#topic: windarian culture

[kuroki---kaze]

Windaria's Unlimited :: Wielder of the Golden Gun

⋆୨𖤓୧⋆ The wielder of the Infernal Father's gun, would be the one who places his heart within this beast and survives. A grand champion that would rise above the rest to take his seat as War God of Windaria, known only through legend as Asher.

As time passed, the Windarian people came to find that one such soul - the black blood - Fekete Szél - was Asher incarnate. With his heart placed within the gun, he was accepted as it's chosen wielder by the God within, the Infernal Father - Bahamut. The gun itself is grafted into Kaze's body by way of his right arm, that gets reconstructed when the Magun is thawed. As long as the vial that contains his heart remains undamaged, Kaze himself can never die. He is effectively immortal as the only beings that can damage the vial are one White Cloud, his Unlimited counterpart and Chaos itself.

This gun grants it's wielder the ability to access the Soil Spiral in a way that normal Soil Sages cannot. It gives it's commander the ability to combine varying colors of Soil Bullets to summon a variable army of Soil Spirits.

Pictured: Phoenix, Typhoon, Ixion, Shiva, Atmos, Meteor Master, Ifrit, Odin (there's more.)

A Soil Spirit's power is generally unmatched in most cases and delivers a devastated blow to whatever foe unleashes them on.

You can see Kaze summon here:

In order to summon a spirit, Kaze uses different combinations of colors of Soil and Soil Poetry by way of describing the Soil being used.

(Please remember Soil is not dirt but instead it is the crystallization of a passed on Soul. Every Soul in the Universe is either comprised of one of two elemental building blocks and they are Soil and Mist. Most things possess a Soul of Soil therefore their soul carries that color hue.)

But the ability to call forth an army of Soil Spirits is not the only thing the Magun is capable of. Kaze is a skilled Soil Sage and as such can control powerful magics. He can command Soil to do many things but one of the other abilities the Magun possesses is spellcasting.

Different color combinations will result in a Soil Spirit, but what if he were to use the same. For example, we'll use Fire Red.

If Kaze were to fire a single Fire Red from the Magun it would cast a spell.

1 Fire Red = Fire

2 Fire Red = Fira

3 Fire Red = Firaga

It works like this for most spells in the terms of general spellcasting. The more of the same type of Soil he uses, the stronger the spell. Kaze can fast cast with the Magun and fire off as many spells as he has the ammo for. Further more, being as connected to the Soil Spiral as he is, he can manifest bullets into form whenever he needs them.

This is why Windarian Religion dictated that whoever was accepted by the Infernal Father's Golden Gun would become a War God. Just as Kumo can use the Maken telepathically because of his connection to it, Kaze can manifest ammunition for the Magun at will and fast cast with it as long as he has the right combination and he doesn't over tax his heart.

Because just like the the Maken is Kumo's soul, the Magun is Kaze's heart. Both weapons are the Unlimited's very lives and as long as they remain undamaged they are nigh unstoppable forces of nature.

[kuroki---kaze]

Next subject that's been rotting in my brain and I made you a little chart to go by to help with visuals. The tattoos a Windarian carried on their face were their Military Rank. Much like how some human military carry their ranking on the shoulder of their uniforms by what gets referred to as stars and bars - the Windarian's military ranking came in the form of facial tattoos the more one had the higher their rank.

This is also a customary practice for them because their Military ruled their government. So only the highest ranking members of the military could make governmental decisions. When it came to the military every member was assigned a partner in the form of a moogle and that moogle would also carry the same rank as their assigned partner but generally tattooed in the opposite fashion.

So since a solder started with marks under the right eye, a moogle partner would start with marks under the left. There were more members of the Windarian military then there weren't.

[kuroki---kaze]

The Infernals || The Children of Destruction

˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚ The Windarians are, Soil Souled, creatures that are what is known in the universe as Pure Blood Infernals. This meaning that they are the closest born to the God of Destruction, Lord Bahamut, himself. Due to their close proximity to his bloodline, The Infernals are Soil Souled creatures that all possess a hue to their blood. Infernals being direct descendants of Bahamut bleed the same color as the Soil that composing their soul.

They possess an augmented set of senses when in comparison to that of a human and sharpened fangs. It was also not uncommon to see a Windarian that refused to trim their claws. They are a warrior race that values the collective above the individual and they base the value one has on that collective based on how the hue of one's soil could be utilized within the space of Windarian society.

Windarians often referred to each other by the color of one's blood as all Windarians had their souls read at birth by a Soil Shaman to determine one's hue.

Soil is a acronym for Spectrum Of Individual Life and the Windarians see themselves as the safe guard of the Soil Spiral or Soil Stream. As Soil Souled creatures cycle in death and become reborn throughout the universe as new life and the future generations of all sorts of races and species to come. Windarians champion themselves to speak for the soil to those who cannot hear it.

They refer to Lord Bahamut as "The Infernal Father" and are in reflection to their opposite of those who live in the clouds upon high, the children of Creation, The Celestials.

[kuroki---kaze]

A Warrior's Thoughts || Accepting

@musesofthemoon asked:

💭 + Windaria

⋆୨𖤓୧⋆ Again these travelers ask of things they should not know. Windaria is gone and the only ones with memory of her that yet remain are himself and the Mistericans. It should honestly have stayed that way. They ask him now of his home, and wish to know what he thought of it as if they have any business being privy to such information in the first place. It isn't their place to know him and doing so will sure no greater purpose.

Windaria was a cruel mistress. An unforgiving mother that sought to make sure her children learned the proper ways of the world. They only had their father to turn to. The Infernal Father of them all that molded their flesh from the soil of his soul to make sure that the voices of the spiral still had through some grand medium to speak.

Most living souls now days hadn't a clue what the core of their very essence entailed and part of him doesn't think they really cared. The people of his world would have called such a thing sacrilege but yet they called him that too, why should he give a damn what they think?

The masses only ever looked his direction once the grand father of them all turned his Soil white. The masses only ever spared him a passing glance once they thought he was finally doing all he could for the collective in his proper place and had been granted the power of the Gods themselves.

Windaria was ... complicated and misguided. Windaria was consumed because it's lust for hatred and greed attracted the monster and drew in the beast. How the arrogant fall when they believe they can be harmed by nothing. An Empire built on sand can only stand as long as the rains stay at bay.

Chaos was very much the rain. Misterica, the rolling clouds to foretell it's coming.

Windaria was too arrogant to pay attention.

So he's tilting his head to the side to bring the traveler who asked such a thing fully into his gaze. Allow the ocean to envelop as the shadow of the sun settles just below the horizon.

They wish to know what he thought of his home, but he finds himself unwilling to convey what they asked. It is a lost world, broken and fragmented by Chaos' lust and greed. There is no need to speak for that that has been lost. Dead men tell no tales, and he would not speak them for them either.

[kuroki---kaze]

Windaria || The Land of Soil

Windaria was a land of soul borne and was a harsh mixed climate of both desert and tree. Few forests littered the land where most soil spread over vast reaches of the ground below the clouds.

It was a place where only the hardy could survive. The sun was hot and the nights were cold no matter where one was and because of this the Windarian people that lived there were a species not to be trifled with.

The Windarian Government was an Oligarchy giving power to a small number of men who were the very top reaches of the government. More over these men were the highest reaches of the Windarian Military. Windarians valued the collective over the individual and would do whatever was necessary to make sure the collective advanced and survived.

They were a race of humanoid like beings with claws and fangs that bled the crystallization of one's soul known as Soil. They worshipped the God of Destruction and Ruler of the Soil Spiral, The Infernal Father, Bahamut. Below him were minor warriors gods but also Gods for medicine and the harvest.

Windarians worshipped the land above all. The land would give all and the land could take all away. They existed in a warrior mentality and the able bodied devoted their lives to the military, as that was the greatest way to show honor and respect for those around you. They dropped countless resources into military and weapons development to protect against the wilds of the Windaria and any invaders that could attack from upon high.

Windaria had a tendency to divide it's people depending on the color of their blood - as the color of one's soil would be reflective in the color they bled. All colors formed the collective, so all colors had a place but some were better at some skills than other and they were named accordingly. It was common practice for the color of one's soil to be reflective in a Windarian's name.

Their gift from the Infernal Father, was the Golden Gun - the Magun itself. It was said that whoever were to become the wielder of such a creation would become a war god and would be able to deal with the Misterican Threat their Celestial Brethren posed during the times of war.

Later deep into this Millennia old feud, the szél-köd tűzszünet was forged with the Misterican King, Helakanpunainen Aurinko causing a ceasefire between their people, but the ceasefire could only hold so long while the two worlds looked for the chosen wielders of their Holy Weapons of the Gods.

[kuroki---kaze]

100 Days of Headcanon || Day 10: Clothes

⋆୨𖤓୧⋆ Kaze's clothes are there to serve a purpose not for a fashion statement and he really couldn't give a damn what people think about them. All of his clothing has some form of wear and tear on them simply from the state of which they've gone through hell. It's customary Windarian garb to wear such clothing when one is a Windarian Gunman. He's a Major in the Windarian Military and he dresses the part. Cloaks to deal with harsh weather and the unforgiving sun. A belt full of soil charges at his command and a modified archer's glove on his left hand.

He is dressed for battle at all times, and his clothing is for practicality over all else. There was no significance in hue to Windarian clothing and as such he simply dresses in the same tones at the rest of his people and he cares little about the state of repair or disrepair his garments are in. The only thing that matters is how functional his clothing works for battle and survival.

[kuroki---kaze]

100 Days of Headcanon || Day 1: Childhood

⋆୨𖤓୧⋆ Born Fekete Szél (Black Wind) to Lángoló Ègbolt (Blazing Skies) and Hajnali Csillogás (Daybreak Glimmer), Szél's childhood was not an easy one. Windarian's are pure blooded Infernals and because of this that means they bleed the color of their Soil.

Szél's soil was Black when he was born and he was one of the only Windarians to ever be born to Soil of that color. Society as a whole referred to him as The Black Blood and they shunned his existence. Black wasn't a color to be completely ostracized like in Misterican Society but it wasn't seen as good.

His parents abandoned him when he was only four years old, leaving Szél to fend for himself and live on the streets. He received help from strangers here and there that took pity on a kid living on his own until they saw him bleed. He would be quickly shunned again and left to fend for himself, his face becoming quickly known for the 'creature' that he was. When Szél was just a young boy he was pulled into the military to be trained as a soldier, so he could have some proper use to the collective of Windarain society as a whole.

This turned Szél bitter and quiet towards those around him. He was given a partner to "look after him" once he was thrust into military service in the form of his bonded pair - Moogle Kupo.

[shiroi---kumo]

Headcanon: The Tuliase Kielto 

The Tuliase Kielto, in other words, was Misterica’s mass prohibition on the use of firearms and that’s just what it means. “Firearm Prohibition.”  Firearms, while invented and put into use at one time by the Misterican people, were banned outright when it was found they were being used in ways that could be considered torturous and the amount of damage they could cause to one’s hearing. 

Windaria, locked in a never ending feud with the Mistericas were the people to invent and employ the use of these weapons first. Misterica, adopted the technology in kind as to not allow their enemy to gain an advantage against them. It was a rolling bolder of events that lead to bigger and more deadly weapons, which in turn meant bigger and more deadly explosions. 

The nature of an explosion of any kind can be quite damaging to someone of Misterican descent due to the damage it inflicts upon their hearing. They’re capable of blowing out a person’s hearing entirely and many Mistericans were deafened in both battle against the Windaran’s and the process of their own inventions.  

Other problems came along with firearms beyond the deafening and torturous sounds they created. The smoke they let off from their explosive rounds were damaging to Misterican lungs and a shot from one of them to the chest at any place meant for a torturous and painful death for the one who was unfortunate enough to receive it.  The more Mistericans dove into the technology the more they found themselves piling up their own causalities if anything from pure accident. 

It had seemed that the Windarians had found the perfect weapon to use against them. They’d found a weapon they could not implore themselves if only because in doing so it destroyed their hearing and polluted their lungs. Firearms of all types were considered a torturous device by Misterica and their use was banned outright through the populace 

Because of this development in Windarian armaments, the Mistericans explored how to better combat the threat. Thus they poured their own research and development into their sumunaamio (mist mask) to not just filter their Mist from their breath before it entered the air but also to protect their hearing as well. Mistercia also developed a two way filter within their masks, that both filters their own mist from their breath so it does not get into the air unless they want it to and a filter that works to purify smoke and any other hazardous fumes from the air to prevent them from reaching Misterican lungs.

The Religious Council deemed such weaponry both barbaric and demonic. They declared it a mark of Bahamut’s followers to use such torturous devices. The Royal Knights and the Misterican Military have been trained to deal with such weapons and they were all forced to take an oath not to use them upon their enlistment. Some mercenaries and independent agents however will still resort to their use from time to time but for a Misterican to be found with a firearm in their possession it is a hefty price to be paid.

[shiroi---kumo]

A Prince’s Secrets || Accepting    

@areapermostcapricious​ asked:

☕️ + Fashion. Sipping his own tea, waiting for the response.

There is that strange man setting before him again, a quaint little shop in a part of Wonderland that rumors of the White Devil hadn't reached. 

A quaint little shop for a quaint little town that still very much knew the name Lord Makenshi and upon laying eyes on him, he watched that poor girl's face turn sheet white as she nearly dropped the order in her hands. She turned on her heel once she'd delivered said order to the proper customer and raced to the back of the café and he could hear her nervous chatter telling the rest of the staff and the owner -apparently her father - just who had proceeded to wander into their small shop on this very unfortunate day. 

The Misterican found his shoulders slumping at the notion as he signed, the mist in his breath striking against the thin metal covering his face and filtering from the heaved notion before it could meet the air. Snow colored brows upturn when she returns to face him, her body infected with tremors as the poor thing finds herself shaking like a leaf. The sound of her heart racing does not go unmissed. 

If only she could see the soft sympathetic smile he wears on his lips, but instead she's met with his Sumunaamio and that in and of itself must seem quite imposing.  

"Wel-welcome to our shop, Lord Ma-Makenshi. It is an h-h-honor to have - "

She stops short when he raises his hand up to signal to her to do so as he sighs again. 

"Please. Please take a breath for a moment and just collect yourself. I am just a customer to you, there is no need for all this formality. I would just like a simple cup of tea and a place to enjoy the quiet. So please, Miss - beg your pardon, what is your name?" 

Her face flushes to a bright color as her eyes widen and she freezes for a moment before she finds herself twisting on her own tongue again.

"I - ah - my name - ah - it's - my name is Monika, My Lord."

He sighs again and draws his mask back so she can see the half smile that is hanging on his lips. 

"Please, no formalities. I'm just the same as you. In fact, Miss Monika, you can call me by my given name. My name is not Makenshi, please my name is White Cloud. It is my pleasure to meet you."

His head drops to her  in a half bow with his hands moving to come together resting with his palms against each other just in front of his middle.  She can only stare for a moment, hands fumbling as she tries and fails to mimic the motion. Such a strange greeting and she doesn't completely understand why he does it but she can tell he's showing her some form of respect. 

"Ah - yes My Lord - I'm sorry - this way Master White Cloud - there is a table over in the corner that is quite quiet - well - " 

But her words are lost as jade eyes are distracted by the sight of that strange man again and he seems to be waving him over… so the Misterican gives her a smile before his mask is resummoned to his face. 

"Excuse me, Miss Monika, do you mind if I seat myself? I've found a familiar face you see."

"Ah - of course not - I - I - please sit wherever you like. I'll be over to take your order in a minute." 

"I thank you." 

He's summoned over to his new company where he takes a moment to take a seat down in front of his new acquaintance. He said that the man was the one setting in front of him but really he's the one setting in front of that strange man. The situation is entirely flipped. 

He smiles again at his new company as he lets his mask flood back, as to allow the full range of his expressions to be seen. 

"Terve." He sounds with a half nod. "I wasn't expecting to see you again. How have you been faring? I hope you're adjusting to Wonderland well. Better than you were I mean." 

It's an honest greeting and he means no offense. Surely there will be idle chatter as he waits for his own tea to be brought to him while they can chat. The last time they met, they didn't really have a chance to speak in full and the prince couldn't deny the fact that the other man interested him.  

So he smiles when the hostess brings him his tea and me gives her a polite show of thanks. There is a pause because he even begins to attempt to answer the question posed. A slow sip of the liquid with absolute grace at holding the object. It certainly is proper princely form and his pedigree is showing as he moves. Table manners are just as important when providing a proper first impression.  

Setting the cup back down on the saucer that was provided with it, his hand moves, dropping a cube of sugar into the glass and he stirs it in with grace. Only his hand remains slowly and softly stirring the liquid around as he starts to speak. 

“It comes in many forms and honestly I don’t have much room to speak on any of them.” He starts plainly looking down for only a moment to watch the liquid spin before jade eyes lift and fix upon the man in front of him just across the table. 

“Wonderland is strange, you see. I’ve met many different types of people and many different species of beings. I am not fit to judge any of them for their customs or beliefs and clothing - or well fashion - is highly reflective of one’s culture. Our cultures are all we have left of our homes now. All who live here are considered Wonderlanders by default. I am not a Wonderlander at my core, but with Misterica gone there is nowhere else I can dare title my home. All who live here are in much the same boat. None of us started out as Wonderlanders, we just ended up that way. None of us like it, but it’s the only place we have now. You need to live somewhere, right? You understand, yes? 

I think fashion is interesting and it speaks so much about the beings that wear it. It’s such a personal thing both to an individual and as a representation of culture.  My counterpart and I - we’re from two completely different worlds, you see. He is from a world known as Windaria and I, Misterica. Our world’s climates were drastically different and how our people functioned in them had much influence on our people’s choices in fashion. 

I dress lightly, and show more skin than he would ever dare. He dresses in dark and heavy clothing and there is hardly an inch of visible skin on his person beyond his neck and face, but it’s both personal choice and reflective of our people’s cultures and physiology. I cannot function in high temperature situations, I’m simply not built for the heat and most Mistericans weren’t either. Being as sky bound as we are, we much prefer the cold and the temperature of the sky. We mostly lived above the clouds and when you’re up that high the air has quite the pleasant chill. 

My counter on the other hand, Black Wind, comes from a near desert world and his soil bound kin tend to stay closer to the ground. In my opinion, even their forests were sweltering but he would have said our cities were frostbitten if he could have ever seen them. My lack of tolerance in heat is his lack of tolerance in the cold. We’re reversed on most subjects like this I’ve found. 

So I have seen human fashion, Fungal fashion, Windarian, Lupian, and so on. It’s all very interesting to see how other species have adapted their form of dress to work with their own make up and the world around them.  I really didn’t think I have the room to talk on the reflections of other’s cultures in a world where that culture is all that most of us have left.”  

He sounds in a calm voice, matter of fact almost - as if giving a small lesson or explanation. His hand stops absentmindedly stirring the tea before him as he shifts his grip to lift the cup back up to his lips taking a long sip for a moment. 

“If I may, why do you ask?”

[shiroi---kumo]

A Prince’s Thoughts || Always Accepting

@lady-quen​ asked:

💭 + firearms

“I have nothing good to say about those barbaric cannons. Even if they are my counterpart’s weapon of choice. I still despise them. His entire species had those damnable things as their go to weapon and I can do nothing more than loathe them. They are nothing but a mark of death for my people. 

Why would I have something positive to say about something that strips us of our senses and poisons our lungs? Too many good Mistericans lost their lives to those things. Too many more were severely injured. They spell destruction and nothing more. They are hardly a tool for self defense when all they can be used for is destruction and domination. They are a dominator’s weapon.  

I hate them.  I will never change my mind on them either. I will never understand why the powers before use choose to fashion Bahamut’s vessel in that of a golden cannon when there were so many less brutal options. 

I despise firearms and that includes Orthrus. That horrible thing is the one I hate the most quite frankly. It is Black Wind’s trusty second and it tears through flesh and bone alike with little care. It only destroys whatever it comes in contact with. Including my hearing.  Should I be fool enough to remain on a battlefield with that wolf howling for too long, even with my ears shielded by my mask, my head will still be left searing in pain afterwards. 

The number of ... what did Cid call them again - ...hold on give me a moment - Ah yes - Migraines.  The number of migraines I have now has increased at least ten fold and their duration has only extended. You need to understand that a gunshot causes a massive influx of vibrations in the air space and while most creatures cannot hear those vibrations, we Mistericans,  can. 

Every time that beast fires it sounds like a miniature war crying overhead. It’s nauseating. I cannot count the number of times I have been left feeling dizzy after a battle because of that damnable thing. I don’t care if it is Black Wind’s only line of defense. 

He wouldn’t need to use it so much if he’d just learn to rely on me. To trust me.  That’s a subject that’s neither here nor there for this conversation however. Long story short,  The Tuliase Kielto has nothing to do with my vehement hatred of those wretched tools. It has everything to do with the massive medical backlash I suffer from contact with them as a Misterican and my counterpart’s consistent negligence to give a damn about it when using it in my presence.”  

[shiroi---kumo]

[ @kazeofthemagun​ ] 

"Hey, Makenshi." Yu was the one who approached this time, curiosity in hazel eyes. The time was peaceful and the young boy decided to spend some time with the Misterican prince. "So, uh, I've been wondering about your summon spirits. We've seen Mister summon plenty of times but when I asked him if he could show us his other spirits just now, he said he won't because it's a sacred technique."

He smiled somewhat sheepishly. "He did not go into further detail than that." The younger Hayakawa's sight sought the ground. "I hope I didn't insult him with the question.."

His eyes lingered on his feet for a moment before dark browns met jade green again. "How about you? We've only seen you summon a few times and your method is very different than Kaze's. I think it's a very beautiful one.."

The kid's gaze lit up with pure wonder and admiration before recited his request on a singular breath. "C-can you show us your dragon up close o-or is that inconsiderate to ask?"

The prince listens as he sets, floating in midair as he does sometimes as the younger of the Hayakawa pair approaches. He’s not surprised when he hears of how Black Wind reacted to such a request. There is much the child does not understand of Windarian culture and he can hardly blame the boy. There was much he did not understand himself but came to learn in his time living in deep in the forest with them when  he had no where else to go. 

“He did, did he? That sounds about right. Black Wind isn’t incorrect when he says it’s a sacred one. You need to understand Windarian customs to better understand Black Wind and his summons, Yu.  He might not remember most things but he remembers his people and his home and he takes them very seriously. The Windarians were a prideful warrior people. They take these kinds of things quite seriously. 

I don’t think you insulted him, so don’t worry too much about that. However, make sure you show the soil more respect in the future. Do you understand what Soil is? You saw them didn’t you? Each color is a crystalized soul of someone who’s passed on. They’re given a second life through the Soil, and using them to summon frivolously would be quite disrespectful. He’s not being rude, he just has poor communication skills. 

It’s not your fault Yu, he’s always been like that.” 

He’s shifting himself around he explains, listening as the topic is shifted from Black Wind to himself.  His own summons. Different he says? Well of course they are. 

“Of course they are, we’re very different people. The Windarians have always been the polar opposite of we, Mistericans. So it’s only natural that Black Wind’s summons and methods are different from my own. I can explain it to you but I can’t show you. It’s not inconsiderate at all, I’m quite honored you’re so interested in my dragons but I can’t summon them just to do so. It’s quite draining you see.

Where Black Wind’s summons rely on the Soil of those who have passed, mine rely on the Mist of the living. More specifically, my own. My dragons are an extension of myself there for they are fueled by my own energy to be brought to life. They are created from my breath Yu. The breathe of life itself lives within my lungs.  That is Mist. The very breath of life. While I am capable of summoning Sword Dragon for any reason, they function on my intent and are powered by my life force. 

So it is quite draining to do so I’m sorry, but you understand, yes?”