Metanarrative: Cultural Section

Deep in the mountains, far below the base of Irrum Vath, sit the gates of Death. Though there are those that doubt its existence, there it sits nonetheless. It is a place thought to be many things. It is thought to be a place of torment for the damned. It is thought to be a place of bliss and reward for the virtuous. The truth, insofar as it can be gleaned, is something simpler. A circle of worshippers have long congregated in a small community around the doors, and in these latter days one of the most robust and diverse communities under the mountain has sprung up around their humble houses of worship. Here they preach their simple ideology: unfailing kindness in the face of assured mortality.
Though all the races have their own burial rituals, most of them are quick to welcome the presence of the death priests when one of their own passes. (No doubt it helps that these death priests have never demanded tithe or tribute in any form.) In the caverns and depths, there is no room for headstones to be laid out side by side, each remembering an individual and their story. Instead, the fallen are typically burned, and the death priests will endeavor to hear the histories of the departed and bring the community closure in their death, as in life. Prayers are offered for death in all forms, a blessing for a quiet death, a prayer for a noble death, and a wish for comfort in it. In the cold seasons, when crops wither and illness besets the people, the priests hold reveries to celebrate it, both an acknowledgment of death’s impending embrace and a ward against its early arrival, with food and warmth held to the hearts of those with no hope.
It is said that Death himself walks among those who gather around the gates of his abode. Not as a figure of great and terrible power, but instead as a half-remembered but fondly recalled neighbor who will freely mingle with mortals as if they were old friends. It is a fanciful story, certainly, but an enduring one among the peoples of the mountain.
Irrum Vath, though secluded from the dangers of the outside world, has its own dangers. More strange, wondrous, and terrible creatures than can be counted live in it’s endless twisting turns. Few are truly harmless, and many grow increasingly feral as the long years have gone by and magic has faded further. Due to this, the necessity of self defense has long been a critical focus for all the communities of Irrum Vath. The Kobolds, small in stature but mighty in number, form impenetrable ranks of shields and spear, forming legions that only the most mighty beasts could possibly penetrate. Their most capable warriors know that organization and cooperation is more formidable than any weapon they wield individually. Meanwhile, the Irra bear masterwork arms and armor of their own design. Their finest warriors compose a class of knights, historically seen as the most formidable protectors of Irrum Vath arrayed against it’s most dangerous threats. The Lymantria, fully capable of defending themselves with their own arcane creations, will also see fit to equip the other races with their tools in exchange for favors. And in the rare occasions that the Lymantria find a specimen of the undermountain worth their personal time, they descend in impersonal, well-oiled packs, bringing their strange technologies to bear in weird and wild displays of might. The native Bajir wielded handcrafted axes, spears, and bows made from obsidian and wood, The outlander Bajir, however, have brought their own new tools to the mountain; repeating crossbows, thick plated armor, and towering two-handed swords that even the proudest Irra knights struggle to lift properly.
The slow and inexorable death of magic has touched on every life in Irrum Vath. The most obvious influence has been the maddening of the magical creatures. Year by year, decade by decade, Irrum Vath has become a more dangerous place because of this. Only the Irra, and assumedly the Lymantria, remember a time when one could walk freely in the depths of the earth armed with nothing but a torch and curiosity and expect to return home unscathed. To the other races, this dangerous reality has always been so.
But the consequences of magic’s fading breath run deeper still. Long have the Irra relied on the powers of augury and prophecy, a link to the living pulse of the world itself, to guide their people. The weakening of magic has left them mired in greater uncertainty, for now, they must seek the wisest paths forward by their own ability. The Irra have struggled with this in different ways. Some have thrown themselves at the legalistic works of their forebears in hope of finding answers, while others dutifully recommit themselves to the task of keeping the peace and safety of the mountain for all races. The Kobolds too have noticed the weakened powers of their sages and spirit healers, though their industrious communities are arguably the most well equipped for a world where the old powers no longer function. The Bajir have noticed the quieting of their gods as well, though with their shorter lifespans they do not fully grasp the changes as the Irra do. The outlander Bajir have suffered consequences as well, as the cause of holy war so many of them defected from can be traced to the machinations of desperate gods competing for hemorrhaging power in distant lands. Even the Lymantria are not immune from these shifts, and it does not take supreme insight to see their increased presence in the markets and communities of the world as a sign of some new desperation.