The Campaign Builder's Guild

Quote from: Polycarp!

QuoteUnrelated to anything in particular: a slightly larger margin might be good for the nav bar. In FF it edges really close to the text.

Any special name for the area beyond the known world? Something to evoke its danger/mystery?

I'll look at the wiki and see what I can do.

No, not really. But given how much else you've come up with, I believe you are up to the task ;)

All right, I fixed the margin issue for you. You had the margin set to "100" but you need to define the units; I set it to "10px."

Quote from: PhoenixAll right, I fixed the margin issue for you. You had the margin set to "100" but you need to define the units; I set it to "10px."

Wonderful!  It does look a lot better now.  Thanks for the help.

[/b][/size]

The Forest, as its denizens will tell you, is everywhere.  True enough, the deep waters have no plants growing upon them, but a great host of vegetation and remarkable flora exists on the beds of seas and lakes, just a continuation of the great Forest into underwater domains.  The Obsidian Plain stands alone in its denial of rampant growth.

But not quite '" for the cold can burn away the Forest just as completely as the fire of the Plain.  As on our world, there is such a thing as a treeline, above which the thin air and bitter chill are too much for even the mighty Forest to bear.  The trees become stunted and small until they disappear entirely, and further up not even these hardy specimens survive.  In some ways, the heights are even more dangerous than the Plain.  While the Plain is often bearable so long as one is not in the way of a lava flow, there are few places to hide from the cold and exhaustion upon the mountain heights that test the bravest and strongest creatures to their very limits.

Unlike the Plain, which offers great material rewards for those willing to venture deep within it, the highest reaches of the world possess few reasons for a traveler to ascend to them.  No lodestones await the brave or foolish here, and it is probably certain that only the depths of the seas are less well known than the tops of the Clockwork Jungle's mountains.  Yet these lands, while inhospitable, are not lifeless or empty.  Strange creatures call these places home, and live in awe of stranger creatures yet who have left their mark upon the mountaintops '" or sleep peacefully within the ice.

Regions

The 'White Desert,' as the heights of the world are sometimes collectively called, is not a great contiguous region like the 'Black Desert' of the Obsidian Plain.  It is found wherever mountains rise high enough to stop the Forest's growth.  While the border of the Obsidian Plain changes constantly, however, the size of these high deserts fluctuates only slightly with the season and the wind.  The White Desert is usually understood as composed of three domains separated by great distances:

The

Arcwhite, which includes the top of the Cogsteeth and Wyrmcrown and forms much of the barrier between the majority of the known world and the Outlands.*The Great Sickle, a land of glaciers and mountain lakes on the heights of the Fanged Rampart and the Halberd Spires that forms the outer rim of the Great Basin.*The High Antlers, by far the smallest of the three, that covers the highest reaches of Seven Antlers in the Outlands.[/list]
The Colonnade of the Stars, a great mountain range beyond the edge of the world, is also topped constantly in white, but no explorer has ever reached it (or at least, none have returned to tell of it).  A few have theorized that it continues clockwise and links with the Great Sickle someplace beyond the outer rim.

Ecology

The White Desert is divided into several distinct zones.  As one reaches the treeline, the plants become gnarled and stunted.  This borderland is known as an alpine thicket, and ranges in breadth depending on the terrain and slope.  The largest such borderland forms a distinct sub-region near the Inner Maw known as the Twistwood.  Both creatures from the Forest and the White Desert may stray into this borderland, making these areas prone to strange encounters between very alien creatures.
[note=Deserts]As the Clockwork Jungle has no 'deserts' as we usually understand them '" that is, places that are sandy, hot, and dry '" the term is used here in a manner similar to 'wasteland,' a barren place where the Forest does not exist.  Since the Forest is understood as the source of all life, places without it are very literally 'dead lands,' and the creatures within them are viewed as unnatural and even demonic.  The civilized races view such creatures in a somewhat similar manner to the way in which we view the undead '" abominations animated by some fell spirit or sorcery, for surely dead lands cannot beget real life.[/note]
Above the alpine thicket lie alpine meadows and scrublands.  These belts of treeless vegetation are called footlands because the vegetation seldom rises far above one's feet.  This is extremely rare in the Clockwork Jungle, as the Forest can grow to one's knees in a matter of days.  Where grasslands do exist in the Clockwork Jungle, they are massive; the Chromatic Plain, which makes up most of the Flowering Moors, consists of 15-20 foot tall grasses that bear more resemblance to giant bamboo than to a lawn.  Footlands are often blanketed in snow, sometimes for half the year or more.  Many of these meadowlands spring into bloom briefly once a year, coloring the hillsides brightly before fading away.

The highest reaches of the White Desert are ever-frozen and have no plants at all.  These places are known as whitecaps, barren lands, deadlands, or by other, similar names.

Ruins in the Desert

Unlike the Black Desert, the White Desert has ruins just as the Forest does.  Ancient buildings, statues, and complexes can be found in various states of integrity throughout the high mountains.  Legends persist of ruins kept pristine and safe from the world in hidden mountain valleys, and the Vars-Umbril speak very occasionally of a city of the Artificers that is mostly frozen within a great glacier in the Halberd Spires.  Skauk'uk Taku Yim wrote that he glimpsed this 'Frozen City' from a distance while he was a prisoner of the Vars, and that his captors claimed one could walk through some of the city's streets through great clefts in the glacier's surface.  'The Talus folk,' he wrote, 'respect the City but do not seem to fear it; I have asked if the ground is sacred to them, but they will tell me no more.'

Cogs can be found here as well, going about their inscrutable business as usual.  They seem unaffected by the cold or the thin air.  Some have seen Cogs trapped in glacial ice, or buried under avalanches.  Just as Forest animals do not venture into these regions, however, Cog analogues of these animals keep to their 'normal' environments and are seldom seen among the whitecaps.

The Desolation Bestiary

Many creatures of the Forest can be occasionally found in alpine thickets, and some may even stray '" by purpose or accident '" into higher regions.  Listed here are a few creatures who, in contrast, call these alpine lands their home.

Whiteback
A relative of the ubiquitous Speckled Cat, the Whiteback is a lithe, muscled predator capable of awesome leaps and bone-crushing bites.  It appears larger than its Forest cousin, in part because of its thicker coat which goes from a dirty bluish-grey on the feet to a nearly pure white on the back and tail.  Whitebacks hunt alone or in pairs, unlike pack-hunting Speckled Cats.  They prey primarily on Forest creatures in cloud forests and alpine thickets, but make their homes in rocky caves and crevasses in the footlands.  Whiteback fur commands a high price in the market, and a Whiteback cloak is considered in some places to be the quintessential garb of the explorer (though few actual explorers could afford to buy one).

Mered
'Strange folk are the Mered,' begins a well-known story of Koath the Silverseeker, and it does not lie '" at least, not in this particular matter.  The Mered are Gheen-sized mammals with thick, shaggy brown fur, an unexpectedly swift loping gait, long tufted ears, and huge eyes that take up most of their faces.  These eyes are pools of pale, softly glowing blue light, lacking pupils or any other distinguishing feature.  'Mered' is an Umbril name, but they are also called 'Watchers,' for this is what they do.  Travelers to the Arcwhite often see pairs of blue lights through the fog and falling snow, but the Mered seldom get closer, and easily outrun most creatures.  There is more mystery than fact regarding the Mered, and it is unclear what they eat or how they survive.  Koath and other travelers have reported strange encounters with them; an Iskite traveler over the Wyrmcrown reported exiting his tent to see three of them gathered around his dead campfire, all three of them staring silently at him with their unblinking eyes.  'No more than a few seconds later,' he wrote, 'the snowfall became a sudden snowstorm, and it seemed that the snow concealed them so that their bodies faded from my sight, leaving only six blue lights, which then too faded quickly away.'  The Mered are said to abduct lone travelers in such storms, and their companions insist that the abducted are never seen again once they vanish in the chill fog.

The aforementioned story of Koath the Silverseeker, one of many about his travels, details Koath's quest to recover a companion who was taken by the Mered.  It ends with Koath falling unconscious in a snowstorm, but awakening '" alone '" back in his camp, where he briefly sees the figure of his lost companion through the falling snow '" but his companion now has great glowing eyes of his own.  It is a tale to regale children with, and may or may not be a real story of the legendary explorer.

Ikysk
The Ikysk (IK-eesk) or skinthief is a large predatory bird, about the size of a grizzly bear, that makes its nest in the White Desert.  These nests are usually built on remote cliffs and inaccessible defiles, and resemble large egg-shaped baskets of logs, feathers, and animal skins large enough to hold two such creatures in close quarters.  These nests are only accessible through a hole in their underside, presumably to hold the heat in.  Ikysks prey on a variety of Forest life in the alpine thickets and the Forest's fringes below.  The Ikysk, however, does not kill with its talons or beak as a canopy wyrm does.  Rather, it has a muscular, 'scaly' tail reminiscent of a rat's tail that is prehensile and as long as its own body.  The Ikysk snatches prey up with its tail and brings them to a killing roost, a treetop that the Ikysk has carved into one or more stout spikes with its beak, and impales the creature.  After eating its fill, it returns to the nest, and presumably regurgitates some of this food for its young.

Ikysks are known to line their nests with skins, and they prefer the skins of furry mammals.  During its nesting season, it kills not for food but for skins, and its thin, curved claws are ideal for flaying corpses.  Iskites and Umbril do not interest it, but the more hirsute Gheen and Tahro sometimes fall victim to an Ikysk in nesting season (especially the Gheen, as they are most often found in the canopies where it hunts).  The cold of the bird's homeland protects these skins, uncured as they are, from rotting too quickly.  There are stories of travelers sleeping in Ikysk dens (because they were caught in a snowstorm and had no other choice), almost always ending in the death of either the bird or the interloper (usually the latter).  There is one story, however, in which Aza Frosttongue survived the encounter by covering herself in skins from the nest walls and lying very still '" a risky strategy, to be sure, especially against such keen-eyed beasts.

Hoary Ape
The Hoary Ape is, as its name suggests, an ape-like creature with silvery fur.  They appear oddly fat because of the layer of insulating blubber on them, but they are surprisingly agile for their apparent girth.  Hoary Apes will eat virtually anything in their habitat, and may be found feasting on flesh as often as grazing in alpine meadows.  They may have some rudimentary intelligence, for they are smart enough to use large rocks as missiles to kill prey or threatening creatures, and have been known to purposefully start rockslides or avalanches.  Except for such rocks, however, they show no evidence of tool use.  They are fascinated by fire but unable to reproduce it themselves.  Explorers have told tales of stopping a Hoary Ape attack by holding up a torch, which grabs the creature's attention wholly '" but they seemingly have no idea that the fire will burn them, and fly into a murderous rage when they attempt to grasp the fire and find it only causes them pain.  Szen-Sel the Whistler, an Iskite explorer of the Age of Prophets, is said to have trapped a Hoary Ape by using fire as a lure and brought it back in a cage to her master in Scalemount, but the pitiable creature did not long survive in captivity in the sweltering Forest.  These creatures live in small family groups in shallow caves and clefts, and are often hunted by the dreaded Ikysk.

Koth
The Koth, or colorbane, is the stuff of nightmares.  Common belief is that it is not a 'creature' at all, but a demon or some other spirit from another world.  Because they are so rare, some surmise that there is really only a handful of them, or a single widely-traveled being.  One, it is generally agreed, is more than enough for this world or any other.

The Koth is an eight-legged creature with black fur and yellow eyes about the size of a small horse.  It is difficult to describe the Koth in detail because of the way in which it affects its surroundings.  Where a Koth goes, everything seems dimmer '" light fades, colors become dull and bleed into each other, and details become vague and indistinct.  A Koth is always seen blurrily, for the effect is strongest when it is very near.  Its form seems somewhat lupine (though the natives of the Clockwork Jungle do not describe it this way, for their world has no dogs or wolves).  At first, those in the vicinity of a Koth may simply think there is water in their eyes or that they are a bit too tired.  Only when it is too late do most realize that something is horribly wrong.  Fighting a Koth is usually pointless, for it is not only difficult to see but also strong, quick, and vicious.  Those few who have survived have generally done so by simple luck (or they are making things up).  The Koth seems to enjoy the fear of its victim, allowing it to stumble around in terror as it gets more and more lost trying to flee with muddled eyes.

The Koth bears many legends.  Some say that objects brought near a Koth never regain their true colors again, always remaining dull and faded.  It is a common rumor that the Koth only eats the eyes of its victim and then abandons it to die, blind and helpless, in the frozen wastes.  Asaur Yi'auk believed that he could keep the beast from taking interest in him by wearing colorless clothes and keeping lamps and fires dim (and indeed, he never met one in his explorations '" though neither do most who travel the White Desert).  Szen-Sel the Whistler claimed to have killed a Koth once and said that its characteristic 'effect' fades when it dies, but she also claimed that the corpse was stolen from her by an Ikysk before she could show it to others.  Merchants can sometimes be found claiming to sell Koth skins as wards against evil spirits, but these are just ape or cat skins dyed black.  The well-informed know that a real Koth skin would be essentially priceless regardless of whether it warded off evil spirits or not.

Culture and Folklore

As snow only exists within these blighted lands at the top of the world, it is not well understood by the creatures of the Forest.  Most members of the civilized races live their entire lives without seeing snow, and most of those that do only see it from afar, atop peaks that rise in the foggy distance.  Snow is an object of fear, and many ascribe a malign intelligence to it; snow is sometimes described as a single 'entity' that snuffs out life and heat wherever it exists (compare this with the Saffron Moss, which is also composed of many patches unified by a single mind).  Many believe snow and frost to be innately poisonous.  If the winds change and snow is blown onto a valley settlement, it is seen as an omen of death and the place is often quickly abandoned.  Iskites, Umbril, Gheen, and Tahro alike may refuse to so much as look at snow: there are plenty of settlements with plain views of mountaintops whose residents habitually avert their eyes much as one avoids looking at the sun.

This view is widespread, but not universal.  The Vars-Umbril, a reclusive variety of the fungal race that lives in the mountain valleys of the Halberd Spires, prefer to avoid the 'frozen rivers' above but do not believe they will be cursed merely by touching or looking upon snow.  The Lost Flock, the remnants of the once great Gheen civilization of the Chalicewood, have been driven progressively higher and higher into the mountains by the expansion of the Mosswaste, and any fear they have of the alpine lands is overridden by the more pressing fear of the Peril and its servants.  Interestingly, khauta flyers are sometimes the least superstitious of all, as they are used to the frost that often forms on their ropes and baskets in mountainous regions (though some, having survived an accident in such a place, ascribe their misfortune to the snows and stay far from those routes in the future).

There is a persistent rumor among non-Umbril that telavai, the shriveled fungal elders who have achieved eternal life, sustain their existence by eating snow (and snow-eater is a reasonably common synonym for telavai in some areas).  This is almost certainly untrue, but references to snow-eating telavai can be found in several legends and fairy tales that involve Umbril villains.

In the regions surrounding the Arcwhite, legends speak of an evil deity called the Rime Dancer, who causes snow to fall by dancing upon the tops of clouds and creates frost by brushing its fog-like cloak over the landscape.  The specific name, looks, and gender of the entity differs from race to race and culture to culture, but the concept is recognizable from Scalemount to the Red Depths.  Cults of the Rime Dancer are especially pronounced among the peoples of the Clockwise Maw.

The most famous mortal connected with these regions was Koath the Silverseeker, a Tahr explorer who spent years making expeditions into the Wyrmcrown.  Koath believed that just as the Black Desert harbors the Black Treasure (lodestone), the White Desert hides the White Treasure (which Koath believed to be silver, a very rare metal that is many times more valuable than gold in the Clockwork Jungle).  Koath discovered many things, but never found his silver.  Most of the knowledge of the White Desert in general and the Arcwhite in particular comes from Koath and stories associated with him (some of which are more fanciful than others).  Koath, who eventually vanished on one of his expeditions, probably has more legends about the manner of his death than any other historical figure.

Career explorers of the White Desert are very few, but some are quite famous.  Koath the Silverseeker, Szen-Sel the Whistler, Aza Frosttongue, and Asaur Yi'auk are household names in the regions around the Arc.  Explorers of the Great Sickle are fewer and less well-known, in part because the Vars-Umbril of those lands do not readily share their stories with others.  Stories about these adventurers are of doubtful accuracy, freely mixing fact with fiction until neither is recognizable from the other.  Many were probably written to teach a lesson or simply to entertain.  Koath in particular is perceived as something of a madman, and stories about him usually praise his unorthodox methods of getting himself out of sticky situations at the same time that they use his strange habits and quixotic notions for comedic value.  As alpine exploration is not viewed as a particularly sane vocation, however, attributions of eccentricity are not limited to the Silverseeker.

I would absolutely love to learn how you come up with your ideas and writing. It is so incredibly in depth that it really brings the world to life.

Quote from: Prone To WanderingI would absolutely love to learn how you come up with your ideas and writing. It is so incredibly in depth that it really brings the world to life.

Well, ideas come from everywhere, I guess.  Some ideas go dormant for a very long time.  For instance, I knew very early on in this project that I wanted to have a few areas above the treeline, but never put more thought into it until now.  I have a whole folder full of half-finished ideas like that, things that I've written about for a few minutes before I change my mind or exhaust my ideas.  This is what my campaign folder looks like right now:



Some of those files will never see the light of day; some of them reflect events and themes I already know fully but haven't bothered to really set down in text.  Some have a long, long way to go before they'll ever be ready. (Kabarye, for example, is an "optional supplement" to the Clockwork Jungle that details a race of nomadic humans who ride ibexes the size of horses in a region outside the Forest, beyond the outer rim, intended as an alien land and people for Forest characters to discover or a beginning for human characters to explore the Forest from the unique perspective of an outsider.  I may never end up doing anything with it.)

The most important consideration for me is how the characters in a story interact with new additions.  I had no idea that the civilized peoples were going to be afraid of snow until I actually started a heading called "culture and folklore" and thought about how snow would be perceived.  I have to struggle with shedding my own ideas - snow is obviously frozen water and not dangerous.  But what if you'd never seen it before?  What if your assumptions about the world are totally different from mine?  When I think about these things, the connections follow - "hey, snow is a monochromatic blanket that covers everything and kills creatures, sort of like the Saffron Moss."

It feels a little bit pretentious to talk about "my process" as if I were an artist, partially because I don't really have one - there's no method for my idea generation.  The "depth," however, is something I do consciously try to go for by thinking in terms of characters (the characters, in this case, are the civilized races).  The nature of something is equally what it actually is and what the characters in the world think it is; sometimes I'm pretty vague on the difference between these two things, which is good, because the characters wouldn't draw any such distinction.

I hope that's... moderately enlightening?

Quote from: Polycarp!

Quote from: Prone To WanderingI would absolutely love to learn how you come up with your ideas and writing. It is so incredibly in depth that it really brings the world to life.

Well, ideas come from everywhere, I guess.  Some ideas go dormant for a very long time.  For instance, I knew very early on in this project that I wanted to have a few areas above the treeline, but never put more thought into it until now.  I have a whole folder full of half-finished ideas like that, things that I've written about for a few minutes before I change my mind or exhaust my ideas.  This is what my campaign folder looks like right now:



Some of those files will never see the light of day; some of them reflect events and themes I already know fully but haven't bothered to really set down in text.  Some have a long, long way to go before they'll ever be ready. (Kabarye, for example, is an "optional supplement" to the Clockwork Jungle that details a race of nomadic humans who ride ibexes the size of horses in a region outside the Forest, beyond the outer rim, intended as an alien land and people for Forest characters to discover or a beginning for human characters to explore the Forest from the unique perspective of an outsider.  I may never end up doing anything with it.)

The most important consideration for me is how the characters in a story interact with new additions.  I had no idea that the civilized peoples were going to be afraid of snow until I actually started a heading called "culture and folklore" and thought about how snow would be perceived.  I have to struggle with shedding my own ideas - snow is obviously frozen water and not dangerous.  But what if you'd never seen it before?  What if your assumptions about the world are totally different from mine?  When I think about these things, the connections follow - "hey, snow is a monochromatic blanket that covers everything and kills creatures, sort of like the Saffron Moss."

It feels a little bit pretentious to talk about "my process" as if I were an artist, partially because I don't really have one - there's no method for my idea generation.  The "depth," however, is something I do consciously try to go for by thinking in terms of characters (the characters, in this case, are the civilized races).  The nature of something is equally what it actually is and what the characters in the world think it is; sometimes I'm pretty vague on the difference between these two things, which is good, because the characters wouldn't draw any such distinction.

I hope that's... moderately enlightening?

Very much so, and it helps me understand alot of how your process works (whether you like it or not you're an artist... your work is way too good for me to not consider you one :P ).

If the koth is so effective, why are there so few? Or is that part of the mystery? What are they vulnerable to? why do they not reproduce?

I think that most recent writeup is easily one of your best. Thank you also for the description of your process!

Quote from: Light DragonIf the koth is so effective, why are there so few? Or is that part of the mystery? What are they vulnerable to? why do they not reproduce?

I think that most recent writeup is easily one of your best. Thank you also for the description of your process![/quote]I appreciate it!  This is an experiment with a new, broader writeup that touches multiple bases (culture, creatures, geography, and so on), and I think I'll use more like it in the future.

Are the Koth actually considered to be fact? Or are they more like the Abominable Snowman/yeti; a creature some claim to have seen but which there is no proof of.

Quote from: Cataclysmic CrowAre the Koth actually considered to be fact? Or are they more like the Abominable Snowman/yeti; a creature some claim to have seen but which there is no proof of.

are[/i] fact.  Descriptions of them seem to be fairly consistent from sighting to sighting, making it unlikely that it's all a giant conspiracy, but who knows what kind of things people see when oxygen-deprived and in a half-frozen delirium.

As for proof, there is no material proof, only the oaths of those who claim to have seen them.

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[ic=The Memorial]Your thicket-knife slashes once more through the reticulated ivy that hangs over the stone gateway, and a great mass of vegetation slides off the lintel and into a great heap at your feet.  Ahead lies a long courtyard with a broad trench running down it.  Once, this ditch was paved with moss-covered planks, a 'hidden' drainage system that kept the atria and gardens from flooding even during the worst rains.  Now, it is little more than a crumbled furrow from which great trees shoot above the highest towers of the complex.

The courtyard is flanked by two vaulted arcades that proceed onward towards the central tower.  With time and the Forest's inexorable progress, the character of these edifices has been obscured, but once you hack away the vines and creepers it becomes clear that this place is not the work of the Artificers.  The stonework is made in earnest imitation, but it is blockier, more angular, and not nearly as delicate.  The stones have not yet acquired the shadowy patina of those most ancient of ruins, and still show the signatures of gouge and chisel.

Most revealing, however, is the nature of the engravings and statuaries that adorn the gate and arcades.  The art of the Artificers is known by all: bas-reliefs with austere, stylized, almost abstract depictions of shapes, plants, animals, and cogs that reduce shapes to the minimum number of lines required to convey a thought or image.  In contrast, the walls and columns of this ruin are covered in depictions of everyday life '" everyday Iskite life '" rendered in tremendous, almost superfluous detail in deep, bold intaglio.  The scaled people are eternally hard at work within these walls, building, hunting, crafting, and raising the very pillars of the complex you now stand within.  A thousand years has not yet removed every trace of the finest details '" the scales on a soldier's cuirass, the feathers on a servant's fan, the gold-covered hackles of the Lady's counselors.

The Lady '" a figure of antiquity '" is dead.  Her culture is lost, now unrecognizable to latter generations of her race.  Her name and memory, along with the world she lived in, is preserved only within these walls.  Someday, she will be remembered only as the Artificers themselves are: as a nameless specter, an abstraction of history and purpose that set men and beasts into motion in pursuit of the lasting glory that only stone can provide.[/ic]

The civilized races grew up among the ruins of a people they never even knew '" people with no stories and no faces, known by nobody.  Yet these people must have existed, and their legacy has inspired the four races since their collective infancy.  Much of modern art and architecture can be traced back to interpretations of Artificer art.  One can find places where the reliefs of the ancients have been 'defaced,' but often this is a very reverent kind of vandalism, an attempt to add to these wonders in an attempt to gain their immortality.

The Gheen have long believed in the immortality of the blood '" as long as one has descendents, one is never truly dead.  In Tahro tradition, the spirit is never extinguished, but moves back and forth between the spirit world and the physical world in an endless migration.  The Umbril too believe in a kind of natural immortality in which they will be re-absorbed by and forever part of Ivetziven, the great mycelial web that underlies all things.  The Iskites alone, for whatever reason, never truly developed such a conception of the world.  From the earliest days, they looked to the ruins of the Artificers and drew one powerful lesson from them '" flesh dies, words are forgotten, but stone always remains.

Some say that the Iskite predilection for permanent construction and architecture derives from this idea of 'immortality through works.'  Never has this predilection been more evident than in the years of antiquity before the Age of Prophets, and nowhere is it better embodied than in the szalk.

'Szalk' (plural szalkas) once meant a megalith or stele '" a large stone, usually a free-standing one, that serves as a monument, marker, or ritual stone.  The term has changed over time to refer to a monumental, non-Artificer stone complex.  In antiquity, Iskite civilization was largely ruled by hereditary lords, and those with great power and wealth sometimes chose to display this through the construction of 'mock ruins' in the style of the Artificers that came to be known as szalkas.

Szalkas developed into ever larger and more elaborate structures over the generations.  Initially, they were built within or at the edge of villages as a ruler's residence, but later szalkas were massive complexes with concentric ring walls, columned arcades, buttressed towers, and as many works of art and sculpture as could be fit within them.  Though they are reminiscent of castles, most were not seriously designed for defense, and indeed many were constructed by villages that had few fears of raiding or invasion.  Often they were not even within a village itself, instead placed some miles away and visited only rarely.  The purpose of a szalk, after all, was not to be a bastion or true residence, but to stand as a monument glorifying a leader and a people.  Like the pyramids of the pharaohs, Szalkas were intended to be eternal, forever immortalizing the name and deeds of their builder.  Some were (and remain) tombs, where great lords decreed that their bodies should be interred so that one day their descendents would look upon their work and the ancient bones at its center and say 'truly, a great man lies here.'

The great shift in Iskite culture towards the end of the years of antiquity marked the end of these great constructions.  Heredity and monarchy were rejected together, and with them died the idea of the great structure built to glorify and immortalize an undeserving autocrat.  Those szalkas that remained near villages were gradually taken apart and used for building more utilitarian structures, or simply toppled and left in ruins as a firm denial of the old order.  The szalkas that remained in the deeper Forest, however, were mostly forgotten, and many still remain today.  Their number is miniscule compared to the ruins of the Artificers, but they are notable for their (comparatively) recent construction and their relative safety, since one will generally not find Cog Soldiers guarding them.

Because of this latter consideration, some have been adopted by Tahr bloods as seasonal camps.  The largest and most famous of these complexes, Szalk Kengal, is a well-traveled Red Camp for more than a dozen Tahr bloods in the clockwise foothills of the Wyrmcrown.  A few became areas of new Iskite settlement after the Recentering, as refugees of the Orange Horde sought new and more protected places to live.  Most Szalkas are found in Scalemount or the Clawed Thicket, with lesser numbers in the Vinetrough, the Maw, and the counterclockwise Netai littoral.  Some unknown number probably still stand in the Mosswaste, having been built there when the land was uncorrupted.

[note=Prelude]This is a pretty minor feature, but a component of my next overarching goal '" to pick a certain region (not just a city this time) and flesh it out fully.  The region that will get this treatment first is at the edge of Scalemount and has a number of these 'castles.'  It's also a step towards tackling an important issue in the setting - how the people of the CJ interact with and understand the ruins (which are, after all, one of the major distinguishing features of the world).  If we copy classical architecture in so many of our great buildings, why wouldn't the civilized races of the Forest copy the Artificers?[/note]Most, however, are still abandoned.  Explorers have 're-discovered' many, often taking treasures and relics with them for personal gain or to bequeath upon their home communities.  Szalkas were never intended as treasuries, but some that were used for burial or seasonal residence hold valuable objects of ritual and art that could catch a decent price in the right locale.  Some have also been found to include valuable cultural artifacts; it was in such a szalk that the first two books of the Mainspring Analects were first re-discovered during the Age of Prophets.  To deter thieves, some of the original szalk-builders installed traps and snares in the innermost chambers.  Not all of these have survived hundreds of years of decay and neglect, but some are still just as deadly as they were on the day they were made.

[ic=Analogies of the Analects]The bolt lacking a crossbow: the clever man lacking righteousness.
The saber lacking a hilt: the lofty mind lacking discipline.
The helmbreaker lacking a haft: the strong will lacking ritual.
- The Mainspring Analects[/ic]



The vast majority of the civilized peoples of the Forest live in small communities of no more than a few hundred.  They know each other, and all have some responsibility for protecting each other.  Even the Iskites, who typically maintain professional warriors in every settlement, know that an unarmed populace is an invitation to tragedy.  Full-scale war may be rare in the deep jungle, but sudden attacks by animal and Cog predators, lightning raids by neighboring communities, and incursions by the Peril's abominations are all possibilities, and may not come at a time when a settlement's seasoned warriors are ready to repel them.
[note=Festivals]Actually, I'm working on my contribution to the TFC currently, but I've had this sitting around for a while and I thought now would be as good a time as any to edit and post it.  As far as adventurers are concerned, it's pretty important information, even if specifics are a bit spare.  You may notice that this is pretty heavily influenced by Chinese warfare, from the weapons to the "chemical warfare."  Part of that was purposeful, but to some extent it just seemed to come naturally from my assumptions about how these things would work in the CJ environment.  Weird, huh?[/note]
There are, therefore, very few 'non-combatants' in the world of the Clockwork Jungle.  All the civilized races afford their common people with some degree of training in order to better their odds against a predator or allow them to support their more capable fighters in time of war.  This is accomplished in different ways: for the Tahro, physical training takes the form of sport, while the Iskites conduct drills that involve the whole community.  No matter how they are trained, however, the people of the Forest communities are sure to arm themselves.  There is no settlement or polity in the known world that bars its own citizens from carrying weapons '" foreigners may sometimes be required to disarm, but even that is an uncommon custom that indicates an unusually paranoid regime.  It is expected that all will be ready to defend themselves and their community, and they demonstrate this readiness to others through arms.

Because of the close relationship between the common people and their weapons, many common weapons of the Clockwork Jungle '" as on Earth '" ultimately derive from common tools, or are themselves multi-use implements that serve double duty as objects of craft and combat.  Even common people, however, may possess arms meant specifically for combat.  True, one will usually not see a craftsman carrying a Helmbreaker around, but that craftsman may well have one hung above the mantle at home for the day he is called upon to stand against the most savage creatures of the Forest.

Common Weapons of the Forest

No weapon is more central to the iconography of the middle ages than the sword.  In the Clockwork Jungle, the sword is still an important weapon, but the straight, double-edged longswords and arming swords of medieval knights are unknown.  The Clockwork Jungle sword developed from the machete, a tool that sees widespread usage in dense jungle thickets.  A machete, known here as a thicket knife, is a multi-purpose tool carried by many individuals of all four races.  Over time, these tools developed into a strictly military weapon broadly described as a saber and most closely resembling a dao or falchion with a heavy, straight-backed, single-edge blade.  The 'greatsaber,' a two-handed version of this, is not a very common weapon, primarily because it is too large to be useful as a brush-cutting tool (something even a military saber can do if it becomes necessary).

The leaf sword represents the main competitor with the saber for blade design.  The length of a short sword with a gently curving leaf-shaped blade, leaf swords are double-edged but are primarily stabbing weapons used in a similar manner to a gladius.  They are used most commonly among the Iskites '" and the enemies of the Iskites, who prefer it for its ability to penetrate armor.

Settlements without ready access to metal use a bladed club, a club studded with obsidian bladelets like an Aztec Macuahuitl.  Even communities with plenty of metal may use these weapons, as they allow small Cogsteel teeth and claws to be used in the construction of a sword, a weapon that ordinarily cannot be made of Cogsteel.

The axe, another useful tool, also sees common use as a weapon.  Military axes are categorized by the shape of their blade (the trumpet axe, crescent axe, and beaked axe, which is better known to us as a dagger-axe).  The Iskites are known for their use of the poleaxe, or halberd, which has grown into a commonly recognized symbol of Iskite power throughout the Forest.  A derivative of this is the polefan, also known as a mosscutter, a hemi-circular blade mounted on the end of a stave.

On Earth, massed formations of spears (and pikes) formed an important part of warfare from the ancient era to the renaissance.  In the Forest, however, 'armies' tend to be far too small to make good use of the tactics that made Alexander famous, and the jungle terrain makes wielding a long spear '" let alone a group of men wielding them together '" an exercise in futility.  Spears are still very common weapons, but virtually all of them are short enough to be thrown.  Even the trident, a common weapon even outside seaside and riparian communities, is seldom made long or heavy enough as to render it impractical as a throwing weapon.

Cogs, as a rule, are easier to damage by blunt, crushing blows than with blades or sharp points.  As a result, maces and warhammers are common sidearms, and the most formidable Cog-hunting weapon (also useful against plate-clad Iskites) is the helmbreaker, a solid iron cylinder with a single sharp spike on the end mounted on a wooden haft.  It can be swung as a two-handed mace or thrust like a short, heavy spear (much like a goedendag).

Bows enjoyed widespread use long before the advent of the crossbow, but their development has been stalled for some time.  Composite bows never developed because they tend to fall apart in wet environments, an obvious handicap in a rainforest.  Without that technology, the only way for bows to increase in power and range is by lengthening them substantially, which makes them useless to the Gheen.  Other races occasionally use longbows, but each (for various reasons) eventually moved away from them as a primary ranged weapon: the Iskites, preferring to fight from behind fortifications, found the crossbow to more perfectly suit their needs.  In the close quarters of jungle thickets and colony tunnels, the Umbril found longbows to be too cumbersome.  The Tahro in general have never relied heavily on ranged weapons, preferring to take advantage of their prodigious strength and close to melee quickly.  As a result, bows both long and short are considered to be primarily hunting weapons that may be pressed into service in a skirmish if needed.  Few professional soldiers use them, though many are familiar with their use.  The role of dedicated ranged weapon has fallen to the crossbow instead.

Crossbows range from light stonebows or 'bullet crossbows,' which fire hard clay, stone, or lead pellets for bird hunting, to the heavy Iskite windlass-spanned arbalest that can even pierce steel plate at short range.  The best of these latter weapons use thin and flexible Cogsteel 'bones' as prods.  Though the Iskites are known for these devices, it was the Umbril who are said to have invented the repeating crossbow, essentially identical to the Chinese version.  Larger, stationary versions of these are used by the Iskites and Gheen to defend their settlements; the most advanced are hopper-fed and can sustain continuous fire for up to several minutes.  Stationary ballistae, called 'talon-throwers,' are used by the Netai Smokefleet and other regional khauta fleets to shoot at enemy crews and snag envelopes, but these are torsion-powered and not mechanically related to tension-powered crossbows.  In general, though blade-forging technology in the Forest has not progressed much further than Iron Age Earth, crossbow technology is at least comparable to what was achieved in the Renaissance.  The finest Iskite arbalests are probably more powerful and accurate than such weapons ever became on Earth, primarily because gunpowder has not had the opportunity to divert attention away from the continuing development of the crossbow.
 
Hand crossbows '" referring to those smaller devices that can be fired with a single hand '" exist, but are not in common use.  They are capable neither of the fast rate of fire of the repeating crossbow nor the armor-piercing power of the arbalest.  Since few will even think twice about someone carrying a full-size crossbow around due to the prevalence of weapons in nearly every community, concealment is less of a concern than it might be among societies with stricter regulations on weapons.  Hand crossbows remain a decidedly niche weapon unheard of in professional armories.

Many thrown weapons also fill the arsenals of Forest settlements.  As mentioned, most spears are designed to be thrown, but warriors also use long, flexible darts that are designed to be thrown with a dart-thrower, a hooked stick that can catapult these light projectiles with great speed and force.  Throwing axes, clubs, and knives are somewhat less common, but still find use, particularly among the Gheen.  The Umbril also use an odd-looking throwing weapon called a branch knife, with multiple curving blades that decrease the range of the weapon but make it more likely to score at least a scratch on a target; as the Umbril usually poison their weapons, just a scratch can be enough.  When attempting to capture or disable an enemy, bolas and spiked nets are thrown.  The Tahro have made bola-throwing into a sport and are consequently very proficient in their use.

Other Ways of War

Poisons find a great deal of use in combat.  None of the civilized races have any kind of legal or ethical prohibitions against poison; the civilized peoples of the Forest would scoff at the idea that poison is especially 'cruel' or 'inhumane,' as if stabbing or shooting someone is not.  Some cities of the Netai have controls on poisons, but this is at the behest of the chronically paranoid Confederation power structure rather than a reflection of ethical standards.  In most communities, 'poisonmonger' is a respected trade that is not considered to be any different than the vocation of a weaponsmith '" if anything, it may be more prestigious.
[note=Chivalry]The status of poisons in the world offers a glimpse at the concept of chivalry in the Clockwork Jungle - it doesn't really exist.  The hostile environment has generally precluded ideas about "honorable" warfare from taking root; the closest analog is Tahro "ritual war" that happens between bloods to settle disputes (but the Tahro pay no heed to their notions of honorable war when fighting aliens).  As Thals-Tadun Nata once famously quipped, "the only dishonorable warrior is a defeated warrior."[/note]
Though the Umbril are known as the masters of plant and fungal toxins, poisons are used regularly by all four races.  Blowguns with poisoned darts are common weapons for both hunting and warfare (save among the Umbril themselves, who are anatomically unable to use them), and poison is applied to throwing knives, arrows, thrown darts, thicket knives, repeating crossbow bolts, and other weapons and projectiles that tend not to kill outright.

Various other substances have also seen some occasional use in combat.  Fire Oil or Searing-Sap is the name given to a sticky, highly flammable substance made from a blend of tree resins that cannot be doused by water.  It is primarily used to light flaming arrows and bolts, but was employed to great effect against ships and balloons by the Confederation, the Oranids, and the Right Orientation Alliance during the Netai Wars.  Caustic powdered quicklime, made by burning limestone, has also been used to inflict pain and blindness on the enemy for hundreds of years (the Gheen in particular are known for this tactic).

For generations, herbalists and natural philosophers with a more martial bent have noted combinations of herbs, fungi, minerals, and even animal dung that produce useful fumes and smoke-clouds.  The list of such compounds is long and well-documented.  Some create a lasting cloud to obscure the enemy's sight, while others incapacitate with noxious vapors or create poison fogs that kill in minutes.  According to legend, the Orpimine Overseer ordered ditches filled with valuable orpiment and realgar to be lit aflame in the path of the advancing Orange Horde, filling the air with sulfur and arsenic gases (the Horde did indeed leave the city alone after a brief and unsuccessful attempt at conquest).

Protection

Armor in the Clockwork Jungle has developed according to the unique environmental conditions of the world, as well as the weapons a warrior most frequently finds arrayed against him.  One might assume armor in the jungle must remain light because of the overpowering heat and humidity, but the denizens of the Forest are biologically accustomed to it.  They can freely wear armor that might well give a human heat stroke in the same environment.  Even so, most races prefer lighter armor because it allows them to use the Forest understory to their advantage.  The Gheen in particular rely on their mobility to prevail in a fight, and staying light is important to them.  The heaviest armor is only in common use among the Iskites; in their settlement clearings, being able to climb trees is not an issue.

Even when armor is light, it tends to cover as much skin as possible, a necessity borne of the ubiquity of poison in Forest warfare (though the Gheen, resistant to poison as they are, put less emphasis on this in their designs).  Having a good breastplate is of small comfort if a poisoned bolt scratches your bare arm.  Armor is often worn in multiple layers '" a softer, lighter inner layer to keep glancing blows from breaking the skin, and a harder, heavier outer layer to protect vital parts of the body from bolts and blades.

The inner layer is usually made of multiple layers of cloth or leather, quilted and padded with coarse hair or fur.  Another variant includes metal or bone beads to dull glancing blades.  Those with more to spend often prefer wraps of interwoven layers of Saryet silk, which is both lighter and tougher.  Outer armor is often a vest or larger suit of scale made from metal, horn, or leather.  A cheaper alternative is animal hides, either raw or cured.  The inner bark of the Yeske tree can be woven into a tough cuirass much more flexible than one would assume wooden armor could be.  Some warriors wear metal 'pectorals,' plates worn on the chest (and sometimes back), or full breastplates that cover the sides and shoulders as well.  Well-equipped Iskite warriors wear lamellar cuirasses and leggings made from iron lames (the rectangular plates in lamellar armor) woven onto a leather backing.

Helmets are a necessity among proper warriors.  Even the Gheen, if armored with nothing else, wear a metal, hide, or yeske cap strapped tightly to the head.  Loose-hanging shrouds and aventails are not popular, but many helmets have neck and side protection in the form of flaps or panels secured with a chin or neck strap.  Some helmets have face protection as well, ranging from a 'nasal' made from a bone or metal spike to a metal mask meant to both protect and frighten.  Visored helmets are a fairly new invention, mostly restricted to the Iskites.  The Iskites in general are known for highly elaborate metal helms with articulated throat-protectors, engraved faceplates, lamellar 'hackle-sleeves' on the back of the neck, and headdresses of dyed hair or plumage.

Shields are another common defensive item.  Even warriors who favor a two-handed weapon often carry a shield in order to cover themselves from missile fire as they advance on an enemy.  Most shields are round, as to not catch on vegetation or obstacles, but square, rectangular, and oval shields can also be found occasionally.  Hide-covered wood is the most common shield composition.  Wealthier warriors may have shields edged or faced with copper or iron, though all-metal shields are rare simply because of their weight.

Festivals

In the spirit of the current topic, I've been working on detailing a few of the major festivals of the Clockwork Jungle.  I had hoped to post one for each race, but I don't quite have 4 yet and the fortnight is almost half over!  Instead, I have two, detailing a Gheen coronation ceremony and what might be called the "Iskite Olympics."

Ayroyeetal

A tal is an irregular festival among the Gheen, meaning one that is tied to an event rather than a specific day.  In the case of the Ayroyeetal, the event is of supreme importance to most dreys '" the coronation of a new Queen.

Sometimes, the death of a Queen necessitates an Ayroyeetal, but more often Queens 'retire' from rulership.  As a spiritual leader, the Queen must participate fully in the drey's religious rites, almost all of which are celebratory in nature.  In other words, a Queen must retain at least some level of physical resilience to be able to handle her year-round duties, duties that become more difficult with age.  It must be remembered that while Gheen monarchs may wield power in their family and drey, this power comes more from their place in the family and their personal charisma rather than their position as Queen.  'Retiring' Queens usually continue to exert great influence over their successor and the whole family, so very little is lost by choosing to relinquish the throne early.

Because the Queen's primary role is to act as the drey's intermediary to the gods, the foremost purpose of the Ayroyeetal is to introduce the new Queen to the gods and assure them that the favors of the Gheen will continue to reach them through this new conduit.  Ayroyeetal literally means 'new skin festival,' because  the Gheen seek to prove to the gods that this is the same blood, the same family, the same Gheen, albeit in the skin of the daughter instead of the mother.

The Ayroyeetal is a two-day ceremony that begins with the 'call to celebration' with flutes and bells.  The gathered residents of the drey bring food they have prepared for the occasion and alternate between communal feasting and singing.  Many villages have specific delicacies that are expected to be served at an Ayroyeetal, and these vary considerably from region to region.  In some cases, these dishes are served at no other time, making them a rare treat indeed.  Paper lanterns (white, never dyed) are hung from every available platform and branch within the drey.  Unusually, the Gheen do not dress colorfully for this festival, for fear of distracting the gods from their new Queen.  The residents of the drey wear drab clothes (some of which have been unused since the last Ayroyeetal) and abstain from jewelry.  If their colors are muted, however, the celebrations themselves are not, and the festivities continue until nightfall.

They are joined in this celebration by the old Queen.  If she is dead, the guest of honor is instead the previous Queen's plastered skull (it is the Gheen tradition to allow scavengers to pick clean the bones of the dead, remove the bare skull, cover it in plaster to resemble the face of the dead, decorate it with pigments and gemstones, and then keep it on a shelf).  This can pose a problem if the Queen is recently dead, for the body will not have had enough time to decay down to bare bone.  The Gheen solve this by manually stripping the dead skull of flesh, sometimes with the help of a bowl full of maggots, and 'temporarily' plastering it until a more permanent process can be applied at the conclusion of the festivites.  The skull is treated as if it were the old Queen herself '" her fellows sit her at the head of the table, heap honors upon her, and provide her with food and drink.

The upcoming Queen is conspicuously absent during these festivities.  She busies herself with memorizing the many songs she will have to sing in the coming coronation, and spends the day in isolation.  When night falls, she retires to the dwelling of the hemomancer (Red Gheen: yolsaraya, literally 'blood conjurer'), who aids her in communing with the spirits of her ancestors dwelling in her veins.  This consultation lasts all night.  Just before dawn, the old Queen (or her skull) is brought in.  If the old Queen is living, she spills her blood into a bowl, and the new Queen paints her face with it.  If the old Queen is dead, the skull is de-plastered, split into two pieces, and worn by the new Queen as a mask.

The new Queen emerges with the dawn to meet her gathered subjects.  On a platform is placed all of the drey's idols, physical vessels that the gods are said to inhabit when invited by the Gheen to their religious festivals.  The new Queen sings a song imploring the gods to accept their hospitality, addressing herself by her predecessor's name.  She places offerings of food before them, and wets their lips with liquor.  In a few Gheen dreys, the sacrifice of a sentient being (usually a Gheen who has chosen to give himself up for the gods) is done at this point as well.  When this ceremony is complete, the new Queen washes the blood off her face (or removes the skull mask, as the case may be) and sings to the gods that nothing has changed '" the daughter is the mother, the new Queen is the old, and the drey will never forget their hospitality to the gods.  The assembled population begins their coronation songs and a second day of merriment is begun with the new Queen to lead them.

Sesses eng Salej

No day in the Iskite ritual calendar is more highly anticipated than the Sesses eng Salej, yet it is often the only festival a village has that is not fixed to a specific date in the Iskite ritual calendar.  Its critical importance to the cohesion, identity, and survival of the community requires that its placement be as auspicious as possible, so a village's astronomers and priests collaborate closely to determine a date for the Sesses eng Salej that will ensure the maximum favor of the powers of heaven and earth.  Typically, this date lies within the Red Season (the most auspicious of seasons and the beginning of the new year), but exceptional circumstances and portents may place it anywhere within the ritual year.

Literally, Sesses eng Salej means 'duty of females.'  At its core, the week-long festival is a competition between the village's eligible adult females to be chosen to bear an egg of the yearly quota, as set by the village's Grandmasters.  The week, however, is also a time of celebration and feasting that is otherwise relatively uncommon in traditional Iskite culture, in which all participate.  Like sporting events throughout Earth's history, it is used as an opportunity '" some would say excuse '" to turn oneself from weighty to trivial matters and enjoy being a spectator.

An 'eligible female' is any Iskite master (that is, someone who has completed their '˜flower-work' and is considered an adult) who is in good standing with the community.  Though an individual may be physically old enough to have children, this is not permitted until the flower-work is completed and she is accepted by her trade and village as a full member of society.  Any eligible female may have her name added to the rolls of competitors.

The actual content of the competitions varies considerably from village to village.  In general, the competitions are a mix of five kinds of events:

Athletic contests, including foot races, jumping, and tree-climbing*Martial contests, including wrestling,

shlak (an Iskite martial art), staff-fighting, javelin-throwing, and archery (often with crossbows rather than bows)*Gaming contests, including a wide variety of strategy games (think chess, not checkers) such as cogsmarch, cat's paw, and prince's gambit (originally an Umbril game)*Performance contests, including music (always with an instrument, never singing), dance, and poetry*Scholarly contests, including competitive mathematics and geometry, recitation (of important Iskite philosophical and scholarly texts), and calligraphy[/list]
Villages do not use all these events.  If all the listed events were performed, the Sesses eng Salej would never fit into a week.  The point is to find the 'whole measure of a person,' testing their physical and mental abilities against their peers to 'objectively' establish who is most deserving of the honor of carrying on the life of the community.  Though the Iskites do not have any conception of evolution or genetics, they do believe that strong parents (that is, mentally and physically strong) beget strong children, and that strong children are the foundation of a strong society.  Additionally, because there is a limited quota of children that the Grandmasters allow to be born, the question of who has the privilege of begetting them can only be fairly solved by competition.

The Sesses eng Salej is opened on a serious note.  The competitors are sworn to honesty before the grandmasters and the gods, on penalty of exile (which is indeed carried out if cheating is discovered).  The entire population of the village, aside from those on essential duties (guards and hatchery tenders), participates in a mass prayer that lasts for hours.  During this time, the village priests make sacrifices and sacred incantations to secure divine favor for the coming events.

The competitions that follow are always very well-attended.  Pupils, masters, and grandmasters alike take eager interest in the festivities.  Each competitor is identified by a set of colored plumes on their hackles, and spectators often sport the colors of their friends, masters, and fellow artisans to show support.  Total silence is expected when events are in progress, but as soon as a victor is declared in an event the village resounds in shouting, whistling, and tongue-clicking.  The competitors are kept sequestered from the general population during this time; while they endure special rations and constant meditation and purification ceremonies, the rest of the village indulges in daily feasts.

Though only females can be actual competitors, much of the day's activity involves unofficial contests among males, typically mirroring the official events.  Some villages have small prizes for the males as well, though usually these are provided by generous individuals rather than the village grandmasters.  Spectators of these events are free to make as much noise as they like, and male contests tend to be much more free-form and jovial.

The festival ends with the selection of the 'honored victor' (the female who performed best overall) and the 'roll of privilege' (the females, including the victor, who did well enough to be included in the quota), who are all crowned with flower wreaths by the children of the village.  The Sesses eng Salej has its roots in ancient sporting traditions, long before it became a means to select a village's mating females, and in those days the victor was traditionally crowned with a golden snout-plate (an Iskite 'crown' that rests on the face between the eyes and nose) and treated like a monarch for the entire day '" even the village's lord would bow to her.  Though this tradition was discouraged by the Grand Authority during the Age of Prophets, some villages continue a similar tradition in which the victor is treated as something like royalty.  Some of these even address her as lia (the Iskite pronunciation of reeya, which is the Gheen word for 'queen'), in a strange homage to (and mockery of) Gheen nobility.

Typically, the winners receive no material prizes, but to be chosen is a great honor in Iskite society.  An honored victor is often referred to as such ever after (e.g. 'Honorable Ssewa of Iswess' or 'Ssewa, Victor of Iswess').  All those on the roll, of course, are officially allowed and directed to find a mate, something which they have one year to do.  Failure to do this within a year forfeits the privilege, and if a female wishes to bear an egg, she will have to compete again.  Males are keen to court the new winners, for it is nearly as great an honor to be chosen by a successful competitor as it is to actually be one.

The standing stone Szalks are interesting. Their evolution reflects the development of real-world culture a great deal. Do you work much with anthropology, history, or sociology as a hobby?

The discussion and honorable position of poison in this society was interesting.

Considering the high stakes of the Iskite Games (egg bearing) I am surprised that the mood is so light hearted. Isn't the prize a big deal? Shouldn't the participants be more cut-throat and nasty- especially bitter ones who never win? What is the place of the never-winners in society? Arent' they looked down on? Do they not at least suffer a sense of inferiority?