T-Kur

Western Imperials

Liran

Although both peoples - the Kurii and the Turavaai - were granted the freedom to shape their own fate after the Fall of Xaal, their paths quickly diverged. The pace at which they wrote their new chapters was shaped by the nature of their Vataam—those sacred trees whose bond still exerted a powerful influence over their hearts and minds.

Among the earliest achievements of the Kurii was song - a gift that, according to their legends, was received directly from the heart of their Vataam. It is said that the first songs were whispered into their minds during the early years of the tree’s metamorphosis. The melodies, sometimes filled with joy and confidence, at other times with solemnity and melancholy, echoed through the forests of the Kurii. According to their tales, these songs tamed the wilderness and softened the harshness of Xaal - though whether there is any truth to this story can no longer be verified. What is undeniable, however, is that the Kurii’s passion for song gave rise to the written language of the Aeir in Aldargar. Thus, the Kurii became the first Aeir to transcribe the old-aeiric language into written characters. The earliest manuscripts of this language were the poetry of the Kurii, preserved in ink.

Yet, it was not only song that shaped their new identity. Early on, the Kurii discovered a passion for cultivating plants - an act that marked a fundamental shift in an era where Xaal’s untamed rule had made such cultivation unthinkable. With their own hands and the magic they had once wielded in service to Xaal - though now in a diminished form - they shaped fertile gardens and groves within the harsh wilderness.

The Aeir quickly realized that their newfound freedom would not endure without struggle. The Kurii learned to defend their borders—at that time still defined by the influence of their Vataam—with armed force: against homeless Aeir who no longer possessed a bond to the trees, and against the horrors that the upheaval of the times had driven out from the depths of the earth and the dark places of the undergrowth. Yet, battle was neither the calling nor the desire of the gentle Kurii, just as hunting the beasts of the forest was not.

The Turavaai, shaped by the relentless nature of their Vataam, were fundamentally different in this regard. As great warriors, terrible in their wrath and deeply mistrustful of anything beyond their northern territories, they had far fewer talents or joys within their clans. What mattered most was strength and not without reason, for the North had become the largest refuge of Aeir who lost their Vataam but survived - enemies who had to be constantly repelled.

Even in their earliest days, the weapon-making of the Turavaai far outmatched that of the Kurii in both the hardness of their materials and the brutality of their designs. Their arsenal included spears, swords, axes, and bows whose arrows mimicked the howling of the wind. The primary material used for their arrowheads, axe blades, and blade was the pale, shimmering, hardened resin of their Vataam for the working of copper, bronze, or even iron was still beyond their understanding.

Their most formidable weapon was their mastery over the storm. Like the Kurii, they had received gifts over the millennia spent in service to Xaal. They had the ability to channel the wind through their power, unleashing ferocious gusts that swept their enemies away like chaff. Their mightiest warriors could shape the wind into invisible blades or even summon devastating tempests capable of laying waste to entire regions—a gift from their Vataam that made them the unyielding guardians of the North.

Hunting was an integral part of Turavaai culture. They regularly ventured into the wilderness to hunt not only ordinary game but also far more dangerous prey. A key aspect of their hunting and warfare was the use of cleverly constructed traps—some crafted from wood, others woven from the living flora of their forests. Particularly formidable and malevolent creatures that had survived Xaal’s retreat were not hunted merely for their meat. Among the Turavaai, slaying a particularly dangerous beast was often seen as a demonstration of strength.

While the traditional body paintings of the Aeir gradually faded into obscurity among the Kurii, the Turavaai maintained this practice, though in a form that had evolved over centuries. The deep blue pigments for their markings were derived from the berries of the Ixtiin shrub.

Despite the stark differences between the Kurii and the Turavaai, their bond to their Vataam remained a central element of their identity - a constant that ran through their entire history and endures to this day.

This bond, no longer rooted in coercion after the fall of Xaal, was called Vaeyav by the Kurii - and later by the Turavaai as well. This old-aeiric word is difficult to translate into modern languages, as it encapsulates concepts of joy, passion, ambition, purpose, and strength. The most common translation - and the one later adopted by human cultures into their own languages—was Echo. Yet, if one were to ask an Aeir about their connection to their Vataam, no single word could truly capture the depth of Vaeyav. To the Aeir, this bond was something that transcended the limitations of language.

Blackkeim is a substance of great intrigue to those who study the principles of matter and its alteration. In its purified state, Blackkeim forms a hard solid, dark and metallic in sheen, yet deceptively light compared to other metals. Unlike common ores, it does not yield easily to heat alone; it requires precise conditions to enter its active state, revealing its true nature as a key to deeper transformations.

Blackkeim does not react violently with water, nor does it corrode in open air as common metals do. Instead, when finely ground and introduced to flame, it burns with an eerie green luminescence, indicating a deep affinity for fire and air. This reaction suggests a hidden energy within its structure, an energy that, if properly harnessed, can serve as the cornerstone for more refined processes of transmutation.

Most metals resist change or degrade when forced into new forms, but Blackkeim readily bonds with other elements, creating alloys of unique resilience and lightness. When combined with iron, it imparts an unnatural hardness without adding weight; when dissolved in alchemical solvents, it enhances their potency, allowing for more efficient separations and purifications. These properties make it invaluable in the refinement of rare substances and the forging of tools that must withstand great stresses without succumbing to brittleness.

Notably, Blackkeim possesses an affinity for absorbing certain essences, particularly those drawn from celestial or mineral sources. When exposed to controlled conditions of heat and pressure, it can take on qualities not found in its raw state, suggesting that it is not merely a passive material but an active medium for transformation. Some theorists propose that its structure holds an unseen lattice that allows energy to pass through it in ways not yet fully understood, making it a matter of continued study among learned scholars of transmutation.

Where other metals serve as mere vessels, Blackkeim is an instrument of change itself. Though difficult to refine and treacherous to work with in impure forms, its potential far exceeds that of more common substances. Those who master its workings hold in the hands the means to alter not only base matter but the very principles by which matter behaves.

I. The Prehistory of Aldargar: Primeval Era

The events of Aldargar during the Age of Xaal—named after the primordial, world-spanning jungle that shaped this early epoch—are now, like most occurrences of that time, lost to history. Xaal was the name of an ancient forest of unfathomable depth and age, whose dense canopy cast the ground of the firstborn world into an eternal twilight. In both appearance and vastness, Xaal did not resemble modern conceptions of a forest—it stretched across the entire world, from the farthest west to the farthest east.

The first inhabitants of this primeval jungle were the Aeir, including those who dwelled in the region of Aldargar. These woodland nomads, who once roamed the undergrowth, built no kingdoms, and no records of their deeds and creations from that era exist. Their way of life was dictated by the hostile nature of Xaal, which possessed a will of its own and allowed no permanent settlements. As enduring as the colossal trees of the jungle seemed at the time, life beneath their towering crowns was ever fleeting.

Anything not born directly of Xaal itself was, at best, tolerated and had to adapt to the wild and unpredictable nature of the forest. Though the Aeir never managed to subdue Xaal, the millennia during which the jungle reached its greatest expanse allowed for an adaptation that enabled the Aeir to survive in this untamed environment.

At the heart of this development stood the Vataam—a kind of tree held in the highest reverence by the primordial Aeir. This is evident even in the ancient aeiric word Vataam itself, which derives from Va for blessing and Taam for tree. Unlike most vegetation that took root in Xaal, the Vataam displayed an unusual generosity. Its fruits, often abundant, seedless, and mostly filled with sweet flesh, ripened with tireless regularity, providing a reliable source of nourishment. Yet, it was not only its gifts of sustenance that made it invaluable: from the tree’s cracked bark oozed a resin in copious amounts, which, when skillfully processed, became a material of extraordinary durability. This resin served the Aeir as the foundation for the spears and arrowheads of their hunters, ornaments and relics for their chieftains, and even as a building material for their dwellings. The Vataam, more enduring than most things in the harsh wilderness of Xaal, was what made the Aeir settle.

Around the mightiest Vataam, the Aeir constructed intricate wooden structures, intertwined with resin and foliage, which coiled like living vines around the gigantic trunks. The freshly exuded resin, gleaming in the cracks of the bark, emitted a soft, protective glow at night, keeping predators and creatures at bay. Though the true nature of these miraculous trees remained a mystery to the early, nameless Aeir, they tended to them with devotion as if they were sacred beings. And many who lived beneath the Vataam’s protective canopy soon began to believe that this tree was no ordinary plant but a mighty entity—one that seemed to favor the Aeir with benevolence.

The Vataam was, in fact, supernatural. As offshoots rooted in the deepest and oldest network of Xaal, they harbored an indefinable force capable of influencing the thoughts and actions of the Aeir. Over time, many Aeir groups rarely left their chosen Vataam of their own accord. It was hardly surprising, then, that the Vataam became the foundation of the ancient Aeir culture—the center of their spirituality and the catalyst for a transformation whose magnitude this young race could not yet comprehend.

The bodies and abilities of the Aeir underwent significant changes under the influence of the Vataam. The nature of these transformations always depended on the specific Vataam, for no two trees were alike. With each generation, the connection between the Aeir and their Vataam deepened—unconsciously, yet with unstoppable consequence. Both their external appearance and their inner essence began to change. From the heads of their offspring sprouted antlers, whose structure and color mirrored the bark of their respective Vataam. These antlers heightened their receptivity to the tree’s influence, so that their thoughts and actions were no longer guided solely by their own will but increasingly by that of the Vataam.

Furthermore, later generations of Aeir developed two additional eyelids that they could voluntarily retract or extend. These granted them the ability to perceive Echo—the immaterial force of this world. A unique form of perception possessed by scarcely any other race. This ability, combined with the ever-deepening symbiosis between the Aeir and their Vataam, made them something new—beings who walked between the worlds of the visible and the invisible. Through this symbiotic bond, the Aeir also gained a variety of abilities that humans would later categorize as magic. Yet, this was an ancient and formidable magic, rooted in their acquired sensitivity to Echo.

Under their Vataam, the Aeir evolved into instruments of Xaal’s primordial power. What is understood today as civilization—cities, writing, complex cultures, or social structures—remained alien to them. The power of the Vataam shaped the Aeir into guardians of a world meant to remain in its original state: an eternal stagnation, wild and untamed, ruled by Xaal and forever sheltered beneath the shadow of its colossal canopies.