Sherwood
Luna's Concubine
Kamak
A funicular as large as an apartment block hums softly as it descends a precipitous eighty-degree slope of ice-crusted brass and steel. Its cloaked Populat passengers sit in warm, comfortable booths, lowering their muffling scarves to sip from mugs of hot kaff as they peer out through the funicular’s broad, tinted windows. Outside, beams of light leap from the funicular’s lamps to illuminate the veils of snow falling from above. Blue flashes flicker distantly, their source hidden in the icy mists—lightning, perhaps, or a firefight with Estasian raiders.
Of all the Eight Nations, Kamak may fall farthest from the norm. Its orbit through the Reaches is the most eccentric, taking it into the coldest zones of the Pole of Metal; this also gives it access to the largest deposits of the magical materials outside of Xexas and Loran, making it the richest nation in the Octet. The Kamaki are a people of extremes, ruled by their code of privacy in public, while privately obsessed with family and romantic love. They are an uncouth enigma to the other nations, isolated by wealth and pride. But they cannot survive alone. Kamak must come to terms with the changing world or fall with it.
LAYOUT AND LANDSCAPE
Where other nations are comprised of rounded or tubular chambers that run parallel or perpendicular to gravity, Kamak’s chambers are both unusually shaped and laid at odd angles, like a fistful of three-dimensional puzzle pieces tossed into a jumbled heap. Shapes range from regular polyhedra to kinked and twisted tubes to amorphous, irregular spaces. Sizes likewise vary, with shafts fifty miles long situated alongside cysts less than a mile in diameter. Their conjunctions often lead to mild temblors. Flat horizontal surfaces rarely occur naturally in Kamak. Most of those which exist have been engineered into that shape over the millennia. Some of the nation’s settlements stand atop slick metal summits or saddle-back ridges; others cling to narrow ledges or jut out from escarpments. Still others are spread across multiple ledges or outcroppings, connected by swaying metal bridges. But most lie embedded within the nation’s walls: networks of corridors and chambers built of concrete and steel, tucked away from the cold and the winds and the stark cliffs and chasms.
Sophisticated trams and funicular lines run across the icy slopes and through miles of illuminated tunnels, steam rising from their heated tracks. Obelisks of red jade three meters tall, their surfaces inlaid with convoluted thaumaturgical sigils of orichalcum, hover above settlements and stopping points, emitting zones of warmth to stave off the encircling cold.
WEATHER
Kamak is the coldest of the Eight Nations. Its course through the Reaches takes it through areas whose temperature often drops well below freezing. When combined with water vapor ejected from steam conduits, this makes it the only nation whose larger chambers are subject to snowfall. Unlike Creation, Kamak has no regular seasonal cycle. Temperatures change erratically as the nation moves through the body of the Machine God. Nonetheless, its people divide its climactic variations into three seasons. “Warm season” encompasses those times when the temperature is above freezing. Sometimes these periods are actually warm, or even hot, but they never last for more than a few months. “Snow season” encompasses times when the air is cold and dry; breath steams in the air, while frost crackles on metal and glass. Worst is “ice season,” when rime and freezing rain encrust every exposed surface with ice. In settled areas and along thoroughfares, red jade obelisks and steam conduits are employed to alleviate the worst of the cold. Surfaces that need to be kept free of ice—such as tram tracks, walkways, stairs, ladder rungs, door frames, and the like—are typically warmed with an Essence-charged mesh of red jade alloy embedded in a layer of corrugated artificial rubber.
AN ICY FACADE
Kamaki architecture is plain and subdued. Metal and concrete are left bare or painted in muted grays and blues. Structures go unadorned except for essential informational glyphs and simple, understated architectural motifs—stylized gears, huge bronze masks depicting the austere, emotionless visage of the Maker, and the like. The propaganda posters and murals found in other nations are conspicuously absent.
Only the ubiquitous red jade obelisks splash the scene with color. There are exceptions, such as grandiose administrative buildings and ostentatiously ornamented Sodality chapterhouses. But most Kamaki facades convey little and conceal much.
The same applies to the public face of the Kamaki people themselves. In public spaces, they wear dark, heavy garments even in the rare spates of warm weather. Sleeves are worn long enough to cover the wearer’s gloved hands; hats are large and shapeless, covering most of the traditional Kamaki hair-braids. Collars are trimmed with fur; boots are massive, with detachable cleats for icy weather. Most importantly, the lower part of the face is always hidden behind a voluminous scarf or half-mask, exposing only the eyes and soulgem.
INNER WARMTH
Entering a Kamaki dormitory commune is like going from night into day. The interior of a commune is a warm, brightly lit place, painted in vivid colors not to be seen outdoors. Furniture is ornate; floors are covered with plush carpet or elaborate parquet tile; walls are hung with jewel-toned reproductions of great paintings and murals from across the Octet. The Kamaki are as open in private as they are withdrawn in public. At home or in the workplace, away from inquisitive eyes, they can show their faces, smile and laugh, consume intoxicants and play games. Their personal space contracts markedly in private, permitting easy, intimate contact among co-workers, friends, neighbors and family. Indoor clothing is lighter and more brightly colored, marked with intricate patterns and precious metal embroidery.
RULES OF HOSPITALITY
Hospitality is vitally important in Kamak. Other than Sova, this is the only nation where travelers risk death from exposure. As a result, a citizen may sometimes have to admit a stranger to her home to save their life. The Kamaki have evolved elaborate social customs over the millennia to deal with such situations. Any guest in the home is escorted first to the hearthgem—a fist-sized mass of red jade set into the base of a wall niche, its flat upper surface radiating as much heat as a small fire. The guest is offered food and drink, an overture which is rude to decline. The meal is then warmed atop the hearthgem. Only after it has been served can any sort of business proceed.
Petitioning someone for hospitality is distinctly uncomfortable for many Kamaki. No matter the need, intruding on another’s private space—or having another intrude upon it—goes against the grain of their upbringing and culture. “Vethem’s Solace,” a classic song in the lector’s repertoire, narrates a traveler’s death as she, unwilling to trouble the strangers who live in an unfamiliar commune, succumbs to the elements just outside the commune’s door.
Of course, not everyone is thus troubled. Invoking the hospitality rule to maliciously intrude on a stranger’s—or enemy’s—privacy is a crime punishable by ostracism among the Lumpen.
THE ARTS
Singing and chanting are the most common sorts of Kamaki music, but instruments are used on occasion. Drums are beaten outdoors to keep time in work groups; though audible at long distance, the sound is pitched low enough not to be intrusive. Indoors or in communal courtyards, stringed instruments may be played softly. Storytelling and music are slow, sonorous and utterly formalized. Many tales and songs have remained unchanged across thousands of years. This has anchored their discourse against change, making the Kamaki dialect sound archaic and stilted to other Autochthonians, closer to Old Realm. Dancing is only performed indoors and in communal courtyards. Certain traditional dances are performed solely between husband and wife, and they are passed down to one’s children. Those who do not master the dances in childhood can ask for training from their lectors.
MARRIAGE
Personal relationships are lauded in Kamak in a manner alien to most of the other nations. Marriage—between members of the same or opposite genders—is a sacred union, said to mirror the relationship and love between mortals and the Great Maker. Wedding vows have the support of law; spouses can easily and effectively petition to share an apartment, and their superiors cannot reassign them to different locales or schedule them for incompatible work shifts. Marriage is a deeply personal bond, but it is a part of public life. Wedding vows are traditionally performed in the couple’s shared commune courtyard in front of their combined social circles. Afterwards, each spouse is tattooed upon the temple—a spot that’s always visible, even when dressed for outdoors—with an elaborate double knot symbolizing their relationship.
All citizens are expected to marry at some point in their lives. To be unwed past the age of thirty suggests a flaw in one’s character; unwed citizens face a glass ceiling, and all high-ranking individuals are married or widowed. For unmarried citizens, celibacy is less dishonorable than serial monogamy, and cheating on an unwed partner results in becoming a social outcast. Adultery is punishable by exile, while divorce is forbidden. Citizens in unhappy marriages receive counseling from their lectors. It’s not uncommon for a bereaved spouse to remarry after a year of mourning. Champions are not obligated to marry as mortals do.
This does not prevent them from trying. Occasionally an Alchemical marries a mortal, only to watch him or her wither with age over the decades. Still, there’s much to be said for the benefits of such a love. Marriages between two Alchemicals have traditionally gone far more poorly. There are few things more painful to a Champion than for one’s spouse to succumb to Clarity. Kamak takes an extremely dim view of false wedding vows taken just because workers don’t want to be relocated or reassigned. The couple to be wed must provide evidence of their union to the officiating lector. A child conceived by opposite-sex spouses constitutes automatic proof of commitment. Same-sex couples lack this option for obvious reasons. (Marriage has little impact on Kamaki child-rearing practices; offspring are raised in communal crèches as normal.)
Foreigners rarely understand the significance of Kamaki marriage. Most see it as a decadent practice, one both absurd and grotesque, in which individuals put their personal interests ahead of the needs of the state and the Machine God.
The two nearest neighbors to Kamak are the nations of Estasia and Yugash. Relations between Kamak and Yugash are excellent, and pneumatic trains full of goods and supplies are frequently sent out of Ein and other Kamaki cities to the struggling nation. Tensions are high between Estasia and Kamak, however. The militant forces of Estasia have made several incursions into Kamaki space, raiding supplies and taking hostages. It is only due to the wealth of Kamak granting the construction of many of the Maker’s Champions that have kept Estasia from mounting a full scale invasion of both Yugash and Kamak.
Sova, one of the farther nations from Kamak, is recovering from a brutal war with Yugash that has ended just ten years ago, and Kamak’s aid to their former enemy does not sit well.
Claslat, the largest and most powerful of the Eight Nations, is far enough away from Kamak that any contact with that nation is rare. Relations with Claslat are cordial.
Gulak is the farthest nation from Kamak at the moment, and as such, there is hardly any contact with the people or Champions of this country.
Jarish is the most religiously devout country in all of Autochthon, and they consider any nation that does not share their level of belief to be heretics that deserve to be struck down by the Maker. The only thing keeping the country of Jarish from full warfare is their lack of resources to be able to field an army.
Nurad is a nation on the brink of the Void, and all the neighboring nations are watching this country as a possible future of all the Eight Nations of Autochthon. Unless something drastic happens for this troubled nation, its people and great cities are doomed.
A funicular as large as an apartment block hums softly as it descends a precipitous eighty-degree slope of ice-crusted brass and steel. Its cloaked Populat passengers sit in warm, comfortable booths, lowering their muffling scarves to sip from mugs of hot kaff as they peer out through the funicular’s broad, tinted windows. Outside, beams of light leap from the funicular’s lamps to illuminate the veils of snow falling from above. Blue flashes flicker distantly, their source hidden in the icy mists—lightning, perhaps, or a firefight with Estasian raiders.
Of all the Eight Nations, Kamak may fall farthest from the norm. Its orbit through the Reaches is the most eccentric, taking it into the coldest zones of the Pole of Metal; this also gives it access to the largest deposits of the magical materials outside of Xexas and Loran, making it the richest nation in the Octet. The Kamaki are a people of extremes, ruled by their code of privacy in public, while privately obsessed with family and romantic love. They are an uncouth enigma to the other nations, isolated by wealth and pride. But they cannot survive alone. Kamak must come to terms with the changing world or fall with it.
LAYOUT AND LANDSCAPE
Where other nations are comprised of rounded or tubular chambers that run parallel or perpendicular to gravity, Kamak’s chambers are both unusually shaped and laid at odd angles, like a fistful of three-dimensional puzzle pieces tossed into a jumbled heap. Shapes range from regular polyhedra to kinked and twisted tubes to amorphous, irregular spaces. Sizes likewise vary, with shafts fifty miles long situated alongside cysts less than a mile in diameter. Their conjunctions often lead to mild temblors. Flat horizontal surfaces rarely occur naturally in Kamak. Most of those which exist have been engineered into that shape over the millennia. Some of the nation’s settlements stand atop slick metal summits or saddle-back ridges; others cling to narrow ledges or jut out from escarpments. Still others are spread across multiple ledges or outcroppings, connected by swaying metal bridges. But most lie embedded within the nation’s walls: networks of corridors and chambers built of concrete and steel, tucked away from the cold and the winds and the stark cliffs and chasms.
Sophisticated trams and funicular lines run across the icy slopes and through miles of illuminated tunnels, steam rising from their heated tracks. Obelisks of red jade three meters tall, their surfaces inlaid with convoluted thaumaturgical sigils of orichalcum, hover above settlements and stopping points, emitting zones of warmth to stave off the encircling cold.
WEATHER
Kamak is the coldest of the Eight Nations. Its course through the Reaches takes it through areas whose temperature often drops well below freezing. When combined with water vapor ejected from steam conduits, this makes it the only nation whose larger chambers are subject to snowfall. Unlike Creation, Kamak has no regular seasonal cycle. Temperatures change erratically as the nation moves through the body of the Machine God. Nonetheless, its people divide its climactic variations into three seasons. “Warm season” encompasses those times when the temperature is above freezing. Sometimes these periods are actually warm, or even hot, but they never last for more than a few months. “Snow season” encompasses times when the air is cold and dry; breath steams in the air, while frost crackles on metal and glass. Worst is “ice season,” when rime and freezing rain encrust every exposed surface with ice. In settled areas and along thoroughfares, red jade obelisks and steam conduits are employed to alleviate the worst of the cold. Surfaces that need to be kept free of ice—such as tram tracks, walkways, stairs, ladder rungs, door frames, and the like—are typically warmed with an Essence-charged mesh of red jade alloy embedded in a layer of corrugated artificial rubber.
AN ICY FACADE
Kamaki architecture is plain and subdued. Metal and concrete are left bare or painted in muted grays and blues. Structures go unadorned except for essential informational glyphs and simple, understated architectural motifs—stylized gears, huge bronze masks depicting the austere, emotionless visage of the Maker, and the like. The propaganda posters and murals found in other nations are conspicuously absent.
Only the ubiquitous red jade obelisks splash the scene with color. There are exceptions, such as grandiose administrative buildings and ostentatiously ornamented Sodality chapterhouses. But most Kamaki facades convey little and conceal much.
The same applies to the public face of the Kamaki people themselves. In public spaces, they wear dark, heavy garments even in the rare spates of warm weather. Sleeves are worn long enough to cover the wearer’s gloved hands; hats are large and shapeless, covering most of the traditional Kamaki hair-braids. Collars are trimmed with fur; boots are massive, with detachable cleats for icy weather. Most importantly, the lower part of the face is always hidden behind a voluminous scarf or half-mask, exposing only the eyes and soulgem.
INNER WARMTH
Entering a Kamaki dormitory commune is like going from night into day. The interior of a commune is a warm, brightly lit place, painted in vivid colors not to be seen outdoors. Furniture is ornate; floors are covered with plush carpet or elaborate parquet tile; walls are hung with jewel-toned reproductions of great paintings and murals from across the Octet. The Kamaki are as open in private as they are withdrawn in public. At home or in the workplace, away from inquisitive eyes, they can show their faces, smile and laugh, consume intoxicants and play games. Their personal space contracts markedly in private, permitting easy, intimate contact among co-workers, friends, neighbors and family. Indoor clothing is lighter and more brightly colored, marked with intricate patterns and precious metal embroidery.
RULES OF HOSPITALITY
Hospitality is vitally important in Kamak. Other than Sova, this is the only nation where travelers risk death from exposure. As a result, a citizen may sometimes have to admit a stranger to her home to save their life. The Kamaki have evolved elaborate social customs over the millennia to deal with such situations. Any guest in the home is escorted first to the hearthgem—a fist-sized mass of red jade set into the base of a wall niche, its flat upper surface radiating as much heat as a small fire. The guest is offered food and drink, an overture which is rude to decline. The meal is then warmed atop the hearthgem. Only after it has been served can any sort of business proceed.
Petitioning someone for hospitality is distinctly uncomfortable for many Kamaki. No matter the need, intruding on another’s private space—or having another intrude upon it—goes against the grain of their upbringing and culture. “Vethem’s Solace,” a classic song in the lector’s repertoire, narrates a traveler’s death as she, unwilling to trouble the strangers who live in an unfamiliar commune, succumbs to the elements just outside the commune’s door.
Of course, not everyone is thus troubled. Invoking the hospitality rule to maliciously intrude on a stranger’s—or enemy’s—privacy is a crime punishable by ostracism among the Lumpen.
THE ARTS
Singing and chanting are the most common sorts of Kamaki music, but instruments are used on occasion. Drums are beaten outdoors to keep time in work groups; though audible at long distance, the sound is pitched low enough not to be intrusive. Indoors or in communal courtyards, stringed instruments may be played softly. Storytelling and music are slow, sonorous and utterly formalized. Many tales and songs have remained unchanged across thousands of years. This has anchored their discourse against change, making the Kamaki dialect sound archaic and stilted to other Autochthonians, closer to Old Realm. Dancing is only performed indoors and in communal courtyards. Certain traditional dances are performed solely between husband and wife, and they are passed down to one’s children. Those who do not master the dances in childhood can ask for training from their lectors.
MARRIAGE
Personal relationships are lauded in Kamak in a manner alien to most of the other nations. Marriage—between members of the same or opposite genders—is a sacred union, said to mirror the relationship and love between mortals and the Great Maker. Wedding vows have the support of law; spouses can easily and effectively petition to share an apartment, and their superiors cannot reassign them to different locales or schedule them for incompatible work shifts. Marriage is a deeply personal bond, but it is a part of public life. Wedding vows are traditionally performed in the couple’s shared commune courtyard in front of their combined social circles. Afterwards, each spouse is tattooed upon the temple—a spot that’s always visible, even when dressed for outdoors—with an elaborate double knot symbolizing their relationship.
All citizens are expected to marry at some point in their lives. To be unwed past the age of thirty suggests a flaw in one’s character; unwed citizens face a glass ceiling, and all high-ranking individuals are married or widowed. For unmarried citizens, celibacy is less dishonorable than serial monogamy, and cheating on an unwed partner results in becoming a social outcast. Adultery is punishable by exile, while divorce is forbidden. Citizens in unhappy marriages receive counseling from their lectors. It’s not uncommon for a bereaved spouse to remarry after a year of mourning. Champions are not obligated to marry as mortals do.
This does not prevent them from trying. Occasionally an Alchemical marries a mortal, only to watch him or her wither with age over the decades. Still, there’s much to be said for the benefits of such a love. Marriages between two Alchemicals have traditionally gone far more poorly. There are few things more painful to a Champion than for one’s spouse to succumb to Clarity. Kamak takes an extremely dim view of false wedding vows taken just because workers don’t want to be relocated or reassigned. The couple to be wed must provide evidence of their union to the officiating lector. A child conceived by opposite-sex spouses constitutes automatic proof of commitment. Same-sex couples lack this option for obvious reasons. (Marriage has little impact on Kamaki child-rearing practices; offspring are raised in communal crèches as normal.)
Foreigners rarely understand the significance of Kamaki marriage. Most see it as a decadent practice, one both absurd and grotesque, in which individuals put their personal interests ahead of the needs of the state and the Machine God.
The two nearest neighbors to Kamak are the nations of Estasia and Yugash. Relations between Kamak and Yugash are excellent, and pneumatic trains full of goods and supplies are frequently sent out of Ein and other Kamaki cities to the struggling nation. Tensions are high between Estasia and Kamak, however. The militant forces of Estasia have made several incursions into Kamaki space, raiding supplies and taking hostages. It is only due to the wealth of Kamak granting the construction of many of the Maker’s Champions that have kept Estasia from mounting a full scale invasion of both Yugash and Kamak.
Sova, one of the farther nations from Kamak, is recovering from a brutal war with Yugash that has ended just ten years ago, and Kamak’s aid to their former enemy does not sit well.
Claslat, the largest and most powerful of the Eight Nations, is far enough away from Kamak that any contact with that nation is rare. Relations with Claslat are cordial.
Gulak is the farthest nation from Kamak at the moment, and as such, there is hardly any contact with the people or Champions of this country.
Jarish is the most religiously devout country in all of Autochthon, and they consider any nation that does not share their level of belief to be heretics that deserve to be struck down by the Maker. The only thing keeping the country of Jarish from full warfare is their lack of resources to be able to field an army.
Nurad is a nation on the brink of the Void, and all the neighboring nations are watching this country as a possible future of all the Eight Nations of Autochthon. Unless something drastic happens for this troubled nation, its people and great cities are doomed.