Ninurta's Stand

Cultural event

The mythologized battle between the last of the Ari and the Baphomet. The historicity of this event is heavily questioned but Ozwok believe it as the rebirth of the Ari into the Ozwok people.

The following entry is a paraphrased version of the Ninurtine epic or 'Epic of Ninurta" from one of Weiss the Wyld's many writings during his time in the Ari Badlands:  

One epic popular in Keather speaks of their folk hero Ninurta of the ancients. Ninurta was a great tracker in the Ari badlands that came back to Kitsch one day to see that his people were succumbing to an unknown plague. The houses of the folk in Kitsch has been closed and locked in fear of the disease. Ninurta, whose parents had succumbed to this plague, called into the night with a roar pleading with the folk of Kitsch to trust each other and dig a great moat the keep the plague away.
His journey west would lead him to many strange places and battle many great beasts: the deep imps, the featherless spearmen, the seabreathers, the warrior dragon and the chiefly baphomet. Only this great goatman bested him and had him cornered at a great dragon-lake. Nearly accepting defeat, Ninurta began to dig his own grave when alas a weapon was uncovered: a great morning star with teeth of water. It’s touch filled him with life and he raced back to his people only to find them nearly all desolated. Pursued by the Chief Baphomet, whose horns reach was rivaled only by that of his armies, challenged Ninurta to a final match to the death. Stricken by grief that even his mace could not cure, Ninurta obliged but plead for one day to bury his dead. During his burials, his mace spoke and pleaded with him to honor his family by sharing their burden; only then could he truly honor his fallen. Thus, he began to consume the fallen. He not only found that he did not fall ill, but was rejuvenated with a newfound strength. He began to consume all throughout the night and fastened the bones of his kin into armor and a totem he carried on himself burying the rest of the Kitschfolk. As morning arose, Ninurta traveled northwest to the Chief’s camp. The battle was fierce and personal; his bow ran dry, his sword grew dull, even his morning star began to falter. As the hoofed Chief reared back for the finishing blow on our hero, his eyes wandered to a maiden prisoner in his camp whose eyes glowed brilliant amber as the midday sun. He had forgotten his family and gazed down to his totem. Clutching it and his morning star in hand, he parried the killing blow with his family’s pride and returned the same to the chief’s head. Blood and water spewed from his mace and he freed the maiden he had taken captive. This maiden of the air agreed to wed Ninurta revealing she had buried her mace imbued with the gift of life. Her only condition was that her power of life was to be used to give back to the land and start anew where Ninurta’s people had failed. They furnished a great stone cauldron and cast the mace into its hull. An endless stream spewed from the tipped cauldron and filled the moat around Kitsch. Establishing a new community from the Chief’s camp and named after the maiden, Keather, was formed. Those born of their union became the Ozwok that rule the sands to this day.