“I don’t understand why you have to go,” Nicola said plaintively. Luca’s little brother sat on the seaweed mattress, watching him sort through what would come with him, and what would stay.

“It’s a big opportunity, Nico,” Luca said, not turning. They’d had this conversation a dozen times already.

Ten years. Luca avoided thinking how much of Nicola’s life he would miss. How much of Tulu’s, and of little Mikalo, who was five now and would be fifteen when he returned. He wondered what it would be like to come back and see his brother and little sisters all grown up. His tail twitched in agitation, stirring the water. 

There was a  weight limit, and a lot of his wetfolk stuff wouldn’t have survived the dry upper altitudes of Sojourn anyways. Luca’s clothes were already in the net hamper. He’d be keeping an abalone pendant of his family’s pod, and a bag of seven pearls. “We’ll dream together every night,” Luca promised again.

“I know,” Nicola said, voice small. “I miss you already.”

Luca stopped packing to briefly give Nico a hug. “I know, big guy,” he said guiltily.

Nicola was only quiet for a minute before asking again, “Do you know what you’re going to be?” 

Luca grinned. “It’s a surprise. You know that.”

Luca knew exactly what he was going to be. 

“Awe,” Nico wailed in mock outrage, slapping wall with his tail. Then, more quietly, he asked, “Are you scared of the Change?”

“No,” Luca answered lightly. But his chest tightened. He wasn't scared of the change, but Luca was scared of what his family would say when he never changed back.

He remembered how strange it had been when his uncle Antonna had returned last year. He’d looked so much like their mom, but human. No scales or tail or gills. His feet were blocky, his fingers long, and his skin was pink and windburnt. Antonna had brought his human lifepartner Gariqe with him, and Luca’s mom had been so afraid that Antonna would stay human. She’d been almost rude to the poor man, until Antonna finally mentioned that Gariqe was making the Change with him.

Luca had asked each of them, at different times, the question that had pulled his mind like a riptide since he was young. 

“Do you want to stay human?” he'd asked his uncle Antonna.

Antonna still had the crinkly black hair then, and had carded a hand through it as they sat on the dock. He spoke slowly, working through his own answer. “It’s been a good experience, a good adventure. I’ll always be grateful. I’ve always loved exploring, it’s what made me volunteer for a Sojourn in the first place. It’s part of what drew me to Garic.” He shoved his stubby dryfolk feet into the water. “But I miss home. I always knew I was going to come back some day. I’m just lucky, I guess, that Garic would make this sacrifice to be with me.”

Antonna and Gariqe had stayed in the dryfolk village for two months, Sojourn slowly eclipsing the southern sky, before their time came, and they traveled up to Cuibo together. A week later Antonna was back to the fishy boy Luca’s mother remembered from ten years ago, and Gariqe had brand new coppery scales and a thick tail. 

Months passed. Gariqe was like a baby in some ways, learning how to move now his body was different, how to transition smoothly from air to water, how to navigate the reefs. But he was also very curious and open to new experiences. He was a little greedy and selfish, but that was normal of outsiders, and he tried his best to accustom himself to pesci ways.

One night, Luca heard Gariqe and Antonna shouting. In the morning, Antonna wouldn’t leave his room, and Gariqe was in the dryfolk village.

Luca found him, sitting at a dryfolk bar with an open glass of batora. He’d looked at Luca in consternation. “Your mother would kill me if she knew you were here.” 

“Then don’t tell her,” Luca had said, taking the stool next to him. He looked around at the other patrons, all humans. Some looked back, but most ignored them politely. “Uncle Antonna is worried.” 

“He knows where to find me,” Gariqe groused, looking at the batora between his now-webbed fingers. “He always finds me like this, you know. It’s how we first met. Me a mess, and him pulling me out of it.” He sipped the batora. Impressively, he only coughed a little. He must have been practicing. “Why are my gills on fire?”

“Gills are part of the insides,” Luca explained. “It’s like pouring alcohol on an open wound. My aunties usually eat fermented fish when they want to get drunk.”

“Fermented fish?” Gariqe said with some interest.

“Yeah,” Luca said. He pointed. “Why are you trying to drink that stuff anyways?” 

“I miss it,” Gariqe sighed. “That’s what we were fighting about, actually. I didn’t realize how hard this transition would be. Anton tried to warn me, but I thought I knew what I was going into.”

“Do you sometimes want to change back?” Luca's own casual tone rang like a stranger's voice in his ears.

“Go back to human?” Gariqe repeated.

He held one webbed hand to the lantern, watching the faint translucent glow between his fingers. “I haven't told you much about Aelbaion. It's a miserable place. I was miserable. Cold and grim and hungry. My whole family was... well, it's peaceful now, but it wasn't always. I didn’t have anyone and didn't need anyone, I thought. I’d thought, sneaking onto Sojourn, I’d tricked my way into the easy life.” He gave a short laugh. “The Sphinx disabused me of that notion pretty quickly. But then I made friends on Sojourn. I met Anton, someone I could rely on completely. And you, your siblings, Anton’s mom, all of you have treated me like family. How could I give that up?” Gariqe lowered his hand. “So, do I miss being human? Yeah, sometimes. But I’m not going to change back, if that means losing Anton.”

That had left Luca feeling both relieved and a little sad.

Now it was Luca’s turn to make the change. Luca would be representing their people, the pesci, for only the second cycle on Sojourn. This was a right they had fought for, still fought for in the Council of the Twelve on the skylands. Even now, pesci were only allowed to Sojourn if they took a different form for the journey. A precaution, some said, as the intense dryness, cold, and altitude would otherwise kill one of the fishfolk. Others said it was just to keep the pesci grounded. 

This was Luca’s chance to repay the mita. It was also a change he desperately wanted. Luca himself wasn’t quite sure what compelled him, but he knew that he needed a chance to be someone different for a while.

It didn’t take long before Luca joined his parents and sisters in the living room, Nicola sulkily slithering out of their shared room behind him. Nicola had been excited, months ago, to find out he’d be getting his own room, but he wasn’t excited now, when the hour to leave had arrived.

They made a quick supplication to Zepo, the local goddess of frogs and fishing, and then had a family hug before leaving. Everyone pretended not to notice the tears. Luca wasn’t sure if the tightness in his chest was homesickness or excitement.

Antonna and Gariqe and grandma and aunts and uncles and cousins all gave them presents and hugs and kisses at the village docks. Finally, they left their home in swampy Gionu, poling the reed gondola between the house stilts and mangrove trees of the village and towards the shadowed bulk of the island in the quiet darkness before dawn.

They made the shore just as the sun shimmered over the horizon. Luca was soon short-breathed as they trudged up the long road that zigzagged into the highlands of Ombreje. After listening to Tulu complain about her feet and picking up Mikalo to carry for a couple miles, Luca figured out pretty quickly why they hadn’t ever gone to Cuibo before, even though they lived practically beneath it. Altitude made distances deceptive.

It took a hot three hour walk to the harpy village and the hot air balloons, forty minutes waiting in line, and another forty minutes catching their breath and adjusting to the altitude before they landed on the harpy skyland Arpellona, in the square of Cuibo.

The capital was as crowded and loud, but not chaotic. Music soared up with the harpies at every stall and street corner. It was dry and cool, of course, but not unpleasant. Overhead, harpies flew along the skyroutes marked with windsock flags posted throughout the city. Despite the sheer volume of flyers, they flew in harmonized rhythm, like an elaborate dance. Luca had a hard time tearing his eyes away.

They passed through the crowded city and beyond, to the perfectly scooped-out Egg Valley, finally coming into sight of the Vale of the Sphinx. Luca couldn’t stop smiling.

This was it.

At last, they passed through the great double doors and into the inner sanctum, waiting their turn as the Sphinx sat, dwarfing the line of petitioners. Luca tried not to stare too openly at the oldest being in all creation. Although he reclined couchant, feet and wings tucked and tail idly swishing, the Eldest was still eye-level with his human and harpy visitors. His mane and fur were almost totally white and his wrinkled skin was a dark nut brown. His face was leathery like a dried prune, but his pale blue eyes still shone with lively intelligence. Shimmering blue robes pooled around him.

His face brightened when it was the pesci family to be ushured forward. They all bowed low, and the Sphinx nodded in turn.

“Ah, gentle pesci, welcome. It is not often that we see our finned siblings in the capital. How may I help?” His voice was gravely, and though it was nearly a whisper it echoed through the dark chambers.

Taking a deep breath, Luca stepped forward, ahead of his mother. "I seek the Change, Honored One. I will be joining Sojourn this cycle."

“Ah, you come seeking the Change," the old sphinx mused. "It has been a few centuries since last the pesci wished for the Change.”

Luca wondered if he should mention his uncle, but thought it would be rude to interrupt.

“You are to Sojourn in twelve weeks? You will join my youngest.” The Eldest looked far away for a moment, old pain on his face. “I do hold faith with her. In some ways she is the best of us. But we are only three, and I do worry.” He shook his head and returned to the present. “Be that as it may. What is your name, little pesca?”

“Luca Sireno, Honored One,” Luca answered.

“Very well, Luca Sireno. You may approach.”

Luca came forward and dropped to one knee, taking one offered finger of the clawed hand.
What the Eldest said next had the heavy familiarity of ceremony. “The Change is both a blessing and a burden of the People. It allows us to walk on four limbs, to swim with three, to fly or run with two. It opens our eyes to the lives of others. It grants us the ability to choose what we are. Take this gift.” 

The sphinx breathed in Luca’s face, warm and moist and smelling faintly of garlic and bacon. Where the breath touched Luca’s skin tingled with magic. “Be a bridge of understanding among the People. Be brave, little one.”

With that, the sphinx laboriously got to his feet, leathery wings flapping with the effort. “Now is the time to say goodbye,” The Eldest said, nodding to Luca’s waiting, silent family. “When next they see you, you will be reborn.”

Luca got up shakily as well and was engulfed by his family in a steady wave of teary-eyed hugs and admonitions. “We love you,” he heard over and over. “Come back to us,” they begged.

“I love you,” Luca said to each one. He hugged Nicola, and Tulu, and Mikalo, and his mom, and finally his dad.

"The Change doesn't change who your heart," His dad had whispered. "No matter what you become, you will always be ours."

Luca wondered if his father knew what was in his mind.

But then he was being led away by a human attendant through one door, while a harpy ushered his mother and father and sisters and brother back through another.

The hallway was dark and sloped downwards, lit only by the human attendant’s torch. It grew almost chilly underground in the stone heart of the Arpelonna. Soon they reached a softly illuminated cave where a glowing chrysalis the size of a tree pulsed amber and blood red light through the darkness. It reminded Luca of a heartbeat. With a start, he realized the light shimmered in time with his own heartbeat.

Or perhaps Luca’s heartbeat matched the rhythm of the chrysalis.

The Eldest was waiting at the base, even his great bulk dwarfed by the structure. “This is the Relic,” he said, gesturing one wing upwards. It looked to be smooth stone, but the Sphinx stuck a claw into it and cut a hole down to the ground as easily as a spear through fish. Bright light spilled out. The Eldest pulled one corner away like a tent flap.

“What do you wish to become, little one?” He rumbled.

To organize the city and keep it functioning properly, Freeport is divided into a number of districts with distinct purposes and functions, which can be organized into a few distinct categories.

The first are those which may be considered segments of the city center, the dense urban core around which the rest gathers. It is composed of the Docks, the High District, the Temple District, the Canal District, and the Merchant Quarter.

The Docks and the area surrounding them are the city's beating heart. In addition to their namesake, a large and impressive agglomeration of dockworks capable of hosting anything from large trade ships to fishing dinghies and ferries across the channel, most of the district is taken up by a mixture of warehouses for goods and provisions and shops and accommodations for dockworkers, sailors, and those captains wishing to sleep in a real bed without straying too far from their ships. Farther north, near the Canal District, smaller, generally cleaner docks cater mostly to small canal boats and pleasure craft to serve a small cluster of high-end shops which use their proximity to showcase newly imported goods, ingredients, and performers, while to the south where it meets the High District and the city's edge are an overgrown mess of fishing piers with the large commercial dockworks mostly in-between.

The High District is in the unusual position of being both the city's greatest feat of engineering and it's largest slum. Nearly a century ago, inspired both by premature predictions of the dominance of flight and a percieved need to increase the city's density, a number of floating boulders, fragments, and small islands were acquired and transported at great expense to what was previously the poorer half of the Artisan's Quarter before the abolishment of the previous Quarter system. Once there they were anchored in place by a complex series of ropes and supports, creating a patchwork "artificial surface" on which new buildings could be constructed, it's height and extent carefully chosen to meet a nearby hill overlooking the city. In addition to allowing buildings to reach new heights, being anchored at both the top and the bottom, it also allowed a needed upgrade to the city's water system. While a network of aqueducts did exist to draw water from nearby mountain springs, it had been implemented when the city was far smaller, and as it expanded the slack had increasingly been taken up by a mess of rain collectors and wells of widely varied sanitation and quality. With the construction of the High District, several new aqueducts were laid from springs and clear streams in the hills along the top, before passing through vertical pipes made from lead or masonry housed inside buildings stretching from the surface to the islands above. Once at the bottom the pressure made distribution to the other districts relatively simple, although it also made leaks a recurring problem. This also provides a form of fire protection - fire stations at the top of each pipe are able to divery the flow of water from inside to outside the pipe, quickly dousing the building below and it's neighbors and slowing or halting the spread of any fires.

While a novel and innovative concept for a city district, the predicted massive uptick in flight failed to materialize, and most residents found the lack of natural light, frequent dampness, and need to travel to and from home via an often-precarious network of ladders, nets, stairs, and bridges undesirable, and the district soon developed into the overgrown slum it is today. The families that spearheaded and funded the project quickly found themselves on the verge of bankruptcy, and while the layer of floating stones are an iconic symbol of the city the district below them is mostly known for housing cutpurses, scams, disreputable practitioners, and the headquarters of 7 of the city's 8 brotherhoods of rag-and-bone men.

The Temple District, a thin central strip that touches every other district in at least one location, was created to solve a particular problem. Religion in Freeport is both highly polytheistic and highly syncretic - finding a god to devote oneself too is a highly personal choice which young citizens are experiencing to make as part of their passage into adulthood, and nearly every god worshipped anywhere in the world is understood to be real in some capacity. Together with the city's focus on international trade, this led to there being a truly enormous number of temples and shrines declared throughout the city, many with only a handful of worshippers, to the point it began to present a genuine problem in terms of land usage. As one's chosen God also frequently intersects with their chosen career, this was exacerbated by many businesses devoting substantial space to their gods and declaring themselves temples which also provided other services, often using the pretense of religious rituals to skirt regulations in the process. This culminated in a scandal in which a temple/smithy was found to have evaded taxes by accepting raw material as donations then distributing the payment as alms, avoiding any record of an official purchase. In response when the new District system was established, formal temples were restricted to a defined area, kept relatively small but close enough to all other districts to allow regular worship, and new restrictions on business conducted by temples were implemented.

Nowadays the Temple District, in addition to being filled with its namesake, also acts as a convenient pedestrian corridor, it's streets well-maintained in large part out of a desire to welcome in new worshippers, and a form of entertainment, as priests and wise men and women debate philosophy and theology both out of a pure desire to understand the universe and, perhaps more often, to attract small donations from the gathered crowds. It's halls also collectively represent one of the largest bodies of scribew dedicated to the preservation and duplication of texts on theology and philosophy, including natural philosophy, which provides a supplementary source of income as scholars pay a fee to peruse their works.

The Canal District sits a short ways north of the docks, and is in many ways a city within the city. It's unclear how exactly it was started, with canals dug into the shore or artificial islands anchored on the shallow seabed, but both have proliferated over the ages and today the distinction is difficult to draw precisely, leaving a district composed of clusters of building separated by water and connected by a mixture of footbridges and small canal boats. The lack of ordinary roads suitable for carts makes living there somewhat more expensive, as do the costs of maintaining a suitable living space while in such intimate contact with the sea, but this has only made the modestly sized district more attractive for wealthier citizens, who's work, most often paperwork or less space- and material-intensive forms of artisanry if not providing services to the other residents, can be placed apart from the constant hustle and bustle of the city's heart. It has also proven a common location for vacation homes and secondary residences of wealthy businessmen from the Merchant's Quarter, with the close proximity to the docks (alongside a personally owned small boat and a messenger and observer to crew it) allowing them to maintain a close eye on new economic developments even as they enjoy their quiet seaside townhomes.

Lastly, the Merchant Quarter makes a notable break from the other districts in terms of both naming scheme and scale, being the only remnant of the ancient Quarter system to survive the multiple waves of districting reforms. Taking up much of the city's north and east, if the Docks are the center of business with Freeport, the Merchant Quarter is the center of business within it. It contains the residences and offices of nearly every notable merchant or well-off artisan, as well as the city's most reputable shops and largest markets. It's scale makes it impossible for the entirety of the district to live up this image, of course - indeed, the presence of most of the city's major breweries and distilleries, along with various brothels and gaming houses attracted by the wealth of its residents, has led to several streets becoming known for their ill repute - but it maintains its place as the area people picture when they consider Freeport in general, and, in possibly the most direct measure of economic activity available, the area most aggressively fought over when it comes time for the city's rag-and-bone men to renew their contracts.

While these comprise all the official districts of Freeport, there are also a few areas which must be mentioned while laying outside the official bounds of the city itself. To the south, adjacent to the High District, lay an area of slums just beyond the city's walls which supply many of the day laborers and other assorted spare bodies on which the city depends. Further out, roughly a day's travel by cart or carriage, lay a ring of minor cities and towns known collectively as the interstitium, providing an interface with the rest of the nation at which goods from the countryside are processed in manners which add insufficient value to afford them a place in the city itself, and in which industries too noxious for the city such as tanning may take place. And, of course, one must not forget Freeport's sister-city of the same name across the channel, legally part of the city but not part of any properly defined district, which provides a vital connection to the mainland through the frequent ferries and internal cargo vessels passing between the two.

It is only through the interactions of all these elements, the many freeholds and plantations outside them, and the nations further beyond, that the Freeport System, as it is so often known, may be maintained, and the glorious city-state maintained for future generations.

Anatomical influences

The Baaz are a species of large, humanoid avians with a unique physiology that deeply influences their communication style. Although they have almost-human faces, their lips are less mobile and less soft than those of humans, limiting their ability to produce certain labial sounds like “b,” “p,” “f,” and “v.” This is partially offset by a greater range of pitch that humans cannot match.

Sharp-eyed and highly observant, the Baaz naturally integrate visual cues into communication, supported by their highly dexterous long fingered hands. This anatomical structure has shaped a language system that is inherently bimodal, where approximately 70% of communication is vocal and 30% is gestural, blending sounds with physical expression to form a complete linguistic experience.

Blending Vocals with Gestures

In Baaz speech, vocals take on the heavy lifting for conveying the core components of language, such as nouns and adjectives. They also express tense and aspect through tonal inflections, with pitch and rhythm modifying meaning in nuanced ways.

This vocal stream, while dominant, is incomplete without the gestural layer. Gestures, often made using their dexterous hands or subtle wing movements, are responsible for carrying key grammatical elements like verbs, pronouns, prepositions, and adverbs. For example, while a Baaz might vocalize “sky” and “dark,” they would simultaneously gesture “we” and “fly across” to complete the idea. Spoken and gestural elements are not optional but form a complementary system, meaning neither can fully express the intended message in isolation.

Interwoven Writing Script

To capture their dual-modality language in written form, the Baaz developed a bimodal script composed of two distinct but integrated alphabets. The first is a phonic alphabet designed to transcribe the spoken aspects of their language, handling nouns, adjectives, and tonal markers. The second is a gestural alphabet crafted to represent the gesture-based vocabulary, including verbs, prepositions, pronouns, and adverbs.

These two alphabets are written seamlessly within the same sentence structure, resulting in hybrid texts where both types of symbols follow a linear flow. Readers “switch modes” naturally as they move through a sentence, much like how they would during speech and gesture. This dual script allows the Baaz to fully represent both vocal and gestural components of their language on paper, reflecting the unique rhythm of their communication.

Cultural Implications

Amongst the Baaz, communication requires complete attention. Therefore, Baaz often begin with a whistle when initiating dialogue. When one Baaz talks, the others stay absolutely still and focus on the speaker, waiting for them to finish before even nodding their agreement. The only worse mannerism than talking over the speaker is to turn your eyes away from one who is talking. Thus, even when bowing, they expect their subordinates to maintain eye contact.

The Baazian language also varies slightly across regions and situations. For example, in formal settings, words are more enunciated and the gestures are more elaborate. Meanwhile in informal settings, words tend to be shorter and gestures less pronounced, relying on both visual and vocal shorthand as well as trusting the listener to fill in the blanks for skipped words and gestures.

Integration with other races

For most humans, keeping up with Baazian speech would be a very difficult task, especially since many of the gestures are too quick for humans to fully register in rapid succession. This is precisely why the Kaw found great success as the administrative arm for Baaz nobility.

The Kaw are also avians blessed with similar perceptive powers but also completely human faces and unhindered speech. Thus, while their own language is fully vocal, they can learn the languages of the humans and the Baaz.

There are three main languages in Cheelia: Baazian, Kawese and the Common Tongue (language of the humans). The Kaw are usually fluent in all three.

Their efforts have allowed the ruling Baaz to keep their own language as the official language of the nation, but this has also led the exclusion of humans from most government positions despite the abolishment of segregation laws.

NAME: Alcunica

FLAG/SYMBOL: The flag of Alcunica depicts a green mountain set in front of a salmon tinted sun and a pale blue sky. In the forefront sits a mythical artifact of Alcunican culture, the twisted hammer. https://imgur.com/a/xag08Jb Imgur link to all attached post images.

The Alcunican Flag

LOCATION:

Alcunica, home of the Ostevir

GEOGRAPHY: Alcunica’s climate is utterly pleasant, its shorelines are baked in a constant warmth while the many valleys are shielded by the Western and Southern mountain ranges from the cold deserts bordering them.
The aforementioned valleys are vital to agricultural needs of the Alcunicans, providing copious albeit steep terrain for the many terrace farms needed to support the large population of the nation’s cities.
The lengthy shoreline acts as a trade highway to efficiently move massive loads of cargo to anywhere it is needed.
Finally, the Western and Southern mountain ranges are the most important geographic features, protecting Alcunica not just from the cold deserts, but creating a natural barrier against foreign interference.

BIOLOGY/ETHNICITY: Alcunica is inhabited almost exclusively by Ostevir. A humanoid race defined by the plates of bone which cover their skin. These bone plates vary from individual to individual, but their size and quantity are directly impacted by their diet. This “Second Skeleton” makes Ostevir incredibly durable and their muscles are naturally powerful to support the additional mass, but it also comes with disadvantages. The first is weight, depending on the size of the Ostevir their plates can add between 30-50 extra pounds of weight compared to other humanoid races of similar stature. Secondly, Ostevir do not possess sweat glands and thus have rather low endurance. Thirdly, as a result of the prior two disadvantages, Ostevir are incapable of swimming.

This is not to say that no other races inhabit Alcunican lands, but their presence is typically limited to foreign traders looking to profit. To avoid the harsh discrimination of the Ostevir, others who visit or reside in Alcunica can expect to wear porcelain masks designed to mimic the facial plates of the Ostevir elite. Not all foreigners conform to this attempt at appeasing the strict social segregation of Alcunica, these people are met with either respect or disdain depending on the circle.

HISTORY: To go far back, Alcunica began as a conglomerate of Ostevir tribes which dwelled in the caves of the bordering mountain ranges. These tribes first warred with each other, until they experienced the Bronze Age. It was during this time that certain tribes were able to advance far enough past others to force them under their rule, unwillingly at first, but later tribes joined the fledgling nation once they witnessed the fruit of progress. Beautiful cities of marble and limestone inhabited by Ostevir enrobed in gorgeous colors and shimmering bronze armor. 

It was during this time that Alcunica as it is known today was born. Originally Alcunica was born as an Empire with ambitions to subjugate other nations, but before this ambition could be born the ancestors of today’s Oligarchs overthrew the Empire. They had decided in secrecy that profit could be greater if Alcunica was not disposing its people and resources into war, this is the same creed that their ancestors still follow. Despite this idyllic mindset, the Oligarchs were not very different than their dead emperor, they only chose to subjugate their own people over others.

SOCIETY: Alcunica is ruled by an Oligarchy formed from the oldest and wealthiest of their clans. The upper echelon of Alicunican society divides itself from the common Ostevir through not only wealth, but their physical appearance. As mentioned before, the quality and quantity of their bone plates is directly affected by an Ostevir’s diet. The lowest of society who suffer from malnutrition are easily discriminated against by their thin and often malformed plates. 

High society, on the other hand, prides itself in maintaining prime porcelain appearances. Their rich and varied diets promote not only numerous and healthy plates, but in eating a calorie surplus they cause a sort of overgrowth. These bone spurs are highly desirable and are often filed down into alluring shapes.

From Left to Right: A lowborn farmer, a middle class career soldier, a highborn noble of the banking clan.

CULTURE: Alcunicans are a people who perceive a great deal of value in the social standing of the individual, even the highest of nobles hold grand feasts to feed the poorest of their society. Every other part of their culture follows this mindset. Their architecture is most commonly constructed of skillfully shaped and painted marble or sturdy limestone and capped by roofs of brilliant red terracotta. Alcunican clothing is flowing and light to keep the wearer cool, while sporting brilliant colors and geometric patterns to elevate their appearance. 

Food in Alcunica is simple and nourishing, typically served in bowls, Ostevir have a taste for cold and minimally cooked meals. Mixed grains and leafy grains accompanied by cured meats and unleavened breads, with a healthy side of olive oil and diluted wine. Foreigners will note a surplus of fish and pig in the Alcunican diet and a lack of other red meats and dairy, the lack of pasture in the native terrain makes it difficult to source such goods.
Due to the abundance of quarries and mines in Alcunica, masons and smiths are in no short supply and the clans that control these industries are among the most powerful in the nation.

OCCURRENCE OF MAGIC: Magic is seen as a curse in Alcunica, both due to the common belief that no individual should have such power, but also because of the physical effect magic has upon Ostevir. Magic is incredibly difficult for Ostevir to learn, but once understood it seems to almost channel naturally within their blood. 

This is no boon however, Ostevir sorcerers find that this intermingling of biology and magic causes crystalline growths to sprout from their blood vessels, causing exsanguination and organ damage. A common way to avoid such horrible side effects is to drain a sorcerer’s blood and mix it with a coagulant. This mixture can then be used to draw runes to cast spells with the only damage to the sorcerer being bloodloss. However even this is seen as taboo and the black market trade in Ostevir sorcerer blood is snuffed out whenever it crops up.

When it is permitted however, typically only by those close to the Oligarchs, magic is used to improve arms and armor. A sword that can generate a wall of force, allowing the wielder to bludgeon an armored foe. A suit of armor that continuously heals any wounds sustained by the wearer.

FADED WONDER: It is believed that wonders did exist in the tribal era of Alcunica, but as civilization developed and the disdain for magic grew it is thought that they were all destroyed. Perhaps they may be rediscovered, if they exist at all that is.

IMPORTS, EXPORTS, & MAJOR INDUSTRIES: 
Imports:
The most important import in Alcunica is lumber and wooden goods, ranging from carts, to fine wood sculptures, and even whole ships. Other imports that see a lot of traffic in Alcunican ports are dyes, exotic fruits, and leather. 
Exports:
Alcunican exports include, fish oils and olive oil, marble sculptures, metal jewellery, travertine ashlar, and terracotta tiles (both roofing and flooring tiles).

Demani Nests in Ayetho will at times use construction methods which other races may describe as strange, or even alien. The ultimate example of this is the mycelial constructions in Ayetho. The mycelial construction methods practiced by the Demani can be subcategorized into a small number of different methods.

The first method is the formation of mycelial ‘bricks,’ or dead mycelium construction.

This method begins with a base, which may vary by Nest, but is typically a mixture of dried leafs, wood chips, and desiccated plant matter from various sources around the Nest. Some Nests specifically will include insect exoskeletons in their base mix to feed the mycelium. The way the base is structured can also vary, with the size of added material, orientation of fibers, and so on being varied between Nests and varied depending on application.

After the base is gathered, the mycelium is added. Like most other crops in a Nest, the specific type of mycelium is unique to that Nest, at times neighboring Nests even being unable to breed their varieties due to divergences since their initial domestication.

After being added to the base, the mixture is kept in a carefully maintained room in the nest, which is kept warm and humid at all times, though the exact temperature and humidity ranges of the space may vary to produce different effects on the final product.

After a number of weeks, or months depending on the conditions being practiced, the mycelium will seem to stablize, meaning it is preparing to fruit mushrooms and is ready to be removed for the final step in preparation.

Once removed from the room, the mycelial block is either dried or baked to kill the mycelium in the block, locking the structure created in place. Once dry, the block may be used as is, or be carved or cut into smaller blocks for alternative use. Many of the structures in Ayetho lack true masonry because of this practice, and greatly reduces the labor intensity of construction thanks to the material being approximately one tenth the weight of comparably sized masonry stone.

A second method involves allowing the mycelial network to remain alive, if relatively dormant.

This method begins relatively similarly, but with much lighter weight base material, favoring fresh leafs, softwoods, and similar materials. The base form does not take on that of a block like in the first method, but instead is shaped to the need of the object from the offset.

The mycelium is allowed to grow within the base for some days or weeks before the object is removed from the mold immediately ready for use. If or when fruiting mushrooms appear, they are immediately cut off of the object before they may sprout. 

These objects are favored for being waterproof and for having basic self-repairing capabilities, a broken instrument made using this method may be physically returned to its original shape and binded back together by the mycelial network in either half over a period of time.

This second method is seldom used in construction, but often in temporary structures and when in continuous contact with water to redirect the liquid.

Further methods go outside of a particular brooding room for the mycelium, such as direct application to specific surfaces, but this methodology is rare among Demani due to its substantial maintenance requirements. Where used, however, it is said to be capable of repairing damaged walls, floors, and ceiilngs, before being hardened into place with some manner of heat or poison.

And, seemingly found only in the primary Nest of Ayetho, a relatively young methodology uses the mycelium for a firmly non-construction use.

A base of fibrous bark from trees rich in latex and rubber are laid out in strips all in the same direction, to which the mycelium is added.

The mycelium chosen is fast growing, taking only days to weeks to interlock all of the fibers and break them down, creating a plate of latex and rubber rich mycelium.

This plate is then baked at a low temperature, but still enough to fully dehydrate and kill off the mycelium. Once baked, the plate is minced into very fine strips, which the weavers of the Nest can then use to produce a unique luxury fabric to the primary Nest.

The string is somewhat stretchy and is a reflective amber color after baking, when woven into fabric it takes to dye well and is difficult to tear, and is mildly hydrophobic to small amounts of water.

This fabric is particularly labor intensive, and the limited range of its production means very little is produced per year relative to the number of Demani who seek the cloth. Exact methods of production are unusually guarded by its inventors, likely due to it increasing the prestige and control the Aujo holds over the lesser Queens and Nests.

This pamphlet provides an overview of the Church of the Light Givers for visitors. Written by Archivist Merron Trunley.

Basic Overview

The Church of the Light Givers, usually referred to as "the Church", is based on the principle of "Light brings Life", and as such the worship objects of light, the sun, moon and stars (collectively called the Light Givers).

The Sun is referred to as the Father, the Moon the Mother and the stars as their children. The Father is depicted as a tall, fierce and strong man in orange regal clothes. The Mother is depicted as a beautiful, graceful woman in grey or white clothes. Their children are depicted as crystalline humans, due to the fallen star in Starfall being a geode.

The core tenets of the Church reflect the society of ancient Palantis where is evolved, and so preaches peace, community and learning. A core belief of the Church is that magic enters the world through light and as such comes from the Light Givers. They also attribute the decline of magic to the abuse of gifted powers by mages, so the gods reduced the flow of magic into the world.

The Church is subservient to the crown, and is headed by the Arch-Lightbearer in Starfall. Chapels and Churches are a common sight in towns or villages, while cities will often also have a cathedral. The Church doesn't have much impact on the daily life of Palantians, but offers guidance via weekly sermons and will host frequent activities such as community meals, knowledge sharing and festivals.

Creation Myth

The creation myth for Church details how magic flowing into the world was unstable and tumultuous, so the Father, Mother and their children created the earth to stabilise it. The eldest of their children, Luriel, sacrificed himself to become the core and allow the magic to coalesce around him.

The Light Givers watch over Ashagon to honour his memory and used their light to bring life to the world. Followers believe that a large crystal geode resides at the centre of the world, the body of Luriel, and that gemstones are thought to be fragments of either Luriel or another one of his siblings.

Branches

There are several branches of the Church, with the core or "Light worshippers" as the main branch. They rever the light givers and believe magic will return with responsible use, so preach restraint, forgiveness and accountability.

The second largest branch are the Nature Wardens - they believe magic comes from nature, so revere nature and are opposed to the civilisation encroaching on the land.

A small but noteworthy branch, The Betrayed hate the gods for taking magic from the world, seek a way to steal it back by any means necessary. This branch was responsible for many of the atrocities during the fall of Palantis and was banned by King Cillon after the formation of Verdantis, but is rumoured to still exist in the shadows.

Huh, this thread is... you can pull it with ease and it expands instead of snapping. This is very interesting.

I know! This new fiber we discovered along the banks of the Rosorese, it was extremely stretchy. Me and my friends spun the fiber into this thread and it retained that unusual property.

I think we have made a wondrous discovery with this material.

...

This garment is amazing! It hugs your body tight and the cloth doesn't flap around! I can't imagine going back to regular robes after trying this out.

Yeah, that new uzasu'ere thread they used, I thought these robes I got for us were too small until the tailor put it on for me. And the best part?

Hm?

I can feel the wind caressing my body through these clothes.

Ah, yes! It's almost like a second skin, this one...

...

This new material is so handy! I can tie up my hair without having to fiddle with tying a knot with a ribbon.

Yes! I had to fasten a bundle of twigs, and with a loop of this expanding rope I was able to secure them with just a twist or two.

Oh? I was given a chair that had a heavy weave of the stuff, and it was the most comfortable piece of furniture I've ever had the pleasure of using!

Wow, tell me about it!

...

A weapon that doesn't rely on the spring of wood or steel, but of this strange extending rope. So compact, yet retains such amazing power...

Indeed. I was skeptical when they brought that prototype to the armory, but then they demonstrated its capability on the targets in the training range. They tore large chunks of the wooden targets they used, even snapped off a branch when they use that as a target.

And they were just using lead balls?

Yes. They also demonstrated their invention with crossbow bolts, but it wasn't anything we hadn't already seen with our crossbows

Except this tool clearly doesn't have much of a bow limb, yes. I think this system will be a valuable addition to our arsenal.

...

...

For the entirety of known civilization, string is among the most important materials, able to make everything from light woven fabrics and gorgeous embroidery, to weapons like bows and tools like nets, fishing lines, and fire-starters. Without string, civilization would struggle to hold itself together.

One problem of string that no one notices until they've seen it is that most types of string can't stretch very far. Most plant fibers and arthropod silk don't tend to produce highly elastic fibers that would allow the resulting string to stretch out and spring back, more often than not snapping from the resulting strain. Therefore, fabrics had very little stretch, and rope and string had very little give in tension.

That is, until the discovery of a new plant they called uzasoto found near a small village by the Rosorese river.

It produced fibers with wondrous material properties, having such incredible stretch beyond that of traditional plant fibers. Formed into string, it was capable of expanding up to twice its original length and snapping back to its original size without damage or deformation. Formed into a heavy rope, it could store incredible amounts of energy that could be delivered in projectiles as small as a pebble.

As soon as people realized its potential, it made its way in everything, from stretchy fabric formed into form-fitting garments and elastic hair ties, to comfortable furniture with a good spring produced by the elastic weaves, all the way to the invention of the slingshot, a novel weapon design that utilizes the stretch of the uzasu'ere fibers to its fullest in place of flexible wooden bows.

Producing uzasu'ere string out of uzasoto fibers is a delicate process due to the natural elasticity. While most spinning setups pull the string in tension, uzasu'ere spinners need to control this tension to avoid stretching the fibers too much and negatively affecting the stability of the thread. As such, uzasu'ere is more expensive than other kinds of fibers, with production limited to master spinsters around the Rosorese region.

The Audoi have no unified army. Each kin-group (clan) maintains its own militia, equipped, trained, and commanded within the clan. However, full-time professional soldiering is an expensive affair, and many clans cannot afford more than a handful of people kept away from daily labor to sustain the clan. Therefore, a number of active Audoi warrior relatively small during peace time. Despite the absence of a large standing force, the vast majority of Audoi have been trained for combat and weapon handling, including women, because martial arts is one of their favorite pastime activities. Clan Elders actively encourage this culture and frequently organize tournaments for all to participate. These tournaments, combined with years of inter-marriage, exchange of customs, and trade, helped to develop a shared way of fighting among the Audoi, even in the face of their deeply decentralized nation.

-----

Audoi militia can be generally categorized into four roles: Skirmishers, Warriors, Yrkul, and Aekyagt (I am too lazy to think more than 2 given-names for them). From these, the Yrkul and Aekyagt are considered the more professional soldiering, while the Skirmishers and Warriors are not permanent. They gather when needed and disband after the war is over.

Skirmishers are those who take up ranged weapons during wartime, raining arrows and bolts on the enemy from a distance. And warriors are those who favor melee weapons and several layers of armor to fight at close range. Specialized regiments such as siege specialists and demolition miners can form within either rank depending on the original professions of those who serve.

Yrkul, also known as Rangers, are warriors who have taken up arms and sworn oaths to forsake the comfort of the earth and endure the harshness of the wild to keep Audoi land safe from outsiders. They are organized into a semi-official military order and form multi-clan squads to confront the emerging threats. Typically, a lone Yrkul or a small squad constantly roams the surface, standing guard against the many dangers that haunt the wilds of Driftmount. Roaming sky-pirates seek to establish bases in the wilderness from which to raid unsuspecting Audoi settlements or the world below, hostile Driftmount primitive snow-apes, hungry Driftmount predators constantly stalk the wild, and worst of all, turncoat Audoi who have taken up banditry to prey on travelers and merchants. 

In combat, Audoi eyesight combined with their incredible strength makes the Yrkul something unsettling to face. Their arrows arrive from distances far beyond the warbow range of other races, and enemies fall to shots that seem to come out of nowhere. Even hilly terrain, where typical skirmishing would be greatly hindered, does nothing to blunt their effectiveness as the raining arrows arrive only to reveal that a Ranger has already climbed to positions other races would consider unreachable.

Aekyagt, translated as Armored Ones, are warriors who have wholly dedicated their lives to the safety of their community. They serve as police and firefighter during peacetime and form the elite core of the army during war. They take advantage of already impressive Audoi bodies by wearing far heavier armor than most other races could bear, carrying towering shields, and wielding brutal war pikes, hammers, and axes without tiring easily. A fully armored line of Aekyagt is a genuinely immovable object and a frightening sight to behold, yielding to nothing short of siege weapons built to crack fortifications.

-----

The weapons and armor the Audoi use are suited to their dense bodies and their way of fighting.

For ranged combat, the standard weapon is the warbow, a powerful bow of longbow or composite build. Crossbows are treated as sidearms as they cannot match a warbow's punch at the distances the Audoi prefer to fight, though their easy reloading makes them useful backup weapons for infantry. However, a far more fearsome weapon is carried by the Yrkul, monikered the Iron-Bow. Crafted entirely from metal using specialized techniques to hold exceptional spring tension, then further enchanted by magic-smiths, the Iron-Bow is in a class of its own. Rangers pair it with arrows reinforced by steel or bone cores, built to withstand the immense draw force and deliver deadly armor-piercing hits at range.

In recent years, guns have entered the Audoi arsenal. The Audoi appreciate how compact and easy to use they are compared to typical bows, but remain unimpressed by their accuracy at the distances Audoi fight. For now, firearms are mostly used in engagements where speed of shooting matters far more than precision.

Armor varies widely across clans depending on what each can afford. A mining clan sitting atop rich mineral veins can field heavy plate infantry that would draw jealous looks from a petty surface kingdom. Meanwhile, smaller hillside clans lean on layered leather and fur supplemented with metal, and rely on their deep knowledge of every hill, ridge, and blind corner in their territory as their true protection. Most clans field warriors in mixed sets rather than committing to a single type of armor.

------

"Bleed them before hitting them hard."

This is the shared mindset of the Audoi toward warfare. Facing the Audoi means enduring overwhelming ranged combat for a long stretch before catching glints of their infantry metal plates. Rangers often operate several days ahead of the main force, scouting and harassing opponents at ranges the enemy cannot easily answer. When the enemy pushes forward past the ambushes and traps the Rangers have laid, Skirmishers step in and add more pressure to the fight. By the time the enemy reaches the Audoi line, they have been thoroughly bled and must now face the heavy infantry led by the Aekyagt. Through sheer physicality and layered armor, these troops break the enemy wave the way a dam stops floodwater. Few who have faced them want to do it again.

And if an enemy somehow breaches an Audoi settlement and the fighting moves underground, the heavy infantry become worse to deal with, not better. Their ability to see in near-total darkness, combined with armor that shrugs off light weapons, turns tight tunnels into brutal affairs where numbers count for nothing.

Over the years, many enemies have gone to early graves after assuming the Audoi were weak prey, simply because they do not project the power of an empire.

Cheelia used to be a Monarchy when the Baaz lived on one large floating island. From here they govern all of Cheelia below with an iron talon. However, when the Doom shattered their homeland into dozens of smaller islands (hundreds if you count the tiny uninhabited ones), the power was no longer centralized.

Initially, there was great infighting among the surviving Baaz families. They clung to their fractured floating islands and squabbled over the land below, even breaking out into open war. Eventually, cooperation emerged and the Council of the Ascended was formed, where each House was given a permanent seat. The tithe from the lands was pooled (as it did in the Monarchy days) but it was distributed among all the Baaz families in a relatively more fair system (the definition of fair would evolve over centuries though). From this, a new system of governing the different lands emerged: taking turns.

Each year, new governors for all the rural settlements were appointed, with a round-robin system among the Baaz families, that function similar to upper Nobility even in the new system. Meanwhile, the Council of Ascended decided on matters affecting the entire nation with popular votes. This system ensures every House has to serve the nation and thus earn their share of the tithe and other revenue.

After the doom, the Baaz had been keenly aware of the frailty of their power and that if they do not stand united as a race, the other races would usurp them. Yet, there is considerable distrust among them, thus agreeing to appoint a singular Monarch from them is out of the question. Therefore, the key priority they based the new systems of power on is the prevention of accumulation of power in one place. With rotating governors, power is shared and power is ephemeral.

While this new system worked well in rural settlements, it eventually proved problematic in urban cities. Here, the rotating Baaz governors were not getting their grip on power but the Kaw officials that reported to them had begun amassing influence and control over time. Thus change was needed.

Eventually, the modern system emerged in which city states are governed by a rotating council. The members are appointed each year by a lottery: 5 Baaz from the Ascended Lands, 5 Kaw from the Ascended Lands and 5 Kaw locals. The rotation ensures power can’t be amassed by anyone, the large size of the council keeps enough peer pressure to do the right thing and the mix of both local and federal representation equips the council to cater to wider range of problems. The system doesn’t let anyone be a career politician because no one can know when they will be in council.

Furthermore, the council holds most of its sessions in public, and any male citizens who show up may be asked for opinion or called upon to vote on proposals, this ensures the effect of local representation and also leads to locals banding together to lobby for certain issues.
This system prevents corruption (harder to bribe so many people), prevents accumulation of power and keeps citizens more engaged with the political system because they all get a say.

Only strange stories begin in a compost heap. So does this one, and is decidedly strange-it is the story of how Aelbaion got itself out of it's agricultural funk. This doesn't matter to anyone except for the people here, who had not very good food, and not that much of it. They also had a lot of issues with the typical medieval healthcare of the day, which was that there was very little and that was not very good. Despite the fact that Ashagon has magic, it is not typically sufficient to deal with these problems on it's own. One has to be very focus, careful, and understand the problem you are addressing with magic; this takes experts, and those are in short supply. So we end up at the compost heap.

The Kingdom of Aelbaion is widely regarded as somewhere semi-pleasant in the far north; with one or two nice places in the cities, and very little nice anything outside of them. However, Aelbaion has recently had something incredibly unexpected: three decades of peace, all kept together under a pair of fairly legitimate rulers. The second ruler, King Aeldebaric, has even strong-armed something like environmental legislation into existence. How radical! However, there have been far more immediate results from 30 years of peace: the chance to build these compost heaps according to some more thoughtful designs, without anyone driving a warhorse through their houses and killing everyone.

Practically, there is little that is any different or new from what Earth has already seen. People would take things like clipping and chicken droppings and throw them into piles, and then keep an eye on the piles. Sometimes the piles were covered. Often, they were turned over at regular intervals. Occasionally, they were protected by various forms of outbuilding. All of these places had one purpose: to throw the organic material that will become hummus and other forms of fertilizer, and to let it sit as it was broken down by the presence of various micro-organisms. They were a sideshow, in truth, for this material is to be mixed with the dung-heap, which we shall cover next time. The typical compost heap is a pile of steam organic material, sometimes with a base of stone, and always stacked high and covered over with at least one protective layer. The average household has two piles, sometimes three.

Twice daily, the compost pile is fed: after morning mealtime, and at the end of a day's labors. The former is put on the first compost pile by the household, which works with kitchen scraps and the leavings of a kitchen garden. It's product is typically put into the soil when the seasons roll around and the pile itself is mostly finished processing. Worms and certain bugs are encouraged to grow in these piles. The latter pile that accepts the refuse of the day's labors is out in the fields, and may well be a grouping of sub-units that are used to break down extra organic waste not used as ground cover. They are used to capture the raw carbon and nitrogen from a field, and they are typically tapped when a round of plowing is about to begin. The hummus and other output from said piles is plowed under as part of a process of field-wide soil amendment to improve overall fertility.

There is nothing special about these processes in Ashagon, and there shouldn't really be. Instead, what is special that they rapidly showed up at the start of the 30 Year Peace-almost like the inhabitants had been planning on using them. The adoption of composing let peasants put back nutrients into the soil, preventing it from being washed away or farmed out-and allowing them to put the nutrients where they needed them the most. Even after the first five years of peace, when the fact that peace was now a wide reality was truly starting to sink in, their use had already become a basic fact of this new life. The next thing to do was to put magic on top of it; and by the seventh year of the peace, no pile was complete without rot-enhancing poles and a Crown Of Stinks. These magical 'artifacts' were strips of wood made by whichever member of the household had unluckily found themselves more magically inclined that the others; more and more were they made by a local house-witch or journey-wizard. They encourage the growth of bacteria and fungi, and depending on placement, can help to greatly increase the rate at which composting works.

Traditionally, Aelbaion has never had the best agricultural base-it's farmers have always been far more subsistence than they would have liked to be, and it's output has always been limited. This has kept the peace to some degree, and allowed for the centralization of power by letting the Crown control the fertile lands-but it kept everyone else living in a precarious state, and made famines much worse. This low agricultural output prevented much in the way of growth, improvement, or change. But now, with peacetime around, there is the potential for change.

It had been a several day's journey trekking up the mountainside, following toward the origin of where the Demons come and go. Had all gone well, I would not seek such distant shelter, but the springtime floods of the lowlands have left me separated from my village and without shelter.

As it would be, I happened upon a clearing not far from the Demons fortress. From where I was stood, I was able to see the remarkable immensity of their construction.

Outside the fortress, one could hardly miss the Daubers, Thatchers, and Weavers going about endless expansions to the wings, already more than half way wrapped around a substantial sinkhole. The entrance covered in meticulously carved patterns and vibrant paints, although I must say the colors clash to my eyes.

Following the building up, several more entrances for the flying Demons sit well above the surface, how these creatures build so high is beyond my simple education.

Alas, I could not sit and marvel at the fortress forever, and so I went to the Demons in hopes of refuge from the elements.

The Troop at the ground entrance greeted me with little tenderness despite my haggard state at the time, though to my surprise one of their young boys insisted I be helped before I could be turned away, allowing me the rare sight of the interior of a Demon's fortress.

Inside the fortress, the halls had all been built with barreled ceilings, the path tall enough that one would think one of the frightening Golems of the west were resident. Many more young boys were trotting about all throughout the halls, the women busy doing the household work seemingly paying no mind to the boys running about, color on and carving into the walls, some with impressive talent I might add.

The young boy who came to my aide led me to a sitting room near the entrance. Though what he said to me I cannot say, the lad appeared to be a worrisome one and insisted I stay seated. He then left and returned shortly with a woman, whom I can only presume was his mother, and a basket with a large flask and some fresh food. The boy handed over the basket of goods to me, to which I was most appreciative.

After having been fed and drank, the lad continued to motion me around and tug me along, as if showing me around or forbidding going certain directions. I was brought to a number of well ornamented halls and rooms, likely ones done by the boy if his peers are anything to go off. Though there seemed to be little rhyme or reason to why a given room was decorated, with even the storage rooms, vacant hollows, and a lavatory being meticulously bedazzled with artworks.

A small number of nights would pass with me going about like this, being led around by the boy and shown his art pieces, as well as babysitting him while he colored in other spaces of the fortress. Once some time had passed, though, he would lead me back to the entrance in the early morning, where two of that Troop were waiting.

Though I could not understand, the boy must have been wanting me to trust them without being startled, as the Troop then lifted me by my arms into the air, an experience I can scarcely say I would ever like to experience again, and the two flew me to a village some ways down the road from my home, parting me with a small purse of coin to pay for my faire back to my village.

Looking back upon this experience, I must say the men of the Demons spend far too little time with their boys, while their mothers and elders pay them little mind as they get up to mischief. I cannot say the same about their daughters, whom they hid with such secrecy that I scant saw a lass whom seemed younger than a marriageable age.

Despite these oddities, I cannot say the Demons were bad hosts, their sociable young lads tended to me as dutiful little hosts, even if they had to beckon their mothers or aunts from time to time for things they were not yet old enough to do. Should I ever have the opportunity to meet a Demon who freely speaks the common tongue, I would feel assured that one would be a pleasant company to have.

For the time, that is all I have to write on this matter to you learned folks in the city, it is truly lamentable that such kind folks shut themselves in with such voracious isolationism.

Yours truly, a wayward freeman

Demani do not practice traditional agriculture by what standards settled Humans use. In its place, a series of managed forests line the mountainsides throughout Ayetho.

In the regions furthest from Nests, Forest Gardening, infrequent maintenance of desired and undesired species of plants, is the primary means of agriculture. This consists of seven layers; Canopy, Understory, Shrubbery, Herbaceous, Surface, Rhizosphere, and Vertical.

Each layer is specialized to particular foodstuffs from all manner of parts of the plants.

At the top, the Canopy, the tops of the largest trees, is defined by treenuts and large fruits, followed by the Understory, amongst shorter trees, where treenuts begin to be less common and instead medium to large fruits are commonplace, and last among the woody plants being the Shrubbery, which is overwhelmingly dominated by smaller fruits and berries, though a number of herbs may also be found here.

The Herbaceous layer is named for its most dominant item, herbs. However, a number of grains, legumes, and a small number of berries may also be found here. Lower, the Surface layer is a mixed yield of fruits, gourds, and herbs, and the lowest layer, the Rhizosphere, is home to a diverse set of nuts, legumes, roots, and tubers.

The final layer, an outlier, is the Vertical layer. The Vertical layer is situated entirely of vines, leading it to be a good source of small fruits, berries, herbs, and even some nuts and legumes.

Closer to Nests, Forest Gardening gives way to Forest Farming, where simpler management is replaced with direct selection and cultivation of specific plants, many intentionally planted.

Within Forest Farms, specific cultivars of treenut, pinenut, and large fruit dominate its Canopy, with other cultivars of fruits making up the Understory and Shrubbery. The remaining four layers are less distinct from Gardened regions, but will have significantly less undesirable plants, will include far more edible fungi, and may have some specific cultivars depending on the Nest. These Farms are also the primary source of resin, sap, syrup, balsam, and rubber for Demani.

The true unique part to Forest Farming is the zoning of the woodlands to keep certain animals in certain areas, allowing for careful management of their populations and the breeding of distinct livestock while keeping predators at bay. Though less secure than a true Animal Farm, it allows the land to be much more productive for Demani, even when accounting for animals lost to predators.

Final amongst Demani agricultural practices, Urban Forestry occurs directly within and around Nests.

Inside Nests, it is primarily fungi which are cultivated, but in many Nests it is normal to have planters under entryways for herbs, or for plants which prefer cooler conditions, more humid conditions, or more shaded conditions. Some small livestock may also be primarily kept inside Nests.

Outside Nests, exclusively managed cultivars make up every layer of the Urban Forest. Every tree, shrub, herb, grass, root, tuber, vine, and fungus is a cultivar exclusive to that Nest. Though, some may be traded amongst Nests and other nations, or simply crossbred with other cultivars by pollinators. More various and specialized livestock may be kept in the forests proper, or in pens, kennels, or barns.

Going beyond Demani Nests, Humans also exist as inhabitants of Ayetho. Human agriculture is much more recognizable to outsiders, with expansive fields of grains in the lowlands and smaller gardens of specialized crops, as well as pens and pastures of livestock.

Humans also are notable custodians of Ayetho's rivers, making up for their substantially less diverse foodstuffs by seeking more from the streams, creeks, and rivers. Such methods primarily include netting to catch wild fish and crustaceans, or the construction of rock pools and shallows to trap particular species to grow or nurture, including some river grasses, algae, and even cyanobacteria.

Humans also are known to hunt, but due to the extensive control of woodlands by Demani, it is rare and even dangerous due to Demani protection of what they consider their livestock. This misunderstanding is proposed as one of the origins of the colloquial name of Demani amongst Humans, Demons.

Come closer to the fire, little one, and pull your blanket tight. You asked me today what a Drakkin truly looks like, under all the tales and the terror. They are not just mindless beasts; they are marvels, beautifully and terribly made. Let me paint one for you.

Have you ever looked closely at the barn cat’s eyes when the sun is bright? A Drakkin’s eyes are like that, with tall, thin slits that can open wide to drink in the moonlight. But their eyes hold the colors of the sunset and the earth: bright golds, deep greens, fiery oranges, and shining silver. And here is a secret: inside that eye is a second eye. It can spin like a compass needle to make a perfect cross. It’s like they have a magic spyglass built right into their head, letting them focus perfectly no matter how dark or bright it is. They even have clear, hidden eyelids that sweep across their eyes, letting them fly through roaring winds or swim underwater without ever blinking. At night, their eyes glow because they have a special mirror inside them that catches the light twice, letting them see the heat of a hidden mouse and colors in the sky that you and I will never know.

You might think you could sneak up on one if you were quiet enough, but you cannot. They don't have floppy ears like our hounds, just small slits on the sides of their heads. But they can hear a leaf fall in the forest, naturally tuning out the rustling wind to focus only on your footsteps. Even if it were pitch black and foggy, they would know you were there just by feeling the way the air moves and the ground hums.

If you are scared, or even if you are coming down with a cold, the Drakkin will know. They have a forked tongue, like a garden snake, that flicks out to taste the breeze. They can literally taste your feelings and your health in the air! And when they open that mouth... oh, my child. They have four great fangs, curved inward like scythes, meant for a quick end to their hunt. They don't chew their food like we do. Their teeth are meant to grip and saw through bone, tearing their meal into chunks they can swallow whole. The strength in those jaws could crush a wagon wheel.

But do not picture them dragging their bellies on the dirt like a common lizard. No, a Drakkin stands tall and proud. Their legs are underneath them, like a great hunting cat or a wolf, and they walk on their toes, always ready to leap. And their hands! You might think they only have clumsy claws. In truth, they have four long fingers and a thumb, just like yours. If a Drakkin wanted to, it could gently wind a tiny pocket watch or write a beautiful letter with those hands. Even their back feet have thumbs, though they use those mostly to grip a crag of rock when they perch.

Their skin is a wonder all its own. Imagine armor tougher than the king's best steel, grown right out of their bodies. Around their neck and belly, the scales are huge, overlapping like the wooden shingles on our roof. When they breathe and move, you can see the edges lift and settle. On the rest of their body, the scales are smaller, locked tightly together like a pebbly mosaic. They never shed their skin like a snake does. Instead, their scales grow with them. As a Drakkin gets very old and wise, its scales might chip and crack at the edges, losing their shine. Sometimes an old dragon loses a scale, and the new one that grows back is thinner and weaker. Because their armor is so thick, the older they get, the less they can feel the gentle touch of the wind.

And we cannot forget their grand tail. It is a long, thick whip of pure muscle. In the sky, they use it to steer through the clouds. In the water, it propels them like a mighty ship. On the ground, it can sweep a man right off his feet. Beneath the base of that tail, where any creature is most vulnerable, they have smooth, hidden slits. All of their delicate parts, even the ways they make new baby Drakkins, are safely tucked away behind their tough, scaly hide, perfectly protected from harm.

But the most magnificent part of a Drakkin, the part that darkens the sun, are the wings. Picture the wings of a bat, but large enough to cast a shadow over our whole farm. The skin is tough, smooth leather stretched tightly across incredibly long, bony fingers. Their chests are thick with muscles stronger than oxen, built just to pull those massive wings down against the air.

So, if you ever see a shadow pass over the moon, remember: it is not just a monster up there. It is a masterpiece of the sky, tasting the wind, seeing the invisible, and wearing armor of steel. Now, close your eyes, little one, and dream of the sky.