Clueless Delver

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...