A Firm Lineage
Saint Drang was the first Voice of the Cult of Aygir, and the first king of Orisaarland. For countless generations, his descendants have borne heirs in an unbroken line. Each heir has kept Hútanassë, his elven greatsword, and occasionally even carried it into battle. How the Orit sire came by an elven blade is a subject of fairy tales, and is much speculated on. Orit
tend to be short in stature but tall in nobility. As long as history is
recorded there has been a king in these islands. They do not war needlessly with other kingdoms, but they never shrink from a fight.
Titanic Traditions
Most families dedicate a room of the family home to the preservation and display of ancestral skulls. These are usually preserved and decorated with clay and paints to restore a lifelike appearance and arrayed in honor of their greatest exploits. Sea captains may sit on a plinth with a compass, for example.
Especially old and wealthy families preserve the entire bodies in this way, and the rooms can be quite large (or at least, large compared to rooms typically occupied by living Orit). Many use these rooms for the channeling (and occasionally, possession) of ancestral spirits. The Cult of Aygir offers a service that 'resurrects' the spirit to facilitate this practice.
The Knights of Orisaar charge into battle exclusively on foot, and are deadly in close quarters. They have a cultural dislike of the bow, the sling, and the spear. As a result of their close cohabitation and small island life, Orit stand very close to whom they are speaking, and prefer to speak quietly and politely. In combat, they comport themselves much the same.
Dinosaur Maritime Economy
Orit carriages, wagons, and barges are pulled by huge, duck-billed lizard creatures known as Hadrus. Small islands individually have limited resources, so the Orit developed intricate trading networks with neighboring islands to obtain necessary goods. Single-hadrus barges form the backbone of Orisaar commerce, but these are vulnerable to piracy. This goes some way to explain their cultural hatred for pirates. These beasts are exceptionally common in the Alchemy Bay, where they graze
Barge drivers with a Hadrus
that's no longer good for labor have different ways of disposing of
them. Poorer classes tend to knacker them for food and glue, or sell
them to Pollies
or fishermen, who use them for chum. The richer classes like to donate
theirs to the military for 'training'. The highly religious will tend to
sacrifice them to Aygir as a burnt offering.
The navy's
fierce anti-pirate work has enabled them to harvest sugar in Midvale, which Orisaarland turns to rum. The rum is sent to Kurzmarch Ford, in order to import much-coveted spices and the finest paper. The main strength of The Orisaar Royal Navy is the mighty Wavetreader, a Hadrus-powered flat-bottomed boat that can field war machines and traverse the famously windless Swabbie Sea at great speeds. Certain types of specially equipped cargo Wavetreader can even navigate the Fum Alnahr.
Of course, the general lack of lumber on the small Sunsteda Bay Islands has necessitated a permanent outpost at Rantaan, which is strategically vital and well defended. Captains of Orisaar are known for two things: a love of strong drink and a hatred of pirates. They've won much honor by keeping the Swabbie Sea pirate-free
and by distilling the most potent spirits in the land.
Gossipy Hardliners
Every Orit child longs to join a Danshópar, gaining renown and status through their fleet-footed feats. Yet when push comes to shove, few choose to Rassláttur in formal, high-stakes competitions. Many practice their steps in private, keeping their skills hidden until the moment they must defend their good name in the time-honored tradition of pikkslag. In Orisaar, this ceremonial dance is as essential as the sea itself. An art passed from generation to generation, honed through a lifetime of secret training. Those who disrespect them soon learn the folly of their words in an elaborately graceful spectacle of redemption.
On the cramped confines of the Sunsteda Bay Islands, privacy is a rare luxury. Doors stand unlocked, yet gossip spreads like wildfire through their tight-knit villages. Everyone keeps a hawk's eye on the comings and goings of neighbors and travelers. For better or worse, everyone knows their place within the community. This clannishness has its costs. Those who dare swim against the social tide soon find themselves ostracized. Nonconformists and rabble-rousers often self-exile to the freedom of the open waters, eking out lonely livings as fishermen or barge drivers. Their independence earns them a lasting stigma. Although every island has a thrifty trade in idle gossip, Orit take outright slander very seriously; simply being insulted or sworn at legally entitles bloody vengeance under Orisaar law*. Orit keep a very civil tongue while discussing others' personal lives, but they pull no punches on the dance floor. This explains why pikkslag is so central to their way of life.
*The best a slanderer can usually hope for is to be made an
outlaw. Even assassinations are legally protected retribution for
slander. The only cases where retribution has limits is in cases of
arson or vengeance extending to innocent friends and family-members.
The Fish Games
On the beaches of Sunsteda Bay, a curious pastime holds sway. Orit children and adult hobbyists scour the sands for scuttling crabs, capturing the creatures to decorate their shells in vibrant designs. Then the real fun begins. They crowd around crude racetracks to spur their crustacean champions on to glory in the time-honored tradition of Fiskestíl, which include racing, obstacle courses, and the occasional crab brawl. These fast-paced games draw rowdy crowds from across the waters. Competitors carefully select champions from among the island's various large and medium sized crabs. Purple pinchers and red reef runners are especially prized for their speed. Crabs are placed at the starting line, painted shells glittering, before scrambling down hazardous courses strewn with small obstacles. Decorating the crabs with paints, beads, fake eyes, pennants, and even small wigs is common, as there are prizes for best decorated crab. Sometimes the winner is made into a town mascot, or commemorated in a pub sign. To spur them on, players wave tin noisemakers from either side of the track. Skilled competitors feed their crabs on a special diet of herbs, squid, and secret elixirs, and even train them. Races frequently end in pile-ups at corners or crab battles mid-course. Spectators roar with approval at unexpected brawls. It is not unheard of for brawls to break out among the crowd as a result.
In its darker past, nobles originally used polyvalve slaves in this cruel spectacle. Countless Pollies perished attempting to evade traps and fighting for their lives. The games were banned entirely after slave revolts from around RP 45 to RP 51. Today, they've returned as a mostly family-friendly pastime, but bitterness remains in some polyvalve communities. One year's national finals were disrupted when Pollies kidnapped the crab finalists and threw them from the Úpstytta.
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