theblackbookofarkera

[theblackbookofarkera]

Crown of Marek the Mad

A circlet of pure electrum, deceptively delicate in its crafting, etched with writhing sigils in a script that burns the eyes of those who study it too long. The crown was commissioned by Marek, Heretic-Sage of the Seventh Storm, in his quest to commune directly with Abdikhur. Its creation required the melting down of lightning-struck temple bells and the blood of seven storm-priests.

When placed upon a living head, the crown's sigils pulse with sickly light as it fuses permanently to the skull. Metallic tendrils spread through the bearer's flesh like roots, eventually reaching the heart. Victims report visions of storms that have not yet happened and hearing voices in the thunder. Many are driven mad within days, though some survive longer, becoming living conduits for strange storm magick.

The only known method of removal is death - the crown can then be pried from the corpse along with portions of the skull, the metallic tendrils withdrawing like dying vines. The crown has claimed seventeen recorded victims since Marek's death, though the Heretic Sages believe there are more undocumented cases.

The crown currently resides in the deepest vaults of the Sepulcher of Seven Thunders, sealed behind wards of black lightning. Even there, it is said to whisper promises of power to those who pass too near its chamber.

"The crown shows us what we were meant to see. The price is merely everything you are." - Final words of an unnamed sage

[theblackbookofarkera]

Heretics of the Seventh Sanctum

Deep in the sun-scorched mountains of Ak-Saaka, where the very rocks weep poison and the winds whisper secrets best left unspoken, dwell the Heretic Sages of the Seventh Storm. These fallen priests, once servants of conventional storm cults, now pursue forbidden knowledge of Abdikhur's true nature through means that would horrify their former brethren.

Their fortress-monastery, known as the Sepulcher of Seven Thunders, is carved into the living rock of the mountains. The twisting passages are an intricate maze of death, where every shadow conceals a lethal trap. The outer chambers bristle with the fangs of desert vipers, bred for generations to guard the sages' secrets. These serpents, touched by dark magick, have evolved to survive without food, sustaining themselves on the residual energy of nearby ritual chambers.

Ancient sigils pulse with malevolent power along the walls, their eldritch geometries burning patterns into the minds of uninvited guests. Some intruders have been found wandering the desert weeks later, their sanity shattered, mindlessly tracing these symbols in the sand until death claims them. The more fortunate ones are those killed quickly by the conventional traps - pressure plates that loose storms of poisoned darts, false floors opening to pits lined with crystallized lightning, and corridors that flood with burning sand.

In the deepest chambers, accessible only through a series of ceremonial gates each requiring blood sacrifice, lie the true treasures of the Heretic Sages. Here they keep their most blasphemous artifacts: the Obsidian Codex, whose pages are said to contain storms caught in mid-strike; the Crown of Marek the Mad, still bearing scorch marks from the lightning that hollowed his skull; and the Mirror of First Rains, which shows reflections of storms that haven't happened yet.

The central chamber houses the Altar of the Seventh Storm, a massive block of black stone veined with frozen lightning. It is here that the sages conduct their most terrible rituals, attempting to commune directly with Abdikhur through sacrifice and storm-calling. The chamber's ceiling opens to the sky, and it is said that during their ceremonies, storms form in clear skies and lightning strikes upward from the altar into the heavens.

The sages themselves are changed by their pursuits. Years of exposure to corrupted storm magick has left them something less and more than human. Their flesh bears branching scars like lightning strikes, which glow with an inner light during storms. Their eyes have become swirling voids of grey, and their voices echo like distant thunder. They no longer need mortal sustenance, feeding instead on the energy of the storms they summon.

Few seek out the Heretic Sages willingly, and fewer still return. Those who do speak of witnessing rituals where living lightning is bound into human flesh, of libraries whose books write themselves during storms, and of chambers where rain falls sideways and lightning moves slow enough to touch. The sages accept payment only in secrets or sacrifices, and their knowledge always comes with a terrible price.

"The path to true understanding of the First Storm requires that we become like the storm itself - boundless, merciless, and free from mortal constraints. Our methods are considered heretical only because others lack the courage to grasp these higher truths." - From the writings of Sage Karthikhar the Thunderbound

The Heretic Sages are tolerated by local authorities only because the few who have attempted to dislodge them have met spectacular and horrific ends. The last such attempt, by the army of a particularly zealous prince, ended when a storm of black lightning reduced his forces to glass statues that still stand in the desert, their faces frozen in eternal screams.

Popular rumor suggests that the sages know the true name of the entity that created Abdikhur, but such knowledge, if it exists, is kept in their most closely guarded vault, protected by wards that would unmake reality itself if breached improperly.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Abdikhur

Before time drew its first breath, before the void knew darkness, an unknowable entity whose true name is whispered only in Abdikhur's dreams birthed the First Storm into existence. This being, Abdikhur, would become king of the Erukish pantheon, creator of all things, and father to the younger gods who now wage their petty wars across creation. From his throne of living lightning, Abdikhur watches the realms of gods and mortals with distant contempt, intervening only when their follies grow too grotesque to ignore.

The priests of the Erukish faith paint Abdikhur as a god of storms and divine wrath, though this is a paltry attempt to comprehend his true nature. He is the First Storm, the original force of chaos and creation that existed before reality crystalized into its current form. The storms he commands are merely echoes of his own essence, pale shadows of the primal tempest that birthed existence.

His interventions in mortal affairs are legendary for their savage creativity - entire civilizations drowned in storms of burning blood, mountains unmade by thunderbolts that screamed with the voices of the damned, armies transmuted into pillars of salt that weep black tears for eternity. When Abdikhur deigns to manifest in the mortal realm, he takes forms that mortal minds struggle to comprehend: a storm of obsidian lightning that forms a crown of thorns around a void of absolute darkness, a pillar of storm clouds that bleeds molten gold and speaks in thunderclaps, or a maelstrom of crystallized time that ages everything it touches into dust or reverts it to primordial ooze.

Few dare to worship Abdikhur directly. Most approach him through his children, the younger gods, knowing that drawing his direct attention is more curse than blessing. Those mad few who do establish direct cults to the First Storm rarely survive their first attempt to summon his presence. The most common offerings to Abdikhur are the ritual burning of storm-struck trees, the sacrifice of white bulls during thunderstorms, the preservation and veneration of fulgurite formations, and the collection of rain from the first storm of spring in ceremonial bowls of black iron.

When Abdikhur's attention turns to the mortal realm, reality itself shudders in recognition. Storms form crowned shapes in the clouds, lightning strikes in impossible patterns leaving scorch marks in ancient languages, thunder sounds like distant laughter or screaming, rain falls upward, animals flee for no apparent reason, and the air tastes of metal and ozone for days. His symbols include the Crown of Storms (a circlet of lightning bolts), the Obsidian Throne (said to be carved from solidified darkness), the First Rain (drops of molten gold falling upward), and the Deep Sign (a spiral of seven lightning bolts radiating from a central void).

I discovered a fragment from the forbidden texts of Marek the Shattered, Heretic-Sage of the Seventh Storm, that reads: "I have seen His true form only once, in the heart of a storm that should not have been. I pray daily that I will forget what I witnessed there." The sage was found weeks later, his body perfectly preserved but his skull hollowed out as if struck by lightning from within.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Lake Hali

In the age before the Judgement, Lake Hali stood as a jewel in the crown of the Old World, its crystalline waters so pure that on still days one could see straight to its marble-white bottom despite its tremendous depth. The lake's waters held such potency that even a single sip was said to cure ailments that had plagued sufferers for years. Pilgrims traveled from across Arkera to bathe in its sacred waters, and many of the Old World's most renowned healing temples were built along its shores.

The legends tell that the lake's purity stemmed from its origins - it was said to have been formed from a single tear shed by a nameless god of life in the world's first age. The waters possessed a subtle luminescence, creating patterns of light that healers would study for omens and guidance. Fish with scales like polished silver swam in its depths, and flowers that bloomed nowhere else in creation grew along its banks, their petals translucent as dewdrops in morning light.

When the Judgement came and scarred the world, Lake Hali endured. While the surrounding lands were blasted into wasteland, the lake's waters remained pristine, its healing properties actually intensified by the catastrophe. It became a sanctuary for survivors, its waters helping to cleanse the taint of the Judgement from those lucky enough to reach its shores. For centuries after the fall of the Old World, Lake Hali served as proof that not all divine grace had abandoned the world.

Then came Mazar ka-Sarno, a sorcerer whose brilliance was matched only by his ambition. Ka-Sarno had become obsessed with summoning Slytha Vermus, an outer god of corruption and forbidden knowledge. In his studies, ka-Sarno had discovered that the most powerful rituals of summoning required the corruption of something pure - and what in all of Arkera was purer than Lake Hali?

The ritual he devised was an abomination of sorcery, designed to transform the lake's sacred waters into a gateway through which Slytha Vermus could enter our world. Ka-Sarno spent years preparing, inscribing the lake bed with enormous sigils that could only be seen from certain angles in certain lights, and positioning crystalline resonators around the shore that would amplify the power of his incantations.

On the night of the summoning, witnesses from miles around reported seeing lights like fever dreams dancing above the lake's surface. The water began to move in patterns that defied natural law, forming shapes that hurt the eye to look upon. Ka-Sarno's voice, magically amplified by his preparations, echoed across the water in languages that were never meant for human tongues to speak.

But something went wrong. Whether ka-Sarno made a mistake in his calculations or whether divine protection still lingered in the lake's waters, the ritual failed catastrophically. Instead of opening a gateway, the magic turned inward, corrupting the very essence of the lake. The pure waters turned black as ink, then began to recede at an impossible rate. By morning, Lake Hali was gone, leaving behind a vast crater of cracked earth that seemed to sweat an oily residue in the sun.

The corruption didn't stop at the lake's boundaries. The earth itself was transformed, becoming hostile to all natural life. The once-healing waters had been replaced by something worse than mere absence - a negative space that actively repelled the natural order. Plants that take root in the lakebed grow twisted and wrong, while animals that venture too far onto its surface often develop strange mutations before dying painful deaths.

Local legend claims that on certain nights, when the moon is hidden and the stars align in particular configurations, the cracked earth of the dry lakebed seems to ripple like water. Some swear they've seen things moving beneath the surface of the ground, following patterns that mirror the sigils ka-Sarno inscribed so long ago. Others report hearing whispers in unknown languages rising from the deeper cracks, as if something is still trying to answer the sorcerer's call.

The construction of Lesh Kath Dohr atop the corrupted lakebed seems almost inevitable in hindsight - what better place for the Brazen Hounds to make their home than a site where sacred purity was deliberately transformed into profane corruption? The fortress's foundations dig deep into the corrupted earth, and some say that ka-Sarno's failed ritual somehow resonates with the building's geometric patterns, creating a harmony of wrongness that strengthens both.

Perhaps most disturbing are the dreams reported by those who spend too long near the former lake. They speak of visions of vast, dark waters teeming with impossible life, and of a presence that waits just beyond the threshold of reality. Some scholars suggest that while ka-Sarno's ritual failed to fully summon Slytha Vermus, it may have created a permanent echo of the outer god's influence - a shadow of corruption cast across the barrier between worlds.

The tragedy of Lake Hali serves as a stark reminder of the price of hubris, and of how easily purity can be corrupted by those seeking power. Where once pilgrims came to be healed, now only the Brazen Hounds and their dark works remain, as if the very memory of the lake's former glory makes its current state all the more terrible.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Lesh Kath Dohr

Rising from the cracked earth of what was once the Lake of Hali, Lesh Kath Dohr stands as a monument to engineered malevolence. The fortress's stark geometries seem to actively reject natural forms, its angles and proportions deliberately calculated by its designer, the mad sorcerer Mazar ka-Sarno, to induce feelings of dread and insignificance in those who behold it.

The structure is built from massive blocks of black stone quarried from deep beneath the ancient lakebed, each block treated with alchemical processes that render them not just impervious to conventional siege weapons, but uncomfortable to look at for extended periods. The stone seems to absorb light rather than reflect it, creating an impression of depth that makes it difficult for observers to accurately judge distances or scale within the fortress's walls.

Lesh Kath Dohr's most distinctive feature is its hierarchical arrangement of perfectly square towers, each slightly offset from the others in a pattern that ka-Sarno claimed was based on "the geometry of pain." These towers are connected by enclosed bridges that cast impossibly dark shadows regardless of the sun's position. The fortress walls are uniformly vertical, broken only by arrow slits that have been engineered to amplify the screams of prisoners and the howls of the Kathic war hounds, carrying these sounds for miles across the dried lakebed.

The fortress's main gate is a masterwork of psychological warfare, designed as a massive mouth-like opening lined with sharp-edged geometric teeth. The approach to this gate is deliberate in its exposure, forcing visitors to walk a long, gradually narrowing causeway with no cover or shade. The walls on either side are angled to create wind effects that produce a constant, low-frequency moan, while the flagstones of the causeway itself are carved with scenes of torture that become progressively more disturbing as one nears the entrance.

The interior layout follows what ka-Sarno called "the Principles of Festering Despair." The courtyards and training grounds are arranged in concentric squares, each level slightly lower than the last, creating the impression of descending into an artificial hell. The parade ground where the Brazen Hounds conduct their drills is paved with polished obsidian, its surface kept perpetually slick with water to reflect the sky - creating a disorienting effect for those forced to watch the company's demonstrations of power.

Deep within the fortress lies the Flesh Kennels, a sprawling series of kennels and training areas where the company's Kathic war hounds are bred and conditioned. The complex is designed with acoustic channels that collect and amplify the beasts' howls, directing them through the fortress's ventilation system. This creates an ever-present background of bestial noise that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

The fortress's dungeons deserve special mention, as they represent perhaps the purest expression of ka-Sarno's twisted genius. Rather than traditional cells, the detention areas are constructed as a series of geometrically perfect cubes, each precisely calculated to amplify feelings of isolation and despair. The walls are lined with copper sheets inscribed with mathematical formulas that ka-Sarno claimed would "resonate with human suffering," though whether this is truth or merely psychological warfare is unknown.

One of the fortress's most practical yet disturbing features is its water collection system. The entire structure is designed to channel and collect even the slightest rainfall, storing it in deep cisterns beneath the foundation. These cisterns are accessed through a series of narrow spiral staircases, each step carved with symbols from ka-Sarno's personal system of mathematical mysticism. The water itself, filtered through layers of enchanted copper, is said to retain a metallic taste that never quite leaves the mouth.

The company's administrative center occupies the highest tower, known as the Throne of Calculation. Here, the Brazen Hounds maintain their meticulous records of atrocity in a library whose shelves are arranged in the same geometric patterns as the fortress itself. The reading room features windows of specially treated glass that cast prismatic shadows, creating an environment where even the act of reviewing documents becomes an exercise in disorientation.

The fortress's parade ground is surrounded by copper poles topped with the preserved heads of those who have attempted to infiltrate or assault Lesh Kath Dohr. These poles are arranged in precise mathematical patterns that, when viewed from the commander's balcony, form complex geometric shapes said to have mystical significance in ka-Sarno's theories of architectural sorcery.

The training grounds where new recruits are broken and remade in the company's image are perhaps the most deliberately oppressive areas of the fortress. The walls here are set at angles that create constant shadows regardless of the time of day, while the ground is paved with stones of varying heights, making it impossible to find stable footing. The overall effect is one of perpetual physical and psychological destabilization.

In recent years, the fortress has begun to develop its own legends among the Brazen Hounds themselves. Some claim that ka-Sarno's geometries are slowly altering the very fabric of reality around Lesh Kath Dohr, while others insist that the fortress itself has developed a form of consciousness, actively working to break the spirits of those imprisoned within its walls. Whether these stories represent truth or simply the psychological effect of living within such a deliberately oppressive structure remains unclear.

What is clear is that Lesh Kath Dohr serves its purpose with terrible efficiency. It is more than merely a fortress - it is a machine designed to process human brutality, transforming ordinary soldiers into the efficient dealers of atrocity that make up the Brazen Hounds' ranks. In this, at least, Mazar ka-Sarno's mad vision has been entirely successful.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Brazen Hounds

The Brazen Hounds emerge from the darkest corners of Karan Dron's martial culture, a mercenary company whose very name has become synonymous with calculated atrocity. Their reputation is such that most civilized nations refuse their services not from moral objection alone, but from fear that employing them might forever stain their own reputation. Yet the Hounds are never short of work - there are always those willing to embrace brutality when more conventional methods fail.

The company takes its name from their distinctive armor, burnished to a copper sheen and adorned with snarling dog motifs. Their officers wear full face masks fashioned into bestial visages, the metal specially treated to resist tarnishing even in the bloodiest conditions. These masks serve both to terrify their opponents and to shield their wearers' identities - many Hounds find it convenient to remain anonymous given the nature of their work.

The Brazen Hounds' most notorious asset is their extensive corps of Kathic war hounds, making them the largest private employer of these magically engineered horrors outside of Karan Dron's official military. The company maintains its own specialized breeding and training facilities, where they've developed unique methods for maximizing the beasts' capacity for terror. Unlike standard military units, the Hounds have developed specialized deployment strategies focusing on psychological impact, arranging their war hounds in three distinct units:

- The Raging Pack: Primarily used for tracking and eliminating resistance fighters

- The Terror Hounds: Specially trained for urban pacification and crowd control

- The Breaker Pack: Reserved for public executions and demonstrations of power

Their handlers have refined the traditional practice of feeding the beasts slave flesh, developing a sophisticated system of reward and conditioning. They maintain dedicated "feeding pits" where captured resistance leaders are given to the hounds, believing this creates an instinctive hostility toward authority figures who oppose their employers. The public nature of these feedings serves dual purposes - training the beasts while demonstrating the consequences of defiance.

Unlike most mercenary companies that specialize in conventional warfare, the Brazen Hounds have carved out a niche in rebellion suppression and civilian pacification. They have developed methodologies of terror that go beyond simple violence, employing psychological warfare techniques refined through generations of crushing the human spirit. Their approach is systematic and almost scholarly in its brutality - they maintain detailed records of which techniques prove most effective at breaking different populations' will to resist.

The Hounds operate with a three-tiered strategy they call the "Breaking of the Pack":

- First comes isolation: cutting off rebel groups from civilian support through targeted atrocity

- Then demonstration: public displays of consequence that erode communal solidarity

- Finally, the harvest: systematic elimination of any remaining resistance

Their forces include specialists in various forms of public torture, psychological manipulation, and mass terror. They employ dedicated "Fear-Seeders" - individuals trained in identifying and exploiting local customs and beliefs to maximize the psychological impact of their actions. Every atrocity is carefully calculated, every act of mercy precisely measured to create maximum uncertainty and despair.

The company's officers maintain a peculiar relationship with their war hounds, treating them as something between weapons and dark omens. Each major unit includes a "Hound Lord" who coordinates the beasts' deployment for maximum psychological impact. These specialists are experts in using the war hounds to break enemy morale, often having them slowly stalk civilian areas for days before an actual attack begins.

Their training facility, hidden in the hinterlands of Karan Dron, is said to be a place where all traces of conventional morality are systematically stripped away. New recruits undergo a year-long process of desensitization and indoctrination, during which they are forced to participate in increasingly horrific acts. Many don't survive the training - those who do emerge as something other than human, at least in the eyes of their victims.

The Brazen Hounds have developed a distinctive variation on the standard war hound armor, adding strips of ensorcelled copper that create a terrible screaming sound when the beasts roll into their ball form. This modification serves no practical combat purpose - its sole function is to heighten the terror of their attacks. The sound has been described as combining the shriek of torn metal with the screams of the damned.

Their command structure is unusually rigid for a mercenary company, reflecting their origins in Karan Dron's military traditions. Each officer commands absolute authority over their unit, but is also absolutely responsible for its effectiveness. Failure often results in the officer being ceremonially fed to the company's Kathic war hounds - a practice that ensures only the most capable or ruthless rise through the ranks.

The company maintains a special ceremonial unit of albino Kathic war hounds, believed to be descended from a rare mutation in their breeding program. These pale horrors are reserved for what the company calls "exhibitions of consequence" - public demonstrations meant to shatter any thought of resistance in newly conquered territories. Their ghostly appearance and unnatural coordination have given rise to numerous dark legends in lands where they've been deployed.

The Brazen Hounds maintain their own intelligence network, collecting detailed information about potential clients and targets alike. This knowledge serves both to improve their operational efficiency and to protect themselves from betrayal. They are known to maintain "leverage archives" containing compromising information about their employers - insurance against any attempt to deny payment or disavow their actions.

Their services come at a premium price, not just in gold but in political capital. They require their employers to publicly acknowledge their hiring - part of their strategy to maintain their fearsome reputation. Their contracts always include specific clauses about the extent of brutality permitted, not to limit it but to ensure their employers cannot later claim ignorance of their methods.

The mere sight of the Brazen Hounds approaching a city has ended some rebellions before they began. Their reputation is such that some regions have developed specific prayers and wards against them, though such superstitious defenses mean little when their armored forces and war beasts begin their work. The company carefully cultivates this fear, understanding that the anticipation of their arrival can be as effective as their actual presence.

Perhaps most chilling is their bureaucratic approach to atrocity. Every operation is meticulously documented, with reports analyzing the effectiveness of various terror techniques. These records are stored in their fortress-archive in Karan Dron, where they form a growing manual of methodical brutality that gets refined with each new contract.

Through it all, the Brazen Hounds maintain the cold professionalism that makes them truly terrifying - they harbor no particular malice toward their victims, viewing atrocity simply as the most efficient tool for achieving their contracted goals. In their own words, they are merely "engineers of compliance," applying the principles of terror with the same dispassion that others might apply the principles of siege warfare or naval combat.

Their presence in a region often outlasts their contract, as the psychological scars they inflict on a population can persist for generations. Mothers in lands where they've operated still quiet unruly children with whispered warnings about the Hounds, and their distinctive armor design has been incorporated into various cultures' iconography of evil.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Kathic war hound

Among the many abominations created by the morphomancers of old, few have proven as grimly practical as the Kathic war hound. These creatures, bred from the fusion of war dogs and armadillos, embody the cruel efficiency that marks all endeavors of the Thirteen Cities of Karan Dron. Their very existence serves as a reminder that not all of the Old World's dark sciences were lost to time.

The Kathic war hound presents a nightmarish fusion of canine aggression and reptilian armor. Their bodies are covered in overlapping plates of bone-hard scales, naturally arranged to allow for both protection and mobility. Unlike their armadillo ancestors, these plates have evolved under magickal manipulation to develop serrated edges, making the beasts lethal even when simply brushing against their targets. The creature's head retains the basic shape of a war dog but is similarly armored, with only the eyes and jaws remaining exposed.

These beasts stand as tall as a man's waist, with bodies surprisingly lean despite their armored bulk. Their movement is unnaturally fluid for such heavily protected creatures, suggesting that the ancient morphomancers did more than simply graft armor onto war dogs - they fundamentally altered the creatures' muscle structure and skeletal system. When running at full speed, they can roll themselves into armored balls, becoming living projectiles capable of breaking through infantry formations.

The training of Kathic war hounds begins shortly after birth in the specialized kennels of Karan Dron. From their earliest days, they are fed exclusively on the flesh of dead slaves, a practice that serves multiple purposes. Beyond developing their taste for human flesh, this diet is believed to imbue them with a particular savagery towards those who wear the chains of servitude. Their handlers claim this creates an instinctive ability to distinguish between soldiers and slaves on the battlefield, making them more efficient tools of terror.

Their jaws have been magickally enhanced to possess crushing power far beyond what their size would suggest. A single bite can shatter bone, and their serrated teeth are specifically designed to tear through armor. Most disturbingly, their saliva contains a magical compound that prevents blood from clotting, ensuring that even minor wounds become potentially lethal.

The beasts possess an unsettling level of intelligence, another "gift" from their magical engineering. They can follow complex commands and even demonstrate basic tactical awareness, often working in packs to isolate and bring down stronger opponents. Their handlers have observed them using their rolling attacks in coordinated ways, with some hounds driving targets into the paths of their rolling packmates.

In the armies of Karan Dron, Kathic war hounds serve multiple roles. Beyond their obvious use as shock troops and terror weapons, they excel at hunting down escaped slaves and routing enemy formations. Their armored plates make them particularly effective against cavalry, as horses instinctively shy away from their unnatural scent and appearance, while their rolling attacks can easily break a horse's legs.

The breeding of these creatures is carefully controlled by the kennelmasters of Karan Dron, who maintain detailed bloodlines and practice selective breeding to enhance desired traits. The exact spells and procedures used in their creation have been lost to time, making each existing hound incredibly valuable. This has led to the development of sophisticated training methods that balance the beasts' effectiveness against the need to preserve them for breeding.

Perhaps most disturbing is the psychological impact these creatures have on their opponents. Their armored appearance and unnaturally fluid movement create an immediate sense of wrongness that can break morale before they even engage. The sound of their armored bodies rolling across a battlefield has been described as similar to approaching thunder, while their howls carry undertones that seem to resonate with primal fears in the human mind.

Caring for Kathic war hounds requires specialized knowledge and constant vigilance. Their armored plates must be regularly oiled to prevent rusting, and their diet must be carefully managed to maintain their bloodthirst without allowing it to overcome their training. Each beast requires its own handler, who must establish dominance through a combination of physical prowess and magical influence. The position of handler is considered both prestigious and dangerous - the hounds have been known to turn on those they deem weak.

In recent years, some of Karan Dron's enemies have attempted to replicate these creatures through their own morphomancy, but without the original spells used in their creation, such attempts have produced only twisted failures. The Kathic war hounds remain one of Karan Dron's most closely guarded military assets, a living reminder that some horrors of the Old World continue to serve new masters.

Among the slaves and common folk of Kathos, these beasts have become figures of dark mythology. Parents warn children that disobedient slaves will be fed to the hounds, while soldiers who have faced them in battle speak of their unnatural resilience and the way they seem to take pleasure in the terror they inspire. Yet for the lords of Karan Dron, they represent something else entirely - proof that with sufficient cruelty and innovation, even the most disparate elements of nature can be forced to serve the will of those with power.

[theblackbookofarkera]

From the Imperial Gallery of the Ashonki Empire

Depiction of Kausau savages

Artist unknown.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Jabu-Saag

In the darkest reaches of Hypraxia's forests, where the canopy grows so thick that perpetual twilight reigns, dwells Juba-Saag - a deity that embodies both the savage vitality and the terrifying mysteries of the primal world. The Kausau speak of their god not as some distant, contemplative being, but as a visceral presence that can be heard in every breaking branch and smelled in the copper-tang of spilled blood.

According to Kausau mythology, Juba-Saag appears as a colossal albino gorilla, standing thrice the height of a man when hunched and far taller when raised to his full stature. His fur is described as being not simply white but possessing a luminous quality that seems to drink in ambient light, much like the skin of his followers. His most striking features are his obsidian teeth - not the flat molars of a typical gorilla, but razor-sharp fangs arranged in multiple rows like a shark's mouth. His eyes are said to burn like coals in a forge, and his breath carries the sweet-rotting scent of forbidden meat.

The Kausau believe Juba-Saag was not born but rather emerged fully formed from the "First Cave" in the time before time, when the world was young and the boundary between flesh and spirit was still fluid. He is said to have taught the earliest Kausau how to survive in the forest by demonstrating which flesh carried the most power when consumed. These first lessons were not just about sustenance but about the sacred transfer of strength and wisdom through ritual consumption.

Juba-Saag's domain extends beyond mere physical hunting and consumption. He is considered the keeper of ancient knowledge, particularly the secrets of how spirit and flesh intersect. His priests, the Tooth-Marked, undergo initiation rites in sacred caverns where they claim to be partially devoured by their god - their flesh torn and then mystically regenerated, leaving permanent marks that serve as channels for divine power.

The god's worship involves complex rituals that outsiders often mistake for simple savagery. The most sacred is the "Feast of Recognition," where worthy warriors who fall in battle against the Kausau are consumed in a specific order, with prayers offered to Juba-Saag at each stage. The god is said to participate directly in these feasts, invisible to normal eyes but present in the sudden chills that pass through the gathering and the strange shadows that move against the firelight.

Unlike many deities who demand complete devotion, Juba-Saag is said to recognize and even respect other gods - he simply considers them prey. Kausau mythology includes tales of their god hunting and consuming lesser deities, absorbing their power and knowledge. This belief has led to complex theological debates among Hypraxian scholars about whether the Kausau's god represents a more primal form of divinity that predates civilization's gods.

The White Gorilla God's influence extends into all aspects of Kausau life. Their hunting techniques are said to be based on his movements, their social hierarchies mirror the organization of his divine teeth, and their most sacred laws are believed to be derived from watching his behavior in the spirit world. Even their distinctive appearance is attributed to him - legends say the Kausau were once dark-skinned like other Hypraxians, but generations of drinking from pools blessed by Juba-Saag's reflection gradually turned them pale.

One of the most fascinating aspects of Juba-Saag's nature is his role as a keeper of boundaries - not just between life and death, but between civilization and wilderness, knowledge and instinct, spirit and flesh. The Kausau believe he maintains these boundaries not by keeping them separate but by constantly transgressing them, demonstrating through his divine actions that such divisions are ultimately artificial.

The god's sacred sites are scattered throughout the deep forest, marked by subtle signs that only initiated Kausau can recognize. Most important are the "Feeding Caves" - natural caverns where the boundaries between physical and spiritual realms are said to be thinnest. Here, the Tooth-Marked conduct their most sacred rituals, and it is said that sometimes Juba-Saag himself can be heard breathing in the depths.

Perhaps most chilling to outsiders are the accounts of Juba-Saag's direct manifestations. Unlike many gods who appear in dreams or visions, he is said to physically manifest in times of great need or significance. These appearances are marked by a sudden deepening of shadows, a complete silence falling over the forest, and the overwhelming scent of fresh meat. Those who have survived such encounters speak of feeling not just terror but a profound sense of recognition - as if some primal part of their own nature has suddenly been revealed to them.

The Kausau insist that Juba-Saag, despite his terrifying aspects, is not evil but rather beyond such simple moral distinctions. They point out that he teaches through example the fundamental truth of the natural world - that all life sustains itself through the consumption of other life, and that true wisdom comes from acknowledging and embracing this reality rather than hiding from it behind civilized pretenses.

In recent times, as Hypraxia's kingdoms have expanded their influence, some scholars have attempted to categorize Juba-Saag within their traditional religious frameworks. Such efforts invariably fail, as the White Gorilla God refuses to be confined by civilization's understanding. He remains what he has always been - a primal force that reminds humanity of truths it would rather forget, speaking through blood and bone of mysteries that existed long before the first city's foundations were laid.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Kausau

Deep within the verdant forests of Hypraxia, where ancient trees form cathedral-like canopies that filter the harsh equatorial sun, dwell the Kausau - a people as mysterious as they are feared. Their distinctive appearance, with skin so pale it seems to absorb no light at all, has led many to view them as living ghosts haunting the shadowed places of this predominantly black-skinned continent.

The Kausau's unique appearance stems from a hereditary condition that goes beyond mere albinism. Their skin possesses a strange, powdery quality that some scholars theorize may be an adaptation to their forest environment, while others suggest it results from generations of exposure to certain minerals in their sacred caves. Their eyes, unlike typical albinos, are said to be completely black, with no discernible iris or pupil, allowing them to see perfectly in the dim forest light.

Their society revolves around the worship of Juba-Saag, a deity they envision as a massive white-furred gorilla with obsidian teeth and eyes of burning coal. Unlike the refined religious practices of Hypraxia's great kingdoms, Kausau worship is primal and direct. Their priests, known as the Tooth-Marked, bear ritualistic scars said to be inflicted by Juba-Saag himself during their initiation in sacred caverns deep within the forest.

The Kausau practice a complex form of ritual cannibalism that has been greatly misunderstood by outsiders. They believe that consuming the flesh of worthy enemies transfers not just strength but wisdom and experience. This practice is highly ritualized, with specific parts of the body reserved for different members of their society based on their role and status. However, they consider it taboo to consume the flesh of those who die of natural causes or those they deem unworthy opponents.

Their settlements are remarkably well-hidden, built into the natural contours of the forest. They construct their dwellings in the spaces between massive tree roots or within hollow trunks, creating entire villages that can remain invisible even to those passing within yards of them. These settlements are connected by a network of trails marked with symbols that only the Kausau can read, allowing them to move through their territory while remaining unseen by outsiders.

The Kausau's relationship with the greater kingdoms of Hypraxia is complex. While they are indeed viewed with fear and suspicion by the "civilized" peoples, they also serve an important role as guardians of the deep forest. Many of Hypraxia's kingdoms quietly employ Kausau scouts and warriors when they need to navigate or gather intelligence in the more remote regions of the continent.

Their martial prowess is legendary, though poorly understood by outsiders. Kausau warriors paint themselves with white clay mixed with sacred herbs, making them nearly invisible in the dappled forest light. They fight using sophisticated ambush tactics and weapons designed specifically for their forest environment, including barbed spears that can be used both for hunting and climbing, and throwing knives that make no sound in flight.

The Kausau possess a rich oral tradition that includes not just their own history but detailed knowledge of the forest's ecology. They maintain complex relationships with various species of plants and animals, understanding ecological connections that have often proved valuable to Hypraxian naturalists brave enough to study with them. Their expertise with forest medicines is particularly renowned, though few outsiders have ever been allowed to learn their secrets.

Despite their fearsome reputation, the Kausau maintain strict ethical codes governing their interactions with both their environment and other peoples. They never hunt more than they need, whether for food or ritual purposes, and their cannibalistic practices follow rigid guidelines that prohibit the consumption of those who have not chosen to engage them in combat. They show remarkable respect for their enemies, believing that worthy opponents become part of their own strength through their rituals.

Their language is unique among Hypraxian peoples, incorporating sounds that mimic forest animals and what they claim are the voices of spirits. Linguistic scholars who have studied it suggest it may be one of the continent's oldest surviving languages, preserving elements of speech patterns that predate the rise of Hypraxia's current civilizations.

Among themselves, the Kausau maintain complex social structures based on both individual achievement and inherited status. Their society is divided into various "teeth" or social ranks, each associated with different aspects of Juba-Saag's mouth. Leadership typically falls to those who have achieved the rank of "Wisdom Tooth," requiring both martial prowess and deep spiritual understanding.

The Kausau's persistence as a distinct culture, despite pressures from expanding kingdoms and changing times, speaks to their remarkable adaptability. They have maintained their traditions while selectively engaging with the wider world on their own terms, proving far more sophisticated than the "barbarous" label assigned to them by outsiders would suggest.

In recent years, some of Hypraxia's more progressive scholars have begun to recognize the Kausau's rich cultural heritage and deep ecological knowledge, though such appreciation remains rare among the general population. The Kausau themselves appear largely unconcerned with how they are perceived, confident in their role as guardians of ancient ways and keepers of forest secrets that the "civilized" world has long forgotten.

Author’s note - I am going to finish out this years posts, I am already several weeks ahead of schedule. Come next year I am considering leaving, not stopping, just leaving this platform. I dislike it here for a myriad of reasons. If anyone has suggestions please let me know…

[theblackbookofarkera]

Iks

Among the Thirteen Cities of the Karan Dron, Iks stands as a monument to suffering wrought in iron and stone. Known to traders as the Anvil of the North, its furnaces never cease their hungry roaring, belching columns of black smoke that stain the gray skies darker still. Here, in this realm of perpetual twilight, the demon goddess Ishbalara the Juggernaut holds sway, though the broken citizens of Iks know her by an older name - Tur the Ravenous, She Who Devours Hope.

The city rises in tiers of dark stone and rusted metal, each level higher than the last, like the steps of a temple to industry and despair. The lowest rings house the miners, their backs bent from generations of toil in the deep iron veins that honeycomb the earth beneath the city. Above them dwell the smelters and smiths, their districts marked by the constant percussion of hammers and the sulfurous reek of the foundries. The highest tiers belong to the masters of commerce who broker contracts with the Yellow Court's merchant princes, though even these privileged few live in the shadow of what looms above them all.

For crowning the city's highest points are the Hateful Watchers - colossal statues carved from black stone, their forms combining aspects of ancient horrors no living eye has seen. A hundred-armed thing with too many mouths writhes in frozen agony atop the Guild of Hekatur. A winged terror with a face of writhing tentacles perches above the Grand Foundry, its stone eyes weeping streams of rainwater that the superstitious claim turn to blood in the light of the setting sun. Each monster is unique in its horror, yet all share one quality - their faces are turned downward, always watching the citizens below.

The Yellow Court's contracts keep Iks wealthy, or at least its ruling class. The city's unmatched mastery of iron-working and steel production makes it indispensable to the Court's armies and shipwrights. Yet this economic strength comes with chains of its own, for the Court's influence runs deep, and their representatives walk the streets in yellow robes trimmed with iron chains, ensuring quotas are met and tributes paid.

But there are those who whisper of resistance, who pass down the words of Azrhiman Pzo'Sunj, the legendary traveler who walked the streets of Iks unafraid. His writings, copied in secret and shared in shadows, speak of a profound truth: "The watchful monsters feast on fear, it's sweeter than any indulgent confection or fresh kill. Walk with no fear and your light will blind the horrors that long to consume you body and soul."

Some say Pzo'Sunj discovered even darker truths in his travels - that the Hateful Watchers are more than mere statues, that they move when no mortal eye rests upon them, and that Tur's hunger grows with each passing year. In the deepest mines, where even the hardened workers fear to tread, ancient chambers have been found bearing carvings that suggest the iron veins of Iks are not natural formations at all, but the ossified remains of something vast and terrible that slumbers still.

Yet still the forges burn, the hammers fall, and the people of Iks endure. Some find solace in the words of Pzo'Sunj, others in the bottom of cups filled with bitter mining-wine, and others still in the twisted embrace of Tur's faith, believing that submission to terror is preferable to fighting it. Above them all, the Watchers maintain their vigil, their shadow-shrouded faces bearing expressions that might be agony, might be hunger, or might be something worse - anticipation.

[theblackbookofarkera]

House of Hidden Works

The House of Hidden Works presents a masterwork of deception - appearing from the outside as little more than a modest yeshiva nestled among Eronah's hillside olive groves. Yet this seemingly humble institution houses one of the most heavily fortified compounds in the kingdom, its defenses as layered and intricate as the prayers etched into the golems created within its walls.

Perhaps most remarkable among its defenders are the Copper Sons - former soldiers of Urakkad who found their way to the light of Elshahim. These warriors, having once served the dark empire's armies, now stand as the first line of defense for the very secrets they once sought to steal. Their conversion stories are varied - some were captured in battle, others deserted after witnessing atrocities, and a few simply walked away from their posts after experiencing divine revelations. What unites them is their absolute dedication to their new purpose, each viewing their service as a form of perpetual atonement.

The Copper Sons bring a unique advantage to the compound's defense - intimate knowledge of Urakkad's military tactics and infiltration techniques. They maintain their fighting skills through rigorous training but have adapted their combat styles to incorporate Elshar religious principles. Many wear modified versions of their former Urakkad armor, now inscribed with Elorite prayers and stripped of dark empire insignia. Their previous experience with Urakkad's sorcery makes them particularly effective at identifying and countering magical infiltration attempts.

The physical security of the compound begins with its architecture. The visible structure sits atop a vast network of underground chambers and workshops, with the entire complex built according to sacred geometric principles. Multiple false entrances lead potential infiltrators into trapped dead ends, while the true passages are hidden behind mechanisms that require both physical keys and correctly chanted prayers to operate. The layout itself follows patterns based on kabalistic numerology, making navigation impossible without proper instruction.

The title "Copper Sons" carries deep significance - it represents their rebirth through the same divine principles that guide the creation of the copper golems they now protect. Like the golems themselves, these warriors have been reshaped and repurposed through sacred means, their former allegiances burned away and replaced with devotion to a higher purpose. Some say the nickname emerged because prolonged exposure to the golem workshops has left many of them with a distinctive coppery tint to their skin.

Magickal defenses permeate every level of the facility. Copper strips embedded in the walls form unbroken circuits of Elorite letters, creating a continuous barrier against malevolent sorcery. Specially crafted mezuzot at every doorway serve double duty - both as traditional religious items and as anchor points for protective wards. The rabbis maintain a constant schedule of blessing and renewal for these defenses, understanding that magical barriers, like faith itself, require constant attention and care.

The Copper Sons operate in perfect coordination with these defensive systems. Their patrol routes follow paths that maintain unbroken chains of protection, their movements synchronized with the daily rhythms of prayer and study. They know every fold in the terrain, every hidden passage, and every backup plan. More importantly, they understand the sacred nature of their duty - they aren't just protecting a building or even its secrets, but the very future of Eronah itself.

Yet for all its martial preparation, the House of Hidden Works remains fundamentally a place of redemption and transformation. The Copper Sons, like the metal they protect, stand as evidence that anything can be reshaped and repurposed by divine will. Their presence serves as a daily reminder to the rabbis that their work with the golems is part of a larger pattern of redemption - taking the base materials of the world, whether metal or human souls, and elevating them to serve holy purposes.

The compound maintains strict protocols for managing these multiple layers of security. Regular drills test responses to various threats, always conducted under the cover of normal religious activities. The Copper Sons take pride in training new converts who join their ranks, passing on not just military knowledge but the deeper understanding of their sacred duty. Each new member of their brotherhood must learn to balance martial skill with religious devotion, understanding that their role is not just to fight but to embody the transformative power of faith.

In the end, the House of Hidden Works stands as a testament to the harmonious integration of the martial and the mystical, where every aspect of defense serves both practical and spiritual purposes. It is a place where former enemies find redemption through service, where ancient prayers become modern protections, and where the future of a nation is guarded by those who once sought to destroy it - now reborn as its most dedicated protectors.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Order of Copper & Prayer

In the kingdom of Eronah, amid the steep hillsides dotted with ancient olive groves, stands an unassuming yeshiva known as the House of Hidden Works. Though it appears much like any other center of Elshar religious study, this institution houses one of the most secretive and extraordinary schools of rabbinical practice in all of Arkera - the Order of Copper and Prayer, creators of Eronah's legendary copper defenders.

Selection for this arcane brotherhood is rigorous and begins early. Prospective members are identified among young religious students who show not only exceptional theological aptitude but also natural talent in metallurgy and mathematics. These candidates are tested through a series of increasingly complex theological riddles disguised as ordinary religious instruction. Many complete their entire religious education never realizing they were being evaluated for a greater purpose.

The chosen few who are finally initiated into the Order first undergo a year of isolation in special meditation cells carved into the hillside. During this period, they learn the fundamental principle that guides all their future work: the idea that sacred geometry, when properly aligned with divine law, can create channels for holy power to flow into the physical world. They study ancient texts that blend metallurgical formulas with kabalistic numerology, learning to see copper not just as a metal but as a physical form of divine potential.

The Order is structured in concentric circles of knowledge and responsibility. The outer circle, known as the Shapers, focus on the physical crafting of the golem forms. The middle circle, the Scribes, master the art of inscribing prayers so tiny that hundreds can fit within a single fingerwidth of copper. The inner circle, called the Breath-Catchers, undertake the dangerous work of capturing and implementing the divine breath that animates the golems. Each circle has its own mysteries and techniques, passed down through an unbroken chain of master to apprentice since the Order's founding.

What makes these rabbis unique among religious scholars is their seamless integration of the practical and mystical. They maintain vast workshops hidden beneath their yeshiva where sacred forges burn day and night. These forges are said to be fed with specially blessed olive wood and tended by acolytes who must maintain perfect ritual purity while working. The smoke from these forges is channeled through a complex system of ducts inscribed with prayers, ensuring that even the waste products of their work remain within the bounds of religious law.

The Order maintains extensive libraries containing centuries of accumulated knowledge about their craft. These texts are written in a special script that combines Hebrew letters with metallurgical symbols, creating a unique technical-theological language that is all but indecipherable to outsiders. Each generation adds to this knowledge, documenting their successes and failures with meticulous care.

Perhaps most remarkable is the Order's approach to innovation. While deeply respectful of tradition, they actively seek to improve their techniques through what they call "holy experimentation." They believe that since their work serves divine purposes, careful innovation is itself a form of religious devotion. However, any proposed change to their methods must be approved by a council of elders who examine it from both theological and practical perspectives.

The physical toll of their work is considerable. Extended exposure to the divine energies they manipulate often leaves its mark - premature aging, recurring visions, and a peculiar sensitivity to metal that many develop. Some members of the inner circle eventually lose the ability to sleep normally, claiming they can hear the whispers of copper in their dreams. Yet they consider these afflictions small prices to pay for the privilege of their sacred work.

The Order maintains strict protocols about contact with the outside world. Members live primarily within their compound, emerging only for necessary religious duties or to acquire materials for their work. They are forbidden from discussing their true purpose with anyone, including family members. Many of their public religious duties serve as cover for their real work - for instance, their regular pilgrimages to coastal cities to "pray by the sea" are actually missions to acquire specially purified copper from secret suppliers.

Their dedication to secrecy extends to their methods of instruction. Much of their crucial knowledge is never written down but passed orally from teacher to student. They employ a complex system of mnemonics disguised as traditional religious songs, hiding metallurgical formulas and ritual instructions within seemingly innocent melodies. Even their workshops are designed to be quickly converted to appear as ordinary study halls should uninitiated visitors arrive.

Despite their secretive nature, the Order maintains careful oversight of their work through a system of internal checks and balances. Three senior members must approve each stage of a golem's creation, and the final activation ritual requires the unanimous consent of the entire inner circle. They believe this careful approach helps prevent both technical errors and spiritual transgressions.

In recent years, as threats to Eronah have grown, the Order has quietly accelerated their work while maintaining their exacting standards. They view their mission not just as creating defenders, but as preparing vessels worthy of containing divine power. Their workshops now operate around the clock in shifts, their prayers and hammers ringing out in careful harmony as they labor to prepare for a future they hope will never come.

For all their power and knowledge, the members of the Order maintain the humble demeanor expected of religious scholars. They see themselves not as mighty artificers but as simple servants of divine will, privileged to work with holy mysteries but always aware of their own limitations. In their precious few moments of rest, they gather in their private sanctuary and pray that their creations will never need to be awakened - while working tirelessly to ensure they will be ready if that day arrives.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Copper golems

Deep within the vulnerable kingdom of Eronah, behind locked doors and in secret workshops, a select group of Elshar rabbis labor at an extraordinary task - the creation of an army born not of flesh and blood, but of copper and divine breath. These sacred artificers work to forge what may be their nation's last hope of survival: an army of golems infused with a fraction of Elshahim's own breath.

The creation of these copper defenders represents a unique confluence of metallurgy, theology, and mystical engineering. The rabbis begin with pure copper, which they believe best conducts both physical energy and divine essence. Each golem is carefully shaped through a process that takes months, with every curve and joint inscribed with microscopic prayers in ancient holy script. These prayers serve both as spiritual reinforcement and as intricate command structures that will guide the golem's actions when awakened.

The most crucial and controversial aspect of their creation is the incorporation of what the rabbis call a "shrewd" - a tiny portion of Elshahim's breath, captured through complex theological rituals that have been debated in secret rabbinical courts for generations. Some religious authorities argue that attempting to harness divine breath borders on blasphemy, while others contend that Elshahim himself has provided this knowledge to protect his chosen people.

Each golem stands roughly twice the height of a man, their copper forms burnished to a warm glow that seems to pulse with inner light. Their features are deliberately left abstract - smooth faces with subtle suggestions of eyes and mouth, limbs that favor function over form. This abstraction is intentional, as the rabbis believe too close an approximation of the human form might attract malevolent spiritual attention.

The golems are said to rest in vast underground chambers beneath Eronah's synagogues and religious schools, standing in silent rows awaiting the day of their awakening. According to closely guarded texts, they can only be activated by a specific sequence of prayers spoken by a quorum of thirteen rabbis working in perfect synchronization. Once awakened, they will follow a complex set of predetermined commands encoded in their prayer-inscriptions, prioritizing the defense of civilian populations and holy sites.

What makes these guardians particularly formidable is their immunity to conventional sorcery. The prayers etched into their forms create a kind of spiritual insulation, while their copper construction resists many forms of magical manipulation. They are said to be especially effective against demons and corrupt spirits, as the divine breath within them acts as a natural repellent to unholy forces.

However, the creation of these defenders comes at a tremendous cost. Each rabbi involved in their creation must fast for forty days before beginning the work, and the process of capturing and implementing the divine breath is said to leave many practitioners permanently changed, their hair turned white and their eyes bearing a distant look as if they've gazed too long into divine mysteries. Some never recover from the strain, spending their remaining days in contemplative silence.

The exact number of copper golems created remains a closely guarded secret, though rumors speak of enough to form a significant fighting force. The rabbis maintain that the mere existence of these defenders serves as a deterrent to Urakkad's aggression, even if their enemies don't know the full extent of their capabilities. They believe that divine providence will ensure the golems are revealed at precisely the right moment to save their nation.

Stories occasionally surface of solitary golems being tested in remote locations, their movements described as eerily graceful despite their massive size. Witnesses speak of seeing copper giants performing complex martial maneuvers with perfect precision, their forms moving with a fluid grace that seems impossible for beings of metal. These accounts are neither confirmed nor denied by the rabbinical authorities.

Perhaps most intriguing are the theological implications of these creations. Some scholars argue that the copper golems represent a new phase in the relationship between the divine and the mundane - a merging of spiritual and physical crafting that suggests new possibilities for how humanity might interact with divine power. Others worry that such attempts to harness divine essence, even in defense of the faithful, may have unforeseen consequences.

For now, the copper defenders wait in their hidden sanctuaries, their forms gradually developing a patina that some say reflects the age of the prayers they contain. They stand as a testament to both the ingenuity and desperation of a people determined to survive, their very existence embodying the thin line between preservation and hubris, between faith and presumption.

The rabbis continue their secret work, each new golem representing both a prayer for peace and a preparation for war. In their workshops, they whisper that when the time comes, the sound of marching copper feet will herald not just the defense of Eronah, but the manifestation of divine protection made gloriously, terrifyingly tangible.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Shen-Ka

The guardians of Bon Tai Shin are perhaps the only warrior monks in all of Arkera who must master the art of vertical combat. Known as the Shen-Ka (roughly translated as "Those Who Dance with Wind"), these remarkable warriors train from childhood to protect their monastery not just from mundane threats, but from those who would seek to plunder its ancient knowledge and mystical secrets.

What makes these guardians truly unique is their mastery of fighting while suspended hundreds of feet above the valley floor. Using an intricate system of counterweights, pulleys, and specially designed harnesses, the Shen-Ka can launch themselves between Bon Tai Shin's various levels with devastating precision. Their signature weapon, the three-sectioned grappling spear called the thu-lian, serves as both a tool for mobility and a deadly instrument of combat. The weapon's weighted chains can be used to entangle enemies or anchor positions, while its spearhead can puncture stone to create temporary holding points.

The Shen-Ka's training begins with months spent simply learning to move comfortably at extreme heights. Initiates start on lower terraces, gradually working their way up to the monastery's highest levels where winds can gust strong enough to tear an unprepared warrior from their position. Many candidates never progress beyond these basic lessons - those who cannot master their fear of heights are honorably reassigned to ground-level duties.

Their combat doctrine, known as "The Way of Mountain Wind," emphasizes using the monastery's unique architecture and treacherous positioning to their advantage. A Shen-Ka warrior learns to fight while balanced on narrow ledges, suspended from ropes, or even in free fall. Their techniques include methods for using the monastery's swaying bridges as launching points and ways to turn the ever-present winds into weapons themselves.

Perhaps most impressive is their ability to fight in the thin air at high altitudes. The Shen-Ka develop extraordinary lung capacity through special breathing techniques, allowing them to engage in intense combat even where the air is too thin for most humans to function. They learn to read wind patterns by studying cloud movements and can predict dangerous gusts seconds before they arrive - a skill that often means the difference between life and death.

The warriors wear distinctive armor made from lightweight but incredibly strong materials, with each piece carefully designed to aid in their aerial maneuvers rather than hinder them. Their most recognizable feature is their masked helmets, equipped with special filters to help them breathe in the thin mountain air and protect their eyes from the harsh winds. The armor is said to be enhanced by ancient crafting techniques known only to the monastery's armorers, making it remarkably resistant to both conventional weapons and certain forms of hostile sorcery.

But the Shen-Ka are more than mere warriors. In keeping with Platara philosophy, they are also scholars and mystics. Each guardian spends significant time studying the texts they protect, understanding that true defense of the monastery requires knowing why it must be protected. They maintain that the greatest battles they fight are not against physical intruders but against the human tendencies toward ignorance and complacency that Platara teaches against.

The training grounds of the Shen-Ka are among the most remarkable features of Bon Tai Shin. Suspended platforms of varying stability serve as sparring areas, while complex networks of ropes and cables allow warriors to practice their aerial techniques. The most impressive of these training areas is the "Chamber of Falling Leaves," a massive vertical shaft cut into the mountain where warriors practice fighting while in free fall, using their tools and techniques to constantly catch and release themselves.

Stories of the Shen-Ka's effectiveness have become legend throughout Kaspia. Tales tell of would-be thieves and hostile sorcerers who thought the monastery's precipitous position made it vulnerable, only to find themselves confronted by warriors who moved through the air as easily as others walk on solid ground. One famous account describes a band of rival mystics who attempted to breach the monastery during a fierce storm, believing the weather would provide cover - only to discover that the Shen-Ka fight even more effectively in adverse conditions.

The current complement of Shen-Ka numbers exactly one hundred and eight warriors, a number that has remained unchanged for centuries. When a position opens, either through death or retirement, candidates from across Kaspia compete for the honor of joining their ranks. However, it is said that in times of great need, every monk in Bon Tai Shin, regardless of their primary duties, can fight in the Shen-Ka style - for no one can survive long in the monastery without mastering at least the basics of vertical movement and combat.

MIn the end, the Shen-Ka embody one of Platara's core teachings - that humanity can overcome any obstacle through determination and wisdom. Their very existence proves that with proper training and understanding, even the seemingly impossible becomes achievable. They stand as living examples of how humans can adapt to and master the most extreme conditions, bringing order and purpose to chaos.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Bon Tai Shin

Defying both gravity and conventional wisdom, Bon Tai Shin clings to the sheer face of Dzhun Mountain like a jeweled spider's web caught in morning frost. The monastery's very existence seems to mock the limitations of human engineering, its graceful spires and terraced gardens emerging from near-vertical cliff faces at altitudes where the air grows thin and clouds weave between its buildings.

Dzhun Mountain itself towers above all others in the region, its peak perpetually shrouded in swirling mists that local Platara monks say contain fragments of ancient wisdom. The mountain's face presents a nearly vertical ascent of polished rock, making the monastery's construction all the more bewildering. Traditional climbing routes are almost nonexistent, yet somehow the builders managed to erect a sprawling complex that appears to have grown organically from the mountain's flesh.

The monastery's primary structures are anchored to the cliff face by massive steel and stone supports that disappear deep into the mountain's heart. These foundations, according to monastery records, were laid by master craftsmen who worked suspended by ropes for months at a time, many giving their lives to complete the impossible task. Yet engineering alone cannot explain how the entire complex maintains its precarious position - some scholars suggest that the builders employed forgotten architectural sorceries to achieve what conventional methods could not.

Bon Tai Shin is arranged in ascending tiers, each level connected by a network of covered bridges that span seemingly impossible distances. These bridges, constructed from local timber and reinforced with steel, sway gently in the mountain winds but have weathered centuries of storms without failure. During winter months, when the winds howl with particular ferocity, the entire monastery seems to dance in the air, yet never has a single major structure failed.

The monastery's design incorporates numerous meditation halls that project outward from the cliff face on crystalline platforms, allowing monks to contemplate the void while suspended thousands of feet above the valley floor. These chambers are said to induce unique states of consciousness, as if the combination of altitude, isolation, and precipitous positioning creates perfect conditions for experiencing Platara's teachings about cosmic indifference and human exceptionalism.

Perhaps most remarkable are the monastery's hanging gardens, where plants from across Arkera grow in terraced beds that seem to defy gravity. The monks maintain these gardens using an intricate system of waterways that cascade from level to level, the flow carefully regulated to prevent erosion while ensuring each plant receives precisely what it needs. These gardens not only provide food for the monastery's inhabitants but serve as living demonstrations of humanity's ability to create life and beauty in the most inhospitable conditions.

Access to Bon Tai Shin is limited to a single narrow stairway carved into the mountain's face, its steps worn smooth by centuries of use. The journey up these stairs is considered a meditation in itself, with many pilgrims taking several days to complete the ascent. Some sections of the stairway are so steep that chains have been embedded in the rock to assist climbers, while other portions tunnel directly through the mountain's heart.

The monastery's highest level, known as the Crown of Understanding, sits above the cloud line and offers an unobstructed view of the stars. Here, Platara scholars conduct their most profound contemplations, studying the cosmic void while surrounded by one of humanity's greatest achievements. The contrast between the infinite darkness above and the brilliant testament to human will below perfectly embodies Platara's central teaching - that humanity alone brings light to an indifferent universe.

To this day, architects and engineers debate how Bon Tai Shin was constructed. While the monastery's archives contain detailed records of its building, many of the techniques described seem to defy physical laws. Some suggest that the massive project's success relied not just on engineering and possible sorcery, but on the sheer force of human will - a physical manifestation of Platara's belief in humanity's exceptional nature.

The monastery continues to serve as both a center of Plataran learning and a testament to human potential. Its very existence challenges those who witness it to question the limitations they place on themselves, suggesting that perhaps the greatest obstacle to achieving the impossible is the belief that it cannot be done.

[theblackbookofarkera]

Platara

In the austere peaks of Kaspia, a philosophy emerged that dares to see the universe as it truly is - a vast expanse of cosmic indifference. Platara stands unique among belief systems, neither comforting its adherents with promises of divine love nor condemning them with threats of supernatural punishment. Instead, it offers a stark yet strangely empowering vision: in all the cold vastness of creation, humanity alone carries the torch of meaningful existence.

The Plataran view of divinity is particularly revolutionary. While acknowledging the existence of gods, it strips them of their traditional veneration. These beings, powerful though they may be, are viewed as merely another form of cosmic life, concerned only with their own survival and dominion. They are seen as ancient, powerful, but ultimately self-serving entities - no more worthy of worship than a storm or an earthquake. This departure from traditional religious thought reflects Platara's unflinching commitment to seeing past comfortable illusions.

Yet within this seemingly bleak cosmology lies a profound optimism about human potential. Platara teaches that humanity represents something unprecedented in creation - a conscious light in an unconscious darkness. Each human life is seen as a potential beacon, capable of illuminating not just the material world, but the realms beyond death. This metaphysical understanding transforms the purpose of human existence from divine servitude to cosmic significance.

The philosophy presents a unique view of the afterlife, where the spiritual enlightenment achieved in life serves a practical purpose beyond death. Those who "shine bright" in life become posthumous guides, their illuminated souls creating pathways through the dark realms of death, allowing others to find their way to ultimate bliss. This creates a chain of human achievement that transcends individual mortality, with each generation lighting the way for those who follow.

Platara's approach to personal development is remarkably pragmatic despite its cosmic scope. For the educated elite, the path to "shining bright" involves a comprehensive pursuit of knowledge across multiple disciplines. Scholars of Platara study history to understand humanity's journey, science to comprehend the material world, sorcery to grasp the manipulation of cosmic forces, and art to explore the heights of human expression. This multifaceted approach to enlightenment reflects the philosophy's belief that human potential is best realized through holistic development.

However, Platara shows equal respect for simpler paths to enlightenment. The philosophy teaches that the common people can achieve spiritual radiance through basic decency and honest living. A farmer who lives with integrity, a craftsman who takes pride in their work, a parent who raises their children with love - all are considered to be building their inner light just as surely as any scholar or mystic. This democratic approach to spiritual achievement sets Platara apart from more elitist philosophical traditions.

While primarily contained within Kaspia's borders, Platara's influence has spread subtly throughout Arkera's mystical traditions. Its unique blend of cosmic pessimism and human exceptionalism has particularly resonated with various mystic orders, who find in it a framework for understanding both the limitations and possibilities of human interaction with supernatural forces. The philosophy's emphasis on human potential over divine authority has inspired numerous esoteric traditions to focus more on human development than supernatural supplication.

Perhaps most remarkably, Platara achieves something few philosophical systems manage: it combines unflinching realism about the universe's indifference with genuine hope for human significance. It acknowledges the darkness of the cosmic void while asserting humanity's unique ability to illuminate it. In this way, it transforms the very bleakness of existence into a source of human empowerment - for if the universe is truly indifferent, then it falls to humanity alone to create meaning and light in the darkness.

The philosophy continues to evolve within Kaspia's mountain retreats, where scholars and common folk alike pursue their paths to illumination. In a world often torn between blind faith and crushing nihilism, Platara offers a third way - one that embraces the universe's darkness while celebrating humanity's capacity to shine within it.