Clueless Delver

The scent of charred clovergrass filled Domel's nose, along with the morning scent of fresh mud as he rode alongside his master in the direction of the Twin Sprigs. Unlike the many other knights and their lancebearers, Domel's master, the Iguana Knight Oad, and himself were riding at a much slower pace and clearly not in lockstep with the rest of the nights. Domel could feel nothing but unease as he saw this - all his life he had been training to match the rhythm of other riders, to work in synchrony - as was chiseled in his mind by his instructor. But for nearly 3 cycles now, the elderly Iguana Knight had thrown all of what he'd learned off the branches - as what the village folk from the branches of the Twin Sprigs would have put it.

One of the prominent Poetic Orders of Lal-Mit - extremely influential and wealthy guilds of Poet-Riders who devote their lives to the learnings of ethics and poetics of combat, seeking to elevate the act of war into a refined art, above the savagery of primal slaughter.  The Order of Oriole has core tenets that elevate the concepts of alliance and co-operation, and as such has the largest membership of Riders which devote their service to assembling bands of riders given the title of Rescuer who often tread into dangerous territory to rescue peoples who are stranded, trapped, or abducted.   The Order is led by the direction of the Grand Poet, who is advised by a council of High Orioles, who are greatly travelled riders that gain key tidings that inform the Order's doings on a grand scale.

 "A misfortune, truly for travellers. But It is one that will come to pass eventually, as the region stabillizes," the slant eyed young man added. "But who knows how long that will take?" Gumue spoke to which neither man, young nor old replied. And so the three continued their way towards the Twin Sprigs, following the lead of the line of travellers, accompanied by the rhythmic steps of the army that marched rapidly alongside.

An extremely rare and expensive poison used in magical concoctions said to be able to nourish the soul by wasting flesh. Found in small pockets deep underground, and are said to be the tears of the primordial Sulmat of the Saltwaters who wept as she gave birth to the first of the Gods.  Only the most wealthy and the leaders of the polities of Ulrunir are able to obtain Silver Tar, with the latter employing highly skilled teams of Geomancers to locate their whereabouts. Other than from these prospections, Silver Tar are also obtained from a variety of auctions, demanding prices of astronomical proportions. It is said that given to the right master, Silver Tar can be made in to medicines that can cure any disease and even prolong life, and it is rumored that it is through their consumption that the Leaders of the Polities have lived for hundreds of years.

 Gumue fell silent for a moment hearing the Old Man's words, remembering the devastating skirmish that occured some time a few nights ago. "Do any of these bandits happen to ride Iguanas?" Gumue eventually asked. A worried expression formed on the old man's face as he looked towards the slant eyed young man who did the same, looking towards the old man. "Seems like the effects of the conquest have already taken root..." the slant eyed young man muttered. "Much of the peoples of the barklands herd frogstock atop iguanas, and many tribespeople are skilled iguana riders," the old man explained.

A type of building material used in early northern Ulruniri architecture. While many buildings across the cultures of Ulrunir are now mainly made of bricks, clay and rammed earth, their forms once existed as wooden prototypes. In particular, Owlwood was reserved for the most sacred and important of ancient buildings due to the presence of owls who nest, and roost safely within, giving it the association of protective and warding energies. Today, Owlwood is occasionally used to erect makeshift temples in extremely remote areas at the frontiers of Ulruniri territories, where access to brick is not readily available.

 "Lord Humvird... no doubt returning from another triumphant conquest of another part of the Wilderbark," the slant-eyed young man spoke with a solemn tone. Gumue looked curiously back at the slant-eyed man, who now appeared to bear a somber expression. "Is that bad news?" Gumue asked. "Well, good - for the Lords of the Twin Sprigs. But bad for us travelling folk. The attacks make those in the Wilderbark restless and take to banditry," the slant-eyed man replied. "Good lady, I'd advise against travelling from out from the Twin Sprigs at least for a good cycle. Unless you have money to hire guards, the barklands is bound to become more dangerous now," the old man added.

An ancient rite of becoming sworn siblings that is rumored to have began from the Warring Tribes period of Ulrunir, where the whole of the land was splintered to 36 to 48 tribes.  Recorded in the Pottery Annals, containing a sensationalized history of the events during the period, is the tale of Mace Lord Kur-Adil, and the Geomancer Zir-Agat - the eventual warlords of the brother-tribes of Unudul and Cagash who are often told as the protagonists of the Pottery Annals who often fought and triumphed despite being outnumbered by larger tribes. In the Tale of the Cypress Garden, the young Kur-Adil and Zir-Agat exchanged cups filled with plum-salted diluted vinegar becoming sworn brothers, agreeing to die only in battle together. The Tale is highly popular among the common folk and is also frequently re-enacted in many plays typically in Ninur-Sin and Agash - who inherit much of their culture from the ancient Unudul and Cagash tribes.

Gumue followed the line of travellers while gazing at the stream of rapidly advancing iguanas and lace wielding footmen who marched in orderly ranks at a rapid pace at the tail of the initial column of cavalry. Their faces were obscured by a headscarf-like helm made of beige leather that bore a metallic visor which afforded vision through a narrow slit and were dressed in a breastplate that only covered half of their chest and baggy looking trousers that seemed to overflow like foam frothing from their metal plated boots. At the front of each column of around 40 footmen was a standard-bearer, whose helm was made of red leather and wore a falchion on his belt. "That is a lot of soldiers..." Gumue remarked as she tried to look at the end of the advancing soldiers, but could not find it no matter how far she looked.

A much dreaded state of weather involving no wind. Dreaded by boating and sailing folk due to its slowing of travel through water, and also for its associated bad omens and folkloric associations to impending catastrophe. Stillwind is also a hot topic greatly studied by aspiring arithmancers of Lal-Mit, who attempt to model the flow of wind through highly complicated calculations and formulae, likely inspired by the tale of the Divine Farmer Hum-Bibir who was said to have successfully predicted the change of Stillwind four times during his service to the Lal-Mittic Strategist Aza-Shurau during the War of Five Lakes which saw the clash between navies of Lal-Mit, Ninur-Sin, Uru-Sit, An-Ligir and Agash.

 "Make way! Make way for Lord Hirmvird's host!" the loud voice of a young man bellowed followed by the sound of a loud trumpet blaring from afar from behind Gumue. As soon as it was heard, much of the line moved towards the left into a narrower file almost naturally. Though Gumue was lost for a second and remained walking where she was, she saw the Slant eyed young man and old man beckon her to follow the rest and she quickly jogged towards the line along with the rest. Just as she was about to ask about this happening, the sound of the trumpets grew louder and larger in number, as she saw from behind the line approach - along the now freed up side of the road, the approach of a horde of beaked iguanas upon which numerous armored people holding up lances rapidly marched along at nearly twice the speed of the line's slow, leisurely approach to the Twin Sprigs. As they swiftly advanced, Gumue saw the a tall standard held up by one of the riders, depicting a red serpent ...

Also known has the Omen prawn, the Sandalprawn is known for its remarkable flat anatomy that resembles a straw sandal. Large numbers of Omen prawn are known to flock about in vast lakes as an omen of disasters such as earthquakes. Yet despite its association with I'll fortune, it is said to be highly delectable and rich in fat and is also rumored to be part of the Feast of Heroes that the Heroic Thrones of Ninur-Sin partake every 3 years.

"Following? Who would follow such a buffoon who spews nothing but poorly remembered drivel?" the slant eyed man harrumphed. Soon the two began to bicker with one another as they continued along the line and approached closer towards the Twin Sprigs. Continuing to chuckle at their acerbic but spirited exchange, Gumue gazed upon the Floating Swamp wistfully. A many revolutions ago, her world was naught but a cave and the sight of the moons, the dark Anthre and occasionally the dreadful light of the Resplendence which reflected from the clouds, and her mentor. Never could she have imagined the Spoke contained such wonder and activity - the thought of it stirred her heart, bringing a smile to her face. Though not too long ago she was victim to the terrifying violence of the Spoke - she saw it an adequate cost for having the chance to bear these sights.

A sacred artefact of Lal-Mit said to be the inheritance of the highly enlightened tribe of Shar-Napash. The cylinder bears the radius width of ten camels, and is intricately inscribed with fingernail sized characters of classical Napashic script, infamous for its terse syntax and references to other texts not inscribed upon. The privilege to view the cylinder is only permitted to those who pass an exceedingly difficult exam that occurs twice a year. Thus far, only miniscule part of the cylinder has been translated, and it is said to bear the secrets of arithmetic and sacred geometries.

 "Ahem..." the young slant eyed man coughed loudly from behind as he heard the old man's words, causing the old man to furrow his brows yet again. "What now?" the old man asked. "Oh no, nothing. Just a little bothered by a few inaccuracies. Please, do continue," the slant eyed young man smiled as he gestured gently towards the old man. "Hehe..." Gumue chuckled slightly as she saw the exchange. "Do the both of you know each other? You seem to get along quite well." "Get along quite well?" the two men repeated with incredulous looks on their faces. "Hardly! Its this snivelling stripling that keeps following me wherever I go!"

One of the most sought after creatures of Ulruniri freshwaters for their value as bait for large fish and their extremely nutritious liver oil. Eelbait are finger sized white scaled eels that swim in large schools using the faint lightning in their hearts to ward predators. The strength of their lightning compounds as they flock together, allowing them to ward more dangerous creatures, but alone they are vulnerable. Their liver oil is known to greatly boost vitality and strength.

An awkward silence ensued thereafter as Gumue and the two strangers strolled along with the line of travellers for a moment before Gumue turned to the old man and spoke. "So... What who is this Librarian Prahfar and why does he own a floating swamp?" Gumue asked. Upon hearing Gumue ask, the old man's expression grew more gentle and with a large grin on his beared face he replied. "You must have come from afar - so let me explain it simply. Librareiter Prahfar is one of the longest lived people in the Spoke! And was said to have been an advisor of an ancient empire 3000 cycles ago. He is said to have collected many tomes of knowledge and mastered great magics allowing him to move that swamp according to his will! It is this ability to command a moving library that has earned him the title Librareiter. In short - Prahfar is an immortal, with a great deal of knowledge and power! And no doubt many have come here just to see him!"

One of the most popular pets kept by the peoples of Ulrunir. Loved for their loyalty, intelligence, energy and beautiful fleece which varies in colour and pattern depending on breed. The fleeced hound is known to be companion to people of all walks of life, from the destitute to the most wealthy of merchants to rulers of lands and even to storied deities of yore. It is said that the Deity of Love Anena sent her dark hound Anre to protect the first peoples and there are rumors that all dark hounds are descendants of hers.

 Gumue slowed her pace as she looked towards the tiny old man who was of a swarthy complexion, bore white matted hair and a curly beard tied at the end through a red bead. He wore pleated robes the color of clay and sat cross legged atop the back of his ox which plodded slowly along with the travellers heading toward the Twin Sprigs. The old man rose a finger and opened his mouth to continue his explanation - but it was suddenly interrupted by another voice which came from beside Gumue. "Ahem! I'd like to interject for a moment. That is not called the 'Flying Swamp' - its proper name is Jaalcrun, the Mired Archive," spoke a tall, squint eyed young man in wearing a topknot in a intricately woven but worn blue robe carrying a tall wooden backpack with a tome hung across his torso.  The moment the old man on the ox saw the young man, his eyes furrowed - accentuating his the deep wrinkles on his face.

A legendary tower said to have been built by the Dreamlurker in the realm of Dreams, witnessed by 5 masters of the astral arts who describe having seen the same structure in the astral realm. Many psychics and practitioners of the secrets of the mind seek the Astral Tower in hopes of gaining the inheritance of the Dreamlurker rumored to be left there. To this end, these experts train tirelessly in the art of astral projection and on perfecting the clarity of their minds as it is said gaining volition in the realm of dreams is exceedingly difficult.

 "Wow..." Gumue whispered softly to herself as she witnessed a long line of various travellers, packhorses, carriages and wagons winding nearly a quarter of a league between the gentle moss hills moving slowly across the dirt path that led to the towering Twin Sprigs that soared high above into the Anthre. The sight she beheld left her speechless as she looked up towards the intricate branches high in the air upon which she could make out all manner of settlements, from villages to walled cities that would likely take numerous cycles to explore completely. As she gazed in awe, suddenly a large colossal object in the air came in to her sight from afar. "What in the world is that!?" Gumue could not help but speak to herself loudly in surprise as she saw it, causing the many travellers around her to look at her. After bowing apologetically for making a din, an tiny old man in a cloak riding atop a corpulent ox spoke. "That is the Library of Prahfar the Librareiter...

A deceased Hero of Ninur-Sin who once held the Throne of Glass. Twin brother of Ash-Bezil. His symbol was the winged bearded manticore with a crown of horns, entangled in grass, holding Sicklesword and Fire in both claws. Ash-Ulkal was particularly known for his love for war and conquest in contrast to his more diplomatic brother, and saw the largest increase in territory of Ninur-Sin as he invaded Lal-Mittic lands. He is remembered by his title Sageslayer, for his heroic feat of slaying 3 of the venerable Archsages of Lal-Mit in the earth shaking Battle of Dates, after which he only survived a month longer before succumbing to a vile curse placed upon his body, which was said to have forced his soul to be removed from his body. While the battle was long past, considerable numbers of historians continue to bear this grudge in spite of gradually improving relations between the two polities as of late. Ash-Ulkal's throne was succeeded by his wife, Mir-Elesh, Heroine of Light who rule...

 And so only one path seemed to have the greatest chance of success. Yet he did not think his plans would have been interrupted by the sudden ambush of this rage-filled youth who glared and him with wrathful eyes as he struggled yet again against his bonds to no avail. Hajer only raised an eyebrow in response to the boy. Are you trying to kill yourself?  That was what he conveyed with his expression as the boy winced as his bonds grew tighter in tandem with his struggle. Then suddenly - A rustle followed by the sound of clashing metal. Hajer's expression turned to fury as he just barely blocked with his axe a sudden cut of the sickle from another boy who suddenly appeared from his right. At the same moment, immense bloodlust filled his mind as he drew his second axe from his girdle. But that bloodlust would soon be forcely quelled by himself as he kicked the other boy's belly with his foot - causing him to crumble a few feet away - winded. Hajer's eyes narrowed as he saw th...

A mythical cauldron made from the trunk of an ancient oak tree said to have been used by the First Healer to concoct the First Medicines, one of the ancestors of the Archsages of Lal-Mit. While there were no shortage of crucibles fashioned from clay, crystal, and granite during the early ages of Lal-Mit, the First Healer was said to have been struck with divine inspiration, revealing to him the secrets of brewing with a wooden cauldron without it turning into ash. This extraordinary display propelled Lal-Mit to the forefront of hidden knowledge which the best of her people devote their lives to.  Yet to this day, while many secrets of magic have been uncovered, the secret of the Cauldron of Oak remains unknown, and it is often used as an idiom for transcendental knowledge.

The feather certianly fit the description of that which he had read once in a tome of the remains of the forgotten Librareiter two cycles ago. Either way - with such an item he was bound to be able to gain audience with a Librareiter. There had to be some way they obtained their feathers, and he was sure that if he put up a feather for auction in one of the cities in the Twin Sprigs, he would have the chance to meet a Featherstrummer, or someone related to a Featherstrummer.

One of the most infamous cities along the Musulsudu High Canal. Known for its unusual forgiveness of most crime except Barley-field plundering and arson, and its large amounts of crocodile merchants that come to it from the Swampland Canal-approach that allows access from the High Canal part of the city to the swampland below.  Unlike most ordered and neatly architected cities of Muslsudu, Crocodile Market is extremely disordered and made of a haphazard arrangement of swamp wood crafted rafthomes that connect with one another intricately. The Crocodile Market is the home to many dangerous individuals and societies but also is seen by many as the City of fortune, profit and unusual work - with many willing to pay large sums of money to those brave enough to accomplish the tasks offered.

The sight of a gray feather with the with the striking reflectivity of a mirror came to Hajer as he opened the box he retrieved from the fallen ranger whom he slew as part of a task he had undertaken a few revolutions before. The box was coupled with a tiny scroll upon which was written the words "4th Thond Street, Sullec Township". Could it possibly be a feather of a Steel Condor? He had thought so at the moment.

The symbol of the Immortal Heroes of Ninur-Sin - It is often depicted as a black bronze sculpture of an entwined length of cloth. The seal of the coil is always present in any heroic edicts sent from the Thrones, and all subjects of Ninur-Sin are expected to obey the contents of all edict. Forgery of the edict is punishable by execution. The black bronze sculpture of the coil is also specially delivered to various Heroic Shrines through the frontiers of Ninur-Sin's territory, and it is said to ward evil, malic and dark forces that are said to plague the such areas.

Given this dilemma, Hajer could only occasionally glance occasionally at the bound boy as he struggled unceasingly against his bonds. Hajer had considered making himself scarce and leaving the boy to his devices - but journey through the night was highly dangerous. While like most the beings of the Spoke (save the profane Resplendents), Hajer commanded greater mastery of mind, body and grain during the night, that was similarly so to every other being. Thus all fighters saw it the most expedient and prudent to fight during day when the outcome of combat was more determined by one's experience and skill, which significantly conserved strength as opposed to the more brutal exchanges of sheer might that dominated the nature of combat through the night. Though Hajer was confident he could make a force a fast march toward the Twin Sprigs, he was in unfamiliar territory, and he deemed it a risk he was unwilling to take. And so with his eye on the fidgeting boy once again, he let part of ...

A musical composition of unknown origin, rumored to have been left behind by a deity who materialized upon the land, long before man set foot upon it. Written for the lyre, the etude demands significant technical accuracy and at a high tempo, with the sheer speed of some sections producing harmony with only a single melodic line. The mark of an transcended master of music is to be able to play the etude without error at its original tempo, and only 2 are said to have mastered it - the first being the immortal Hero of the Bronze Ash-Bezil, of the Covenant of Heroes, and the second was the prodigious Sum-Ahal who dedicated his short 19 years of life to spreading the joy of song to all of Ulrunir.

 Hajer sat by the fire gloomily as he looked across the night sky. A small campfire of warm red embers danced about, slightly lighting half of his face. Toward the horizon laid the Twin Sprigs - one of the most properous regions in the area. Hajer made a decision to head there as it seemed to him to be the most likely place to be the intersection of all of the three likely pathways he could take to complete the task that was given to him. "Surely you must have heard of the great immortal Librareiter Prahfar! Ahh... Mayhaps you are not of this Qeleres?" the gruff bladesman spoke as he grinded his human-sized cleaver with his jade-colored whetstone. "If there's anyone to know of the Great Pollen, other than the Grand Magistress herself, it must be Prahfar! I believe from hearsay he's headed to the Twin Sprigs on his Flying Swamp." "To be honest, I'd like to go see it for meself, but my wife would probably be furious," the man chuckled as he slipp...

A festive observance in Ninur-Sin and bordering regions of Lal-Mit. The festival typically from 2 days up to a week, and involves much musical merrymaking, in particular of the clay pipe. The practice is said to have been started by the wandering piper Ninbul-Ak who walked from Ninur-Sin to Lal-Mit constantly playing on his clay pipe, only stopping to sleep or eat.  The song of Ninbul-Ak was said to be so beautiful that many creatures from the wild and peasantry came to hear his song, bringing him food and refreshment, and soon joined him in a musical procession as they crossed to Lal-Mit. It is believed that making song in Ninbul-Ak's name brings great bounty, and more merry would thereafter bring yet more abundance.

 "My duty is done..." Sophma spoke as he finished his telling and prompty raised from his seat, quickly turning about to leave. "I shall pray for your good fortune, Elder Shurmo..." Shurmo did not even bother to reply as she caressed Yeiluma's short hair as he slumbered softly on her lap. With a bitter, smile Sophma swiftly returned to the floodplain outside, covered in mistrain. Shurmo took slow, deep breaths as gazed wordlessly outside - which bore only sounds of soft rain at the stepping sounds of Sophma's parting. Though her countenance appeared calm, a great fury burned within her breast which was only contained by the cold facade that was her flesh, hardened by many cycles of firing during her prime. There were no shortage of moments during Sophma's telling where she wanted to burst into a choleric tirade. Yet her honour did not allow her so - for she could only accept that it was her weak will to not sacrifice her grandson in exchange for the dign...

The branch of a lucratively grown incense tree, typically used for smoking due to its stimulating effects when fumes it releases are inhaled. Typically fashioned into short, finger-sized cylinders which are bored through at the cross section. The smoker burns at the end of the branch which is painted with red ash, easily ignited by flint. The image of a Ninur-Sinian soldier or raft rower is typically associated with one with a Fulgurine poking out from the corner of their mouth.

Sophma's brows furrowed slightly as though she had heard her silent insult, but bore a resigned smile on his face as he put Yeiluma down on the ground and sat cross legged on the rug covered floor before Shurmo. "I know there is nothing I can say to appease, but still however treacherous I may be, I wish to carry out my obligations as disciple..." Sophma bowed apologetically again. "You don't have to repeat yourself. I understand. Speak - and leave," Shurmo waved curtly at Sophma who could only smile bitterly as he bent up from his seated bow and began to speak. From Sophma's tidings, Shurmo's mood only soured. It seemed that the Council of Ancients whom she had rest all her hopes at would amount to nothing more than a token resistance. For one had already set off towards the Far Reaches - after being convinced by the Priestess, leading many more along his trail. Further, there have been hearings of the Acolytes of the Priestess harrying leisurely mo...

One of the main weapons commonly found throughout Ulrunir, carried mainly by nobles or warriors of high status as a symbol of command. The first Sicklesword was said to be first created by the Heroic Farmer Kaga-Sumsir, one of the precursor heroes who brought salvation and hope to the commonfolk against the Flood Sorcerers who enslaved the pets of the ascended Deities to lay destruction across all of Ulrunir. Frustrated at having his barley ruined time and time again, he reforged, with the flames of his fury, the broken sickles found in areas of ruin, trampled by the Beasts of the Flood, into the Precursor Sicklesword, which could cut the flesh of the beasts as sickles reaped barley. And after the First War of Salvation, much of the ways of Sicklesword forging had spread across the land.

The wet footsteps from outside Shurmo's tent grew louder as Shurmo stopped knitting and just sat silently. "Sophma... Come to harass this old lady after you've learned everything from her?" Shurmo spoke in a sarcastically bitter tone with a cold smile on her face as she heard a sigh escape from the approaching young man outside. Soon, Shurmo saw her grandson Yeiluma turn towards the direction of the young man. After a few moments, he began exclaiming excitedly, "Uncle Sophma!", as he ran towards the young man who soon came into the view having picked up the energetic boy with a single arm. The young man named Sophma was tall, well built, swarthy in complexion, and but bore a gentle countenance that stood in stark contrast to his formidable body that was draped in the fabrics of the Envoy of the Priests. Like all entrusted with sacred duties, he wore his hair long in dark colored ponytail which was topped with the crest of the Circumpunct wrought in Azure Bra...

One of the most important herbs exclusively grown in Ninur-Sin. Known for its pleasant but striking aroma that invites alertness and freshness throughout one's innards. It bears an unusual appearance of a pillar of white sand, which makes it exceedingly difficult to spot. The circulation of Wakeroot is very strictly monitored by the Throne, and trade of Wakeroot is only permitted between leaders of polities. Wakeroot is grown in secret Heroic Groves that are heavily guarded but are known to be glorious cornucopias of rare herbs. It is for this reason also that the reporting of newly discovered Wakeroot is highly rewarded, and may even potentially result in one being bestowed a title.

 The sound of the mistrain accompanied by the chaotic sounds of splashing mud from her frolicking grandson faded as she rapidly worked the yarn - no sound was made by the her needles, as a series of stitches appeared in nearly an instant, continuing the intricately patterned fabric which coiled about her tent. But despite her concentration, a spark continued to linger in her mind - that soon lit a flame in her thoughts - seducing her mind to wander back to the passion that she had forced herself to leave behind. If it were her during her youth, there was little doubt she would have made a mistake in the stitch at this moment. But as she completed another pattern perfectly - she snuffed out the flame in her minds eye. Soon all became submerged in peaceful, warm darkness - as it was meant to. And the world became only her fingers and yarn. Yet somehow another spark came from outside the world - this was different, not born of her thoughts. "What do you want?" she spoke loudly i...

The most popular in the domain of Ninur-Sin. The Plume-headed Hamster is highly sought after by peoples of all walks of life. The lowest strata often, Plume headed Hamsters are employed in hamster-fighting and gambling, while higher strata often collect rare-plumed hamsters and teach various tricks to them. They are also rumored to be used by sorcerers as spies.  The popularity of the Plume-headed hamster is so high that other polities use the Hamster as a caricature of the peoples of Ninur-Sin - and sometimes as an insult which to some may be of considerable annoyance but to others may also be of pride. Still, it is known that other polities search high and low across Ninur-sin, hoping to find hamsters of rare plume, which can fetch exorbitant prices to the right buyer. Further, some of the wealthy are even willing to spend large sums of gold to purchase various hamster-grooming products and some have even hired architects to build diorama homes for their prized hamsters, which is...

Shurmo awoke slowly to the sound of mistrain. While she could feel the cool air rush across her face - it felt less biting as she had remembered it in her youth. As she reminisced the beautiful memories she had almost a hundred cycles ago, she could not help but feel pity, as she saw her grandson playing with the two saplings that were all that was left in upon the barren floodbark. She could not help but feel furious at the Priestess of the Darkwaters, and her absurd prophecy - which somehow took all of the world by feverish submission. It was their home! Why did they have to leave on this ridiculous journey? If not for her only grandson, she would have stayed along with the Council of Ancients - she would have given her all to stop her from evicting the whole of the Kumiri from abandoning their home. As she let loose a sigh, she looked down at the partially complete knitwork on her lap and continued. There is no use dwelling on it... Shurmo thought as she forced herself to clear her ...

A yearly ritual carried out by the Thrones of the Heroic Covenant said to be able to forecast the fortunes of the Covenant with incredible accuracy. The process of the heroic divination is extremely secret, and only surmised due to the large shipments of mirrored clay to the Heroic Capital near the ends of the year.  All discussion of the divination ritual are socially considered to be taboo yet is not enforced as a forbiddance in the society. Yet, loudly talking about the Divination may cause one to be socially executed due to the folkloric tale of how the First Priestess of Divination purportedly used it to announce the fates of people, ultimately earning her retribution from the heavens.  Yet curiously, fictional accounts & indirect language about the divination rite appear to be throughout the society. According to one tale, the Progenitors of the Thrones would each get a turn per year harness the power of divination from the rite, but as they began to use its power ag...

Gumue's thoughts froze for a second as she blinked her eyes at the sight of the painfully heaving boy - as though she thought what she saw to be false. But as she saw the boy's chest rise and fall yet again, she felt simply awestruck. Surely it would be impossible for one to still be alive after losing an entire forearm! Yet the boy's breathing clearly proved otherwise. "You're just as unlucky as me... You are a goon, I'd rather not be as ruthless as the one whom I curse..."" Gumue thought as walked to the boy's side, tearing out a piece of her manteau to use as dressing for boy's wound - which seemed to be partly closed, but still leaking blood. After quickly tying the wound in a fancy knot, Gumue rose and looked about the area once more, taking a deep breath of the wet air, turned about and made her way in the direction of the Twin Sprigs that soared through the cloudy Anthre swaddled with the quilts mist-rain.

One of the prominent dynasties that own many barley fields, land and titles throughout Ninur-Sin. They bear the crest of three blue adzes on a white background. The Bulsun are known for their brave and able bodied kin, calm demeanor, and justness that earns many of them the role of bodyguards, scholars, judges and officials. They are also known for opening schools of martial arts that they use to levy greater numbers of decently skilled troops to serve defend their lands. They are particularly known for their unquestionable servitude to the Heroine Enendi of the Emerald Throne of the Covenant, as it is said she was very close to the Matriarch ancestor of the Bulsun who swore that all those of her line would eternally be in service to Enendi's will.

What a horrible sight... Gumue thought to herself as she crawled to the nearby wagon to pick herself up, only to have it fall apart - causing her to fall facefirst again onto the muddy ground. Silently cursing her bad luck, she pushed herself up from the ground again and got on her feet, after wiping her now twice muddied face with her sleeve. Gumue then began smiling bitterly to herself as she looked about for any signs of people. If she were a full fledged featherstrummer she would probably be zipping across the barks with the wind. Yet now, she had to go through this dangerous journey in order to earn the right to be given the feather of a Steel Condor. After all, it was only with that feather could she make full use of her talents. As these thoughts flashed through her mind, her eyes rested upon the body of the turbaned boy whom had threatened her with his menacing sickle during that skirmish with the bandits. What was immediately apparent was the large piece of bloodied mud around...

A common malaise that seasonally afflicts the peoples of Ulrunir. Known for its remarkable symptom of a prickly, fiery sensation along one's throat as though one swallowed a bowl of ground peppercorns. According to folklore, the illness was considered a curse that belonged to the Deity of Thievery who stole the mystical Peppers of the Saltwaters from the Primordial Garden. As he greedily ate the peppercorns in hopes of gaining it's powers, he choked on it due to the curse, and coughed upon the mortal realm, spreading the curse as invisible grains of pepper that would travel by wind into the throats of men, wracking them with this malaise. Some remedies include drinking a potion of saltwater, which is said would make these grains become at ease and prevent them from clinging onto the throat.

Gumue felt a mist of warmth shower down upon her as she felt a numbing pain course from her head to the back of her neck. She could feel the cool mud around her body as she pulled herself to her knees as she took in the sight around here. Before her unfolded a scene of devastation: The wagon she had ridden was broken, one anteater was slain, and the other missing. A number of bodies of felled chameleons were also clearly visible - their leathery backs glistened in the misty evening-bright that shone upon the pathway.

Treadtrails are established travel routes well traversed across the centuries that connect settlements together in a mesh of paths. While this makes these trails considerable prey for brigands and other criminals, some polities such as Ninur-Sin set up outposts in more remote areas that guard them, and post bounties for such miscreants which encourage a culture of bounty hunting that has kept the enterprise of caravanning well.

 "Oy! What's going on!" the red cloaked bodyguard leapt from her seat moving her hand to the handle of her sabre which she wore at her flower patterned under her cloak. "Bandits! Bandits on chameleons!" The urgent and alarmed voice of a man came from the front of the caravan line. No sooner had Gumue heard those words, did a loud clang ring from the bodyguard, who had just barely drew her sabre in time to block a whip which lashed towards her from a wrinkled faced, white bearded bandit in a orange striped turban riding a giant brown chameleon. At the same time, Gumue heard the sound of feet landing on the wagon, as she turned to its source to see a young boy in a similarly patterned turban, brandishing a menacing black sickle. Panic immediately consumed Gumue as she felt her legs freeze in place  The whole reason why she had decided to join the caravan was exactly to avoid the situation that was currently unfolding before her. The young boy in the turban snarled...

A minor deity worshipped by various threadworkers throughout Ninur-Sin and Lal-Mit.  Typically depicted as a seated woman with knitting a piece of fabric, and idolized in the form of a thread spun fetish. While the Godsister Weaver is neither known for any miracles nor folk tales, it is said to protect workers of thread from pricking their fingers and small injuries, with some even claiming that the Godsister protects from the pranks made by impish spirits that would cause minor but annoying injuries.

Gumue hummed a slow melody that fell on the top of her mind as she accompanied it with harmonic strums of her lyre. Though the tempo of the tune was slow, Gumue occasionally plucked a few wrong notes, which was only barely obfuscated by her humming. But these mistakes seemed not to be noticed by the adorable Lady Kau, who looked at Gumue with a wide smile on her face. Gumue could not help but grimace internally.  Though she could remember the art of the lyre and considered herself decent at singing, she could tell she was not doing a particularly good job. If she were to make such a poor performance to her mentor, there would be little doubt she would be in for a barrage of creative insults. "You pluck strings like fat handed toad trying to massage a cricket..." the unimpressed voice of her mentor echoed in her mind as she played an uninspiring glissade of notes as the closing section of her improvised song. Lady Kau clapped her hands happily to which Gumue gave a bitter smil...

While Ninur-Sin is said to be united by the Covenant of Heroes, wars between Heroes and their subjects are an occasional affair. Still, to avoid being preyed on by the other polities of Ulrunir, special Envoys of peace are sometimes dispatched to negotiate peace between warring subjects or even heroes should the conflict begin to go out of hand. These envoys are specially elected saints who are bestowed special privileges to avoid being assassinated by malicious actors, but are ritually castrated as part of the Rite of Peace to prevent dynastic nepotism. While becoming an Envoy is considered an honor even higher than that of the Thrones of the Covenant, it is occasionally used by powerful clans to elect those deemed overly ambitious to cull their visions of grandeur.

Sickening brightness jumped around in Gumue's mind as she gazed wearily at the shadowy hallways before her. Echoes of unintelligible, muffled voices filled her mind every step she took forwards. She could feel a heavy sheet draped across her whole body as she walked, as though led by a rope - the cold stone-washed floor made echoes of numbing cold from her bare feet. Someone was calling out to her from above. Though the voice was muffled she could hear 2 syllables, repeating incessantly - her name was Gumue, surely those two syllables were referring to her...! She struggled to look, but the weight of the sheet was unbearably heavy such that she could not even raise her head fully. And soon even her vision faded to white as she felt her strength leave her. "Gumue, wake up...! Wake up or you'll miss it!" the voice of a young lady rang as Gumue felt her body being shaken by from her shoulder. "Fweeh...?" Gumue mumbled as she slowly opened her eyes and wiped the...

 The main staple of Ninur-Sin, which is eaten by most creatures in the Heroic Convenant. While there are imports of other kinds of grain, such as wheat from the North, Maize from the South, and Rice and Beans from the West and East, the most of the the population of Ninur-Sin feed on Barley. Barley Farms are owned by all manner of peoples across the Heroic Echelons, with even slaves being responsible for their own food by working together in communual farms bestowed by the Covenant. The stealing or deliberate desecration of barley within the territories of the Covenant is considered a heavy sin, and even the those of high social status are not exempt from punishment should they plunder the communual farms. However, an exception is made for the plundering of the barley farms of barbarians, invaders or enemies of the Covenant. The fermentation of alcohol from Barley is also strictly regulated, and only Priestesses of the Goddess of Fecundity, Agarin, are given previlege to bestow ble...

 A big frown could be seen from the Jumian's face as he walked through the sandstorm that covered the streets of the Tildu Stoma. The means of arriving at the Grand Blade disclosed by the apparition was utterly absurd. "One has to be capable of either travelling through the Anthre and matching the Grand Blade's speed and find the right opportunity to leap upon its surface and stay upon it, while it arcs and flies through the Anthre erratically," the diminuitive apparition had said. "Based on my knowledge only 2 in history can fathom such an ability - the first is the ancient Archmagister Khulaepranu - who herself is somewhere high in the Anthre, and the second is the legendary adventurer Kildervax the Threadwinged who passed his secrets of travelling through the Anthre to the Sumdun Featherstrummers that he descended from..." "During your travels, I would advise naught to reveal your intention to step upon the Grand Blade - many experts covet the grace ...

A purported relic of the Age of Gods, said to have fallen from the sky during the mythical war between the primordial Mother of Sands, and her children. It is 5-leagues wide, made of cloudy white orthoclase, a soars 8 leagues, travelling 20 leagues down a hill. The Old City Muridzu, is built around the canal. Located within the Heroic Covenant, it is the home of the ancient cult of the Deity of Craft, Rig-Dimmir whose holy servants whom he fashioned from clouds built canals in the sky to bring water to the land.  But in a tantrum, the young Deity of Floods Mish-Sugas, dashed his canals, causing one to fall onto the the Aagsid region of Ninur-Sin, which became one of the cradles of civilisation. While Rig-Dimmir power has passed to other Deities , since the Second War of the Gods, and virtually nobody worships the Old God Rig-Dimmir, those whose Deities claim descent from Rig-Dimmir conduct pilgrimage to Muru-Id, alongside the many craftsmen hoping to gain divine inspiration from th...

Without a second thought, the Jumian placed the stick of blue cinnamon in a tiny spice box that he carried on his person. Though he could roughly tell the moment he smelled the stick in which direction he was to go after he completed his task, he decided it was not important at present. For now all he could do was to wait. Surely, when given such a task one would forge ahead to gather information, perhaphs listen to a few rumors. But the Jumian was not one for words. In 20 calls of the cicada, his wait soon ended. Placed before him brusquely by a coruplent waitress was a spherical pot much like that which was knitted to the banner outside. After waiting for the waitress to disappear behind the curtains to the kitchen, the Jumian struck the pot with his finger, causing it to crack into a perfect halves, releasing a sweet aroma before him alongside the view of a translucent sphere, held up by 3 hexagonal pieces of pastry - what the people here called the Sugarmist Bulb. As he took in the...

The Greater Mongoose Shepherds are considered the most wanted and craftiest bandits of the Untamed Sands south of Gimil-sir. Known for their very precise ability to whisper to the Giant Mongooses, they lead flocks of giant mongooses to stampede travellers, clothing them in tabards of hooks that catch various wares. After which they have them disperse and rejoin at various remote locations such as caves along the edge of ravines.

"Truly, gloomy as your kin! Frown not, for I shall be quick, I seek your services as a Sellsword... I nee-" "I refuse." "I would advise against haste! The reward is something one of your kin seeks...! "And only one of you will be able to obtain it...!" Silence fell again in the eatery. Though the Jumian showed no sign of faltering, the Unuthulian could tell. From the very minute tensing of muscle, no doubt the Jumian was listening carefully now. "I think I don't need to mention what it is! And I treasure my life enough to not mention it a second time after I nearly lost mine from your fellow Jumian!" "It's not on you. Tell me what you need done." "Good! Good! I'm starting to think I've made the right bet. Now let me explain, I require you to retrieve for me the a moulted skin of any aphid or slug that lives upon the Grand Blade of Thammu." Silence. "Ookay... that was not the reaction I expected. But I...

One of the characteristic holdings in the Heroic Covenant of Ninur-Sin, formed from thrall-owning families of exceptional bronze casters who form the foundation of the Covenant of Heroes' collective material & martial might. These Cast-steads are responsible for casting the many copper tools that all of Ninur-Sin uses, with each differentiatijg themselves by specializing in various parts of the process from the extraction of ore, to the finishing of copper items. Two Cast-steads are known for their exceptional craft - Bir-Gisas, for its control of over a thousand mines, and Aga-Subzu, for its peerless quality of sickles.

Upon the Fruthmel Sprig, lay the Tildu Stoma, sister of the famed Sanlef Stoma - caked in its red sands which scatter to the Anthre by the humid breaths of the Sprig. One establishment of sculpted red sandstone which stood in the way of the buffetting red sand was named the Wellmist Eatery - its banner, bearing the sewn image of a jar emitting a white cloud, billowing in the wind. Seated on two seating pillows were 2 men.  One was Unuthulian, with his scale-plated hair hiding his eyes, baring his lanky, swarthy physique as he drank chilled tea from his tiny ceramic cup. The other was a bulky Jumian, his hair worn in typical Jumian fashion of a wave-patterned buzzcut, with an olive, stern countenance, arms folded. Nothing sat before his side of his table unlike his peer - and it appeared as though he were waiting for his meal to be delivered to him. The eatery sat in silence save the singing of the Sprig's breath, and the occasionally sounds of cooking in the nearby kitchen separate...

The first of the Grand Stair-cities of the Ninur-Sit, the Covenant of Heroes. Ruled by the Ancient See, a title given to a hero elected by the Heroic Covenant to administer the most ancient regions of Ninur-Sit. While many of the new peoples of Ninur-sit have moved to the more properous sections of Musulsudu - Joined Cities of the Mace-holding Serpent, the Gimil-sir remains the font of culture due to its abundance ancient architecture that traces all the way to before the formation of the Nine Polities.  Gimil-sir is split into 3 strata, the lowest being the Ancient City, made of unfired clay, sat in large depression, where one can still see some structures built at during the Age of Deities, flooded in the waters of the Ancient Deluge, occupied only by loreseekers, mystics, healers and the terminally ill. The middle stratum, lies on fertile swampland, is the Thresher's City, where all manner of grain from all homesteads of the lands of Ninur-Sit are gathered and threshed through t...