas tend to be more akin to Renaissance Era style.
- Primarily speak Common.
- Humanish(Also called Ersatz) Story (Written by Spirit for v3)
He let his fingers pass over the charcoal drawing, and silently cursed himself immediately after for having caused a smudge across her face. He blurred her cheek, how could he have been so careless? No matter, he had it memorized, he'd fix it later. Tana. She was beautiful, but her father would never approve... not while he worked for Lord Herldic. Well, he wasn't quite a lord really, but Tana's father didn't approve of... what did he say? "Those boot-licking dogs in the city."..? Yes, he did believe that was the term he heard. As if he'd ever licked boots. As if he'd ever stoop so low! And he wasn't a dog!
"Tamil!" He heard the voice shout from down the hallway, and quickly came striding toward his lord's call, "coming" he announced himself, so his lord wouldn't become cross, wondering if he'd even heard him or not.
He entered his lord's chamber, finding him sitting at his desk, scribing some sort of document with his fountain pen. Ah, that's the source of the distress. He walked over to his lord, and smiled softly at him, lifting his hands to open the chamber of the lantern to add more oil, "Not quite light enough, eh, my lord?"
His lord made no move to acknowledge him, but instead muttered to his servant as he continued to write in the dim light from the window at a dying dusk, " 'Eh' is not a word, Tamil."
"Er, yes, my Lord.. ah, um.."
" 'is it'. It's not quite light enough, is it, my lord. Not 'eh, er, ah, or um'."
Tamil was quite for a moment, afraid that he'd use another two-letter word if he opened his mouth again in the next few seconds. Finally, when he'd returned from the storage cabinent with the flask of oil, he began to fill the lantern, "My apologies, my lord." And as he put the lantern back together, he allowed his eyes to graze over his master's writing - which caused his master to look up at him from over the rim of his spectacles. "My apologies, my lord-" he choked out, catching himself when he realized his rudeness, and quickly turned to make his leave, sweeping his way hastily out of the room to give his master much ado privacy for his writing.
His drawing fell from his pocket, and floated to the floor as he closed the door behind him.
------
Tana hit the beast square on the nose, "Enough o' that!" The creature snorted it's displeasure, snuffling snot all over her chest. "Oh, I don't care! You'll not bite again or you'll get another - now take th' harness an' stop complainin'!" The beast thought about biting her again, but ended up thinking the better of it, begrudgingly taking the harness over it's neck.
She brushed her red hair out of her face, muttering her displeasure at the wind as she picked up the plow that the great and stubborn beast before her was meant to pull, "All right then, get started." It didn't budge, instead, it just shifted it's head to look over it's shoulder at her, and snorted a fog of hot air from it's nose. "Go on, git goin'!" and she gave the leather strap a little shake, warning the beast. It decided it might be a better idea to walk forward.
They barely got half the little field plowed before her father called her in to wash up for dinner. She dropped the plow, un-strapped the harness from the beast, and let him out to pasture. She ran toward the cottage, chickens screaming and running in all different directions to avoid being trampled by her feet.
Once she entered the dimly lit house, she hastened over to the washbasin to remove the dirt from her hands, and sat at the table with her mother, the supper already set up on the table in their one-room cottage. Stag stew with potatoes and leeks, water, and boiled carrots. There was even some basil leaf over the whole thing - and they had fresh baked black-bread for dessert.
Her father finally walked in with an armful of chopped wood for the fire, and washed his own hands before snapping up a piece of paper from the basin's table, and sitting at the dinner-table. "Here," he rumbled in his graveled voice, weathered with years of hard work, "Some paper that bootlicker had delivered."
"Tamil was here?" she blinked and blushed, taking the paper from the table, unfolding it to see the crude letters scripted across it.
"That his name?" It was a question, but he didn't ask. It was more of a statement that the conversation regarding the boy was to be ended. And so it was. Instead, they all ate in relative silence, until her mother began to talk about the silly antics that the neighbor's pet had been pulling earlier that day, and they all laughed at her tale.
She regarded the letter with curiousity, happiness, and a bit of sadness... She had never learned to read.
------
After he had finished preparing dinner for his Lord, and rang the bell to call dinner-time, he disappeared into his master's chambers while he ate, sweeping the floor, organizing the desk, making the bed, dusting the curtains, and folding his sleeping clothes to prepare them for the evening.
Once his master had finished with his food and he lumbered back up the stone staircase, he turned to make his leave of the room, to hustle downstairs to polish off the leftovers (which there was always plenty of with his master - he hadn't even need to cook himself a separate meal!), but was stopped by his master when he cleared his throat, "Damnable buttons." He turned to watch him fumble with the buttons on the cuff of his sleeves, and without a second of hesitation strode over to his master and began to help him with the undressing, humming to himself while he worked.
His master chuckled at his loyalty, and finished the work once the cuffs were undone, "Thank you, Tamil." At that, Tamil considered it a dismissal, and turned to leave again, but his master spoke once more, "By the way, is this yours..?"
Tamil looked over his shoulder to see his Lord take the charcoal drawing from his vest's pocket, and he turned pale, opening his mouth to squeak and whisper his next words, "Y-yes, m'lord..." His ears drooped as he spoke, and he instantly felt shamed for it - his ears were one of the main reasons that they disliked him so, and to have them change direction made them mock him at the market. At least his master was not so cruel as to jest at him.
"Who is she?"
"Just... Just ah-"
" 'ah' is not a word." His words were firm.
"Just some girl I... I see at the market sometimes." He corrected himself.
"You didn't answer my question."
"Her name is Tana, she sells crops from her father's farmstead." He answered hastily, afraid that his voice might betray him, but it already had.
His master regarded him with a stern gaze, "I didn't give you permission for this."
"I'm sorry, m'lord." His ears drooped further. Dog. Bootlicker. The words echoed in his mind.
His master handed the drawing to him, and he hesitated in taking it - was it permitted? His master smiled just a little, but continued firmly, "You'll be going to the market on this Saturday as usual, will you not?"
"Yes." He uttered as he took the drawing.
"Will she be there?"
"... yes..." he hesitated.
"Good. Then she'll be here as our guest for dinner." He stated this as fact, and turned to crawl into bed. "The light, Tamil." He demanded.
Tamil frowned, and turned to snuff out the candles, letting the room be coated in darkness, "Her father... disapproves." He chose his word carefully.
His master grumbled, "Then I'll pay him for it."
Tamil said nothing.
Herldic said nothing.
They never spoke of that night again, for he belonged to him.
-----
It was Saturday.
Tana loved Saturdays, but her father hated them. He would always grumble at having to load their goods into the cart, grumble at having to set them up, and grumble about the humans - strutting about, not a speck of dirt on their nails, never known a day of work in their life, grumble grumble. She would always roll her eyes at his mutterings (but only when he wasn't looking) and watch with a smile at all the men and women walking about the stone (not dirt, mind you) streets of the human city. Marvel at their colorful dresses, and glittering jewelry. Marvel at how freely they could laugh. If they didn't know a day of work in their life, how was it they could afford such wonderful things? She loved the market-day.
Many patrons came to purchase her father's goods, and though he was sleeping in a wooden chair behind the stall (he was just there to guard her and their goods if things went awry), she was always there to sell with a smile. Just as well, she was better at counting than he.
Mutton, Venison, and Poultry. Carrots, Potatoes, Beets, Turnips, Radishes, and Parsnips. Basil, Rosemary, and Spearmint. She even had some beeswax candles to sell this time (was there any other kind?) that old lady Magna had asked them to sell on her behalf. She was too old to go herself, and her son had died last winter, so they were more than happy to do it for her.
Most of the customers were new faces, and even two of them were human! And as usual, one of the customers she recognized by face and name, blushing slightly as he arrived. He always came to her for their roots, but went to the huntsman, Markus, for the meat. His master preferred his wild boar, she remembered. Perhaps this time, with Venison to sell, she might be able to persuade him otherwise.
He walked stiffly this time, as opposed to his usual sweeping stride, and when he arrived at the stall, he pawed over the roots without looking at her. What was wrong? Was it something in the letter? "Good afternoon, Tamil." She smiled at him with a sweet voice, trying to hide her worry.
"Eh, hello.." he spoke softly, and then lifted his basket, "I'll need six potatoes, a dozen... that's twelve.. carrots, and three of the smaller beets.. they're the sweeter kind, right?" he thought over it for a second as she added his request to the basket, "Oh, and um... some of that basil."
"How about some venison?" she offered.
"No thank you." His gaze glanced briefly toward the hunter's stall, then he returned to her own.
"It's wild caught, fresh from the forest just this-morning, just a touch of salt.." she urged kindly.
He looked up to her, gave a sad smile, and then submitted, "All-right, we'll try some venison... just one cut, no - from that piece. What kind was it, anyway?"
She happily sliced a bit of the meat for him, wrapping it in paper to place in the basket, "It was a stag, we've also one of the antlers for sale if you want, but you... your master... doesn't seem the type to be interested in such prizes."
Prizes, meh... He glanced nervously at her father's sleeping form, "You, you get my letter?"
She blushed, "Yes."
He hesitated, "No... no thoughts?"
"No." she blushed more. She wouldn't ever dare to admit that she couldn't read. Even if she could, she couldn't possibly know that he was a bad hand, being merely a student in scripting himself. His master insisted that he learn, be above those beasts that swarm the countryside around the city.
He thought for a moment, pawing over the credits that his master had given him, and considered her for a moment living with them. It wasn't a bad life, not by any means. All the food he could want, a job, a warm hearth, clothing... He barely even had to break a sweat during the heat of the day. But then he looked to her face, to her father, thoughts of the other evening, and her father's words echoed again in the back of his brain, "dog."
He fiddled with the coins in his hands. He got paid one credit every two months. He'd saved up for a long time now, and had amassed ten credits. His Lord had given him twenty-five to help quell her father... He looked to her face, and in a moment of inspiration, "Come with me."
------
The others whispered and murmured their shock and horror at such a crime that had been committed to their neighbor, but Herldic wasn't surprised at all. How dare that little trollop leave him without permission? He wasn't a slave, true, just a servant, but how dare he?! Not only that, but he stole hard-earned money as well (a whole twenty-five credits)! Gods only know what else the little filthy-blooded beast stole!
Herldic just shook his head at their bickering, "I know, I know, but I suppose that's just an opportunity to get some new blood in my household."
Truly though, he had hoped the boy would never return. He had hoped he'd take the money, that's why he gave him such an amount. Few were so kind.
Mammalian
- 'Forest tribes (like the Mohican/Crow Native Americans)'
- Primarily speak Common as a trade language, but tend to have their own in-tribe language as well.
- Mammalian/Beast-walker Story (Written by Spirit for v3
She had tracked it this far, and she was not willing to give up. Her padded hand touched the ground where she was sure it walked, and she could see where the blades of grass had bent from it's passing. It no longer left tracks, too far from the lower part of the hills where the water sat the longest, but she knew it went this way. She was not willing to give up. She stood erect, and silently, her ears twitching in the dead air, listening for even the faintest of sounds. Nothing. Her wolf-like nose twitched, and she caught just the faintest of scents - a nutty smell, sharp, but far away. He was close now.
She kept her long tail tucked low against her legs to prevent it from rubbing against too many branches, lest they make noise, and she kept her head low as she crept toward her quarry. She would not give-- AH! She dropped noiselessly down to the ground - or so she thought - the leaves rustled. The stag in the clearing raised his head, his eyes rolling nervously as he looked for whatever might have caused the noise. He must have dismissed it in the stillness, for he lowered his head again. Perhaps he thought she was a rabbit, hah! Wouldn't that be something. Imagine, her, a frightened little rabbit... no such luck for the stag.
Her stripes hid her well, blending her into the shadows as she slowly inched her way toward him. She couldn't hear her brothers in the background, but she knew they were there - slowly surrounding him. Once she was in position, she waited. She would have him, she would. She tightened her grip around her spear - it's tip the sharpened weapon of another stag from long ago - this one.. this one would do nicely. Ready.... ready... NOW!
She leapt into the clearing, a snarl escaping from where it had been hiding deep in her throat, her teeth bared, and spear raised for the kill. The stag turned to run, but found his exit blocked by another - one of her brothers had presented himself - to help make a loose net of bodies. The stag reared on it's back feet, twisting so it could change direction, and bound in another direction only to be cut off again. It realized it's escape options were running out, and it took a bold chance - leaping between two of the walkers with a single stride, and off he went into the forest. If only he knew that their lives depended on it as well, and they would not give up so easily.
She snarled again, and heard the cries of outrage from her brothers - the growls, the roars, and the hisses. After him they ran - most with spears in their hands. She let her feet do the work, avoiding branches as she leapt over rocks, dodged around trees, ducked under overlying branches. She didn't even notice the pain when a thorny bush scraped her arm - she was after her quarry, and she would have him! Her eyes were mad with the hunt, and she could taste his fear upon the air - it stank of it. Oh how she loved that smell.
She was getting closer now, was she fast enough? Or had he slowed? No - she ran past the branch that he got his antler stuck on previously - the perfect thing to let her gain more ground upon him. Her brother got to him first. Curse him! He leapt into the air at the stag, his spear raised over his shoulder as he Screamed out his battle-cry, his white fur glistening in the moonlight, his mane flowing behind him like ribbons. The stag wheeled around on his hooves, and lowered his head. The spear missed, landing solidly in the soil - her white brother never did land. His stomach splattered on the ground, and as the stag shook his head to rid himself of the weight, his body finally fell - laying still with the rest of his organs. Curse him!
The stag snorted, fog coming from his nose, blood covering his antlers - he backed up from the body, and faced his new foe with his weapons ready. He stared directly at her - he was going to charge, she knew it! He had some fight in him, he did, ha! She would be ready to dodge his coming attack! He did charge, and as he came crashing toward her, his head lowered, she stepped to the side - but he turned his head, and caught the side of her arm as he ran past. She hissed in pain, but the scream came from him instead. She turned to look at him, and saw a spear from another brother sticking from his rump - this spear had crimson feathers tied to it - it was Golden-Back. Oh how she marveled at his skill - had he thrown the spear? He must have!
He kicked wildly into the air, sending dirt and leaves and blood everywhere as he screamed in protest from the fire that was in his haunch, just as the fire was in her arm - but she was a hunter, not some fearful stag! She would not scream as such a creature! She snarled out her fury, and leapt at the stag from the side while he was turning the other way, and brought down her spear deep within' his ribs. There was little resistance, and it slid in nicely. He gave a gurgled cry, and fell to the ground by her white-brother's body, flailing his dangerous legs in the air and against the ground. He thrashed his head, and tried to stand, but likely his body was turning to stone on the inside.
Golden-Back was here now, and she could hear her other brothers arriving as they made a terrible racket rushing toward where they lost their foe. Golden-Back grinned at her, his pearly teeth glistening in the moonlight - and drew his dagger across the stag's neck. He lay still. She clutched her arm to ease the burn, and he looked her up and down, grinning again. "Nice hunt, sister" he smirked at her - but he was not mocking her - he was... staring at her, as one would stare at a hare. She laughed nervously, "Nice throw." And just to accent her point, she punched him in the shoulder. He laughed. This is when her other brothers arrived - and the four of them together cried out their victory into the night as loudly as they could - their mourning sound reaching far into the distance - if they cried loudly enough their victory, perhaps even the shadows would hear - and he would be pleased.
Together they brought them back - the two of them. The victors (she and Golden-Back) carried the stag together, and her other brothers (Keen-Nose and Wind-Speaks) carried their dead brother, the white one, The Pale. Once they arrived back at their village, the entire town celebrated their victory - the glory of the hunt, and celebrated in mourning the death of their brother. They rubbed charcoal in the wound on her arm, and wrapped a bandage around it - she would always be able to tell of her great story of the hunt with the stag who slayed The Pale. And others would see her arm, and know this is truth.
They all danced around the fire as they sang, and cried out, drank wine of the deepest purple berries, and watched the pyre burn away the lowly flesh of their brother - his ashes floating toward the sky. They feasted on the roasted meat of the stag, and laughed as they recounted each other's adventures. The hunt was successful, the pups would be well-fed. It was a good night.
She could feel the Shadow-Born staring at her while she ate, his ice-blue eyes grazing over her form. She was afraid of him - but she dared not show it. It wasn't so much him that she was afraid of, but more of what he represented. It was twenty and three years ago that The Shadow (himself) came to their village. He claimed the best huntress the village had to offer, Azula Swift-Paw. He fancied her perhaps because of her beauty, but more likely because she was the best. Shadow favored the hunters, for he enjoyed the games. He even joined them in a hunt himself one night long ago - but that was the night he gave her a pup - oh how he favored her. But that was a long time ago when Shadow-Born was made - and she feared that The Shadow might come again and favor her... It wasn't that she feared him, but... she... she...
And that was when she noticed the hungry gaze of another. Golden-Back. Oh, how handsome he was. His belly was shadowed like the darkest of nights, his back faded to a brilliant golden brown, riddled with waving stripes. He was lean, and cut strongly - his facial features sharp, but his ears rounded... she didn't mind the ears - especially with a chest like that.. she could see the muscles ripple beneath his fur when he ran, hunted, dance. When he strode over to her boldly, his golden eyes coveting her form. She couldn't help but smiling to herself, but pretended to ignore him. At least until he so boldly swooped down and stole a kiss, licking her neck and jaw. She grinned openly at him, but pawed away his face, causing him to fall on his backside in the dirt. Everyone laughed, she smiled, and he just grinned up at her.
-------------------
Five years later was when they met another clan, the Cold-River clan. It wasn't often that the Forest-Hunter clan met with others, but the Cold-River clan was one they were on good terms with. It was then that Greylight (the huntress), her mate Golden-Back, and the beautiful pup they made together, of three years of age now met with a Fisher from the Cold-River clan. He was friendly enough - though with a spear in his hand, he held it loosely - it was perhaps because of their pup that he held such a friendly stance, but they didn't mind.
They all talked together, and gave the sign of The Shadow. They traded meats and furs that they had hunted, while the Fisher traded shells and scales and fish. They talked with one another so that the Fisher could learn how to carve a stag's antler into a sharper point than the stone he had smashed into a point, and they learned how to use the red mud to make a water-holding pot. While they happily traded and talked with one another, their pup wandered off to play.
----------------
Nasha was a pup of only three years of age. Her mind was still full of games, as it would be until she had reached well into ten years of age. She followed the butterflies that danced in the sunlight, and listened to the brook that fed into the Fisher's river. He was an odd fellow, with hardly a claw, and she wondered how he fed himself. But that thought soon left her when she saw a dragonfly - a bug she had never seen before in her short years, and chased it merrily through the leafy trees. She chased it all the way until it landed upon a rock.. which lay just before a set of scaled legs.
Her ears dropped low, and she looked up with wide golden eyes - fearful for a moment - at the great scaled man that stood before her now - a curved blade at his side, and clothes of white and cream wrapped around him. She took a step backwards, and instead of coming foreward, he leaned down and rested upon his knees - letting his hands fall limply to his legs instead of the blade's hilt, and a smile could be seen wrinkling at the corners of his eyes.
Oh, but how bold is a child of only three years of age?
"Bug!" she decided to exclaim happily, pointing with a single clawed finger at the shimmering blue creature that had it's wings spread on the stone between them.
"Yesss," the dragon-man spoke softly, "What color is it?" he asked a simple question.
"Sky?" she answered, but not quite sure if she was right.
He chucked, "Yesss, it is sky-colored."
------------
While they were talking to the Fisher, Greylight became more and more nervous.. why was she nervous? What sort of games were the fates playing at her heart - tugging on it as though they held strings it as tied to? Why is she - ... where.. where is Nasha?
This question in the back of her mind caused her, her mate, and even the stranger to go searching for the pup - calling out her name when they couldn't see her within' such a close distance. She didn't respond. The panic quickly raised from their hearts and into their throats - leaping even further into their brains. They felt like rabbits. How could this feeling fill them? Where was Nasha? NASHA!
And that's when they saw him.
The dragon, with Nasha in his arms.
Everyone froze.
Everyone except Nasha, who was picking at the scales on the dragon's face.
The hackles raised on Grey and Golden's necks, but the Fisher raised his hands to calm them, and spoke in quick, hushed tones, "This is a dragon-man, I've seen them before - Ssa'shirk they are called, and mighty warriors, use caution!" Seeing that his warning was not yet going heeded, he urged them further, "They come to trade, his sword is sheathed, breathe deep, seek peace!" he stressed out the words, and nervously glanced to the 'dragon-man' before them.
"Speak!" barked out Greylight.
The Ssashirk simply smiled at them.
"Speak!" she barked again, this time slowly wrapping her hands around her spear. Her mate was quietly possitioning himself to flank the reptile.
The Ssashirk smiled again, and spoke, "Nasha wishes to see sands and cities. I will take her." But his words were un-budging, and stated as cold fact.
All were silent.
--------
Seven years later, "Lady Nasha Scale-Friend" wanted to see more of the world than the great desert city of Tumai. She had learned all she wanted to fill her head with from the books she had been gifted, and she fiddled with the lovely emerald garmant that her mentor had given her as a new present for her growing.
She knew what year it was, for she studied the stars as she was taught to do - this was the year that Kashaam had promised to return her to her people - she barely remembered them. She wept to her tutor, begging him not to take her back - and he reminded her of the severity of breaking a deal. He intended to never commit such a crime, and it was time for her to return home.
She knew her people were fearful of strangers - and why wouldn't they be? All the books told tales of the others slaughtering and exiling their people - forcing them to live with the God of Shadows in the Dark Forests beyond the Red Wall. She knew that even now things were tense - was that not how she came to be with Kashaam? She didn't want to go back... What if they mistrusted her? What if they didn't want her? What if her parents had been killed in some hunt? Or some clan-based battle between villages?
But a deal was a deal - and Kashaam would never break a deal. It was time for Nasha to go home.
Ungulates
- 'Peaceful plain-nomad tribes (like Comanche Native Americans)'
- Primarily speak Common as a trade language, but tend to have their own in-tribe language as well.
- Ungulate/Panite Story (Written by Spirit for v3)
It was in the time of the flowering seeds that Alou loved the best, for that was the time of the dance - the time when every tribe would gather together in a great moot and the younger members would dance together, leaping around the great flames of the pyre to the music thrummed by the elders - and hopefully, so hopefully for a young fawn such as herself, find love; a man to make her his. She would always see her elder tribe-sisters prepare for this time of year, weaving together new skirts of long-grasses, braiding together crowns of branbles and flowers, and giggling amongst themselves as they uttered terrible and humerous whisperings about the young men they hoped to see there at the moot that year. She was yet too young herself, but how she loved to listen, clutching her sweetgrass doll shaped of a gazelle to her chest as she watched tentatively with large brown eyes.
But it was not that time of year. It was the time of the fire-grass. The time of the hunt. The time for men. She hated this time of year. Work was the hardest here, for she had to help her mother and father in the cradle for seeds, gathering them, and grinding them by hand with the stone her mother had saved all these years just for that purpose. It was a good stone, a magic stone, and made the seed good for eating, easier to bake into a flatbread. This was also the rare time of year when fires outside the homes were forbidden, lest the ancestors become furious in this time of work, and choke out all the tribe in their flames. It was a time of little play. And yet it was the time for men. She hated this the most.
----
Dourhe had awaited for his time to come for many years. And this year in particular he was most excieted, because this was his year where he would earn his chance to prove himself amongst his fathers, and take his place amongst them. He had become much stronger since the year before, constantly testing his prowess against his tribe-brothers. He felt he was faster than Jaur, though not so strong as Mouna - he was certainly strong enough. He would prove that this time, in the time of the fire-grass. If he succeeded, he would be allowed to paticipate in the next flowering seed - and if he failed... He closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to reflect upon what happened to poor Mala last year at his failure - he had been shamed, and shaved from the hips up to remind him all year of such shame. Though he'd be able to try again this year now that his fur had grown back in, it was not likely that Mala would succeed this year either - his magic was weak, the ancestors would not aid him, not like he was sure they would ait himself.
His father sat before him in the fading light of the embered fire encased within' their family's tent. He sat with his hocks curled beneth him, and a bowl of white paint in his lap. Dourhe studied him as he worked, painting an elaborate pattern the color of the clouds on his son's fur. He was a good man, strong and lean. He noted the two things he admired most about his father, was first his unique coat - not a brown or coppery tan as most of his tribe's members, but rather a rich chocolate, with the color of clouds streaking across his ankles and feet, all the way down to his hooves, which on the contrast to the white there, were a pure black as the color of the soil after a rain. His face was sharp in features, but soft in expression, his eyes, like most eyes of his people, were brown. Upon his brow however, lay one of the most elaborate of crowns he'd ever seen, like the twisting branches of a willow tree, but spiraling up toward the heavens - and one day he hoped to be just like his father. A good man.
----
Alou clutched her doll close to her side, as she wiggled her way under the side of the tent to get a look at what was going on in the privacy of the space. True, it was forbidden, but surely just one peek from his own sister would not ruin any magic the ancestors would want to bestow upon him. Just one peek? She couldn't see much in the dim light, with her head pressed so low to the ground, but it seemed her brother's almost black fur had been painted with white. Magic, for sure. And father was handing him... what was it? A bag? It seemed almost too small to be a bag... A necklace? Like mother's? But instead of tying it around his neck as mother did, he tied it around his waist, beneth his cloth.. Oh, so that's where they kept their putah, their magic. Granted, it was empty now, but Alou knew that when he went on his hunt this season, he'd find and make his first magic then, and when he returned... if he returned... he would be a man.
Father now pulled out something else, a larger bag of some sorts, and entered it with his four fingers, pulling out.. was that dust? He threw it into the dying embers of the fire, and it gave a flash of green flame, instantly filling the tent with a sharp smokey smell, which both he and her brother inhaled deeply with their eyes closed. It took a moment for the smoke to filter it's way down to her level there near the ground, but when it did, it caused her to cough, and her eyes to water. Both of their heads snapped in her general direction, and father was furious. He shouted her name, and from behind, she could feel mother grab her leg and pull her out from beneth the tent, scraping her knee on the dirt. If that weren't bad as is, she was swatted with a grass-bundle on the rump until she cried - then she was finally let go, scolded, and told to go sit with her grandmother. She hated this time of year.
----
It was time. He knew what to do. Dourhe exited his family's tent, his father following close behind, and walked his way toward the center of the camp. There there were several other boys waiting, all painted in different colors to represent the magic that their father had wished upon them. Behind each was their respective father, holding the spear that they would soon bequethe to their sons for the hunt. And at the very center stood the Oumba, the elder. He was truely magnificent, for the spirit of the wild had blessed him with not the two legs that the rest of them were given, but instead, he had been blessed with four. He knew, as all his people knew, that only a true leader of the Panite tribes may go on the "journey", and come back an Oumba. Most who go there, do not come back at all - but those that do are instantly recognized as a leader, and respected as the elder, reguardless of age. His son was there also, easily recognizable by his strange tail, just as his father had - whip-tail, their family was called, for their tails were long and of hair, reaching almost down to their hooves - and they could whip them back and forth in a great display. He did not however, envy his fur, for he looked always as though the rain were washing grey dirt off of him. However, Mouna was the strongest, and being the Oumba's son, was sure to succeed.
Once all the boys of age had arrived, the Oumba began to sing, his voice low and loud - chanting out the songs of the earth. The fathers began to stomp their right hooves upon the ground all in unison, making the earth sound as though it were athunder. The mothers in the distance heard this, and began to chime in with their wind-like voices. From what seemed to be the sky itself now, with all the music about, a flute could be heard, played by the blind elder while he sat in his tent. The song of his people, the song of the earth, was powerful - and he could feel it vibrate in his chest. One day, when he returned, he would fill the wind with his own voice, and let the earth hear the beating of his own hooves.
The music filled his head, made it swim. One of the boys jumped into the air, straight up, shouting out as he did so, "Kiyaaa!". Then another boy, his own cry in the air. Each of them became excited with the music, leaping as they did until he himself could not contain it, "Douoooo!" he shouted! And his father tossed him his spear of saber-bone. He caught it deftly, and raised it into the air, crying out again in brief victory, "Douou-ou-ou-ou!" And suddenly, as though a wolf ensnared a rabbit and crushed the voice out of it, all noise stopped, and everything was still. RUN! BLOOD! BOIL! RUN! The words screamed in his head as the ancestors cried at him what to do. And that is just what he did. He and all the sons, their horns just budding, took fleet in the silence, off toward the rising sun.
The village stood and watched with pride as all their sons departed. Those who were not old enough stared in envy, and the sisters wept silently. Alou most of all. It would be spring before she saw him again, if she saw him at all. His mother and father stood proud, sure that their Dourhe would return again, showing his face at the new Moot in the time of flowering seeds. He would show his face a man, a pelt of a great hunter upon his back - proving that he could keep his people safe from those that would seek to devour them in the night. His putah containing new and strong magic, and then he would be able to take himself a wife.
----
That next year, in the time of Flowering Seeds, when all the tribes had gathered together for the great Moot, Dourhe did in fact arrive as a man, with the pelts of two fanged beasts upon his back, their teeth around his neck on a string. Within' him the ancestor of fire resided, and it was strong. Jaur returned early in shame, unsuccessful, yet unwilling to die - and was shaved from the hips up. Mouna returned with a fanged beast just a day before Dourhe, a new scar from the monster across his face. Mala did not return at all.
Alou loved this time of year. Even if she was too young, and all she could do was watch. She cried out in joy upon seeing her brother return, but was not permitted to hold onto him, for this was not the brother she knew, this was a man. And a man does not hold any woman save for his wife. Alou didn't understand. She was still too young to understand, and she wept as her brother yet again left her for the dance.
Biology: Until a Panite becomes an "Oumba", all Panite walk on two legs. They are covered from head to hoof in
fur, unless they shave themselves (usually from the waist up). Panite all have four fingers (three fingers, one thumb).
Their muzzles and noses are flat, their eyes large, and their ears come in a variety of shapes, none of which are
"human-like". They have may variety to their tail, from cow-tail, to deer-tail, to horse-tail. And their fur pattern is just as
varied, coming in all natural shades and patterns. Many Panite have antlers or horns. Panite cannot eat meat.
Common Culture: Panite are nomadic, and roam the open plains to the east of the labs. Few live in the forests to
the north, but usually avoid venturing anywhere where they might entrude on the Uthax' territory. They hunt the fanged
beasts of the plains, and run with the wind in their manes. They love life, and celebrate it frequently, usually seeking
peaceful ways of solving conflicts. They love to trade, but are no strangers to defending their homeland. The Panite
culture is largely male dominated. Women sew and cook and raise daughters. Men defend their lands from
predators, make war, and raise sons. A woman will marry whichever dancer takes her - IF she feels so inclined to
dance that year as well. Panite pair for life (and a woman only dances once in her lifetime), but a man may dance once
per year if he wishes... but however many wives he takes, it is on his honor that they be kept healthy, happy, and
well-fed. Not many men are foolish enough to dance beyond their means.
Religion: Panite usually worship the goddess of Light. But not in the same crusader-like way the Humans do - they
celebrate her and all her creations. They all believe firmly that the spirits of their ancestors walk amongst them, and
guide them. They and Uthax are the only two races who use Totemic magic, and can covet totems and fetishes - as
well as their own personal sacred medicine bag, known as Putah.
Language: Panite have adopted the language of Laiyan, the ancient language of the fae.
Common Names: Panite have two names. A self-name, and a family-name. The self name is a nonsensical
sound, like Mala, Dourhe, Mouna, Jaur. While the family-name is usually based on the trait that their fore-father had
most strongly, such as Wind-Runner, Strong-Spear, Weaver, or Painted Hide.
As for gender - with panite, in general, yes - there is a lot of gender differences. Men have traditional masculine roles, while females traditional feminine roles? Males are hunters, warriors, travelers, and animal-tamers. Females are gardeners, crafters, and teachers. Both can be shamans, but male shamans are a more active form of magic, while females are more clairvoyant.
Think of like the nomadic indians that followed the seasons (comanche). They had their travel-able homes, and went with the seasons to follow the game, and make sure their crops could grow. Not all crops take a whole year to grow! They'd settle down - raise some animals, grow some crops, and move on. As Panite, they don't eat meat - but they enjoy milks and cheeses, and use animal-hide for their homes and clothing - they will also trade the meat to the Uthax, who may venture down to trade on occassion.
Ssashirk
- '1920's Nomad-warriors from Arabia (the bedu)'
- Primarily speak Sakaash(with slight variations depending on the tribe), tend to learn Common as a trade language.
- Ssashirk Story (Written by Spirit for v3)
Dass'arakaz'eth (often called "Dass" for short) had spent many long years with her instructor, Kashaam. She found him to be wretchedly old, and quite bitter - but a good instructor. He taught her of other cultures, of language, and writing, and reading the stars. She was most interested in the trade, so he taught her as much as he could about the counting. She left him three months ago, and right now, as bitter as he was, she sorely missed his company.
The sun was hot, the sand was harsh, the water was scarce, and the company was non-existent. With the sun beating down on her scales, she was forced to open her mouth to cool herself - and felt like a savage for doing so. All that she owned she carried at her waist, and though she hoped to make good trade of it, she had yet to find a single customer... more importantly, she had yet to find water. At least fortune still smiled upon her, for she had yet to be devoured by a Tak-kaam, a deadly beast of the sands.
Oh, what she wouldn't give for a single drop of Manaah! She was beginning to look like a beggar, the bottoms of her robes were fraying and tattering with every passing day, and she hadn't enough water to wash them, so they began to smell. Her skin was darkening beneath the harsh glares of the shadeless sun, and she was certain she would die. But no. She was Ssashirk! Daughter of the Darashe'ne Mother! The desert could not defeat her! She refused!
Suddenly, in her solitude of the seemingly endless sand, she heard a sudden burst of shouting and screaming - the sound of steel clashing on steel, and the sound of a dozen great beasts bellowing into the sky above. She flinched briefly - and then raced toward the sound - peaking over a dune to see the commotion happening at the oasis below.
An oasis! Water! Water and shade! Clearly a village was here, she could see the rubble of the once great town that grew around the water - a source so precious that whole tribes would kill each other for it, which is what seemed to be happening now. From her possition of upon the hill where she could watch out of relative danger, she gathered the battle-scene below her.
A Tumai human, and a band of a dozen Ssashirk people mounted upon beasts had their sabres brandished, and were slaying the group of Tumai poor-blooded that had taken up home in the Oasis ruins. It was a very one-sided battle. Though the poor-blooded were fierce, holding weapons in their hands, they only managed to injure a few of the mounted Ssashirk, and only kill one. A single Ssashirk stood out to Dass the most - a mighty warrior, the mightiest of mightiest!
When the fighting died down, it was because all the poor-blooded were slain - almost three dozen bodies lie in the sands - and those few that remained fled into the water-less ocean of the desert. There was no victory cry. This was a mercenary-like conquest. Cold killers, likely hired by the Tumai human. And that's when they saw her. Damn! How could she have been so stupid as to be seen!? Instead of ducking down into the sand (which would only show that that she had been trying to be sneaky, like a thief) - she decided to make herself as known as possible, and stood boldly at the top of the dune so that all could see her. They rode to her quickly, their expressions grim, and formed a circle around her, their swords still drawn.
The greatest of the Ssashirk was the one who spoke, her voice harsh and graveled, "This is Mndume's water." - she was the tongue for Mndume, whom Dass assumed was the Tumai.
"Yes." she agreed.
There was a moment of contemplation, and then Mndume decided to speak for himself, a smile playing across his flat and dark face, "You may drink from it."
In return, she offered her new friend a humble gift of eleven gold pieces - one for each survivor of the battle that they had won here today. Ah, water - Manaah. The greatest gift the mother could ever bestow.
Later that day, as the entire party drank and cleaned at the Oasis, she learned that the greatest of warriors in this party was named Gikashk. It was a name she recognized. She was the favored general of the Tumai armies - the mightiest of warriors in all the sands. It was little wonder at why she had been so impressed by her. Kashaam was a good teacher, he truely was - but it was Gikashk that could teach her more. And a Ssashirk with many skills is one that sees the tomorrow.
---------------
It had been twelve years ago when she met Gikashk. And in twelve years, Dass had learned a lot.
She had seen the city of Tumai, and watched the gladiator's games where Ssashirk happily fought each other to the death for the entertainment of the Tumai, and the coin it would provide. She had seen the many clutches and tribes of Ssashirk wandering the desert - and had come to know each one's territories, Oasis, ruins where they set up their summer and winter camps, and even their wells (which she made sure to never drink from without an honorable trade). She had seen war and battle, and was herself a fierce warrior of the twin daggers. She had known of raiders, and defended her caravan. She had aquired herself a Duma'koon, a Shovel-Tusk to pull her cart of goods she had amassed. She had learned of the best places to find and steal young Duma'koon, and where to find the wild Sarane eggs.
When she learned of the lush and green lands with more water than one could hope to drink in a lifetime, she set out toward the east. There was good trade there. She had established her own trade-routes, and learned to read the land by memory alone.
After she learned to trade there, it was another five years before she and her new found friend, a human by the name of Barthew had decided to travel south. That was when they met the Ka-tak'ash. Those people were different from the Ssashirk - but Barthew couldn't tell the difference. Foolish human. He offered to trade with them, and Dass couldn't refuse. While they traded well (an event that took two days and one night) with the more experienced of the two, they butchered and devoured Barthew. She didn't know until the trading was complete and she tried to find him - flesh-eaters, all of them!
She would never venture so far south again. It's no wonder that the Ka-tak'ash and the Ssashirk are considered different people, it's not just becuase of the differnence in the color of their scales, but their cruel mannerisms. She regretted most of all the greatest deal she made with them. It was a good deal, but their cruelty to Barthew left her feeling tainted. Ever since then she stayed to her own trade-route between the city of Tumai, and the city of the "Labs" - in the land of rolling hills.
This was her trade-route. Hers, and her egg's. She knew it was a boy, she could smell it. After he hatched, three years after, she would name him for his favored trait. She would teach him well - the trader's skill. The honorable trader's skill, not the trader's skill of the raiders who would sell back to you what they stole. No. The good kind. She would never tell him of his father in the south, for her shame was too great.
Avian
- 'Roman/Greek culture + Holy Crusaders'
- Primarily speak Marhoo, but often learn Common as a trade language.
- Avian Story (Written by Spirit for v3)
It had taken him three months to craft such a fine tithing for the Lady. He sat at his worktable, head resting on his clawed hand, contemplating over the work he had done. It was beautiful, almost perfect. Well, perfect for what he could do. It was golden, delicate, with sapphires faceted within' it's body - a beautiful broach of sorts for the Lady's hair - a hair-cage. If only he had hair, he could test it out, but the feathers didn't quite work the same. Yes, yes it would do.
He stood on his two feet, and swept down to pick up the delicate trinket, placing it in his silken satchel resting lightly at his side. He swept up his semi-transparent garments, and flipped the end of the long sash over his shoulder, which fell like a cloud down to the nook of his arm. With every step he took, the garment flowed behind him like a mist - and every step he took over the marbled mosaic road caused his claws to make a light "clinking" sound - echoed in turn by the bells that hung off his waist-sash.
It was a long walk to the center of the city, but he dared not fly - not quite enough room between the buildings - asside from which, he (like most) found it quite rude to the Lady - if you were to make the journey to her temple, you should take the effort to walk, and fully enjoy the sights of her city's beauty. And that's exactly what he did.
He marveled at the pale blue, teal, and white marbling of the mosaic tiles beneath his feet - the intricate designs that they made - the pearlescent sheen over every piece of stone. He looked to the horizon, and marveled at the sunrise - the beautiful hues of pink and lavender that painted the sky. He smiled at the thought that from here, he couldn't even see the land far below. He looked at the towers all around him, the tall pillars, columns, and archways. The pyramids guarding almost every doorway. He stopped to touch the flowering plants of the gardens that lined every single edge of the roadway - the curling fronds of the ferns, the delicate vines of the white berry-producing Lady's Pearls.
He heard a familiar chime-like sound, and looked to his left, seeing a sentry's trusty companion, a Torstea - a delicate creature formed by the Lady, and for the Lady's people. No doubt it would serve him or her in their pilgrimage in the world below. Poor creatures, never knowing the blessings of the Lady. Oh, how he wished he could have one though, but it was not his place to want - they were given to those who served the Lady, and only those... did he not serve? One day, he had hoped and prayed that she would notice his tithings, his devotion, his want - and she would smile upon him so he could serve her better. That's all he wished, was that so much to ask?
Ah - he'd arrived. The line. As it was every day, the line leading up to the temple was long, snaking it's way through the streets, each person of the city anxiously awaiting thier turn to bow before the Lady - most carrying some sort of tithing for her. With all of the tithings, surely there would be no more places for her to put them - and her temple was certainly not cluttered, he wondered often what she did with them - but it was not his place to wonder, for she had powers beyond even his most wild of imaginings.
There was a woman standing in front of him in the line, and having little else to look at aside from the city he'd already stared at before - or the sunrise which was quickly turning too bright to stare at, he contemplated her instead. He smiled inwardly at himself at her form, and knew that the Lady knew what she was doing when she saw fit to bless his people. Her feathers were soft on the inside, and sharp at the edges - almost like a hawk. They were a dusty brown, with red at the tips - and she saw so fit to decorate each and every one with feather-dye, making an intricate swirling pattern of red to match the tips, making her look even more delicate that he originally thought. Her beak was curved at the tip, and deadly-sharp, her eyes the color of spun gold, and her wingtips folded over one another quite neatly as she stood there. On her head, clipped to the feathers there, she had a delicate piece of jewelry - and he wondered what her tithing must be, that could be more beautiful than that.. more beautiful than her.
He shook his head to clear his mind, it was not his place to think of such things - he'd yet to even earn the direct blessing of the Lady - he was not satisfied with himself yet, for as his Lady sought perfection, so did he - and as he had yet to achieve even something similar to it, he was not yet "good enough" to have such thoughts - he was not worthy. Oh, Lady, perhaps today would be the day.
When he finally did reach his turn at the temple, he passed the deep blue stone, like sapphire, polished to a mirror-like finish so that he could see himself as he walked - the flecks of silver in the stone looked like stars. He smiled to himself at it's beauty, and concentrated on the floor, following the golden line that led up to the Lady's throne - he dared not look up to her, he dare not not offend. Once he reached the symbol of the sun, he kneeled on the floor, spreading his wings out wide, and low, letting them drape like a great cloak across the floor - begging her to remove them should she deem fit, his head hung low, his brow touching his knee, and both hands firmly planted on the floor to balance himself.
"My Lady." he whispered, not wanting his voice to break her thoughts.
He was going to reach into his pouch, and immediately pull out the trinket to leave at her feet, stand, his head still hung, and turn to take his leave of her has he had always done since the day he was old enough to come to the temple on his own accord - but today, it was different. Today, he heard a voice.
It was soft, and beautiful, a almost a trill within' it, like the sweetest of doves, "Your consistency is commendable..."
That was when he was caught off guard, and he glanced up at the source of the voice, he couldn't help himself - and he silently cursed himself for it - looking back to the floor, keeping his beak shut and hoping he had not offended too greatly. But the deed was already done, he had seen.
The vision of them was burned into his memory, and he didn't even want it to be removed. Like a painting that would never leave - an engraving in the stone on every home's empty side, the murals that depicted their devotions. She was like nothing he had ever seen. She was... almost human. And the one who had spoken to him was the Zephyr, the wind - the voice. She was the one of his people who had been chosen to stand at her side always - he had known of her... the white falcon. The hound sat at her right, almost as sharp as the Zephyr. If he had looked longer, he might have seen the spider perched upon the throne somewhere, but he didn't - he knew she was there though. The avatars of the Lady - how had he been so stupid as to look at them!
"You know," the voice broke the silence again, a light chuckle in the air, "you are one of the few so humble... what did you bring today, Kholu?"
He reached into his satchel now, and pulled out his trinket, one one hand proud of the fact that it's sapphires matched the floor on which now he kneeled, and cursing himself silently for not having worked on it longer.. it was not yet perfect. He laid it on the floor in front of him, and sat it directly in the center of the sun's mark.
Then he felt it while he was distracted with his movements. A hand upon his head. He knew it wasn't the Zephyr, and he wept silently. She loved him.
"Go now," the voice spoke again, "you've a duty awaiting you."
He bowed even lower, stood, turned on his heel, and strode again across the temple's great hall toward the exit, pride swelling in his chest to the part where he felt as though his heart would burst. And standing there, waiting for him, for HIM at the entrance to the temple, was a Torstea - it's rainbow-like hide shimmering in the sunlight that filtered in through the great archways. It chimed at him, a series of noises that pleased the ear, and he couldn't help but to smile. As he strode past it, it turned without word, and followed him - for the Lady had given it to him.
The Sentries, Crusaders, and Pilgrims all met with him with open arms - and they dawned him with his own equipment for better serving the lady. The Legatus strode up to him, and handed him a curled scroll, his very first orders. It was time it seemed, for him to see the Land below. He wondered what it looked like - he'd heard of trees - trees that grew from the ground - and numbered as many as the feather's on a man's back. He heard of creatures that burrowed in the ground, and never knew to stride above it. He heard of stones the size of a hundred cities combined, and bodies of water that stretched as far as the sky itself. He was proud, and very afraid.
His first orders, as it would seem, were the orders of a Pilgrim. They were simple, and non-combatant. He was to travel down to the land below, and observe the world. Should he perform in combat in a way not befitting of the Lady, he would be banished. He would be sure to only defend himself - for one day, perhaps one day he would become a Crusader - and there would be a time for combat.
He watched the Crusaders as they suited up, they had already given their own tithings in a different way - for they no longer needed to enter the temple for the Lady to know their love - they only needed to kneel and pray (most had their own altars for her tithings and devotion). They dawned their armor, mounted their steeds, and took off to the sky - their steeds bounding on the air almost effortlessly as they strode toward the land far below. There was corruption below they had to cleanse, and they would do so with the fury of a thousand storms.
As for him, he mounted his own steed - the feel of it foreign beneath him, clutched his new gear, and held onto the steel-like mane of his mount as it bounded off in it's own direction - taking him to strange new places. It would be at least a year before he would see the city again - and as the Lady had need of him, he didn't even stop to say goodbye.
This was the happiest time of his life, and he was excited already when he could return, to tell the fellow Sentries of his service, and kneel before the lady again.
***********
Across the street, from her own marbled yard with it's carved stone garden, Aulaa stood and watched as the devout left for the day. It wasn't often that new devout were chosen, but when they were, she always rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Reaching up, she petted the head of her faithful companion, the Skeel - she named hers Tooka. Tooka was a much better pet than those great Torstea anyway - at least her Tooka could fit in her house! She finished her chores of plucking the ripe berries and nuts growing along her side of the road, and placed them in the ivory basin to go on her table for dinner later on.
Before she left her house, she knelt briefly at her shrine for the Lady, lit another stick of incense, cleaned off the ashes from the old one, and added a single one of the ripest berries as a tithing. It wouldn't be there when she got back, it never was... Was it the Lady? Or had Tooka simply eaten it? Silly little Nautilidae, he was always causing mischief. Now that her devotion had been performed, and her tithing had been made - she touched her brow for the Lady, and left the house to go to work.
Not everyone could spend so much time in devotion - and she hardly had time for lines. A woman had to sleep after all, and she had to work as well - somebody had to make new clothes, do the pottery, mason the stone, go down to the world below for new skystone! She was a humble woman for sure, but she had work to do! Surely the lady, of all people (if one would dare compare her to a person) would understand that - the city doesn't build itself!
She passed by the line of hopefuls, and tried to ignore the Crusaders as they rode off with their mounts, armor, and glaives - and silently prayed to the lady as she went to walked toward her place of work.
Lore-Specific Races
These races are rarer and more unusual in the setting, and they have more restrictions in terms of their traits, backstories and lore. Staff will be stricter when approving characters from lore-specific races, and you may be asked to choose another race or revise aspects of your character during the approval process.
Xeno-Kwal
- Primarily speak 'Kwalish'(how a Common speaker would say it), a language of chirps, whistles, wing buzzes, and all sorts of things other races have issues mimicking or even understanding. Those who go to the surface tend to learn the dominant languages in a region.
- 'Mushroom-eating, dark-dwelling Alien-Bugs'
Kapper
- 'Underground Steampunk (high technology)'
- Primarily speak Nija, and their language is short and precise. May learn Common, but most tend to shorten sentences. (Why use many words when less words gets the point across = Less words better).
- Kapper Story + Q/A (Written by Spirit for v3)
Nik, Took, Kat, Kuz, and Lur were all from the same mother. There used to be Ziik and Tut and Mij as well, but they were all dead now - foolish siblings. Kaa was also their sibling directly, but he was quite a bit older, and an esteemed master of the pyrotechnics, he made flame-machines. Nik didn't quite understand them, but Nik sure liked watching the fire! Oh, how it danced in front of his eyes!
Every day was the same since he was old enough to leave the warrens. Dig in rocks, give rocks to smelters, smelters smelt, smiths smith, foilers foil, tinkers tink, jewlers jewel, steamers work the steam engines, alchemists work the chemicals, pyros work the fire, and plasmites work the coils... All these things ended up working together to whirl, bob, whistle, kahoot, and steam. It made the tunnels "safe", the doors open and close, the pistols work, the lights come on, and the elevators go and down. All things for the great machine known as the "tunnel", the gut of the world.
And it was BORING. Boring and hard. Nik didn't like picking through rocks, not one bit. Nik wanted to so something fun, like a steamer! At least steamers got burned alive, but all Nik got was blisters on his fingers. His siblings agreed. Well, at least Took, Kat, Kuz, and Lur did. The rest couldn't, or wouldn't. And as for Lur, she was almost old enough to make Kits of her own, and was so tired of seeing just the stone and her siblings. She needed to get out! And who was Nik, but not a good brother to help his sister get what she needed? Together, the four of them would escape, and see the world - bring back a fortune of finds, and earn their place in something other than the mines! Yes, yes they would.
They just... they just needed help, that's all.. I mean, there's only four of them, and there's not a weapon among them... unless you counted the lazer-drill, the diamond tipped pick-axe, or the shovel... or his pet albino scorpion. He loved that thing, kept it in a glass jar though, ever since it stung Ziik.... poor Ziik. Oh well, he still had three other siblings. Today however, it was time for his plans to go into effect! Well, his and Took's plans - they planned together you see, they were almost like twins! Well, okay, they were all kits together, but he and Took had the same father, he was sure of it!
Nik and Took skittered through the bronze hallways - an almost golden contrast compared to the pitch blackness of the walls, most of which was coal in this part of the tunnels. The copper wiring above hummed with blue plasma, and steam vented from pipes just out of burning-reach. They reached the door to one of the many warrens, and turned the dial the right way to open the door. It clanged, ground, and clattered - grinding on it's wheels as the door itself rotated and rolled out of the way, presenting the opening to the dimly lit space beyond.
Mushrooms, slimes, and lichen lined the cavern walls in here - glowing softly to provide the only light in the warren. Grass and fur muffled most sound, protecting one's feet from being hurt as compared to metal or stone. The mothers were sleeping now, sleeping soundly on their backs or sides to expose themselves to whichever kits felt the need to feed. Good thing they were so drowsy too - it would make this job that much easier with them asleep...
They split up, each choosing a different direction, it would be faster that way. He passed by kits clinging to the bodies of their mothers. Passed by kits cradled in the mothers' arms. Passed by clumps of kits all sleeping soundly together, their tails wrapped around each other. He tripped over a few brightly colored toys, barely catching himself before his face hit the ground. And that's about the time he saw what he was seeking.
Before him, sprawled out on the floor, on the miniature stone tables and chairs, clinging to their toys and snacks of gruel, were the slightly older kits. They no longer felt the need to cling to their mothers, and like he was just a year or two ago, most likely anxious to leave the warrens. Very anxious, if they were anything like him or HIS siblings.
He leaned down to the nearest one, a male from the smell of him, little tusks sticking out from his face, his horns curving back from his otherwise barren skull. He wore no clothing (few kapper did), and one could even see his wings - that was a fairly rare trait. He chuckled to himself at the fact that they were clearly not the same size. He gave him a little shake, and the younger Kapp stirred. He gave him a mischievous grin, and the younger Kapp blinked at him, confused. He continued to three of four more kits, waking them as he went - he picked the oldest looking, or as the case may be, the largest.
Once he had stirred enough, he smirked at them all, and turned to leave, pattering off toward the exit from which he and his brother came. Some of them stayed there, confused - others, the more curious, followed. Once they were all outside, his brother and his followers met up. They closed the door behind them, and introduced each other in hushed tones;
Nik (himself) the murky, Took (his brother) the snaggle-toothed one. Pip the off-wing, Kat the red (different from Kat his sister), Zal the black-footed, Boot the yellow, Gar with the horns (whom he later found out was a female), and Tiz the long-tailed. None of these titles were important of course, but one does tend to forget names.. He glanced at his timepiece, ah, just in time! Kat (his sister) the fluffy, Kuz (his brother) mangle-hand, and Lur (his better sister) gold-eye finally showed up. With Nik, Took, Pip, Kat, Zal, Boot, Gar, Tiz, Kat, Kuz, and Lur - they were all ready to go!
"Quick, we go!" Nik shouted out, and they all shouted in turn their own joys! It was time to GO! Leaping over one another, shouting, cheering, slapping the walls with their open palms, bouncing off the walls, swinging from the pipes overhead (where Kuz burned his hand and whimpered), they darted their way toward the exit of the great tunnels! They passed by the workshops, the home-dens, the quarries, the Mum farms (oh how he loved those), and even a couple (dozen) adults busy making more kits.
Finally, FINALLY! They made it to the light, and they all screeched and covered their eyes with their clawed hands when it struck them.
What a horrible thing is this?! Such a thing that would sting their eyes and make them water like the dust of coal! Squinting and blinking, they became used to the light, and wondered at the things they found there. Rocks of different color, the open sky, shrubs and grasses, and... something very large moving about on the ground. Oh, that was scary! Let's see if we can eat it's knees! Haha!
If only the pronghorn knew what terrible fate awaited it...
******************
Kaa heard about the commotion later on, and scoffed. He adjusted his spectacles, and shifted in his chair, adding a little more of that flammable powder to the copper tubing he had been working on. These charges would do nicely indeed...
He grumbled to himself at the antics of his younger siblings - heard they had stolen away some kits from the warrens, the mothers were furious! But no point in chasing them - they were a large group now, and most likely half of them would come back. Good enough numbers, really... HE came back when he was younger, and his time outside did him good - look at where he is now. HE was quite happy to help make the sentries - giving them their explosive charges that made them so deadly. No more would those tunnel worms cause them troubles! Not with his assistance on the inventions, anyway.
He sighed again, thinking about which of the youngsters would actually come back alive, and what sort of destruction their games would cause above... "war party" they would call it... if only they knew it was a couple of kits having fun... how uneducated the barbarians of the upperlands could be. Disgusting creatures, so huge and dull-minded.
His sighing caused his 'assistant' to become curious, and scamper her way over to him, looking up with her blue slitted eyes, swishing her lion-tufted tail back and forth. He smiled down at her and patted her head, "It's nothing, go back to work." She frowned, but nodded, and sighing herself, walked back over to her miniature-sized worktable to grind up the powder.
It was a rare thing he did, but it was not unheard of. He could see himself in her - she had his eyes for sure. She must be his. She and one other were the only two from the litter that might have been his, and he chose her because she was smaller - the larger could easily find work in the mines when he grew up. It was a rare thing he did, taking her for himself - she would learn good work, she would - and she would most certainly not participate in the foolish antics as the other kits did - she would learn from his own mistakes, without making them herself. She was HIS kit, and she would benefit from his years... and even if she wasn't his kit (which was likely as well), she was lucky enough that he considered her his own.
Oh, how her mother was furious for his theft of her!
*******************
It had been almost two years of their antics on the upperworld. Took, Kat (not his sister), and Boot had died. Gar "got smart" as she said, and went home to the tunnels. Kat (his sister) disappeared entirely. Kuz's foot also became mangled, but this time from injury, not from birth. It was just Nik, Pip, Zal, Boot, Tiz, Kuz, and his one remaining sister, Lur.
They had a nice collection, which they'd been hiding together in a little cave-hole they found and had been sleeping in. Trees surrounded them now, and there were plenty of fluffy things to eat - "Ray-Bits" as they heard the tall things call them, and "Shiip" were the larger flavor. They even got an occasional ear or finger from the tall things, those were wonderful treats, but dangerous to acquire - after all, that's how Took died - and Took was his favorite brother.
Lur had even had her own litter of kits finally, he was so happy for her! Six kits in total, but only five survived. One had three little wings, they were sure it was Pip's, so they named it Lurp. One was yellow, but had black feet so it was either Zal's or Boot's, but most likely Zal's because Boot was dead before Lur wanted kits, so they named it Zoot. One was the ugliest of colors, and covered in lumps - he was sure that was his own, and Lur named it Tii. One he hoped was Took's, for he participated before he died, and that little girl had snaggle-teeth, so they named it Took. Even Kuz managed to get one, they knew this because it was born with a mangled arm, he was quite lucky, because he had a hard time at those games - they named her Brok. Tiz was disappointed.
Nik looked over thier little hoard... He thought of all the bones they found, of all the yummy berries and nuts they learned to eat. He stared at the various shiny things, the rings, necklaces, coins, hats, and socks they had gathered. They had succeeded in many things, and learned a lot. Mostly they learned because of Took, Kat, and Boot. Poor Took. He scratched his head, and thought about the kits. He thought about their recent adventure, the one where they found the ring with the red stone in it. It was his favorite. And because of this thought, he became afraid.
It was time perhaps... time for him to go.
When they were all asleep, he pocketed the ring, a few nuts, and socks for both feet they found on a helpless and wiggly miniature tall-thing - found it in a cage they did - a cage with no top, for it couldn't even walk. What an ugly creature, but the socks fit him. Lastly, he picked up new-Took. He decided to choose her over Tii because he wanted to honor old-Took, and because new-Took was a female. She barely even wiggled in protest, but he put a root in her mouth anyway, just to keep her quiet. And away he went in the night another sound. They would be furious - but they would never find him - they had not learned (as he had) how to read footprints.
****************
The next morning - that's when the men came.
They sought to rid the world of the terrible nest of Kappers that they had tracked to their den. The woodsman sought vengance for his wife's finger, which they had gnawed off to steal her ring - she was sick from infection. The shepherd sought to protect his flock. And the carpenter sought to protect his daughter, who had been attacked in his own home - in her own crib! Those vermin had to die!
And they did. All the vermin died.
Every last one.
Pip, Zal, Boot, Tiz, Kuz, Lur, Lurp, Zoot, and even Tii. Only Brok survived. She was taken by the shepherd, most likely because of her mangled arm. She would be fattened on sheep's milk, and taught to clean the house - a poor life for sure, she would never know anything else but servitude.
Of course, Nik and Took survived, for they weren't even there that day... And Took learned from his mistakes (especially after he came back to visit, and found only bones) - and he taught his mistakes to Took, and they survived well. They even went so far as to learn the tall-things language, a complicated thing with many words making single words, "Huu-mans" they were called. He and Took were good friends, and they were working hard in a land where there were rolling hills, helping out their "Huu-man fren" named "Bett-ty" at the inn of the trade-roads there.
Life was good for Nik and Took, for his child's games were no longer strong in his blood. And the ring he kept on his tail, as a reminder.
+I'm going to derive from the kapper story that in their society, incest is normal.
Yes, it is. It's kinda' like rats. Put a bunch or rats together in a cage, they will make babies (related or not).
-Is that how they bred all of their strange mutations/crazy into their species?
Religion-wise, they are all mutated / crazy because they are creatures of chaos (and Chaos is the god of madness and distortion). Biologically, inbreeding lots doesn't help. :P
-Also, I noticed that both male characters that had their views in this story stole female offspring (that are in some way related to them) is this coincidental, or for breeding purposes?
Coincidental. The younger male stole the female because yes, to him she will be more valuable when she grows up 'cause she can have babies. The older male stole the female simply because she is smaller (as compared to her sibling, who could find work elsewhere), he was trying to "help the runt out". Being a more refined, experienced, and educated individual (as opposed to a rowdy teenager who works in the mines - a lowly commoner), he would likely never dare breed with her (unless she demanded it when she grew up).
-Is it very common for fathers/uncles/brothers to breed with their female relatives? It seems to be in this story (for the case of brother-sister) but I'm not too sure if this is common for the whole race or just in this family.
Ah - to Kapper (few individuals aside, case in point, the older male who stole the young female just so he could educate her and give her a "better life") - Kapper have no "families". They know of mother (the one who birthed them) - but for the most part Kapper raise families in Warrens. A warren is a place with lots of mothers, and even more children. They all raise the kits together. If a kit needs to be disciplined, it doesn't matter which mother does it. Likewise, if a kit needs to feed, it doesn't matter which mother it nestles up against. It's a very - "it's not my kid, it's OUR kids" sorta' thing. Siblings however, tend to stay in groups - not because of blood relation, but because they're friends. Fathers rarely "keep" their kits (and mothers usually don't want the fathers 'helping' anyway)... plus.. you never know who the father is anyway, that's a guessing game.
So... the short answer... Yes, it's very common for them to all breed together (relative or not), but "relative" doesn't really work the same way for Kappers. They know who gave birth to them, but that's not relevant to who raised them. They know who their litter-mates are because they are friends. They MAY know who their fathers are.... as for the rest of the relations (uncles, etc) - figuring out who those are is even harder.
For the most part, Kapper don't even notice "they're a family member" - there is no barrier for breeding... Kapper that DO have a barrier, usually have aquired it through outside influence - they've seen the way the rest of the world works - probably picked up a few things on their own, and decided that that's not what they want to do.
-I take it that males don't stay with the females that they mate with/mate with several females?
Not only do Kapper breed rampantly when they decide to, but they breed rather like cats. It works as such: A female decides she wants babies. She wants them NOW. And she will have her way. She is in charge of this, it is her decision, and she will get what she wants (and what male would deny such a request?). For the rest of the day, she would proceed to breed with ... as many males as she sees fit... 12 will do nicely. Basically, when she wants babies, they have an orgy - and kapper are usually not prudish, it really is an orgy. And, like cats with breeding - if there are 8 babies, each baby may very well have a different dad, even though they are all born on the same day - and all conceived at the same time. Because of this (and the females not usually wanting their "help"), the males take no claim in raising the young. Again - usually. There are rare cases of mated pairs, or rare cases (as shown with the older male in the story) where a male desires true parenthood. Likewise, a female may desire true parenthood, and stay away from the warrens - or decide upon a single mate. But commonly? Orgy + "who IS my daddy, anyway?".
-What is the role of either gender in society?
Males and females have the same role and/or value in Kapper society. There is no difference. However, when it comes to making babies, it gets more complicated. Females give birth and raise the young (even if it's not their own)... when a female kapper decides she wants to become a "mother" - she rarely looses that status. She breeds, makes babies, raises babies - and that's pretty much all she does for the rest of her life, but it is her choice. Females control the breeding. A female who has not yet decided to become "mother" however - you wouldn't be able to tell the difference between her and a male... except maybe the boobs (if she had any), and lack of penis (unless she has hyena-like anatomy down there, which is rare, but not unheard of in kapper.. they are creatures of chaos, after all).
Fae
- Primarily speak Laiyan, may learn other languages if they feel it is needed.
Uthax
- 'Peaceful Ogres of the Forest (ancient gaelic druids?)'
- Primarily speak what Common speakers call 'Uthaxian'. Sounds like Russian if you cut the words in half.
SPECIAL:
Draconics
- Have official art for each in the Canyon part of the site.
- Tend to have some form of magic inherent to them.
- The bonding process is unknown, but rumored to be something horrifying, and those who bond to a draconic often allow all other bonds to fall away, leading to horror, disgust, and distrust of any who willingly 'sold their heart and mind' to a draconic.
- The bonding process allows draconics to be allowed to travel through the City, so long as they are with their bonded.
Each races opinions on the others(As written by Spirit for v3)
^Human
Humans thoughts on other races:
Ersatz - Humans know just about everything there is to know about Ersatz, as their two societies are intertwined. However, their view of them is very prejudiced - they generally feel that Ersatz should "know their place".
Ssashirk (and Tumai) - Though Tumai and Ssashirk are very different species (as tumai are humans!) the general of human society views them both (culturally) the same. They are the "desert people" - respected as traders, feared as warriors. The respect that they show for the Ssashirk is mostly out of fear... for to war with the Ssashirk is to war with all Ssashirk nations, and the Tumai will swiftly follow to help defend their allies - and the Tumai nation is grand. To war with either of these, is to war with the whole desert.
Beast-Walkers - Humans dislike Beast-Walkers the most. Outside of the cities (such as the labs) where assaulting something that talks is a crime punishable by death... humans often attack or kill Beast-Walkers on sight. They rarely think of them as anything more than a rabid wolf needing to be put down.
Kapper - Few Kappers gain a human's respect. For the most part, Kapper are (rightfully so) seen as pests - obnoxious little goblins, causing havoc. On rare occasions, a solitary Kapper may earn him or herself a place amongst humans, but that place is usually below Ersatz somewhere. Humans know that Kapper have "high technology" - as the Kapper are the primary inventors of the steam-engines and zeppelins... but Humans have NO idea the grand scope of a Kapper's technology. For starters, Kappers only share the "junk" - and for seconds, a human can't even fit in a Kapper's warrens (and would probably be devoured by a horde of hungry kits if they did).
Panite - Humans usually don't accept Panite in their societies, but they are relatively respectful to them. They are a peaceful people that pose little to no threat, and humans know it. Unfortunately, their peaceful nature often leads humans to abusing them, or taking advantage of them in trade.
Avian - Many humans think Avians are a myth. They are rarely seen, and when they are rarely seen, there's usually not enough witnesses to solidify this as fact. Those few avian that are seen are rumored to be "holy beings of the sky, wings like a dove, face like a hawk"... and that's about all the knowledge they have.
XenoKwal - If Avian are considered to be myth, Xenokwal are considered to be lies. While Avian are bold, Xenokwal are shy - which adds to the lack of knowledge about them. Rumors tell of "dark bug-men from deep in the earth". And many-a mother might tell their children of the Kwal who would come to take them deep into their lairs to devour them should they not eat their vegetables... If one were to meet a Xeno-Kwal, fear alone would likely cause humans to (a) part for their passing and (b) stare in wonderment (but not attack - never know what that THING could do!).
Siren - All humans know of the Sirens under the sea and their great kingdom - for it is the stuff of fairytale and legend. They know this place to be fact, but have never seen it. "Sirens taught magic to man" and "Sirens help the shipwrecked return to land" as well as "Sirens will cause a sane man to jump to his death, to devour his flesh". Sirens are treated as the highest of diplomats, but at the same time, every man (is right to) fear the Siren.
Uthax - If a human were to meet an Uthax in the North (their native land) they treat them just as they would treat a Panite... but be more cautious not to offend them (they are large, after all). However, when an Uthax is met toward the south, when they loose all their fur, the Uthax are not known even to BE Uthax. "Ogre" they are called. "Monster" is another. This is when they are treated in the same manner as the Beast-Walkers.
^Humanish/Ersatz
Ersatz thoughts on other races:
Humans - Erastz know just about everything there is to know about Huamans, as their two societies are intertwined. However, their view of them is very askew - they know humans to be harsh and prejudiced, but also feel that they are more humble than the humans - and generally speaking are happy to "serve their place" beneth them. Humans are blind to humility to a fault.
Ssashirk (and Tumai) - Though Tumai and Ssashirk are very different species (as tumai are humans!) the general of human society views them both (culturally) the same. They are the "desert people" - respected as traders, feared as warriors. The respect that they show for the Ssashirk is mostly out of fear... for to war with the Ssashirk is to war with all Ssashirk nations, and the Tumai will swiftly follow to help defend their allies - and the Tumai nation is grand. To war with either of these, is to war with the whole desert.
Beast-Walkers - Erstaz fear the Beastwalkers, but not to the extent that the Humans do. Mostly, they feel sorrow or pity for the Beast-Walkers, but would still avoid them out of fear.
Kapper - For the most part, Kapper are (rightfully so) seen as pests - obnoxious little goblins, causing havoc. While humans see these "pests" as being worthy of slaying, the Ersatz mostly look upon them as "naughty cats". On rare occasions, a solitary Kapper may earn him or herself a place amongst ersatz. Erstaz know that Kapper have "high technology" - as the Kapper are the primary inventors of the steam-engines and zeppelins... but Ersatz have NO idea the grand scope of a Kapper's technology. For starters, Kappers only share the "junk" - and for seconds, an Ersatz can't even fit in a Kapper's warrens (and would probably be devoured by a horde of hungry kits if they did).
Panite - Erstaz like and respect the Panite, and enojoy trading with them.
Avian - Many Ersatz think Avians are a myth. They are rarely seen, and when they are rarely seen, there's usually not enough witnesses to solidify this as fact. Those few avian that are seen are rumored to be "holy beings of the sky, wings like a dove, face like a hawk"... and that's about all the knowledge they have.
XenoKwal - If Avian are considered to be myth, Xenokwal are considered to be lies. While Avian are bold, Xenokwal are shy - which adds to the lack of knowledge about them. Rumors tell of "dark bug-men from deep in the earth". And many-a mother might tell their children of the Kwal who would come to take them deep into their lairs to devour them should they not eat their vegetables... If one were to meet a Xeno-Kwal, fear alone would likely cause humans to (a) part for their passing and (b) stare in wonderment (but not attack - never know what that THING could do!).
Siren - All Ersatz know of the Sirens under the sea and their great kingdom - for it is the stuff of fairytale and legend. They know this place to be fact, but have never seen it. "Sirens taught magic to man" and "Sirens help the shipwrecked return to land" as well as "Sirens will cause a sane man to jump to his death, to devour his flesh". Sirens are treated as the highest of diplomats, but at the same time, every man (is right to) fear the Siren.
Uthax - If an Ersatz were to meet an Uthax in the North (their native land) they treat them just as they would treat a Panite... but be more cautious not to offend them (they are large, after all). However, when an Uthax is met toward the south, when they loose all their fur, the Uthax are not known even to BE Uthax. While Humans would want to kill them on sight, the Ersatz just give them a wide and cautious berth.
^Ssashirk
Ssashirk thoughts on other races:
Human - Stupid creatures. Harsh and war-like, but poor at war. Good for trade, know no value. GOOD for trade. Tumai are different. Tumai are greatest allies, a wise and powerful people. Mighty warriors.
Ersatz - Less stupid. Dislike war because they are not delusional, and know they are poor at it. Good for trade. Know more of value, trade cautiously.
Beastwalkers - Beast-men. Children of Shadows. Give safe passage.
Kapper - Desert-rats. Bad for trade. Edible when alone.
Panite - Calm people. Good for trade, but far away.
Avian - Sky-men of Order godess. Slayers. Avoid.
Xenokwal - Deep-men. Avoid.
Siren - What is ocean?
Uthax - Powerful beast-men of north-east. Wise and old. Treat with respect.
^Mammalian/Beast-walker
How Beast-Walkers see other races:
Human - Slayers of children. Kill on sight.
Ersatz - Friends of slayers of children... Avoid when possible, kill based on situation.
Ssashirk and Tumai - People of the desert who provided safe passage in our time of need. Be kind to them, but know that they are a people of war and profit. Be cautious around them.
Kapper - Lizard-rats. Pests. Little more than obnoxious. Tasty.
Panite - These are not men. Their heads shall appear on Shadow's altar, and their flesh shall fill the stomachs of our young... but alas, these things do not exist anymore - so we will never know for ourselves of the wonderful feasts they provided to our fathers' fathers.
Avian - They were once our kin, but now serve the sky-goddess. Anger them, and bring her wrath like a neverending rain. Do not anger them.
Xenokwal - A quiet people, polite, and kind.
Siren - People of the sea, so the legends say. We do not believe they exist.
Uthax - Rarely we see these, and when we do, they should be treated as village elders. Be kind to them, for they know the voice of the forest.
^Kapper(But only the adults)
ADULT Kapper thoughts on other races:
Human and Ersatz - A large creature who has a falsely placed superiority complex. They posess very little knowledge of technomancy, but show enough promise that they can be gifted (for a fee) with minimal childish trinkets. One should avoid angering them, for they are quick to kill, and cause the deaths of many foolish kits.
Ssashirk and Tumai - The people who live above the warrens in the desert. They have little tolerance for a kit's antics, and are a danger even to adults. Approach with extreme caution! Though they are intelligent enough to use our Tech, to not provide them with any - they are dangerous enough as is.
Beast-Walkers - These people are dangerous, and luckily do not live in the desert. To help avoid contact with them, stay near humans.
Panite - Panite are a stupid race of people, but friendly enough. No reason to interact with them, really - they have nothing worth offering.
Avian - They are a mad people from the sky. Not like the madness of chaos - but the madness that comes from a place of only straight lies. I would advise to avoid them, but luckily, they do that for us.
Xenokwal - Our brothers of the deep. Xenokwal have Tech that would make a true Technomancer cry with envy. Try to befriend one of these if you ever get the chance, you'll be greatful you did for the rest of your life.. and likely your kits, and their kits will reap the benefits of the friendship as well! A good way to befriend them is to offer to escort them to the above-ground, for though they are curious, they are fearful of it. They do not like kits' games.
Siren - Siren are too good for their own good. Plus, they live in the ocean. Best not make contact unless necessary.
Uthax - An Uthax can be a Kapper's best friend. Though they are peaceful and quiet, if you ever need a bit of force or intimidation factor to back you up, bring an Uthax. Uthax enjoy us for our fingers and cunning and ability to scratch them in all the right places - while any Kapper can benefit from their power. Trading with them is pointless, but an Uthax (like a Xenokwal) could very easily be your in your best interest to befriend.
^Panite/Ungulate
Panite thoughts on other races:
Humans, Erstaz, Ssashirk, Avian - These people (like all people but the Panite nations) are dangerous, but not terribly aggressive. They are kind enough, and worth trading with. Better to trade and bring peace with them than to invoke their anger.
Kapper - Sometimes these creatures are seen around the feet of Humans. Sometimes they also talk. Perhaps these are a people.
Beast-Walkers - Legend tells of these eaters of young flesh. They are creatures of myth and horror stories, but the humans swear to the gods that they still exist. If this is true, best not to leave the village at night.
Xeno-Kwal and Siren - These things do not exist. Do not lie.
Uthax - Uthax are the brothers of our ancestors. They are ancient and wise, and speakers of the forest. Treat them as your brothers now, and learn from their ways when you can.
^Avians
Avian thoughts on other races:
Siren - A great and noble people of the endless waters. Their city is as mighty as our own, but they do not accept our Lady's grace. She allows them however, so they will stay. Be polite to them, and you may learn a thing or two.
Xenokwal - Strangers to the Goddess' grace and land, but live far beneath it. She allows them however, so they will stay. You will likely never see one.
All other races - A small, unblessed nation which needs guidance and cleansing equally.
^Uthax
Uthax thoughts on other races:
All creatures fell from different branches of the same tree. We are all kin to the great mother. Though some may be more difficult than others, one cannot dislike the wind for blowing, or the rain for falling.
^Xenokwal
Xenokwal thoughts on other races:
Kapper - These live right below the surface, we hear them scratching at the rock.
All other Races - What is this?