Village of Chaldees
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INTRO
Contents
History
Chaldees was chartered by seaward Mihyaari in the discovery of Descendant lands from the distant realms of Ramasar and Rh’thor. In the decades preceding the establishment of the city, the people saw strife in the Descendant realms, first by the savagery and warmongering of the Seyami of Arcas, and once more at the hand of modern Almarican bureaucracies in the acquisition of land. Often in the people’s history have their cities and strongholds accommodated the outlandish, unsavoury likes of thieves and loan sharks on one hand, and the more cerebral type, including diviners, seers, and augurs, on account of a deep-embedded superstitious culture. The village of Chaldees is the culmination of their engineering expertise. It was, in its formative days, proposed to charter under the Sultanate of Kadarsi. Plighted by stagnancy, however, the crafty stock took matters into their own hands. For fifteen years, the glorious engineers of Ramasar toiled to fulfill the blueprints and machinations of the Pharaoh. And, in the year MDCCCLXXXIII, it was opened to the public. Among the groups and bands that the portly Chaldees accommodates is the Banu Sayatin, a motley Mihyaari order of warrior monks dedicated to following the lores of the Mahdic Texts and maintaining the existence of the Mihyaari people in diligent service to Raum. And its subsidiary, the El-Auguri, a chapter of seers, spies, and scholars who toil for their agenda of realizing and securing any omens of the messianic Shurad and his adversary, the Ashurat. Other pirates and brigands make their dwelling in Chaldees, but scant carry out their deeds on outsiders, preferring to keep their dirty work to the village itself and its inhabitants.
Castle System
Social class is, admittedly, rather fluid in the societies of Mihyaar. There is a tangible rift between the paupers and burghers, the poverty-stricken and the landowners, however caste, as it is, is indeterminate and fluctuant. Incidentally, the class-hierarchy is consistent to merchants and moguls, second only to the king, pharaoh, or prince, and followed by — in order — layman and/or priests, and the impoverished. There is no de jure caste system per se, however, partly ascribed to the fact that there is a sort of praise and acclaim for those who work in ritual deceit, artifice, and thievery. The basis of Mihyaari society, in fact, is built upon the rudimentary idea of establishing oneself and taking root in wealth and veneration through the art of sham: duplicity, and deception. A prince-elect might have found resolve in his position through fraud and skullduggery — these happenstances are far ofterner met with acceptance and reverence than reproach.
Ordinarily, the administration is conducted through a pharaoh, shah, or prince among greater throngs of collective Mihyaari. Liaison councils (e.g., king’s councils) were vested in the early epochs of Ramasar, but the flux in divination has since driven the idea into obscurity and out of the vox populi. Rather, a shah or pharaoh will instate an oracle or haruspex with whom he or she should navigate the waters of policy and diplomacy. These diviners were responsible for statecraft, in the stead of their lieges, and better equate to viziers or proconsuls than immediate councillors. The seat of Shah — or, Maharaja — is occupied by the old and learned tribe of Ur, whose bannermen and brothers trace blood and covenants to the cultural progenitor, Ur-Mihyaar.
Ksathriya
A caste in their own right, the Ksathriya (singular; Ksathriy) and less martially-inclined Brahmin (clerics, relative to interpretation [singular; Brahman]) are oath-bound vanguards of old Baal-Hazor. The learned swordsmen metamorphosed from crab-fishers and longshoremen in Mihyaar’s sea-side exodus, making haste to fend the pauperdom from the extraterrestrial fiends in Yulthar-lands, and the horselord marauders who swore by sword and saddle in Ramasar. Historically, however, the ideal Ksathriy or Brahman is more spiritually, fundamentally involved, and concerned with the world. They pertain to the principle of preserving and maintaining the unperturbed nature of the world — that is, life, death, and rebirth, and thwarting the pursuers and plotters of Nemurîtòri: primordial, Abyssal imbalance.
Likewise in esteem to the samurai of the Oyashiman isle, the Ksathriya and Brahmin are privy to a chief, a certain privilege otherwise barred from the paupers of Mihyaar save for certain patricians far and few between. An established Ksathriy is afforded the right to kill without a warrant, otherwise reserved for none bar the shah or pharaoh. Having given rise to the threat of mutinies and uprisings in the past, an air of unease follows the gaunt faces of the Ksathriya, bringing with them justice and turbulence in equal capacities. It is worthy of note that the honor which was possessing the reputation of a Ksathriy was not a reflection of mastery over a certain martial ability, but rather encompasses a grasp of a range of concepts. These include, but are not limited to, forming bottlenecks or tackling guerilla battle formations, or Vyuhas, fairness of judgment, and tactical awareness. Ksathriya is among the patrician class, formally, and are thereon obligated to adopt a second surname succeeding their aver nav.
This reputation comes at the expense of peril, however. The vowed Ksathriya accrue a number of mantle-specific markings, tattoos, and signets, and their skin and rind is sought among the butchers of Ramasar. Hence it is often said, becoming bound by oath as a Ksathriy or Brahman seals one’s fate as predator and prey.
Insturments of War
Even in the blind art of war, Mihyaari footmen and Ksathriya vied to immortalize and distinguish their cultural identity. This was predominately exercised in the armour and accouterment that the men and women of Mihyaar enjoyed, but liberties were practiced similarly in the unpopular weapon craft.
Militaristic infrastructure became chief among the pursuits of the radically unpopular Ur-Belshazzar, as all varieties of mail and scale were taken priority by the welders and smiths of Baal-Hazor. Ordinarily, a footman’s varman — that is, his or her entire ensemble of arms and defensive garment — relished a composite armor of deerskin and mail. Renditions of the gambeson, unbeknownst to the Mihyaari, had resolved, albeit fashioned from a coat of leather and pangolin scales. They were traditionally lacquered and gilded to evoke fear in their adversaries. Plate armor and lamellar were less popular but fixed and connected with a wire. Metal or leather gauntlets or arm guards were typically accoutred around the left arm/hand, to avoid any conflict or friction with the bowstring. Most uniquely, however, are the greaves, spurs, anklets, and various garlands which wreathed these mail-clad footmen, hallmarks of the Mihyaari identity.
Interestingly, Mihyaari welders fashioned their adaptations of traditional weaponry from their green pastures in Yulthar. The Oyashiman Tachi was crafted by Ksathriy and infantrymen throughout the numbered trips and diaspora, only made more wicked. And therefrom, the talwar was made, which presented a curvature around the medial half of the sword. The lacquered hilt consisted of a flange that was typically disc-shaped, fixed with a cord or wire.
Architecture
The pride of Rh’thor and the early descendant realms was the old city of Baal-Hazor and the surrounding feudal townsteads. The entryway was a broad aperture of five hundred cubits in height and one-hundred cubits in breadth, built and brick-laid with the intent that caravans and chariots might pass to and from the cities’ battlements and bastions. Truthfully, however, the gates of Baal-Hazor in Mihyaar were as many as the landward ends of the streets, their fringes decorated with figures of elephants and beasts from stone not longer known to men. Tall tales told that the edifice of Mihyaar and their many homes were from lapis-lazuli, and carbuncle, and other choice materials, but rather they were of glazed bricks and rough-cast. There were likewise tall gardens from which hung fulgent greens, and streams ran from between the desert swathes in the interest of agriculture with a profusion of interconnected bridges. And, fountains from whom have cast scented waters in tall jets.
At least, that is what was vividly expressed through the frescoes of the city. The roads were narrow, far and few between, its edifice and many homes like megalithic blocks of plaster or limestone, with elaborate motifs in the tilework. Complexes were far more prevalent throughout the architecture and stewardship than individual villas, attributed to the minimal effort that needed to be exerted. Articles of architecture from neighboring cultures were adopted. Vegetal motifs of Kadaksleri architecture, for instance, were most considerable. In fact, Konchak verandas define the vast majority of the invariable architecture of Mihyaar, which is ever in flux. Individual battlements are often joined with minarets, slender spires which make for ease of broadcast and spreading word between people. Meanwhile, homes and stories are often integrated behind traditionally Qali facades and arches, many and various: horseshoe, and lambrequin, and so on.
Practices
Skintaking
It was said by the Mihyaari that with time, all temporal, material things find their way back to their earliest possessor. That was, without the skin. Being that the signets, and names, and covenants of homes were often borne on a person’s rind by way of tattoos and inscriptions, the skin was made, by designation, a person’s tapestry. Hence, in trial and tribulation, it is a Mihyaari man or woman’s ever-avowed oath to grow their tapestry. Merit and value of skin, for this reason, were particularly especial. On a more sacral level, the belief was held by the Mihyaari that the skin is what binds the soul or spirit to the material world; anchoring him or she to the realm. On the frontlines attended by the Mihyaari, who had his skin was not yet dead. Thus, taking one’s skin — the wicked practice of flaying — was chief among the endeavors of the Ksathriya and Brahmin, the noble and oath-vested warmongers and warriors of Ramasar. It was the only way to ensure one had truly left the world: letting no trace of his or her being known to any soul save empty consciences. This came often at the cost of relative familial history being lost to the annals of time. Traditionally, a Brahman or Ksathriy warrior would strip their foe of their skin and rinse it of impurities, enriching it with jewels in the stead of eyes, etcetera. Certain sources document that the noblest houses would cling to the skin of their viziers or pharaohs, hanging them here and there and about as curtains and draperies, to ensure the charms of those kings and governors would not leave the old homes. The practice is, however, for all intents and purposes, the greatest shame and taint to an individual or dynasty.
Bull-Leaping
A cultural mainstay and an art in its own right, the ritual sport of bull-leaping was practiced in the bulk of Ramasar’s regions and cantons. Much to its attributed name, the activity details an acrobat or Ksathriya and/or Brahmin warrior — male and female — literally vaulting to, over, or from a charging bull. This would often entail grasping or seizing the dual horns of a bull, through whose support the acrobats would somersault or practice all manner of agile, gymnastic feats over the bull. At the moment when the stunt artist grasped the animal’s horns, the bull rabidly forced or jerked its head upward, providing the acrobat with the necessary momentum.
Variations of the sport are practiced. Occasionally, the ringleader might release a bull into an assorted group of acrobats, sending it into a rabid frenzy as participants might attempt to bridle the animal and vault over to the other side. Or, the olympian might practice a more streamlined rendition of the sport, wherein they would pole-vault over the bull — the tamer of the sports.
The religious and cultural significance of the practice is disputed. In a broader sense, it portrays the Mihyaari people’s hubris and larger-than-life approaches to the harshest climates and most arduous feats. Ritual acrobats have attributed an allegorical meaning to the sport. That, the bull characterizes/represents the sun or the elements, filtering the able-bodied from the weak, in the clergy. Similarly, bull-leaping is shared across coming-of-age rites and electing ministers and governors: a means for determining caste and value in society.
Greetings
When exchanging hellos, it is known good faith to spit at the opposite fellow’s feet. In a land and climate where water is pertinent to survival, offering such to a stranger tightens bonds and entails a generous, amicable kindness that is not often seen elsewhere.
Burial Rites
Men and women of Mihyaar hold stock in the belief that the dead need not be restricted nor consigned to the earth. Individual rites and practices are unnumbered, of course, but a rotation of means for burial is shared between the covens and families of Mihyaar and Baal-Hazor. The most streamlined and seminal of these services is cremation. Predictably, this practice discloses that the deceased be reduced to ash following a celebration of dimensions proportional to the life and death of the individual, hence merchants and kings are more often sent away in events of greater magnitude and pageantry. Thereafter, he or she is blazed by any convenient means, and resigned to a tub where their remains may be abluted/cleansed with.
Tantamount to cremation is mummification. Reserved for gentry and merchants, at least, the service is consistent with decorating the deceased in the most decadent and gaudy of designs, that is, amulets, talismans, and any monetary possessions or curios. The individual is thereafter sepulchered in a sarcophagus which was often made a display of in the deceased’s court, were they a king or landowner of sorts. However, this practice is largely impractical, being that death, as it stood, is believed as impermanent, at a grander scale, and the individual would have little to no use of any talismans or coin consigned to the sarcophagus.
Sky burial, the last of the burial services widely accepted, is penultimate to cremation. The observance details the newly deceased being posted or put to rest at a high elevation, often at sand dunes and hillocks. This ritual gives way for birds of prey, vultures, and larks to deliver the cadaver elsewhere, returning the deceased to another life and continuing the wheel of nature. In the end, though, it is important to note that, given the spiritual impermanence of death, funerary practices in Mihyaar hold little to no sacred merit. They are only pleasantries.
Ras-Vida
Ras-Vida is interpreted as a blanket term for any manner of divination or natural medicine. The word is homogeneous to alchemy, however, shared between the practices of tantric prophecy, witchery, and oracle work.
A far-fetch from traditional scientific ‘alchemy’, the Mihyaar partake of spiritual methods in which the main goal is divination, but other considerable outcomes range from anything between healing and foresight. While Ras-Vida revolves around the concept of the immortality of the heart and the earth, attempting the elixir of life is looked down upon, as it is directly conducive to Nemurîtòri. This is because it promotes only immortality of the body, and the spirit is thought to be persistent in the land beyond death. Hence, mastery over the living is not the primary endeavor of Ras-Vida.
Ras-Vida is the tantric medicine of cycles and the doctrine of earthen elements. There lie different plants and metals that have an intrinsic connection to the metaphor of alchemy. The symbols, signs, and mixtures: they all have meanings beneath their physical uses and processes. To practice alchemy is to practice divination. But beyond that, Ras-Vida remains all-encompassing. There are rituals in which the world is questioned and interpreted to learn more about the past, the future, or the now. One of which is an old practice where a handful of salts is thrown into the air and the fate of said salts is left to the elements, or otherwise cast into the fire. Details about the aforementioned things can then be discerned by examining the pattern of the salts. The intricacies of Ras-Vida are ultimately too vast to summarise in a few paragraphs, and the practices date back to long ages. There is much to be discovered.
Naming Conentions
Not dissimilar to the Velians of Atlas, the names of these wizened Yultharans are composed of three individual parts, tethered to one another by hyphens. These names, disambiguated, are dubbed Kaṭanat [singular; Kaṭan]. Designation arrangements vary between castes far and wide, however, evidenced by some patricians’ tendency to affix a second ‘surname’ [e.g. Dzugi, Bihari, Maratha, Badzo] or a pauper’s inclination to eschew their familial designation altogether. Notwithstanding, these labels are, as in any matter, pertinent to the day-to-day activities of a Mihyaari. The order in which these three names appear is typical: familial designation [gentilicum nomen], given name [praenomen], aver nav/talisman name/et. al [cognomen], and, among patrician houses, disambiguation and/or second surname (e.g. Doe-John-Jack [Everyman]).
Familial designation; Surname
Borne by the Mihyaari as keepsakes of the houses and fathers from which they hail, this is the filiation that precedes the personal and/or given name of a Mihyaari individual. Mementos of the forebears of old, great honor are held in these designations – those typically scored upon tomes and scrawled across tablets. As such, these tokens of parentage are prefixed to the personal name, fixed before the given name, typically with a hyphen. Surname designations are spilt from father to son, and are tokens of covenants between bloodlines and dynasties.
- Sample: Šar–, Ur–, Mât–, Shah–, Kali–, Yr–, Bhat–, Ram–
Given Designation; Given Name
A Mihyaari given name is the name which he/she is, in most conventions, referred to by. It is, in all regards, a personal name fixed between the surname and the aver nav. Where the second designation is seemingly ever in flux and can change on a whim nigh-always, the given name is writ in stone and is not so often changed without reason. Mihyaari nomenclature calls for the given name to be assigned at birth, lest the child shall assume a bastard designation.
- Sample: Shaddam–, Belshezzar–, Darius–, Arbaaz–, Vyasa–, Misra–, Shaj–, Kabir–, Raja–
Designated through tireless, arduous trials and feats, as opposed to birthright, the aver nav, oft as not, suffixed to the given name, functions in two distinct ways. The scarcity of names in the ranks of the Mihyaari bred a second means for designation – almost formal nicknames – which took the shape of aver nav. A layman’s take on aver nav nomenclature would liken them simply too informal ‘second’ affiliations: the actuality is more rigorous and has more layers. Awarded by others, the first variation which an aver nav takes is that of a token of its bearer’s quirk(s) and feat(s) [e.g., club-footed, left-handed]. It was common for these ‘second names’ to be leveraged in other ways, however. Mothers would ascribe to their newborns ‘secretive names,’ or ‘talisman names’ to ward off illness and ill fortune. In this manner of nomenclature, the second name, aver nav, remains unspoken, and unheard of, bar by the ascribed’s mother and/or father. Take, for instance, a child’s given name, or praenomen, is Jahan, and its aver nav is Sahar. It would often happen that an illness might occur, and vie to have power over the child: hence, they would seek the child out by their name. Lesser wretches and evils — as spirits — are privy to aver nav designations. Given that this aver nav is unuttered, at large, though, the wretch fails to accost the child — leaving him out of harm’s winding way. Contrarily, an aver nav is similarly used, on occasions, to distinguish the branch or cadet family from which one hails. Hence, this context is more akin to disambiguation of one’s parentage, than a lesser name.
Tarditions & Rituals
Carousal and Celebration
A tonic against the carnage and turbulence of their history, the folk of Baal-Hazor are merrymakers. The temporal, worldly pleasures and means for amusement are coveted — as devices to muddle and take what little power sits in the mutinies and entropy of their history. These people relish in earthly revelry, launching the basest of occasions and happenstances into garish festivities, and find resolve in the chimes and chords of pompous celebration. Ergo, there is a certain helter-skelter and frenzy to the activities and conventions of the people of Baal-Hazor. Punctuality is not an absolute priority, and is outside of their regard. There is always solace in the wildness of leisure — be that, cavendish and tobacco, or ballads and carols.
Ritual Decepition
Desperation and beggary have fostered a new tongue that the bannermen of old Mihyaar have adopted as their native jargon: lies and deceit. Because of their adversity, the Mihyaari of Baal-Hazor relished the base activities of guile and trickery and debased themselves among one another if the vile act would bring riches and resources. Treachery, fraud, and subterfuge were excused in the pauperdom, in its antiquity, established as pillars of society, by which means they would turn their hovels to halls, and meadows to Moorish forts which cast a colossus shade that would ensheath the hamlet in a twilight only quelled by the lights and wicks of celebration and festivity. It was here that their haphazard games of poker and other fiendish wagers would crescendo into dynasties which inspired reverence and fear in equal gravity. Mihyaari's tall tales would later tell of a swindler whose lies would resound with a such cadence that he could lay domain over snakes, serpents, and the likes, launching him into the fruits of strategic stardom.
Ablution in Ash
Smut and cinder cling to the skin and rind of all Mihyaari. From the fringes of their fires, which danced throughout the night, they coveted ash and soot: cleansing instruments. The ashes which foul their faces are mementos of the long-dead, and fire is the great lockbox of things — those sealed away, within which the char of firewood, and the spirits of those rendered lost to life and time, can travel between the corners of the world. On the dawn of each arrival, a Mihyaari will relieve the coke and soot of his forebear, and char his features with a mask of smut and fire-sediment — almost talismans to stave off ill-wishes and misfortune. The Mihyaari have long held stock in this superstition, that it has crossed the threshold from cultural convention to religious covenant. Ash is a tool through which lords are consecrated, and thieves are cut down; through which sinners are chastised, and saints are immortalized.
Brand and Signets
A rite bred from breaking bread with their brothers in Rh’thor, brands and tattoos streak across the frame of a Mihyaari from head to heels. To each seal is its value, and purpose: be that, a mark of arms, lineage, or accolades. Cultic devotion and amuletic protection had their hand in body art and the tattoos of the Mihyaari — inspiring forces of fortune and the powers that be to join paths with he or her who has accepted their Rh’thoraen forbearance. As opposed to the traditional means for tattoo inscription, the Mihyaari exercised branding in a ritual that called for burnt candlenut oil. This solution was ordinarily practiced through rending the skin and saturating the tissue with motifs of all varieties and qualities. Memento Legatum was said of the Rh’thoraens. It is for this reason that flying is so lamented, among the likes of old Baal-Hazor’s folk. The rind has been pulled from the pulp: no traces nor mementos.
All That Glitters
When entombed in the shade of Baal-Hazor, that mausoleum world of dark and dusk, only the torches of celebration were devoted to quelling that total lightlessness. And, from the bowels of the earth, the miners of Mihyaar procured diamond teardrops and loaves and wedges of gold and relished the many beads and baubles, and gemstones and jewels. In that time so premature, when the people of Baal-Hazor had only just discovered the fruits of drunkenness and carousing, the last slivers of light in old Mihyaar were focused through gilded ornaments and curios. Glassy chains, hooks, and encrusted threads ensnare the folk of Baal-Hazor: and, vanity was their plight. To those who could afford it, at least. To this very day, the approach of a Mihyari is, often as not, heralded by the ringing and clinking of glistering baubles and decorations — testaments to their decadence.
Hooks Galore
The dervishes of old Baal-Hazor developed all manner of interesting designs and sacraments. Their criminal enterprises led them to many a revelation, from which they became privy to the lamentable avenues of flagellation in self-condemnation and decoration. Often will the laymen of Mihyaar embed demented hooks and hewed points into their skin: the bulb suspended at one cleft of their ash-caked face, and the narrow prick of the hook jutting from the next. All fashions of briars and needles crest the clerics of this peninsula, sounding out in pangs of contrition and repentance. From driving skewers behind the eye to perforating and piercing the skin beneath the nails, survival is tenuous to those with the gall to engineer and contrive the most terrible, doleful of piercings and modifications.
Reincarnation
All men, be they rich or poor, return to their mantle in the land beyond death. The Mihyaari, much like other cultures of their time and region, long sought for dominion over death. Inhibition in the face of the Rh’thoraen practice of necromancy, however, would prove to hinder their mastery over eternal, primaeval rest. To warm their spirits and console themselves in their uncertainty, the men of Baal-Hazor spun tall tales of men brought to the world after their passing by the powers-that-be. Relivened, or reincarnated, to fulfill unkept vows and oaths. They put stock in a threefold cycle, consistent with life, death, and rebirth. Even then, however, undeath and evading death contribute in part to Nemurîtòri, the mantra of conflicting with mortal order — an inherently wrong machination. Thus, living from beyond is only on a spiritual level, so as not to vertically oppose the natural, threefold-order.
Gorhen's Folly
Derived from the poor soul who served as the first recorded instance of this ailment, it is said that those who wander the vast expanse of sand for too long are struck by fallacy and fantasy, babbling about kingdoms and mighty noble folk that never was. All manner of healers have proclaimed cures, but their authenticity always varies. What is certain, however, is a certain wariness when trekking the desert they call home, for it may just as soon devour their mind before their body
Politics
The village of Chaldees is operated on two distinct levels. The first of which is the ceremonial leadership, consisting of the Pharaoh at the absolute top of the food chain, a sovereign ruled by mandate from blessed ancestors. Directly underneath this individual is the ministerial body of the Pharaoh—the council—each of whose members act less in individual capacities, but more as an advisory for the monarch. The advisory acts as a divine synod, extracting decrees and directions for rule via clairvoyant ancestral transmission, purely cultural practice, and holding no real lore weight, conveying said mandates to the Pharaoh. This puts the advisory at being the ‘true’ authority on the ceremonial/titular administrative front, the members of whom are selected by the Pharaoh based on one’s ability to track their nobility and capacity to oversee the village.
At the village-level, there is the streamlined republic authority that has taken root among the marauders of Chaldees: the Beth es-Sultan, a senate operated by individuals of high financial standing and other influential citizens—usually pirates—which act as the main republic body of the village. These advisors hold office, in most cases, for life, but much as is the pattern with pirates, are traditionally deposed by other brigand groups. There are initially five seats in this senate. In the beginning, this republic was structured by an election participated in by the citizenry, in which every household in the village would cast votes for the town officials who would attend the Beth es-Sultan. This senate is the chief legislative company within the village and is responsible for managing charters and laws within the village. It is often customary (but not necessary) to elect a Gesserit, a president/magistrate of the senate, much like a tribune, responsible for coordinating the senate itself, but whose vote holds as much weight as any other senator.
Demographics
The population of Chaddlees mainly consists of Farfolk and Humans.
Geography
The Village of Chaddlees is located on the southern part of Almaris inhabiting the rebuilt ruins of an old Oasis.
