Paokus - Cilanis
“I stood upon the cliffs of Kova as the last light bled through the peaks, and there—against the burnished sky—wings broke the horizon. They came in silence, gliding on dusk-coloured winds, each beat of their feathered limbs like a prayer whispered not to gods, but to the mountain itself. They did not descend. They watched.”
“I had seen many peoples of Arora—warriors carved from stone, singers who speak with snow, scaled titans who battle the sun—but never had I felt so small, so unmoored, as under the eyes of the Paokus. There is something not merely old in them, but untranslatable. Their gaze held neither judgement nor welcome, only remembrance. As if they had known my shape long before my birth, and mourned already the path I had yet to take.”
“Even now, I cannot say what I witnessed. One of them sang, a low thrumming chord that echoed between the crags and in my bones. I think it knew my name.”
Introduction
The Paokus are a reclusive and enigmatic species, their lives perched quite literally above the rest of Arora. Born of storm and sky, they reside in the highest reaches of the world’s most forbidding mountains—unreachable by road, untouched by empire, and largely unknown to the peoples below. With avian forms closer to their ancestral beasts than any other sapient species, the Paokus soar between cliff and cloud, and between knowledge and myth.
There are two known ethnicities of Paokus: the Zeta, who resemble great eagles and make their citadel homes among the soaring peaks of the Impan mountains; and the Rai, who take the shape of falcons and dwell in the rugged spires of the island-realm of Kova. Both ethnicities may share a distant kinship, a physiology marked by feathers and wings, beaks and talons—but culturally, they have diverged in ways as vast as the skies they inhabit. The Zeta Paokus are noble and structured, their society built upon astronomy, song, and reverent silence. The Rai Paokus, by contrast, are elusive and often feared, their shadowed shrines and whispered chants giving rise to tales of heresy and hidden pacts.
This separation is not merely cultural or geographical, but philosophical. The Zeta look upward toward the stars and sun, seeking enlightenment in pattern and time. The Rai look inward—and perhaps downward—into the roiling mystery of Ferrousto and the whispered names of the Daerhys, entities which others call demons. To speak plainly, there are some who believe the Rai do not merely study such beings—they serve them. Yet what is known for certain is perilously little. The Rai guard their secrets behind storms and altitude, and those who seek truth in their peaks often return changed, or not at all.
What unites all Paokus, however, is their distance from the world. Unlike other peoples, who measure their stories by conquest or ruin, the Paokus seem to move according to an older rhythm—one not entirely aligned with time as most understand it. Their cities do not grow, their songs do not change, and their knowledge seems drawn from wells far deeper than memory. Perhaps that is why the Directorate tolerates their defiance. Perhaps even the Alemni fear that to reach too high is to call down something that watches, and waits.
To study the Paokus is to study the horizon itself—always seen, never held. A people who dwell where the air is thin and time folds like wings. We name them mountain sages, wind-dwellers, demon-singers—but the truth of the Paokus lies somewhere between feather and flame, half-remembered in the winds that pass untouched above the world.
Mechanics
Uncommon Humanoid Avian
Source: Arora
The Paokus are avian humanoids whose bodies retain much of their ancestral form. Feathers cover most of their limbs and torsos, their heads are crested and beaked, and their arms extend into powerful wings capable of limited flight. Though upright and capable of speech, their movements remain light and precise, with an otherworldly grace that marks them even at rest. Hollow-boned and lightweight, they are swift on their talons and deadly from above when provoked.
Their two ethnicities exhibit significant cultural and physiological distinction. Zeta Paokus, resembling golden eagles, are taller and broader-winged, dwelling in the solar citadels of the Impan mountains. Rai Paokus, falcon-like and sleek, inhabit the craggy heights of Kova, where they follow ancient, secretive spiritual paths known as Daerhys Worship—controversially rumoured to involve pacts with dangerous Rhysar entities in exchange for power, vision, and knowledge of the Ferrousto. While this is unconfirmed by outsiders, there is no denying the unusual frequency of magical phenomena surrounding Rai sanctuaries.
Despite their aloofness, Paokus adventurers do appear from time to time—often as emissaries, wind-singers, or solitary seekers drawn to the world below by signs, dreams, or names only they understand. To see one in flight is a rare wonder; to speak with one is rarer still. But when they choose to descend, the skies grow quiet in respect.
You Might...
- See the world from above, both literally and philosophically, often speaking in metaphor or riddle.
- Revere silence, flight, or high places as sacred or restorative.
- Believe in fate, dreams, or omens, and interpret events through symbolic logic.
- Hide powerful knowledge behind ritual, song, or oblique speech.
Others Probably...
- View you as strange, aloof, or uncanny—perhaps untrustworthy.</li]
- Respect your grace, wisdom, and the beauty of your songcraft or rituals.
- Whisper rumours about your people’s connection to demons or forbidden magic.
Physical Description
Paokus are slender and aerodynamic in build, standing between 1.6 and 1.8 meters tall, with long limbs ending in sharp talons. Their heads are fully avian, with strong beaks, large expressive eyes, and sweeping crests. Wings are integrated into their arms, usually folded into feathered cloaks when not in use. Their feathers range in hue from smoky greys and browns (Rai) to golden, russet, or ivory (Zeta), with cultural markings often painted or bound in small amulets.
Their movements are swift and exact, capable of powerful bursts of motion despite their relatively light musculature. When in flight, they are truly majestic—arcing across mountaintops with an ease that seems impossible. Yet prolonged flight tires them quickly, and gliding is far more common in daily life.
Society
Paokus live in isolated mountain enclaves, each tailored to the philosophies of their people. Zeta settlements are orderly and grand, aligned with the movements of stars and sun, governed by priest-kings or councils of astronomer-priests. Rai enclaves, by contrast, are solitary and dispersed—monasteries or shrines clinging to cliff-faces like nests, overseen by spiritual adepts and shrouded in wind-borne chants.
Their societies tend to be introspective and ritualistic, placing value on contemplation, reverence, and precise knowledge—be it celestial, historical, or arcane. Both cultures prize oral tradition, and memory is treated with almost sacred gravity. Leadership is often earned through mastery of songlines, wisdom in signs, or endurance in spiritual trials.
Beliefs
Religion among the Paokus is varied, but always intimate and atmospheric. The Zeta revere celestial cycles, ancestral spirits, and the power of true names spoken in harmony with the stars. Their temples house vast feather-archives, carved stone observatories, and sacred song-chambers where rituals echo through generations.
The Rai practise the elusive and often-misunderstood tradition of Daerhys Worship. Though little is confirmed, travellers and scholars report strange sigils, dreamlike chants, and rituals that involve unspeakable offerings. Some believe the Rai commune directly with the Daerhys, or with something beyond them, beings of power and madness whose names are carved into the cliffs of Kova, never to be spoken aloud. Whatever the truth, the Rai do not deny it. They only watch, and sing.
Popular Edicts
- Keep ancient traditions alive through song, ritual, and memory.
- Preserve sacred spaces from intrusion or profanation.
- Seek wisdom through meditation, vision, or flight.
- Protect the balance between the seen and unseen world.
Popular Anathema
- Reveal the names of sacred beings to outsiders.
- Desecrate a mountain shrine or forget a featherline of your people.
- Use Ferrousto carelessly, selfishly, or without permission.
Names
Paokus names are musical, symbolic, and drawn from traditions older than most civilisations. Rai names are often short and spiritual, inspired by wisdom, natural elements, or ancestral virtues. Zeta names are longer, resonant, and tied to historical or celestial events. Both are rich with layered meanings, some of which are never shared with outsiders.
Sample Names (Rai): Dawa, Lobsang, Karma, Sonam, Tenzin, Norbu, Yeshe
Sample Names (Zeta): Amaru, Chaska, Inti, Killa, Quispe, Sumaq, Tupac
Paokus Mechanics
- Hit Points: 8
- Size: Medium
- Speed: 25 feet, Fly Speed 20 feet (see Glider Trait)
- Lifespan: 160 years
- Available Ethnicities: Zeta, Rai - Paokus Ethnicity
- Attribute Boosts: Dexterity, Wisdom, Free
- Attribute Flaw: Constitution
Species Traits
- Low-Light Vision: You can see in dim light as though it were bright light. You ignore the concealed condition due to dim light.
- Glider: You have wings that allow you to glide. If you fall, you can glide up to 5 feet horizontally for every 1 foot you fall, and you take no damage from falling while gliding. You cannot glide while encumbered or wearing heavy armour.
- Soaring Burst: Once per hour, you may take flight for up to 3 consecutive rounds, moving up to your fly speed. During this time, you can remain airborne without falling. After this burst, you must rest your wings before flying again.
- Avian Vocal Resonance: You gain a +2 circumstance bonus to Performance checks involving singing, mimicry, or echoic effects.
- Rai Only – Daerhys Initiate (Ancestry Feat Option): You may take the Daerhys Initiate ancestry feat, allowing you to attune to Ferrousto sources and gain cryptic insight during rest. Such visions are often disturbing but sometimes grant knowledge or warnings from beyond.
“Feathered but not fledged, they are not birds nor beasts nor men, but something stranger still. Carved by heights the rest of us cannot survive, shaped by winds that erase all trace of the world below. Their bodies sing with memory, their bones remember falling, and their eyes—those eyes—carry the horizon within.”
Biology
The physiology of the Paokus stands apart from all other sapient species of Arora, hewing closer to their avian roots than any other kin to their bestial ancestors. While upright and bipedal, their bodies remain optimised for altitude: lightweight, aerodynamic, and astonishingly efficient in the high-pressure environments of the sky. From their hollow bones and strong pectoral muscles to their wide-set eyes and insulating feathers, every element of their anatomy serves a higher purpose—literally and metaphorically.
Paokus possess a highly adapted skeletal system composed of light but reinforced bone structures, allowing them to remain surprisingly durable while retaining lift-capable bodies. Their musculature focuses heavily on their chest and back, powering the partial flight offered by their large wings. Though their arms double as wings, they retain limited manual dexterity through elongated, flexible digits near the base of the wing—enough to wield tools, craft, or grip in combat.
Their heads are entirely avian, with keen eyesight adapted for long-range detail. Beaks differ slightly between ethnicities: Zeta have broader, heavier hooked beaks suitable for both ritual and combat, while Rai beaks are more narrow and piercing, suited to precision and speed. Their talons, present on both feet and hands, are retractable and used both defensively and for perching or climbing.
Paokus reproduce in a manner largely analogous to other sapient species, though their nesting and parenting customs are unique. Clutches are small, often no more than a single egg at a time, with twins or rapid succession considered rare and spiritually significant. Eggs are incubated communally in high sanctums or designated aerie-halls, and children are raised with contributions from both parents and a wider group of spiritual or scholarly mentors.
While the Zeta maintain extensive ceremonial customs around egg-laying and naming rites, Rai practices are more secretive, with anecdotal accounts suggesting that eggs may be imbued with warding symbols or set beside Ferrousto shards to induce visions in the unborn. Such tales remain unconfirmed, but the implications are... unsettling.
Paokus reach physical maturity swiftly, typically within twelve to fourteen years. Their mental and spiritual maturity, however, is often not acknowledged until much later, usually marked by passing a ritual flight or ‘featherline’ recital—a full oral history of their ancestry and purpose. Average lifespan for a Paokus is around 160 years, though some records suggest individuals have lived significantly longer in isolation, especially among the Rai.
Unlike other species, Paokus aging is subtle: feathers grey only in rare cases, and physical deterioration is slow and graceful. Many elders retain the ability to glide or even soar in short bursts well into their twilight decades, though ceremonial flight replaces practical use as they age.
The Paokus demonstrate a seasonal biological rhythm tied to the wind patterns, temperatures, and Ferrousto fields of their homelands. Zeta individuals experience minor metabolic shifts during solar cycles, with appetite and wakefulness waxing and waning in line with celestial alignments. Their feathers thicken or shed depending on climate variation, allowing for seamless adaptation to Impan’s volatile highlands.
Rai Paokus undergo more pronounced changes. Seasonal shifts often coincide with pilgrimage flights, internal fasting, or dream-walk rituals. Some scholars speculate that Daerhys-affiliated individuals undergo actual neurological changes during high Ferrousto periods—described vaguely in some accounts as “storm-season moltings” or “wing-shedding of the soul.” What this entails biologically is unknown.
Paokus intelligence is both acute and esoteric. They possess excellent memory faculties, particularly auditory and symbolic recall, which underpins their complex oral traditions. Abstract reasoning is valued in both cultures, but rarely in the form familiar to other races: where an Alemni scholar might seek empirical causality, a Paokus philosopher would explore recursive pattern or metaphor as a form of deeper truth.
Zeta education focuses on logic through symmetry and celestial motion, resulting in prodigious mathematicians and architects. Rai intelligence tends toward introspective and ritual application, often expressed through symbolic association, visionary dreaming, or deep emotional intuition. While not always immediately practical, Rai insight has on occasion revealed truths other cultures took decades to uncover—though how they arrive at these truths remains cryptic.
“They are not of the wind—they are the wind. They carry memory in silence, knowledge in whispers, and warnings in smiles.”
Appearance and Adaptation
To behold a Paokus is to encounter the sublime made flesh—an impression of sky and song, shaped into sinew and silence. Their appearance is striking and unmistakable, neither monstrous nor graceful in the traditional sense, but instead evocative of something older, as though carved from wind and storm rather than clay or bone. They move not with fluidity, but with purpose, every motion a calculated expression of balance and weightlessness. Theirs is a beauty that does not seek to be understood, only witnessed.
Though sharing core features, the two Paokus ethnicities express their avian heritage in ways that mirror their environment and belief systems. Zeta Paokus are majestic and radiant, their golden or ivory plumage often glinting with sunstone dust or ceremonial paint. Rai Paokus are leaner and sharper-featured, cloaked in storm-dark greys and windswept silvers, their eyes intense and watching. Both wear adornments of feather, bone, and metal, not for vanity, but as mnemonic and spiritual tools—the body as a living manuscript of lineage and meaning.
The average Paokus stands between 1.6 and 1.8 meters tall, their bodies lightweight but strong. Their skeletal frame, built around flight adaptation, features hollow bones reinforced with dense collagen, giving them surprising resilience despite their seemingly fragile form. Their torsos are narrow and upright, with a slightly forward lean—an echo of flight posture—and a gait that is more gliding step than grounded stride.
Their wings emerge from their upper back and outer arms, forming long feathered membranes that stretch when in use but fold into cloaked shapes when grounded. The inner edge of each wing retains vestigial fingers with which they grasp, manipulate, or balance. These digits, though less dexterous than human hands, are deft enough to wield light tools, inscribe ritual lines, or wield a staff in defence.
The facial structure of a Paokus is wholly avian: elongated, expressive beaks; large, luminous eyes adapted for long-distance focus; and crests or feather-fans along the scalp that shift with mood and wind. Their eyes are particularly haunting—reflective and depthless, with irises of gold, silver, or black-ringed umber. Zeta Paokus favour high, sweeping crests, often gilded or painted during ceremonies. Rai crests are narrower, with jagged patterns or deliberate weathering that mark their order or past visions.
Though incapable of traditional facial expressions, their eyes, posture, and crest position convey emotion with striking clarity—once one learns to read the signs. Among themselves, micro-gestures and wind-signals replace words entirely during flight.
Paokus plumage is both functional and deeply symbolic. Feathers range from soft down to rigid flight primaries, with their colours determined by ancestry, diet, altitude, and ritual status. Zeta feathers shimmer in hues of bronze, ivory, rust, or sunlit ochre, often arranged in layered capes or ceremonial fans that denote station. Rai feathers tend toward monochrome gradients—grey to black, silver to blue—with occasional streaks of red or violet seen as omens of spiritual potency or Daerhys favour.
Both ethnicities incorporate their plumage into cultural expression. Feathers are marked with inks, soot, or carved with bone combs to form sigils and genealogical linework. To cut one's own flight feathers is a profound gesture—mourning, exile, or sacrifice. To bind them together in braids or hang tokens from them is to carry the memory of dreams or ancestors. In this way, the Paokus do not merely wear their past—they fly with it.
“We mark time in stone, but they mark it in sky. Every feather a word, every wingbeat a verse. What are we to such language?”
Habitat and Lifestyle
The Paokus do not merely live in the mountains—they are of them. Their homes are not built upon stone but within it, growing outward from precipice and cliff-face like wings held in mid-beat. To call these places villages or cities would be a disservice. They are sanctuaries, citadels, and sacred echoes carved into the bones of the world. Built where the wind sings and the air thins, these communities remain unseen by most who walk the lowlands, and untouched by conquest or mapmaker’s ink.
Each ethnicity inhabits its realm in a manner suited to its beliefs. The Zeta Paokus construct deliberate, sun-bound enclaves high in the Impan mountains—grand in silence, ornate in symmetry. The Rai Paokus dwell instead in the jagged peaks of Kova, where storms gather and vanish with unsettling speed. Their monasteries cling to cliffs like nests, tethered by rope-bridges and wind-wards, the structures themselves seeming to listen, to wait. Between them lies a world rarely glimpsed by others: self-sustaining, unmapped, and ancient beyond reckoning.
Zeta Paokus inhabit the central mountain chain of Impan, a crescent range nestled between Perivarun and Tukhan. Their citadels are arranged along solar paths, with structures hewn from stone, bone, and gleaming mica, often aligned to equinoxes and solstices. Terrace-farms cling to sunward slopes, growing high-altitude grains, moss-fruits, and medicinal herbs nurtured by warm updrafts and ritual tending.
Each settlement houses a central observatory-temple where skywatchers track celestial cycles and maintain the featherline memory of the tribe. Despite their apparent isolation, Zeta enclaves are connected by a network of glide-paths, wind beacons, and messenger-flights, allowing them to function as a loosely federated theocracy whose decisions are measured in seasons, not days.
Rai Paokus reside in the craggy labyrinth of Kova, a remote western island shrouded in storm and cloud. Their dwellings are far less grand than the Zeta’s, but no less deliberate—stone shrines, cave-temples, and suspended sanctuaries hidden among needlelike ridges. Settlements are small, often no more than a single order or clan per peak.
The lowlands of Kova, now partially settled by humans, remain of little interest to the Rai. Their domain lies above, in the fog-laced places where storms gather and lightning sometimes sings in names. Access is impossible without flight, and warnings—painted on cliff walls or carried in wind-chants—ensure that few approach unbidden.
Paokus diets reflect the limitations and abundance of high places. As omnivores with efficient metabolisms, they subsist on a combination of highland vegetation, scavenged meats, and cultivated alpine crops. Zeta cuisine is ceremonial and seasonal, incorporating fermented root-pastes, dried sunfish from mountaintop lakes, and complex seedcakes imbued with symbolic arrangements.
Rai dietary customs are lean and ritualistic. Fasting is common, often part of spiritual practice or flight training. They favour smoked cliff-goat, fermented wind-tubers, and rare, luminous fungi believed to enhance vision during dream-walks.
Paokus psychology is shaped by altitude and solitude. Isolation is not loneliness to them, but clarity. Each ethnicity views existence not as a contest or conquest, but as a climb—a slow spiral toward understanding or ascension. They value patience, memory, and inner stillness, often speaking only when speech is necessary, and never wasting breath on idle explanation.
Zeta Paokus tend toward collective identity, viewing the individual as a vessel through which lineage and tradition flow. They do not ask “Who are you?” but “Whose song do you carry?” Pride is measured in continuity, not innovation. Rai Paokus, by contrast, are introspective to the point of opacity. Their sense of self is fluid, shaped by dreams, visions, and perceived signs. A Rai may change name, purpose, or even clan with little notice—yet each change is seen not as contradiction, but as revelation.
Both cultures approach emotion with restraint, using song, gesture, and flight to express what speech cannot. Joy is wind beneath the wing. Grief is a feather cast into the gorge. And anger, when it comes, is rarely loud—but it always finds its mark.
Zeta Paokus social structures are formal, layered, and reverent. Each settlement is guided by a council of elders, each responsible for maintaining a portion of the community’s oral history and celestial rites. Positions are inherited not by blood but by memory—only those who can recite the full cycle of a lineage without flaw are considered fit to lead. Apprentices train for decades, and contests of memory are sacred affairs held beneath eclipses or stellar alignments.
Artisans, singers, and astronomers form the lifeblood of Zeta enclaves. Every individual serves the cycle: some as builders, others as scribes, and a rare few as “Echoes”—individuals who take on the names and duties of revered ancestors, believed to be reborn in their breath.
Rai Paokus live in small, loosely connected spiritual orders, each centred on a single monastery or shrine. Leadership is fluid, based on spiritual insight or vision-trials. Clan affiliation is less important than the current role one serves in the cosmic pattern. Pilgrimage between orders is common, and many Rai take temporary vows of silence or flight, retreating into storm-borne meditation for years.
Each Rai enclave holds one or more Wind-Speakers—mystic interpreters of storm, vision, and name, often said to speak the tongue of demons. Whether this is metaphor or reality depends on the wind—and the watcher.
“They say the sky holds no memory. But that is untrue. It remembers the shape of wings, the path of song, the names once whispered by stars.”
Culture and Civilisation
The Paokus possess a culture that feels not merely ancient, but elemental—etched into wind and stone rather than scroll and script. Their way of life is defined not by conquest, wealth, or innovation, but by devotion to what endures: memory, silence, and the movement of the sky. Every part of their society, from their architecture to their language, is a reflection of this elemental ethos. To a Paokus, civilisation is not something one builds—it is something one carries in the bones, in the song, and in the shape of one’s flight.
Though the Zeta and Rai share ancestral roots, their cultures diverged long ago into two parallel philosophies. The Zeta live lives of harmonious ritual, dedicating themselves to the preservation of ancestral knowledge, celestial harmony, and the measured retelling of lineage and lore. In contrast, the Rai dwell within contradiction: they embrace mystery, transformation, and the pursuit of knowledge through communion with powers few dare name. Their culture flows like a storm: quiet one moment, thunderous the next, and always moving toward some higher—or deeper—truth.
Zeta Paokus culture is defined by precision, balance, and continuity. Rituals mark every aspect of life: birth, naming, apprenticeship, the first glide, the first vision, and death. Music and mathematics are considered twin disciplines, and the architecture of their citadels mirrors the structure of their calendar-cycles. Every Zeta is expected to contribute to the preservation of their culture through their work, their memory, and their conduct.
Art among the Zeta is functional and symbolic. Feather arrangements, mosaic inlays, and carved featherlines serve not only aesthetic purposes but spiritual ones, preserving the names and deeds of those who came before. Their songs are slow and layered, intended to be sung by many voices in harmony—a literal chorus of the past.
Rai Paokus culture is more fluid and expressive, though no less structured beneath the surface. Their rituals are often private, ecstatic, and esoteric, blending chant, dance, and flight into intense meditative or visionary states. Symbols are carved into stone, painted with ash, or whispered into winds that carry meaning between peaks.
Rai art is transient: sand mandalas scattered by storm, chants written in melting snow, braided ephemeral patterns only understood by initiates. They are a people of signs and portents, reading meaning in wind-eddies, lightning strikes, and dreams. Change is not feared—it is sacred.
The languages of the Paokus are more than systems of speech—they are vessels for memory, rhythm, and sacred resonance. Zetan, spoken by the Zeta Paokus, is a resonant, syllabic language rooted in tone and timing. Its structure mirrors celestial movements, and many words shift meaning depending on the season, the sun’s position, or the phase of the moon. Zetan is rarely written, and when it is, it takes the form of geometric carvings aligned to stellar charts.
Rai, the language of the Rai Paokus, is breathy, sharp, and layered with meaning. It mimics bird calls, wind tones, and heartbeats. Many of its syllables cannot be captured on the page and must be sung or whistled. A single phrase in Rai can have dozens of meanings depending on pitch, pacing, and which direction the speaker faces. Outsiders find it near-impossible to learn. Rai Paokus have no desire to teach it.
Zeta religious beliefs revolve around celestial harmony, ancestral reverence, and the sacred power of names. Their cosmology is structured, layered, and deeply rooted in the movements of the heavens. Each star is a soul, each eclipse a message. They believe that to know something’s true name is to know its purpose, and that all beings must move according to the song written for them at their first breath. Temples are built as observatories, and songs are timed to solstices and conjunctions.
By contrast, the Rai Paokus practise the unsettling and poorly understood Daerhys Worship—a faith not of reverence, but of communion. They believe that Rhysar, particularly the Daerhys, are not abominations but emissaries of a higher, more primal truth. Where others see madness, the Rai see insight; where others see corruption, they see revelation. They do not worship these beings out of fear, but out of desire—for understanding, for ascension, for knowledge unbound by law or flesh.
The rituals of Daerhys Worship are shrouded in secrecy. It is believed that Ferrousto is used as both offering and conduit, and that those who return from communion carry glimpses of impossible futures. Whether these insights are true, useful, or even survivable is a question few dare ask. The Rai do not speak of such things. They only chant, and wait for the wind.
The Paokus maintain strict taboos, many of which seem opaque or arbitrary to outsiders but which are enforced with quiet, unwavering resolve. Among the Zeta, to speak a sacred name aloud without ceremony is a grievous violation, believed to fracture the harmony of the cycle. To forget one’s featherline or speak falsely of it is an act of spiritual severance, warranting exile or memory-purging rites. Even laughter in sacred places is discouraged—it is said that mirth disrupts the resonance of the dead.
Among the Rai, the taboos are stranger still. Certain gestures cannot be made during specific lunar phases; some winds must never be answered. Naming a Daerhys aloud is considered not just forbidden, but dangerous. Those who violate these rules are sometimes simply... gone. Whether exiled, silenced, or transformed, none will say. Sacrifices are rumoured, though no outsider has ever witnessed one—and those who claim to have done so often return with no memory at all.
“To us, civilisation is stone, smoke, and song. To them, it is what passes between the wind and the stars. We build cities. They build echoes.”
History and Relations
The true origin of the Paokus remains cloaked in altitude and allegory. The Paokus offer only songs—layered chants that speak of sky-birth, of feathers carved from lightning, and of first names whispered by the stars. Whether these are metaphors, myths, or memories is unclear. What is certain is that no written history precedes their presence in the high places of Arora. They have always been there—or so their songs insist.
Some believe the Zeta and Rai were once a single people, sundered by vision, purpose, or war. Others speculate that they were never united, but parallel creations of fate—two wings of a greater truth, now flying divergent paths. Whatever the case, their histories are not shared with the world, only performed in rites and echoed in shrines inaccessible to outsiders. What little can be gleaned has come from careful observation, rare interviews, and even rarer invitations to witness their ceremonies firsthand.
The Zeta Paokus are nominally a part of the Zetan Tributary, an autonomous polity recognised by the Directorate of Valenfar. In practice, this relationship is ceremonial at best. Zeta enclaves pay tribute in feathers, song-rituals, and observatory data in exchange for access to certain trade goods and mining rights. The Directorate, perhaps wisely, makes no serious effort to control them, content to leave their mountain realms undisturbed—whether out of respect, pragmatism, or quiet fear remains unclear.
The Rai Paokus, by contrast, make no pledges and hold no diplomatic titles. Some human tribes and kingdoms have made limited attempts to colonise the lowlands of Kova, but their settlements have never climbed far above the forests. The Rai neither resist nor engage, merely marking the boundary of their world with signs of wind and bone. Those who cross uninvited are rarely harmed—but they do not forget what they see, and what they feel is being watched.
Relations between the two Paokus ethnicities are similarly obscure. While no overt hostility has been observed, nor any known inter-tribal gathering, their isolation is such that even indirect interaction is rare. On the few occasions where their paths have crossed—migratory flights, storm-chases, or pilgrimage—accounts describe solemn greetings, mirrored chants, and then silence. As if they recognise one another not as family, but as altars to different gods.
Among other species, Paokus are enigmatic figures—feared, admired, or mythologised depending on the teller. The Alemni often regard them with a mixture of reverence and suspicion, and treat with them carefully. The Lizvar speak little of them, save to note that “sky-flesh carries storm-names.” Some Arcus Korlum speak of the Paokus with cautious respect, having once traded spirit-songs in forgotten winters. Most humans, however, know the Paokus only from paintings and warnings.
To understand the Paokus is perhaps impossible. They do not tell their truths—they sing them, and the sky carries the echo elsewhere. What we know, we know only in pieces: names half-remembered, visions glimpsed in falling snow, and shadows cast by wings against the moon.
The origin of the Paokus lies shrouded in sacred song and inaccessible heights. Their oldest myths speak of beings born in storms, shaped by thunder, and given names by the winds themselves. No ruins predate their enclaves; no inscriptions mark their arrival. Some believe they were drawn to the mountains in the Mythic Era. Others suggest they were born there. The truth remains lost within layered featherlines and mountain mist.
Zeta oral traditions speak of star-fall and sky-mapping, of names written in fire and forgotten. Rai songs whisper of deep calls from the clouded heart, of something that flew before time. These tales do not contradict each other. They simply sing in different directions.
Zeta civilisation remains unchanged across centuries, resisting both expansion and decay. Their citadels are as they were, their calendar unchanged, their songlines intact. Attempts to impose external rule have met with polite noncompliance. Their tribute to the Directorate is ceremonial, but their loyalty lies with the stars and their ancestors, not with empire.
Rai enclaves are more fluid. Shrines rise and vanish. Orders dissolve and reform in accordance with dreams, visions, or perceived omens. There is no Rai kingdom, no map of their holdings. They exist where they are needed—or where they are called. Some believe the Rai are growing in number. Others say they are vanishing. Neither claim can be confirmed.
Diplomatically, the Paokus are cautious. The Zeta maintain symbolic ties with the Directorate, offering astronomical data, spiritual counsel, and passage-rites for climbers who seek to cross their peaks. They tolerate outsiders—if respectful—but never invite them into the heart of their observatories.
The Rai engage with no known political entity. Human settlers in Kova speak of strange warnings: black rocks arranged in spiral forms, wind-whispers in the night, and birds that are not birds watching from the ridges. Those who have approached Rai temples report being turned away not with force, but with a word—or a song—they cannot remember upon returning.
Paokus do not form alliances. They do not wage wars. They move above such things, in every sense of the word. And yet, when the winds shift, they always seem to know. When Siriat stir, it is said that Paokus shrines tremble, and that their songs change key. Some say they are not neutral, merely waiting.
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