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memento-morianon · 3 days ago

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it's tough to make short summaries about the cultures of all my people groups, but here's a look at the most significant details about my more central groups.

Orcs: their culture grew out of a hunting lifestyle, as their ancestors were the natural predator of centaurs. They once had a culture as nomads, following the centaur migration paths, and a lot of their spiritual beliefs on the cycle of life and death were centered on their relationship to the centaurs. But the centaurs became sapient right alongside their predators, and there was a whole conflict about it. a very violent conflict. the gnomes are the descendants of the orcs who left the conflict early and hid in the mountains.

nowadays, orcs live in more settled groups, no longer being nomads by default, and they have let go of many ancestral beliefs and cultural traditions. instead, they focus on the guiding wisdom of ancestral spirits and they have begun to domesticate other large herbivores that are not sapient, such as elk and bison. they're still hunters as well, and they still value warriors. their social hierarchy tends to be very familial, with clans of several families gathering to live together and organizing themselves with councils of leaders and spiritual elders.

Gnomes: as stated, they are the small cousins of orcs who fled to the mountains rather than participating in the conflict with the centaurs. The suddenly more harsh environment and lack of nutrition as they adapted to the new location caused them to shrink over a few generations. they still have the genetics to be very large and grow tusks, like the orcs, so there are many recorded instances of gnomes with certain hormonal conditions growing taller and having tusks. gnomes abandoned the majority of their ancestral culture. they are nomads now, in a different way from their ancestors. they stay in the mountains over the summer and spend their winters in caverns at much lower altitudes, usually following a westward path to match the sun. in the main setting, their winter caverns are on the coast. gnomes still honor their ancestral spirits, but they believe in a pair of deities; the mountain mother and the sun father, who adopted their people after they escaped to the mountains. historically, this religion has been rather anti-orc, portraying the gnomes as a better people blessed for their wisdom in fleeing the battles. but more modern worshipers view their ancestors as refugees who were taken in by caring gods, fleeing out of reasonable fear to find safety. still, some anti-orc sentiments cling to their social expectations, such as a belief that gnomes with tusks are more masculine and strong, but also more brutish.

actually that is a lot of text already lol how about i leave it there and tackle the rest another time.

Hey Memento Mori I would like to ask you did I can know more about culture and history of each sapient species? And how long each them live , when they hit their equivment of 18,30,35,40,50,60,70,80,90 and 100? Sorry If I made you angry fir so many questions or anwers are arleady here.

I'm never upset about questions! This project is a passion of mine and I could info dump about it all day lol.

Gimme a bit to prep all the info and I'll reblog this with more stuff later, but for a quick answer on ages at least, here are the main people species from shortest lifespan to longest lifespan:

- pixies, which are giant sapient insects in the same family as bees/wasps/ants, individually live around 10-15 years on average. Queen pixies live longer, with an average age of 25 years, and male pixies have the shortest lives at about 6 months from the time they complete pupation into an adult form. Males only biological purpose is to mate and then die, as is common in many eusocial insect species. But their short lives are not used to dismiss or abuse them, as they are considered highly important and given a great deal of honor and ceremony. Pixie hives claim a much longer lifespan as a collective whole, because they are mysteriously able to share memory with each other and this hive memory is passed along through every generation.

- goblins, which are a type of amphibian, on average used to live only 50 years, but since the time of the goblin revolution, they have begun to live longer, reaching 80 and even 90 years at the oldest. This shift in life expectation is attributed to the increase of mutual care between people species, which accelerated the advancement of medical science. It may also be attributed to those goblins that skip winter hibernation by staying in the warm homes of their mammalian friends during the cold months.

- quetzalin, the bird folk, live around 100 years at best, though most die in their 80s or 90s. They are far more physically active and have a high metabolism compared to many other people species, which contributes to their relatively shorter lifespan.

- coastal merfolk, centaurs, gnomes, and orcs all tend to live between 100-150 years of age. The orc who dies at the beginning of my story, He-esh, lived to 150 (subject to change based on other timeline details, but 150 was my original plan). All of them are mammalian species with hardy bodies built to withstand difficult environments and changing seasons. The coastal merfolk are pinnipeds (related to seals and walruses and sea lions) while the centaurs are descended from chalicotheres and the orcs and gnomes are of the same family as pigs.

- dwarves on average live between 200-250 years of age. They are actually the last remaining hominid species, more closely related to Neanderthals than homo sapiens, and they are also built quite sturdy with a more durable metabolism than the modern human.

- elves, stroi, and drow, the primate sylvanid family, all tend to live up to 500 years at best, with the elves often outlasting their cousin species. However, more recent studies have found that the sylvanid lifespan is slowly decreasing. This may be attributed to higher activity in the younger generations which has altered their metabolism, and this change of activity was mostly brought about by an increase of interspecies interaction, as younger sylvanids are spending more and more time in diverse communities. It is now speculated that the most recent generations may only live to 300 years on average.

- one exception to the longer lives of sylvanids are the drow matriarchs, who give birth to every child of their colony. They are a eusocial mammal species, with the majority being infertile and males being less common. Matriarchs tend to have a shorter life expectation due to the physical exertion of giving birth so many times. They're not built for it quite as well as pixie queens are, and frankly the pixie queens only need to lay a lot of tiny eggs, while drow matriarchs give live birth, the majority of which are twins. On average, drow matriarchs undergo their unique secondary puberty at 50 years of age and typically give birth once a year for 100 years, at which point they undergo menopause and face a swift health decline, living to the age of 200-250 at best.

- the ogres, a mountain dwelling species of sapient giant sloths, have the longest lifespan of any people species, living around 800 years on average. This extremely long life expectancy is attributed to their much slower metabolism and relaxed lifestyle. However, many people forget that ogres have such long lives because they are often viewed by others as less intelligent due to their seemingly limited vocabulary and their lack of collective settlements or even large nomadic camps. They tend to live in very small isolated groups that only travel a little to gather with other ogres for holidays or to trade with other people. They interact the most with dwarves, who live in their territory. Ogres will frequently leave their more vulnerable young ones in dwarf caverns for safety.

#mm world details

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memento-morianon · 3 days ago

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another scene

K'arik saw something odd about Mori after the ritual of awakening. He told Evarin to find time to discuss it. So here's their secret conversation.

masterpost of excerpts over here.

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"I promised K'arik we'd meditate together today," Evarin explained as she threw a hooded cedar cloak over her shoulders, "I'll be home in a few hours, at most."

"You don't want me to join?" Morianon half-squinted, looking at her skeptically. She shrugged.

"Well, I know you don't really enjoy it the way we do," she replied hastily, "I ask you to join us because it's meant to help you, but-" she gave him an innocent, apologetic look and he dropped his gaze.

"No, it's fine. You mean well. I don't think I can meditate in the rain anyway, even if it's only a drizzle." He peered past her to the grey outdoors, frowning. "Have fun. I supppose. I might join Raisha and Kaen later, when they go to the market." He stepped back and nodded, reaching down to pat Sitla's head. Evarin pressed her snout against his cheek to give him a kiss and then walked out into the rain. It pattered down through the trees, muddying the roads wherever the gravel and woodchips were thin and sparse. Rather than suffering the whole walk out to the lake, Evarin made her way to the cart stop and paid for a ride, ducking into a covered seat.

Her mind wandered as the cart made its bumpy way down the road, pondering over Morianon's anxious behavior and K'arik's worried eyes. It was common enough for her husband to struggle through the early days of spring, shivering at the sound of heavy rain and rushing wind, scratching at the itch of his newly grown feathers, suppressing the hormonal urges that flooded his body. When he decided to let go, to hand off control to her and let himself relax, he would be fine and they'd spend the rest of spring and all of summer reveling in each other's presence; pleasure and laughter overtaking all their worries. Unless he was suffering from something more than his usual stresses, more than he was willing to admit. Evarin chewed the inside of her cheek and sighed.

She didn't mind so much that he had secrets. That was his own business. But she couldn't silence the nagging thoughts in her mind, the urge to pry and fix every little problem he faced. She couldn't remove his lingering trauma any more than he could remove the discomfort she felt whenever her stubble or tusks grew too long.

The cart rolled to a stop and Evarin got out, thanking the driver. They nodded and left the way they had come, heading back to town. It didn't take long for Evarin to spot K'arik standing on one of the docks that stretched out over the water. He wore a cloak around his shoulders, but the hood was down and his face was lifted to the pale grey sky. Little droplets of rain fell from the curved spiked of his antler crown, glittering like clear jewels. Evarin walked out to meet him and he turned to look at her when she had only taken a few steps onto the dock. His swift reaction caught her off guard and she hesitated a moment. He gave her an apologetic look.

"I find my senses are too sharp, these days," he signed, "your soul is so familiar to me, I felt your presence as soon as you arrived."

"Does it get overwhelming?" she asked, tilting her ears and gesturing with gentle hands. K'arik shrugged.

"I'm getting used to it." He nodded towards a sheltered firepit a little distance away and she followed him to it, sitting with him on the smooth stones around the pit. Though there was no fire, only a pile of cold ashes, the little shelter staved off the chill of the rain and wind. K'arik sighed and his face became serious. He signed with stiff, hesitant hands.

"Something is wrong with Mori's soul."

Evarin frowned and gave him a pointed look, folding her ears back. She held up her hands to reply, but he waved them down and continued.

"I know. It's always been strange, we've both felt it. But now I'm telling you it's more than strange. More than the trauma and his other selves."

"What more could there be?" Evarin signed quickly, shaking her head. K'arik lifted his snout and twisted it slightly, brow furrowed as he thought of an answer. His hands moved in wordless gestures, making vague rounded shapes.

"I only saw it for a short time," he replied slowly, "the sight faded by morning, and now I only sense living souls as an invisible warmth. But when I did see him- the first living soul I laid eyes on- it caught me by surprise. No one else there had a soul like his."

"I don't doubt it." Evarin kept her expression skeptical and K'arik snorted in frustration.

"Have patience, it's hard to describe such things. Few mortal eyes are able to view living souls, fewer yet have managed to depict them as anything more than a strange light around the head. And that is what I saw in every other soul present that night. More than just light, though, they're…" he paused again, tilting his head and making those wordless shapes with his hands again. "More," he signed.

"And Mori was different enough to worry you? Are you sure it wasn't just the shock of seeing it for the first time?"

"No, there was something distinctly wrong with it," K'arik repeated, gesturing sharply. Evarin ducked her head apologetically. K'arik continued, his hands pausing frequently to grasp for words. "It was light, just as every other soul I saw. Oddly shaped, perhaps, but I expected it to be. But there was something else there." One hand drifted vaguely upward.

"I've felt that, when we meditate with him," Evarin signed back, "like smoke. I assumed it was part of the trauma, or something like that. His soul is damaged, it's why he can't do magic and meditation frustrates him." She paused and pondered for a moment. "Come to think of it, his older sibling Kouto also has a damaged soul. I've sung for lur before, and felt it. It's not quite the same as Mori's, but there is that feeling, like something is leaking from it."

"I thought the same, until I saw it," K'arik replied. He hummed deep in his throat and tapped his foot. "You have felt the shadows around him?"

"Yes." Evarin folded her ears back.

"They're not part of him." K'arik's eyes were sharp as steel. The air felt suddenly cold, making the hairs on Evarin's spine bristle. She bared her teeth.

"Why didn't you start with that?" she signed snappishly. K'arik bared his teeth in return and huffed.

"Because I'm still figuring this out myself!" he signed with blunt gestures. "I still don't know what exactly I saw. I just know it was wrong, somehow. Those shadows, the feeling that some piece of his soul is always drifting away. It's more, and it's wrong, and I don't know how else to describe it." His shoulders were tense and his ears were flat against the sides of his head. He sighed and slumped forward, bracing his arms against his knees. There was a cold pit in Evarin's gut as she thought about the last time she had meditated alongside Morianon.

"I didn't mean to get angry," she signed softly. "We both care for him. We're both worried for him."

"And neither of us can do anything about whatever this is," K'arik agreed, gesturing vaguely. "It was like…" he mulled it over, staring at the ashes between them. "It was like the arc. I don't think the drifting you feel in his soul is entirely part of him. I think it has to do with the shadows. Something, whatever it may be, is tethered to his soul, and I couldn't see where it ended."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Evarin signed. "At least I don't think I have. Were soul tethers ever mentioned in professor [whats-their-name]'s class? Is that something that can be done?"

"Not that I'm aware of." K'arik shook his head. "But it's so difficult to study souls; almost impossible. If there are any records of someone undergoing a ritual to view living souls and describing all the notable traits they saw in a variety of individuals, I don't know if they'd contain anything similar to what I saw on Mori's soul." He itched the skin around his nasal piercing, which was still healing. Evarin glanced away, staring over the lake. The grey water rippled, peppered with raindrops and pushed around by soft winds.

"Sitla must be connected," she signed hesitantly. K'arik's ears perked.

"I was afraid to bring her into this," he admitted, "she makes me nervous, always has. It's not natural, whatever she is. But-"

"But she helps him." Evarin nodded. "No one wants to talk about it. I hate thinking about it."

"The tether on his soul wasn't tied to her, if that helps."

"Are you sure it was really wrong, whatever it was?" Evarin's eyes were pleading. K'arik grimaced.

"It felt horrible," he signed slowly, "when I saw it. I still can't describe what it looked like, but the feeling of it haunts me. Like seeing an elk stumble around with a dead rival still tangled in his antlers."

"Do you think Mori's in danger?" Evarin signed hastily. The cold pit in her stomach turned and turned, making her feel ill as she waited for K'arik's answer. He didn't meet her gaze, tapping his fingers against each other.

"I don't know," he finally replied. "If it's always been there, if this tether has been on his soul from the start, before we knew him, whenever Sitla first joined him, then perhaps it's no danger at all and I'm only afraid of what I don't understand."

"If it has been there all along," Evarin mused, "it must not be an immediate danger. But he does have a history, doesn't he?" She emphasized the word "history", grimacing at the word to draw attention to her true meaning. K'arik nodded, picking up the unspoken implication. They'd both grown up with him. She knew K'arik remembered those terrible fearful moments just as well as she did. Morianon, both wings broken, claiming he got distracted and fell to the ground by accident. Bandages around his left arm, on and off, again and again. Feathers stuck in his teeth, blood on his nails, bald patches torn into his wings and chest. It happened less and less, and Evarin couldn't think of a serious incident that had happened since their first year as a married couple, but now she wondered if there had been something else to it. Something other than the traumatic emotions that clung to his mind and made him desperate for release.

"How has he been, lately?" K'arik asked. "I haven't had a chance to meet with him since the ceremony. Will he be alright for the archaeology trip?"

"He's trying to avoid his feelings," Evarin signed and huffed in frustration. "You know how he is this time of year. He wants to hold himself together as long as possible, but he's struggling. Nothing serious, though. Just stubborn." She hummed and thought of his cold glare in Obeli Moruga's home. "Moruga knows something, I'm sure. Lor knows everything."

"That's true. And oddly comforting." K'arik snorted a laugh. "If Obeli Moruga is aware of it, lor knows more than you or I could ever figure out on our own. Lor may be a strange old creature, but if Mori was in real danger, lor would do something about it."

"Yes, you're right about that." Evarin felt her heart relax, like a slip knot pulled all the way through and undone. "Thank you for telling me about what you saw. I don't know what to do with it, but at least now I can be aware of it."

"I'll try to learn more, if I can," K'arik signed, worry still knitting his brow. Evarin nodded gratefully.

"I should get home. Mori thinks I only came out here to meditate with you."

"Maybe we should then, to calm our own souls."

[Evarin agrees and they meditate together for a few minutes, their souls brushing up against each other. Afterwards, they do both feel better and K'arik offers to accompany Evarin to the crossroads, where the road to the town and the road to the orc village split off from each other. They walk in silence and then say their farewells. Evarin returns home to find Morianon, Raisha, and Kaen arguing over what to make for dinner. She's glad to see Mori in good spirits, though she stares at Sitla with some suspicion. the dog looks back at her with those uncanny pale eyes, but the tension is rather ruined by her tongue sticking out funny. it's really quite hard to keep being worried about the total freak of nature when she looks like an empty headed pup.]

#writeblr #mm excerpts #mm 1 #original writing

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memento-morianon · 3 days ago

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more in between scenes

this time it's about Mori suffering from an extra strong hormone surge. this is usually the time of year when he becomes the most needy and horny, as the hormones that cause his special courting feathers to grow are really messing with his body.

masterpost of excerpts over here

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Evarin furrowed her brow, staring hard at the pattern instructions her father had given her while she hesitantly twisted her hook through each stitch. the yarn she'd picked for the blanket was balled up in a carved wooden bowl on the floor while she sat curled on the couch, Morianon beside her with a pile of old telegrams he was sorting through. On the other side of the circular couch, Raisha was reading a book while the radio nearby delivered its monotone news. That odd, buzzy voice produced by pixie technology demanded attention and focus; it was so easy to miss whole sentences otherwise. Evarin's ears kept turning to it, mixing its words with the pattern she was trying to read.

[might do this as dialogue later, but the news report is about the country east of the mountains. they had a harsh winter after a bad harvest, and the people are still recovering. protestors continue to pester the government, accusing them of neglecting their most diverse communities, that they left their citizens to suffer and starve as the harsh winter showed up too soon and ruined the harvest. But as the weather is turning and springtime brings warmth, it's hoped that people will settle down somewhat and surely the government won't make the same mistakes again. surely.]

Evarin grumbled at the news, but said nothing and tried to stay focused on her task. Her father had extended family there, some of whom had been seriously impacted by the harsh weather. Failed crops, starved livestock, and poor quality wool as a result of it all. She sighed and shook her head. Her eyes left the wonky square of stitches in her hands and turned to Morianon, watching his wings twitch. Most of his feathers had finished growing in, but the long gold feathers on his back and the two streamers on his tail were still coming in, stiff in their keratin sheaths, making him more fidgety than usual.

His pupils pinned, making his typically brown eyes flash gold as his irises flexed and caught the light. He kept baring his teeth at nothing, and the skin on the side of his nose puffed up periodically, flushing red. The telegram in his hand was sideways, crumpled in the tight grip of his hand. Sitla pawed at his feet, huffing and laying her ears back.

"Mori, I think you need a break," Evarin set her work down. Morianon closed his eyes tight and frowned.

"I'm fine. Perfectly in control."

"You're not. Come on." Evarin stood and crossed her arms. Morianon dropped the telegram he was holding, but stayed where he was, reaching over his shoulder and desperately trying to scratch his back. every stiff pin feather trembled, softly rattling against each other. Evarin tapped her foot.

"I'm fine," Morianon repeated, but his voice had lost its conviction. "I just want to hold on until after the dig." He sighed but it sounded halfway like a whine.

"Well you're not doing a very good job of it," Evarin retorted, "come on, up. Let's walk to the market and pay Obeli Moruga a visit." She held out a hand and Morianon took it begrudgingly, letting her pull him to his feet. Raisha gave them an absentminded wave as they left the room.

Sitla shadowed their steps, and they all headed outside together, breathing in the crisp fresh spring air and walking through the dappled sunlight that fell through the leafy canopy overhead. It had been raining nearly every day, keeping the forested town damp and green. Flowers were budding and blooming, offering their fragrance to the breeze and coloring the underbrush.

Morianon clung to Evarin's arm, squinting and blinking. She squeezed his hand in sympathy and felt the rush of his pulse against her wrist, frantic and hot. His tail kept twitching upward, keeping the long stiff new feathers away from the ground. Most of the people they passed by on their walk just nodded a quick greeting, but some who knew them paused long enough to deliver a pitying smile for Morianon's springtime plight.

Obeli Moruga lived in a house separate from the other goblins in their burrows by the lake. It was a mossy lump of a thing, like the earth had lifted up a corner of the ground to peer out through the colorful glass windows. Evarin led Morianon to the front step and lifted a hand to knock on the crooked old door, but she only managed one quick tap before it opened, revealing Obeli Moruga's pale face and toothy grin.

"Right on time," lor croaked, "just finished a batch of crispy minnows for you, come in." Lor stepped back and gestured for them to enter. Evarin's snout wrinkled at the smell of baked fish that met her like a wall of heavy fog. It wasn't that she hated fish, aside from the pickled sort, but the house smelled as if it had been filled to the brim with old lake mud and an unusual mixture of spices. Morianon perked up slightly, leaving Evarin's side to sit on one of the cushioned stools around the tree stump table, Sitla curling up at his feet. The whole house was only one large room with a privacy curtain in one corner, heated by a small fireplace and lit by an abundance of runelights in so many colors they canceled each other out and bathed everything in normal white light.

Evarin sat on another stool near Morianon, glancing around at the unsual color combinations of every cushion and rug and blanket in the sitting space. Her own father's work caught her eyes easily, and she snorted in amusement to see that awful ugly yarn again, covering a pillow on the corner of Moruga's armchair. The effect of random bright colors scattered through the horrid brown, all of it remarkably fuzzy, made the pillow look like dead moss with a variety of vivid molds and lichens consuming it.

"Here you are," Moruga shuffled over with a bowl of minnows coated in spiced batter and baked to a crisp. Lor set it on the table and sat in the armchair with a flourish, every layered shawl and skirt swaying and draping around lor thin and gnarled figure. Unlike most of the goblins in the area, Obeli Moruga's frilled gills had never come together as proper ears, and they were a stunning shade of pink, framing lor face like strange ferns. "You didn't really need to pay me a visit, you know," lor chastised Morianon as he scarfed down a handful of minnows. "There's a very simple solution to your troubles, and I'm sure your dear wife is more than happy to help you out." Lor throat puffed with a creaking laugh and Evarin blushed but stifled a chuckle behind her hand.

"He's trying to endure it until after the upcoming archaeology trip," she tutted, "you've heard all about it, of course; he's part of the team that's been invited to dig in the centaur territory up north." Evarin couldn't help the pride that colored her voice and lifted her chin. Morianon fluffed his feathers sheepishly.

"It's a very important job," he muttered, swallowing his mouthful of fish, "I have to maintain a professional attitude."

"You'd have an easier time of it if you just let go until you're through the worst of things," Evarin retorted, "you're being stubborn."

"I'm fine," Morianon huffed, crunching down another handful of minnows. Obeli Moruga grinned, sharp teeth glinting and sending a shiver down Evarin's spine.

"Sounds to me like you both need a good calming cup of tea*." Lor stood and shuffled to the kitchen space behind a low counter. The kettle must have been ready before they arrived, because it only took a couple moments for Moruga to return with three ceramic cups filled with a pungent and steaming herbal tea. "Just a touch of honey," lor mentioned, "the pixies always leave me with a good supply. It's plenty diluted, don't fuss over it." Lor waved a hand at Evarin before she had a chance to say anything. Evarin clamped her mouth shut and took a cup, swirling the liquid gently. Morianon was less hesitant, sipping his tea right away and only pausing to hiss at the temperature.

"Thanks," Evarin mumbled, blowing over the surface of her tea before she drank. It was strong; earthy and biting with a tart fruity overtone and a touch of honeyed sweetness. Even heavily diluted, the pixie honey's effect set in quickly. It was a common ingredient in certain medications; typically used to relieve pain and calm the nerves. In larger quantities, especially pure and raw, it could put an orc in a near-comatose state of mindless relaxation. Too much, and it could even slow the heart and lungs to a dangerously sparse rhythm. Evarin found her tense worries slipping away, her frustration fading as if it had never been there to begin with. She glanced over and saw Morianon's pupils returning to a normal size, his feathers settling and laying still.

"Better already, isn't it?" Moruga chuckled. "But I think you have other troubles you'd like to talk about, don't you?" Lor dark eyes narrowed at Morianon and he met the piercing gaze with a glare that chilled the air. Sitla huffed and bumped his leg with her nose. Evarin furrowed her brow and tilted her ears, fighting off the relaxing fog of the tea to wonder at her husband's reaction.

"Not right now," he muttered. His eyes drifted to Evarin and flicked towards the door. She replied with an indignant snort.

"Are you telling me to leave?" She looked between him and Obeli Moruga. The old goblin shrugged and sighed.

"He'll get over it eventually," lor said, waving a hand. "But you know I'm always willing to listen, Morianon. Don't keep your troubles to yourself so much. It's bad for the health."

"I'm fine." Morianon finished off his tea and shook out his feathers, running his fingers over the edge of the cup. Evarin couldn't quite bring her mind to a solid thought, but she frowned.

"It's all the rain, isn't it?" she finally concluded. "I know it's stresses you out when things get stormy."

"Yeah." Morianon set his cup down and picked at the bowl of minnows, avoiding eye contact. Evarin sighed.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of; you don't have to pretend you're fine all the time." She leaned back and fumbled for balance at the sharp reminder that she was sitting on a stool, not a backed chair. "Oh, glaciers, are you sure it was only a touch of honey?" Her head swam as she righted herself, her senses lagging slightly. "Maybe we should go home and take the day off."

"Home." Morianon's voice was little more than a whisper. He stood, shaking his head. "Thank you, Obeli Moruga. The tea does help."

"You're welcome here any time," the old goblin settled into lor armchair and waved them off with a gentle smile. They clung to each other's arms as they left, ducking through the doorway and making their way slowly homeward as the clouds rolled in overhead and threatened another downpour.

-good enough-

[some of this will make better sense in context if i add in other previous scenes of Mori interacting with Obeli Moruga in hushed voices or paying her visits while Evarin only thinks he's off to get more pickled fish, etc. I also definitely need to do more with his storm ptsd and give him more scenes where he's acting stressed out.]

#writeblr #mm excerpts #mm 1 #original writing

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memento-morianon · 4 days ago

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Happy Storyteller Saturday, what's the most recent thing you have written?

I just finished a "chapter" of disconnected scenes (my default when I'm not sure what to do between larger plot points or when I haven't quite figured out a time frame for plot points)

I'll be posting it soon! The first part is more of Morianon struggling with the seasonal hormone shift, trying to keep up his facade of self control as long as he can manage it.

And the second part is Evarin and K'arik meeting in private to talk about Morianon because they're worried about him.

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memento-morianon · 6 days ago

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I'm never upset about questions! This project is a passion of mine and I could info dump about it all day lol.

Gimme a bit to prep all the info and I'll reblog this with more stuff later, but for a quick answer on ages at least, here are the main people species from shortest lifespan to longest lifespan:

#mm world details

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memento-morianon · 8 days ago

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(images description: a messy digital drawing in vibrant colors, depicting a humanoid man with bird like features. his feathered wings are light blue on the inside and green on the back. he is posing dramatically while wearing a dark colored outfit that includes long gloves, a decorative waist cloth, and a mask in the shape of a bird's head, as well as many pieces of bright gold jewelry. he is holding a flower made of blue feathers and many small green and blue feathers are scattered around him. text on the image says "happy new year". end description.)

first art of 2025!

Morianon as the new year's banshee (elvish nickname for a species of bald raven). he gets to run around during the festival of the new year and pull silly pranks on people and toss little trinkets at them. of course, they celebrate new year's during the spring equinox in his world, but I can still post him for the real world new years lol

#mm illustrations #mm characters

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memento-morianon · 9 days ago

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(Image description: two digital paintings in similar vibrant colors, depicting a humanoid man with bird like wings and a feathered body. He is dancing with his wings flared, arms spread, and one leg up. He is wearing only a decorative waist cloth and various jewelry pieces. His feathers are light blue on the front side of his body and a darker green on the backside, with stripes in contrasting shades on both sides. He also has a fan of soft gold feathers on his back and two long streamer feathers coming out of his tail. The first image is more simplified and the colors more flat and bright, with the line style being more messy, while the second image has a more cohesive color palette and more detailed anatomy, while also using subtle messy lines to add a dynamic flair to the style of it. End description.)

January 2024 vs December 2024!

#mm characters #mm illustrations

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memento-morianon · 11 days ago

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Been thinking about Evarin's grandparents, since my brain latched onto some family backstory things (He-esh and all his drama, which did include Evarin's grandma At'ali being disowned for having a gnomish lover, who is yet unnamed)

I think I have accidentally established a family tradition of these ladies all falling for reckless fools.

At'ali meets her future husband when he's with his buddies, trying to hunt a thornbeast on a dare and failing badly.

Her daughter Tawei, Evarin's mom, meets her husband Izune because he kept coming to the university health clinic to be treated by students like her, always injured from picking a dumb fight he knew he'd lose, always making just the dumbest jokes about it.

After Evarin transitions, she wonders to herself if she will also end up falling in love with a reckless fool like that. But then she falls for Morianon, the shy and awkward feathered boy she grew up around. He handles his teenage mental health crisis by maturely ending their early dating relationship so he can stay her friend and not feel the pressure of trying to be romantic while he focuses on therapy and pursues his education. He goes through university and an apprenticeship to become an archaeologist and writes a thesis on an interesting niche topic in his field.

Evarin is pleased with herself for having broken the two generation cycle of being a woman in a medical profession marrying a man who gets hurt doing stupid things. After all, look how smart her man is!

But no, alas, he also has a history of getting hurt for stupid reasons (and some not so stupid reasons) and every spring and summer his brain gets a little scrambled from the courting season hormones, turning him into an impulsive and reckless fool with all the braincells of a puppy doing every trick it knows to get a treat.

Sorry Evarin, you're not breaking any generational cycles with this one lol

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memento-morianon · 17 days ago

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Literally my main characters lol

(Image description: sketchbook page depicting three characters standing close together and smiling. In the middle is an orcish man, and on either side of him is a gnomish woman and a bird dude. End description)

Polycule but it’s just two people in a romantic relationship with each other and their third who’s pretty obviously aroace but also somehow so deeply intertwined in their lives that it’d just be wrong to not count them as involved. Is this anything.

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memento-morianon · 25 days ago

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Happy STS from @trixierosewrites! If you had to pick a favourite line of dialogue from your WIP(s), what would it be?

oh very good question. hmmmmmm so far I think my best line of dialogue is actually a bit from my plans to write a little prologue novel about the old orc that dies at the start of my main story lol.

context over in this post. tldr He-esh had an older brother who was supposed to lead their clan. but he sucked, so He-esh and his wife Elkha made... Plans.

H: “I can see only one solution, though I hate it. He cannot be allowed to lead this clan. We would be at war in a decade.” He steels himself and continues. “Luck alone will not allow me to take his place. My strength against his in a public duel is not enough. There is only one way I can take his power cleanly.”

E: “if you are found out, it will be a greater dishonor than having your tusks broken in a duel!” she snaps, eyes fierce.

H: “I am willing to sacrifice my honor to protect our clan's future.” He is resolved in his decision, looking at his wife with cold, determined eyes. She holds her chin high.

E: “then lay my honor on the altar beside it. You will need a witness to bury your lie.”

"Lay my honor on the altar beside [yours]." is such a tasty little line, I gotta write the whole novel just so I can deliver it right lol. These two are so ride or die for each other. fun fact: they were married by arrangement, as were pretty much all of their family members, being that He-esh is part of the head family in this clan and Elkha was from another high ranking family. their own children and grandchildren also all have arranged marriages, with only the exception of K'arik, the deaf aroace orc who is in a queerplatonic relationship with my main protagonist couple Morianon and Evarin.

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memento-morianon · 26 days ago

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memento mori, blood, chapter 14

in which K'arik and his brother T'oren are formally granted the leadership role over their clan.

masterpost of excerpts over here.

Evarin felt Morianon leave her side, and the movement stirred her. Only the faintest pale light was coming in through K'arik's overhead window, showing Morianon's hunched figure in the corner. He was holding Sitla in his lap.

"Mori?" Evarin half lifted herself from the pile of warm furs. Morianon sighed.

"It's barely sunrise. Go back to sleep," he murmured, "I'm fine." He ruffled his feathers but remained where he was. Evarin squinted at him groggily.

"Alright." She yawed and rolled over, leaving an invitational space behind her as she snuggled closer to K'arik. What little time they had before the morning feast passed in silence, only marked by the growing light overhead. Evarin stirred again, lazily standing up and stretching her arms while K'arik wasted no time getting dressed in a simple morning robe. Morianon was still in the corner with Sitla, still and quiet as a guard and watchdog.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Did you sleep well? Was it a nightmare?" Evarin watched his face carefully, but he gave her nothing to read; just a gentle, distant sort of smile.

"Just restless. You know how I am, this time of year." He passed her the bag of clothes they'd brought. "Once I've got a little food in my belly, I'll settle." He scooted Sitla off his lap and took his own outfit from the bag, shaking away the folds before he put it on. Evarin did the same with her clothes. It was not the fanciest outfit she owned, but it was fine enough for K'arik's grand ceremony. Layered skirts and a wrapped top that hung down past her waist, all held in place with a braided belt. Her father had made the fabric of the top; pale green with leaf patterns worked through it. He had also made the fabric of Morianon's tunic; blues and soft purples woven with a fish scale pattern that complimented his blue and green feathers beautifully.

K'arik tapped his fingers on the edge of his wardrobe to catch his companions' attention.

"My mother said she would make a small breakfast before the feast," he signed, "you're welcome to it."

"Thank you," Evarin signed back. K'arik nodded and left the room, leaving the hide curtain swinging gently behind him.

Hurriedly, Morianon and Evarin finished dressing. Morianon brought out his paints and touched up the details around Evarin's eyes and nose, allowing her to do the same for him. She took the braid she had been wearing all night and rolled it up, pinning it in place and attaching the little hairpiece made of Morianon's feathers.

Once they were dressed, Morianon and Evarin entered the main room, with Sitla quietly at their heels. Already, K'arik's family was gathering around the hearth, adjusting their clothes and fixing their hair. The comforting smell of warmed biscuits wafted in the air, mingling with the smoky scent of the hearth fire. Evarin climbed onto the bench beside K'arik and grabbed herself a biscuit. Much to her delight, Th'elir had even left out a jar of jam and a plate of soft cheese to spread on the biscuits. It was a gnomish sort of breakfast, common on the nomadic trails, but its simplicity had made it popular with many other peoples. The sweet tang of the jam mingled well with the rich earthy flavor of the cheese; perfect in every way.

"Evarin," Th'elir spoke aloud to catch her attention and then switched to sign language for convenience. "Would you help me with K'arik's hair?"

"Of course." Evarin finished off her biscuit, wiping her hands on a cloth napkin. K'arik had kept most of his hair in the braids from the ritual, only removing a few ties and his grandfather's tusks so he could sleep comfortably. He held very still as Evarin and his mother unwound some of the braiding and redid it, opting for a more elegant and complex style to suit the grand ceremony. Evarin tackled the smaller braids, turning the long locks of hair just in front of K'arik's ears into twisted strands of two braids each and tying them back into the thick central braid Th'elir had woven from five sections of hair. Strings of polished beads were also twisted through it. Near the hearth, K'arik's brother T'oren was having his hair similarly braided by his wife.

Th'elir gave Evarin a grateful nod and then hurried off to retrieve the more important and elaborate accessories for her sons to wear during the ceremony. K'arik stood to return to his room to put on a proper outfit, but before he walked away he paused and watched Morianon for a moment as he preened his feathers by the fire. K'arik turned to Evarin and signed with small gestures, only for her eyes.

"Did he tell you anything after the ritual?" he asked. Evarin blinked, surprised by the secretive look on his face. She shook her head.

"He only told me you had seen something near him. Something like an unfriendly spirit, maybe." She tilted her head questioningly. K'arik hummed; a deep uncertain sound in his throat.

"I did see something unusual." His hands were hesitant. "Come talk to me alone later, when you have a chance."

"Alright." Evarin felt her heart clench as K'arik walked away. She shivered slightly, despite the fire-warmed air of the longhouse, and turned her attention to Morianon. He pinched apart a few keratin flakes between his fingers, entirely focused on his wings. Sitla lay in the shadow of his seat by the hearth, white eyes half closed, tall ears lazily turning towards every noise.

Evarin tapped her toes on the bench and then hopped down and joined her husband at the fire. He scooted over a little and tucked his wing out of her way. Silently, Evarin ran her hand through the feathers and began to pick at the keratin, helping him preen. As he relaxed into her touch, she pushed her worries to the back of her mind. It was a day for celebration, not to be marred by vague and rootless fears.

Shortly, K'arik and T'oren had both come out in their ceremonial clothes, and were both immediately surrounded by fussing hands as Th'elir, T'oren's wife, and Senik all came over to adjust evry layer and adorn them both with jewelry and other decorative pieces. Polished beads of wood, bone, and metal, braided leather belts and precious gemstone tusk rings; the latter were a gift from the dwarves. Evarin and Morianon paused their work with the pin feathers and joined K'arik's family in praise and adoration of the brothers' fine clothes. It was rare to see K'arik so regally dressed, every layer of his ceremonial robes colored in shades of red and pale grey; spiritual colors; embroidered with traditional patterns that mimicked natural imagery. Branches and antlers, hoof prints, winding rivers. He wore Morianon's feathers on his left shoulder, though they were an odd contrast against the red in hos robes. T'oren was equally handsome in shades of warm brown and rich black, embroidered with gold; colors suited to a warrior. He held his head high, but his eyes were soft and he smiled at K'arik, patting his younger brother on the back.

"Are we ready?" he signed. K'arik nodded confidently. T'oren took his wife by the arm and walked with her to the door, and K'arik went after him, gesturing for Morianon and Evarin to join him. They each took one of his hands, walking slighty behind him. Morianon directed Sitla to find a quiet corner and she was soon out of sight. Th'elir and her husband went out ahead of their sons, drawing the attetion of a gathered crowd and clearing the way.

Everyone in the clan, and many people from town, were gathered to watch the ceremony. Excited murmurs filled the air as the two brothers walked forward down the path the crowd had made for them. Evarin tightened her grip on K'arik's hand and pulled herself to as straight a posture as she could manage. All eyes were on K'arik and T'oren, every hushed voice spoke their names. Ahead of them, the bonfire crackled, its brightness silhouetting the elders waiting in front of it, as well as Th'elir and her husband. The elders of the third and fourth houses held He-esh and Elkha's skulls, adorned with strings of beads and feathers as a symbol of their status and their spiritual presence.

Evarin, Morianon, and T'oren's wife all stepped aside and took their place at the head of the crowd while K'arik and T'oren knelt side by side in front of the elders and their parents. The crowd fell silent when the elder of the first house held up a hand. He signed, while the elder of the second house interpreted aloud for the sake of the large gathering.

"T'oren, K'arik; welcome and congratulations. You have both proven yourselves for many years, and now it is our honor to name you heads of [family name?], first house of our clan." He smiled down at them. "T'oren [name title, maybe to do with fire], you have proven yourself to possess a true warrior's spirit. We have witnessed your strength, bravery, and quick thinking many times. Who among us could forget how your leadership prevented injury and even death when a fire threatened our homes only a few summers ago?"

T'oren inclined his head humbly. Evarin recalled that summer; there had been a drought. The town had been threatened as well. T'oren was one of many local leaders who had taken action to beat back the flames, organizing teams to dig new trenches around the town and village and cut down old branches and trees that might have carried the fire right into their homes.

"K'arik Aresh Takran," the elder continued, "your wisdom has been the end of many disputes, and your kindness is as finely honed as any blade. Last night, you performed the ritual to fully awaken your spiritual senses, and we elders bore witness to it. There are few even among your ancestors who could endure it so well."

K'arik's cheeks and ears turned slightly pink at the praise, but he retained his dignified posture. Morianon squeezed Evarin's hand, and they shared a glance of pride for their dear friend.

"May your strength of spirit, your wisdom, and your love for your people guide your actions and allow you to work together as you lead this clan. It is not customary for two brothers to take such equal roles, but we trust you will handle it as well as you have handled every obstacle you have faced in your lives thus far." The elder of the first house took a step back, bowing slightly and gesturing Th'elir forward. She gazed down with a mother's pride at her two sons. Her husband took the role of vocal interpretation this time as she signed to K'arik and T'oren.

"As the matriarch of this clan, I hope you will forgive me, for not retiring a decade sooner. You are more than ready to take my place, ready to lead as I have, and as my father did, and all our ancestors to the founding of this clan. You are the fifth generation of our house, and far from the last. May all our ancestors bear witness and give their approval as you bring our people ever farther into the future." She nodded to the elder of the fifth house, who carried up a box lined with soft fur. From it, Th'elir took two beautifully made crowns, crafted from carved elk antlers embeded with jewels from their dwarven allies. The small spikes from the very tip of a set of antlers adorned each piece, curling inward to form partial circles. Th'elir arranged them on her sons' heads, tucking the bands into their hair and tying them in place.

She then took two other accessories from the box; one was the set of curled tusks K'arik had already been wearing after He-esh's death. The other was another set of much shorter tusks in a straighter, more knife-like shape. Each pair was bound in leather at the base with bone and wood beads between and a long leather strap on either side. Th'elir tied them around her sons' necks.

"Both of these pairs of tusks come from your grandfather," she explained, "the curled tusks he bore until his death, and the broken tusks he cut off himself, in front of the whole clan, after the death of as'els own elder brother, Rokar." Her hands faltered slightly but she took a breath and carried on. "T'oren, the broken tusks you wear now were promised to you on the day K'arik was born and you became an older brother." She blinked quickly, but Evarin saw the tear rolling down her cheek and the loving nostalgia brightening her eyes. T'oren's ears perked and he absently broke his stoic position to run a finger over the tusks at his neck. Th'elir continued.

"They are engraved with the old saying; 'one death, many lives'. My father also had a small plaque engraved, to be gifted to both of you when you were ready to take your place among the leadership of this clan." She brought out a square of white stone framed by an intricately carved piece of red wood, handing it to the elder of the first house for display. "This is your grandfather's message to you both; wisdom and hope to guide you in your roles." She turned her head to read the words as she signed them. "'To be a leader is to make difficult choices; to weigh your own heart and will against the needs of the people and make the right choice. I pray that my own actions have given you an easier path forward; that you may never have to make the same choices I did; that you will walk forward hand in hand and lead this people forward on your own path.'"

Th'elir's eyes were wet, and her sons' cheeks also glistened with tears. Evarin wiped a few from her own face, glancing around to confirm that she was not alone in her reaction. The crowd had remained mostly silent, only soft murmurs of praise here and there, joined now by lightly repressed sobs from the more emotional folks among them. The loss of He-esh was still tender in every heart. The elder of the first house gave Th'elir the plaque and proceeded to the final part of the ceremony.

"Now, adorned with the symbols of leadership, and with your ancetsor's wisdom in your minds, are you prepared to fully accept your roles, with all the responsibilities and sacrifices that wll be requird of you?"

"I am ready," T'oren replied.

"I am ready," K'arik signed. The elder nodded and brought forward another pair of orcs who were not official leaders but expert piercers. One of them handed the brothers wrapped pieces of leather to bite down on, which they quickly placed in their mouths. Silently, they gripped each other's hand and waited. Morianon shifted his feet and stepped behind Evarin slightly, turning his head against her shoulder. She wrapped her arm beneath his wings and held him close.

The piercers brought out their tools and the simple metal pieces that would serve as temporary piercings until the initial wounds had healed enough to remove them. Bone was the traditional material of choice, but with the dwarven alliance He-esh had secured, metal of various sorts had become easily obtained through trade, so now the piercers held hollow needles made of steel. They stood in front of K'arik and T'oren and carefully aligned the needles; one at T'oren's nostrils, the other at the bridge of K'arik's snout. Swiftly, the needles went through flesh as easily as if it were heavy cloth, making the brothers grunt in pain. They managed to hold still, clutching their hands so tightly it turned their skin white.

The piercing at the nostrils was one of their oldest traditions, marking every clan leader. Th'elir had a ring through her own nose. the piercing at the bridge of the snout was only for those who had proven their spiritual strength as K'arik had, and he had opted to only get the one piercing for now, leaving his nostril piercing for a later time. Evarin sympathized with the pained scrunching on his face once the piercers finished their work and stepped back. The little nodes of steel that emerged from his skin gleamed in the firelight, resembling tiny tusks. T'oren had a partial ring through his nose, curling around just enough to keep it in place. Both of them stealthily removed the leather wads from their mouths and tucked them away somewhere in their robes.

"T'oren [name title], K'arik Aresh Takran," the elder of the first house gestured for them to stand, "rise now and face your clan as the new heads of house [title]." The brothers stood together, turning and clasping hands again as they looked out over the crowd. At last, the people freely gave voice to their praise and excitement, cheering and waving their hands. T'oren looked to K'arik and bumped his shoulder slightly. K'arik returned the glance and nodded eagerly. He brought up his hands to quiet the gathered people and sign to them as his brother provided the interpretation.

[heckin uhhh some really great speech about how they are honored to lead this clan, promises about carrying forward their ancestral traditions and honoring the past while also walking forward into their own future. etc. T'oren does not add his own words to this speech, it's clear that he and K'arik worked together on this ahead of time. once they've given their remarks, the crown cheers again and it's time for the feast!]

As soon as they were free, the crowd surged forward, grerting the brothers with compliments and well wishes. T'oren's wife walked at his side and Evarin and Morianon joined K'arik. Even being with the newly appointed leaders, getting through the masses to reach the feast tables was difficult and slow, but step by step they arrived, stomachs growling at the rich smells of roast meat and fresh bread. Evarin quickly lost track of the time, piling up a plate and enjoying her meal while she chatted with various guests. By the time the sun rose to the peak of the sky, the party was beginning to slow down but looked as if it might continue into the evening and perhaps even late into the night.

"We can't stay all day," Morianon said to Evarin, leaning over her shoulder. Sitla had left whatever little corner she'd been hiding in and now trailed Morianon's steps, staring intently at his plate. "I'm happy to be here with K'arik, truly, but being around such a large crowd so long…" he waved a hand vaguely at the people around him.

"I know. Here, let's go find K'arik and tell him goodbye then, and we can retrieve our things and head home, alright?" [and so they do that and they go home. K'arik is very grateful that they joined him, he hugs them both at the same time because they're half his size. end of chapter.

#writeblr #mm excerpts #mm 1 #original writing

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memento-morianon · 27 days ago

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Random fun new detail. Orcs do that side-kiss thing like French and Latino/Hispanic cultures do, where you lean past each other's faces and kiss the air.

For orcs, it is mostly a diplomatic display of vulnerability and trust, as it brings their tusks right by each other's throats. It can also be a friendly or even romantic greeting, depending on the attitude of the participants. It can also be an instant turn on for many orcs, just the lingering brush of a sharp tusk near their lover's throat.

Gnomes also do this side kiss thing, since it's part of their ancestry, but they no longer have tusks for the most part, rendering the action far more casual without the implied restraint of a deadly threat.

#mm world details

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memento-morianon · 30 days ago

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both from my recent chapter 13 draft.

up:

The forest opened up around the lake. Its dark water reflected the moons and the narrow path of the arc far above, almost creating a loop between the earth and sky if not for the silhouette of the trees around the shore. Evarin habitually ran a finger over the pendant hanging from her neck, pondering the arc and the watchful moons. Somewhere in the stars, her ancestors rested, gnome and orc alike. It was fortuitous that the sky was so clear of clouds, offering K'arik a pristine view of the arc that acted as a road between mortality and the realm of spirits.

down:

His pain surged down the line as he drove the bone knife through his skin, and then he dropped beneath the water, leaving a void where the first elder's hand was still outstretched in the open air. Evarin's voice wavered but she kept singing, clutching the fifth elder's hand a little tighter. K'arik was on his own, but he still needed their beacon. He needed a safety line back if he could not drag himself out of the depths.

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memento-morianon · 1 month ago

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REBLOG WITH THE BIGGEST SPOILER OF YOUR WIP IN ONE SINGLE WORD

#Death #this spoils multiple major plot points while also spoiling absolutely nothing lol

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memento-morianon · 1 month ago

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Happy Storyteller Saturday! You do a lot of world building around sophonts cultures, what sort of festivals and holidays are there in the world of Memento Morianon? Give us a rough summary of major calendar events! :)

I'll just mention the ones that occur during the main plot. After all, with so many different people, the holiday list can get crowded lol I haven't developed every detail yet, outside the ones that are plot relevant.

New Year/Spring Equinox:

i did post a chapter about it over here, though a good portion of it is just bullet point summaries

in the interspecies town where the main story takes place, many different cultural traditions have been combined to create a unique local festival! There is an elvish tradition that my protagonist Morianon participates in every year, where some people (usually teens and young adults) dress up as "banshees" (bald ravens) to run around and cause mild havoc all over the festival. They'll make messes and pretend to eat children who are naughty and drop trinkets on everyone. The elvish belief in the spring equinox is that it's a time of cleansing, when the old is washed away and new things are brought in. so the banshee players disrupt the quiet stillness of the old and clear the air so the new things have a place. Morianon has been doing this role since he started puberty. He's a quetzalin raised by elves, (and he is half elf, but he has a hard time claiming that identity) and the spring equinox coincides with the peak of his annual molt before the courting season. so it helped his confidence a lot to be given full permission to make messes with his feathers already falling out everywhere. he's 30 now and he still plays the role. the younger elves who join in look to him as a mentor and flock leader.

the gnomish tradition for the new year is the trade of trinkets, which the elvish banshees have incorporated into their tricks. it's thought that the more trinkets you trade around, the better your luck will be for the year! so they set up craft booths for little things like braided bracelets and necklace pendants and hair accessories, and everyone trades tiny gifts with each other all day long until the midnight bell rings. it's become a very popular part of this multi-species festival, and the dwarves in the area have taken to it with great enthusiasm. Their new years traditions also involve gift-giving, though normally it's a little more like real life christmas, where children in particular are given fun things like toys and lovers give each other something special.

The orcs and stroi (a cousin species to the elves) have historically been enemies, crossing over each other's hunting territory and all that. the stroi in particular have a long history of stealing from orcish kills. but those days are over and they've become friends and allies in more recent generations. To celebrate this, they have created a new tradition of competing with each other every new year's! it's a game similar to flag football. the orcs on one side with elk or deer costumes, the stroi on the other side with thornbeast costumes (thornbeasts are a type of porcupine that is mostly preyed on by the stroi). they try to score goals with a leather ball and they tie ribbons to their costumes that their opponents have to steal. the more ribbons a player steals, the more bonus points it adds to their team's score. you may think the orcs have an advantage, being nearly twice as large as a stroi, but they're actually quite evenly matched.

the goblins celebrate the spring equinox as their time of awakening, when the last of their hibernating population emerge from the depths of their burrows and they all gather together for a grand feast of all their preserved foods. though many goblins now spend the winter months awake by staying in the warm homes of their mammalian friends, it's still the time of year they can safely go outdoors and not be overwhelmed by the cold. and since they have become integrated into the more diverse interspecies population, they share their food reserves with their neighbors and it becomes a big community potluck.

there are also of course a lot of stories and gossip that get passed around throughout the whole festival, the town square is crowded with musicians and dancers, and small shrines and altars for various deities are set up for those who want to start their new year with prayer and offerings. most of the drow present here are only visitors; young adults leaving the caverns for a time to experience the outside world, or minstrels passing through. some older drow minstrels have settled in the town as the keepers of the local winter shelter for their fellows. they tend to adapt to the holiday traditions wherever they happen to be staying, but drow also celebrate the spring equinox as a time of renewal, similar to the traditions of the elves.

Quetzalin Courting Season:

These tropical bird folks spend half the year functionally asexual and half the year horny as all get out. The start of the courting season is a big deal, with many public performances as the dancers show off their moves. the whole population spends a few weeks feeling very grumpy and itchy and irritable as they go through a full body molt to grow in new pristine feathers, and half the population also grows a et of courting plumage. so once the misery is over with and everyone's libidos have come back in full force, it's a time of excitement. they have daily feasts, open arenas for dancing, and every building is decorated just as much as the people. this enthusiasm lasts for the whole season until the partial molt at the end of it, when the brooding time begins and everyone with eggs to incubate becomes irritable again.

Gnomish Sunflower Festival:

the nomadic gnomes have cultivated many varieties of sunflowers all along their trails, including winter varieties that contain a lot of important nutrients in thick stems while only having small flowers. but most of their sunflowers are grown in the foothills of the mountains, where they spend their summer. as they come to the end of summer and prepare to leave for their winter camps, they harvest the sunflowers and have a big festival about it. there are dances, feasts, and crafting. the majority of the festival is spread over an eight day period. everyone wears yellow and green. sunflowers are an important symbol for them, being associated with both the mountain goddess and the sun god. they make a lot of offerings to their deities before their big journey, asking for guidance and protection. this harvest festival is also the last time the nomadic gnomes will see their family members who chose to stay in settled towns near the mountains, rather than going on annual journeys to the coast and back. my protagonist Evarin is one of those gnomes who lives permanently in a town. Most of these towns are primarily populated by elves who have opened their arms to other folks in need of homes.

this harvest festival is also a time when many young gnomes begin their nomadic journeys, leaving their permanent town homes to spend a few years traveling with other family members. it's a sort of rite of passage/coming of age thing. some gnomes choose to remain nomadic after experiencing the journey while others return to their towns.

Midwinter Festival:

everyone needs a bit of joy in the middle of the cold dark winter. this is another holiday that has been influenced by multiple cultures in the main setting, though it's not quite as extensive as the new year/spring equinox. it occurs around the winter solstice and for many it is a sacred time of prayer and offering. the orcs consider it a time when the dead are easier to commune with, so many of them will ask their priests to contact dead family members and seek wisdom and guidance from their spirits. the nomadic gnomes in their winter home on the coast spend this time having a feast and telling stories, all crowded into warm spaces as they wait out the cold. the gnomes who live in towns still carry this tradition, gathering up with their families and friends. There are also interspecies gatherings with music and dancing, even when it gets cold and snowy. the burst of activity disrupts the winter chill to keep everyone from getting caught in cabin fever. the goblins by this time are well settled into hibernation, but those who spend the winter with mammalian friends will sing together as a prayer of protection for their sleeping kin.

#mm world details #writeblr #original writing #creators club #storyteller saturday

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memento-morianon · 1 month ago

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memento mori; blood, chapter 13 ritual

masterpost of excerpts over here.

in this chapter, K'arik goes through a very important and sacred magic ritual. there is mention of self harm and risk of drowning for the sake of the ritual, because sacrificial magic is the riskiest form of magic. there's good reason it's usually only done for religious and spiritual reasons. there's also mention of nudity, but nothing described very explicitly. tiny mention of cannibalism? in the same vein as the funerary cannibalism in a previous chapter. all for the sake of the sacred and spiritual nature of the ritual.

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It was a quiet evening, stilled by the rain that had come and gone all week. Evarin stood on a bench behind K'arik, pulling his hair into a simple braid while Morianon helped him with the ceremonial strands of carved bone arranged on leather strings, tying them around his arms and waist and neck. K'arik kept his breath slow, kept his eyes focused. The only sound in the whole room was the click of bone beads, the soft crackle of the hearth fire, and the light whispers of K'arik's family as they prepared to accompany him to the ritual. (brain not functioning enough to figure out where to explain this, but K'arik has been fasting all day in preparation, and Mori and Evarin skipped dinner out of solidarity)

"Mori, pass me the tusks," Evarin said, holding out a hand. He handed them up to her and she carefully tied them into the top of the braid, pulling their leather strap through K'arik's hair and looping it around until she was sure it wouldn't come loose. Aside from the beaded strands and the tusks in his hair, K'arik only wore a simple robe of elk hide which he could easily remove.

"Done," Morianon signed with a smile. K'arik nodded and got to his feet, taking his bone knife from the table and tying it to one of the straps around his left wrist.

"It is an honor to have you both with me tonight," he signed, then gently touched their cheeks. Evarin kissed his fingers.

"And we are honored to be here," she replied. She hopped off the bench to join her husband. K'arik's family walked with them as they left the building; only his parents and siblings would be in attendance, while his other relatives helped prepare the morning feast to celebrate.

The sky was still tinged with a faint pink behind the trees, but the moons were rising overhead, almost parallel to the arc. A few orcs were standing at the fire pit in the center of the village, chopping fresh wood. They nodded silently to K'arik and his family as they passed by. Entering the [spiritual building], they were met by the clan elders who ushered them inside and closed the heavy hide curtain behind them.

"Welcome, welcome," one of the elders signed, "everything is ready." He gestured to the back of the room, where an altar had been set up in front of the grand mural that depicted their ancestors, some of whom were also present as carefully cleaned skulls looking over the room. Evarin swept her gaze over their empty sockets, resisting the urge to count them and guess which of them had been her own direct ancestors; her and K'arik's shared great-great grandparents.

K'arik walked forward to the altar while everyone else hung back a few paces. Laid out over the altar was a panel of tattooed leather, on which sat a few large bones and the upper part of an orc skull; all freshly cleaned. K'arik knelt before it and waited as everyone settled in and the elders took their place in front of him. (i'll do so much more description when i revise) Evarin watched in silence, holding Morianon's hand and regulating her breath. Just seeing the five elders standing together made her nerves spike as she thought ahead to the ritual and the song she would be taking part in. The elder in the middle, the one from K'arik's own house, stepped forward to begin the short ceremony. (still working out terms for how to refer to things in the clan, currently settling on five "houses" with a hierarchy of leadership) Given the small audience— only K'arik's immediate family and companions— the elder signed without vocal interpretation.

[The ritual K'arik has been preparing for is a very important tradition that will connect im to his ancestors in a new way, and once he has awakened his spiritual senses he will gain new responsibiltiies with them. The elder comments on his name title: AreshTakran, a title that draws attention to his wise and patient nature. As a final warning, K'arik is told that in order to complete this ritual he must be prepared to endure great physical and mental strain; his soul must be unwavering.]

"If there is any uncertainty in your heart, I advise you to postpone the ritual."

"I am ready now," K'arik replied, holding his head high and signing with deliberate, steady hands. "There is no need to delay."

"Good," the elder nodded, "your confidence is well earned, K'arik AreshTakran." He turned to the elder of the second house, gesturing her forward. She knelt by the altar and unfolded a small bundle of cloth she had been holding, laying it carefully in front of He-esh's skull. A small bit of dried meat sat in the folds.

"Take and eat," she signed, "this flesh is your flesh. May it be an anchor for your soul and bind you to your ancestors' guidance." She bowed her head and returned to her place with the other elders. K'arik reverently lifted the piece to his mouth and swallowed it. He closed his eyes and Evarin saw a tear slip down his cheek. Silently, the elders approached him and each laid a hand on his head. No one spoke a word, waiting in silence, still as statues. For a few hushed moments, the ancestral skulls on the wall seemed to focus their empty gazes. Evarin almost felt as if she could hear their voices blessing K'arik in the final moments before his journey to the ritual site.

The elder of the first house lifted K'arik to his feet and gestured for his loved ones to follow, leading the whole group outside. Evarin swallowed hard and took a deep breath as she fell in line with the others shuffling through the low doorway. Morianon put a wing around her shoulders and held her close.

"You'll sing well," he assured her quietly, "K'arik wants you here." Evarin nodded, but gave no other reply.

Outside, the sky had gone dark and the air had gone cold, though it still carried the gentle warmth of spring. Guided by the rune lights on the ground and the light of the stars and moons above, the small group walked briskly out of the village and down a forest trail. The lights were more spread out beneath the trees, only marking the edges of the path wherever roots and dips might cause one to stumble and trip. It was only a short trek to the lake, though the silence made Evarin feel as if they had been walking twice as long. No one spoke a word, no one tried to sign in the periodic glow of the rune lights.

Everyone approached the edge of the lake and stopped. K'arik's parents and brother stood to the side while the elders helped K'arik out of his robe and tied his bone knife to the bracelet on his right arm. Each of them also removed the outer layers of their clothes, and Evarin left the warmth of Morianon's wing to do the same. K'arik stood fully nude aside from the bone and leather accessories around his neck and arms, while Evarin and the elders wore at least a strip of leather around their waists. Evarin shivered slightly and kept her arms wrapped around her torso. She wasn't used to participating in sacrifcial magic, where it was so common to remove as many barriers as possible to invite more powerul magic into the body. And yet, it was also essential to wear a few things; bone, hide, and hair preferred; in order to keep the soul tethered to the mortal realm.

Evarin stood beside the elders, feeling extra small and out of place. She had no authority in the clan, no right to take part in such a sacred ritual. Only K'arik's request and the clan's grief for her grandmother's disownment gave her a place at his ascension.

"Morianon, you may go ahead," the elder of the first house whispered. Morianon nodded and K'arik's brother, T'oren, approached him quietly to give him a lift. Wings spread, he leapt out over the lake and glided to a perch where the water deepened. His flight feathers were still growing in, staggered lengths making it difficult for him to fly properly. He waited, still as a shadow on the gnarled branch of an old fallen tree. (oh look i forgot the dog again! she's here somewhere. probably. lurking.) Once he was settled, K'arik walked forward to meet him, moving slowly through the muddy shallows and leaving a ripple in the reflected night sky. Moonlight brushed over his body, glinting off the curve of his grandfather's tusks and the polished bone beads around his neck. It was a beautiful sight.

"Evarin," one of the elders leaned down, keeping their voice low, "you'll stand at the back of our line." They frowned apologetically. "Considering your position with our clan, you ought to stand closer to the middle, at least, but your height…"

"I expected to be at the back," Evarin assured them, "I know my place here." She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the tremor in her voice and the anxious pulse of her heart. The elder nodded and stepped back as the others arranged themselves in order. By their placement, they were the elder of the third house. Evarin followed them into the lake, sinking in the large footprints left ahead of her in the cold muck. K'arik made his way out where the water was deep enough to reach his hips, deep enough that Evarin would barely have her head above the surface if she stood at his side. The elders stretched their arms out, spreading their line as far as they could manage. The elder of the first house laid his hand on K'arik's shoulder, and each elder behind him linked hands until the elder of the fifth house was able to reach back and take Evarin's hand. She stepped forward as far as she could, legs tense in the cold water. Small ripples flowed past her, lapping at her body and sending a harsh shiver through her navel. A gasp hissed between her teeth at the sensation but she swallowed her voice and remained stoic.

Evarin had to lean slightly to see K'arik at the front of the line. He turned himself to face the shore, where his family stood as witnesses to the ritual. He raised his bone knife to the center of his chest and steadied his hands. From the front of the line, the first house's elder began singing. His deep voice was joined by each elder behind him, and as Evarin felt their energy flowing towards her soul she joined her voice to theirs. Even with her eyes open, she sensed the shapes of their souls. A line of gleaming fire, like the beacons she had seen on the coast during her nomadic journey. Their song was not a proper spell with a clear effect, but a blessing and a guide for K'arik. They sang of strength and life, and their words drew in the ambient power all around them. K'arik could not hear any of it, but Evarin could feel the way his soul reacted to their energy, flaring brightly.

Evarin turned her gaze to Morianon, anxiously watching his reaction. If anything went wrong, he would be the first to see it and sound the alarm. He sat with his wings half furled, leaning forward, eyes trained on the ripple where K'arik had gone under.

Strength, life, safety, guidance. Evarin lost the sound of her own voice as it blended with the voices of the elders before her. Every sound echoed around the lake, until it felt like she was singing with a whole choir. Strength, life, safety, guidance. The gleaming arc in the sky and the moons beside it flashed in the little waves that rolled past her, casting their cold light over the living world. Evarin wondered if her grandmother was watching her, if her great-great-grandparents recognized her as their own descendant even though she was a gnome. Strength, life, safety, guidance. She pushed herself to sing louder, pulling from the depths of her own soul to give voice to that ancient tongue all her ancestors shared.

Dimly, she could feel K'arik's soul, like watching a candle behind an obsidian mirror. It glowed brighter, brighter, and at last he burst out of the lake, gasping for air, and his soul burned like the sun. The elders halted their song, one by one. The first elder caught K'arik by the arm, steadying him. Blood trickled down K'arik's belly, dark agaisnt his skin in the moonlight. His eyes were wide with wonder, darting all around him. Evarin let go of the fifth elder's hand and coughed dryly, her throat and head aching. In spite of her exhaustion, she smiled as she watched K'arik's stunned face turn into a look of pure joy. He gestured as if to sign, but his hands kept halting like he was being interrupted. In the lingering energy of the ritual, Evarin could feel them, faint and fading; the presence of spirits hanging around K'arik, interacting with him. He-esh and Elkha, no doubt, proudly greeting their grandson and congratulating him. They wouldn't be communicating quite so directly, of course, but it was easy enough to see how K'arik reacted to their presence, how his tears mingled with the lake water dripping down his face. He laughed in awe.

"I knew it would only take him one try," the fifth elder chuckled under their breath. They turned to Evarin and squatted to be near her level. "You sang beautifully. I'm very glad you joined us tonight."

"Thank you." She only spared them a respectful glance as she continued to watch K'arik commune with the spirits. Morianon tried to catch his attention, though Evarin couldn't quite see what he was signing. K'arik finally met Morianon's gaze and gestured in half-words, but something else seemed to draw his attention and his expression became concerned. Evarin took a thoughtless step forward, stumbling in the muck and getting a fresh splash of cold water unpleasantly between her legs which sent another shiver through her whole body. All the warmth of the song had faded, leaving her standing in a muddy lake with only a strip of leather to stave off the night's chill.

Morianon tucked his wings close around himself and K'arik shook his head, waving a hand dismissively. The elders closest to him brought his focus back and had a brief conversation with him, their hands still obscured from Evarin's line of sight. She sighed and backed away, following the other elders to the shore where K'arik's father was striking up a small fire. Evarin shook the muck off her legs and found her folded cloak, wrapping it around her shoulders. (probably ought to have mentioned like, a bag where she could keep a towel idk). As she toweled off and discreetly removed her ritual accessories so she could put on her normal clothes again, the sound of Morianon's flapping wings approached her, followed by a few hasty landing steps on the damp ground.

"They said it was alright for everyone to go back to the village," he told her, "K'arik wants to stay a little longer and get used to things. Th'elir brought food for him so he can end his fast once he comes to shore." He picked up the ritual things she had laid aside.

"I'm ready to go," Evarin murmured, glancing back at the lake and K'arik standing in the soft glow of light reflected from its surface. "I'm sure he won't mind if we just take his bed for the night."

"He'll join us later, when he's ready. Do you need me to carry anything else for you?"

"No, I've got it." Evarin folded the towel in her arms and stepped close to Morianon, pushing his wing aside so it would fold over her as they walked away and found the path back to the village. "You're lucky not to have external genitalia, you know," Evarin huffed, "every time there was a ripple or a splash, I just got a cold slap right to my groin." She shook her head and laughed in petty frustration.

"Well, at least you didn't have to do it in the winter, right?" Morianon bumped her side with his elbow. "I don't think they'd allow that anyway, it's difficult enough in the spring. Watching K'arik go under like that was unnerving. I almost called out, near the end."

"Really?" Evarin tilted her head and Morianon nodded, eyes fixed on the dimly lit path.

"It felt like he'd been under for an eternity. The bubbles were sparse. I couldn't tell if he was safe or not. But I hesitated, and then he came back up, so I guess it was fine."

"Is that what you two were talking about at the end? K'arik looked concerned." Evarin felt Morianon tense up beside her, all his feathers raising on end. He didn't answer right away, slowing his steps and shaking his head.

"No, no, it's just that he thought he saw… Well I think it must have just been another spirit he wasn't expecting, you know? There are some old souls in his family that aren't as nice as He-esh and Elkha. Probably one of them, right? Some distant ancestor who didn't think I belonged, maybe." He kept his gaze on the trail, though Evarin saw a flicker of worry pinch his brow.

"Maybe not so distant," she mused, "could have been He-esh's older brother." The same who had supported her own grandmother's banishment, though she couldn't imagine a spirit like that willingly attending K'arik's ritual just to sneer at someone who couldn't sense their presence. "Well, no matter, spirits can't harm anyone."

"Yeah. And, you know, even though I hated watching most of the ritual, it was nice to see K'arik so happy." Morianon lifted his gaze for a moment, seeing the village through the trees. "What do you think He-esh and Elkha said to him? He looked absolutely overjoyed."

"Spirits can't speak directly," Evarin waved a hand at the empty air, "when I did my studies, I learned about it. They can only communicate through emotions, or something like that. They must have shown him how proud they were."

"I'm glad he could see them again."

"Me too."

They entered the village, crossing through to K'arik's home. The hearth fire was burning strong, warming them both instantly. Senik was still awake, tending the hearth while he waited for his sister and nephews to return form the lake. He looked up as Evarin and Morianon sat across from him and gave them a welcoming wave.

"Senik, could you bring us a washbin of warm water?" Morianon signed, "Evarin was standing in the mud the whole time."

"Right away," Senik replied with a smile and a nod. He hurried off to the kitchen at the back of the longhouse and Morianon knelt on the floor, taking the towel Evarin had been carrying and laying it over his lap.

"Just a quick foot bath before bed," he explained, folding up the hem of her skirt to keep it from getting wet. She rested her chin on her hands and looked down at him lovingly. Senik soon returned with two bins of warm water and a small basket of hoof cleaning supplies that were mostly too large for Morianon to use properly. He thanked Senik and carefully rested Evarin's feet in the water, which was a wonderful contrast to the cold lake. He gently scrubbed away the layer of mud and forest debris until the first bin was filthy. Scooting it aside, he dunked her feet in the clean second bin and rubbed them down with a sweet smelling soap. Not a word passed between them as he worked, but Evarin could see the tension in his body fade away as his hands worked between her toes and over her hooves, clearing away every last hint of the lake's muck. He sighed in satisfaction and at last placed her feet on his lap to dry them on a clean section of the towel.

Senik took away the bins of dirty water unprompted, carrying them outside for disposal. While he stepped out, Morianon lifted Evarin's feet and softly kissed them in his nibbling bird-like manner.

"There," he murmured. Evarin stood up and lifted him with her. They both bid Senik good night when he came back inside, and he returned the gesture. K'arik and the others were still out, though Evarin was sure they'd come home soon enough. She and Morianon entered K'arik's room, pulling the hide curtain closed behind them and stripping off the outer layers of their clothes before they crawled onto the pile of furs and snuggled into each other's arms to sleep. Evarin only woke slightly when she felt K'arik join them some time later, bending his body and arms around them without a hint of hesitation.

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