All eyes

Cosmology in Brief

Everything has a soul. Souls are born when a new, natural form appears in the world. They represent the existence of that form. A soul is existence itself, while form provides essence — the content. Souls are merely a life-force: when a body or shape reaches the end of its time, the soul departs, slowly purifies itself of any memory of its former vessel, and then inhabits a new form. There is no memory of previous lives, because the soul is pure existence, and memory belongs to form.

What makes an individual life unique is its body — its shape. The soul’s journey continues until it has inhabited every kind of form that exists: once a human, once a stone, once a particle of air, and so on — until it becomes “complete.” Only then does it merge with the core of existence, expanding the totality of space.

In the beginning, there was no space at all. Out of nothing, the first elementary particles appeared — already as fused soul and body. From their combinations, new forms began to emerge. That’s why in the early world, the soul’s journey was short. As the world grows, the journey becomes proportionally longer. And the larger the world, the harder it is to expand it.

One day, the first human was born, and with them, a new soul. From that moment on, all other souls must eventually become human as part of their journey. However, not every newborn human has a new soul — this occurred only with the first. All others are inhabited by souls continuing their travels from other forms, entering the embryo in the third month of pregnancy.

After death, the soul enters a formless state and purifies itself in the realm of dreams. When exactly a new shape is formed and a new soul is born remains the greatest mystery.

Disrupting the soul’s journey is a violation of the natural order — of reality itself. It leads to corruption, erosion of existence and form, and gives rise to Chaos. Yet a total lack of disruption brings only stagnation — the absence of all change.

List of Deities and Their Associated States

• Jaruga – The Current – Lord of Mud – river god of birth, death, and change.
• Mavitae – The Shroud – former god of life and death – deceased.
• EndiEndi – The Sky – lord of night and day, and of the future – worshipped by the Zundari (Red Elves).
• The region of Scalp has no god.
• Amarer – Wedge – lord of pride, ambition, and achievement – brother of Lexarion.
• Lexarion – The Judge – lord of power, hierarchy, slavery, and law – brother of Wedge.
• Luxuria – The Bellow – goddess of purity, debauchery, excess, trade, fortune, and risk.
• Nox – The Shepherd – god of sleep and the dead.
• Aria – The Breeze – goddess of freedom, joy, beauty, and travel, worshipped in the Free Lands, though most inhabitants are either nonbelievers or follow the gods of the regions they fled from.
• Tree of Life – Forest elves believe that the great tree overlooking the Lake of Cleansing is a god of endurance, earthly life, growth, gentleness, and hope.
• Wyr – Harm – lord of Pain, mourning the suffering even as he feeds on it.
• Saylateh – The Gesture – a genderless god of magic – missing.

Races

Humans and dwarves are the oldest known races — neither remembers a history without the other. The Lobo came later, though it’s unclear how long they had already been on the continent, as they always kept to their own territory. The last to appear were the elves, who arrived from the wild and untamed reaches of nature.

March of the Condemned

A procession of people who willingly and publicly walk toward a socially accepted mass suicide in the Lake of Cleansing. Naked and covered in tattoos, they march to bid farewell to a life they no longer wish to live. Renouncing the march after joining it is considered the greatest shame - possible, but it condemns one to eternal isolation. The march is seen as nature’s way of purging itself. The Damned gather for such pilgrimages often, though irregularly, except in winter when it is too cold to walk bare. They are forbidden from owning anything beyond small personal items, like a pouch, and beg for food along the way. Most choose the longest possible route to the lake, to have time to “say goodbye to life.” Since the Lake of Cleansing lies at the continent’s center, they often circle around it before dying, making them a common sight almost everywhere. Bystanders treat them as the living dead - objects of contempt for those who have declared themselves failed unions of body and soul - though the march itself is regarded as sacred. Pilgrims are considered “untouchable,” yet often driven away as “filthy” or “tainted”, sometimes by force. The Lake of Cleansing lies within Flosari territory, who allow no outsiders within their borders - except these suicidal pilgrims, whose final stop is always at the same port on the forest’s edge. When the Damned enter the lake, their bodies sink and never resurface, while their souls are said to ascend to the sky - unseen, yet for a moment water streams from their forms into the still surface below. That fleeting sight is considered the most beautiful in the world, watched by onlookers from a distant hill at the border of Flosari lands.

Dreamland/Realm of Dream

In this world, the realm of the dead and the realm of dreams are one and the same. After death, souls pass into the Dreamland, where they spend several years shedding the memory of their former bodies. During this time, they wander vast fields tended by the Shepherd — the god of sleep — before continuing their journey through new forms.

The Shepherd, often simply called Sleep, is a neutral deity. He does not judge or intervene — his role is to guide the dead through their transition, allowing them to dissolve what remains of their past life before rejoining the cycle of the soul’s transformation.

Dream

A nation bordering the mountains behind which lies the Dreamland/Realm of Dream — the realm of phantoms and the dead — home of Sleep, the Shepherd, god of dreams and the afterlife. He herds the souls of the dead across abstract fields of pastel grass until they are cleansed of the memory of their former bodies and can continue their journey through forms (see Cosmology). Though the Dreamland is technically material, no one who has entered it in life has ever returned.

The State of Dream is inhabited equally by Onisari (White Elves) and humans. They lead a slow-paced life, and some openly prefer dreaming to waking life. In the mines of the Dreaming Mountains, they extract Dreamstones — the second most valuable resource on the continent. This mineral, steeped in the power of the Dreamland, can be ground and inhaled to instantly transport the user’s consciousness into a dream, even enabling encounters with the dead.

Travel through the irrational Dreamland is not simple, which is why some high-ranking priests of Sleep become Dream Guides. Their role is to escort those who inhale Dreamstone smoke to meet their deceased relatives — so long as those souls still retain memory of their bodily forms.

Dream Guides should not be confused with mediums. A medium is someone who has partially sacrificed themselves to become a voice for the dead within the world of the living — enabling the reverse journey of Dreamstones. Becoming a medium requires years of training and acceptance through the Kiss of the Shepherd in the fields of the dead. Most mediums are those who, through self-sacrifice, seek to atone for past wrongs.

Power rests with the royal family — the Sleepers. Dream is part of the Northern Alliance, which also includes the Well and Wedge.

Dwarves

Dwarves are one of the oldest peoples of the continent, coexisting with humans for so long that neither side remembers a world without the other. They are biomineral beings — a fusion of tissue and mineral, closer to “living artifacts” than ordinary organisms. Their bodies are a design they actively realize.

Dwarves evolved as colonies of cells that, over millions of years, penetrated porous mineral structures and used them as scaffolding. Over time, tissue and stone merged into a single organism, where muscles and soft tissue lie mostly on the outside, organs develop within the fissures of a mineral “skeleton,” and the role of the nervous system is fulfilled by a mineral network — a conduction system based on vibrational resonance within stone. Information in a dwarf’s body does not travel linearly like a nerve impulse; instead, it propagates as a wave — a vibration strikes the mineral and disperses through the entire mass at once, reaching every part of the organism.

A formed dwarf is one with their mineral. Vibrations pass continuously between tissue and stone, shaping the condition of the body. What a dwarf experiences — exertion, emotion, faith, fear — imprints itself into the resonance of their mineral and feeds back into the body. Mineral Resonance, however, does not end with the individual. Vibrations can pass from one dwarf’s mineral “skeleton” to another, functioning as a subconscious information network connecting the entire society. These vibrations are not a “commanded will,” but rather a tendency most follow within a collective culture. This shared “hum” is not a specific message, but a felt cultural-biological pressure. Dwarves do not perceive every vibration around them, only those that are strong and repeated.

Dwarves are born as a biological mass called Kyrwaga, which is placed onto a block of mineral (ranging from gold to coal). This mass burns into the structure, adapting it as its home, and gradually learns to produce more of it through a slow chemical process, allowing it to grow. A newly formed Kyrwaga spends several years shaping its mineral before achieving the true form of a dwarf, which matures around the age of 40 and lives for nearly 200 years. A dwarf gains a soul once the mineral form has been fully shaped by the Kyrwaga.

Kyrwaga carries a genetic instruction on how to shape its mineral into a dwarven form, but that form is not only a product of evolution — it is also cultural. Dwarves can, to a degree, decide how they shape themselves as they form their “skeleton.” This is the source of their pride: their form is not only optimal for life underground, but also chosen. They are the only known organisms that have given themselves their own shape.

When a particular form of life and body is considered proper across generations, the resonance of the community influences Kyrwaga already in the womb. For a year, it develops within the vibrational field of the mother’s mineral and the broader society. It does not receive a finished blueprint, but its nature is pre-tuned. When it later shapes its mineral, it still follows its genetic baseline, but alters it according to what it has already been attuned to before birth.

Because of this, instead of waiting millions of years for mutations, dwarves “cultivate” their future through the collective lifestyle of their society, which sets their mineral “skeletons” into specific vibrations that influence future generations.

For this reason, dwarves are partially artificial beings — not a product of chance, but a deliberate fusion of biological tissue with a chosen mineral mass. This makes them closer to living artifacts than animals: their body is a construction project they carry out themselves. However, such projects are difficult and require long-term thinking — and such endeavors inevitably suffer from pressures of the present.

When Kyrwaga shapes its mineral into a final form, the required stone is relatively small (typically around one meter by one meter). As the dwarf grows, however, the living tissue learns how to gradually expand it, so that after death, more mineral remains than there was at the beginning. A dwarf’s body can never produce a different mineral than the one it originally shaped as its “skeleton,” and must periodically consume that same mineral to avoid degradation. Those whose skeletons are made of rare or inedible materials (such as gold) require chemical catalysts to transform other minerals into the appropriate substance. As a result, only the wealthy — or those heavily dependent on alchemical infusions — can sustain such forms, often as part of long-term social ambitions or as a form of redemption for past generations. Despite many extreme attempts, dwarves have never succeeded in creating a stable surplus of precious materials from their own bodies.

Kyrwaga can fail in the process of shaping its skeleton. In such cases, it dies.

Dwarves have sexes and humanoid forms because they chose them. This is another source of pride. Occasionally, Kyrwaga develops incorrectly or is influenced by distorted vibrations, shaping its mineral into aberrant forms. Such cases are always considered “diseased” and are destroyed before full formation. If such a being completes its form and gains a soul, it becomes a rejected anomaly — a form that almost never reproduces. As a result, the Pillar of Existence quickly forgets it, and it falls out of the cycle of wandering souls.

Every dwarf is a source of valuable material — individually small, but collectively significant. Upon death, their bodies are left in burial grounds, where the tissue decomposes and the mineral parts fuse with others, forming veins of ore. Over time, accumulated dwarven remains can transform into entire geological formations or even mountains. Because of this, dwarves face social pressure regarding their diet, ensuring they become valuable material after death. Mines are sacred, as they are often also burial grounds. Buildings are part of the family, as they come directly from ancestors. Society is divided between those who were formed from better materials and those who were not. New generations grow directly upon the old, as Kyrwaga is placed on the best mineral remains from burial sites. Mining is exhumation. A miner is a profession akin to a necromancer. Working in a mine is literally breaking apart the bodies of ancestors with a pickaxe.

Due to their nature, dwarves revere stone, minerals, and gemstones as sacred. Mines and workshops are places of highest respect. Trade in such materials has always been controversial — it brings great profit, but also means selling both ancestors and future generations at once. As a result, dwarves hunt for “pure” veins of ore not tied to family lines, allowing trade without moral burden.

Dwarves evolved underground and discovered the surface only a few thousand years ago. As a result, they are the only people who can see in complete darkness. They are also resistant to poisons and many diseases, as most of their body is mineral. They can consume stone, though only mineral-rich substances are nutritionally meaningful. Magic affects them in unusual ways — they are more resistant to it, but when it does take hold, corruption is more severe, as it affects both mineral and flesh, often resulting in radiation.

Their music is dominated by drums, as rhythm aligns with the vibrational nature of their mineral skeletons.

Their medicine is a blend of healing, stonecraft, and sculpture.

They are divided into two subtypes: larger, more massive dwarves from the Wells, and smaller, lighter ones from the Speaking Mountain.

They are ruled by family clans, priests, and trade corporations that conduct business with the surface (traveling in mobile fortresses pulled by massive creatures called Goligari), for whom contracts are the highest value. Dwarves also operate the only international bank — the Common Bank — where gold is not stored. Instead, dwarven remains are held as currency. Money literally has a name and a body.

Zundari / The Great Bridge

The Zundari are red elves who inhabit the vast jungle stretching between the northern and southern regions. They worship Endi-Endi, the Sky — lord of night and day, the sun, and the future. While some doubt it, the Zundari possess genuine foresight: by offering sacrifices to their god and studying signs within shadowy visions cast in great flames, they learn to interpret probable futures revealed by the Sky.

Their entire culture is built around knowledge of these likely futures, and they act to promote the ones that suit their aims. However, they find themselves in a tragic position. For centuries, living in semi-feral isolation and wholly devoted to the religious ecstasy of divine foresight, they alienated themselves from the rest of the world, considering it unworthy of their sacred knowledge. They killed anyone who attempted to pass through their wild domain — the shortest route from the Fertile Lands to the north.

Eventually, the Northern Alliance dedicated enormous resources to repel Zundari attacks long enough to build a massive bridge above their jungle. Crossing the Great Bridge takes four days, but it greatly accelerates and reduces the cost of human grain migration and flour transport. The bridge was completed only recently and remains the cause of ongoing conflict between the North and the red elves.

Volari

Volari, also called the High Ones, are blue elves named ironically — they live at altitude, on floating islands powered by energy cores harvested from Uurundich. These islands are technological remnants of an ancient, extinct race known as the Yrade, who referred to themselves as such in long-forgotten languages.

The Volari now hover above the mist-choked terrain between Dream and Tribunal. The surface below is largely unexplored and widely believed to be infested with monstrous beings. The Volari once lived there in harmony with the humid wilds, but abandoned both land and identity when they uncovered the floating isles and the Yrade’s frozen technological records.

They reinvented themselves as heirs to that lost race, obsessed with continuing the Yrade’s research. That knowledge — and its Volari offshoots — is their greatest treasure and their most guarded secret. Arrogant and proud, they see themselves as superior to lesser minds. They rarely venture beyond their territories, though they maintain a trading presence in the Temporary City on the Fertile Lands, where they exchange energy cores harvested in ritual hunts for Uurundich, along with technological innovations. Recent breakthroughs include an energy rifle and a turbine water engine for riverboats.

Among them are brilliant but reckless scientists and engineers, some of whom have turned to dark forces in their pursuit of overcoming their own mental limitations. Others attempt to blend magic and technology, drawing the ire of neighboring Tribunal and the Demagus order.

The Dżannilidi

The Dżannilidi are the oldest and most arrogant branch of the Volari — proud innovators known for fusing magic and technology. They openly mock the anti-magic crusades of the Tribunal and the Demagi, seeing such efforts as primitive fear masquerading as virtue. Their goal is to perfect the body through external intervention, treating flesh as a machine waiting to be improved.

They invented the Runic Eyes — potent arcane constructs that replace the natural eyeballs, allowing the user to channel magic through sight alone. To them, the ancient Yrade were incomplete beings, limited by their lack of magical aptitude. In secret, the Dżannilidi are developing a localized weather-control engine, meant to subtly destabilize the climates of their enemies’ lands — sabotage disguised as nature’s whim.

Amara Dżannilidi, an ancient sorceress, was one of the three who performed the Sealing Ritual that bound the Yrade within the Labyrinth. She would turn in her grave knowing her bloodline has forgotten the truth about those beings and now reveres them as models of perfection.

The Lands of Volari

There’s truth in the common saying that the Volari destroyed the ground beneath their own feet. Through unchecked experimentation and magical disasters born of arrogance, they rendered their homeland nearly uninhabitable. They no longer walk their own soil — because it is lethal to do so.

Once, these lands were home to giants. Thousands of years ago, the Volari fled into the skies to escape them. Later, drunk on their mastery of arcanotech, they believed they had exterminated the giants. In reality, the giants retreated underground, becoming colossal mole-like beings that burrow vast tunnels beneath the stone. They dare not surface again, terrified of the warped monstrosities now ruling the surface — creatures born from the Volari’s fusion of magic and machinery gone wrong.

Riverfolk

A gathering of people who have left their nations behind — or were born on the water — and have dedicated their lives to traveling the continent along the Jaruga River. Using energy-powered ships capable of moving upstream, they form a drifting society made up of mixed cultures, serving as the primary force behind interregional trade. Though officially neutral, they are of course susceptible to bribery, but cannot afford to fall fully into corruption if they wish to remain trusted as intermediaries.

They live on water and in ports, with no permanent homeland. Ship captains are sovereigns on their decks, bowing to no one. This results in constant internal tension within what is technically the largest trade guild in Zaya — though it is not truly a guild, but rather a chaotic web of stateless riverfolk who treat each other like a dysfunctional extended family.

Scalp

A province of the state of Tribunal, Scalp was established as a showcase — proof that the anti-magic crusade does not seek to abolish all supernatural power, but to regulate it safely. Here, necromancy is permitted, but only for “benevolent” purposes. The result is an entirely new economy and moral framework: upon death, even nobles are surrendered to the state, which reanimates their bodies as zombies tasked with performing manual labor. The living receive payment in their stead.

This posthumous, mindless service lasts for three years, until the body decays beyond use. At that point, it is returned to the family for burial, and the deceased is honored as someone who served the public in death. In practice, this results in two funerals: one upon death (without the body) and another when the remains are finally returned.

The province is filled with zombies wrapped in orange robes and hung with pouches of herbs to mask the stench of decay, silently maintaining public infrastructure. Scalp has grown bold — there are whispers of secessionist ambitions, especially given that it was sovereign before the War of Unification. The province is ruled by Baron Bassani Woodenbone.

Lobbia

A crescent-shaped mountain peninsula with an island at its center, home to the Lobo — strange and intelligent beings:

• They have bat-like faces and move on all fours, using both hands and feet with grasping digits — as well as their prehensile tails.
• Extremely agile, they can crawl along walls and ceilings, allowing them to build suspended settlements over chasms. They live on flexible “webs” woven from fungal fibers.
• The Lobo see the world “upside down” — not literally, but their default posture is hanging from ceilings or clinging sideways to vertical surfaces. In social interaction, they often try to invert objects or suspend their conversation partners.
• They have limited facial expression — their bat-like faces are difficult to read. Instead, they communicate emotions and intent through tactile gestures with their limbs and tail.
• The Lobo do not use metal. They rely on lightweight, flexible materials: their technology revolves around weaving and shaping organic fibers from fungi and plants. Their tools and garments are semi-living, adapting symbiotically to the user.
  • For example, a cloak woven from microscopic cave-fungus scales completely absorbs light and sound in close proximity — rendering the wearer invisible in darkness, but only while motionless.
• Lobo preserve memories collectively — certain important memories are stored in “singing caves,” where echoes of their high-pitched vocalizations are imprinted and accessible to all clan members. An individual Lobo might recall the death of an ancestor from 500 years ago as if they had seen it firsthand, though their personal memory is fragile and prone to discarding anything deemed unimportant.

To other intelligent races, the Lobo are seen as oddities and are often avoided. They rarely leave their territory. On occasion, they serve as mercenaries or specialists in high-altitude environments. Rarely, one may encounter a Lobo trading enclave willing to exchange their unique technologies for valuable items such as energy cores or Wonders of Jaruga.

Pouch

A small archipelago of sailors and merchants who worship the goddess Pouch — named after the coin pouch, symbol of fortune, risk, wealth, and restraint. To her followers, the pouch is not just a container for gold, but a metaphor for holding back and letting go — saving and then spending in great bursts of joy.

The people of Pouch believe that the deliberate squandering of surplus is the highest pleasure — not just for intelligent beings, but for nature itself. They live with discipline, running profitable ventures communally and carefully accumulating capital. All surplus (after reinvestment) is ritually wasted during indulgences declared by their religious leaders: massive feasts, orgies, and festivals where the people pass through madness into catharsis.

They are open-hearted and constantly awaiting the next indulgence, but live in sacred abstinence between them. Lack of self-control outside the sanctioned rites is considered the basest flaw. The population is predominantly human. The archipelago is ruled by the dark-skinned Aapassini family.

Jaruga / The Fertile Lands / The Wild Mountains

The Current — also called the Lord of Mud — is the god of birth, death, and transformation, worshipped primarily in the Wild Mountains. These mountains are home to the isolated and brutal tribal society known as the Qqni, who rule over the Fertile Lands — the only large expanses of arable soil on the continent.

Once a year, the river Jaruga overflows from its sacred mountain, the Source of the Current, where warriors undergo ritual transformations. The flood submerges the Fertile Lands, mutating all life it touches while rendering the soil extraordinarily fertile.

During sowing season, representatives from other nations arrive, offering tribute in exchange for the right to cultivate the land and take the harvest home. Some even erect the container-based Temporary City for the duration. The Qqni do not farm — they live off offerings brought to them. The mutated flora and fauna of the region are known as the Wonders of Jaruga. Treasure hunters seek them out to trade or transform them into valuable goods — but this is forbidden under Qqni law and punished by live immolation.

The original Flood of Jaruga was a one-time catastrophe in the distant past — a moment when the river pushed further past its seal, spilling into other lands and mutating everything it touched. It annihilated young life and replaced it with grotesque or miraculous anomalies.

The Sacred Lands

A central, open region of the continent — a vast savanna — where permanent settlement is forbidden. All nations share an unspoken agreement: this land belongs to the Uurundich, sacred animal beings.

The Uurundich are towering, giraffe-like quadrupeds whose translucent abdominal membranes grow sacs of raw energy — like living batteries. These are harvested in annual ritual hunts and used to power primitive technology.

Despite their utility, the Uurundich are revered, and the balance of harvest and respect is strictly maintained. No one claims dominion over the Sacred Lands — to do so would be seen as sacrilege.

The Lake of Cleansing

The Lake of Cleansing, said to cure all illness, lies in the land of the Flosari — the forest elves — beneath the Tree of Life. Outside of Flosari, no one may access it except the Condemned, who enter the lake to take their own lives.

It is said that the water trailing off the souls of the Condemned — released from their bodies and escaping the lake — creates the most beautiful sight on the continent. From a hill beyond the forest, one can see the shimmer of these departing spirits as they rise into the sky.

The Talking Mountain

A vast mountain range separating the western Wastes from the territory of Tribunal, home to a distinct kind of dwarves - short, slightly caricatured, in traditional large pointed hats. The mountain quite literally speaks — its winds whistle with strange patterns that resemble words. Only those trained to interpret its voice can truly understand it.

The dwarves who dwell within and upon the mountain revere it as their god — a physical, living presence. This belief contradicts the theological definition of divinity in Zaya, but the Talking Mountain defies classification. It is not a god in the traditional sense, but rather a piece of inanimate nature that, for unknown reasons, possesses will and awareness. It cares for its inhabitants, though it does not always agree with them.

The dwarves of the Talking Mountain are gatekeepers. They allow passage only at their discretion — outsiders must pay tolls or detour by sea. These dwarves are smaller and narrower than those of the Well, almost comically so: squat but slim, with knee-length beards and a fondness for tall pointed hats.

The Wastes Beyond the Talking Mountain

A volcanic and virtually lifeless land, uncharted due to its sheer hostility. Almost nothing grows there, and monsters are said to roam freely. A few mad natives survive on the fringes, but they are rare and secretive.

Legends speak of magnificent treasures buried deep within the Wastes, but no one has ever gone far enough to confirm them — let alone return alive.

Wedge and Lexarion

Brother gods with opposing values. Lexarion, known as the Judge, is the god of authority, hierarchy, slavery, and law — he believes that all beings should follow the same set of rules he has established. Wedge is the god of ambition, declaring that the means are irrelevant if the goal is achieved. His followers reject the notions of good and evil, replacing them with success and failure.

The divine brothers despise one another, and their churches are in constant conflict. Lexarion seeks order, even at the cost of slavery. Wedge seeks freedom, even if it sometimes leads to chaos and irresponsibility.

Wedge’s state lies in the north, while the Tribunal, ruled by Lexarion’s doctrine, lies in the south.

The Zummadins

An influential noble family from the state of Wedge, the Zummadins are known for their immense power and wealth, built through expeditions in search of knowledge and Arcanum, which they hoard obsessively. Their crest bears a black swan.

The Huxyds

The second great noble house of Wedge, and rivals to the Zummadins. The Huxyds operate the largest spy network on the continent. They serve as advisors at courts and to powerful individuals, their reach often invisible but always present.

Their crest features Golden Serpents, and like their emblem, they use slyness and subtlety to advance their limitless ambition. They are not without conscience, but will hesitate at nothing. They prefer to remain in the shadows, manipulating others rather than acting openly.

Magical Catastrophes and the Anti-Magic Crusade

The genderless god of magic, Saylateh (also known as the Gesture), has vanished — or at least, has not made contact in ages. In response, the gods Lexarion and Wyr (the Lord of Pain) have renewed their alliance to combat the growing threat of wild magic — or so their priests claim.

Nations have enacted laws mandating the registration of magic users through colleges equipped to mitigate magical fallout. Unregistered magic is now illegal and punishable by death — a quick death, in accordance with Wyr’s mercy.

Followers of the Judge and the Lord of Harm enforce this order with armed zeal, believing it brings justice and peace. Thus was born the Order of the Demagus — paladins sworn to a crusade against unlicensed spellcasters.

Public sentiment continues to turn against magic. Mage populations have plummeted. Lynchings occur. Arcanum is increasingly viewed as injustice — a power wielded by the few at the cost of the many. Churches of the divine triad endorse this view. Though magical catastrophes are rare, their devastation overwhelms the positive contributions of magic. Fear spreads. The innocent suffer.

Church of the Judge

The followers of Lexarion believe every person has a rightful place within the hierarchy — a station that brings both privileges and limits — yet they also believe that one can climb that ladder. They maintain slavery much like in Ancient Rome: it is seen as the worst possible fate, so before becoming a slave one may choose suicide instead; if they don’t, it means they would rather serve than die. A slave may also one day earn freedom through various means, if capable.

The Church of the Judge is above all righteous and just, though harsh and merciless in punishment. They are not afraid to tear sinners apart in public, as an example. The way Lexarion dictates His laws to His priests — who then pass them to the world — is shrouded in mystery, and often questioned even within the clergy.

The Human Hill — a legendary punishment of the Tribunal for the gravest of crimes. The condemned are chained by their wrists and ankles to a steep mound made of hundreds of living prisoners and thousands of their decaying predecessors. They are left there to starve, to be eaten by birds and insects, one upon another, a screaming, weeping, defecating swarm of the damned — until they go mad or die.

The Tribunal has the reputation of an expansionist state, for it absorbed three neighboring nations long ago — though in truth, two of them joined willingly, tempted by the prospect of a better life under Lexarion’s functioning, consistent, and “fair” law. Only one was taken by force, and even that more through political pressure than open war — though blood was spilled. The so-called War of Unification was thus more a unification than a war — but, as always, innocents suffered.

The Tribunal continues to grow, like any empire, but it prefers to rely not on raw force — rather on demonstrating the consequences of its laws: brutally strict, yet effective and giving common people a chance for dignity. The legal code of Lexarion lifted entire provinces from misery and chaos, creating from them an Empire of Order. Before invading, the Tribunal shows other realms what they might gain by stepping willingly under the Judge’s law.

Lexarion’s Tribunal balances on the edge between merciless empire and pillar of civilization. To outsiders it looks like a power ready to expand by the sword; within, it runs on hard, predictable principles that anyone may use — though the path upward is long and pitiless to the weak. The hierarchy is absolute, but not closed: even a slave, if they survive, may rise to freedom, and later to influence — provided they prove their worth before the law. Punishment and reward are equal tools of the same mechanism. Slavery, though cruel, is presented as an alternative to death — and freedom as a prize to be earned.

The Church collects heavy taxes from the wealthy, using them to build infrastructure for the poor, dragging entire districts out of starvation — at the price of obedience and respect for hierarchy.

As part of the Magical Crusade, the Church seeks to tame or eradicate all magic deemed harmful. The disasters of past decades — and cold statistics — prove that magic destroys more often than it saves. Every spell, every ritual is registered, supervised, or extinguished at its source. To the Tribunal this is not repression but necessity: people deserve a predictable world, not one haunted by sudden, catastrophic miracles.

In this philosophy, strength — of sword, law, or will — is virtue itself, the only guarantee of survival in a world where weakness means being devoured by plague, sorcery, or the ruthless. Lexarion’s law justifies this creed: only those able to seize and sustain power within the boundaries of justice deserve to rule. Strength equals quality of life.

King: Varzyd Tajjudin, son of Malkar
Queen: Bjuma Tajjudin
Capital: Verdict

Common Laws in Circulation

• Everyone has a place within the Law and deserves justice.
• The higher are responsible for those beneath them.
• Slavery is not disgrace; it is a rung in the hierarchy.
• Punishment is a lesson.
• The surplus of the rich must build structures for the poor.
• No innocent shall go hungry or sick.
• No voice is too weak to be heard — even a slave may testify, though their word weighs less than a master’s.
• There is no rule without care, no service without obedience.
• Poverty is the master’s fault.
• A servant is not liable for the master’s command.
• A servant may refuse an order that violates the Law.
• A servant may place life and family above a command — but nothing beyond that.
• One may climb the hierarchy through strength.
• There is no ceiling to how high one may climb.
• Order is guarded by sword and flame.
• A slave has the right to suicide.
• The needy may plead for mercy.

The Fatemothers

The Fatemothers originate from a female order of seductive courtesans and militant nuns who, through pregnancy, collect human bloodlines and genetic ties to shape politics, gain influence, and amass power. They are an efficient and dangerous organization — best left unprovoked. Cooperation with them is always a gamble, especially when they’re the ones who set the terms.

Their enemies call them whores, for their deliberate, instrumental use of sex. Their methods of seduction are unmatched and manipulative; they train their bodies as perfect weapons — equally lethal in combat and in bed. They are known for their composure and their ability to read people with unnerving precision.

The Fatemothers operate mainly within the Tribunal, formally under Queen Bjuma Tajjudin, wife of the King — though in truth they act independently under the leadership of Sister Halarana. Still, they know the limits of their freedom: if their interests ever turned against the royal family or the Tribunal itself, they would quickly lose their holdings — and the hunts for their heads would begin. They live on that edge, gathering influence and bloodlines, playing a dangerous political game where seduction, power, and lineage intertwine.

The Demagus

A paladinate representing a sovereign offshoot of Lexarion’s church. Formed to enforce magical regulation in lands under the Judge’s rule — and eventually across the world — they are prepared to use force to achieve it. Their ranks consist of sworn holy knights.

They are widely supported by the public, who fear the catastrophic consequences of unregulated magic. Their symbol is a flame bound within a circle of law.

The War of Unification

A major conflict from 150 years ago, during which Tribunal, once a small nation, conquered and absorbed three neighboring minor states. This marked the birth of the Greater Tribunal, now often referred to simply as the Empire.

The Ban on Intervention

A line above, an X, and a line below — this is the symbol representing the prohibition of divine interference in mortal affairs. It signifies a rupture between god and worshipper, the severance of heaven from earth.

The Grand Tournament

An annual team-based combat tournament held in Wedge, fought to the death — or to surrender, though surrender is not permitted in the final match. It draws throngs of challengers and seas of spectators from across the continent.

The winning team is granted a single wish by Queen Satrada Apotezi of Wedge — any request within her power to fulfill, so long as it does not violate the core values of the state.

Monsters

Mostly myths and legends. The real ones exist — rare, terrifying, and best left unspoken.

Seasons — each lasts two months

The planet rotates more slowly, which gives it two additional months compared to Earth’s cycle.

• Spring – renewal, budding, hope, the start of fieldwork, the time to prepare for the swelling of the earth, when planting comes easiest.
  • hunts for Uurundi
  • migration of farmers toward the Fertile Lands
• Rainfall – constant drizzle or downpour; mist clings to the ground, rivers overflow, and the earth turns to mud. The world softens, and plants draw in water to fuel their explosive growth when the summer sun returns.
  • the Jaruga river floods the Fertile Lands, mutating local flora and fauna
  • the winds summon leviathans — enormous flying creatures, half-transparent like drifting balloons with hanging maws and long squid-like tendrils that snatch birds mid-flight. Their eerie songs fill the sky; at season’s end, the same winds carry them away. None have ever been found dead.
• Summer – fullness of life, heat, ripening, harvest.
  • the Festival of Fire — a day when the sun draws so close it ignites great straw effigies raised on hills in honor of Endi-Endi, lord of night, day, and what is yet to come. The effigies represent each nation’s hopes.
• Autumn – final harvests, falling leaves, preparation for Stillness, first chills.
  • return of the farmers from the Fertile Lands, bringing caravans of grain and flour
• Stillness – the time between life and death; a quiet, amber-sepia horizon, no wind, no insects. Bare branches do not sway. Animals fall silent. Only a high ringing fills the ears.
  • sometimes dreams bleed into waking life, and the dead walk among the living
• Winter – slumber, snow, hunger, the long wait for rebirth.
  • the earth trembles, tectonic plates shift, and from the cracks crawl monsters and unknown things

Seasonal Transitions

• Spring → Rainfall: plants awaken, then receive a massive flood of water
• Rainfall → Summer: heavy humidity turns to heat and lush growth
• Summer → Autumn: the natural decline toward harvest
• Autumn → Stillness: cooling air, pressure settles, nature freezes in place
• Stillness → Winter: silence hardens into cold and snow
• Winter → Spring: thaw, renewal, and life again

Celestial Bodies

Zaya has one sun — Endir, called the Eye of Endi-Endi — and two moons: blue Ulma and amber Aurel. In common belief, Ulma embodies the eternal soul, and Aurel the fleeting fire of the mortal body. People call them the first body and the first spirit.

GM only

Dawn of Time

In the beginning, there was Chaos — the void — pure disruption. Without it, nothing changes.

Souls were Chaos’s first creation: a raw, mindless force seeking to fill every shape, and ultimately become part of the Pillar of Existence — the known and stable foundation of reality.

When Seeds of Chaos pierce the Pillar of Existence, the result can be good — they shatter the stagnant and allow the world to reshape itself. Without that, the old cannot be forgotten. But if too much of the Pillar — too much space — is broken, uncontrolled Chaos reigns, and space itself collapses.

In the earliest days, the continents were ruled by ancient, destructive beasts — creatures so powerful they were often worshipped as gods. Building civilization in their presence was nearly impossible. Societies grew and fell in cycles.

Eventually, mages began to banish the beasts — one by one — into the realm known as the Labyrinth. But the Sealing Ritual was a work of immense magic, and magic is Chaos. The sheer force of that act fractured parts of the Pillar of Existence, triggering a vast cataclysm.

Some intelligent races survived, but their civilizations had to start again — rebuilding from the ashes.

Magic

In the world of Zaya, everything — from living beings to stones and particles of air — possesses a soul. A soul is a mindless force that, from birth, journeys through all forms, ultimately joining the Pillar of Existence and expanding the world’s space (see Cosmology). Thus, a soul is also the force that shapes reality itself.

Magic is the act of ripping a soul from its form and bending it to one’s will. Only a rare few can do this. On a large scale, this manipulation leads to the corruption of matter.

Virtually no one — not even the mages themselves — fully understands how magic truly works. This remains one of the world’s greatest secrets.

The Aurora Wall

A region within the Wastes beyond the Talking Mountain is sealed off from the world by the Aurora Wall — a shimmering curtain of iridescent light that cannot be passed by any known means.

Its origin is unknown to most, but in truth, the wall was created by a coalition of races to contain the madness of a rogue Volari druid named Quelivandi. He believed that magic was a natural force and used it to create crystals that mutated nearby ecosystems into irrational forms: bodies made of cloud, giant worms with intelligent heads, iron birds pecking apart mountains, trees made of flesh, and more.

Quelivandi was imprisoned underground — beneath the Aurora Wall — and kept in magical stasis. His body is maintained by an arcane apparatus powered by his own mutagenic crystals. Every few hours, the machine forces his hands to re-cast the spell that maintains the barrier.

The wall exists to contain the spread of Magiatry — a fusion of magic and nature — within the zone it has already transformed.

Monuments

In certain regions of Zaya — such as an island in the Northern Sea — stand massive white cubes inscribed with incomprehensible runes. No one knows what they truly are.

These structures are fragments of space that were torn into the world of the Labyrinth — taken by the magical Mist, its foundational substance, which spilled out and condensed into solid walls. These monuments have permanently severed that part of the world from reality, cutting it off from the normal laws of existence.

Arcanum

Commonly understood as magical items, Arcanum are in fact objects haunted by souls that have lost their way in the cycle of transformation. These wandering souls become bound to physical forms, granting them strange and potent properties.

Such items are rare and highly valuable.

Gods

Gods were once mortals whose souls developed extraordinary properties. This is the only stage in the journey of souls that is not shared by others — no soul becomes a god more than once.

A god is not real in the material sense and cannot directly intervene in the world. It exists only as a spiritual form — an avatar — a pure force without physical substance. Such a soul is sustained by the emotions and impulses of living beings related to its domain. The content of the soul — its form — is defined by the faith of its followers.

A god is nourished by the actions of other souls’ forms, making it a leading soul. Divinity represents a distortion and a vast extension of the soul’s journey — but when it ends, it becomes the strongest foundation of the Core of Existence, expanding space more than any other state.

• The Scalp – has no god; its rulers seek to resurrect Mavitae as a god of undeath and non-life.
• Zarax – The Closed Eye, the Shadow – god of darkness, loss, fear, concealment, and secrecy.
• Moloch – The Throne – god of war, dominion, strength, and enslavement — unborn son of Lexarion.

Flosari

The Flosari are born from the Tree of Life as its flowers. If a fruit fails to ripen, it ferments and gains the ability to imprint beliefs — the first suggestion heard after consuming it becomes truth for the eater, even something like “you will not die when you die” (which mechanically functions like a Destiny Point). However, consuming these fruits is considered cannibalism among the Flosari, and the knowledge of such unborn kin is kept in deep secrecy.

They do not resemble humanoid races — they are diverse plantlike and floral beings who live primarily stationary lives, though they are capable of movement.

A water djinn named Mirisan, who dwells beneath the surface of the Lake of Cleansing in a nested, pocket-realm, holds the Flosari in check — the Tree of Life grows from her realm into the world of Zaya. She ordered the cultivation of a special branch of Flosari capable of mimicking humans to serve her as spies and messengers. Prior to this, the Flosari had no contact with the outside world and killed any who approached the Tree of Life.

These altered Flosari are called Mizoni. They resemble elves, can grow skin-like surfaces over themselves, and are the only form of Flosari known to the world. No one suspects there are other, truer Flosari behind them.

Flosari society is matriarchal, ruled by the Mothers of Flowers, constantly torn between fighting for the well-being of their kind and obeying the will of Mirisan.

They live in isolation within their great forest and strictly control access to the Lake of Cleansing, allowing entry only to the Condemned, who go there to die. Very rarely, they make exceptions for deserving outsiders — offering them a fermented, unripe fruit of the Tree of Life along with a whispered suggestion that they will survive their next death. The person is then permitted to enter the lake for healing, but never to submerge their head — the power of suggestion protects them from the djinn’s unnoticed strike.

The Flosari permit only a single portion of their territory for external use — a large, strategically located port at the center of the continent, which functions as their main point of contact with the outside world.

The Flosari remain secluded and fiercely guard several secrets:

• That they are the fruit of the Tree of Life, and not humanoid at all.
• That their existence is tied to the location of their tree, and their politics are entirely rooted in defending the territory they can never leave.
• That Mizoni only pretend to be elves — though the entire Flosari people are casually referred to elsewhere as “Forest Elves.”
• That the unborn children of the Tree — their siblings — ferment into a potent and rare resource.
• And above all, that beneath the surface of the Lake of Cleansing, a water djinn sleeps.

Djinn

Djinn are rebellious souls that somehow gained self-awareness during their journey through forms. They learned that space is built from souls, and have begun to construct their own nested worlds — miniature realms made from fragments of soul-essence. Within these personal worlds, djinn possess unlimited power: they are gods there, and can even take on physical form. But these self-made realms draw space away from true existence.

Outside their own domains, djinn are powerless and must act through intermediaries. Most mortals are unaware they even exist.

To construct their worlds, djinn must extract fragments of untainted soul. They cannot use corrupted essence — such material would produce unstable, chaotic domains they could not control. When severing a soul from its body, a djinn cuts away both the corrupted part and a clean fragment. This raises a moral question: does purging corruption from a soul accelerate its journey toward the Pillar of Existence more than the damage done by removing a pure piece of it?

Soul corruption can result from many causes — failure to shed memories of previous forms, outside interference, magical influence, or, as is believed in the case of the Condemned, a fundamental mismatch between soul and body.

Known djinn include:

• Merisan, who dwells beneath the surface of the Lake of Cleansing.
• Zharuun, who resides beneath the lava in a volcano on the desert continent.

Djinn see obvious advantage in guiding the Condemned — those already seeking death — to die by their hand, offering fragments of their souls willingly or unknowingly. So far, the March of the Condemned leads only to the Lake of Cleansing, but Zharuun has already sent his fire-wielding sorcerers to spread belief in a new path — one that ends in flame.

Dwarves

Their current form is not their original one. In the beginning, they were far more crude, resembling walking mineral formations. They looked like irregular masses of stone overgrown with moss-like cellular tissue, with living matter pulsing in their fissures. Their bodies had no clear symmetry or faces — only surfaces full of pores sensing the vibrations of the world. They moved like slow landslides of rock, constantly shifting their mass, like organisms still learning that they could have shape.

In the age of eternal darkness — before the surface and the discovery of light — the primordial dwarves awakened their first faith. It was a belief in Zarax, the Lord of Darkness. He gave them a sense of meaning — individuality, by distinguishing their personal vibrations as prayers — something they needed to find themselves among other stones they so closely resembled. In return, however, he demanded blood sacrifices (including from one another) and a transformation of form — the creation of a shared identity through a common shape, no longer just a natural mineral formation.

The dwarves slowly reshaped themselves according to his guidance into insect-like beings — with antennae, pseudo-chitin made of mineral, and wings like dragonflies — and they called themselves Krasnowady.

When they discovered the surface and realized that their customs (abducting other races for blasphemous sacrifices to their god) and their insect-like appearance provoked disgust among outsiders, a revolution broke out, and the dwarves split into three factions.

One remained faithful to Zarax in the darkness, and no one knows what became of them.

The second sought change, but no longer knew who they were after rejecting their identity from the dark. They severed themselves from the past, turning their history into taboo, sealed the path back to the Underdepths (the endless network of underground tunnels of the world of darkness), and reshaped themselves into a new form (the now-familiar dwarven shape) through a slow, evolution-like process spanning thousands of years of Kyrwaga development. They settled closer to the surface, at the site of its discovery (the Wells), and began to follow the Cycle of Souls.

The third faction, the most willing to change — and to do so immediately — transformed their forms through accelerated means using chemistry and magic. They paid the price of permanent stunting (they are small and unimposing) and left far from the place where the surface was discovered. There, they found the Speaking Mountain, which spoke through the winds. They learned its language and settled upon it, finding in it support and a new sense of purpose they desperately needed. They resemble a caricature of the dwarves of the Wells, but in truth they are a serious, collective people, concealing how skillfully they wield magical rituals and the corruption they invoke — balancing constantly on the edge between power and something closer to the demonic.

Jaruga / The Fertile Lands / The Wild Mountains

Jaruga is a river-god with the nature of an element — sometimes calm, sometimes furious — longing to flood and mutate indiscriminately. Yet its source is sealed underground, a fact known only to the Oogrim family, rulers of the Qqni for generations. They are famed for understanding the river’s whispers. The Oogrims conceal the truth: they keep their god imprisoned, fearing its unpredictable nature — capable of bringing both random death and rebirth.

To the rest of the Qqni and the outside world, Jaruga is seen as a predictable god who floods once a year and demands offerings in the form of altered life. But the truth is more dangerous.

The Circle of Starless Nights

An outlawed circle of druids and witches in the Wild Mountains, who view nature through a particular lens:

• Violence and destruction are natural processes: Decay, ruin, and death are not aberrations but core elements of nature. Everything — life, matter, energy, magic — is in constant churn. What is made will be used up, broken down, or rot. Nature is brutal and wasteful by design, and destruction is an inherent part of its rhythm.
• Excess and wastefulness: Surplus is central to nature. It’s not just about survival and reproduction — nature also creates unnecessary, inefficient overflows of energy. Fertility often produces more than can survive; natural processes generate surplus energy that dissipates without purpose.
• The endless cycle of birth and death: Life is a grinding process of transformation — things are born, grow, devour each other, and die, becoming part of the soil for the next cycle. This wheel never stops, and it has no final purpose or meaning. It is absurd and tragic by its very essence.
• No morality in nature: There is no morality, harmony, or care in natural processes. They are impersonal, indifferent to suffering or joy. In the “grinding wheel” of existence, there is no room for compassion or meaning — nature simply acts, destroys, and creates without pause.
• Death as both product and condition of life: Death is not an end, but a prerequisite for life. What dies becomes nourishment and substance for what is born. This cycle is the foundational rule of the grinding wheel. Nature, driven endlessly by this loop, never clings to any one form — all living things are eventually destroyed to make way for others.

Zundari

The Zundari hate the bridge not only because it encroaches on their territory, but especially because it casts a vast shadow over their jungle, limiting plant growth, disrupting the ecosystem, and — most importantly — clouding their visions of the future. They believe sunlight to be the eternal eye of Endi-Endi, who sees the past, present, and future all at once. The band of stars across the night sky is, to them, a fragment of his spine curled in slumber.

The Zundari are led by priests — the most skilled seers among them. Currently, nothing is more important to the red elves than destroying the bridge and reclaiming the full power of sunlight and their god’s clear gaze. Yet despite their ferocity, they have been unsuccessful. No outsiders truly understand their motives, as the Zundari remain alien, feral, and beyond communication.

Volari

There is some truth to the widespread belief that the Volari destroyed the land beneath their feet through reckless scientific experimentation and magical catastrophe. They no longer walk that ground — because they can’t.

These lands were once inhabited by giants. Thousands of years ago, the Volari fled to the skies to escape them. Later, with no hesitation, they continued experimenting with arcana and machinery, and in doing so, exterminated the giants — or so they believe. In reality, the giants survived by burrowing underground, becoming enormous, mole-like creatures. They now tunnel through deep rock in vast underground systems, too afraid to resurface due to the twisted abominations and magical horrors spawned by centuries of unchecked arcano-technological chaos.

Amara Dżannilidi — an ancient sorceress and one of the three who cast the Yrade Sealing Ritual in the Labyrinth — would roll in her grave knowing her people have forgotten the truth about the Yrade and now revere them as role models.

The Dry Lands

No one remembers it now, but in ancient times this was the site of Kamazud, capital of the Yrade race — before it collapsed into the earth on the Day of Shame, following the sealing of its inhabitants and hundreds of thousands of innocents within the world of the Labyrinth. The cataclysm left the region scorched and fractured, and it remains desolate to this day.

Beneath the surface lie the ruins of the city and its secrets. Followers of the cult of eternal undeath from Skalp conduct slow and clandestine excavations here. Their goal is to recover the remains of the divine avatar of Mavitae, the fallen god of life and death — buried during the Day of Shame — in order to transport, reassemble, and resurrect him as the god of the undead.

The Zummadins

They embody the core value of Wedge: the end justifies the means. Fiercely loyal to their own bloodline, the Zummadins practice a secret breeding policy — they sire many children and scatter them across the world as infants, accepting into the family only those who survive, return, and prove their worth. They are ruthless, though not needlessly violent. Measured, cunning, and unyielding.

Rose Zummadin — an ancient sorceress, was one of the three mages who cast the Yrade Sealing Ritual within the Labyrinth.

The Huxyds

Capable of great good when it suits them, they often win the hearts of the common folk — unaware of what the Huxyds do behind the scenes. Their greatest secret: they bribe Dream Guides to look the other way while they torture the souls of influential dead in the Dreamland, extracting information to be used in the waking world.

The Scalp

Necromancy attracts the deranged. A network of mages within Scalp seeks to gather the remains of Mavitae, the long-dead god of life and death, and resurrect him as a god of eternal undeath. They dream of regaining consciousness after death — not merely becoming zombies, but living as undead. They believe they can accomplish this by creating a new god for themselves.

This budding religion is spreading across the continent. Its symbol is a fanged skull with worms crawling from its eye sockets. Its apostles search for powerful energy sources to raise the divine avatar’s body. Unbeknownst to them, true undeath may be achieved by a different means — placing a lump of Earthblood into the mouths of the reanimated dead…

The Vivarins

A noble family from Scalp, the Vivarins advise Baron Woodenbone. The family head, Cyril, is a staunch advocate of economic necromancy and a secret nationalist conspirator. It was he who secured permission from Tribunal’s authorities to legalize controlled necromantic practices.

His half-mad son, Cassius, pretends to support his father but has fully immersed himself in the new faith of undeath. He devotes himself to Zur Zaren — the lich and oldest living man in history, who, three thousand years ago, was one of the three mages who cast the Yrade Sealing Ritual in the Labyrinth.

The Deadbearers

There exists a group known as the Deadbearers — traders who deal with the Qqun in exchange for special Wonders of Jaruga: the eggs of giant swamp turtles. Once the embryo is removed, the egg becomes an organic incubator, its inner fluid capable of slowing decay and muffling the departing soul’s echo. The Deadbearers use these relics mainly to transport corpses for reanimation in the Scalp or to move the gravely ill between distant settlements — though there have been rare, whispered cases of them saving unborn children from the wombs of dead mothers.

Identity and Role

• Who they are: caravaners and necro-technicians who travel between cities and villages, offering a unique service — the transport of the dead, dying, or incurably ill using Jaruga’s Wonders (swamp turtle eggs).
• Symbol: a black cloak lined with runes of preservation; on the chest, a dried shard of turtle eggshell.
• How they work: they always travel in pairs or small groups. One handles negotiation and logistics, the other performs the rites and protects the cargo from interference.
• Appearance: gaunt figures wrapped in dark cloaks, smelling faintly of marsh and incense, their faces often veiled; on their belts hang talismans made from bone, wax, and bits of shell.

Jaruga’s Woner:

• Swamp Turtle Egg: once the embryo is removed, the inner chamber fills with a viscous fluid that slows tissue decay and suppresses the “voice of the soul” leaving the body.
• Common applications:
  • Transport of the sick – the patient is submerged inside the egg, traveling in a half-sleep for days or weeks.
  • Preservation of the dead – allowing safe transport to a burial site or temple.
  • Salvage of pregnancy – rare and controversial; enables the fetus to keep developing after the mother’s death.
• Side effect: some eggs retain fragments of the soul. Rumors claim the Deadbearers sometimes harvest and sell these remnants as a narcotic for the initiated — a substance said to let one taste the memories of the dead.

Dream

Motto: Dreaming is a stage of the day.

A state bordering the Crystal Mountains, beyond which lies the Dreamland — the world of reverie and the dead — the domain of Dream, the Shepherd, god of dreams and the afterlife, who herds the souls of the dead across his fields of abstract pastel grass until they are cleansed of the memory of the bodies they once inhabited and drift onward in their journey through forms (see cosmology). Dreamland is, in theory, material, but no one who entered it while alive has ever returned. The state of Dream is inhabited equally by Onirari (white elves) and humans. They live slowly, with some openly preferring sleep to waking life. In the mines of the Dream Mountains, they extract Dream Stones (the second most valuable resource on the continent), a mineral soaked in the power of Dreamland, which, when ground into powder and inhaled, allows consciousness to pass instantly into sleep and even meet the dead. But traveling through the irrational Dreamland is not simple, so some high-ranking priests of Dream become Dream Guides, whose role is most often to lead those who inhale Dream Stone smoke to meetings with their dead relatives, as long as it is still possible — that is, until the soul has fully lost memory of its body. Such guides can also carry messages between sleepers regardless of distance, making them a terrifying intelligence force.

Dream Guides should not, however, be confused with those who become mediums. A medium is someone who partially sacrifices themselves in order to become the voice of the dead in the world of the living — providing the reverse journey from that enabled by Dream Stones. One becomes a medium after years of training and acceptance through the Shepherd’s kiss in the fields of the dead. They are usually people trying to atone for past mistakes through self-sacrifice. In this country, plagued by daytime dreaming, power lies with the royal family — the Dreamborn. The country remains part of the Northern Alliance, alongside the Wells and the Wedge.

Every spring, the Day of the Dead is celebrated across the continent, during which families inhale Dream Crystal together in order, under the guidance of Dream Guides, to reach their ancestors.

Capital: Mara Ruler, called the Dux: Abbawa the Dreamborn of House Dreamborn.

Onirari — originating from Dreamland — are descendants of the spirits of the dead who impregnated living women visiting Dreamland. Potentially, they are an extension of death rather than life. If a dreaming man impregnates the spirit of a recently dead woman — which almost never succeeds — a nightmare may be born in Dreamland. They are descended from humans, but in Dreamland anything is possible, and irrational offspring took on a new form — white elves (elf is a type of silhouette, not a race, and is shared by several unrelated peoples), either smooth-skinned or marked with black stripes like zebras — perhaps shaped by the will of the Shepherd himself, as his reach extending beyond the afterlife. Later, once there were enough of them, they began reproducing normally among themselves, though “immaculate conceptions” still sometimes occur.

Onirari belong to two worlds at once — they live in reality by day and in Dreamland by night. They are more capable than other races of awakening consciousness within dreams, though this is neither certain nor everyday, and there they live another life, often more compelling than their real one. It may happen that an Onirari is nobody in reality, but a significant figure in dreams. That is why they value Dream Crystals so highly: they give certainty of lucid dreaming.

Onirari do not regard death in reality as their true end — the soul forgetting the body is the real limit of their story. After death, they remember the spaces of the world of the dead they crossed during lucid dreams, and in the final years of their existence they simply change where they exist, as if moving house — and growing younger, since in an irrational world they may be themselves from any moment of their lives. For them, this is just another stage, one for which they are prepared. They have survival instinct, but they do not fear death as the cutting off of existence. That is why their military units can be fearless, even suicidal if necessary. They carry out their dead onto the fields to decompose there and fertilize the poor soil, because they know the dead are no longer truly in reality, and they have no interest in visiting empty corpses. This even has an economic dimension — the dead become needed fertilizer. Funerals, where no one grieves or says goodbye, take on an agricultural meaning in which the Onirari genuinely acknowledge their place in reality.

The Onirari have “their” place in Dreamland. Only one, because one is enough for the number who actually achieve lucid dreaming on a given night, and for the dead who still remember their bodies strongly enough. It is a vast vertical lake — Oulanja — floating above pastel glades where souls graze. It is only the depth of water, with no infrastructure, because such things are unnecessary in an irrational world, and within it the swimming spirits of the Onirari lead a social life after death unavailable to any other race, who have neither the time nor the means to learn how to navigate and “live” in the endless afterworld, where they merely graze in the pastel fields under the Shepherd’s care. The Onirari guide their kin who do not yet know the way to Oulanja, and once they learn it, they can always reach it again. From there, they travel wherever they wish, yet always have somewhere to return to. It is their second home, where all swim, their second life.

That home also contains their great secret — the Treasury of Memory — records of the memories of all the dead, an unbroken stream of history and knowledge. Most can use it only selectively, which, despite its immense demands on time, still grants extraordinary possibilities. But a very small number, exploiting the irrationality of dreams, learn to literally absorb vast portions of it into themselves, gaining multigenerational knowledge as though it were their own. They fear this, however, because it disrupts the Cycle of Souls: such a spirit cannot forget not only its own body, but also the many others who once carried the knowledge it absorbed. Usually this succeeds only for priests after decades of spiritual preparation. It is for them both a great achievement, a source of power, a kind of incomprehensible longevity as a spirit, and a sacrifice, because they condemn their own soul to fall out of the Cycle through their inability to cleanse themselves of memory, and thus, after centuries, to madness, corruption, and transformation into a nightmare.

Oulanja is ruled by such souls, called Echoes — beings saturated with the knowledge of millennia, who have forgotten what time is. These are the unwritten rulers of the Onirari on the other side, steering their people in ways even the Onirari themselves do not understand, relying on turns of thought inaccessible to anyone but themselves. They are half-mad, half-corrupted wells of information and memory trying to manipulate a reality they can no longer access, because they have been dead for centuries.

For decades, the Echoes have continued spreading their message: that the Onirari should surrender their memories to the Treasury of Memory and kill themselves. In that way, they may pass unobstructed into the afterlife and live as long as they wish, because they will never forget their form as long as the Echoes continue feeding their spirits memories from the Treasury. There is no reason to wait if paradise lies on the other side, where everything is possible. What does it matter that this disrupts the Cycle of Souls and damages the structure of existence, if that structure concerns only reality? If all Onirari die, no one will suffer for it. Their race comes from the dead, so they should remain dead — forever. The Shepherd shaped them that way and wants them that way. What does it matter that this leads to madness and corruption? That is the true end of their race as planned by the Shepherd, not bodily decay like that of ordinary mortals. What does it matter that their offspring may be born as twisted spirits? That is exactly how they are meant to be born — they are descendants of irrationality and should live irrationally. Planning for the future is for those afraid of their fate. The Onirari are meant to surrender themselves to the current of dreaming from which they came — the chaos of reverie. The Shepherd is a neutral god; supposedly it makes no difference to him whether souls come into his world or not. Or so they say. His true intentions remain unknown.

Lately this has led to an avalanche of Memory Anointings — ceremonies in which an Onirari carries their own memory to the Treasury of Memory accompanied by a Dream Guide — and to many entering the March of the Damned, walking to drown themselves in the Lake of Purification in a globally accepted ritual of self-killing. Those who die this way join Oulanja and become part of the Irrational Path of their race, in which they believe. Most are too afraid to embrace suicide, but delay the choice until after death, though in Oulanja this earns them sideways glances. The main body of the living, however, does not accept this vision or the guidance of the Echoes. The dominant doctrine of the Church of Dream says that the Shepherd herds souls because he wants to help them return to the Cycle, and that his world is tightly bound to reality, which is why the two overlap and souls travel from one to the other. The Irrational Path is called heresy, even though it has loud advocates who claim they cannot commit suicide until they first send other Onirari into the afterlife — these are called Singers of Death.

The divide is so deep that the church cannot even punish heretics openly, much less resolve the issue through violence. They cannot refuse a Memory Anointing, because it is one of the sacred rites. The royal family remains neutral — calling themselves neutral like the Shepherd — in order to retain influence over both sides and not lose access to the Treasury of Memory. The conflict runs deep, and every solution seems catastrophic.

The problem, though not a problem to the Onirari themselves, is that events in Dreamland are not real. They do not see the difference, but neither do they understand that they devote enormous amounts of time to something with no effect on reality, weakening their own state and the future of their children.

There is no genetic difference between smooth and striped Onirari. What divides them is that the first smooth ones were descended from souls who had nearly forgotten their bodies already. These are rarer beings, almost ethereal, mystical in nature, prone to escaping into dreams, uniting in oneiric ceremonies, deeply spiritual, like a kite snagged on a tree that cannot fly away, and yet astonishingly capable of understanding reality precisely because of their strange attitude toward it. They consider it less important, which lets them analyze it without emotion or intention. The striped Onirari, by contrast, are more common beings whose ancestors were born as children of freshly dead spirits. They understand that life lasts longer than sleep and value both equally. They divide their time between the two, but feel — though they do not wish to admit it — that survival requires action in reality. Dreamland, however, opens before them a world of infinite possibilities. Both kinds sleep together in shared nests of fur, side by side like squirrels, ensuring each other warmth, continuity, and stability of sleep.

The smooth are often the social margins, seeking every chance to retreat into dreams where they lead entirely different lives — a beggar who in the afterworld is an explorer of irrational spaces, or a translator between the dead. But they can also be found in analytical roles: mathematicians, theorists, commanders, strategists, architects — people with the clearest, most distant, most pragmatic view.

The striped, alongside humans, take part in managing everyday reality, while also venturing away from it on long journeys. They are dangerous spies who walk in dreams and warriors unafraid of death. But they are also master craftsmen and specialists who practice their trade in the afterworld, under conditions allowing them to recreate any environment and circumstance, condensing their real working time and efficiency while waiting to continue their second life. They function as if they are always in two places at once, though the second place does not really exist. In each of those places, however, they are alternately either intensely present or only fleetingly so — fully there, or not at all. When present, they seem full of energy. Otherwise, they seem to ripple in the wind.

These are living beings descended from the dead. They understand and feel the Cycle of Souls in their very nature. They can sense disturbances between waking and reverie. They bend the continent-wide belief that identity comes from the biological body and the soul is merely a mindless force that departs after death, because although that is true, they spend much of their existence without bodies, existing as spirits sustained only by memory of those bodies. So they are both rooted and detached at once. In a paradoxical way they may even be more rooted than other races, because rootedness in reality is not their default state, so they actually experience it instead of never leaving it. And they are detached because, in dreaming, they truly abandon the limits of biology and the rationality of body and world.

In practice, they often touch objects for no reason, stop to feel wind or rain, to catch a thought, have moments of strange wonder at trivial things, and just as often drift away, stare into the distance at nothing in particular as if hypnotized, lose the thread of conversation, or answer questions no one asked. They are less attached to possessions. Aging does not sadden them as much, because in the afterworld they are always young. They do not feel bodily shame as others do, are not afraid of nakedness, and treat the body as a mechanism of flesh, while at the same time caring for it deeply, understanding its significance to identity — they eat well, train, decorate themselves — as though what they control were also themselves. In daily life they are above all calm, though capable of reacting with lightning reflexes. This is not trained composure or numbness, but spiritual calm, the kind that makes others relax in their presence. The strongest consequence of descending from the dead, however, is that one becomes an eternal immigrant in one’s own life, with the difference that the true home does not exist.

Their civilization is fragile in a demanding, brutal world. Dividing their time between two places makes them weak precisely where they are vulnerable — the economy limps, they have no threatening army, they are backward. They have the best specialists, but not enough means to make use of them, so they hire out their services instead of taking root locally. Their warriors do not fear death, but they exist only in small strike groups. They possess extraordinary intelligence networks and information flow, but too little influence for that to change much. Part of their society would prefer for the world to leave them isolated in peace, not understanding reality at all. They jealously guard their most valuable resource, Dream Stones, which could have guaranteed them development, only to inhale them themselves and sit in the afterlife. Those who want to build the present receive no support from those who do not understand them. They are exposed to attack from neighbors and, in the long run, unable to defend themselves. Their sovereignty rests on a fragile web of contacts and highly useful services, as well as the fear inspired by the abilities of dreamwalkers. Beyond that, theirs is a small state, close to Dreamland, which inspires genuine dread, and this alone may deter armies even more — is attacking them really worth it? Serious crimes are almost nonexistent among them, because they are nearly impossible to hide: the murdered can tell a Dream Guide what happened to them.

The problem of lucid dreaming among the Onirari is so widespread that they have introduced a harsh bureaucracy of permits, which everyone fights bitterly over, with all the obvious injustices and abuses of nobles and authorities. The tax on using Dream Crystals is so high that Onirari grind their teeth over it.

Only now is there a growing group among them called the Zrachids, who see that the strength of the Onirari may lie in influencing reality from the level of dreams and using dreams instrumentally. In making productive use of time spent in the place everyone longs to return to. They are building a network of dreamwalkers capable of functioning in Dreamland, taking into account the disordered returns of lucid dreamers among their members, so as to gain global influence without leaving their beds and to develop the Onirari both in waking life and in dreams. For the first time, they bring infrastructure into reverie, expanding the kingdom there, which the Shepherd watches with surprise. Their motto is: sleep should work. They act behind the backs of the Echoes and against them, hoping to draw their dead brothers and sisters to their side.

The Irrational Path spreading through Oulanja is incomprehensible to ordinary people. It is a rejection of everything, a choosing of the chaos of dreams. Nightmare children, distorted forms, existence as a weather phenomenon, rejection of the future, haunting reality, intruding into other people’s dreams, abandoning individuality, yielding to the current of change in dreaming, essentially merging with the unpredictability and fragility of reverie, becoming part of the afterworld — the Great Dream. Other races hate both it and the Echoes, because this is an open disruption of the Cycle of Souls and the harmony of the world. They have clear expectations of the Dreamborn royal family that it will deal with this problem, even with fire if necessary, and their delay is increasingly displeasing to neighboring states. Recent movements suggest that in reality the heresy will be put down by the sword, but in Dreamland the Echoes will retain power, and the nightmare of the Onirari will take on a new meaning, because passage into reverie will become dangerous and, for the first time, the two worlds will pull apart from one another, sending spies and demagogues against each other.

The Desert

A land almost entirely unknown due to its inaccessibility. The only certainty is the presence of a volcano, from which fire witches emerge — secret followers of the djinn Zharuun. They work in secrecy to sway the Condemned, urging them to leap into lava rather than drown in the Lake of Cleansing. It is a slow and largely futile effort, as faith in the sanctity of the march to the lake is deeply embedded in society.

There are also said to be oases scattered throughout the desert, possibly inhabited, but no proof exists. Unknown to all, hidden within the sandstone cliffs lies the Hourglass of Time.