Curiosities

Passed down, at least in theory, over the millennia by members of the Sadwaid Dynasty, the ring born by the mayiz S'adwa I—a simple band of red iron—is said to have been able to summon and control the spirits of the wind and sand, who in turn could be put to work in his service. Since that time, the original ring may well have been lost and replaced with another, or it may have stopped working, or may never have worked…what is known is that no mayiz has summoned spirits for apparently near on half a millennium.

For a time, Osāyo was united by men and women who called themselves imei, "dragons". It became the word for "emperor" in the Hākan language, against which the modern shindu or "prince" is juxtaposed. Records from conquered peoples are contradictory; some speak of ghosts in serpentine form bringing plague, others speak of poison gases, others still describe the air itself turning to reptilian form and consuming the living. It is possible this is simply an extended metaphor for the outbreak of weeping skin that preceded the Dragons' conquests. Certainly there are no giant flying serpents in the employ of modern Osāyo.

According to legend, the sorceror-king Bhimu constructed the Palace of a Thousand Suns on the island of Jhupra some four thousand years before the present day. The palace was said to have been made of rays of sun gathered from a thousand days, creating a vast structure of a substance more pure than anything on the earth. And certainly less substantial; there are no ruins of any such palace across Jhupra, and despite housing 3.1 million people there is plenty of jungle in which to house such ruins.

Humans have an incredible knack for bonding with other animals. A surprising number of people from all walks of life find incredibly loyal friends in these animals. And sometimes there are stories of bonds which go beyond the regular, but there are few who haven't seen more than was there in the body language of their pets. Association of such bonds with witchcraft is an unnecessary extrapolation.

Across the Trithalassic from Einir to Ialkadai people have long believed in a realm which the Phaeroi call Iktara, the realm of the dead. Sometimes underground, sometimes in the mists, sometimes accessible from specific islands, the spirits who reside there are quiet and lost, seeking a means to return to the world of the living…and held at bay by something horribly powerful. It was said of old that by giving them a libation of blood, one can grant them more solid form for a time, to hear their words of wisdom and bring them clarity. Of course, cultures across the world have beliefs about the dead, and it is only natural to hear echoes in the wind; humans are good at recognizing patterns even when there are none there.

The gauśu or gaushu is a creature said to haunt the ruins of the ancient city of Veghoti, and the cattle-grounds nearby. Herders of dhai-beasts refuse to travel to those areas, as it is too often they find their beasts drained from the body and neck…and, sometimes, their family as well. And they speak of a beast, half-human, half-dhai, that screams in the night near the labyrinthine corridors of a city abandoned nearly two thousand years ago. Predators from the region do attack dhai, this should be noted, particularly the tall sariamas who live on the sparse grasslands of the Vernan plains; it is rare that they attack humans, but not unheard-of.

Along the southwestern coast of Mocueyoh are practitioners who claim a special connection with a particular deity or spirit. Locally they are called myaiko, something like "the engodded ones". A myaiko acts as prophet and sorceror for the village or region, and may also make slaves of the dead. (The latter, at least, has some scientific basis via a potent paralytic.) Myaiko claim on average to be centuries old, despite the "outward appearance" changing substantially over that time, and become forgetful of their previous lives once chosen; presumably this is a continuation of the ritual surrounding this prestigious position.

The tjéyin are spirits residing in the heart of the Barranur, or so say the Yemuk, a tribe which lives in the region. They are the echoes of the past and future, ancestors and descendants; they are harmless, if sometimes mercurial, and whisper strange words in the wind, particularly near holy sites. It is more logical that the holy sites are extrapolated to contain more spirits than other locales, and that sounds in the air can be mistaken for voices, just like with the spirits of Iktara in Oma. That other tribes of the Barranur, like the Brunaki, Arrakaye, Quaanarri, Tjung, and Irrukur, profess similar beliefs speaks to a desert-wide cultural continuum, a much more fascinating area of study than mere wind-spirits.

To the Malehinese, emotionally-vivid parts of life are considered to be different spirits, shaping the world around them. And one of the most prominent is Toanni, or Towhane, or Nokae—it is the spirit of the Journey itself, a call to wanderlust and exploration. And for the people of the islands, it was less of a yearning and more a driving force, with a consciousness of its own and a desire to compel others to follow its story. A truly remarkable piece of common mythology.

According to legend, the diakos is not a single being—more like a ghost, or a dybbuk, that seeks out lost souls and offers them transformation and power in exchange for the flesh of the living. Many stories in Phaeroian culture claim this to be a form of immortality, with the caveat that the diakos will eventually absorb the soul of the host and the body will disintegrate. Stories of chimeras have abounded worldwide since ancient times, and like as not the diakos is a metaphor for something a little closer to home—feral children, perhaps, or a local form of schizophrenia, or even raiders from the mountains in the skins of lopers.

The Qariyyu of Yashdar have a particular bugaboo they like to pull out every so often, when it seems as though people are getting too restless. They claim infiltrators in their society from a people called the Kakhmayyid, whose faces and bodies are molten and can be reshaped according to the will of the person in question—or else fused with those of others of their kind in a twising chimera of waxen flesh. The utter terror this brings to the population, and the subsequent persecution of differences in culture or mental state, needs no explanation save human in-group tendencies and paranoia over the unknown, despite the apparent presence of this myth in Yashdar since the time of the semi-nomadic Kagamahid in Al-Ussaf around 2,000 years ago.