Oarigowlu: the Vessel Storm

Water. The precious molecule that sustains life is foreign to the residents of Yatkaugo. Without the sturdy roots of plant life, the soil has no means to capture and store the liquid. Indeed, without sufficiently mountainous terrain, the Dead Wastes watch the clouds float innocently past towards the forests of Retrougo in the east. About thrice every decade, however, the waters are forced to descend upon the lifeless landmass. The warm currents of the Orayi Sea curl rise into droplets, and the breeze curls itself against the steep cliffs of Wlitowaru'u. The shear turns the entire ensemble into a mighty hurricane, and geography sends the great storm hurtling northwards.

The T'kakou and Dzjariae rejoice, for the rotation of the cataclysm prevents the water from escaping to their sister continent. The high winds are no stranger to the flat plains, but their sheer force and speed are just enough to worry the populace. The T'kakou dig for themselves small burrows, covered with tent fabric, in which they store their belongings. The soil in which they bury is so parched that the nomad's shelters never flood and force the tribespeople out into the harsh elements. The Dzjariae, whose culture forbids them from manipulating the ground, instead migrate to the north, where the gales cannot possibly reach them.

Both cultures leave their largest and heaviest pots and pans in the path of the disaster. The vessels fill with fresh rainwater. It is too hot for comfortable drinking at first, but the cool atmosphere of the north chills it to a perfect temperature. When the natural disaster finally leaves them, all nomads, from each culture, in unison, partake of the best drink one can acquire in these hostile wastes. Even those whose containers blow away or are destroyed share in the bounty, as neighbors allow them a cup's worth from their own. Thus the great calamity brings hope to the harsh terrain of Yatkaugo.