| Race Profile: the Vadhans |
[May. 23rd, 2004|07:57 pm] |
( Pencil sketch of two Vadhans )
From the surface, Vadha appears to be a craggy land of basalt, granite, and spongey pumice spires, broken up by hundreds upon hundreds of clear lakes, each one pouring in waterfalls down to the ones below it. Forests and marshes do exist on Vadha, especially in the shallower areas where silt from the higher lakes has settled, and the wide floodplains of its bottom reaches - when they're not flooded - are green and grassy. Most of what's important in Vadha, however, happens beneath the water.
Vadhans are amphibious, although they generally spend most of their time in fresh water. There's enough moisture in the air most places that they can live out of water for days at a time, but there's really nothing like a good soak; if their gills dry out completely, the condition can be fatal. Salt water is also harmful to them for the same reason - they can't breathe it for exactly the same reason we can't drink it.
On land, Vadhans are fairly ungainly and clumsy, although with some training they can learn various "strokes" - tail motions that will propel them across dry land at a walking pace. More athletic Vadhans have mastered complex springing sidewinding strokes that are easily as fast as any land-dweller can run. This is entirely because Vadhan tails are incredibly flexible; the Vadhan skeleton stops just below the rib cage, being all cartilage below that point. Their tail is versatile enough to be thought of as a third arm; all Vadhans can hang upside-down by their tails with ease.
Vadha is volcanically active, and occasional bubbling jets of boiling water will erupt from the floor of the lakes; the Vadhans will often gather around these jets as social centers for as long as they last (a few months at best). Their culture is fairly simple and mostly agrarian; they raise seaweed and rice, herd schools of fish (trout and salmon especially), and go "ducking".
Ducking is exactly like fishing in reverse; a hook is baited with a small piece of fish and attached to a float, then released in one of the more marshy areas. When a waterfowl happens to take the bait and get its beak caught by the hook, it's reeled in (and downward). Duck is a staple food in the shallower areas of Vadha.
One habit the Vadhans have picked up from the surface-dwellers they've remained in contact with is that of cooking food over fire; while traditional Vadhan food is served completely raw (apart from the rice, which is cooked by steaming it over one of the hot-water jets in a stone pot), it has become a social event to bring family and friends above the water to a nice spot and roast things over a real fire.
Most Vadhans (at least, the ones who stay on Vadha) are intensely religious, worshipping a pair of gods named Nalu, Lord of the Eternal Fountain, and Luwo the Devourer. They represent creation and destruction, respectively, and these two forces are seen as a constant balance. If either were to overwhelm the other, the world would end; Nalu would rather wash the world away entirely and replace it with nothing but water, while Luwo would simply swallow everything leaving the world barren. Nalu is who you pray to for providence and good fortune; his shrines are always large and elaborate. Luwo is who you pray to to smite your enemies and bring ill fortune to others; she has no shrines, as her rituals are all conducted in private. |
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| Random thoughts on Samselism |
[May. 23rd, 2004|12:22 am] |
Be like the sun. The sun gives freely of itself, yet never asks for anything in exchange. We thank it nonetheless, but even without our appreciation it would shine just as bright...
The sun belongs to no one, yet follows its course of day and night, of summers and winters, never erring. Why? The sun knows what it must do. It takes no orders, simply following its set path through the sky. The sun belongs to no country, shining as it does on all nations. If the sun belonged to someone, it would belong to no one, but as it belongs to everyone, it can belong to anyone...
Even the harshest summer day is followed by a night, and the coldest winter night followed by a morning. When all seems dark, remember that the sun will once again rise. Be patient, and endure. The sun will come up even if you are impatient and complaining, but you may not feel its warmth as well...
(excerpted from the Analects of Samsel)
I was going to do a race profile on the Vadhans, but I'll get to that a bit later; I've come up with some slightly more coherent stuff for the Samselites I wanted to share with you first.
They do worship the sun, but not as a god; it's no use anthropomorphizing something that clearly doesn't respond to the sorts of things gods usually go in for. Samselites view prayer as the antithesis of religion - one should be thankful enough to the powers one worships that one shouldn't have to ask them for favors. The sun just is, and they thank it for being what it is.
Their churches are spread throughout Delyria. Most of these are in Ertset, where the religion was founded sometime around the year 300 (Spellshocked takes place in 1528, for comparison). There are others throughout the world, however, and the gold and orange robes of Samselite priests and monks are worn on every continent. Gold is a sacred color; the large east-facing windows present in every Samselite church are often covered in intricate gold-leaf patterns (and heavily warded against thieves and vandals, of course). Brightly polished brass instruments are kept at the front of the church for the morning mass; the fanfare to the rising sun plays every morning, calling the faithful to the service. The churches are open to all visitors, of course, and the insides are always kept warm and inviting.
Samselism is mainly about staying true to nature. This doesn't mean Samselites go out and live in the woods, shunning cities; far from it. It is in the nature of thinking beings to build cities - but, of course, these cities must interfere as little as possible with the other parts of nature going on around and within them. A carefully kept lawn is considered inferior to simply letting the plants grow where they will, for instance.
Although there's nothing in Samsel's writings saying that all Samselites must be vegetarian, most are, for the simple reason that most Samselites are Ertseti, and the Ertseti can't eat meat anyway... Nevertheless, this example is followed in other parts of the world as well, even in places like Zem and Levend where meat forms a large part of the native diet. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 16th, 2004|05:25 pm] |
Just throwing something up here so you know this journal's not dead - a small portrait sketch of a random Vadhan with a slightly more dolphinnish face. No, I'm not redesigning them yet again; this is just standard variation within the race. I'm still not quite ready to go back to regular updates, but when I do I think another race profile (for the Vadhans) is in order. |
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| On Chroma and its Colors |
[Apr. 21st, 2004|08:15 pm] |
Chroma is the substance that comprises the bulk of the living material on the Maginary Plane. It exists in pockets there, in and around the areas associated with certain types of places on the Physical plane. These pockets are similar to puddles or watering holes; maginaria of similar colors to the chroma will gather there to feed (on the chroma or on each other). Each color has a specific set of associations and characteristics:
Red chroma is generated by active sources of heat - the hotter, the better. A campfire won't generate very much at all, but the heat of a foundry will make a nice big red pool. Red maginaria are always spiny, spiky, or have other such sharp bits - teeth, claws, natural blades... Maginaria don't follow the same anatomical rules as physical creatures, but every color does have a characteristic that typifies it. The destructive nature of fire suits red maginaria's natural weaponry. Note that red maginaria are also the ones who can set fires in the Physical plane (and the ones mages call upon to cast the ever-popular fire-based attack spells). The reason this doesn't cause a loop is that, even taking into account the fact that fire catches on things, it's not so much the amount of fire that matters as its temperature. Sure, a maginaria could start a forest fire, but it would end up with a large amount of really crummy sparsely-spread chroma for its efforts, and other maginaria would just swoop in and take some for themselves. Better to find a mage who'll feed you for some quick work.
Red is a powerful color, but lacks versatility; there's really only one thing it does well.
Orange chroma is associated with light, lightning, and electricity. Thunderstorms generate quite a bit of orange chroma (in short bursts all at once, of course), but anywhere with glass, mirrors, or reflective crystals will be a favorite hangout for orange maginaria, who always appear metal-plated or phosphorescent, and frequently both. Orange is an impressive color to see in action, but because of this it lacks in subtlety. There's just no way to keep an orange maginaria hidden for long.
Yellow is associated with force and solid objects (especially the element of earth). It's generated when things fall over or collide - the heavier the objects and the stronger the impact, the better. This makes seismically active regions popular places for yellow maginaria to be. Yellow maginaria are heavy and multi-legged - all the better to stay stable in the same sorts of places as they tend to be. Yellow is extremely versatile, but takes an awful lot of chroma to get any real power out of.
Green is, of course, associated with life and living things; as creatures and plants grow and multiply, green chroma is generated, sometimes in very large amounts. Green maginaria have exaggeratedly long limbs, often flexible and vine-like; green magic is both powerful and versatile, but dangerous to those who lack skill; life is a complicated process, and magic that affects it needs to be carefully studied before put into practice.
[the rest of the colors later; I've been busy, and this is going to be a fairly long section anyway] |
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| Race profile: the Levendish |
[Apr. 11th, 2004|10:01 pm] |
( Levendish Design Sketches )
The continent of Levend is small and cold, but fertile. The northern half is mostly covered in pine forests, while the south (containing Delyria's south pole within) is more craggy and mountainous, containing some of Delyria's most rugged terrain.
Physically, the Levendish are small and slight (averaging about five feet tall for an adult male), and are covered in fur that ranges in color from white through gray, blond, and red to brown or black. This fur color is with them for life; it never goes gray or white with age. They also exhibit all sorts of patterns, from stripes to spots or a gloves-and-socks sort of effect. Combined with their pointed ears and faces that resemble that of a cat, fox, or other such small carnivore, it's no surprise that some Levendish are born resembling existing animals. This is where the Silverfox clan got its name - they are not literally foxes, but just happen to have the right combination of traits that a comparison was inevitable.
The Levendish are very social. Even though most of Levend is rural and dotted with small farming villages, even the tiniest village will have a public house - a great structure, wide open on the inside but well-protected against the cold outside, with a blazing fireplace, long tables (perfect for conversations, storytelling, or board games, all of which are very popular Levendish activities), and communal food for all. Anyone is welcome to a public house - men, women, children, even foreigners. Especially foreigners, who tell the best stories (even if they may need to be loosened up with a mug or two of cider).
Levendish food tends to be simple but hearty - spit-roasted sides of whatever animal the hunters could catch (usually boar or venison), stews and soups of vegetables and other parts of that same animal, sausage (made from herbs and, naturally, the leftover bits of that animal again), and dark dense rolls and loaves of bread. In the wintertime, they eat down the stocks of preserved and pickled food they've built up over autumn. Everything is prepared in large amounts - most meals happen in the public house, and you never know who may drop by.
The Levendish language is used throughout Delyria as an international standard of trade and learning. This is due to two factors - one is the tendency of the Levendish to colonize wherever they can find a foothold, spreading their language and using it to deal with traders all over the map. The other is its simplicity; the Levendish are a people accustomed to telling stories, and over the centuries, the language has evolved into one which is streamlined and simple, most of its more flowery or technical language being borrowed from other languages and not strictly necessary in everyday speech. There may be only one word for "tree", but different kinds of trees are simply compounds derived from this - an apple tree might be a "red-fruit-tree", while a birch is a "white-paper-tree". Its alphabet, too, is highly simplified; its 13 letters are enough to represent all of the language's sounds in such a way that the ambiguities can generally be resolved from context.
The two most successful Levendish colonies have been Almanaque and Grandegear, but those two will get their own sections later on. |
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| Brief introduction to Delyria and the ideas behind it |
[Apr. 7th, 2004|10:33 pm] |
Delyria is, on the surface, an original fantasy world that shares many of the same trappings as most other fantasy worlds do - magic, monsters, spirits, the whole nine yards. However, Delyria is based on the idea that any of these traditional tropes and assumptions can be reexamined, dissected, and put back in place with an actual explanation behind it. Something more than "it's magic". In Delyria, magic not only works, but there's a logical reason for it and why it's capable of doing what it does. It's the exact opposite of Star Wars in that way; Star Wars is sci-fi on the surface but is actually very much a fantasy. Delyria is fantasy on the surface but is actually, in its own strange way, science fiction.
The essential component to magic on Delyria is the world's dual nature; the world most people on Delyria call Delyria is just one half of the picture - the Physical realm. The flip side is the Maginary realm, which is where minds travel when dreaming. It's home to beings called maginaria, which come in sizes and power levels ranging from microscopic (in fact, just about any process that on Earth depends on microorganisms, such as disease, fermentation, or bread rising, is actually a low-power form of magic on Delyria) to immense (often taking on the role of "gods"). Maginaria are made of a substance called chroma - which, nicely, is also what maginaria eat, which means most maginaria are happily carnivorous maginarivorous. However, chroma's also created by processes taking place in the Physical realm - a burning fire creates red chroma, flowing water creates blue chroma, and so on. More on the colors in a later post. Intelligent beings (like members of the races of Delyria) generate colorless chroma.
This is a rough picture of how magic works: mages are trained to release their own chroma (a process that takes concentration and practice, and is often supplemented with chroma supplies such as the crystals set into amulets or staffs) into a sort of bubble - a spell - that defines a contract. If a maginaria wants that chroma, it must perform the associated action. This works out very well for both the mage and the maginaria; the mage gets to cast a spell and the maginaria gets fed. Chroma only regenerates through physical processes, so the maginaria are largely dependent on nature and on magic to live.
Another important point about Delyria is that it's very small - roughly 1000 miles in diameter, with a total population of about 10 million. Featherglass is considered to be a large college, even though it only has a student population of about 500. This is a fairly important difference between Delyria and Earth - it's small. Continents are only a few days' travel apart by ship, which means travel and colonization are much more commonplace, especially among the Levendish, who invariably were the first non-natives to get anywhere, since they were the first with ships (developing on a smallish continent covered in trees is a big help to that).
More later - this is just the intro post. Expect this journal to be sort of stream-of-consiousness at times. |
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