#they are river fishers !! live in a forest

[aibouart]

anyone got the latest monthly challenge thing artists do (like goretober or whatever)

am out of the loop on everything ever would love to take a gander at upcoming or ongoing ones

[pretzel-box]

Summary: You're a mortal fisher that catches the attention of an ancient sea god without knowing it.

Tags: Some 'fluff', mortal reader, sea god sebastian

Words: 2,6k

There was a small village that was cradled on the edge of an unknown island like a forgotten secret among humans, made out of solid stone, earth and sand while being shaped by the restless waves of the deep ocean. Narrow cobbled streets would wound between the homes of sun-bleached woods and weathered bricks while fine smoke curled up from the going chimneys, mingling with the salty sea air. Many signs of a life gathered around this place despite its unknown status.

The endless ocean surrounded the village on all sides, an eternal sentinel, its deep blue waves gently lapping at the shoreline as if it were whispering ancient lullabies. The sun hung low in the sky, casting the world in hues of gold and lavender, where the horizon blurred into a seamless meeting of sea and sky. The sound of gulls crying in the distance echoed through the air, carried by the wind that rustled through the tall grasses and wildflowers growing at the island’s edge.

Farther out, where the cliffs rose jagged and defiant against the endless ocean, the waves crashed with a furious roar, sending white spray high into the air. Yet here, within the village, the sea was gentle—a mirror reflecting the sky’s fading light.

Small fishing boats bobbed in the harbor, tethered to wooden posts worn smooth by years of use. Their painted hulls were chipped and faded, yet they held a quiet dignity, as if they had borne witness to centuries of tides, storms, and the steady rhythm of life. Nets hung drying on the docks, draped like lace over the old wood, waiting for the morning light to send the fishermen back to the open sea.

The wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of salt and damp earth. A few villagers, their faces lined with age and the sea’s touch, gathered in quiet conversation near the docks, their voices low, as if unwilling to disturb the peace. Lanterns flickered to life in the twilight, casting a soft, golden glow over the village, like stars scattered across the earth.

As the day gave way to dusk, the village seemed to breathe, a living thing, connected to the ocean and sky in a way that was timeless. The sea, the cliffs, the forest—they were all one with the village, woven into its very being. And as the stars began to emerge, one by one, above the endless horizon, the island seemed to settle into itself, cradled by the ocean’s eternal embrace, waiting for whatever secrets the tides might bring.

"Listen, my child. Our story began long ago, when the gods still walked the earth and the stars were young."

Once upon a time…

The land was molded by the hands of glorious deities, their fingers painting the skies and carving the rivers. They placed the sun on the horizon and the plains upon the earth. The world flourished, but with its growth came envy, as some gods overshadowed others. To gain power, they created life—humans, born from their desire for control.

At first, humans worshiped their creators with devotion, pledging loyalty to one deity, then betraying the next. They defiled the divine in their thirst for more, striking down gods one by one. Until, at last, only humans remained, reigning over the world they had once been given. The gods, once mighty, were destroyed by the very hands that they had shaped.

The lesson was clear for the mortals: gods could not be trusted.

You grew up in the small village, cradled by the sea, raised between the wind and the waves as if you were a child of nature itself. The first thing you learned was your origin, that you were descended from the gods—gods who were flawed and fallible. Your grandparents told you stories of your ancestors, how they fought with their lives for the right to live on this island, battling forces far beyond their comprehension.

Ages ago, a fierce god named Solace ruled over these waters. His rage, directed at both his siblings and their creations, churned the oceans into relentless fury. Your ancestors tried to cross the waters for months, many drowned and many got sacrificed to soothe the will of the deity that ruled in the waters. His anger blinded Solace, his envy and his feelings were like a sharp sword, pointed at himself. Your ancestors tricked him, like they did with so many other deities before. They sealed him into the ocean, robbing him of his necklace that he wore. And after they triumphed over him, the ocean came to rest. All thanks to the necklace that secretly holds Solace his powers.

A necklace that rested around your neck, a family piece that was given down as the generations passed. It was a sea shell pendant, reflecting in beautiful blue-silver hues as if the sea itself was placed upon you. And you wore it with pride.

Your mother gave it to you the day you joined the family tradition, stepping into the life of a fisher. It was a simple gift, passed down through generations, as much a symbol of your heritage as the sea itself. You learned to live in harmony with the waves, to respect the life beneath the surface, and to take only what was needed. Your family had always been blessed by the ocean, and so would you. It was honest work—give and take—where you not only harvested from the sea but also protected it, keeping it clean and honoring its depths.

"Keep calm," you murmured to yourself, the words a quiet mantra as you sat in your small boat. The sun was warm on your back as you focused on tying the loose strings of your net, the gentle rocking of the boat a familiar comfort.

Your mother had taught you to knit the nets in the old traditional way, every knot a connection to your ancestors. Your father, in turn, had shown you the art of fishing—how to hunt with respect, how to make the death of the fish swift and painless, and how to use every part of it in reverence for the life taken. A true fisher never wastes, for the sea gives generously but only to those who understand its balance.

The rhythm of your hands, the whisper of the wind, and the quiet lap of the waves against the boat—they all wove together like a song. You were part of something much larger than yourself, connected to the ancient currents of the sea, just as your family had always been.

You lifted your finished net, admiring the neat knots with a smile of quiet pride. A rush of happiness filled your chest as you hugged the net, feeling accomplished. You had honored the legacy of your ancestors, crafting the tool with care, just as they had done for generations. It was a simple but profound joy, knowing that you were connected to something so old and enduring.

With a steady breath, you prepared to cast the net into the water, hoping for a good catch to feed your family tonight. The gentle hum of the waves blended with your thoughts, and as the net unfurled, you missed the soft snap of a string breaking. But the sudden blue shimmer at the corner of your eye did not go unnoticed.

Your heart dropped as you realized it was your necklace—the one your mother had given you. Somehow, it had tangled itself in the net, and as you began to fish, it slipped from your neck effortlessly, tumbling into the water before you could react. You watched in stunned silence as the delicate jewelry disappeared beneath the surface, swallowed by the depths in an instant.

The sea, ever so calm just moments ago, now seemed impossibly vast and unyielding. That necklace was more than just a piece of jewelry; it was a part of you, a part of your family. And now, it was gone.

It sank slowly, the glimmering stone catching the last rays of sunlight as it shimmered just beneath the surface, suspended in the water like a delicate promise about to be broken. You watched, helpless, as it drifted deeper, the blue hue of the ocean swallowing it whole. Your heart pounded in your chest, a heavy sense of dread filling you as the necklace—your link to your family, your ancestors—vanished silently into the dark water below.

Your hands slackened, the net forgotten, slipping from your grasp into the boat. Without a second thought, instinct took over. Before you even realized what you were doing, you dove headfirst into the water, chasing the fading glint of silver.

The coldness of the ocean hit you like a shock, but you didn’t care. You kicked your legs, your arms pushing against the water, desperately reaching for the necklace as it continued its slow descent. The light above you grew dimmer as you sank deeper, the world around you a muffled echo of the surface. You could barely see now, the shimmering silver reduced to a distant gleam.

The water pressed in on you, chilling your skin and constricting your lungs. Panic began to claw at the edges of your mind, but you couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop. It was more than just an heirloom; it was the weight of your ancestors’ blessings, the legacy of your family, and it was slipping further and further away.

Your lungs began to burn, the pressure of the deep water pressing against your chest, but still, you reached out, fingers stretching into the darkness. The necklace was now just a faint blur, fading into the abyss. Desperation surged through you as your arms flailed in the icy depths.

The darkness was overwhelming, the cold water pressing in on all sides as you sank deeper, the faint shimmer of your necklace vanishing into the abyss. Your chest burned, lungs screaming for air, but your limbs were too heavy, too numb. The weight of the ocean dragged you down, and for a moment, you felt yourself surrendering to the pull, the necklace gone.

But then, something strange happened. A warmth surrounded you, gentle and reassuring, cutting through the icy water. A firm hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you upwards with a strength that felt both human and not. Yet, the darkness caught you and you passed out.

The first thing you felt was a pair of warm lips on yours, innocent, shy and yet somewhat dedicated. A wet hand was placed close to your throat. Then your head shot up as reality caught up to you, the water in your lungs creeping up your throat as you coughed it all out.

Coughing, disoriented, you blinked away the saltwater from your eyes, the world around you blurred. As your vision cleared, you found yourself being held by a man—no, something far more. His eyes, a deep and endless blue, locked onto yours. His presence was as overwhelming as the ocean itself, powerful and ancient, yet there was a softness in the way he held you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The stranger's arm was still wrapped around you, steadying you against the gentle rocking of the waves. His dark hair flowed around him, as though it were a part of the sea, and his skin, shimmering faintly in the light, seemed to glow with a quiet radiance. He wasn’t human, no, but he felt familiar.

“Breathe,” he whispered, his voice like the soft murmur of the tide, calming and steady.

You did, drawing in deep, shaky breaths, your heart still racing from the shock. “Who… who are you?” you stammered, your voice weak, barely above a whisper.

He gazed at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with something tender, something that made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. "Sebastian," he finally said, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "I live within these waters."

You nodded slowly, still dazed, as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. The cold of the water, the rush of drowning, and now… this.

Then, the realization hit you like a wave crashing over your head. “My necklace,” you breathed, panic swelling inside you again. You turned to look down into the water, but there was no shimmer, no sign of the silverish blue. “It’s gone… my necklace… I lost it.”

Sebastian’s eyes followed yours, and for a moment, a flicker of something like regret passed over his face. “The sea does not return everything,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of sorrow that seemed to echo from somewhere deep within him. "Not all that it takes can be given back."

Your heart sank, the weight of his words settling heavily inside you. The necklace—your family's necklace—was gone, lost forever to the depths. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you fought them back, not wanting to break down in front of this strange, beautiful man who had saved your life.

Sebastian’s gaze softened as he watched you, and before you could react, his hand reached up, brushing gently against your cheek, his touch feather-light. “I��m sorry,” he murmured, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice, the sadness that lingered in his words. “I wish I could have saved it for you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, though the ache in your chest was still raw. “It was my family…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It was important.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, simply letting his fingers linger against your skin, his presence steady, grounding. “Your family's memory doesn’t live in that necklace,” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “It lives in you. In everything you carry with you. That cannot be lost, not to the sea or anything else.”

His words, gentle and warm, wrapped around your heart like a soothing balm. You nodded again, still feeling the loss, but somehow, in his presence, the grief didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

For a moment, you simply floated there together, the waves lapping gently against your bodies, the sun casting a warm, golden light over the surface of the water. Sebastian’s hand stayed close to yours, his touch lingering, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you go.

“Why did you help me?” you asked after a long silence, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure if you wanted the answer.

Sebastian’s gaze flickered, his deep blue eyes searching yours. “Because,” he said softly, a hint of something more in his voice, something unspoken, “I couldn’t let you go.”

There was something in the way he looked at you, an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t understand it, the pull between you two, but it was undeniable. He had saved you—not just from drowning, but from something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name.

For now, you let the quiet peace of the ocean surround you, content in his presence, even as the necklace drifted farther into the depths, lost but somehow no longer the most important thing in your heart.

You finally took the time to admire his large form, he was as pretty as the mermaids from the childhood stories, as gentle looking as the ocean and his eyes, his eyes were like the ones of a god. You never saw someone like him before, but he mesmerized you.

He had placed you back into your boat, his hand lingered a bit longer on your cheek than anticipated and you could feel a mutual spark between you two.

[bl4ckorch1d]

SHACKLE // Buckthorne Woods

Male Naga OC / GN! Reader

1.5k Words || AO3

Slight horror themes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The forest was almost deadly silent, an oddity for such a usually lively place. One place once visited by many turned abandoned acres. Though it wasn’t a mystery, the nation needed a specific place for the things they deemed ‘unsightly’ for their aesthetic modernized cities. It seemed not even the birds wanted to stick around, not wanting to become prey to either fangs or claws. 

Buckthorne Woods, a name known by many and feared just the same. It only seemed like a few years ago until the humans decided ‘monsters’ can’t roam free on their own free will anymore. Almost seems like they got bored of fighting themselves and moved on to a different area of the food tree. While the woods were certainly one of the largest in the nation, it still was nowhere near big enough to hold every ‘monstrosity’ that roamed the land; their population almost became cut in half due to this. Not much of a chance for a bloom either, while the forest dwellers stay among their own types and don’t fight with each other over land, most refuse to bring a child into such a hate-filled world. Some kinds are becoming almost extinct; mostly the less humanoid they look, the lesser their number is. 

A waterfall was all that truly broke the silence in this specific part of the forest, a beautiful sight almost no one will ever know exists. All that accompanied other than the lush forest greens was a small opening to a cavern, only lit by the sun shining into it.

═.✾. ═══════

The water rippled against the paddles that ran through it, a canoe accompanied by a lone fisher. Setting your canoe under light shading, between the endless green that surrounded your figure. With the paddle set aside, you are in high hopes for fish above the average. With your dominant hand gripping your fishing pole, in a single swoop, you swing the line into the water. A small splash accompanied the bobber as it broke the surface tension of the water. The rays of the sun crack through the open spaces of shade, your skin embracing the slight heat. Eyes steady for any slight pull, you sit there tense. A slight tug on the pole, “Finally, a bite.” you hum to yourself. As you go to start reeling in, your body suddenly drags forward, slamming at the edge of the canoe almost tipping over. You try balancing yourself all while whatever was hooked squirmed around violently in the water, splashing and sending slight waves in all directions. Stubbornly, you began pulling back in panic and hurry, but all this action resulted in was a loud snap. Your back harshly hits the bottom of the canoe, as it sways from side to side. “Damn it”, you thought to yourself, “Should have brought spares.”, as you looked down at the snapped pole.

  At this point, your only goal was to find your way home after that experience. The river only went in one direction, and you swore you remembered which way you came from. So why did it feel so ominously wrong? Paddling through the water, you had expected to find the subtle tracks you left behind to get back out of the forest. The endless overgrown verdure shielded most of your view, but you could hear the heavy sound of water crashing against itself. You knew at that moment that you were completely lost. Your phone was rendered useless without an ounce of service, and the map you brought was drenched from the fishing disaster. The idea of making it back seemed like a pipe dream. It was late evening, and by the time you could even make it back to your fishing spot, the forest would be enveloped by complete darkness. Heading on towards the sound of the water, your eyes were met with an enchanting sight. A waterfall with almost crystal clear water in the pool below it, the scene looked straight out of a magazine. Looking past the constant pouring, there was a cavern hidden slightly beside the falls. Seemed to be your last resort for a place to reside. Paddling on, you dock your canoe as close to the cavern as you can without it getting completely flooded. Grabbing any salvageable supplies, you adventure forward to the mouth of the cavern. 

Nothing seems odd at first glance, a few spiders with their webs seem to be the only company you’ll have tonight. You drop your bag only a few feet into the cavern, far enough to be protected from the elements but close enough to still see outside. The cavern seemed to split into many tunnels further along and that just seemed like a horrible idea to adventure in your current state. Luckily your small blanket had survived the onslaught of water, a small comfort in your hellish predicament. If it wasn’t for the bed of rocks you laid on, you could almost trick yourself into thinking the waterfall was a sound machine when you shut your eyes.

◦ • • • • • • • ◦

Pains shot up your left leg, and you could feel the bile burning in the back of your throat as you lurched awake. Your eyes water as you lose the fight against your nausea. Choking as the last bit of bile makes it out of your mouth. Reaching for your backpack so you can fish out your thermostat to rid the aftertaste of vomit. Instead of the bag, your hand meets straw. You aren’t where you fell asleep. Panic rises in your system as you notice your left leg has swollen like a balloon and the leg beside it has a glistening silver shackle around it.  

You try to make sense of the rest of your surroundings. You seem to be at a dead end of one of the tunnels you spotted earlier. A small fire lights the area with the smoke billowing out into a tiny hole within the wall. If that hole led outside, it seems it is still night. You can’t spot your bag anywhere in the room, there wasn’t much of anything other than the small straw bed you laid upon and the small fire. Oh, and of course the shackle around your ankle that seemed to glisten as it taunted you. Yanking on it seemed to only deliver more pain to the opposite leg as you slightly moved. The chain connected to it was rooted deep into the cave wall, you’d need a jackhammer to even hope to remove it. 

Seems like you really should have listened to all the warning signs you saw at the entrance of the forest, instead of delusionally hoping no harm would have come to you. Now you lay prisoner to some mystery creature. Yelling seemed pointless as no other humans would be anywhere near the entrance of the cavern, and you couldn’t tell how deep you were into it. The noise would also likely attract whatever trapped you, but that almost seemed better than willowing alone in pain. So, you did as any white girl would do in a cheesy horror film and yelled out, “Is anybody there?” . . . A weird mix of relief and disappointment washed over you as silence was your only response. Not even the slightest rustle, only the crackling of embers. 

A sigh escaped your lips, almost masking the slight foreign noise just outside from where you could see. Nausea hits like a typhoon once you lay eyes on who you guessed to be your captor. A naga male, he could almost be mistaken for a model if it wasn’t for the tail that replaced where legs would be. “The rabbit finally awakens I see.” A silky deeper voice, one that overenunciated its s’ by quite a bit. His tan upper half shifted as he went to throw the sticks into the dying fire. Once he moved closer you could finally get a good look at him, his snake side resembling a ‘tiger snake’ with the black and yellow banding. A sharp jawline matched, with sharp golden brown eyes. Black hair tied messily into a bun. Could be worse, much better than some smelly goblin at least.  Your internal monologue was disrupted as he moved to you, getting closer to your swollen leg. “Suprised it hasn’t turned purple yet.” He let out a snide hiss as he poked it, his smile widening as you whimpered out in pain. “But don’t worry, it’s only been mere hours. It’ll swell much more by morning.” A prideful huff as those sharp eyes glanced down at you. He was obviously mocking you, and you could only grit your teeth in response. His hand swatting at you, “No need for that, I’m not going to let it get that bad dear.” The tone made him seem so condescending that you wouldn’t be surprised if he bit you again, right in the same puncture wounds. “Now, give me a second, don’t go anywhere!” . . . Maybe a goblin would have been better. His form quickly slithers out of the area leaving nothing but the sounds of embers once again.

═══════ .✾. ═

[lilac-snow-fox]

Haunted!AU Information

All the infos on the AU that could come in handy!

For your characters please add "haunted!au character" into the intro post & tag either this blog or my main so I can add them to the masterlist easier!

Bleakstone

->History: The town was founded around five hundred years ago by the Astor family next to a forest that, even back then, was considered eerie. Humans being humans, odd happenings didn't deter them and they build their town next to the river. Early on people went missing, or reported strange phenomenons. Soon enough people realized that the forest was "haunted". They deemed the beings living in the woods as monsters. However, the truth on who started attacking, killing or just kidnapping who has been lost to time.

->General locations: 

Town hall

Barns

Bakery

Barber

Bar

Hunter's guild

Townsquare

Various shops

Old mine

Humans

->General: No abilities! They're regular humans! They live in Bleakstone. 

->Residents: They live in town and have jobs. 

->Potential jobs your characters could have in town! As you all can guess, hunters are definitely important given that the monsters aka creatures exist!

Mayor

Doctor

Apothecary

Barber

Blacksmith

Butcher

Carpenter

Fisher

Hunter (Regular)

Hunter (Of monsters/creatures)

Merchant

And obviously a lot more!

-> Hunters: They hunt monsters and are in charge of keeping the town safe. Some do it for the money, some for revenge, some because they like the thrill, etc.

Creatures 

->There's a LOT of different creatures. You all get pretty much creative freedom! If you're unsure just hit me with an ask or dm me!

[whispering-clan]

What are the other clans names if you don't mind me asking?

Roaringclan, Singingclan, Weepingclan, Echoingclan, and Growlingclan!

Roaringclan's territory is half hilly meadows/moors and half oak & birch forests. Their dens are dug out abandoned fox dens.

Singingclan's territory is bordered by a river which has an off shoot that goes through their territory. They r the fishers and swimmers. The rest of their territory is forest.

Weepingclan is also bordered by the river but their territory is more marshy, their camp is surrounded by willow trees.

Echoingclan lives in caves by the ocean, their territory is made up of caves, the beach and oceanic habitats.

Annd Growlingclan lives further down the mountain in a rocky terrain that also reaches the ocean edge, though most of their land that touches the ocean are cliffs.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Fisher King

From time to time a visitor would ask how he came to be known as the Fisher King, and he would tell them a story.

There were once three brothers. That was how such stories often start, and the Fisher King's was no exception. Three heirs, each covetous of the throne. They were triplets, and each felt their birthright was to rule, rather than be set aside as younger sons were sometimes wont to be.

Their ailing mother, the Patchwork Queen, was alive to their jostling, and agreed for her realm to be divided into thirds, in the hope that such a measure might sate each of their appetites. A map was made, and divided into quadrants. The brothers then drew lots, and were able to claim their preferred sectors in turn.

The first brother, the largest and most martial of the three, chose the castle which was the seat of his family's power. The second, the eldest by seconds, chose the woodland that surrounded it. The third, bookish and retiring, chose the river that gave access to their gate, controlling their passage out into the wider realm.

There was some overlap, when a particularly tempting choice was left unclaimed, but broadly that passage was repeated. The first brother to choose laid claim over most of the major fortresses. The second monopolised the fertile fields, the woodland held for hunting. They dovetailed at every third selection: the first brother taking a curtilage of suitable land around a palace, the second securing a tower of his own from which to oversee his forests.

The third brother let them squabble over the choicest cuts. As they tightened their grip over a prosperous region, a strategic township, he focused on the borders in-between. The creeks which delineated their villages. The brooks which fed their thirsting fields. He claimed the foothills from which springs arose, the empty valleys through which hostile rapids ran.

He did not advertise his intentions - commenting only on the beauty of a region, his professed love for wildlife, a rare species of kingfisher which he hoped to one day sight - but nor did he have to hide them well. His brothers were well occupied with their own struggle, ordering their selections to best pre-empt the other, ranking the more obvious targets in their minds. They dismissed him as a distracted academic - focused on irrelevant aesthetic virtues, unable to play the game strategically - and were only grateful when he stayed out of their way.

When the Patchwork Queen passed, there was an early period of peace. The brothers shared their possessions: allowing passage through a field in exchange for its protection, use of a fortress to store the harvest in exchange for a commensurate share. There was trading, to a degree, and harmony across the realm.

But tensions simmered over time. An unfair bargain, forced by one side's desperation. A deal not kept, with excuses which failed to convince. Each brother had something the other needed, but their distribution was far from equal. Their power waxed and waned with the seasons, and each imbalance led to perceived abuses: scores which were settled the next time that the tables turned. As ever with such things, they were always paid back with interest. The escalation only grew, and it was hard to see it ever coming down.

It was then that the third brother tightened his noose. Having monopolised the waters of the realm, he had existed thus far in peace: allowing the currents to flow as freely as they always had, and living off the little land he owned. But when his brothers were divided, their weaknesses exposed, he finally made his play: threatening to dam each watercourse at source, and leave their worlds to wither down the line.

"I can survive on the fish that I catch," he proclaimed. "But your men can't subsist on grain or stone alone. Your fields need water. Your people need water. Pay me a tithe, and I will make sure it comes. Swear me allegiance, and I will quench all of your deadly thirst."

"You did that?" the visitors would ask. "Such a way to consolidate your power. Ruthless, perhaps, but also wise. I see now why they call you the Fisher King. You showed great patience, as an angler watching over his pool; letting your brothers focus on the bait, as all the while you tightened your net."

"No," he would have to tell them. "What my brother did was wrong, as well as foolhardy. We had no choice but to kill him."

"Your brother? Then you-"

"I had the armies of the realm, loyal to me. When it came to war, as he insisted with the laying of this gauntlet, only one of us was going to emerge victorious. He might have had the rivers, and our brother might have had the fields, but I had the strength to take what wasn't mine. That's the lesson, here, if you insist in learning one. Wisdom and cunning are all very well, but they are nothing compared to power. You cannot play the game with nothing in your hand."

"But they call you the Fisher King?"

At this, their host would nod. "A fisherman is patient, yes, but there's no room for wisdom in his strike. He is far from a devious predator. He simply arms himself, with weaponry more lethal than his prey, and waits for them to swim into his grasp - or worse, to seek to attack him. He does nothing, except be stronger than they are - his hook far sharper than their teeth, his arms more muscular than fins. My brother was a trout, thinking that he could snatch my bait away from me - but didn't count upon my steel. So now I fish in his lakes, still searching for the peace that he once took from me. Now I rule - but only because the halfwit chose to bite me first."

[beljar]

Franz Kafka's Letters to Milena

[April 1920]

Meran-­Untermais, Pension Ottoburg

Dear Frau Milena

The rain which has been going on for two days and one night has just now stopped, of course probably only temporarily, but nonetheless an event worth celebrating, which I am doing by writing to you. Incidentally the rain itself was bearable; after all, it is a foreign country here, admittedly only slightly foreign, but it does the heart good.

I’m living quite well here, the mortal body could hardly stand more care, the balcony outside my room is sunk into a garden, overgrown and covered with blooming bushes (the vegetation here is strange; in weather cold enough to make the puddles freeze in Prague, blossoms are slowly unfolding before my balcony), moreover this garden receives full sun (or full cloud, as it has for al- most a week)—­lizards and birds, unlikely couples, come visit me: I would very much like to share Meran with you, recently you wrote about not being able to breathe, that image and its meaning are very close to one another and here both would find a little relief.

With cordial greetings.

[Prague, July 16, 1920]

I wanted to excel in your eyes, show my strength of will, wait before writing you, first finish a document, but the room is empty, no one is minding me-it’s as if someone said: leave him alone, can’t you see how engrossed he is in his own affairs, it’s as if he had a fist in his mouth. So I only wrote half a page and am once again with you, lying on this letter like I lay next to you back then in the forest.

There was no letter today, but I’m not afraid, Milena, please don’t misunderstand me; I’m never afraid about you, even if it sometimes seems that way and it often does-it’s simply a weakness, a mood of the heart, which knows exactly why it’s beating nevertheless. Giants have their weaknesses as well; I believe even Hercules fainted once. With my teeth clenched, however, and with your eyes before me I can endure anything: distance, anxiety, worry, letterlessness.

[Meran, June 4, 1920]

Friday

To begin with, Milena: What’s the apartment you wrote from on Sunday like? Full of space and empty? Are you all b yourself? Day and night? In any case it must be sad to sit there alone on a beautiful Sunday afternoon opposite a ‘stranger’ whose face is nothing but ‘stationery which has been written on.’ I am so much better off! Although my own room is small, the true Milena is here, the one who ran away from you on Sunday, and believe me being with her is wonderful.

You complain about uselessness. It was different on other days and it will be different. The one sentence (on what occasion was it uttered?) shocks you, and yet it really is so clear and has already been spoken or thought with this meaning countless times. A man plagued by his own devils takes.

Franz Kafka, from Letters to Milena, 1920 // Romantic Letters II by Lisa Audit // River Rock Separation by Joshua Schicker // Woman's Letter by Harrison Fisher // Woman Reading by an Open Window, 1888 by Amaldus Nielsen // Reflective Distance by Tom Reeves // Personal Archives of Correspondence, 1897-1908, 1912-21 (Pen and Ink on Paper, B/W Photo) by Enrico Caruso

Van Gogh's Letters

[monosminecraftmania]

Color!au [hermitcraft fantasy au]

so i got two notes on the previous post so here i go talking about this

(yes this is going out like a month late but shh i had stuff ;a;)

here's a full roster of everyone and everything. Hopefully this will turn into motivation for me to write but yeah. until then here have this

again, if anyone is interested in seeing close ups/detailed drawings of anyone just send me an ask and i will gladly draw them. pls im desperate

if we get 3 notes i'll. share pictures of the kingdoms.

(long long post. read at your own risk >:3)

Going Alphabetically

Bdubs - Astronomer of Flax - Lives at the top of the castle - Comically small. No don't ask it's a sore subject - Made himself a glittering cloak of "stardust"

Beef - Resident of Varie - Lives on the outskirts of the kingdom - Travels only for paints or supplies - Good friend of Etho's

Bigb - Cerule resident - Has a cloud frog as a familiar - All it does is make his shoulder slightly moist - Runs a cookie shop

Cleo - Naga, Resident of Uaine - Graveyard guardian - Made herself arms of enchanted scraps the dead leave behind - Her human disguise is a gigantic ballroom dress.

Cub - Dungeon engineer of Mauve - Will never share the recipe for totems of undying - Creates labyrinths and puzzle rooms with a small chance of death - Sources most materials from Scar

Doc - Cursed Archeologist of Uaine - Pissed off a moss spirit so now his skin's green - Can't breathe good - Cut off his own arm and made a new magic one

Etho - Crown Prince of Varie - Half fox, but vertically - Has a heavy limp so people speculate he carries old battle wounds - Very bad at hiding the fox bits.

False - Royal Knight of Amara - Gilded Eagle Hybrid. Eagle wings and colors but the feathers appear to be shimmering like metal - Kingdom is usually very calm so she spends most of her time hanging out with Stress and fishing - Kicks ass when she has to.

Fwhip - Fisher in Ochre - Gem's business partner and the less violent one of the two - Deals more in accounting than actual fish - Fixes boats on the side

Gem - Fishwife in Ochre - Not actually married. Married to THE GRIND. - Runs a fishing boat and market by the widest bend of the river - Can and will use this trident.

Grian - Geologist in Claret - That's some funny lookin floating rocks - Owns a mansion that's shared with several other people of science - Named one of the rocks Brian. Pronounced like Grian.

Hypno - Beekeeper in Flax - Has a little bee farm that he sells honey and candles out of - Has a little magic and mostly uses it to make his flowers bloom - Honestly just happy to be here :3

Impulse - Service Demon in Flax - Resident fiekind (trickster demon). Does favors for gold or food - Invented the farming plow for a request once - Will absolutely abuse vague requests and play as many tricks as possible

Iskall - Magic Blacksmith of Uaine - Makes magic weapons of all kinds, mostly swords - Has golems to help him with his work, mostly just handling hot metal - Charisma + 20. He will flirt with anything that breathes.

Jevin - Slime Amalgam - Hides in the topmost tower of Azure's castle. - Stole pieces of gargoyles to camouflage and has been collecting feathers for wings - Just a silly little guy, living his best life.

Jimmy - Whistler - Guardian of the Wishing Cave - A great guy until you realize he's evangelizing for a cult - Hasn't touched grass in years

Joe - Magic researcher in Viridian - Puts random mushrooms in his mouth - Purely curious and gets a pass from most forest spirits - Looking into the forces of death to write a funny book

Joel - Strength Bryd (forest spirit) in Uaine - In the common tongue it's pronounced Ogre - Covered in tattoos that may or may not be his past victims - Fell in love with a fish. How did it end up like this.

Jono - Local Bard of Amara - Half Dog musician who's found a nice spot in Amara to settle down - Shirts are for losers - Can beatbox amazingly well with sharp teeth.

Keralis - Holy Water Spirit - Currently napping in the big ball chained to the temple roof - Granted Xb his wish to safely walk on land - Kind to a fault

Lizzie - Resident of Amara - Half fish hybrid - Washed up in the marshes of Uaine after a storm once and rescued by a handsome ogre. - Has an army of cod.

Martyn - Servant of Claret - A Watcher - Ren's shadow - Really needs a hug

Mumbo - Wizard of Claret - Subject of all of the bad luck - Collects scriptures and studies the magic of his kingdom - Also hosts a great magic show for kids

Pearl - Royal Architect/Librarian of Azure - Started as a stable girl who threw a tomato at the design for the royal library. And instead of being arrested, she was hired to redesign it. - In charge of the upside down library - Her dragon is named Bikkie.

Ren - Crown Prince of Claret - Half dog and proud of it. - Twins with Jono who moved away to the neighboring kingdom - Curious to a fault

Sausage - Mauve Resident - Construction worker for the many dungeons and attractions - Works well with wood in the morning - Way too enthusiastic

Scar - Travelling Merchant - Sells all the wares! Even wares that don't exist! - Yes the cane is magic - Makes an annual trip across the country to Mauve

Scott - Azure Merchant - Collects fashion articles from all over the country - Runs a ferry business on the side - Might know something.

Skizz - Resident of Cerule - Chosen by a phim and gifted a pair of angel wings and a halo - Encourages body positivity! Because love yourself you jerks - Trusts blindly and with open arms.

Stress - Goat/Beast hybrid in Amara - Retractable fluff for an instant winter coat! - The hooves are more like paws, but she's got incredible balance - Runs a tea shop with odd but tasty blends.

Tango - Fire spirit - Holy spirit of fire who's honestly just confused why he's so popular - Kidnapped by Scar and escaped to Gem all within a week - Hides in Gem's fireplace

TFC - Blacksmith of Varie - Specializes in actual tools, not weapons - Has a side business of stone sculptures. Buy one get two small ones free - Has a familiar, but no one knows what it is

Wels - MC - Surname revoked. Formal title "Wels, Knight of the Realm" - Banished from his home and travelling to a faraway land - His horse is named Worse, but pronounced like 'horse'

XB - Resident of Azure - Book collector and moved out of Amara to pursue his love of books - Got a blessing from a water spirit so he doesn't suffocate - Learned flight magic and swims through the air

Xisuma - Vagabond - Originally from Mauve. Travels the lands at every opportunity - No one has ever seen his face - Incredibly helpful travel guide

Zedaph - Royal Engineer/Alchemist of Mauve - May have invented cocaine. And gunpowder - Designs elaborate gauntlets for the bold to test their strength - Decided two extra arms were a good idea

[fatehbaz]

Paul Van Damme and Fortuna Vargas Mejía met 28 years ago in Puerto Villarroel, a village in the Bolivian department of Cochabamba. Van Damme was a Belgian marine biologist who found in the lagoons of the Bolivian Amazon “the closest thing to a sea.” Vargas was a native of Cochabamba who had worked as a navigator for 12 years before becoming a fisherman, so he knew well the Amazonian rivers and lagoons [...].

At that time — the 1990s — commercial fishing had just begun to boom in Puerto Villarroel, a municipality located on the banks of the Ichilo River in the Mamoré Basin [...] of the Bolivian Amazon. [...] Until then, the area and its forests had been well preserved and was home to a mainly Indigenous population. People from the Moxo and Yuqui Indigenous groups lived in communities along the banks of the river [...]. Little by little, people from other parts of Bolivia started to move to the urban center of Puerto Villarroel and its outskirts, leading to it eventually becoming the main and largest commercial port connecting western and eastern Bolivia. [...]

These investigations eventually led to the study of the bufeo, or river dolphin (Inia boliviensis), a species endemic to the Madera River Basin, the largest population of which is found in Bolivia. As a predator of small- and medium-sized migratory fish, the river dolphin’s presence is viewed as an indicator of aquatic and riparian habitat health. Put another way: It is very sensitive to any changes in the ecosystem [...].

---

In murky waters such as those of the Ichilo River, the dolphin was often seen shimmying to the rhythm of the waves and then disappearing, and it was a mystery as to where it would rear its head again. Sometimes, when the observation boat passed through warmer and clearer waters, small groups of 4-5 dolphins would appear in groups [...]. Last year, nature photographer Alejandro de los Ríos captured a pair of dolphins with an anaconda in their mouths. It is not known if they were playing with it or about to devour it, but the image was featured in news outlets around the world [...].

Until 2006, I. boliviensis was thought to be a subspecies of the Amazonian river dolphin, Inia geoffrensis, but [...] it was identified as an independent species. This differentiation, however, is still in the process of being recognized internationally. [...]. That is why, in the Bolivian Red Book of Vertebrates, it is considered a Vulnerable species, while for the International Union for Conservation of Nature it is listed as Endangered. [...]  Far from the debate, experts in conservation, biology and ecology have reacted with astonishment to the findings about Bolivia’s only fully aquatic mammal. Details about these aquatic mammals include [...] they behave differently whether they are in dark or clear waters; the mothers and the whole group take care of the offspring; and not only do they not want their offspring to go near the fishing nets, but they seem to reprimand them when they do so. Such findings are “new and fascinating” information, according to Lila Sainz, wildlife officer for WWF-Bolivia. [...]

---

[T]he presence of the dolphin has been reported in nine protected areas across Bolivia. [...] [T]he animals tend to migrate long distances [...]. “We have to take into account that I. boliviensis moves through rivers, but the other aquatic systems it uses, such as lagoons, meanders, and the surrounding habitat all are also important,” said Gabriel Tavera, a biologist [...]. “Furthermore, a number of these protected areas flood with water during the rainy season, meaning the bufeo can also swim through flooded forests,” he added.

---

Image, caption, and text by: Rocio Lloret. “Scientists and fishers team up to protect Bolivian river dolphin.” Mongabay. 12 April 2023. As translated by Matthew Rose. Story first published in Spanish at Monabay’s Latam site on 29 November 2022. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[nhadala-olgoi]

Namur Khaalga: Starlit Oasis Under the Celestial Dance

Within the steppes and plains of the Areas, nestled amidst the emerald embrace of the Khoyor Mod forest, where the Tengeriin Khaal carves its path, lies Namur Khaalga, the vibrant iloh of the Olgoi tribe. Here, under the watchful gaze of the celestial dance between Nhaama, the Dusk Mother, and Azim, the Dawn Father, life thrives in harmony with the whispering secrets carried by the wind, the ever-flowing river, and the watchful spirits of the ancient forest.

Heart of the Iloh: Standing proudly at the center of Namur Khaalga is Chogo Baatar, the magnificent yurt of Nhadala, the tribe's newest udgan. Crafted from the finest timbers harvested from the Khoyor Mod, the yurt is adorned with vibrant tapestries depicting constellations and mythical river creatures. Lanterns fashioned from polished river stones and filled with bioluminescent moss illuminate the yurt's interior, casting an ethereal glow that reflects the starry expanse above. Wind chimes fashioned from shells and polished reeds dangle from the rafters, their tinkling serenade a harmonious counterpoint to the gentle murmur of the Tengeriin Khaal that flows nearby.

Tengriin Tug: A short distance from Chogo Baatar stands the Namur Nom, the imposing yurt of Möngön, the khan of the Olgoi. Larger and sturdier than the other yurts, the Namur Nom is a symbol of Möngön's strength and leadership. Its walls are adorned with the hides of slain beasts, testaments to Möngön's prowess as a hunter and protector. Within, the yurt is furnished with comfortable furs and trophies of past victories, reflecting the Khan's role as the tribe's war chief and guardian.

Trials of Tengeriin Khaal: A series of arduous tests designed to assess an Olgoi's courage, skill, and connection to the spirits, the Trials of Tengeriin Khaal culminate at a sacred spot within Namur Khaalga – the Sidur Khishig. This still pond nestled at the edge of the Khoyor Mod reflects the celestial dance above like a polished mirror. But for the Olgoi, the Sidur Khishig holds a deeper significance. It is believed to be a nexus point where the whispers of Nhaama and Azim converge, carried on the wind and the flow of the Tengeriin Khaal. Those who successfully complete the Trials of Tengeriin Khaal journey to the Sidur Khishig, their spirits tested and refined. Here, Nhadala, the Udgan, awaits them, interpreting the messages carried on the water's surface and the constellations reflected above, offering guidance and marking their transformation.

Life in Namur Khaalga: The Olgoi of Namur Khaalga live a life deeply connected to the rhythms of the Tengeriin Khaal and the celestial dance. Skilled hunters, fishers, and artisans, they revere the river as their lifeblood and the Khoyor Mod forest as a living entity. Hunters venture into the forest to bring back game, while fishers cast their nets in the Tengeriin Khaal's bountiful waters. Artisans craft beautiful jewelry and tools from polished river stones and the sturdy wood of the Khoyor Mod. Every aspect of life in Namur Khaalga revolves around a deep respect for nature and a harmonious coexistence with the river, the land, and the celestial bodies that watch over them.

Whispers of the Khoyor Mod: The Khoyor Mod, a vast expanse of towering pines and tangled undergrowth, lies beyond the outskirts of Namur Khaalga. The Olgoi revere this ancient forest as a living entity, its roots reaching deep into the earth, its branches brushing against the celestial tapestry. Sunlight filters through the dense canopy, dappling the forest floor in a mosaic of light and shadow. The air is thick with the scent of pine needles, damp earth, and the musky perfume of wildflowers. Every rustle of leaves, every gurgle of a hidden spring, is believed to be a whisper from the forest itself, carrying tales of forgotten times and the secrets of the land. The Olgoi tread carefully within the Khoyor Mod, venturing in only when necessary, for they believe the forest holds both benevolent spirits, protectors of the natural world, and malevolent forces that lurk in the shadows.

Trials of the Tengeriin Khaal: A Rite of Passage

Among the Olgoi of Namur Khaalga, a young Xaela's transition to adulthood is marked by a perilous journey - the Trials of the Tengeriin Khaal. As the celestial dance reaches its zenith on the longest day of summer, a select group of youths, trained in the art of survival and attuned to the whispers of the wind, embark on a canoe expedition down the Tengeriin Khaal. Their destination: the sacred Sidur Khishig (Starlit Whisper), a hidden pool nestled deep within the heart of the Khoyor Mod forest, where the river finally meets its tranquil end.

The journey down the Tengeriin Khaal is fraught with challenges. Treacherous whirlpools lurk beneath the river's seemingly serene surface, while jagged rocks and fallen trees threaten to splinter their canoes. The Olgoi believe these obstacles represent the hardships of life, and navigating them successfully is a test of a young Xaela's courage, resourcefulness, and respect for the river's power.

Along the way, the youths must overcome not only physical dangers but also the whispers of doubt and fear that may arise within them. They rely on the guidance of a seasoned mentor, a Xaela elder known as the Tengeriin Uriin. The Uriin, skilled in reading the currents and celestial signs, steers them clear of perilous stretches and interprets the whispers carried on the wind, helping them understand the lessons hidden within the river's challenges.

As they approach the treacherous stretch known as the Cholmog Nom, the river narrows dramatically, its waters churning violently between towering cliffs. Legends whisper of mythical creatures guarding this passage, testing the hearts of those who dare to enter. Here, the youths must dig deep within themselves, drawing upon the lessons learned throughout their journey and the unwavering support of their companions. Successfully navigating the Cholmog Nom signifies their courage, resilience, and their readiness to face the challenges of adulthood.

Emerging from the narrows, the landscape changes dramatically. The Tengeriin Khaal carves a path through a verdant valley, sunlight dappling the forest floor and birdsong filling the air. Finally, they reach the sacred Sidur Khishig, a pool of still water reflecting the celestial dance above like a polished mirror. Here, the youths partake in a sacred ritual, offering thanks to Nhaama and Azim for their guidance and blessings and place their talisman in the altar. If their journey is deemed worthy, the drum will sound and signal that they are now considered an adult within the Olgoi. Powerful wards surround the altar and drum, placed and reinforced by the udgan over the years, making it so those who are not honorable or brave in their undertaking will not hear the best of the drum. They also commune with the spirits of their ancestors who are believed to reside within the pool's depths. This communion is a symbolic passing of the torch, where the wisdom and guidance of the past generations imbue the youths with the strength they need to carry the Olgoi tribe forward.

Upon their return to Namur Khaalga, the youths are no longer considered children but fledgling adults. They are welcomed back with joyous celebrations, their successful completion of the Trials of the Tengeriin Khaal marking their official entry into Olgoi society. They carry the lessons learned on the river throughout their lives, forever bound by the shared experience and the deep respect for the Tengeriin Khaal, the celestial dance, and the spirits that watch over their fate.

Echoes of the Ancestors: Unveiling the Secrets of Sidur Khishig

The Trials of the Tengeriin Khaal culminate at the sacred Sidur Khishig, a place steeped in mystery and legend. As the young Xaela emerge from the Cholmog Nom, a profound sense of awe washes over them. The air here hums with a subtle energy, the verdant foliage seeming to shimmer with an otherworldly light.

Reaching the pool's edge, they find the Tengeriin Uriin already waiting, his weathered face etched with an air of anticipation. He instructs them to extinguish their torches and sit in silent meditation, their gazes fixed upon the starlit reflection on the water's surface. As darkness descends, the celestial dance unfolds above in breathtaking clarity. The Milky Way shimmers like a celestial river, mirroring the Tengeriin Khaal below.

Suddenly, a ripple disrupts the pool's glassy surface. A spectral image begins to take form, an ethereal visage of an Olgoi elder adorned with intricate tattoos and clad in ancient ceremonial garb. This is the spirit of a long-forgotten ancestor, awakened by the arrival of the youths who have successfully completed the Trials.

The ancestor speaks in a voice that resonates within the minds of the young Xaela, not through words, but through emotions and visions. He shares forgotten tales of the tribe's origins, their connection to the land and the celestial beings, and the challenges they once faced. He speaks of a time when the veil between the material world and the spirit world was thinner, and the Olgoi walked in harmony with both.

The visions depict bygone eras: a time of great prosperity when the Tengeriin Khaal flowed abundantly, nourishing the land and its people; a period of strife when the river dwindled, and the Olgoi faced hardship; and glimpses of forgotten rituals performed to appease the celestial spirits and ensure the river's continued flow.

As dawn approaches, the spectral image fades, leaving the young Xaela with a profound sense of connection to their ancestors and a deeper understanding of their place within the tribe's legacy. The Tengeriin Uriin explains that the lessons learned from the ancestor's spirit are a crucial part of their transformation. They must carry these stories forward, ensuring the tribe remembers its history and the importance of maintaining a harmonious relationship with the Tengeriin Khaal and the spirits that reside within.

The return journey to Namur Khaalga is filled with a newfound sense of purpose. The young Xaela no longer see the river merely as a waterway, but as a lifeblood, a link to their past, and a testament to the enduring spirit of the Olgoi people. They carry within them the responsibility to safeguard these newfound truths and ensure their tribe thrives for generations to come.

The secrets of Sidur Khishig, however, are not fully revealed to every group of youths. On rare occasions, a particularly receptive individual may experience a more profound connection with the ancestral spirit. These chosen ones may receive cryptic messages or visions that hold the key to unlocking a deeper understanding of the Olgoi's destiny or perhaps even a forgotten power long dormant within the tribe. These are the ones who may one day become the Tengeriin Uriin themselves, the keepers of tradition and the guides for future generations on their Trials of the Tengeriin Khaal.

Rhythms of the Iloh: Daily Life in Namur Khaalga

Life in Namur Khaalga follows the ebb and flow of the Tengeriin Khaal and the celestial dance above. Each day is woven with traditions and practices that connect the Olgoi to their ancestors, the spirits of the land, and the ever-watchful Nhaama and Azim.

Dawn's Embrace: As the first rays of sunlight peek over the Khoyor Mod, a collective hum of activity rises from the iloh. The Xaela greet the day with a series of stretches and deep breaths, mimicking the movements of Nhaama awakening from her slumber. This ritual, known as the Nhaama's Stretch, is believed to imbue them with the Dusk Mother's grace and resilience as they prepare for the day's tasks.

Hunters and Gatherers: With the rising sun, designated hunters venture into the Khoyor Mod. Tracking deer, elk, and boar, they navigate the ancient forest with respect, offering silent prayers to the spirits for a successful hunt. Skilled fishers cast their nets in the Tengeriin Khaal's bountiful waters, their catches providing sustenance for the tribe. Women gather herbs with medicinal properties and edible berries that grow wild along the riverbank. Every task is approached with focus and respect for the land's offerings.

Crafting and Creation: Afternoons are dedicated to honing traditional skills. Artisans transform hides and furs into warm garments, etch intricate designs on bone tools, and weave baskets from strong river reeds. The rhythmic hammering of metalsmiths echoes through the iloh as they craft weapons and tools. Younger Xaela learn these skills from their elders, ensuring the tribe's knowledge and traditions are passed down through generations.

Sharing and Storytelling: As dusk paints the sky in fiery hues, the Xaela gather around communal fires. Meals are a time for families and friends to share stories of the day's hunt, lessons learned, and playful anecdotes. Elders weave tales of the tribe's history, their voices carrying the weight of generations. These stories not only entertain but also serve as moral lessons and reminders of the importance of maintaining balance with nature and the spirits.

Night's Mantle: Under the watchful gaze of the celestial dance, the Xaela gather for a calming ritual known as the Azim's Vigil. Sitting in silent meditation, they reflect on the day's lessons and offer prayers to Azim, the Dawn Father, for guidance and protection. As starlight bathes the iloh, the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the gentle murmur of the Tengeriin Khaal lull the Xaela into a peaceful sleep.

Festivals and Celebrations: Throughout the year, the Olgoi mark various occasions with vibrant festivals. The most significant celebration coincides with the summer solstice, when the celestial dance reaches its peak. During this festival, known as the Nhaama's Ascent, the entire tribe gathers at the Sidur Khishig. Offerings are made to the ancestral spirits, and young Xaela who have successfully completed the Trials of the Tengeriin Khaal are formally welcomed into adulthood. Songs and dances fill the air, a joyous celebration of life, community, and the enduring spirit of the Olgoi people.

Life in Namur Khaalga may seem simple, yet it is rich with tradition, respect for nature, and a deep connection to the spirits and the celestial dance. Every aspect of the Xaela's daily routine reinforces their bond with the land and their place within the grand tapestry woven by Nhaama and Azim. They are the stewards of the Tengeriin Khaal, the inheritors of their ancestors' wisdom, and the guardians of a legacy that will continue to flow for generations to come.

A Tapestry of Colors: The Olgoi and the Symbolic Palette

The Olgoi of Namur Khaalga adorn themselves and their surroundings with a vibrant array of colors, each hue imbued with specific meanings that reflect their deep connection to the celestial dance, the Tengeriin Khaal, and the spirits of the Khoyor Mod. These colors are not merely aesthetics; they are a visual language that speaks of their traditions, values, and the very essence of their identity.

Everyday Earth Tones: For their daily wear, the Olgoi favor a palette of natural earth tones that blend seamlessly with the surrounding landscape. Soft browns, muted greens, and calming ochres dominate their clothing, reflecting their deep respect for the land that sustains them and their harmonious way of life. These colors signify practicality, a connection to the earth, and the enduring spirit of the community.

Nhaama's Twilight Fuchsia: This soft, captivating fuchsia embodies the enchanting mystery and boundless creativity of Nhaama, the Dusk Mother. It adorns the flowing scarves and feathered headpieces worn during evening rituals, symbolizing inspiration, the dreams that spark innovation, and the unseen forces that guide their paths under the starry night sky.

Azim's Sunrise Coral: A vibrant coral, mirroring the invigorating energy of the rising sun heralded by Azim, the Dawn Father. This color streaks across the sashes and ceremonial attire of young Xaela, representing enthusiasm, boundless curiosity, and the burning desire to explore the world around them.

Tengeriin Khaal's Sunlit Amber: A warm, sunlit amber, reminiscent of the sprawling golden plains that stretch beyond the foothills where the Tengeriin Khaal originates. It is the dominant color of herders' clothing and tools, signifying prosperity, the enduring spirit of the land, and the life-giving warmth that sustains all living things.

Chogo Lek's Raging Crimson: A fiery crimson, as intense as the churning rapids and the fury of lightning storms that occasionally grip the Cholmog Nom (Sky Wolf's Maw). It is worn sparingly, adorning the war paint and ceremonial garb of those who confront the river's most dangerous aspects, a symbol of the courage and respect required to navigate its untamed power.

Sidur Khishig's Pearlescent Ivory: A soft, pearlescent ivory, reminiscent of the first snowfall blanketing the mountains and the ethereal glow emanating from the sacred pool of Sidur Khishig. This color is reserved for spiritual leaders, scholars, and those who commune with the ancestors. It signifies purity, the timeless wisdom passed down through generations, and the connection to the spirit world that illuminates the path forward.

These core colors are often woven together in intricate patterns and designs that adorn clothing, tents, and even the yurt walls. Specific geometric shapes also hold meaning: interlocking triangles represent the strength found in community, flowing curves mimic the Tengeriin Khaal's gentle journey, and concentric circles symbolize the cyclical nature of life and the celestial dance.

An Olgoi's attire can reveal much about their station in life. Youths wear primarily clothing in natural earth tones, signifying their connection to the land and their potential to become future stewards. Hunters and fishers incorporate elements of raging crimson and earth tones, reflecting their respect for the river's power and the life it sustains. Scholars and scribes, on the other hand, display prominent sunrise coral accents, a symbol of their insatiable curiosity and dedication to the pursuit of knowledge. The spiritual leaders and scholars, cloaked in pearlescent ivory, stand out as beacons of wisdom and connection to the ancestral spirits.

The Olgoi understand that true beauty lies not just in the vibrancy of colors but in the stories they weave. Their attire and surroundings are a living tapestry, a visual representation of their beliefs, their history, and their profound connection to the world that surrounds them.

A Tapestry of Colors and Traditions: Unveiling the Olgoi of Namur Khaalga

The Olgoi of Namur Khaalga, unlike many other Xaela tribes, have chosen a more permanent existence, establishing a thriving settlement nestled within the embrace of the Namur Khaalga valley. While their nomadic roots are not forgotten, their lives revolve around their permanent home, a vibrant testament to their culture and traditions.

A City Steeped in Tradition:

Namur Khaalga: The Olgoi settlement is a marvel of communal living. Yurts, still symbolic of their adaptability and connection to the land, form the core of the city. However, these Yurts are sturdier, constructed with a stronger wooden framework and featuring permanent fixtures that cater to their long-term stay. Grander structures, built with sun-baked bricks and adorned with geometric patterns in earth tones, house essential communal spaces like workshops, storage facilities, and a central gathering hall.

The Heart of the City: The beating heart of Namur Khaalga is the central gathering hall. This impressive structure, adorned with vibrant tapestries depicting scenes from Olgoi mythology, serves as a place for social gatherings, cultural events, and spiritual ceremonies. Here, under the watchful gaze of the elders cloaked in pearlescent ivory, stories are told, songs are sung, and the rich tapestry of Olgoi traditions is kept alive.

Seasonal Celebrations and Rituals: While their nomadic lifestyle is a thing of the past, the Olgoi still hold seasonal celebrations that echo their ancestral connection to the land.

Tengeriin Naadam: Held annually under the summer solstice's full moon, the Tengeriin Naadam remains a vibrant display of athletic prowess and cultural pride. Horse races thunder across a designated course within the valley, archery competitions test the skills of young hunters, and feats of strength showcase the enduring spirit of the Olgoi. Garments adorned with sunrise coral and fiery crimson dominate this festive occasion, symbolizing boundless energy and competitive spirit.

Nhaama's Dreamweaving: During the winter solstice, the Olgoi gather for Nhaama's Dreamweaving ceremony within the central hall. Clad in twilight fuchsia robes, they participate in guided meditations. Dreams gleaned during this sacred ritual are believed to hold prophetic messages or spark creative inspiration for the coming year.

Chogo Lek's Fury: To appease the unpredictable river spirit, the Olgoi hold a yearly ceremony known as Chogo Lek's Fury. Shamans, cloaked in raging crimson, perform rituals at designated points along the Cholmog Nom, offering prayers and sacrifices to ensure the river's continued bounty.

Maintaining a Connection to the Land: Despite their settled ways, the Olgoi haven't forgotten their deep respect for the land. Here's how they maintain that connection:

Sustainable Practices: The Olgoi take great care to manage their resources sustainably. They practice crop rotation to maintain soil fertility, plant trees to combat erosion, and raise livestock responsibly to prevent overgrazing. This ensures the long-term health of the land that sustains them.

Seasonal Herding: While not strictly nomadic, the Olgoi still engage in seasonal herding practices. During the summer months, herds are driven to higher pastures in the surrounding mountains for grazing, mirroring their ancestral traditions. This allows the pastures near the settlement to recover and prevents overgrazing.

Hunting and Fishing: Hunting and fishing remain important aspects of Olgoi life, providing a vital source of food and materials. However, these practices are conducted with respect and moderation, ensuring the long-term sustainability of the wildlife populations.

The Olgoi of Namur Khaalga have successfully adapted their traditions to create a vibrant and enduring settlement. Their permanent home, steeped in symbolism and respect for the land, serves as a testament to their cultural richness and their enduring connection to the heart of the Namur Khaalga.

The Whispers of the Past: Unveiling the Olgoi Legacy

The Olgoi of Namur Khaalga, though rooted in their permanent settlement, hold a deep respect for their nomadic past. This reverence for their history extends beyond mere tradition, weaving itself into the very fabric of their society. Here's a glimpse into how the whispers of the past continue to shape the Olgoi of today: The Keepers of Lore:

The Ugsaa: Within the Olgoi society, a revered group known as the Ugsaa act as living repositories of tribal history and lore. These elders, often adorned in ceremonial robes incorporating muted earth tones and intricate geometric patterns, are the keepers of ancestral knowledge. They memorize and pass down stories of past heroes, pivotal battles, and the wisdom gleaned from generations of living in harmony with the land. During evenings around the central hearth, the Ugsaa regale younger generations with tales whispered by the wind, ensuring the Olgoi legacy endures.

The Tablets of Tenger: Etched onto weathered clay tablets are the "Tablets of Tenger," a collection of ancient symbols and pictographs. Deciphering these tablets is a closely guarded skill passed down through generations of Ugsaa. The tablets are believed to hold not only historical records but also cryptic messages and prophecies from the celestial spirits. Understanding these messages is seen as a way to maintain balance with the natural world and anticipate potential challenges.

Echoes of Nomadic Practices:

The Trials of the Tengeriin Khaal: This grueling challenge is the cornerstone of the Olgoi coming-of-age ritual. Young Xaela participants embark on a perilous journey that follows the winding path of the Tengeriin Khaal. Facing the river's unpredictable currents, navigating treacherous gorges, and demonstrating their respect for the water spirit are all crucial elements of this passage. Those who emerge victorious, marked by the physical and mental challenges, are presented with garments imbued with sunrise coral, signifying their official entry into adulthood and acceptance into the tribe's social fabric.

The Festival of the Wandering Moon: Held annually under the first full moon of spring, the Festival of the Wandering Moon celebrates the Olgoi's nomadic heritage. During this time, temporary yurts are erected outside the city walls, and stories of past migrations are exchanged around crackling fires. Traditional dances, inspired by the movements of animals and the rhythm of the seasons, are performed under the watchful gaze of the moon. This festival serves as a reminder of the Olgoi's adaptability and their deep connection to the vastness of the steppe.

The Spirit of Innovation: The Olgoi don't simply reminisce about the past; they draw inspiration from it. Their reverence for their nomadic ancestors fuels a spirit of innovation that permeates their society.

Adaptations for Sustainability: The Olgoi settlement incorporates elements of their nomadic dwellings into their permanent structures. Yurt designs inform the construction of sturdy, circular buildings that are energy-efficient and promote community living. Additionally, their knowledge of sustainable grazing practices gleaned from their past is applied to manage the surrounding pastures effectively.

Crafting Techniques: Olgoi artisans have honed their skills through generations, crafting tools, clothing, and ornaments using time-tested techniques passed down from their nomadic ancestors. These traditional methods, often incorporating natural materials and imbued with symbolic meaning, are a source of pride and a testament to their enduring connection to the land.

The Olgoi of Namur Khaalga demonstrate that progress and tradition needn't be mutually exclusive. By embracing their nomadic legacy and weaving it into the fabric of their settled life, they have created a vibrant and sustainable society that honors the past while looking confidently towards the future.

The Wandering Path: Olgoi Traders and the Long Journey to Reunion

The Olgoi, though settled in Namur Khaalga, haven't forgotten the ancient Xaela traditions of trade and travel. Every few years, a select group of young Xaela undertake the perilous journey from the comfort of their valley, across the sprawling steppes and treacherous forests of the Arras, through the unforgiving Wound, and finally to the bustling Azim Steppe, to participate in the grand trade fair known as Reunion. This journey, a rite of passage for aspiring Olgoi traders, is not merely a commercial endeavor; it's a physical and spiritual test that strengthens their connection to the land and their understanding of the wider Xaela culture. Preparation and Blessings:

Nhaama's Guidance: Weeks before departure, the chosen Xaela gather for a special ceremony under the guidance of the tribe's shamans. Clad in twilight fuchsia robes, they participate in guided meditations seeking Nhaama's blessings for a safe journey. The dreams gleaned during this ritual are believed to hold omens and insights that will guide them through the challenges ahead.

Provisions and Protection: The Olgoi ensure their young traders are well-equipped for the harsh realities of the journey. Specially designed packs, crafted from cured yak hide and adorned with protective symbols, are filled with dried meats, pemmican, and waterskins. Additionally, each Xaela receives a small charm carved from river jade, a symbol of Chogo Lek's protection against the unpredictable dangers of the elements and the creatures that roam the wilds.

The Trials of the Arras:

Vast Steppes and Dense Forests: The journey begins with a trek across the vast steppes of the Arras. Here, the wind whips across tall grasses, herds of wild horses thunder across the plains, and the occasional rocky outcrop breaks the monotony of the landscape. The young Xaela rely on their ancestral knowledge of tracking and foraging to find sustenance and navigate the open plains. However, the Arras isn't just endless grasslands. Dense forests, teeming with life and potential dangers, also dot the landscape. Here, the young Xaela must rely on their climbing skills, their ability to read animal signs, and their respect for the spirits of the wild to navigate the tangled undergrowth.

Facing the Nomadic Raiders: The Arras is also home to scattered Xaela tribes known for their fierce raiding traditions. The Olgoi traders must navigate these encounters with diplomacy and respect. Learning basic phrases of the other tribes' languages and offering small tokens of tribute, such as handcrafted Olgoi tools or trinkets, can help ensure safe passage.

The Wound: A Test of Resilience

A Scar Upon the Land: The Arras gives way to the Wound, a jagged scar upon the earth left behind by a cataclysmic event of the past. Here, the landscape becomes treacherous, with towering cliffs, deep ravines, and unpredictable weather patterns. The young Xaela must rely on their climbing skills, their knowledge of foraging for edible plants, and their unwavering determination to overcome the obstacles of this unforgiving terrain.

Echoes of the Past: Legends say the Wound is not just a physical scar but a gateway to the spirit world. Strange lights dance in the night sky, and the mournful howls of unseen creatures echo through the canyons. The Olgoi believe these are the whispers of past battles and forgotten heroes. Facing these otherworldly sights and sounds is a test of the young traders' courage and their ability to maintain focus on their mission.Reaching the Azim Steppe and the Bustle of Reunion:

A Steppe Ablaze with Activity: Finally, after weeks of hardship, the Olgoi traders emerge from the Wound and onto the vast expanse of the Azim Steppe. Here, a vibrant tapestry of Xaela cultures unfolds before them. Traders from all corners of the steppe gather for Reunion, a grand fair that buzzes with activity. Tents of vibrant colors line the dusty plains, merchants hawk their wares in a cacophony of languages, and displays of horsemanship and martial prowess fill the air.

Trade and Cultural Exchange: The Olgoi traders come bearing unique goods crafted in Namur Khaalga – woolen tapestries dyed with natural pigments, intricately carved figurines depicting Olgoi mythology, and tools forged from the finest local steel. Bargaining and negotiation are essential skills, but so is cultural exchange. The young Xaela learn about the lives and traditions of other Xaela tribes, forging new bonds and fostering a sense of unity amongst the scattered Xaela people.

The Return Journey: Sharing Knowledge and Growth

The return journey to Namur Khaalga is not merely a retracing of steps. It's a time for the young Olgoi traders to reflect on their experiences, integrate their newfound knowledge into the tribe's traditions, and share the stories and insights gleaned from their travels. Carrying the Weight of Reunion:

Treasures and Tales: Their packs, once filled with provisions, are now laden with the spoils of Reunion. These include not just exotic goods like spices, rare furs, and finely crafted weapons, but also knowledge and stories. They may carry scrolls filled with new hunting techniques gleaned from other tribes, or musical instruments learned during celebratory nights at the fair. Each item, each tale, serves as a tangible reminder of their journey and the vastness of the Xaela world.

Spiritual Relics: Some young Xaela may return with spiritual relics – blessed amulets from distant shamans, or ceremonial objects imbued with the power of other tribes' deities. These are treated with reverence, displayed in the Chogo Baatar (Celestial Steed) for Nhadala to examine and integrate their energies into Olgoi rituals.

Sharing the Burden and the Bounty:

Gatherings and Feasts: Upon reaching Namur Khaalga, the returning traders are greeted with cheers and a celebratory feast. They recount their trials and triumphs around crackling fires, sharing their experiences with the entire tribe. The elders listen intently, absorbing the knowledge and stories brought back from the wider world. This shared narrative strengthens the bonds within the tribe and ensures the lessons learned become a part of Olgoi history.

Integration of Skills and Knowledge: The skills honed during the journey and the knowledge gleaned at Reunion are put to use. New hunting techniques are tested and potentially adopted, while the young traders may hold workshops to teach others how to craft the exotic goods they acquired. This integration of knowledge ensures the tribe continues to evolve and adapt.

Transformations Recognized:

The Mark of Reunion: Nhadala, the Udgan, observes the returning traders with a keen eye. She may recognize a newfound wisdom in their gaze, a sharper awareness of the spirits, or a deeper understanding of the Xaela people. Those who have faced their challenges with courage and respect will be awarded a small, polished river stone etched with a symbol representing Nhaama's blessing. This mark signifies their successful completion of the Trials of the Wandering Path and their transformation into seasoned Olgoi traders.

Sharing the Mantle of Leadership: For those who display exceptional leadership during the journey, a different path may unfold. Nhadala and Khan Goro may identify them as potential future leaders, grooming them for roles within the tribe's hierarchy. These individuals may be tasked with leading future trading expeditions or even take on positions of responsibility within Namur Khaalga itself.

The journey to Reunion and back is a transformative experience for the young Olgoi traders. It tests their physical and mental fortitude, broadens their horizons, and strengthens their connection to the wider Xaela culture. Upon their return, they are not just seasoned traders, but storytellers, cultural ambassadors, and potential leaders, ensuring the continued growth and prosperity of the Olgoi tribe.

Adornment and Expression in the Emerald Embrace: A Tapestry of Scales and Starlight

The Xaela of the Olgoi tribe, denizens of this mystical realm, are a people sculpted by both the harsh beauty of the steppe and the verdant embrace of the forest. While they share the dark blue or black scales, horns, and tails of all Xaela, the Olgoi have developed a unique aesthetic language to express themselves, transforming the bounty of their land into a tapestry of scales and starlight. Horns: Beacons of Celestial Dreams

Piercings of Starlight: A common sight among the Olgoi are horns adorned with piercings that resemble scattered constellations. Skilled artisans use obsidian shards or sharpened bone to create delicate holes near the base or along the length of the horn. Through these piercings, they thread feathers – vibrant crimson for the hunter's prowess, snowy white for a connection to the winter spirits – or polished gemstones that shimmer like captured starlight, echoing the celestial dance that unfolds above the Khoyor Mod canopy. Each gem, meticulously chosen, holds a specific meaning. A deep amethyst might signify wisdom gleaned from the elders, while a fiery citrine could represent the untamed spirit of the steppe itself.

Wrappings of Whispering Leaves: The whispers of the Khoyor Mod forest and the tales of resilience carried on the steppe winds find voice in the elaborate wrappings adorning the Olgoi's horns. Crafted from the cured hides of hunted beasts or dyed sinew in hues echoing the dappled sunlight filtering through the forest canopy, these wrappings are more than mere decoration. They are testaments to shared experiences. A band of midnight-blue leather adorned with a single, emerald-green feather might signify participation in a successful hunt deep within the woods, while a vibrant tapestry of woven sinew, its colors mirroring the bioluminescent flora of the forest floor, could represent a shaman's deep communion with the spirits that dwell within the ancient trees.

Carvings that Echo Eternity: The most revered horn adornments are the intricate carvings etched by the tribe's most skilled artisans. These permanent markings are a Xaela's narrative etched in bone. They depict constellations that guide the tribe through the starlit expanse, symbols of revered spirits woven into the fabric of Olgoi mythology, or even scenes from battles fought and victories won within the emerald embrace of the forest. Each line and curve whispers of a life well-lived, a testament to the enduring spirit of the Olgoi.

A Symphony of Nature: Woven into Identity The bounty of Namur Khaalga, where the emerald embrace of the forest meets the windswept steppe, is not just a challenge for the Olgoi, but a wellspring of creative expression. Here's how they utilize the land's gifts:

Clothing: A Tapestry of Form and Function: Necessity is the mother of invention for the Olgoi. Their clothing is a testament to both practicality and a subtle display of identity. The harsh steppe winters demand warmth, so thick hides and furs, spoils from successful hunts, are fashioned into sturdy coats and boots. Leather, a versatile material, finds use in crafting armor that deflects biting winds and protects from predators. But practicality doesn't preclude artistry. Skilled Olgoi women use dyed sinew to embroider intricate patterns on clothing, or weave feathers, a gift from the avian spirits, into the fabric itself. These embellishments become a silent language, speaking of social status, membership in a revered hunting party, or a personal connection to a particular spirit of the forest or the steppe.

Jewelry: Where Beauty Meets Belief: The verdant embrace of the Khoyor Mod forest and the windswept plains of the Namur Khaalga hold a trove of natural beauty. The Olgoi, with their keen eyes and nimble hands, transform this beauty into exquisite jewelry. Polished river stones found along the icy rivers of the steppe are meticulously carved into pendants and beads. Bone, a symbol of enduring strength, is shaped into intricate bracelets and anklets. These pieces are often adorned with further embellishments – carvings depicting revered celestial creatures or symbols that hold personal significance, or even small pouches filled with fragrant herbs believed to ward off evil spirits. Each piece of jewelry becomes a talisman, a whispered prayer for protection and good fortune, a bridge between the beauty of the natural world and the mysteries of the spirit realm.

Body Art: A Fleeting Dance with the Spirits: For the Olgoi, the body itself becomes a canvas for temporary self-expression, particularly for warriors and shamans. On the eve of battle or during sacred rituals held within the whispering embrace of the Khoyor Mod, natural pigments are used to create elaborate designs on the face and body. These pigments can include crushed berries offering a spectrum of reds, ochre for a warm, earthy tone, and charcoal for a stark contrast. However, the verdant embrace of the forest offers its own unique palette. Crushed leaves and bioluminescent flora found deep within the Khoyor Mod can be used to create swirling patterns of emerald and jade, a connection to the forest spirits. A warrior might paint stripes of vibrant green to represent courage and connection to the land, or a shaman might adorn themselves with intricate geometric shapes that channel the power of the ancient trees. With the rising sun, these paintings fade, leaving behind only the memory of the ritual or the echoes of the battle cry.

The Öröndün Bayarlalt: A Binding of Two Souls Love, like the wind that carves the steppe and whispers through the ancient trees, weaves its own path through the lives of the Olgoi. Courtship rituals are subtle affairs, marked by shared glances, whispered conversations beneath the celestial dance, and the gifting of handcrafted trinkets imbued with personal meaning. The Olgoi embrace all forms of love, and the Öröndün Bayarlalt, a sacred Xaela term translating roughly to "Binding of Two Souls," celebrates the union of any two individuals who wish to intertwine their destinies. This ceremony transcends the concept of marriage for other cultures, signifying a vow to walk the path of life together, as inseparable as the roots of the ancient trees within the Khoyor Mod. The Öröndün Bayarlalt is a multi-day celebration steeped in tradition and symbolism. Here's a glimpse into the ceremony's key elements:

The Offering of Braided Gysahl Greens: Days before the ceremony, the bonded couple ventures deep into the Khoyor Mod forest. Guided by a revered shaman and the whispers of the wind, they seek gysahl, a hardy, leafy plant known for its strong, bitter flavor. With respect for the resilience it embodies, they carefully harvest the thickest gysahl greens and painstakingly dry them under the watchful gaze of the celestial dance. Once dry, they meticulously braid the gysahl greens into intricate bands, each unique and imbued with the spirit of the forest. These braids become a physical representation of the Öröndün Bayarlalt, a symbol of their intertwined fates and enduring love, a reminder that strength can be found even in bitterness.

The Blessing of the Tengeriin Winds: On the eve of the ceremony, the couple undergoes a ritual purification. They stand at the confluence of the ever-flowing river and the windswept steppe. The Olgoi shamans chant prayers to Nhaama, the Dusk Mother, and Azim, the Dawn Father, beseeching them to wash away any past troubles and prepare the couple for their new life together. The shamans then fan the couple with eagle feathers, symbolically carrying away negativity on the Tengeriin winds, the powerful winds that sweep across the steppe.

The Vows Spoken Beneath the Nhaama's Embrace: As the first stars begin to peek through the twilight sky, the ceremony reaches its peak. The couple stands beneath a magnificent archway woven from branches of the Khoyor Mod forest, adorned with vibrant wildflowers that cast a cheerful glow. The Olgoi shamans, their voices rising in a haunting melody, invoke the celestial beings and the spirits of the land. The couple then exchanges their braided gysahl green rings, their vows spoken not just in words, but in a silent dance of eyes that reflects the eternal dance of the stars above.

The Inevitable Feast: Following the exchange of vows, a joyous celebration erupts. The entire tribe gathers around a crackling bonfire, sharing food, laughter, and stories. Traditional music fills the air, a blend of haunting melodies played on stringed instruments crafted from bone and the rhythmic thrumming of drums made from cured animal hides. The feast is a testament to the joy of the newly formed bond, a symbolic merging of the couple's families and a celebration of their new life together within the Olgoi community.

[10:25 PM]

The Öröndün Bayarlalt is a cornerstone of Olgoi culture, a ceremony that binds two souls together under the watchful gaze of the celestial dance and the whispering spirits of the Khoyor Mod forest. It is a celebration of love, commitment, and the enduring spirit of the Xaela people, a testament to the strength found in unity, regardless of gender or societal norms.

The Olgoi, steeped in tradition and living in harmony with the harsh beauty of the steppe and the Khoyor Mod forest, have a rich and vibrant mythology. Here's a glimpse into some of the core tenets of their belief system: The Celestial Dance:

The Olgoi believe the night sky is not just a canvas of stars, but a stage for a celestial dance. The constellations represent celestial beings, Nhaama, the Dusk Mother, and Azim, the Dawn Father, locked in an eternal waltz. Their dance dictates the natural cycles – the rising and setting of the sun, the changing seasons, and the flow of life and death. Observing and interpreting the celestial dance is a crucial part of Olgoi life, informing their decisions and connecting them to the rhythm of the universe.

The Spirits of the Land:

The Olgoi revere the spirits that animate the world around them. Every aspect of nature – the wind that whips across the steppe, the trees of the Khoyor Mod, the rivers that snake through the landscape – is believed to be infused with a spirit. These spirits are not necessarily benevolent or malevolent, but powerful forces that must be respected and appeased. The shamans, spiritual leaders with a deep understanding of the natural world, act as intermediaries between the Olgoi and the spirits.

Ancestral Veneration:

The Olgoi hold their ancestors in high esteem, believing their spirits continue to watch over the tribe. They revere the wisdom and experience of their forebears, seeking guidance from their memories and deeds. Offerings are made to ancestral spirits, and stories of their exploits are passed down through generations, ensuring their legacy lives on.

The Gysahl and the Cycle of Life:

The gysahl, a hardy, bitter green plant found in the Khoyor Mod, plays a significant role in Olgoi mythology. Its bitter taste symbolizes the hardships and struggles of life. However, the gysahl also possesses remarkable resilience, enduring the harsh winters and emerging stronger. It represents the Olgoi spirit – enduring, adaptable, and finding strength even in adversity. The braiding of gysahl greens for the Öröndün Bayarlalt ceremony reflects this connection to the cycle of life, acknowledging the inevitable bitterness but celebrating the enduring love that binds the community together.

The Myths and Legends:

Olgoi mythology is rich with stories passed down through generations. These tales explain natural phenomena, celebrate heroes of the past, and warn against dangers. Some common themes include:

Creation Myths: Stories explaining the origin of the world, the first Olgoi, and their connection to the spirits.

Trickster Myths: Tales of mischievous spirits who test the wit and wisdom of the Olgoi.

Hero Myths: Stories of legendary Olgoi warriors who defended the tribe from monstrous creatures or rival tribes.

Beast Myths: Legends of terrifying creatures that lurk in the wilds of the steppe and the depths of the Khoyor Mod.

The mythology of the Olgoi is a living tapestry, constantly evolving as new stories are added and old ones are reinterpreted. It serves as a foundation for their culture, shaping their values, traditions, and connection to the world around them.

[pickerelstripe]

ClayClan Masterpost

Masterpost for general ClayClan world-building. ClayClan is a fanclan residing in a Maine wetland, inspired roughly by Acadia National Park. Their territory is a freshwater swampy forest. There’s rivers and ponds clogging the wetter sections, while the ground dries up fully elsewhere - one border fades into a small lake. There’s low mountains and a little twolegplace in the distance. Summers are comfortable, winters are freezing, and it’s often cloudy year-round.

Below the cut: Upland camp and Lake camp, relationships with outsiders, what it means to be a Clan cat, ranking system, activities, and links to lore posts

Religion

ClayClan worships a pantheon of gods. More information can be found here: Religion Masterpost

The Two Camps

ClayClan has two camps; Upland and Lake! In Claymew, their names are Shelpan and Uloban. Upland camp is located on a dry hill in the woods, while Lake camp is tucked into a boggy island on the lakeshore. They’re about an hour’s hike away from each other.

Both are well furnished, but Upland camp serves as the Clan’s center of operations and is where the leader resides. Cats move between camps freely. Warriors typically pick a favorite depending on their various skills (skilled fishers stay at Lake, skilled climbers stay at Upland, etc), while the captains and acolytes cycle between them to keep an eye on things. Apprentices generally travel with their mentor. Queens traditionally raise their litters at Upland, where it’s safer, but there’s occasionally the odd-one-out who prefers their kits grow up at Lake.

No matter what camp you’re in, everybody gathers together for ceremonies in Upland. The one exception to this is warrior ceremonies - apprentices can pick which camp they become a warrior at! It’s tradition for an apprentice to pick the camp that lines up with their best skills.

Relations with Outsiders

ClayClan believes that their gods shine on anyone who lives willingly in the Clan. Due to this, loners and kittypets are welcomed in as long as they dedicate themselves to the community. There’s no shame in having outsider blood.

ClayClan cats may also mate freely with outsiders, under two stipulations: 

The mateship must not come before loyalty to ClayClan

Resulting kits must be raised in ClayClan

This practice keeps the gene pool diverse.  ClayClan is cordial with loners and has a good reputation among local wanderers.

What It Means to be a Clan Cat

To be a ClayClan cat is to be a part of the community, embodying the traits that Hyaash and Mrrha represent - fighting, hunting, teamwork, creativity, and community. Living in ClayClan ties you into the whole, making you more than just a mere cat. They believe that this is the system the gods intended.

Ranking System

ClayClan recognizes nine ranks in their social system. These ranks are generally the same as canon WC, and so only the unique ranks will have in-depth explanatory notes.

Leader (1) Head of the Clan.

Deputy (1) Organize everybody; report to the leader. Chosen by the leader from among the captains. A captain must have either trained an apprentice or raised a litter before being eligible for deputyship.

Acolyte (2-3) Healers and religious advisors. Believed to have a special connection to the gods - only they are capable of creating sculptures with religious significance.

Captain (2) Organize the warriors; report to the deputy. Captains are elected by the warriors and serve for one season (three moons) at a time, though they may be voted in for several seasons in a row. The leader chooses their deputy from among the captains, so it’s a very sought-after position among the warriors. Warriors must have served for a full year (twelve moons) before being eligible for captainhood.

Warrior  Adult cats who hunt, fight, patrol, etc. There’s an informal role among the warriors known as a messenger - messengers are swift endurance runners who travel between the camps to ferry news, fetch help, etc. Any warrior may take up the mantle of messenger.

Apprentice Cats between the age of six and twelve moons who are in training to become warriors or acolytes.

Queen Adult cats who are expecting or caring for kits. The term ‘queen’ is ungendered in ClayClan society - mollies, toms, and jacks may all be queens.

Kit Cats below the age of six moons.

Elder Senior cats who have retired.

Activites

ClayClan has a very active arts culture - they sculpt clay, tell stories, and act in plays! More information can be found here: Arts Masterpost

More Posts

The role of a leader

Why ClayClan doesn’t have gender roles

More on mud-kittens

[kiastirling-fanfic]

hi kia, happy friday! "And if you’re good maybe they’ll be light on you, long as you dance just like they want you to" for an inquisitor perhaps !!

Thanks Blue!! Here's a brief scene on the way to stabilize the Breach.

@dadrunkwriting

Characters: Dascha Cadash, Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast, Solas Rating: T? references to drugs (lyrium) Words: 505

Dascha ran for a living, but she didn’t run with her hand on fire up mountains for a living with demons raining down on her and it was starting to show. She ran lyrium, she ran low to the ground through forests, delivering goods to clients who didn’t want their habits known.

She knew she shouldn’t have gone to the Conclave to begin with, knew it wasn’t where she was most effective, but orders were orders and she’d gone and now she was here, running up a mountain.

Then another pulse took her to her knees.

“Solas! See to the prisoner!” Cassandra snapped when Dascha’s stubby legs failed to keep up crossing a frozen river. “We need her alive when we reach the forward camp if we’re to see this through.”

“Of course, Seeker.” Solas was as demure as any noble daughter and led Dascha too a rock outside a burning hut. A fisher’s cabin in summer perhaps, but in the dead of winter it was just on fire and likely unoccupied before it became so. He allowed her to lean on it - too tall for her to sit anyway, and she didn’t need the leg cramps a proper rest might bring - as he examined her hand.

“So,” the voice of one Varric Tethras cut through, “let me guess: Fellow surface dwarf, maybe part of the Carta?” Maybe he thought he was being companionable, but it just made Dascha’s hackles rise.

“What makes you say that?” Dascha was guarded at best. What was he after? Not that he had to be after something, but Varric Tethras? Rumor had it he was affiliated with the Coterie, so he wouldn’t bring up the Carta off hand.

“I can tell a proper Orzammar dwarf from twenty paces.” Liar. Or. Well. Dascha had never been proper anything. Maybe he was right. “Also, you have that shifty-smuggler look to you.” That much she couldn’t deny. She was a smuggler.

“Takes a criminal to know one,” Dascha huffed. Solas stopped his prodding about then and Cassandra gave a very military looking wave, It wasn’t dissimilar to the gesture used by the Carta in their regular hand signs to mean get a move on.

“At least you admit it,” Cassandra growled.

“Being a criminal in general, yes. Not- not to whatever this is. I’m a smuggler, that’s it.”

“Well you know what they say; one man’s smuggler is another man’s terrorist,” Varric grinned and clapped her on the back and it did nothing to endear him to her. “Who knows; if you’re good they might be light on you.”

“So long as you dance the way they want you too.” Solas seemed a little less agreeablefor the moment, his kindly mask slipping that was likely for Cassandra’s benefit in retrospect. Apostate and- whatever a Seeker was. Some kind of templar by the way Cassandra was taking out those demons. “Don’t tell me you believe in the Chantry’s justice, Master Tethas?”

And just for a moment Varric seemed less jovial. “Keep walking Chuckles.”

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

‘Many different Amazonias, Amazonians’: The cultures of Brazil’s Amazon

Brazil’s slice of the Amazon rainforest is home to 28 million people.

Renowned for its stunning biodiversity, the Amazon rainforest region is also home to a vast array of people and cultures.

“People usually think that the environment doesn’t contain and include people, but it does,” said soil scientist Judson Ferreira Valentim, who lives in Brazil’s Acre state. “There are many different Amazonias and many different Amazonians.”

From small villages of thatched homes to the skyline of Belem rising above mist on the river – a view sometimes called “Manhattan of the Amazon” – Brazil’s slice of the Amazon is home to 28 million people.

Many communities are linked by water. Along the Tocantins River, a tributary of the Amazon, yellow school boats pick up children from wooden homes on stilts, and fishers throw scraps of the day’s catch to river dolphins that frequent the docks. Families linger beside river beaches at sunset, the water a relief from the heat of the day.

Other communities are linked by rural roads, which often wash out during heavy rains, or newly paved highways – which bring better access to schools and hospitals, but also, often, deforestation.

In the forest itself, there is often no path. Acai picker Edson Polinario spends his days under dappled sunlight that filters through the canopy of virgin rainforest, often with just the company of his large black dog.

Continue reading and see more pictures.

[adventuressclubamericas]

Flat Phryne Canada Road Trip

Flat Phryne's adventures on the way to Miss Fisher Con in St. Paul continue. Her Canadian road trip begins in...LONDON !

No, not that one, the other one. The forest city in Southern Ontario, or also known as 'Half Way Between Detroit and Toronto'. And it also sits on the Thames River. (How Original!)

The City of London acknowledges that it is situated on the traditional lands of the Anishinaabek, Haudenosaunee, Lūnaapéewak and Attawandaron. Or in English, The Chippewas of the Thames First Nation; Oneida Nation of the Thames; and the Munsee-Delaware Nation, who all continue to live as sovereign Nations with individual and unique languages, cultures and customs.

No road trip can begin in Canada without a Timmies, a coffee or tea from the Tim Horton's coffee shop. Will Flat Phryne order a Medium Double Double (Two Cream Two Sugars) or have a steeped Earl Grey?

Flat Phryne then made her way to Toronto, the largest city in Canada. Behind her is the CN Tower, the most prominent structure on the waterfront, once the tallest free-standing structure in the world.

 While in Toronto, she checked in at Noonan's Irish Pub for a special event called ChickJam, an evening of music by an all female ensemble. 

It's a fundraiser for Garner Theatre Productions, who supports theatrical and musical productions, especially by women. Phryne had a grand time hooting and dancing and was even persuaded to take the mike for a song.

Phryne ends her road trip on the shores of one of the jewels in Canada, the Great Lakes. The scenery leaves her breathless.

Where will Flat Phryne visit next ? Stay tuned ! https://www.missfishercon.com/

#MissFisher #MsFisher #1920s #1920sfashion #1920sstyle #1960s #1960sfashion #1960svintage #1930s #1930sfashion #1930sstyle #1930svintage #shanghai #melbourne #mnhistory #flapper #phrynefisher #adventuressescluboftheamericas #adventuress  #stpaulmn #stpaul #saintpaul #saintpaulmn #saintpaulminnesota #saintpaulhotel #london #ontario #toronto #canada #flatphryne

[chroniclingworlds]

Flageliforms

The Flageliforms and their close relatives the Inmania have a spring-loaded proboscis attached by a highly flexible band of connective tissue, which can be shot forward at blinding speed to impale prey. The Flageliforms in particular produce a whiplike crack when launching their proboscis.

Dagger-tongues:

Pictured: the western Dagger-tongue, living in the Three Lakes region of Ejoa.

These small forest-dwelling species live across Axane, Ejoa and Amki, and hunt Prong-Mouths, Mud-Probers and many other small animals. They also commonly scavenge kills from other predators. Solitary and elusive, they are difficult to observe in the wild. They mate and brood their eggs in burrows excavated with their sharp front claws, and spend much of the day underground, emerging to hunt at night.

Whip-tongues:

Pictured: the black-striped whip-tongue, which can be found in the semi-arid regions between the Ejoan Great Savanna and the Silver Desert.

The whip-tongues are truly the ultimate survivors of the Flageliforms. These dynamic creatures hunt a huge variety of species and seem to thrive in nearly every habitat across Axane, Ejoa and Amki. The only places where they are absent are the most extreme alpine regions and inhospitable deserts. Although not as big or ferocious as their cousins the Moon Dogs, they more than make up for it in adaptability. While mostly solitary, they will sometimes hunt cooperatively to take down larger prey. The one fully domesticated Aconch species, the Musdor, belongs to this group.

Moon Dogs:

Pictured: the golden Moon Dog, which is found in the temperate rainforests of the Ever-Reaching River of Axane.

The biggest Flageliforms, these pack hunters live in the forests and tundras of Amki, Ejoa and Axane, using their high intelligence to coordinate attacks on large animals. While not as big as the Inmania that share their habitat, they have strength in numbers against both their prey and potential predators. Packs of Moon Dogs seem to have distinct societal roles and complex communication, and are considered some of the smartest animals on Varin aside from the Doloformes.

Fishers:

Pictured: the river wolf, found in the Thira River of Ejoa.

This unusual branch of the Flageliforms took a very different approach to life, taking to the water and becoming semi-aquatic. Although they only live in large rivers, they are excellent aquatic hunters and feed on a variety of Hexapod and Itchyomorph species. They are frequently seen gathering in groups to bask on logs and rocks. Their preferred habitat often brings them into competition with River Tigers, and although the Tigers have size to their advantage, the Fishers rely on strength in numbers, and a pack can easily defend themselves from a Tiger looking for an easy meal.

[redotter]

PAP chapter 2: the witch

When she looked back to her life, Manu's memories were always divided into three equally long acts: her childhood in Papura, her coming of age with the coven, and the rest. It didn't matter how many new centuries she lived through, they never took away from the importance and heaviness of those first twenty years.

Papura was a small fisher settlement on the Danube Delta with barely a handful of houses, if the houses were the size of lentils. The wetlands were murky, the grass tall, the roots reaching for the never-ending muddy bottoms of rivers. Water blended into dirt in rich aromas, then evaporated into the air, thick and slow, always lingering. Birds came and went in flocks so dense they could have been mosquitoes. The Black Sea was just a boat trip away. Everything about Manu’s birthplace was full.

[...]

Ibrail was a harbor town right before the Danube broke off into the Delta, immense compared to everything Manu knew until then. The coven was modest, gathered from the Alps to the Urals, from the Baltics to the deserts down south. Witches from different environments used to specialize in different arts, but as their numbers fell, cultures converged. 

They would meet every full moon, in a clearing in the woods. From the sweet dryness of July to the sharp beauty of January, witches always celebrated nature and expressed gratitude for the seasons. [...] They would light a fire and open wine bottles. Some would bring instruments, but all would sing and dance regardless. In the deeper shadows, the older girls were often kissing and touching each other. Manu loved the dense party atmosphere as much as the exhausted euphoria of dawn, when the night became rarer and quieter, and the forest smelled differently. Every full moon, Manu returned to her bed content with joy and belonging.