#xaela gharl

[paintedscales]

018. Gharl

Fueled by obsession. Obsession with freedom. Obsession with protection. Obsession with getting strong. Obsession with hatred. Obsession with enacting revenge. It claws and claws and claws till it bursts.

Word Count: 4,030

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

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Arrows were fired out, aimed up to rain down upon the Kharlu upon their descent. However, Nomin hesitated on her release, instead looking more at the backs of those that were riding out to meet the rival tribe. She loosed her arrow a tad later than most, withdrawing another one quickly to get it prepped for the second wave before she were to be noticed by anyone that may point her out.

'Not my fight…' were the words that settled in Nomin’s mind as she scanned the area. Once weapons came into contact with one another, Nomin locked her attention onto one of the Jhungid she recognized as being high up on the list of who to cross out immediately.

Several waves of arrows were fired before horns of war rang out to signal a pressed attack from the spear and axe wielding frontliners. Waiting till the sixth wave of arrows went out, Nomin fired and watched her arrow sail through the air before it pierced straight through Alagh Yid's chest. So embroiled in combat were others that her slipping off her horse and onto the ground was just a part of the war. She was not the ideal first target, but she was the one that Nomin could make out right away and pick off.

Though Nomin had to act smart so as not to get caught. Her next arrow was aimed up and let loose with the eighth wave of arrows to rain down upon the Kharlu that still had yet to fully make their way to the combat meet. She repeated this process until the archers were urged forward to meet with the remnants within the conflict. Though, Nomin acted the part of riding into battle before she quickly scanned the area for any other familiar persons.

Obsessed.

She had to be. It was necessary.

Another one of Terbish’s trusted heads: Battsetseg.

Obsessed.

It was a matter of freeing herself. Freeing the other Sagahl.

Without missing a beat, Nomin took another shot, her arrow catching Battsetseg in the head right as she was about to strike down a Kharlu warrior with her own hands.

That was two down.

Obsessed.

Slowing her horse, Nomin glanced behind her. Riders were still galloping past her. This is when she took her opportunity. Guiding her horse around, she urged it forward, galloping back toward the Jhungid orda. Most of the warriors would be too enraged by the enemy at this point -- especially if they were pureblooded Jhungid. It was now or never.

Obsessed.

If anyone saw her, there were no attempts to ride after her. Not that Nomin knew. All for the better, really.

Digging her heels into her horse, Nomin rode forward with purpose. The cries and shouts of battle rang behind her, as did the singing of steel, and the cries of pain or even death.

‘Not my fight.’

Nomin rode for what felt like an eternity. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline. Maybe it was the conviction of her task. Whatever the case, sometimes it felt like her horse was merely galloping in place as her mind reeled at the fact that she was committing to this. This thing that felt like a fantasy that played over and over and over in her head.

Obsessed.

“Please work…” Nomin muttered, taking her arrow and drawing it back once the tops of the sand-colored ger finally came into view. “Flames of rage burn like the sun / Leave the Jhungid nigh undone!” Nomin spat, remembering how her dabbling in magic seemed to produce some results after that dream she had. Though it had never been strong by any means, it was the application by which it was used that was the important thing here.

Obsessed. Obsessed. Obsessed.

Her arrow erupted into flame, and a manic grin spread across Nomin’s face, delighting in how . Letting the arrow fly loose, it sailed through the air and hit the largest ger there was -- the ger that belonged to khatun Silun Gorgelji.

Obsessed.

The flames did not take long to catch, eating away at the fabrics and then the leathers. Black smoke trailed into the air, crackles of embers soon accompanying it.

Another arrow, another incantation that danced across Nomin’s lips. Another flaming arrow that was fired at one of the larger ger.

O b s e s s e d.

Once a commotion had broken out amongst those that had stayed within the orda, Nomin had ridden her horse through the panic and disorder that started to ensue. She had a mission in mind, and she had come too far to be stopped now. Digging her heels into her horse once more, Nomin urged him to press on till she saw the collection of ger that she and the other non-pure-blooded Jhungid were made to sleep.

Quickly jumping from her horse, Nomin went to the ger where Checheyigen and Chotan were -- they were not recognized as warriors just yet to have been made to fight their endless conflict. Though they were there, Nomin urged them to collect their things before going and grabbing one of her bags filled with a myriad of items she had accumulated in the last five years already. She helped Che and Chotan gather what they could before they ran out.

“Is this an attack from the Kharlu?” Checheyigen asked, clutching her bag tightly to herself as she followed hurriedly after Nomin.

“No,” was the quick and curt response from Nomin. She looked and shoved things off of beds and other surfaces, looking for anything that was important in some capacity as she situated her own belongings. Thread, cloth, leather scraps, ink… things that had not been properly put away that should have been.

“This… this was you, wasn’t it?” Chotan asked, watching Nomin. She walked forward somewhat indignantly, reaching out and grabbing the former Tumet’s wrist to stop her from walking past to the exit of the ger. “This was your ‘stupid’ plan?”

Pulling her arm away and looking at her friends, Nomin’s expression had not changed from the determined and fury-ridden way it had been settled since her time on the fields. She then looked squarely at Chotan, who seemed to scoff in disbelief that she more than had the answer when Nomin said nothing in response. Shaking her head, Chotan motioned to Checheyigen to follow along after her before looking again at the blue-haired auri.

“This is insane, Nomin,” Chotan finally said. “What were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?” Nomin repeated with a scoff of her own. “I was thinking that today’s our day to leave this damned place.”

“You’ll have all of the Jhungid after you when they find out--”

“I don’t care. I hate this place. You hate this place. There are so many of us who hate this place. This is an opportunity, and we need to take it,” Nomin dug her heels in defensively over her actions. Where their eyes stayed locked together, Chotan finally broke her stare with a frustrated sigh before looking at Checheyigen.

“We won’t have another opportunity like this again if we don’t act now…” Checheyigen reasoned when she met Chotan’s gaze. “And who knows what the Jhungid will do once they’re back anyway! I��m with Nomin. I don’t want to stay here anymore. I don’t want to be made to fight! We do not roam the Steppe seeking out glory in battle, nor to prove ourselves superior to other tribes! If we have this opportunity… Chotan, I’m going to reach for it.”

Chotan's expression became riddled with unexpected surprise before she looked down and then looked at Nomin once more. She hesitated, tightening her grip on her belongings. Pursing her lips, she finally gave a nod of acknowledgement as she furrowed her brow; "... fine. Okay. Nomin, we follow after you. Lead the way."

"Of course," Nomin assured before exiting the ger with both teens close at her heels. She hurried along past people who were running for safety, or running to save their loved ones and belongings.

“Turakina! Turakina!” Nomin shouted. In her search, she furrowed her brow and pointed a determined look in both Chotan and Che’s direction. Pointing toward the path that led toward the other ger, Nomin quickly urged them, “go get Khulan and get horses. Now! Just go!”

“Horses? But that is not our wa--” Chotan was about to protest.

“Nothing here was ever our way! Go!” Nomin snapped.

Deciding it best not to argue, the girls did as they were told while Nomin ran through the orda. She had grabbed the reins of her horse as she did, needing the quick getaway if things got any worse. Hard as she looked, however, Nomin was turning up with no results as she danced between panicking orda members, and those that were trying to put out the fire before it spread any further.

Cursing, Nomin changed her course so that she was looking for the other Sagahli teens. Again, she weaved through the chaos that was forming within the orda until she had found the others. Khulan was wide-eyed and confused, and the girls looked at Nomin for guidance once they realized she was there. Looking between them, Nomin looked around to make sure there were no other Jhungid that were on her trail or wanting to stop her from what she was doing.

Making sure the coast was clear in that regard, Nomin pointed toward the stables.

“Che, you’ve been helping with the horses. Get them saddled. Two of them. Khulan will ride with one of you since he’s still small enough for it,” Nomin commanded, laying out whatever plans she had flying in her head for the girls. Looking at Chotan, Nomin went on: “Chotan, find food. Rations that can keep all of you. Bread, jerked fish or vilekin -- stuff I know you will all eat. Grab waterskins, too.”

“What should I do, Nomin?” Khulan asked, gazing at her with curiosity and fear.

“Go with Che. Should anything happen while she’s saddling the horses, you are to ride immediately away. Get as far from here as you can,” Nomin said, tightening her hold on her horse’s reins. “And Khulan… be brave. A lot of scary stuff is probably going to happen. Just think about returning to the Sagahl. You'll get to see your mother and father again.”

Bayarmaa was held firm in the back of Nomin’s mind. Esenaij might have met his end when the Jhungid attacked, but Turakina telling Nomin that Bayarmaa escaped with the other Saghal allowed that glimmer of hope to hold. It was always there, keeping her grounded -- reminding her that there was a reason to temper herself. There were just a lot of things that Nomin had that she never said, and things she thought about that she felt should be said. She just hoped she could see Bayarmaa again to say all those things.

“Go…I’ll be right behind you,” Nomin said, parting from the others to see if she could find Turakina and others from the Sagahl tribe once more. The fire was spreading, and there were people hurriedly chasing dzo or sheep that had gotten loose. Horses were panicking from their stables that Nomin could hear, and she hoped that Che would not have trouble with getting two of them ready.

“Turakina!” Nomin called out again, gritting her teeth. Smoke was starting to waft thickly around the orda.

“Nomin?” came Turakina’s familiar voice.

Nomin’s heart leapt for joy hearing her, and she ran toward it as fast as she could. Her horse trotted along behind her, and she soon came across Turakina, who had been helping the other members of the Sagahl. Nomin recognized a couple of them, but she was more happy just seeing Turakina.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Che, Chotan, and Khulan are heading toward the stables and getting food. Please, go and do the same,” Nomin pleaded.

“Nomin… you…?” Turakina started, her mouth hanging agape in surprise. "What do you…are we to escape?"

“Yes!” Nomin felt that swell in her chest. She was proud of herself. "I rode free of the battle and came here as fast as I could. This was part of my plan to run and rejoin the rest of the Sagahl."

“... Why? They’re going to kill you if they ever find out it was you…!” Turakina exclaimed. “Why did you do this, Nomin?”

“I… I did this for you--! I did this for all of the Sagahl!” Nomin was taken aback and hurt that Turakina was expressing hesitation or disappointment, and was not overcome with some sense of relief, or kick to her survival instinct. “Please…just… They’re at war with the Kharlu, this is the perfect opportunity to run!”

Turakina pursed her lips, her fun-loving nature and personality having melted away in the years that she had to serve under the Jhungid colors. However, she considered Nomin’s plan and sighed with a furrow to her brow. Nodding, she looked at the other Sagahl.

“You’re right…even if we weren’t the ones to instigate this, we’ll be punished either way…” Turakina relented. “I’ll see what I can do, Nomin…”

Nomin gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and started to mount her horse. They would have to discuss this all more when things were calmer.

“Oh, and Nomin…” Turakina said, looking over her shoulder. The younger Xaela paused, looking down at Turakina curiously. “This was very stupid.”

A scoff left Nomin’s mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m well aware.”

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Thunder rumbled as magically manipulated or conjured rainclouds started to form. Spellcasters of the Jhungid that were back from the fight with the Kharlu were on the scene, it appeared. Though much too late for Nomin to care. After all, she had managed to get the other Sagahl prepped and ready to go before the others had gotten back from their conflict.

Ensuring that the Sagahl were saddled up and fleeing from the scene, Nomin stayed back in case she had to provide another distraction apart from the orda going up in smoke. However, her quick scan of the area saw that too many people were in a panic, and she, too, took her leave of the area, urging her horse out of the orda.

A smile grew on Nomin’s lips. She had done it. She had freed the Sagahl! Now that was left was to free the other tribes that had been--

Pain seared through Nomin’s shoulder as an arrow shot straight through it, lodging itself within.

Crying out, Nomin grit her teeth and dug her heels into the sides of her horse, urging it faster. Another searing pain, this time through her side as she rode.

More arrows flew past, attempting to strike Nomin down.

Nomin gripped the reins with what strength she had, fueled only by the adrenaline that had been present since before the fight with the Kharlu. She needed to ride with everything she had till she was far away. Even if the pain burned and would be something to deal with later, it was better than continuing to be merely a war pawn for the Jhungid.

Further and further she went. Nomin had only suffered the two arrows shot into her, and she cursed them with everything she had. However, she held fast to the thought that she had succeeded in what she vowed to do.

Bleariness started to settle in Nomin’s vision, her breath started to shorten, and her strength was slipping away the more she rode. Even if her mind was in protest, her body could not comply. Eventually… she slipped from her horse and rolled across the grass as her horse continued on. Reaching out, Nomin tried to call for her horse, but the words would not come.

Everything went dark.

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Someone was humming a soft and gentle tune, and a cool cloth was felt upon the skin of her face. Struggling to open her eyes, Nomin saw light filtering in through the top of the ger that she was in.

Panic hit her almost immediately as she sat up quickly. That was when pain coursed through her body; she winced and sharply sucked in air through her teeth to cope. Hitting a fist to the bedroll, Nomin gasped, keeping her guard up as best she could.

“Calm, child,” the humming woman spoke. She had been kneeling at the side of the bedroll that Nomin had been laying on. She reached out again and dabbed the damp, cool cloth against Nomin’s skin. “No one here is going to hurt you. We have been awaiting your wake.”

Bringing a hand to her shoulder, Nomin felt the bandages that were there, but she also felt the soreness of the wound that had been left behind. The same was true for the shot made to her abdomen.

“You suffered some nasty wounds. Not a true member of the Jhungid, are you…” the woman spoke, putting the damp cloth away and looking at Nomin. She was met by a shake of the teen’s head, which prompted a small smile from the woman. “You need not worry. The Gharl hold no allegiance to any one tribe. We will not be returning you to them -- we have even collected your horse. We found it grazing not that far from you when we were foraging.”

“Soil bearers?” Nomin managed, wincing again after she spoke. “I’m… relieved. What of the other Sagahl?”

“Ah…” The Gharl woman appeared to have her thoughts click into place. “We did see other riders on our journey. They kept riding in the direction of the Ceol Aen. Will you be joining them when you can walk?”

“That’s the plan…” Nomin confirmed. She furrowed her brow in thought before looking at the Gharli woman. “What’s your name?”

“Seruuntungalag,” the woman replied, pushing herself back up into a standing position. “But I understand it is quite long, and sometimes hard for others to say consistently. You may simply call me Seruun should it please you.”

A soft scoff left Nomin’s lips. “A pleasure to meet you. Wish it were under--” she winced as another searing bolt of pain hit with her minor adjustments, “--under better circumstances. My name’s Nomin.”

“It is good to meet you, Nomin,” Seruuntungalag replied, smiling warmly. “Though we are collecting earth in preparation for our next migration, it will be some time before we start. You should be well enough to walk and resume your way of life well before then. In the meantime, may you treat our iloh as your own.” Nomin looked up at Seruun, a little surprised. Truly, the Gharl were some of the most elegant and gracious of the Xaela that roamed the steppe. It was almost as if they had to be, as they were the ones, after all, who marked the start of the Naadam and the end of the Tsaagan Sar. Their role was vital, and their presence commanded respect  just as much as the Qestir or the Saghal.

They were largely non-combatants, as it were. As a people who united the lands in their own way, it was not often they went out of their way to spill blood. That was what Nomin remembered as a vague recollection somewhere in the back of her mind.

“The Gharl are very kind, Seruun…” Nomin replied, getting a feel for the Gharli woman's name in her mouth while breathing slowly so as not to agitate her abdominal wound. “I hope not to overstay my welcome, though. You can be assured--” she winced again. “--a-assured that I will be gone as soon as I can walk. You have my utmost thanks for your hospitality.”

A thought crossed Nomin’s mind, and she then pursed her lips. It was a thought that uneased her.

“What…what if the Jhungid come to you looking for me and want to instigate conflict?” Nomin asked, concerned not only for herself, but for the Gharl as well.

“They will see no mercy from Azim nor Nhaama. It seems that they suffered no mercy from the Saghal, either from what we have seen and have been told,” Seruun replied, a sly smile upon her lips as she looked back at Nomin. “I don’t know how long it took, how long you and the other Saghal endured…but it seems that the Gods deemed it right to see the Saghal freed.”

“If you say so,” Nomin replied with a bit of a wry smile in response. She laid back down on her bedroll, focusing on her breathing to keep her mind off the dull aches and pains. She did not believe the Gods had anything to do with her plan nor it coming to a head. Nomin believed that it was purely spite and good timing on her part.

Closing her eyes, Nomin continued to focus on her breathing while attempting to also keep her mind occupied with other scenes and scenarios. All she could focus on and hold onto for now was the image of the other Sagahl riding free across the grasslands. She hoped they made it somewhere safe. Somewhere where they could recuperate and get back to the main tribe.

Seruuntungalag was heard pouring a liquid into a container of one kind or another. A cup, Nomin figured, and she was right when she peeked over and saw Seruun return to her side with the proffered receptacle. Tentatively, Nomin took up the cup and was aided in her motion to sit up, if only slightly to drink of its contents.

The liquid started sweet before its bitter aftertaste clawed itself down Nomin's tongue and nearly made her wretch on the spot. She held her own, gagging at best before putting the cup down.

"By night's goo--ough--good graces, what the hell is in that!?" Nomin exclaimed, desperately dragging and scraping her tongue against her teeth to rid herself of the flavor and sensation that has blossomed throughout her mouth.

"That is typically the response one has when first taking that," Seruun giggled, taking the cup back while keeping Nomin upright. "It is unfortunate that the sweetness of the alyssum goes so far and only makes the initial imbibement tolerable."

"It tastes of yol piss and old sweaty smallclothes," Nomin complained, scrunching her nose.

"Yes, well…" Seruun started, getting Nomin laid back down. "I'll fetch you some water and aaruul to help with the taste. But the concoction you just drank should aid with your internal healing. It will wear you down and make you tired. It wouldn't be a surprise if you find yourself sleeping for bells upon bells as your body mends itself."

There was truth to the words. Nomin could already feel the weight of slumber pressing down upon her, but her body felt pleasant and warm. The aches of her wounds were an afterthought, light bruises that were only a minor inconvenience to the floating feeling that was starting to cushion her mind and body. It was intoxicating.

Her head felt weightless as she let it flop to the side as she watched Seruun put the cup away to fill another with water. Nomin was in a daze, her eyes locked on Seruun's tail until she turned around, and Nomin readjusted her dazed attention onto the shining brass baubles that glittered in the dim lighting that filtered through the ger's top.

"Here, your water…" Seruun said, bringing the cup to Nomin’s lips and sitting there to aid her.

"... Thanks…" Nomin said, tipping her head back into Seruuntungalag’s other hand and letting her help. It was an unusual experience to say the least -- that was what Nomin though, anyway. Especially as the cool water was perceived and felt going down her throat in this fog of weightlessness and feeling like her body was not fully in her control.

"Better?" Seruun asked after Nomin had finished half of her cup.

"Sleepy…water piss…" Nomin muttered, the pull of sleep being too great. Her eyes closed gradually and while she had little murmurings, those little indecipherable words gave way to deep breaths indicating slumber. Left with Nomin’s limp form, Seruun had put the cup down and laid her to rest more comfortably with a sheepish smile on her face.

[starrysnowdrop]

Reintroducing…

Kore Gharl AKA: Persie! 🥀

So, for those that have been around forever, like 3-4 years ago, you might remember her! Though Yume was my first WoL OC, my second was a Xaela woman Kore, but I lovingly called her Persie. She was originally of the Mol tribe, and she had pink hair and pink eyes. But since @meepsthemiqo asked about her lore the other day, I got brainworms and decided to recreate her and change up her looks and her lore a bit. So, here we go!

First, I changed her tribe to the Gharl tribe, as I thought it was fitting for her symbolism of being connected with the earth. Here’s the wiki entry for the Gharl, with a screenshot of the Gharl tribe from the cutscene of the Naadam:

Before each migration, the Gharl will fill a sacred urn with the soil of the place they just camped. This soil is then dumped upon arriving at the next location. This tradition has been carried out for thousands of years, leading people to believe that most the steppe is now all of one soil.

When the Tsagaan Sar ends, the Steppe holds a Naadam to decide who will be the new Khagan. The location of the dispute is revealed only at sunrise when the Gharl has scattered the soil.

Anyways, the next thing I decided to change was her looks, which I ultimately didn’t change much, outside of her hair and eyes. This is because she originally had pink hair almost identical in shade to Hali, but since I love Hali too damn much, and she is my only OC that I want to have pink hair, Persie had to get a makeover. I do think the brown hair and grassy green eyes are very earthy and suit her well.

Oh, and in case you’re noticing her name and nickname, yes, her Unsundered self is Persephone, and I had shipped her with Emet. I know I know, not the most original idea ever, but I tried to be a bit unique with her backstory.

Here’s a bit of her backstory, though I’m now reworking it so this is just a very short snippet: Kore was born to Arik and Zaya of the Gharl Tribe, and was their only child. Her mother died in childbirth and was raised solely by her father until he tragically passed away during a battle with a neighboring tribe, trying to protect her and the other children of the tribe. Due to the tragic loss of both of her parents at such a young age, she wanted to become a healer, and to save as many lives as she could. Kore is not a Warrior of Light like Hali is, but she does join the Scions in the course of the events of Stormblood. Her canon job is a hybrid job that I’m calling Shaman, and it’s a mixture of White Mage and Geomancer, with perhaps some other magic thrown in. I haven’t thought that through yet.

Oh and though we may all be hyped for Fanfest right now, feel free to send me asks about her if you’d like! She is also a new alt in game, which you can find her as Persephone Kore on Seraph (Dynamis, NA)! Thank you all so much for your interest in her! I might work on her more if I get more inspiration to.

[sezja]

Bless This Mess

[aedell]

𝓞𝓭𝓱𝔃𝓪𝔂𝓪 𝓖𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵 - 𝒜𝓇𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓅𝓅𝑒

I don’t know why, but my Odhzaya here instills something in me that makes me basically live in Gpose when I play her. I just want to take all the scenic photos with her. ♥

[mimble-sparklepudding]

FFXIV Swap Poem Thingy

I had the honour of being matched with the very marvellous @paintedscales for the FFXIV Swap. I really enjoyed learning about Nomin and her backstory and it's given me the opportunity to do a lot of background reading on Xaela lore and the history of the Azim Steppe. Definitely worth reading Nomin's Carrd if you want more detail on the events described below.

However I was a bit worried that a poem might not be as exciting as some of the beautiful artwork created by others for this project, so I took the liberty of commissioning a custom character banner for Nomin as a little extra.

Anyway Poetry Time (mostly under the cut as it's quite long).

The Nameless Child.

The nameless child, left by design,

Bound tight with rope to sacred pine,

As tribal customs did dictate,

But was resolved to change her fate,

And once she had her bonds untwined,

She chose to leave her tribe behind,

From that day forth, without regret,

She was no longer a Tumet.

Having swiftly named herself,

Quietly and with practiced stealth,

She made her way across the plains,

To the lone town the Steppe contains,

Where, seeing one so young exiled,

They grudgingly took in the child,

Gave her food and clothes withal,

And raised her as a young Saghal.

The traditions of this peaceful tribe,

Among many other things proscribe,

The killing or the subjugation,

Of beasts with whom they share creation,

And thus, bitter irony indeed,

The adherents of this gentle creed,

Were enslaved, or left for dead,

Their lives destroyed by the Jhungid.

Having beheld her brother slain,

She had to work quite hard to feign,

Any form of acquiescence,

As she grew through her adolescence,

Under the watchful, callous, eyes,

Of custodians who she despised,

So she knew exactly what to do,

When battle dawned with the Kharlu.

As each tribe faced the other’s host,

In battle for the Eastern coast,

She drew the arrow in her bow -

And turned her back upon the foe,

Without pause, without remorse,

She shot her leader from his horse,

Before riding back to burn their yurts,

Administering their just deserts.

Having freed her former tribe,

She knew that she must circumscribe,

Her kinship with them all thenceforth,

To keep them safe, so journeyed North,

And West across the Steppe alone,

In search of tribes as yet unknown,

And, from spending time with each,

She’d learn all that they had to teach.

Whether across a glacier,

Travelling with the Angura,

Or racing upon an Oroq Sled,

She absorbs all that they’ve done and said,

And be it Himaa, Gharl or Mol,

Each colour's blended in her soul,

And every one that she recalls,

Is carried forth in her footfalls.

(For those that are interested in such things I opted for rhyming couplets as the nearest form I could find to traditional Mongolian Epic Poetry (known as tuuli). There are six variations of narrative in these epics, and (extremely loosely) I opted for The Mythicised Epic, where the hero fights to restore order, as the basis for Nomin's tale. The most famous version of this narrative in Mongolian Folklore is the Epic of King Gesar, but there are lots of other ones. Definitely worth learning about if you enjoy cultural history.)

Many thanks to @paintedscales for their patience in waiting for me to pull my finger out and finish this - and also for helping me with the pronunciation of the various Xaela tribes with which Nomin has been associated. Needless to say, until this assistance, I was apparently getting most of them very wrong (aside from the Mol - I could manage that one!)

I hope you enjoy my silly poem and the nice Custom Banner!

[neriyon]

WoLs and FFXIV OCs

Hawu'li Puu • Keeper • 23 • he/him • WHM/SMN “Prelude in Violet” • Beloved main blorbo and the Warrior of Light. Cheerful, talkative catboy healer who loves food and the world. Wants to help everyone. Goodhearted but rather naiive. Bad with money. Will try to eat things not meant as food. Separation anxiety, cannot be left alone for too long. Part of a trio of co-WoLs who he met when first leaving Gridania. Gay and poly, usually shipped with various npcs. Server: Lich

Maito Tee • Raen • 19 • she/her • BLM “Of Stranger Shadow” • Oldest alt, originally made to be another WoL. Currently reclassified as a semi-retired Scion (she might be young but she’s way too tired of all this shit). Moody, introverted lizard girl who’s bad at expressing her emotions. Often comes across as rude or angry. Quick to resort to violence (“fire IV your way out of troubles”). Likes fancy desserts and soaking in hot springs. Currently taking time off to relax and spend time with family. Lesbian, not really shipped with anyone rn. Server: none

Yusui Kuura • Raen • 26 • he/him • AST “Finder of False Gods” • Maito’s older half-brother. Smug and provocative lizard with questionable morals who’s favorite way to pass time is to annoy others. Working in Glass Camellia - shop that’s antique store on paper but in reality sells various merc services for clients willing to spend the gil. Likes quality tea, peaches and strong reactions to his provocations. Rarely knows when to stop on time and ends up injured. Insomniac. Bi, possibly demiromantic - only shown romantic interest to his 2 childhood friends. Server: none

N'jinh Tia • Seeker • 27 • he/him • DRG/NIN “Imperial Nuisance” • Selfish, lazy cat who’s main talents are flirting and sweet talking. Prefers getting others to do things for him while napping in a nice spot, surrounded by expensive stuff given as gifts. Can’t swim, hates moogles. Mostly grew up in Garlemald. Worked as an imperial palace servant, sold bunch of secret info over to Eorzeans, got caught and had to run. Bi, no fixed ships currently. Server: Spriggan

Currently being reworked!

Naho Mewrilah • Keeper • 23 • she/her • DNC/BLM “Flamelady” • Selectively mute catgirl who likes dancing and performing. Bright, energetic and very free spirited. Grew up on a pirate ship, is currently travelling the land to see other cultures like her adventurer mother did before her. Great with animals. Scared of bugs. Friends with Maito. Bi, her relationship status is honestly a mystery. Server: Phoenix

Chiluku “Chili” Gharl • Xaela • ??? • he/him • DRK “Shadow of the Other” • Shy, anxious and clumsy max height au ra. Strong enough to carry huge sword around all day, but will accidentally knock over your flowerpot with his tail and then cry while repetedly saying sorry. Born as Kagon. Got kidnapped by garleans as a kid for having echo, devoleped “Sen” (Esteem) as a young adult and managed to fight his way out. Currently working as a bodyguard-for-hire in Glass Camellia. Bi, currently not dating anyone. Server: Moogle

Einn • Rava/Veena mix • ??? • he/him • RPR “Gatekeeper” • Viera who appeared from the forest during the events of Endwalker. Generally polite and princelike, but clearly avoids talking too much about his past. Sometimes gets strong personality shifts based on moon phase - he’ll get more aggressive, before dissapearing into the woods for a few days. During this time he’s known to cause trouble to anyone who dares enter “his” forest. Possibly tempered. Works as a gleaner post-EW. Gay, sometimes shipped with Erenville. Server: Twintania

Momoka “Momo” Komori • Raen(?) • ??? • they/them • SAM/NIN “Lullaby of a Departed Soul” • Mysterious nonbinary auri who pretty much counts as a cryptid. Appears randomly and leaves just as quick. Seems to have no loyalties towards any living being, though them appearing usually means there’s some ghost or demon involved. Part demon themself, often seen with huge white snake called “Emi”. Sexuality and relationship status are a mystery. Server: Twintania

Yulan Castalia • Veena • ??? • he/him • crafter/pictomancer "At Art's Horizon" • Introverted and a bit shy viera lad with a fondness for flowers, mammets and creating things. Mainly working as a goldsmith, but can do most crafting jobs - just don't ask him to cook. Likes to paint. Can't swim. Often hides when forced to talk to unfamiliar people. Temperamental and a bit of a tsundere. Gay, not shipped with anyone yet. Server: Zalera

Firn • Rava • few thousand years • he/him • Sword mage (pld x rdm) "Of Unbreakable Oath" • Cold, knightly viera with demeanor almost as icy as his namesake. Originally hailing from the Sixth, one of the rejoined shards, he is taken in to work with the ascians after the destruction of his home. Generally very aloof towards others, but for some reason seems to attract small animals. Fiercely loyal with a strong sense of personal moral code, he seems to now wander Eorzea in search of the reincarnation of a mysterious past charge, whom he seems to barely even remember. Server: Alpha

Edited 24/1: Added Firn and Yulan and marked N'jinh as under rework.

[jqupohtia]

I need to run and get the outfit for Poh but look at my lizard she’s so cute

[catsandlizards]

Sarangerel and her Kikyo

[crocutaqueen]

Inktober: DAY THIRTY ONE. YAY

Jack-o’-lantern:  An ogre pumpkin carved into a grinning face and boiled in a sweet sauce.

First time I actually managed to complete this thing so have many lizards as a finale. Left to right is Selahdis Gharl (mine), Yatu Qalli (my friends), Vega Tumet (also my friends), and Bahram Dotharl (mine again) getting in the spirit of All Saints Wake. 

Happy Halloween!

[cuffles]

I got a recent name change and fantasia for my Xaela. I’m quite happy with how she turned out. So I am re-introducing this character as Yesui Gharl!

[hierophant-x]

old sketch of my gharl geomancer/blacksmith i posted on twitter and got eaten up by the algorithm. pls look ✨

[paintedscales]

019. Mol

Visiting the Gharl, a Mol tribe member arrives bearing gifts. She claims she has come at the behest of her Gods, and Nomin wonders if it is some divine joke or not. However, despite her disdain for beings of a higher nature, Nomin starts her journey with this member of Mol.

Word Count: 3,311

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days with the Gharl, for the most part, ended up being rather monotonous. Of course, this came with the fact that Nomin was a prisoner of her bed more than anything. Especially with the 'yol piss' concoction she had been made to drink at least once a day. Though she had the freedom to get up and move around, it was the act of doing so that restricted her. Her wounds took time to heal, and day by day, she would do what she could to get up and at least keep what parts of her body she could move active.

The wound in her abdomen took the longest to heal versus the wound that affected her shoulder. Nomin would silently lament her temporary immobility, though she never pushed herself hard when she did want to move around. She tried that, and it opened her wounds to where Seruuntungalag had to come back and change her sutures and bandages so that she did not bleed out.

Nomin met another Gharl tribe member -- a man who was one of the tribe’s mystics. Toghon was his name, and he often channeled his aether to help Nomin’s wounds heal. The use of the magic felt warm and right, though it wore her out more than anything. At least it did not fog her mind like the medicinal drink. Evidently, whenever Toghon would use magic like that, it would speed up Nomin’s use of natural healing that consumed her own stamina. Once she learned of that, she understood now why Toghon had to pad out his time in meeting with her and employing his magic.

On most days, Nomin had rested, sleeping a couple bells at a time if she were not under the medicinal influence of the potion Seruun brought her. She woke to take care of business, eat, stretch, and sometimes draw. That last one was something that she appreciated and was grateful to the Gharl for going out of their way to allow her to do. Training and living among the Jhungid saw her doing very little of that, though she had done her best when and where she could.

Once Nomin had been able to get up and walk without so much soreness hampering her was the day that she had an unexpected visitor. She had started getting her horse ready to get going to meet with the other Sagahl when she overheard one of the Gharl speaking with someone else not of their tribe. Apparently a member of the Mol had traveled all the way to their current iloh in order to trade wool -- it was as the Gods decreed, apparently.

“This wool will be made into wonderful blankets and coats for the winter. The Gharl are grateful for this gift from the Mol,” the Gharl who had been undergoing the trade said. The Mol smiled and bowed politely in response.

“I do have some more,” the Mol woman said. “However, the Gods said that I would gift this to a child of many colors while I am here. The udgan was quite particular about that peculiar aspect.”

“You must mean the Sagahli child that escaped the Jhungid.”

“If that is how they identify themselves, then yes.”

Nomin, her interest piqued, had walked over in Gharl colors rather than Jhungid. The reins of her horse were loosely grasped in her hand, and her bag of belongings was lazily slung over her shoulder. While she would have worn Sagahl colors any other time, she had no access to them. Luckily, her request for Gharl colors fell on sympathetic ears.

“I overheard,” Nomin said, announcing her presence to the Gharl and Mol Xaela. She took a brief moment to observe the newcomer, taking in the swirl of her rather large horns. “My name is Nomin, and I am a child of the Steppe. I bear the Gharl colors today and am grateful to them for allowing me to deny the colors of the Jhungid. My heart’s colors ever fall under the Sagahl, and have since I shed my adolescent colors of the Tumet.”

The Gharl trader bowed and took their leave of the conversation, returning to whatever other chores they had in ensuring their trade made it to weaver hands. Meanwhile, the Mol smiled at Nomin and resisted the urge to reach up and place her hands on either side of Nomin’s cheeks. She drew her hands together before offering a smaller bow of the head in greeting.

“A vast many colors than many Xaela to be sure…” the Mol woman replied, taking the wool she had on hand and offering it to Nomin. It was neatly tied together, and the former Tumet accepted the bundle before she went to secure it on the back of her saddle. The Mol woman cleared her throat gently and continued: “my name is Narantuyaa. I am to journey with and guide you across the Ceol Aen.”

“A missive from the Gods, is it?” Nomin asked. Though she had lost her faith in the gods as a general thing, she questioned Narantuyaa with no animosity nor malice. She had been genuinely curious. Plus…it was not as if she wanted to actively disrespect members of a tribe whose whole way of life relied on these messages from the Gods for just about everything they did. It would be just as rude (though less deadly) as telling a Dotharl that their belief in reincarnation is false.

“Yes. The udgan said to travel to the Gharl and trade them our wool. She also told me that in my journey, I would meet a child of the steppe who has worn many colors, and that I must guide them across the Ceol Aen. To what end, I know not, but I do know that it is what I must do,” Narantuyaa elaborated.

Nodding in acknowledgement, Nomin kept to herself as she finished securing the bundle of wool. Her bow and quiver hung off the side of her horse, and she considered swapping it out for the bag upon her back so that she was at least equipped with something. If she needed to hunt, then that was what she was going to do.

“Nomin.” Seruuntungalag’s familiar voice caused both Nomin and Narantuyaa to look in her direction. The woman of the Gharl held two carefully wrapped parcels and offered it to both of them.

Reaching out with her right hand, Nomin accepted the parcel graciously, even if she did not know what was within. Likewise, Narantuyaa did the same, grasping the package with both of her hands and bowing.

“Thank you, Seruun.” Nomin turned the parcel over in her hands. “May I ask what this is?”

“I have prepared for you both some rations: aaruul, borts, and some blyasag. The aaruul is made with chatsargana, and the borts is a combination of mutton and horse. As for the blyasag, we use our sheep’s milk to make it. May it serve you both well on your journey.”

Nomin’s mouth fell slightly agape, considering the rations that were given to both her and Narantuyaa. She bowed more deeply to Seruun, feeling her heart swell with a heavy sense of gratefulness. Though she had eaten okay with the Jhungid because she had to, getting such things from the Gharl felt like too much, especially with how they had cared for her for several suns while she healed.

“I will not forget this, nor what you and the Gharl have done for me, Seruuntungalag,” Nomin said, addressing Seruun with respect as she rose back up with a warm smile on her face. "If ever I find a way to repay this kindness, I shall do it."

"I ask that you be well on your journey, Nomin of the Steppe," Seruun replied with a warm smile. "Think not on how to thank us, instead remember that as we unite the land, we as travelers and residents of this land must also remain united in some fashion. Care for your fellow siblings of the Steppe. Allow your colors to unite you to not only your people, but who you are -- who you are meant to be."

Nomin stayed quiet, thinking about Seruun's words. Many different responses swirled in her thoughts, but she eventually elected to dismiss them so as not to stay overlong in her mind. Raising her gaze to meet the Gharli woman's own, Nomin gave a definitive nod.

"I'll keep that in mind. I wish you, Toghon, and all the Gharl wellness and safety."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So… does your horse have a name?” Narantuyaa asked on their journey toward the Ceol Aen. They had been several bells on their excursion thus far.

Nomin shrugged. She never really considered giving her horse a name. When she was forcibly part of the Jhungid, she never even expected to get one. The horse had been earned through sheer tenacity and feat of strength, speed, and dexterity.

All part of the act. A reward that was put into consideration for her grand plan.

“I don’t--I mean, ‘Horse’, I guess…” Nomin replied. It was half true. Any time she saw her horse was when she trained for archery or spearmanship on horseback. Giving it a name just felt...unnecessary. Maybe it would have died in combat. Maybe it would have been slaughtered for meat to feed the warriors. There were too many unknown variables at the time.

“‘Horse’?” Narantuyaa sounded shocked.

“Well I don’t know, what would you name it?” Nomin asked somewhat indignantly, glancing at Horse. She never bothered too much with the details, either, in the past. Now that she had this horse and evidently was going to keep it, she took in more of its appearance while she and Narantuyaa walked together on foot while the horse carried both their belongings to relieve them of the burden.

“Hmm…” Narantuyaa looked at Horse. As she walked, she leaned over and around, making sure to assess Horse accordingly. Horse was a male, silky dun-colored horse with a short cut black mane and tail. His legs had black hoof to knee stockings on all four legs, and a white snip marking on his nose.

“What about Ünegüi?” Narantuyaa suggested after a long while. “The horse is clearly one bred for the likes of the Jhungid…but I think it also tells a wonderful story if they were your companion when you fled. Riding your way to freedom?”

Nomin looked at the Mol and then scoffed in amusement. Though she did consider it heavily, that much was evident by how her tail stilled, and a pensive expression befell her face. It was something that she liked the idea of. However, she shrugged again and finally made her reply, “I’ll have to think about it. I like it. For now, I’ll stick with ‘Horse’.”

Narantuyaa chuckled gently, and silently kept walking alongside the other two.

Conversation was sparse between them, though when it happened, it was often Narantuyaa that instigated. Nomin did not mind by any means. She had little she wanted to talk about and recall -- especially since the last five years of her life were occupied by mostly training and the desire for both revenge and setting her people free. Now that she had achieved part of her revenge and knew that her people rode free, she felt fulfilled, but also somewhat empty.

“Do you still eat meat?” was one of Narantuyaa’s questions on the journey.

“I do.”

“Really? I thought you might have given that up when you joined the Sagahl.”

“For a time, sometimes. Our time with the Jhungid didn’t allow us to be picky. We had to eat what we could when we were given anything. It was only fortunate for the Sagahl there that they were permitted to hunt and forage. Since the Jhungid forced the Sagahl to use their knowledge for the benefit of their tribe, being able to forage allowed a lot of them to retain their tribal way.”

Nomin idly switched her hands that were holding Horse’s reins.

“Besides, even if I am an accepted part of the Sagahl and wear their colors proudly, I am yet a child of the steppe. My time with the Sagahl was never meant to be permanent… I’m…I’m glad and grateful they took me in after my Tumet trial…” Nomin said, admitting some things she had buried away for a while. After all, it was not like the Jhungid were interested in any life story of hers. Narantuyaa had just been asking a number of questions already, and Nomin had been humoring her to the best of her ability.

“The Sagahl are certainly family, make no mistake…” Nomin continued, trying to find her words. “But my heart yearns for more. To learn more, to see more, to travel more. I proved to myself that I am worthy of life… and I intend to live that life.”

“Amazing…” Narantuyaa breathed. “I see now why the Gods bade me to lead you through the Ceol Aen. You have already lived through many hardships that many would be grateful to know they did not live themselves. A hard perspective to wrap one’s head around from my limited experience, but admirable all the same.”

Nomin remained silent. Something about being placed highly in someone’s thoughts or list when it came to living life seemed…odd. She was simply worthy of life. She fought for it. Just as nearly every Xaela alive did in their own ways. From birth for some, from their tenth summer for others, from the moment they step from the safety of their iloh or orda for many, and moments away from actual death for those who refused to meet with it.

"The Gods…" Nomin quietly started, training her eyes ahead of herself to keep them focused on the trail before them. "How do the Gods decide what is right, wrong, or otherwise, I wonder…"

"It's not really our place to ask," Narantuyaa replied, bringing a finger to her chin in thought. "Do the Sagahl pray to or commune with the Gods at all? I suppose I never really imagined it was not a common practice outside of the Mol. That nearly every tribe has a God or Gods they pray to, commune with, or even receive blessings from."

Nomin gave another shrug of her shoulders while shaking her head this time. A confused scoff was given at first in response before the former Tumet went ahead and gave proper thought to the question: "I…I don't know. My brother and sister never really made an effort to revere Azim nor Nhaama. Nor did we really pray to other Gods that I know of…"

"And your parents?" Narantuyaa looked at Nomin curiously, but had been met with a distant gaze and silence.

“I don’t…I don’t have any,” Nomin finally replied after some time.

“Oh…” Narantuyaa uttered. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s fine. I was trying to figure out how to answer you. I have…I guess I have parents, technically. But…I was born of Tumet. I left their tribe. Their way. Who would be considered my mother and father in that sense may still remain among them. They may not. I don’t know. I don’t really care.”

Silence filled the air between them once again, only their footsteps in the grass being the sound that greeted their horns. It seemed the topic as a whole made Narantuyaa reconsider some of what she could touch upon or ask about without leaving the conversation feeling awkward about the interaction. However, she thought back to what sparked the conversation in the first place and cleared her throat.

“Um…is there a reason that you ponder what you do about the Gods?” Narantuyaa asked.

“I’d rather not risk offending you. I’ll only leave it at the fact that I believe the Gods seem to have a cruel sense of humor.”

Silence yet again.

"... We are said to be children of Nhaama, are we not?" Nomin finally posited with a sigh, stopping. Narantuyaa paused as well, looking at the former Tumet. There was a bemused expression upon her face as she pursed her lips with a trepidatious nod in response.

"That…that is what the legends and stories tell us, yes," Narantuyaa slowly affirmed.

"So…if we're made in their image…" Nomin went on, her eyes going to the ground. She did her best not to think about what remarks she had endured growing up. Endured as a child among the Tumet. Endured during her time with the Jhungid as 'Broken Scale.'

She let out an annoyed sigh and continued: "... I always wondered why She would make ones like us. Is it a means to show us that even they are infallible? Or is it to ensure that I and others like myself are given hardships that must be overcome? Is it a way to temper us? To break us? To see if we grow so weary as to give up, or to see if we'll keep crawling forward?"

The questions and considerations that had been built up over years had spilled forth. Nomin’s brow had set in a furrow, and her eyes locked onto a specific patch -- a specific blade -- of grass at her feet. Her hand gripped Horse’s reins tightly, her knuckles paling.

"... I…" the Mol teen was stunned by the questions she was made audience to. She never had these questions, these considerations. She never had a reason to ask herself -- or anyone -- these questions. Life among the Mol had been a case of communing with the Gods and listening to Them, doing what They bade them without question.

Narantuyaa drew her hands together, her tail curling to the side as she gave deeper thought to the questions. She had not really minded Nomin’s appearance: the noticeable blue marks that lined her scales. They were far more apparent than some small horn or tail discoloration that were a little more common among auri people. But they were colors that took away from the scales of pitch night of the Dusk Mother that many Xaela wore with pride.

"... Sometimes…" Narantuyaa quietly spoke up, putting her thoughts together as best she could. "Sometimes the Gods give us tasks that we are meant to fail. I…I know that maybe that's not the same compared to feeling like maybe they have something against you or you simply existing…. Sometimes They give us journeys to undertake so that we…"

Narantuyaa paused, looking up at Nomin, her mouth slightly agape. It seemed she had her own realization.

"S-So that we might learn aught of ourselves, but also about the land around us. The…" Narantuyaa slowly neared Nomin. "The people before us, the people we meet or have yet to meet. I…I know not what the Gods have in store for you, Nomin of the Steppe."

Narantuyaa offered an efforted, sheepish smile.

"But you're here, are you not? You healed from the wounds you sustained. You walk, free from ties that would see you restricted in some way." The Mol laced her fingers with one another, attempting a reassuring expression for Nomin, who looked back at her with an inquisitive quirk to her brow.

"I…guess…" Nomin slowly replied, tugging on Horse’s reins and continuing to walk. Narantuyaa followed alongside them. As they continued on their venture, the former Tumet glanced back at her Mol peer and continued, "but I suppose it is also possible that I paint my own canvas, free of the Gods' will. Respectfully, that is what I choose to believe."

Nodding, Narantuyaa fell back into silence. Neither of them spoke with malice nor animosity toward one another. While Nomin may have been frustrated, Narantuyaa did her best to simply listen and understand why she had these questions; why she felt the way she did. Though both of them had few answers for the time being, they walked ever onward.

[veliona-xiv]

I have often dreamed... Of a far off place.

[sezja]

He is the Snow Princess. ❄️

[ofawitheredrose]

“ NUGAI DORTHAL! After ALL this time--” -Tuya,

“ Eh, what... T-Tuya—you here... of all places...?” -Nugai.

[moonlightpaladin]

Xaela Tribes

Sourced from here. I wanted to have these in one place to reference.

Adarkim: The largest of the Xaela tribes. While not the most skilled at battle, they overwhelm with numbers, taking losses in stride, knowing that a future victory over a weaker tribe will replenish their ranks.

Angura: A small tribe which keeps mainly to the mountainous region of northeastern Othard. The glare reflected by the everlasting glaciers upon which they travel has rendered this tribe's skin color a deep rusty tone.

Arulaq: A tribe thought lost 200 years ago, only recently discovered once again living in a secluded valley in the mountainous north.

Avagnar: Though defeated and absorbed by the Adarkim, several of the proud tribe's members still secretly use its ancestral name, knowing that it could mean death if they are discovered.

Bairon: A middle-sized tribe of the southern deserts and masters of survival in the driest of climes, the Bairon are all trained from a very young age to collect and drink their own bodily fluids, allowing them the ability to venture deep into places no other tribe will.

Bayaqud: A tribe of the steppe's western edges. Women from the Bayaqud tribe will traditionally take several husbands, as did the tribe's founding matron 2000 years ago.

Bolir: A small tribe that earns its living by collecting the dung of the beastkin herds which roam the steppes. The dung is dried, turned into charcoal in temporary kilns, and sold to other tribes.

Borlaaq: A tribe of all women. While breeding with men from other tribes is allowed, if a male is born into the tribe, he is given up within a year of birth.

Buduga: An all-male tribe which only increases its ranks through battle and kidnapping.

Chaghan: An offshoot of the Qerel tribe, these warriors enter a berserker rage known as the Will of Karash, which they believe to be a blessing from the Dusk Mother. They commit all manner of heinous acts when Karash takes hold, and some would even slay their own kin and claim it in the name of Mother Nhaama.

Dalamiq: One of only a few Xaela tribes which has abandoned the nomadic lifestyle and built a small village on an islet in the middle of a two-malm-wide span of the great inner river. It is said they once worshipped the now-fallen lesser moon.

Dataq: The Dataq cover quite possibly the most area in their migrations, for they rarely stop in one area for longer than a few bells. Sleeping is all done in the saddle, and tents are only used when the rains are heavy and unbearable.

Dazkar: Household duties such as cooking, cleaning, and childrearing are handled by the males of the Dazkar who, other than when on the move, rarely ever leave their family's yurts. Female Dazkar are tasked with hunting, and are known across the steppe as being some of the most accurate archers in the realm.

Dhoro: An elusive tribe that avoids contact with most other tribes. Lookouts are posted all about their camps with orders to flee given the moment an outsider is spotted.

Dotharl: An extremely violent tribe with members who revel in massacre and are taught from a young age not to fear death. While they are quick to attack other tribes, mortality rates are high, ensuring that their numbers never grow too high.

Ejinn: A river tribe that chooses to swim from place to place rather than walk or take boats. It is said that members of the Ejinn can hold their breaths for up to a quarter bell, and will often migrate while almost completely submerged in order to avoid contact with hostile tribes.

Geneq: In addition to the standard language used by most of the Xaela in cross-tribe communication, the Geneq employ a complex system of whistles and clicks which resemble the cloud- and wavekin of the steppe.

Gesi: The Gesi are masters of the slingspear, a mid-sized javelin carved from mammoth bone which, instead of being thrown by hand, is flung with a leather sling to improve range, speed, and killing power.

Gharl: Before each migration, the Gharl will fill a sacred urn with the soil of the place they just camped. This soil is then dumped upon arriving at the next location. This tradition has been carried out for thousands of years, leading people to believe that most the steppe is now all of one soil.

Goro: The Goro believe horses to be perfect beings, and each male and female, upon their coming of age, is married to a horse of the opposite sex. Reproductive mates are chosen by lots.

Haragin: The legends of this coastal tribe tell of a group of their ancestors who crafted a giant ship and sailed out across the endless eastern ocean. The explorers are said to have returned with tales of a terrible island covered in massive grey monoliths and inhabited by fire-breathing steel demons.

Himaa: For reasons unknown, one out of every three pregnancies amongst the Himaa result in twins. As a result, over half the tribe's members have a doppelganger. This can prove an advantage during attacks, as it confuses the enemy into believing the dead have risen.

Horo: To those who live the meager lifestyles of the steppedwellers, being overweight is a symbol of affluence and power. To appear heavier than one in their station, the members of Horo will drink copious amounts of water to bloat their bellies.

Hotgo: A tribe recently massacred by the Dotharl. The only members surviving are those who left the tribe to travel on their own and were not present during the killing. The Hotgo were known for their vibrant face paints which members would constantly change depending on their current mood.

Iriq: A tribe that follows the Borlaaq, taking on any male children given up by the female warriors and raising them as their own.

Jhungid: The second largest Xaela tribe. Mortal enemies with the Kharlu, the Jungid will spend the greater part of the year subjugating smaller tribes to swell their own ranks in preparation for an annual battle with the Kharlu—the winner gaining control over a large part of the eastern coastlands.

Kagon: The Kagon are a nocturnal desert tribe who worship Nhaama, goddess of the moon and mortal enemy of Azim, god of the sun. Instructed by their goddess that to step into the sun is to succumb to the evil of Azim, they spend the daylight hours in their tents, only emerging to hunt and migrate at night. The result is an uncharacteristically pale skin for a group of people living in an almost eternally fair-weather locale.

Kahkol: A tribe made up of orphans and refugees from tribes defeated or destroyed. Many choose to combine the name of their old tribe with Kahkol.

Kha: Unlike most of the Xaela, the Kha live on the fringes of the Xaela lands, actively seeking contact with non Auri peoples, introducing many aspects of those cultures into their own.

Kharlu: The third largest Xaela tribe. Mortal enemies with the Jungid, the Kharlu will spend the greater part of the year subjugating smaller tribes to swell their own ranks in preparation for an annual battle with the Jungid—the winner gaining control over a large part of the eastern coastlands.

Khatayin: A tribe which largely remains unseen, hunting goats in the mountains for nine moons of the year. The remaining three are spent at the foot of the great north range, where they survive off the dried meat they stocked.

Malagud: One of the only tribes that accepts people of the Raen—those that have been exiled, or those who have fled persecution—into their circle.

Malqir: A western steppe tribe characterized by its unique leader-choosing ritual which, instead of the usual test of brawn, is a game of Kharaqiq—a chess-like game played on a circular board divided into three rings.

Mankhad: A costal tribe which fights with blow-darts made from bones dipped in the poison of the pufferfish. So practiced with the pipes are the tribe, that they can disable a target from 200 paces.

Mierqid: A desert tribe which, over the course of a year, travels between over a hundred secret buried caches of supplies restocked with each annual visit.

Moks: A tribe invisible for the fact that its members are spread out across many different tribes (unbeknownst to those tribes). Communication between its members is done on the rare occasion when two tribes meet, through an ancient set of hand signals only recognizable by those who know what they are looking for.

Mol: A small tribe of devout worshippers of the elder gods, the Mol will consult with their deities (via a shaman conduit) before making any tribe-related decisions, from the direction of their next migration, to the beasts they will hunt each day for food.

Noykin: Master trainers of the wild horses which populate the majority of steppe. It is said that the horsewives of the Noykin can break any beast if given but a week.

Olkund: Selective breeding has seen the average height of the central steppe-dwelling Olkund tribe males reach over two and a half yalms. The females, for whatever reason, remain of an average height.

Orben: A tribe that rides up and down the great inner river on boats woven from reeds and reinforced with scales from their own skin.

Orl: A tribe that fled Othard in the wake of Garlean occupation. Several of the Orl found their way to the highlands of Coerthas but misconceptions of Au Ra being of Dravanian descent led Ishgardian soldiers to slaughter them indiscriminately. There is only known to be one survivor of this tribe.

Oronir: All members of the Oronir tribe believe themselves to be direct descendants of Azim, the tribe's god of the sun.

Oroq: The Oroq create sleds made of reeds dipped in horse fat to help move their possessions and young children about the inner grasslands.

Qalli: Also known as the songbirds of the steppe, the Qalli communicate through song, attaching a melody to their words to further add emotion to the meaning.

Qerel: The warriors of this tribe all wear complete suits of armor crafted from the bones of steppe tigers which they kill with their own hands upon their coming of age.

Qestir: This tribe refuses to speak, believing that all words are lies, and that a man's actions are the purest form of communication.

Sagahl: A tribe which sees all beastkin as equals with man, therefore refuses to eat or use them as beasts of burden. As a result, the diet of the Sagahl mainly consists of steppe shrubs and vilekin.

Torgud: This desert tribe does not wear any clothes, choosing instead to cover their bodies almost entirely in a white paint created from mud, lime, and bone meal. The paint helps to reflect the relentless desert sun.

Tumet: The children of the Tumet, upon seeing their tenth summer, are tied to a sacred tree while the remainder of the tribe packs up and moves to their next location. Those children who manage to break free from their bonds and catch up with the tribe at that next location, are given a name and allowed into the tribe.

Ugund: When members of this tribe die, their heads are removed from their bodies and placed in a jar of fermented goat milk. Once the liquid has been drunk by the head (in other words, evaporated), the head is then buried under an anthill so that the tiny workers can carry the spirit to the afterlife. The journey is thought to be a terrible one, the road filled with ghosts of the damned, so ensuring the spirit is drunk helps ease the journey.

Ura: This mountain-dwelling tribe is one of the few which instead of hunting, mine the precious ores of the peaks and trade them with the steppe tribes for food.

Urumet: This desert tribe has the queer custom of travelling with their elders carried upon their shoulders. It is believed that in the flat desert, this gives the tribe the advantage of being able to see farther.

Uyagir: One of a handful of Xaela tribes which have given up the nomadic lifestyle. The Uyagir reside in a system of limestone caves on the northern edge of the southern deserts which are believed to have been dug by a race of giant oliphant-like beetles which were placed on the land by the gods to punish the elder tribes that had grown too greedy.