#Just tribe things

[theriu]

I like to think that at least once, the Avatar cycle seemed to skip the Water Tribe—like people knew it was the water tribe’s turn, everyone was looking for them, the tests are done on all the kids, but like 60-80 years go by and no avatar until some Earth Kingdom kid shows up. People wonder if the cycle skipped a generation or what, but nothing serious was going on at that time so they shrug and move on.

It’s only many many years later that someone is researching Swampbender oral history and someone tells the story of “Ol Stinky Jess, she was a funny one, could light the swamp on fire an’ all sorts o’ shenanigans! Best catfishgator catcher in the tribe, she was” and thats literally it, she just lived a totally chill life in the swamp and nobody knew what an avatar was at the time so they just rolled with that funny gal’s odd bending ways.

[talesfromthegameff14]

Cast in Ice - Arrosez

They didn’t know why they hadn’t thought of it earlier, the sword that Egg summoned had sent a chill up their spine the first time Rose saw it.  There wasn’t time to dwell on it then, not with combat singing about them and death’s promise hanging in the air.  Here though, in the halls that had fostered their love of books and learning?  Here was a different story, a tale remembered from their time as a priestess calling to them like a siren.  Rose wandered the empty halls, opening holes in the stone walls to avoid detection where a sleepy librarian wandered in the early dawn.  The rock sealed up behind them as if it never moved, more than willing to aid the Boise de Coeur on their hunt.

The architecture changed as they went up levels and then again when they walked into the rooms that housed the tomes on the devotion of Halone.  This was one of the newer appearing areas of the subterranean library, remodeled to fit the architecture of Ishgard from whence the goddess came.  The story was an often told one on Hallone’s holy days, of how the goddess walked with Oschon to see the land that he made.  Now if they could just find the right book...  It didn’t take long at all, a half dozen or so tomes later and Rose tucked into a chair in a shadowy corner of the room with the book in hand.  They were careful as they turned the pages, the preservation spells here were carefully maintained.  Even with that extra protection the pages were still delicate, a slick of aether between fingers and paper a long standing habit they had even if it wasn’t needed for these books.  A smile crossed their lips as the story was found, a content sound rumbling in their chest as their eyes slowed to read instead of skim.  The tale started at the very beginning, when the raw stuff of star was molded into a place for the life that Nophica bore could flourish. Oschon’s heart wandered the star, setting his feet upon the road no matter what else called to him.  Not even the love of Llymlaen could keep the Wanderer from his lonely road.  Once, he invited Halone to travel with him, to see the world she and her brother had been born into.  The trip was a bloody one as her ambition turned towards combat, outfitting herself with a sword and shield carved from the ice upon one of Oschon’s mountain peaks.  Every new creature the goddess came upon was challenged to combat.  With each fight her sword, Excalibur, drank deeply of the blood of the creatures she defeated.  The essence of the fallen didn’t stain the sword and shield, instead it strengthened the brittle ice until it was harder than the finest steel.  Pride shined in the goddess’ eyes, the strength of her conviction was unshakeable and it showed in every step she took.  Until she was confronted with the rage of Nophica at the wanton slaughter of her children that is.  There is nothing like a mother’s rage and vengeance burned in the blood of the Matron that another of the Twelve would cast her creations into the ravening void to drift for an eternity.  It was Oschon’s guilt at his hand in Halone’s journey that brought the solution, the last of the gods born out of fire and magma to counter the bite of Halone’s frost.  Nald’thal, the Keeper of Souls gathered up the lives drifting in the void and brought them home to the aetherical sea to be born again.  For her own penance, Halone cast aside Excalibur.  Throwing it into the magma that Oschon formed the essence of Nald’thal from.  The sword was tempered in the blood of many and despite being doused in its opposite it didn’t melt upon contact with the lifeblood of the Star.  Instead it sank into the depths of the twin’s realm, to never be wielded again. 

Rose’s eyes lingered on the pictures that illuminated the story, telling a tale of their own without a need of words for one to understand.  It was the second to last drawing that kept their attention, the majestic figure of Halone throwing a sword of ice into the flames.  There was no regret in the goddess’ expression.  Justice had to be served, even among the Twelve.  The tool had served her well, but it was best to let it and the souls it stored go, so they too could move on from this life to the next. 

At least, that is how the tale was told.  But what if the sword remained intact to this day?  The resemblance to the drawing in the book and the sword Egg held was uncanny in its precision.  So much so that Rose was tempted to tear a drawing from the book, but they couldn’t quite bring theirself to do it.  Instead they tucked the book into their robes and stood, better to steal a book than deface it.  Particularly one that there should be copies of in the Temple of the Three.  If not? They wouldn’t keep it that long.  Right?  Right! 

Keeping their thoughts focused on the moment didn’t help contain the dread that curled in the pit of their stomach at the idea of Egg being caught up in that. A weapon that claimed so many innocent lives and almost caused a rift between the Twelve is not something for anyone to touch, particularly not a mortal.  A part of them hoped they were wrong even as they resigned theirself to it being true.  It was an answer, more than they had before.  Hopefully it could put them on the path of freeing the Captain from the net he’s caught in.  Hopefully. 

[demaparbat-hp]

Their actual first meeting in the Kyoshi Warriors AU!

Katara had her Oh moment before exchanging a word with Jian Li, and while she gets over it in time (or, at least, convinces herself that she's not embarrassed by her initial reaction to him) this quasi-interaction haunts her for the first couple of days of their stay in Kyoshi Island.

It's just not fair that the place is full of gorgeous people! Or that he's not only beautiful, but also kind and awkward and respectful and dorky and—oh, La—she's in trouble.

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

To all my fellow, “Zukka in the southern water tribe” enthusiasts

[discordiansamba]

the other Zuko time travel AU idea is that when he travels back in time, he ends up right back where he started a year ago when Aang came out of the iceberg... except he arrives two years early, right after the men leave the Southern Water Tribe.

and by that I mean, he lands face first in the snow, panics and ends up playing dumb. yes, he's Fire Nation. no, he doesn't actually know how he got here either (not technically a lie). no, he's not here to harm anyone and he wouldn't want to. he's working against the Fire Nation. Promise. For real.

And it's... a little hard to take the guy who just manifested in the middle of your village and faceplanted in the snow as a threat. Zuko figures well. fuck it. Aang's going to come out of that iceberg eventually. He might as well stick around here. What else is he going to do? Besides, they look like they could use the help around here... and if he's being honest, he's still feeling pretty guilty about the whole. ramming his ship into their village thing.

Hey, maybe he can even give Sokka some warrior tips- and Katara some waterbending tips. He remembers some of the katas he saw her practice. This could work out great!

(also Sokka and Katara are so small. holy shit.)

you've heard of (character) adopts Zuko. Now get ready for Zuko adopts Sokka and Katara.

[serpentface]

There are three hyaenids found within the Imperial Wardi region- the hisippate, the highland hyena (kyniche na chennandi), and the scrub hyena (kyniche). (None are actually related to the king hyena).

The hisippate (name is close in meaning to 'stinking one', sometimes instead called '(wild) ant-dog' ('kulichin-wannaukoma')) is very distantly related to the other two. They are small, mostly solitary animals that sleep in burrows during the day and emerge to hunt at night. They are almost exclusively insectivorous, and their diet consists primarily of termites and ants that are lapped up with a long, strong tongue. The hisippate has a wide range, with their populations being highest in grassland and savanna regions with a high density of termites.

They are named for their foul smelling anal gland secretions, which are used to mark their territory and can be sprayed short distances to repel predators. Their highly visible black and white coat (which is erected in threat display) indicates them as not worth the trouble of eating. This is partly an honest advertisement of its chemical defenses, but may function as mimicry of a substantially more threatening native badger that can spray with great accuracy at distances of up to 10 feet (while the spray of the hitsippate is untargeted and only potent within a meter of the body).

The highland and scrub hyenas are the most numerous and successful predators within the region, with their populations having exploded in the past several centuries with the decline of the Wardi lion. Both live in matriarchal clan structures with strict dominance hierarchies, maintained not by individual size and strength but by highly complex networks of coalitions. All members of a clan can reproduce, and young inherit rank positions just beneath that of their mothers. Most males eventually disperse, entering into new clans at the very bottom of their hierarchy. They exhibit no obvious sexual dimorphism, and females often can only be differentiated from males by the shape of their pseudopenis.

The scrub hyena is most widely distributed and can be found throughout most of the region in a variety of lowland habitats, faring best in savannah and open grassland with high populations of grazing ungulates. This species is distinguished by well-defined spots and stripes and a sparse mane, though their coloration varies by individual and population, ranging from reddish to pale white-brown. Their clans can number upwards of a hundred individuals in the most prey-dense territories, though most are smaller.

The highland hyena is unique to the northwest of the region. As the name suggests, they have specialized into surviving in higher altitude climes, but can also be found in the remaining pockets of surrounding forest (and once had a much larger range across the former northern forests). Their spotting is often less visible than their lowland relatives, though their base coloration is similarly variable. Their clan sizes are substantially smaller than the scrub hyena, as they inhabit regions with much lower prey densities.

Both are closely related (whether they are subspecies or separate species would be subject of debate by taxonomists) and can produce viable young. Heavily hybridized populations are common where their ranges overlap. Scrub hyenas appear to breed more readily with dispersing male highland hyenas than the reverse.

Hyenas occupy an overall minor space in most of the Wardi cultural sphere. They are noted negatively as man/corpse eaters, but are generally regarded as intelligent and powerful predators and avoid the stigma attached to man-eating scavengers. In most cases they are not ascribed much significance in comparison to the venerated lion or the massive and intimidating king-hyena, mostly being relegated to a threat to livestock and potential danger to lone travelers.

Many urban areas in the province of Godsmouth (including the outer unwalled portions of the eponymous city) have unique practices of not only tolerating but actively inviting scrub hyenas into urban spaces. These urban hyena populations have been genetically semi-isolated from their wilder counterparts for several centuries. Rather than hunting large prey, they fill similar roles to feral dogs in the urban landscape as cleaners of refuse and killers of pests, and benefit from their species being culturally regarded as powerful predators rather than lowly scavengers. They notably predate on the considerably more reviled feral dogs, and keep their populations much lower than other parts of the region. Their role is regarded as both a physically and spiritually cleansing force, with their presence neutralizing polluting elements (while not being sacred in of itself).

The Godsmouth hyenas show little fear of humans compared to their wild relatives, though their activity peaks at nighttime hours to avoid close contact. They are sometimes raised from cubs to be fully tamed (though are not truly domesticated) and used as guards or to assist in hunting (Godsmouth's designated dog hunters notably have traditions of keeping hyenas). This practice is essentially exclusive to the province of Godsmouth- hyenas rarely establish semi-urban populations in other parts of the region, and those who do have considerably greater fear of humans, usually sneaking in under the cover of night to feed on scraps and fleeing from encounters.

The status of hyenas varies in the other groups native to the region. For example:

Hyenas have a generally favorable status to the Cholemdinae, who have traditionally reckoned them as highest among predators, noting their stamina and intelligence. Body parts of hyenas are ascribed the ability to increase the wearer's stamina, and amulets carved from hyena bones are often worn while persistence hunting. Children born while hyenas are heard crying are considered to be strong and very likely to survive infancy (and will often be given names referencing the animals). The apparent androgyny of hyenas is allegorically attributed to the creation story- the first beings were dual-sexed, and split into male and female halves as part of their punishment for the theft of fire from the sun. The hyena escaped this punishment by digging into the underworld to hide and getting only its once long, luxurious tail chopped off (which was sticking out from the hole).

((TANGENT: The South Wardi have more recent common cultural ancestry to the Cholemdinae than to most of the other groups assimilated into the collective Wardi nationality. The notion of hyenas once having long, flowing tails that got chopped off in some mishap still appears in South Wardi animal folktales))

They have a largely disfavorable reputation to the Hill Tribes, and are generally regarded as gluttonous and brutish in nature. The Highlands have a naturally lower density of wild ungulates, made far lower by most grazing pasture being occupied by livestock. This causes hyenas (and other large predators) to more frequently predate on domestic animals, and thus places them directly in conflict with herders (and also makes them common rabies vectors). They are readily culled when found in proximity to villages. Hyena pelts are generally considered worthless, and culled hyenas will often be fed whole to livestock guardian dogs and their pups in hopes of teaching them to be fearless towards the predators. Were-hyenas appear in folklore- among the southwestern Hill Tribes they are most commonly the accursed spirits of cannibals, while in the northeast they are malicious witches who learned secret arts of transformation and take on these forms to wreak havoc upon their enemies.

[harbingersecho]

"zuzu, you didn't tell your friends about me? i'm hurt."

[hishighnesstheprincess]

Guys I'm gonna be so fucking fr with you if this turns out to be real I'm fully giving up on these movies

[feroluce]

So I've already seen this one pointed out, but in the new CG, Boothill's older human form doesn't really match what people thought it should. Of course it could just be neglect on Hoyo's part like I've seen speculated, but personally? With the other lore we got from this patch, combined with some of the stuff we already had, I'd love to think there is a possibility that is way, WAY more fun.

(fun for me and all the other whump enjoyers, anyway, RIP Boothill fjkasjkdj)

In Boothill's lc, we see him in the middle of his surgery where he threw away his flesh and bone body for steel and cybernetics. We know it was The Big Surgery and not just like some sort of tune up or modification because of the description attached to the lc:

Which is where a lot of the dissonance comes in, because in this lc, Boothill's hair is much, much longer than in the cg.

And as someone who also has super long hair, I can tell you that it would take like. Multiple years to grow it out to this length.

There's also the fact that these cybernetic arms don't even match, the lc is the one that looks like our Boothill does now. And there's no reason for Boothill's shirt to be ripped up and in tatters like that; it even states he takes off his clothes before the lc surgery. If it were a matter of Hoyo needing to censor nudity, there were plenty of other methods they could have used that would make more sense, like a hospital gown, a blanket, surgical partition, etc

When will I get to see Boothill with all his scars, Hoyo, when, quit cockblocking me!!! OTL

But there was also another piece of new lore this patch that hit me like a fuckin' brick- the fact that Boothill was tortured by the IPC.

He just drops this out of nowhere! Just says it and then moves right along!! BABY, PLEASE. I WANNA KNOW MORE SO GODDAMN BAD.

But anyway as Hydrachea pointed out to me, this means the torture definitely had to happen before the lc surgery, because being whipped with a belt soaked in saltwater (fucking OUCH) wouldn't work on someone with metal skin.

So, we know that the IPC did, at some point, capture Boothill. And this is reaching further back to previous patches, but we also know from the Luminary Wardance event in 2.5 that the IPC also dabbles in cybernetic arms, because of the one they foisted on Luka.

The model there is a new one they're debuting, but we see in a flashback sequence that the IPC has been part of the cybernetics game for at least 700-800 years, because they also manipulated Igor into getting one too, and this could have only happened before the Eternal Freeze on Jarilo-VI.

It's never stated just how old Boothill is, or how long ago the genocide on Aeragan-Epharshel took place.

But I doubt it was more than 700-800 years ago.

I really don't think Boothill is that old, or has been doing this for that long. So he definitely would have been captured at a point that the IPC was manufacturing cybernetic arms, and had a known history of amputating perfectly healthy patients to use them.

I wonder if all their test subjects were willing.

(This part is entirely unnecessary for the new cg showing Boothill being a forced lab rat as part of the IPC torturing him. But it is a fun, delightful, bloodily gruesome twist of the knife nonetheless.

Boothill was also betrayed by his own brothers-in-arms on Aeragan-Epharshel. For the IPC. Just saying.)

[dialga64bitz]

Aughhh brynth angst with a song that hits close to home.

[wickedcriminal]

(Tfw you're the most reliable person in the roster and you're only like 12)

Httyd 2 is where the Hooligans start to think Elder may be too carefree and naive to be chief, Snotlout is too gradious to do the job right, and find that they truly appreciate the wise, diplomatic nature of Younger. Maybe we should make the little guy chief instead 💁

Bonus:

#1 most irresponsible older brother 😂

(Speech bubble text beneath readmore:)

Hiccup the Younger: If I had a gold piece for every time Gobber told me to usurp my brother for the throne of Berk I'd have three gold pieces and at this point I'm starting to think he's being serious

Little Fishlegs: Well, why not? It's a very honorable position– and you'd be great at it!

Younger: Sure, but that's Hiccup's job. It's not like I WANT it. Besides, Snotlout's the runner-up heir, not me, so I'd have to challenge him, too. I'm in Last Place, Fishlegs. Maybe it's better that way.

Little Fish: You sell yourself too short. Most of the tribe would be happy to see you on the throne instead of Snotlout. Heck, they're prefer you to Mr. Elder! All the adults say Mr. Elder is too immature. Gobber even says they're going to approach Stoick personally about lifting your rank.

Younger: Very funny.

(Silence)

Younger: WAIT— ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

...

Astrid: Shirking your heirly duties, as usual.

Astrid: You know, maybe Gobber's right, and Minicup should usurp you and take over the tribe.

Astrid: NO— YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO AGREE!!!

[bucephaly]

It's kinda shocking to me how few people seem to know how prevalent the 'my great grandmother was cherokee' myth is and how it's almost never actually true, especially when it comes with things like 'never signed up' or 'fell off the trail' or 'courthouse burned down destorying the documentation' etc etc.

People just don't even seem to know the history like.. when the Trail happened. My great great great grandfather was 2 years old during Removal in 1838, so peoples 'my great grandmother hid in the mountains!' is so clearly wrong. And we have rolls. From before and after removal, rolls done by cherokee nation and others by the government, rolls that were not stored in one random flammable courthouse. It's not difficult to find the actual evidence of ancestry.

And just.. there are lots of ways those family stories get started. It was a practice during the confederacy to claim cherokee ancestry to show one's family had 'deep roots in the south' that they were there before the cherokee were removed. Many people pretended to be cherokee and applied for the Guion-Miller payout just to try to steal money meant for cherokees - 2/3rds of the applicants were denied for having 0 proof of actual cherokee ancestry. [We even see lawyers advertising signing up for the Miller roll just to try to get free money.] And the myth even started in some families in the cherokee land lotteries, where the land stolen from us was raffled off, including the house and everything that was left behind when the cherokees were removed. We have seen people whose families just take these things stolen from the cherokee family and adopt them into their own family story, saying that they were cherokee themselves.

If you had some family story about being cherokee and you wanna have proof one way or the other, check out this Facebook group run by expert cherokee genealogists that do research for free. Just please read the rules fully and respect the researchers. They run thousands of people's ancestries a year and their average is only around 0.7% of lines they run actually end up having true cherokee ancestry.

[demaparbat-hp]

Zutara makes a statement.

[fipindustries]

people constantly talk about making a little middle age peasant boy try a can of monster or whatever to give them cultural shock but one thing i genuenly wonder about is how they would have reacted to modern artstyles, particularly cartoon and anime ones.

like, we can see anime girls or random fanart on tumblr and think nothing of it because we grew up in a cultural context where they were either the norm or we saw the artistic evolution from the style we grew up with into the current styles. but like imagine presenting a victorian child (whose only exposure to comics might have been the yellow kid and hasnt gotten to see the creation of the rubberhose style which would evolve into the disney style which would later inspire osamu tezuka who would set the foundations for the anime style that would evolve across half a century into moeblobs or whatever) to an image of panty and stocking or dragon maid.

would he be able to parse that this is supposed to depict people? would he think they look attractive or that they look like deformed homunculi. would this little german boy, fresh off the coal mines, be able to appreciate that characters like the powerpuff girls are supposed to look cute? that the designs of the characters in arcane are meant to be compelling and aspirational? would hans who is two months away from dying from tuberculosis, think that the simpsons look like incoherent doodles from someone who has no idea how to draw? would he understand the stylization in the way that lisa's and bart's hairline fades into their heads or think they are disturbingly mishappen? would he be able to understand that bugs bunny is supposed to be a rabbit or would the proportions of his limbs throw him for a loop? he would probably be able to understand furries, after all anthropomophized animals are something that human culture has had since the very beggining, but would he have it within himself the capacity to get as obsessed as kids today get over them? we have to remember we grew up in a culture where humanized animals, specifically depicted in a semi disney-cartoonish style, has been the main component in a little kid's media diet, but would this kid, who at 12 years of age has never seen a sparkle dog, be capable of being as enchanted by this as kids today?

these questions keep me up at night.

[premamelody]

i think they'd be somewhat friends

[serpentface]

A braithuvi horse at rest under the close protection and watchful, scary, pale-eyed gaze of her herd's guardian, a dírgrahdain. Both are landraces developed within the Highlands. The ancestors of braithuvi (and other Highlands native horses) were brought overseas by the ancestors of the Hill Tribes, while the dogs were obtained from native livestock guardian landraces used by proto-Wardi tribes. Each have become distinct over their centuries of living in the Highlands, and dírgrahdain are have a particularly unique place in the cultural schema.

Braithuvi are a woolly horse breed (and one of many, wool horses are widespread, second only to camala in value for textiles) that are also somewhat specialized for milk production. Their meat is relatively poor (other horses are preferred), but they produce high yields of milk and thick, continuous growths of wool.

Horses are not as culturally significant as cattle to most in the Highlands, but are still highly valued animals that are critical to subsistence. Few plant-based textiles can be produced in the Highlands, and almost all in the region are made with braithuvi wool. They can eat a greater variety of forage than cattle, more efficiently converting energy intake from pastures into milk and wool. Their milk is considered to be the very best of all livestock, and is usually what is used to make the prized murre beverage.

Dogs have a very small specific place in the cultures of the Hill Tribes as utilitarian working animals (specifically for livestock and occasionally as home/village guardians), and rarely ever fill other functions. The practice of keeping dogs purely for companionship is virtually nonexistent (though affectionate bonds between people and their herding or household guard dogs will be fairly common), and their meat is considered worthless. Most dogs are not elevated within the cultural schema, and tend to be merely appreciated as useful, loyal animals. Livestock guardian dogs are an exception to this, and tend to be of more significant cultural import. They are animals that exist to protect the herds on which all subsistence depends, and thus have an elevated cultural status and roles in religion and folklore as uniquely protective entities.

Dírgrahdain are the key livestock guardian dogs in the region, and the only natively developed LGD. Their name means 'lion dog', both in reference to their maned appearance and their ability to fend off and even kill the largest of predators. The dogs are characterized by tall, long-legged builds, deep chests, a curly tail, thick hair (and a thicker winter coat), and a shaggy mane. Their bodies tend to be thinner and lankier than their fur coat suggests, but still well-muscled and powerful. Their coloration can vary wildly, but a black mask with a brown or reddish body like this is most typical. Unnerving, pale eyes are prized in these dogs, with the belief that they not only intimidate predators but are uniquely potent at fending off malicious spirits.

The dog's exclusive function is to protect livestock. They are used primarily for the defense of horses, which are small and very vulnerable to predators (lions, hyenas, king hyena, wild dogs, jackals, nechoi, and even eagles can be threats), though some dogs will usually be posted up with cattle herds to deter raiders.

Pups are most commonly born in the field among their herds. They will be carried in their master's coat while still nursing, but will be allowed to join their mother in her duties from the moment they are strong enough to follow. Dírgrahdain live with their herds day and night. Most will never see the inside of a home, and most seem to prefer it that way. They form close and protective bonds with their charges, and will thoroughly integrate themselves into the social fabric of the herd.

These dogs are not human-oriented, and will usually only form bonds with people that they have imprinted on as puppies (and will merely be cool and polite to those met later in life). They are highly aggressive towards strangers, and introductions must be done incrementally and with great care. This is desirable, as this trait makes them an excellent line of defense against livestock raids. Their loud, booming barks can alert of intruders from a great distance, and they can often successfully intimidate khait, causing some mounted raids to end in humiliating failure. Dírgrahdain are often killed in raids, either to fend off the attacking dog or to silence it before its master can be alerted. This is not outright dishonorable, but not something one will be commended for. Cattle raiding culture here values swiftness, stealth, and strategy- such smash and grab tactics are seen as brutish (and will often result in harsher retribution).

Like most LGDs, they primarily defend their herds by displays of aggression and power, using their loud bark, fearsome growl, and powerful bodies to chase and intimidate predators away without physical contact. Even so, it is necessary for all working dírgrahdain to be willing and able to physically confront predators when necessary. A well-trained, well-bonded dog will defend their herds with their very life, and is often effective in combat against even very large wild predators. Their dense ‘manes’ offer a degree of protection from wounds to the throat, and may be supplemented with spiked collars.

If a mother dog kills a predator, it is often customary to open the carcass and lead her puppies to feed on it. This is thought to teach the pups to be fearless against their enemies, and that they will grow up to be uniquely powerful and brave adults. Pups are given names upon reaching adult size, and ones who have consumed the flesh of predators will get unique names related to their mother's kill, or epithets as supplements to a given name (the exact details of this practice culturally varies). One might encounter dogs in the Highlands named things like Lionsbane, Hyena-killer, She Who Bites Jackals, Lion-Fed Shaggy (Lion-Fed being the honorable epithet, Shaggy being the dog's name, possibly given by a very small child)

The mere gaze of a dírgrahdain is said to fend off malicious spirits, and their thundering bark can scare away even the most dangerous of mountain devils. Their shed hair is needle felted into little dolls (usually into the form of dogs themselves) and placed into the cradles of infants and worn as charms by children to protect them from harm (both mundane and supernatural). Manes taken from dead dírgrahdain have uses among some of the Hill Tribes, and are typically only allowed to be used by their masters (unless recieved as a gift). The most prominent usages are being worn to fend off evil spirits and predators while traveling alone, and some traditions involve placing the manes around the necks or across the bellies of women in labor as a means of spiritual protection for mother and child during birth.

The Hill Tribes and Wardi both identify the same constellation along the ecliptic as a dog. In the case of the former, this stellar dog is identified as Mak-Urudain, a gigantic dírgrahdain with fur the color of flame and eyes as bright as stars, who is the eternal guardian of the Celestial Fields. He allows the souls of the worthy dead to pass into the afterlife and for esteemed ancestors to descend back to the land to guide the living, while preventing malicious spirits, devils, and the dishonored dead from entry.

One Bernike tale describes her attempting to fly into the Celestial Fields to steal the heavenly cattle who graze there. She took the form of a golden eagle, pretending to be an ancestor returning from a sojourn to the world of the living in order to get past the guardian hound. Mak-Urudain was not fooled for long, and led her on a long chase through the night sky before capturing her and hurling her out of the Celestial Fields.

She was never able to even touch the ground of the Fields (much less take any cattle), but had just enough time to take a single seed of heavenly grass in her beak. She returned to her mountain (missing most of her tail feathers and much of her pride) and planted the grass in her then-barren slopes. This is why the grass on Bernike's mountain is so tall and abundant and why cattle there grow so fat and healthy, like all cattle will in the afterlife. The howling winds heard from the mountaintops are playfully suggested to be the barks and howls of Mak-Urudain, calling down from the heavens to keep the witch grounded in the world of the living.