Erali - Human Ethnicity
"The Erali build cities not to stand against time, but to defy it. Their stones are laid in defiance of the tide, their mosaics crafted to outshine the sun, their voices raised in festival long after the harvest is gone. Yet even in their grandeur, there is a knowing: that the sea will erode, the wind will scatter, and the world will forget unless they tell their stories again and again."
"I have walked the marble colonnades of Cienne, where traders argue beneath carved friezes of gods and heroes. I have shared olives and honey under the moon in Faela, where ancestors watch from carved totems and songs rise from golden fields. I have seen the battle-flags of Istana's storm riders, their lances gleaming like lightning over the plains. And in Carthia. Ah, Carthia. There is grandeur beyond words, but also a weight, a shadow where faith and law are bound so tight you can scarce breathe."
"To be Eralic is to live within contradiction: to cherish family yet argue with kin, to build lasting beauty yet tear down old walls, to worship the Taro gods with song and scepticism both. They are a people of many faces, but all turned toward the future, their hands ready to shape it. Whether into glory, or ruin."
Introduction
The Eralic peoples are the architects of Erala's heartlands: city-founders, traders, poets, and warriors whose influence echoes from the coasts of Cienne to the hills of Istana, from the harvest fields of Faela to the marble courts of Rosena, from the river towns of Dranar to the palatial sanctuaries of Carthia. Yet to speak of the Erali as one people is to oversimplify a tapestry woven from countless threads. They are defined not by a single tradition or creed, but by a restless synthesis of faith, ambition, and memory. They are builders of mosaics both literal and cultural, whose patterns shift with every generation yet retain a familiar rhythm beneath the surface.
Bound loosely by the Taro Pantheon, the Erali are a people of public shrines and private altars, of civic festivals and household rites. The gods watch over harvests, seas, storms, and laws. Their devotion is a conversation rather than a commandment: gods are honoured, but not always obeyed; tradition is preserved, but also debated; the past is revered, yet questioned. The Taro Pantheon is not a cage, but a loom upon which the Erali weave new stories with old threads.
Diversity is the Eralic hallmark. A Roseni merchant-prince and a Faelan shepherd may share ancestry, yet their lives diverge wildly: one composes contracts in marble halls, the other sings to the wheat under stars. A Cienne sailor swears by Pandera's winds, while an Istani war-leader raises a storm-banner and rides to battle beneath Varuko's eye. In Carthia, where the Church of Taro casts a longer shadow, faith becomes law, and doctrine shapes daily life. But even here, beneath the incense and chants, the Eralic spirit of debate and ambition stirs like a restless sea.
The Erali have built empires, brokered peace, betrayed alliances, and survived calamities both natural and self-made. They are as quick to quarrel as they are to feast, as prone to grudge as to laughter. Their hands are calloused from labour and their tongues sharp from argument. Yet it is this very complexity that has allowed the Erali to endure. This refusal to conform to a single shape has made them resilient. They are a people of contradiction and consequence, whose legacy is not fixed in stone, but etched in story, song, and the ever-turning wheel of change.
"They walk the markets like kings, even when they sell fish. They argue with a smile and strike bargains between sips of wine. Their clothes speak louder than their tongues, and their eyes—dark as olives or pale as sea-foam—watch the world as if it were a game they might win, if only they play long enough."
Appearance and Lifestyle
The Eralic peoples, scattered across the diverse realms of Erala, are a study in subtle contrasts and regional nuance. Their appearance bears the marks of centuries of coastal sun, inland wind, and mountain shadow: skin tones range from sun-warmed bronze in the fields of Faela and the markets of Rosena, to lighter olive hues along the Carthian coast and the marble plazas of Cienne. In Dranar and the far reaches of Istana, where the mountains brood over the plains, a ruddier, weathered complexion is common—etched with the lines of wind and time. Hair is predominantly dark, black to deep brown, though lighter shades, from auburn to chestnut, appear in northern Cienne and Istana. Hair texture varies from loose waves to tight curls, and grooming is often a point of pride: intricate braids in Faela, oiled curls in Rosena, close-cropped beards in Carthia, and wind-swept locks left untamed in Istana.
Their eyes, too, reflect the diversity of their homelands: rich browns and amber golds are common, though shades of grey and green emerge in northern Cienne and among the old noble houses of Carthia, where claims of "sea-glass blood" are whispered. Jewellery—rings, earrings, and amulets—abound across all Eralic regions, though styles vary: Faelan farmers favour simple bronze charms tied with leather; Roseni merchants flaunt inlaid lapis and polished coral; Istani warriors display braided hairpins bearing carved storm-motifs.
The Erali are a physically expressive people. Gestures punctuate speech, posture conveys status, and touch conveys meaning. On shoulder, hand, or back, touch is a casual language of its own. Their height varies: from the shorter, wiry traders of Cienne's crowded ports to the taller, broad-shouldered cavalrymen of Istana. The average Erali stands between 1.6 and 1.8 metres, with a build shaped more by work and climate than by ethnicity itself. Farmers in Faela tend towards lean strength; Roseni artisans cultivate soft hands but quick tongues; Carthian priests carry themselves with ceremonial stillness, while Istani riders bear the tension of muscle honed for speed and battle.
Their faces are defined by strong features: straight or aquiline noses, full lips, and deep-set eyes framed by brows that often seem perpetually lifted in either amusement or calculation. Smiles come easily, but they rarely soften the sharpness of their gaze. Scars, when present, are often worn with pride, particularly in Istana and Dranar, where they speak of survival, not shame.
Eralic hair is a canvas of personal and regional identity. In Faela, long braids tied with ribbons mark family lines or harvest rites; in Rosena, hair is often oiled and curled, adorned with small beads or pins. Carthian priests wear their hair cropped close or shaved entirely beneath ceremonial hoods, while merchants favour oiled and scented locks to project success. Istani warriors often let their hair grow long and wind-tangled, tying it back with leather cords before battle. In Cienne, sailors favour practical cuts or tight braids to avoid tangles in the salt spray.
Markings vary by region and social role: in Faela, tattoos of harvest sheaves or river patterns mark lineage; in Dranar, weathered skin and windburn are marks of respect. Roseni women often trace kohl designs around the eyes during festivals, while Istani warriors may paint storm symbols across their brows before riding to war. Piercing is common, particularly in Cienne and coastal Carthia, where earrings signify both wealth and sea-bound heritage.
Clothing among the Erali is as much a statement as a necessity. In Faela, simple linen tunics, wide sashes, and woven sandals suit the work of the fields, often dyed in earthy ochres or soft greens. In Rosena, fashion is a performance: layered silks, embroidered robes, and intricate jewellery project status, and festival days see streets awash in colour. Carthians dress more formally: structured robes in white and deep blue, ceremonial sashes edged with gold thread, and religious tokens worn as amulets. Istani warriors favour practical leathers, woollen cloaks, and storm-banded capes, their attire as functional as it is imposing.
Across all regions, ornamentation reflects trade networks and local craft: shell beads from the coast, lapis from Dranar mines, and silver from Istana. Even the simplest farmer may wear a charm passed down from ancestors, while a merchant prince in Rosena might carry a half-dozen rings, each bearing a different family seal or trade sigil. Head coverings are common in Carthia and parts of Cienne, less so in Faela and Istana where the sun is more forgiving or the wind too fierce.
The Erali inhabit a wide range of environments, each shaping daily life. In Cienne, coastal cities hum with the sound of markets, shipyards, and the clink of coin; the scent of brine and spice lingers in every street. Rosena's inland hills and rivers host walled estates and bustling plazas, where scholars and artists mingle with merchants. Faela's fertile plains are dotted with smallholdings, vineyards, and village shrines, while Istana's rugged highlands are home to fortresses and swift cavalry camps, banners snapping in the wind. Dranar's river valleys and half-ruined settlements echo with resilience, while Carthia rises like a sermon in stone. Grand, marble-boned Carthia, where the Church of Taro's influence is both blessing and burden.
Each region has its own pace: the measured rituals of Carthia, the swift trade of Cienne, the slow harvests of Faela, the thunderous charges of Istana's riders. Yet across all Eralic lands, there is a shared sense of place: a belonging to the land, the gods, and the stories that bind them.
Regional variations are pronounced among the Erali. In Cienne, lighter skin and sharper features reflect centuries of seafaring intermixing with distant lands, while in Faela and Dranar, darker, earth-toned complexions prevail, weathered by sun and soil. Istana's highlanders tend toward taller, hardier frames, shaped by the demands of war and nomadic patrols. Carthians, often paler, cultivate a polished, urbane appearance, their dress and grooming reinforcing the hierarchy of faith and law. Roseni are known for their grace, often more slender, with an air of measured elegance that belies the undercurrents of ambition.
These differences matter. Not as barriers, but as quiet signals of belonging. An accent, a style of dress, the cut of a cloak, the tilt of a head in conversation. Each marks an Erali Humans home, their roots, and their place within the broader tapestry.
The rhythm of Eralic life is woven from work, worship, and celebration. In Faela, days begin early with prayers to Pandera, then to the fields. Harvests are marked by communal songs and shared meals. In Rosena, artisans rise with the sun to sculpt marble and paint frescoes, while merchants open their stalls beneath fluttering banners. Carthian priests begin their days in incense-filled sanctuaries, while scribes bend over manuscripts, recording the edicts of the Church. In Istana, warriors train at dawn, ride patrols at midday, and gather in the evenings to tell tales and mend gear by firelight. Dranar's settlers labour to reclaim the land, building anew over ruins; in Cienne, the day is punctuated by the creak of sails, the tolling of bells, and the roar of markets.
Evenings bring communal gatherings: music in the squares, storytelling by the hearth, debates in the tavern, prayers whispered at shrines. Festivals and feast days are woven into the calendar, tied to the Taro gods and the seasons, from the Storm-Calling in Istana to the Moon-Feast in Carthia. Life is not without hardship, but it is lived with intensity. A dance between duty and delight.
Erali cuisine is a celebration of trade, terroir, and tradition. In Cienne, the bounty of the sea meets spices from distant ports: grilled fish with citrus, spiced lentil stews, honeyed figs. Rosena favours lamb roasted with herbs, flatbreads spread with soft cheeses, and wine infused with pomegranate. Faela's fields yield olives, barley, and chickpeas, forming the base of hearty stews and sun-dried flatbreads. Istana's fare is robust: salted meats, sharp cheeses, and storm-tea brewed from wild herbs. In Carthia, meals are formal, marked by prayer and hierarchy. Simple grains and fish for the common folk, rich spiced dishes for the clergy and nobility. Dranar's table is sparse but resourceful: river fish, wild roots, preserved fruits.
Food is more than sustenance. It is a ritual, a bond. Meals are shared, debates flow over wine, and even a poor man's bowl of stew is accompanied by a blessing or a story. Festival dishes vary: in Carthia, moon-shaped breads are baked for Taro's Night; in Faela, harvest feasts overflow with roasted game and braided loaves; in Cienne, the first-catch of the season is grilled and eaten on the docks, hands greasy, hearts full.
"The gods of the Erali are many, yet their voices are never lost. In every harvest, they whisper. In every storm, they roar. And in the quiet moment before a promise is spoken, they watch—silent, waiting to see if word and deed will match."
Beliefs and Values
For the Erali, faith is not a matter of blind devotion but a conversation—an ever-turning dialogue between mortal and divine, community and self, past and future. The Taro Pantheon reigns across most Eralic lands, a constellation of gods woven into the fabric of daily life: Tarolas the Keeper of Light, Pandera of the Winds, Serani of the Seas, and Varuko the Wild Hunt, among others. Yet while the gods are revered, they are not distant or immutable; they are bargained with, petitioned, even questioned in the privacy of prayer. The Erali do not fear their gods—they live with them, argue with them, and seek their favour while accepting their caprice.
Family is the second axis of Eralic life: a tangle of blood, marriage, and honour that binds individuals into sprawling networks of loyalty and obligation. Kinship ties are strong, but not unbreakable—betrayal can lead to feuds lasting generations, while a single act of heroism can elevate an outsider into the family’s heart. Bonds are maintained through feasts, stories, and shared labour, but also through debts, rivalries, and the ever-present dance of reputation. To shame one’s family is to risk exile; to bring it honour is to secure a place in the songs chanted beneath the stars.
Hospitality is a sacred virtue, especially in Faela, Cienne, and Istana. A guest, once welcomed, is owed safety and care, and to violate this trust is seen as a grave sin. Carthia’s more rigid hierarchies temper this, placing limits on who may claim hospitality and under what conditions. In Rosena, hospitality often comes with an unspoken price: a guest may be treated lavishly, but they leave with a new debt or obligation inked into the intricate web of favour that underpins Roseni life.
Honour, for the Erali, is not a static code but a living practice—shaped by circumstance, bound by context. What is honourable in Faela may be foolish in Carthia; what earns respect in Istana might provoke scandal in Rosena. Yet across all Eralic cultures, there is a shared expectation: to stand by one’s word, to remember the debts of kin and community, and to leave behind a name worthy of the next generation’s stories.
Ideas of beauty among the Erali are as varied as their lands, yet certain threads bind them: symmetry is prized, as are expressive features and the vitality of motion. In Faela, a sun-browned face and strong hands are marks of worth, while in Rosena, clear skin and intricate jewellery signal refinement. In Cienne, a sailor's lean frame and wind-touched hair are seen as signs of fortune's favour. Carthians value composed demeanour and modest attire, though even here, subtle displays of status are common. Fine cloth, discreet gold. Courtship often involves subtlety: a gift of figs in Faela, a painted tile in Rosena, a folded note left at a shrine in Istana. Public displays of affection are rare in Carthia, but more accepted in the freer port cities of Cienne.
Gender norms among the Erali vary by region and class. In Faela and Dranar, women and men often share agricultural and household duties, though inheritance tends to favour male lines. In Istana, both men and women ride to war, though women warriors are often celebrated as exceptional figures. Rosena's merchant families prize education for both sons and daughters, though leadership tends to remain in male hands. Carthia enforces stricter roles under the Church of Taro: men hold religious authority, while women's roles are confined to household and community care, though exceptions exist in noble or scholarly circles. Across all Eralic lands, gender fluidity is recognised but rarely named; those who live outside strict roles often do so quietly, shaping their identity through action rather than title.
Marriage among the Erali is a bond of both affection and strategy, a knot tied for love, alliance, or survival. In Faela and Istana, marriages are often arranged, though personal choice is not unheard of, especially among common folk. Carthian unions are overseen by the Church, with contracts formalised in ceremony and sealed by prayer. Rosena is infamous for its intricate marriage politics: unions here are as much a matter of trade and influence as of heart, and a single wedding can reshape a city's power structure. In Cienne, sailors' unions are often informal. Blessings given by a shrine, promises exchanged beneath the stars. Meanwhile, noble families in Carthia and Rosena draft formal betrothal scrolls that may take months to finalise.
The rites of passage in Eralic culture are as diverse as their dialects. In Faela, a child's first harvest marks their entry into the community, while in Istana, the donning of the storm-band marks adulthood. Often this happens before a first ride. In Rosena, apprenticeships begin with a formal presentation at a patron's feast, a moment of both pride and social weight. Carthian youth undergo religious instruction and must pass a ritual test of faith before being named as full citizens of the Church's dominion. In Cienne, sailors mark a young person's first voyage with a splash of sea-water across the brow, a sign that they are bound to the tides as much as the land.
Funerary customs reflect both faith and locality. In Carthia, the Church of Taro presides over funerals, with bodies laid in crypts or tombs and prayers chanted for the safe passage of the soul. In Faela, cremation is common, with ashes scattered over fields or rivers, symbolising the return to the cycle of growth. Istani warriors are often buried with their weapons and a storm-braided cord, while in Rosena, the body is often entombed with tokens of their trade. Quills for a scribe, scales for a merchant. Cienne's sailors are frequently consigned to the sea, their names sung into the waves by grieving kin. Across all regions, the name of the deceased is remembered in story and song, a vital act to ensure they are not forgotten in the turning of time.
Eralic values are rooted in a shared sense of duty: to family, to community, to the gods, but also to the self. Loyalty is prized, yet ambition is respected; hospitality is sacred, yet shrewdness is admired. Betrayal is condemned, though cleverness in negotiation is lauded. To lie outright is shameful, yet to shade the truth in a clever bargain is a mark of wit. The Erali believe in balance: generosity should be repaid, oaths upheld, and debts cleared. Yet there is always room for interpretation, and a sharp mind is as valued as a strong arm.
"A stone is not just a stone; it is a memory made solid. A song is not just a sound; it is a river that carries us. To be Erali is to remember, to shape, and to speak—each act a thread in the tapestry of the world."
Culture and Expression
Eralic culture is a living mosaic, stitched together from the threads of ancestry, faith, and necessity. It is a culture of colour and contradiction: vibrant mosaics in Faela, solemn processions in Carthia, sea-songs in Cienne, whispered stories in Rosena's gardens. Art is not confined to galleries or temples; it spills into the streets, the marketplaces, the kitchens, and the shrines. The Erali do not separate the sacred from the everyday. They infuse life itself with meaning, whether through the weaving of cloth, the shaping of stone, or the cadence of a chant echoing in a tiled courtyard.
Their artistic traditions reflect their environment and their history: intricate carvings in Carthian cathedrals, wind-worn statues along the cliffs of Cienne, delicate glasswork in Rosena's merchant halls. Music varies by region: the resonant choral hymns of Faela's harvest feasts, the soft pluck of lyres in Rosena's shadowed gardens, the rhythmic stamping and hand-clapping of Istana's storm dancers. Every piece carries a story. Of lineage, of loss, of the unending cycles of earth and sky.
Oral tradition is the backbone of Eralic identity. Elders in Faela pass down harvest chants that blend farming wisdom with invocations to Tarolas, while in Rosena, professional story-weavers (known as Kelvara) memorise vast epics of family history and trade. Istana's warriors carve storm-sigils into their weapons, each mark recalling a battle fought or an ancestor's name. In Carthia, the Church of Taro preserves ancient scriptural hymns and enforces strict codes of textual accuracy, yet even here, regional dialects and folk verses slip through the cracks, passed in quiet corners or whispered at family altars.
The Erali view their cultural expressions as threads in a greater pattern. A weaving that links the living to the dead, the mortal to the divine. To forget a song, to leave a story untold, is to weaken the tapestry. Thus, every act of creation, no matter how humble, is an offering: a promise that what has been will not be lost, and that what is yet to come may still be shaped.
The Eralic tongue is not one language, but a constellation. The core is the Taroic language family, spoken across most of Faela, Cienne, and Istana, yet it fractures into dialects: the clipped cadences of Carthian High Speech, the lilting vowels of Cienne's coastal traders, the staccato chant of Istani warbands. In Rosena, merchants blend Taroic roots with local tongues and trader's cant, creating a hybrid speech known as Rosengal. A language of bargains and double meanings.
Most Erali are multilingual, switching tongues with ease when moving between markets, courts, and temples. Writing is revered as a sacred act in Carthia and Faela, often tied to religious or civic duties, while in Rosena, calligraphy is an art form in itself, with scrolls traded as tokens of status. In Cienne, sailors' logs and tide-maps serve as both practical records and poetic testaments to a life lived at sea.
Eralic arts are as diverse as their people: from sun-warmed frescoes in Faela's town squares to the filigreed jewellery of Roseni nobles, from the carved storm-totems of Istani clans to the precise geometries of Carthian church mosaics. Textiles are a unifying craft. Loom-woven cloths dyed with indigo, saffron, or ochre tell stories in their patterns, worn as sashes, wrapped as turbans, or hung in homes as blessings. In Carthia, large-scale murals depict scriptural tales and civic history, while in Istana, artisans craft wind-chimes from driftwood and bronze, tuned to catch the storm's breath.
Music is integral to life: Faela’s harvest songs, the layered harmonies of Carthian choirs, the sharp drumbeats of Roseni street performers. Instruments vary: flutes and lyres in Faela, hammered dulcimers in Rosena, bone pipes in Istana, and water drums in Cienne. Dance is often communal—circle dances at weddings, line dances at festivals, and the intense, individualised storm-dances of Istana’s warriors before battle. Even in Carthia’s more reserved court life, music and poetry are cultivated arts, with nobles sponsoring composers and scribes to immortalise their legacies.
Eralic myths trace the lineage of gods, heroes, and mortal lineages in overlapping webs of narrative. The Taro Pantheon is at the heart of most Eralic storytelling, but each region emphasises different aspects: Faela's tales favour Tarolas as the gentle keeper of the fields, while Istana exalts Casmios the flame-bearer and storm-hunter. In Rosena, stories of Pandera's cleverness and trickery dominate, often used as moral lessons in trade and negotiation. Carthia, under the Church of Taro, presents a more unified and rigid scriptural canon, though even here, folk tales survive in whispers. Legends of saints, miracle-workers, and ancient lineages that blur the line between history and myth.
Ancestor stories hold equal weight: family lineages traced back to mythical founders, ancestors who turned the tide of a battle, or humble matriarchs whose wisdom preserved a harvest. In Cienne, sailor-families tell tales of long-lost captains who still steer the stars. Every Erali community holds its own heroes, remembered in tale and song, their names spoken at feasts and whispered over new-borns.
Certain figures stand above the local legends, their stories shared across regions and generations. Among them: Alren Varos, a Faelan rebel who brokered peace between warring hill-clans; Miraya of Istana, a storm-walker said to have turned aside a lightning strike with a single word; Kallinros of Rosena, the so-called "Silver Tongue" who once negotiated a trade treaty between five rival merchant houses, uniting them for a single generation; and Tarsene the Elder, a Carthian chronicler whose scriptural texts shaped Church doctrine. His private letters reveal a deep scepticism about the gods he served. Each is a mirror of Eralic ideals: bold, flawed, and remembered.
Eralic history is a tapestry of migration, conquest, and renewal. Early Erali peoples settled along rivers and coastlines, spreading inland through valleys and mountain passes. Carthia rose as a centre of faith and empire, imposing the Church of Taro's strict hierarchy on surrounding lands. Faela's plains hosted merchant republics and feuding clans, while Rosena's coastal cities blossomed into trade hubs ruled by cunning merchant councils. Istana's highlands fostered warrior cultures shaped by storms and isolation, while Cienne grew as a maritime melting pot, absorbing influences from distant shores.
Conflicts have defined Eralic history. Whether over water, land, or faith, these struggles shaped them. Yet so too have alliances: between merchant houses and peasant leagues, between church leaders and rebel warbands, between rival cities united against a common foe. Even today, Eralic cultures remain in flux: Carthia's church-state faces growing unrest, Rosena's trade wars simmer, and Istana's storm-clans watch the skies for omens yet to be named. The Erali, ever passionate and ever pragmatic, remain a people who shape their own fate. One song, one stone, one story at a time.
"To speak a name is to breathe life into memory, to bind the past to the present and promise a future. We are born from those who came before, but we are not bound. We carry the names of our ancestors as seeds, to grow or to scatter as the winds may turn."
Naming and Lineage
Eralic names are echoes of lineage, faith, and geography, yet they are never fixed. Names may carry the weight of centuries in Carthia, where ancestral lines trace back to the founders of the Church, or they may shift with the tides in Rosena, where a merchant might reinvent their name with each new venture. In Cienne, coastal names often mirror the tides and winds, while in Faela, names are shaped by the earth: names of stones, rivers, and crops, whispered into the cradle as blessings and prayers. Istana's storm-clans favour names tied to weather, strength, and omens, often invoking the power of storms in their lineages.
Naming practices vary across regions, but a common pattern holds: a personal name, often reflecting a virtue, aspiration, or natural element; a family or lineage name passed down from parent to child, usually through the paternal line in Carthia and Cienne, but matrilineally in some Faelan and Istani clans; and, in some cases, an earned name. Earned names are bestowed upon reaching adulthood, granted after a significant act, or taken to mark a change in status or allegiance. Roseni merchants often add trade names to signal alliances or past ventures, while Carthian nobles may append titles to reinforce their claim to ancestral prestige.
Eralic names are often poetic or symbolic. Personal names frequently draw from the Taro Pantheon, such as Tarovin ("favoured by Tarolas") or Casmin ("of the fire-keeper"), but nature and virtues are equally common: Sira (wind), Elenos (hope), Ferran (iron), Kaleh (storm). In Rosena, names may blend languages, creating hybrids like Jovran or Selmira, while in Faela, names of plants, rivers, and stars are popular: Maras (river), Olivan (olive tree), Zerin (bright star). Istani names are often short, sharp, and tied to weather: Varak (lightning), Branir (thunder), Kelna (rain). Carthia's ecclesiastical names favour formality: Eranos, Tarsene, Velessa.
In all regions, names are spoken with care, as they are believed to carry power. To speak a name in anger is to curse it; to sing it in ritual is to bless. Names may be lengthened or shortened depending on the formality of the occasion, and diminutives are common in intimate settings. Nicknames often reflect deeds, such as Fire-Hand, Stone-Voice, or Fleet-Shadow.
Family structures vary widely across the Eralic realms. In Carthia, strict patriarchal lineages dominate, with noble houses tracing their ancestry through carefully maintained records, while in Faela, clan-based affiliations are common, and maternal lines may hold equal or greater weight, especially among rural farmers and shepherds. Istani storm-clans form tight kinship circles bound by shared rituals and oaths rather than strict bloodlines, with fosterage and adoption seen as honourable ways to strengthen bonds. In Rosena, mercantile families often form sprawling networks of kinship, blending blood ties with trade alliances; a merchant might be "uncle" to a partner's child in one city and "sister" to a trade ally in another.
The concept of legacy is deeply ingrained: family stories are told at meals, at festivals, and at funerals, reinforcing a sense of belonging and duty. In Carthia and Faela, family shrines hold plaques or carvings of ancestors' names, while in Cienne and Rosena, family symbols are woven into textiles or engraved onto tools. Istani storm-clans mark lineage through storm-sigils. Unique symbols burned into wood, stone, or skin, representing the fusion of bloodline and storm. To forget one's ancestors is a grave shame; to be disowned is to lose one's name and place in the world.
- Tarovin: A Carthian name meaning "Favoured by Tarolas," often given to sons born during a solar festival.
- Selmira: A Roseni name blending Taroic and trader tongues, meaning "Star-Blessed."
- Branir: An Istani name meaning "Thunder," common among storm-dancers and warriors.
- Elenos: A Faelan name meaning "Hope," often given to children born after hardship or loss.
- Kaleh: A Faelan name linked to storm and wind, also found among Istani clans.
- Maras: A Cienne name meaning "River," common in coastal communities.
- Tarsene: A formal Carthian name, often borne by clergy and scholars, derived from the name of a revered chronicler.
- Velessa: A Carthian feminine name meaning "Grace" or "Radiance," favoured by noble families.
- Kelna: An Istani name meaning "Rain," sometimes used as an earned name among storm-clans.
- Olivan: A Faelan name meaning "Olive Tree," symbolising peace and resilience.
Additional names might combine elements or include titles, such as Tarovin-Kelna ("Storm-Blessed of Tarolas") or Branir of the Three Storms. Names are fluid, adapting as individuals move between realms, professions, or allegiances.
"The Erali measure not only their lands, but the air that passes over them, the stories told beneath their roofs, and the dreams that drift across their borders. They are a people not defined by a single place, but by the endless lines they draw between places, and the paths they walk to bind them."
Geography and Demographics
Eralic humans are a people of many homelands, their presence woven into the lands of Carthia, Faela, Rosena, Istana, Cienne, Dranar, and beyond. Though tied together by language roots, ancestral faiths, and shared histories, the Erali are not a monolith. Each region has shaped them differently, as have the forces of trade, conquest, and faith. Where the plains of Faela offer room for sprawling family holdings and harvest feasts, the narrow alleyways of Rosena's trade ports foster tight-knit merchant houses bound by cunning and coin. The highland storms of Istana forge storm-walkers and stone-cutters, while Carthia's golden-spired cathedrals cast long shadows over a people torn between faith and ambition.
Despite their regional differences, Eralic populations tend to cluster near fertile lands, rivers, and coastlines. These are places where trade can flow and crops can thrive. Urbanisation is common, particularly in Carthia, Rosena, and Faela, while more rural or semi-nomadic Erali persist in the highlands of Istana and the hinterlands of Cienne. Their settlements reflect their values: a Carthian cathedral-town may centre around a fortified church and market square, while a Faelan village might sprawl in low stone-walled farms, each family homestead a node in a web of kinship. In Rosena, cities are dense and layered, built upon generations of trade and rivalry, while in Istana, small stoneholds cling to cliffsides and wind-carved ridges, facing storms as if in defiance.
Carved into the heart of Erala, Carthia is both the cradle of the Church of Taro and the seat of the Imperium Medusae. Here, Erali culture is shaped by the interplay of power and piety. The Church looms large, enforcing orthodoxy and order, but beneath this structure thrives a vibrant culture of scholarship, music, and civic pride. Carthian Erali are often deeply literate, with a strong emphasis on religious festivals, family lineage, and civic duty. Yet beneath the surface, dissent simmers. Hidden libraries, whispered critiques of the Church, and underground gatherings where forbidden stories and songs are shared. Carthia is a land where the weight of the past presses down, but where the Erali find ways to speak and sing, even when the world demands silence.
Faela sprawls across fertile plains and riverlands, a patchwork of merchant towns, farming villages, and hill-clan enclaves. Here, Eralic culture is warm, communal, and deeply tied to the cycles of the land. Harvest festivals, moonlit dances, and oral storytelling traditions flourish. Families gather in stone courtyards to share food and stories, and the passing of seasons is marked by elaborate rituals blending Taroic prayer with local superstitions. Faelan Erali are pragmatic yet sentimental, blending the old and the new with an easy grace. Their speech carries the cadence of rivers, and their humour—often sly and cutting—is matched by an unshakable sense of loyalty to kin and community.
Rosena's coastal cities are hubs of trade, intrigue, and art. The Erali here are cosmopolitan, adaptive, and keenly aware of the power of appearance. Wealth and influence are everything, but so too is reputation, and Roseni Erali cultivate theirs with careful precision. Their language is a dance of implication, their fashion an art form, and their homes layered in silks, spices, and stories. Yet beneath this glitter lies a ruthless pragmatism; Roseni families rise and fall like tides, and no one forgets a slight. Erali of Rosena are merchants, poets, and politicians, their lives woven from the shifting currents of trade, ambition, and whispered secrets.
High in the storm-carved ridges of Istana, Eralic culture is forged by wind, stone, and hardship. The Erali of Istana are fewer in number, but fiercely proud. They are warrior-clans and storm-walkers who trace their ancestry through carved storm-sigils and oaths whispered to the sky. Life here is harsh, marked by lean harvests and the ever-present threat of the storm, yet it is also a land of fierce joy: feasts shared after a successful hunt, songs shouted into the wind, dances that mimic the crash of thunder. Istani Erali are bound by kin and storm, their homes built into the cliffs, their hearts tied to the ever-changing sky.
Cienne is a place of transition. A realm where rivers meet the sea, where traders from distant lands mingle, and where Eralic communities have blended with other cultures, especially the maritime Paokus. Here, Erali are seafarers, traders, and craftsmen, their lives shaped by the ebb and flow of trade and tide. Their speech carries echoes of far-off tongues, and their beliefs blend the Taroic faith with local superstitions and maritime omens. Cienne's Erali are adaptable, sharp-eyed, and fiercely independent, their cities bustling with docks, markets, and shipyards. They are a people of trade, yet they hold tightly to family ties, often forming extended networks of kinship and partnership across port cities and merchant fleets.
Though smaller in number, Eralic communities exist in Dranar, often as border traders, diplomats, or craftspeople in the larger cities. Here, Erali adapt once more, blending their traditions with those of their neighbours. Be it the martial codes of the Seishi or the agricultural wisdom of local clans. Dranari Erali often serve as mediators or scribes, their fluency in multiple languages and cultures making them valuable as advisors and go-betweens. They maintain family shrines and oral histories, even as they navigate a world of shifting alliances and uncertain borders.
Beyond their core homelands, Eralic diaspora communities can be found across the world: Roseni traders in the markets of Bashri, Carthian scholars teaching in far-flung monasteries, Faelan craftspeople plying their skills in frontier towns. They often face suspicion or envy, seen as cunning, charming, or dangerously persuasive by those who do not understand their layered ways. Yet wherever they go, Erali maintain their songs, their stories, and their stubborn, unyielding sense of self. A Roseni merchant in a foreign court might still hang a small mosaic of Pandera behind her stall; a Faelan farmer on the edge of the Trossic plains might plant an olive tree in defiance of the cold. The Erali are never truly alone. They carry their roots with them, braided into their names, their songs, and their hearts.
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