-----= Spotlight: Salamander Cove =----- This is all taken from my original thread here - https://www.lustria-online.com/threads/nazquas-bestiary-and-lustrian-lore.24795/. If anyone has any idea's, criticisms or suggestions feel free to chuck them below. Spoiler: Contents ---= Location =--- ---= Introduction =--- --- Tale/Story --- ---= Geography and lands =--- --- Bay and Beach --- - Caves - - Coastal waters and reefs - ---= Flora =--- - Vines - - Beach grass - ---= Fauna =--- --- Birds --- - Gulls - - Pelicans - - Bats - - Turtles - - Crabs - - Salamanders - ---= Lizardmen interactions and presence =--- --- Housing and Society --- --- Leadership and Composition --- - Origins - - Slann - - Chief's - - Priest's - --- Temperament and warfare --- ---= Skills and importance =--- - Mapping - - Boat Crafting - - Fishing - - Taming - ---= Observances and tradition =--- - Worship and religion - - Appeasing of the Ocean - - Reverence to Itzl - - Remembrance of Pahaux - ---= Legends and Myths =--- - The scouring of Port Reaver - - The words of Lord Monuxyo - 'High Slann Mage priest Guardian of the Cove and Herald of Cilinuxla' before the second scouring of Port Reaver. ---= Location =--- Crimson - Domain of the Salamander Cove. ---= Introduction =--- --- Tale/Story ---We had arrived. Lustria. The land that had gripped the hearts and minds of so many with the wretched promises of riches n gold. Bullshit. Who needed to stumble upon riches when you can take them here for yourself, no danger required. 30 of the dogs, slaves, they can catch a good price here, and the Captin, he knew that alright. Port Reaver, the snobs and cutthroats would pay better than the shithole they called ‘Swamp town’ ever would - laughable place, wallowing in their own muck and misery! However, much to the captains displeasure a sudden storm had worked its way into our path, and at the threat of loosing all of our ship, and cargo too, we instead traced far off the coast unwilling to dare the shallow reefs. Eventually, with the currents help we arrived at one of the continents beautiful beaches. A cove, Nice n sheltered. I thought whilst we wait for the storm to bugger off we could always have pulled up some of the corals and sold em for a pretty penny back home. But once again, in all his overflowin confidence the captain decided we were going to see if we could make it to the good for nothin town on foot. And so, it was here we parked our rotting, rustin gallion crammed to the brim with its cargo - sweat, blood and tears, three things which would sell for a lot around here in these ‘needing’ parts. Feeling solid ground beneath the feet never felt so good and confidence was high - So here we were, splitting up into groups and ready to see what these sheltered shores had in store for us. Me and three others were off to scout along the coasts, Captain was goin to see how far Swamp Town and then Port Reaver was whilst Harold and his men were heading further up the cliffs to investigate… You see, a few hours prior we had noticed some houses, or rather shacks clinging to the clifftop as if their life depended on it. They were strange they were, but amongst ourselves we had decided they were the work of some hermit who had enough of swamp town and its shit - Ripe for the pickin in my eyes, If Harold brought back news we were certainly willin to drag the slaves up and waltz are way in no problem. --- The day was long, and the walk back longer. However, upon our return the ship, the ship was gone. THE WHOLE LOT OF IT. GONE. The beach was tattered with splinters of wood. A handful of bodies scattered beneath the fallen remains of our beloved vessels mast! Those cursed little wretches had stolen our boat! Furious, we kicked at the sand, we yelled at the waves. Tensions were high and Captain had no luck in finding anything, Harold hadn’t even bloody returned. I knew one thing was for sure, the Captain’s leadership was falling apart, Man bloody wouldn’t shut up just like the clouds of little bloodsucking buggers which now swarmed around us, buzzin and blurrin like the little devil born tormentors they were - rubbing in our loss with such glee. With nothing but two barrels of useless gunpowder and half a barrel of biscuit bread we set about making a camp. We would face no other choice than to wait out the night here. Fuming with heavy breaths the captain persisted we should go and take shelter in the coves caves, escape from the storm - one which was now raging almost as much as he was - but we decided differently. The shadows, they didn’t seem right.. Im not a superstitious person, sellin slaves n all, but it.. It wasn’t right, I knew that much. Captain however decided he knew better as always - and went off into the night. Ignoring his antics the tiredness of the day had caught up with the rest of us, sending our motley crew of crooks and sailors towards the sanctuary of fire light where we could rest our flaming nerves and forget the toils of the days ahead. - Fire. One mans sanctuary, Another's doom. Harold however still hasn't returned, but none of us had the right mind to go an look for him - Besides, selfish backstabbin gits probably found the shelters empty and took them for their own… --- I woke to the sound of hissing. The coals on the fire, they were still warm to the touch but had been out for some time now - The woods white embers hissing and spitting in a fruitless attempt to rekindle itself. A display of stars unrivaled by anything I had ever seen before full in session I went out about gathering some more tinder and fuel for the fire using the dim moonlight as my torch - Better this than have to suffer the bloodsuckers all night long. In the twisting half light the coves shadows and caves spilled out, taking up the opportunity to eat the beach in their darkness - The air ruffling with the movement of their children, bats. Ignoring the sound of my own beating heart I persuaded myself the sounds of shuffling movement were merely the lapping of the tide. I too had somehow convinced myself that those pads n prints in the sand were from our horses - Even though I was so blind as to not realize they, the horses, had been taken with the ships, perhaps it was wishful thinking in this groggy state of half sleep. Tired and dreary I continued looking for a patch of younger palms that would be easy to light. Scrounging noisy through the bush I had began gathering up a couple hunks of driftwood… That's when I found them: Harold, Lambert and Curt… Their bodies had been slumped in a pile as if they were dead slaves themselves whilst their heads had been gruesomely stabbed through with a wooden spike now planted in the sand as some twisted effigy much to my horror. Screaming I began to scramble back to the campfire only to see that the fires had in fact relit themselves... However, my screams, my yells - They were not only ones! And those were not campfires at all! Frozen in my horror I was forced to watch as at least seven savage four legged beasts descended on the camp, splitting the darkness in a whirlwind of blinding flame and flare. Their reptilian handlers shouting alien words in a cruel language and tongue before their shimmering eyes eventually met my own. Perhaps it was bad luck. Perhaps it was what fate had willed for me, what was written in those stars crammed above - Or even perhaps some form of celestial justice for my actions, for my career.. It however mattered not to them. Foaming at the mouth I begged. I screamed. I scrambled and raged. I was given not the mercy I had refused from others. Bound and tied my body was hung upon a post besides the forms of my allies. Some cried out in agony whilst some remained silent - I wanted to believe they remained so out of terror, but knew the much worse alternative was true. I was a person no longer - But a sign. A flaming beacon. A blaring bright message to all those that would dare to encroach upon these lands, one that sent the night fleeing in brightness and intensity. And as the next morning rolled around the storm clouds had begun to part letting the smell of burnt, singed flesh waft further along such golden sands. The sun awakening to the sight of gulls bickering at the melted heaps of flesh and bone which lay slumped beneath a number of charred wooden poles. The lizardmen of the Salamander Cove had done just work that night. - One of many such tales, wherein warmbloods have dared to trespass the salamander cove, bringing with them their filth - filth that must be burnt away, the beaches and reefs allowed to be spared from the greedy eyes and grasp of humanity. And so it is, once you have come to overlook the threats which loom and lurk the Salamander cove appears to be one of the more idyllic locations on Lustria. That is if one allows themselves to become engulfed in the seeming paradise to such extends that they bat a blind eye to all manor peril in whatever form it takes: Whether that be toxic plants disguised and woven into the beaches like any other, those twisting, hissing shadows which lie behind veils of darkness and rock or catching the keen eye of the violent lizardmen whom travel down from their clifftop abodes to spearfish in the shallows. Each and every an equally unpleasant way to meet ones end. Frothing waves gently crash and splutter, rolling up shorelines of golden sand before receding back into the churning, yet softly flowing coastal waters of the cove. A relaxing rhythm of continuous lapping becomes the backdrop from forth which the jungle orchestra plays in a monotony of buzzes and tweets. Such tune;s however, come evening, when the hazy sun drifts across a cloudless sky towards the defined horizon become interrupted, their symphony polluted and overshadowed with endless howls and hoots echoing from the neighboring Jungles of the Jaguar. ---= Geography =--- --- Bay and beach --- It is here, sheltering behind prevailing cliffs which guard these gentler shores from Lustria’s horrors does a gateway between worlds lie. A window and a mirror, one that stretches out into the infinity of the world pond untainted by intrusion from the brackish clusters of mangroves and shifting sludges of the nearby Aymara swamps. Where the canopy opens up to reveal the sky and the soil degrades to great swathes of golden tinted sand which bathes in the reflection of a lazy orange sun huge palms rise up. Each one towering between an audience of driftwood - Sun-kissed branches who sit upon the sands as visitors, resting from their world spanning travels as they watch the gentle breeze swaying the trees above as if they were but babies getting rocked to sleep. - Such Flora acting as the negotiators and translators between the spanning oceans within which the Citallo reefs thrive and the notorious Jungles of the Jaguar. ‘Simple and serene’ these beaches will remain for the unwary, the naive and more often than not... The doomed. A stretch of golden beach provides the bridge between the dense Jungles of the Jaguar and Pahualaxa, inviting many a warmblood onto the shores of a damned paradise. - Caves - The aforementioned cliffsides, those which serve to guard the cove and its inhabitants are however not the loyal defenders some may first be lead to believe - For between their great rocks a creeping, crawling darkness thrives. For now at least in the day it remains restrained to the crags in the cliffface, its shifting shadows restrained to the many gloomy hollows and dank grottos which littler the beaches rocky surroundings. However, more than just shadows lie make their home within these caves. A fact made evident from the many hisses and grunts which are echoed forth, the sound of each twisted through so many soaked passageways and dampened vents before finally being spat out that they are warped to such unnatural extends as to be alien, unceremoniously breaking the monotonous drum of drips which otherwise permeate these sodden tunnels. If one thought they would enjoy these beaches alone, they were wrong. If not for the noises the occasional sight of flickering yellow eyes will let them know soon enough. To tread too deeply into these caverns - which splay out like the roots of a tree, as if veins of some larger organism - is to forget that light and the outside ever existed. The darkness itself acts as if it were alive, an invisible force which serves to crush the bodies of any who venture too far within, squeezing the life, soul and hope out of them... Many gaping caverns are carved out into the cliff faces, their darkness concealing much more than the rock and water which coats their twisting interior. - Coastal waters and reefs -Where warm waters flow softly, the currents rich with nutrients spewed forth from the Aymara swamps many corals cluster on the rocky seabed of the Salamander coves shallows. Eels slither and writhe between rocky formations whilst crabs send up a spray of sand in their wake - Above which rays of light filter between the colorful thrills of a salamander as it swims down to scramble and pry starfish and urchins from the rocks. Nearby, half eaten and spat out by the jagged sea bed looms the wooden frame of some long sunken ship, its rotten and charred planks painted over and built anew as if they were a canvas of colour to be painted upon by mother nature. The deck of this great galleon had been thriving with labor and toil in its life, and now, in its death it would be provided no such relief, becoming hornets nest of marine activity. Reaching up as if it to escape the watery depths to which they are doomed many great posts and sails stretch up, low tide providing them with purpose - Allowing them to serve as a reminder, one now carved and consumed into the landscape, of the fate which awaits those who dare disturb this paradise. Storm-birds - born of the wind, one might suppose, as seaweed of the water - rise and fall around them like gentle waves they skim. However, like all things, such relief is temporary for come high tide the ship in its entirety must once again be consumed by the waves - when the water arrives in her reassuring way, soothing the sand and allowing the rock pools to refill as if it is her joy, arriving as rain to a desert, giving a gift never repaid. Ironic. A locus of life built upon and between the rusting remains of a vessel long dead and the bleached bones of its doomed crew.
---= Flora =--- Aside from the singularly striking beauty that plants and flora provide - forming a flowing transition which helps to ease the otherwise colliding aquatic and terrestrial words - they also serve as crucial parts of the cove’s flourishing ecosystem. Being among the first forms of life to conquer and inhabit the otherwise empty beaches and coastal dunes these plants serve as a threshold, an anchor for life to work its way in. Where they grow and thrive, animals will soon no doubt follow. Once a handful of plants have taken root the sands begin to stabilize, slowly and gradually at first, picking up pace with time, until eventually the hostility of the beach environment is shaved away. An act which leaves it ripe for animal life, the plants serving as a habitat to provide basic shade and nesting material all the while offering camouflage safety to some and food to others. Without a doubt the Salamander Cove would be not nearly as beautiful - Both in appearance and diversity if these plants were otherwise lacking. - Vines - Inorder for any beach environment to even dream of becoming an established one it must first employ and persuade a number of sand vines to crawl down from the cliffs. Fanning out, like the roots of a tree, these runners split and stretch across the Salamander Coves sandy surface - securing themselves down to command the shifting sands to stabilize before blooming in flowers equally vibrant and colourful as the corals. It is these plants which once paved the way for a multitude of other beach flora to similarly thrive - therein making the cove and the animals in it ever indebted to their service. A number of railroad vines creep down to reach across the dunes, bending the otherwise shifting sand to their will which in turn allows for further flora to begin seeping in. - Beach Grass -In a silent reflection of the sea grass which coats the otherwise ragged and rocky coastal waters, Sea oats too blanket those dunes which bank up the cliff. Great swathes of this beach grass anchored deep in the sand with twisting roots provide a billowing, swaying bastion for life - A fact made soon evident by the squeaks of beach mice or the more foreboding hisses and grunts of salamanders taking shade coming from within. Patches of strewn sea oat and beach grass anchor to the sands as their golden blades sway in the setting sun.
---= Fauna =--- With beach environments changing as often as the tide, quite literally, they tend to be inhospitable only serving few animals - The salamander cove’s terrestrial shores are no exception. To insects its sands become great flooded deserts, in the eyes of smaller mammalian mouses the dunes are mazes of knotted sand grass whilst to crabs the sandy sludges and rock pools are ripe feeding grounds. This cove however owes its name, and reputation to a beast far larger - The salamander. Come evening, when light begins to dim, retreating from the cliffs do they come alive with a chorus of shrill clicks and hisses. From forth the caves crawl great amphibian beasts, their webbed feet leaving heavy prints in the sand as their vibrantly thrilled forms slither into the water, fins slitting the frothing waves before gliding off into the corals. --- Birds ---Whilst the cove is harsh to terrestrial animals, birds however find no such peril in making their home upon the rocky cliff sides and shores of the Salamander Cove. Beaches across the continent and world support vast varieties of bird species, ranging from small sand pipers to large pelicans - And this cove is no exception. - Gulls - Scavengers at heart gulls whip through the salty air with agility, swooping down to snatch fish and crabs who have failed to take shelter within the rockpools and watery alcoves. Filling the air with a rhapsody of squarks many gulls squabble and bicker over scraps of food, watching with inquisitive eyes as to see when opportunity arises. Unlike most birds, Gulls instead choose to make their nests on the ground, hiding them within the dense grass of the sand dunes where they will defend them fiercely - Some supposedly daring to even scare off curious or hungry salamanders to intrude too close. - Pelicans -Flying high above the gulls the Salamander Coves pelicans will dabble in no such quarrel - Instead spending their time scouring the coastal waters for stray fish, soaring over the water with elegance and outstretched wings which can rival some of the Lustria’s pterosaurs in size, occasionally stretching over 3 meters in wingspan. However the most notable skill of these pelicans aside from their size is their fishing prowess - To which end they possess many adaptations, The most notable of which is the larch pouch or gullet used to capture fish. An astray pelican rests its wings under a sky lit alight in the colours of dusk. - Bats - Come night, when darkness treads forth from the caves to engulf and eat the cove many bats fly forth in a great flutter of wings, whipping the air into a squeaking frenzy. Having spent a long day dreaming within their cocoons of leathery wing these bats launch and herl themselves from the water-logged cavities and caves of the clifface out into the evening air - Whilst some are invariably snapped up by squirming salamanders or coiled snakes most will make it out into the starlit night, wherein which they will ride the cool coastal breezes in their search for insects in both the jungles above and sands below. --- Turtles --- These cove’s also see an influex of activity in some of the most unsuspecting and silentest of nights. Whilst warmbloods dream a continent away great migrations of turtles stream into the cove in a fierce competition to claim the best territory to lay their eggs - Burying their nests deep within the sand and out of the clutches of any salamander or bird hoping to claim such a feast. Months later, when those nests are unearthed once more by the hatchlings born within them another migration will be taken - A journey to the water, and one that will decide their fate at that. (See a complete Fauna Profile on Turtles within the up coming ‘Citallo reefs’ Location Spotlight) A resting turtle basking the golden sunlight of a peaceful evening. Above a blanket of black clouds brew - This night will be long. --- Crabs --- With there being over 6,500 known crab species across the globe, these crustaceans are an extremely diverse group of animals - One that has easily carved out its niche and name in the Salamander cove, both as a creature to be respected, feared and caught. Come dawn and dusk all manor of species crawl around and within the coves frothing waters, discretely scuttling between rock pool sanctuaries in search of prey. Appearance and locomotion: The sight of a crab is one most notable and a familiar image within the society of coastal lizardmen populations. Each kind of crab has a unique appearance that separates it from all others of their kind. In general however crabs possess a rounded body that varies in texture as much as it does in colour - Some are smooth, rivaling even the corals in terms of vibrancy and colour, whereas others are covered in spiny protrusions which cling to seaweed and gather detritus, serving to aid in both camouflage and protection. A well known feature of these crustaceans is their exoskeleton - An outer layer of hard, chitinous material that protects the crab for most of its life. However, due to the fact that its exoskeleton can’t grow the crab, much like a snake, must shed in order to do so. In terms of locomotion, the familiar sidelong gait seen in common shore crabs is shared with most members of the group - However, certain species posses flattened paddle-shaped legs used to much use in swimming - an ability which helps them stay clear of the bird patrolled surfaces, allowing them to traverse the reefs in relative safety. Hunting and diet: Lerching and swaying across the sea floor crabs crawl forth form their rocky hide away to search for food - darting out to grab a shrimp of fish that strays too near their burrow. Crabs are omnivores and primarily scavengers - defined not by a single diet nor niche, and able to eat all manor of algae, mollusks, fish and smaller crabs. And yet, despite their formidable claws and hard outer shell - They remain an abundant, and preferred food for many animals. Vulnerable to predatory fish, octopuses and any birds which spy one which has lingered from the safety of the water for too long, the seemingly appealing sandy sludges of the shoreline reveal themselves as a perilous environment - the steps within often being the last for many a crab. A large hermit risks the beach - Relying on its fierce pincers and intimidating shell to disencourage any birds attempting for a free meal. Behaviour/Social: When looking into a group so diverse with such an abundance of differing species it should be obvious that a range of lifestyles and behaviors have developed between them. Some crabs live solitary existences, only meeting with other crabs when its time to mate. Others however live in large groups - thriving between the corals and currents as one. In general crabs are shy creatures - Running from danger or backing themselves up between rocks wherein which they can make use of their iconic pincers. Certain species such as the Coconut crab possessing pincers powerful enough to break an unfortunate warmblood or skinks finger - Coconut crabs too take advantage of their large size in order to prey on smaller animals such as iguana’s, mice or even birds. A coconut crab lumbers across the foliage of the ground, taking shade beneath the shadows of a palm cluster. Though no crab is truly parasitic, many come close, living commensurately with other animals. One example being the minuscule pea crab, often referred to as the ‘sand grain crab’ which spends its life hidden from view, hidden within the shells of mussels and other mollusks which are common occurrence and sight, clinging the Salamander Cove’s rocks in a waving sea of brittle shell. Many sluggish spider crabs cover their shells with growing seaweeds and sponges, affording them effective disguises. A minuscule pea crab rests on the surface of a muscle - clutching to its shiny black surface as to avoid being swept away, cast out like little more than a grain in the tides. Reproduction: Male crabs will often use their pincers to attract a mate. This is especially common in species that have one very large claw, or pincer - its size and strength serving for more than show as some species will also fight one another over a female and mating rights. Once hatched, the crab larvae cling to the tail of their mothers before they become able to swim freely - detaching themselves to swim freely and join the plankton in the water. As in most crustaceans, the young of nearly all crabs, when newly hatched from eggs, are very different from the parents - only achieving adulthood and the form that comes with it through progressing past a number of vital moltings - wherein which it casts off its skin, its body and limbs developing afterwards. Relationship with lizardmen: Crabs are an icon and sight within daily life among the lizardmen of the Salamander cove, being treated as such. It is rare such creature’s will receive more attention for more than their usefulness or ability to provide food. One of the more notable uses among the Xahala, those lizardmen who inhabit the cove and the surrounding region, is that of their carapace. In a place where the god of shells reigns high in reverence combined with an undoubted abundance of shelled animals it should come as no surprise that chieftain’s and warriors have found a use for their carapaces as armour to be worn instead of steel - The plate’s of many a crab hammered and chipped into shape by master craftsmen as to fit a warrior better than any metal. Skink hunters need not waste or discard the carapace of many crabs, instead offering them up to serve a higher purpose as armour, each one becoming as a scale would in scale mail. Such suits of armour provide skinks not only protection and armour, for the many seaweed ridden spike’s and textures of what has come to be known as ‘crab coat’ aid in camouflage, but also intimidation - Warmbloods fleeing in fear upon seeing such savage skinks arise from the murky rock pools where they had been waiting in ambush, sending up a spray of water soon to be turned red with the blood of their foes.
---= Lizardmen interactions and presence =--- Many who are initially struck by the beauty of the Salamander Cove miss one of its more crucial, yet concealed features. Tucked away they watch.clinging to the cliffs they peer down. Concealed by the darkness of caves they lurk. Here stands the Kahoun of the Cove, of the Xahal. Inconspicuous structures of stone blend into the grey granite cliff face - around which many a hut of thatch and wood lie, their surfaces weaved with vines and growth as if they were not born from lizardmen at all, but instead no different from the corals and their architects. However, such an assumption would be one all together wrong - and deadly. - Kahoun of the Xahala - Spoiler: Defintion - Kahoun Nestled between the open clifftops and jungle’s lies this lizardmen settlement. Making use of the natural terrain the structures are composed of lumber and wood - However, laying the foundations for what would be the central plaza are many carved stone blocks, weathered and ancient enough to merge into the landscape as if they had always belonged. However they are far from it, serving purpose in holding up the central cluster of more permanent structures built from stone sparling. Said temples and shrines however don't dare rise up taller than the rocky outcrop they lean against, their interiors instead sinking down and carved into the ground. Whilst these are no monstrous monoliths of ancient times long past it is clear much effort and consideration has been taken into their placement - both defensively and the way in which the many other buildings splay out from them, as if they were the trunk and the other buildings the roots. This is the heart of this Kahoun. Whilst most of the stone structures stand slanted, weary from years of the elements and the toll construction and repairs have taken on them - One remains tall. No effort nor splendor spared upon its building or maintenance. The foundations of such a building mine deep into the side of the clifface, connecting it to the many cavities and caves within, the rock having once been raw with the effort of its carving. If it wasn’t clear already, this is no this is no temple to revere gods long passed - But instead a Star Chamber, within the central grotto of which the Kahoun’s soul lord slumbers. The towering star-chamber and more permanent stone structures that make up the heart of this settlement, the significance of which can be not seen, but felt in their mere presence. This building marks the center and pinnacle of this settlement - The rest of the Kahoun devolving into more primitive forms of thatch and wood as stretched further out as if it were this building itself that evolved and advanced the constructions and not the labour of those living with at all. The main ‘village’ so to speak is split into two main areas - The primary two of which are obvious, with each being divided from one another by a carved out gash in the land - Isolating the first and most prominent of area’s (Housing and shelter) from the others by having it placed it on a clifftop island all to its own. Strenuously bound to the rest of the settlement by a number of suspended bridges of rope and vine it is upon this pillar of incredibly defensible land that the Kahoun’s center of stone rears up as an artificial cliff - albeit one dwarfed by those designed by mother nature. Around this heart of the settlement swarms a bastion of housing safe from the intrusion of any beast or outsider. However, unlike human structures - These shelters are not composed of many smaller buildings, but instead take form as a number of huge long houses. Each able to support an entire cohort of skinks, serving as communal sleeping quarters and a place of refuge from the days toils and labors. A difference enabled by the unity of the Xahala and their society - The lizardmen within having no such quarrel with sharing their living space with others for the betterment of not only their tribe mates and spawn brothers - but for the lizardmen empire and civilisation as a whole. Small in number, but great in size these wooden constructions are held upon great trunks - ladders and pathways leading down towards the central plaza wherein which a firepit ceaselessly burns, the sight of smoke almost always complimented by the sounds of skinks socializing. The way in which the Kahoun is divided Spoiler: Additional Pictures The communal long houses Such sounds however find themselves drowned out by the hammering of labours and effortus shouts. For across from the cliff and on the mainland all manor of task is undergone - This the second area of the Village, one composed of crafting guilds, beast handling districts and the areas from forth which hunting parties and patrols are launched. The air reverberates with the sound of sizzling, hammering, and the chittering clicks of skinks - Sounds which are all interrupted by the occasional great grunts and bellows of effort as kroxigors toil with tools of stone. The smell of cooking fish and smoke permeates this half of the villadge - the gentle cove breeze wafting the columns overhead to dissolve into the air. The sight of racks of drying lobsters and crabs is not uncommon - as is the case with baskets of spears and tools. Nearby rise cage’s and enclosures, the surrounding buildings and intermingled trees each providing them with a wide berth - And for good reason too, for within lounge a number of collared salamanders. If the stone star chamber and temples were the heart of this Kahoun they certainly weren’t the one’s beating - For here the air itself echoes with a faint hum of unceasing labour, one which has been present ever since its construction all those long years ago. Like any other Lizarmden, the Xahala are hard workers to the core if not even more so than their city dwelling brethren - And as for the evidence? Look around. Born not from the magics of their gods nor in timeless centuries stand this Kahoun, its every structure having risen forth from the soil and rock under the will of a singular Slann - A high priest of the 4th generation. Lord Monuxyo - ‘Guardian of the Cove herald of Cilinuxla Some skinks stir great dishes of food. Other flake the bark off of wooden trunks, their kroxigor brethren fiercely stabbing them into the ground as palisades. The sound of axes at work against the wood of jungle tree’s echoes, acting as the base from which the sound of scrambling footprints pit and patter as if they were no different from the rain soon to come from ominous clouds. Small patrols scurry down the cliffside paths as they Scout the beaches for anything.. Or anyone, of interest. Meanwhile more specialised groups venture into the nearby Jungles of the Jaguar to forage, others of a similar nature doing the same duty but for the beaches - Their number clambering up the cliffside, in one hand clutching sharpened spears still dripping with blood, and in the others baskets of fish and crabs. - Beach -However, despite the hornets nest of activity that is the Kahoun above - its nature reflecting that of the thriving corals below, the skinks shoals of fish and kroxigors patrolling sharks swimming in and among the works they have made. - The beaches' sacred sands remain devoid of structure, a comparative wasteland wherein which nature reigns. Although.. To say that the beach was completely and utterly empty would be a lie, or well a half truth. Peering out of the shadows of the cliff caves are occasional walls of dried lumber or ruble, their existence taking a person most perceptive or brave to be noticed. It is here the Xahala store a number of supplies: Be they skillfully crafted canoes and boats or baskets and barrels of produce and stock free from the suns harsh gaze or prying eyes of intruders for more than mere meters of rock conceal them, but also the many wild salamanders which slink and nest between the shadows - acting as natural guardians which no warmblood would willingly face nor threaten. --- Leadership and Composition --- Whilst a Kahoun generally holds few in population compared to the lizardmen’s thriving cities 1800 lizardmen is nothing to underestimate. Especially when considering their determination and skills in survival and gorilla warfare. The Xahala are mainly composed of skinks, their number split between cohorts divided by their differing professions and skills. Although, kroxigors too deserve recognition for their efforts and importance despite their lacking number - a fact which often results in skinks having to share the roles the other two species would more often undertake such as heavy lifting, construction and warfare. - Origins - Whilst the origins and ancestry of these lizardmen has often come to be somewhat of an enigma, the group claim to have arisen forth from Pahaux following the great exodus of the city in which their Slann master left. It is then, lying low from the demonic incursions did they enact his will in securing and scouting the coastlines - a crucial role which served to bolster the knowledge and survival of Hexoatl, the last remaining bastion this north side of the continent. Supposedly once the the great catastrophe had began to settle so too did this group, standing by their slann who deemed it necessary to keep watch along the coasts, thus establishing as a the dominant group therein - A haven to which those passing through the heavily trafficked region could seek aid. Only in recent years has the Kahouns population swollen to such sizes as the threat of warmbloods and their footholds becomes ever greater - Their Slann becoming more active in recent centuries. As for how they replenish their numbers the Xahala have claimed a number of the spawning pools within the eastern side of Pahaux, allowed permission by Hexoatl, the Kahouns so called ‘parent’ city - In return for which the Xahala offer more than just occasional supplies and crucial information regarding the coasts, but they too keep open many channels of communication and trade between the Isthmus and main continent not to mention providing the City of Ash with their attention and protection - Keeping strong ties and levels of communication with the chameleon skink guerilla’s who also simulary seek to guard the city, the two groups occasionally launching coordinated strikes or efforts to such ends. - Slann - The undivided ruler and leading Slann mage chief and priest of the Xahala is Monuxyo, an active lord of the original 5th generation. However, through his proof of worth in setting up this thriving settlement, remaining a stout guardian of Pahaux and sentinel of the eastern coasts - aiding in the defenses from the demonic incursions therein - feats many consider worthy in the eyes of the Oldones themselves, as such allowing him to ascended to that of the 4th generation. Lying low, Monuxyo lead his lizardmen forth from the city of ash in secrecy, where he then directed his numbers of skinks and sauri to fight the fires which still raged across the region all the while simultaneously holding council with Hexoatl, reporting crucial activity along the Eastern coasts. It was then, as the great catastrophe threatened to extinguish the flame that was the lizardmen civilization he was among the few slann who had decided to begin devising and later establishing great region spanning traps, which would ‘seek’ out any warp entities, sending entire daemonic legions howling back into the void from forth which they had crawled out in an aurora of light which could be seen flashing long throughout the nights, a hauntingly eerie reminder.It is through these endeavours and many more in recent times that the lord of the Salamander Cove has earned a great deal of influence and respect from High priest of Hexoatl, Mazdamundi who holds Monuxyo’s frequent displays of intuition, cunning and actions against the warmblood trespassers in high regard, the two Slann sharing interpretations of the great plan and opinions about the necessity of purging of the mortal races. As such Mazdamundi provides him with not only authority for the management and oversight of these coastal regions but also the aforementioned access to a number of the spawning pools within Pahaux and a handful of the artifacts found therein. A great responsibility even for a Slann, but one that Lord Monuxyo has proved himself worthy of time and time again through the form of consistent cooperation with the City of the sun and their lords - to whom he often relays information, allowing them to act out through him and his established coastal population. The interor entrance of Lord Monuxyo's Star-Chamber carved deep into the earth - Chiefs - Each of the Xahala tribe’s cohorts has an assigned and elected skink chief who leads and directs his peoples for the betterment of the Kahoun and civilization as a whole. Highly skilled and practiced in the area of their cohorts expertise, be that beast handling, combat or survival each of these leaders serve as an invaluable asset to the tribe in keeping its constant cogs of activity progressing - Each individual having earnt their title with respect and practice, being the embodiment of the ancient saying “Do not fear the one who has learned 1,000 concepts once, but fear he who has learned one concept 1,000 times” - Priests -Like all other lizardmen societies, the Xahala too has its priests and magi - Skinks attuned to the winds of magic and the arcane. The main practitioners of which command the tide’s and waters of the bay whilst too serving their role as emissaries and deliverers of their Slanns word to the rest of the tribe. However, despite their loyalties, a high proportion of these priests are also found amongst the ranks of the Cult of the Lost - Journeying to hold a secretive council at the nearby Monument of the moon with the rest of their brethren much to the dismay of their lord, a testament to their will and faith in Metzlitlaco, The supposed third serpent, forgotten Old one of the lost and the moon.
--- Temperament and warfare ---Despite their seeming benevolence the communal society of the Xahala lizardmen are for from it to all but their own kin. Deep in the darkness of their slitted black eyes is a viciousness and predatory instincted that could only be linkened to that of the salamanders and sharks who traverse the waters within their cove. If any warmbloods are present - It will be the patrols who first spot them long before they themselves have had a chance to be seen. From the safety and silence of the treeline and dunes information will be gathered before the group retreats, dissolving into the undergrowth as if they were little more than a discernible breeze. However, it is from this point forth the beating of the warmbloods hearts becomes the countdown for their executions - If they do not rid themselves from these lands come night fall then they will soon suffer. The Kahnoun and its population are territorial to the fullest extent of the word - Coming to be fiercely aggressive to all warmblooded outsiders out of a near necessity. Rather than rampaging wildy - The Xahala instead linger, wait, watch. Lying low they only attack when the time is right and when the odds are within their favor - two of the many reasons as to why they are renowned for being so successful, and altogether horrifying to face in combat. As night descends and the shadows wallow, opening up in the land like scars and wounds do they crawl forth descending on the trespassers with organisation and cunning. Such are the extents of their expertise that it has not been an uncommon sight to watch as their number dispatch entire galleons worth of warmblooded crew in quick succession. Salamanders as seen ridding the lands of Warmblooded taint in cleansing fire, which splits the night causing the air to shiver with both heat and the shrills calls of the creatures themselves. However, It many warmbloods do not suffer such a fate - Their singular savour: Fear. And for good reason too, In their mercilessness the Lizardmen of the Salamander Cove have found use for those fallen foe’s in the construction of many twisted, yet no doubt successful, effigies and altars within which no grusemoness is too great. Shattered skulls are hollowed and lit alight with candles. Dead faces embedded deep into spikes stare out into the souls of intruders, the mouths of which scream out in their eternal torment. Bundles of rotting arms and hands reach up from the soil, basking in the stench of putrid flesh, serving as a beacon to all manor of fly. Spoiler: Effiges [Slightly Gruesome] Great writhing swarms of insects mark the presence of such horrid effigies. One would have to be both mad and foolish to press on further. --- Skills and Importance ---Despite the Kahoun being viewed as primitive by city dwelling outsiders due to its lack of permanent architecture and sparing stone use the true proficiency of these lizardmen come in the form of more than just their determination, but also their individual skills and knowledge of the local area. - Mapping - Like many other smaller Lizardmen settlements and tribes it is the responsibly of Xahala to map their immediate locations. However, what ascends their duty is the way in which they have charted the great swathes of land surrounding the Eastern Coastline and its shores. Each footpath and trade route highlighted and made distinct in their scrawling - A resource which has been deemed as invaluable time and time again by the many who cross between the Ismuths and the Main continent - Allowing planning through said regions being far far easier than it would otherwise be, not to mention its value by those who hail to the lands in search of the Temple of Huanchi in the bordering Jungles of the Jaguar, the Xahala being among the few to have its location recorded. - Boat crafting - If being master woodworkers in their own right was not enough, the Xahala are the producers of some of the finest boats and coastal canoes these shores have ever seen. Renowned for their endurance and ability to withstand all that storms and time can throw at them a boat originating from the Salamander cove is one easily recognizable due to not only their well treated wood, but also the way in which they gather fierce ware and tear from their many years of long service, able to withstand as much neglect as any can throw at them. - Fishing -Out of necessity as much as location the Kahoun of the Xahala have come to be adept at coastal foraging and the specifics of all involved. Furthermore, it is more than diligence and mere information that the Xahala provide to Hexoatl, the City of the Sun - For the Kahoun serves as one of the primary feeder settlements, meaning they fish not only for themselves but also its huge population, as such occasional wagons are sent out lugging great hauls of recent catch - Entire nets of fish and carts of crabs being greeted by the cities open arms. Back on the sands of the cove come dawn small bands of skinks wrestle with the rocks as they dive down to place many eel and lobster catchers within their crags. Likewise, many a group of hunters descend from the cliffs with a solitary task and purpose - The gathering of food: The completion of which calls them to retrieve small boats from the caves, vessels to be use as the platforms from which they can cast out great nets into the coves deeper thriving waters. It is however not just such groups which benefit from the coves abundances, but too the Xahala’s roving war bands which as a result need not bring rations with them due to the proficiency they possess spearfishing, able to use their weapons to such ends just as equally as combat - Plunging them into the waters in hopes of catching a shoal off guard, their weapon more often than not resurfacing with a squirming fish impaled on its end which can be eaten raw as a meal on the go. - Taming -Taming. A word spoken commonly amongst the peoples of this Kahoun and cove, as such the three horned Ruler of cold-blooded beasts - Itzl, is greatly revered to the Xahala as too are his abundant children: Salamanders. Afterall, the place is named after them. Dense in opportunity as much as it is with the beasts themselves many amature beast caste skinks hail from cities far flung to gain the Wisdom and Knowledge of the Xahala in suchskills and expertise now passed down from spawning to spawning by salamander tamers too old to work out in the perilous field. However, the dangers of such could even be deemed as overestimated due to the sheer skill of those beast handlers who work within the Xahala’s number, these skinks knowing the every quirk and trick of the beasts to which they have devoted their life’s work to. As such the Kahoun has too become known for its dealings in the beast trade, claiming the crown in terms of being the main distributor of Salamander’s to the rest of the lizardmen civilization. ---= Observances and tradition =--- Living in an environment and society where a productive mentality has become the cornerstone of life and food and resources can be found in relative abundance too has its downsides - One of which is the toll taken on the amount of tradition and spirituality the Xahala lizardmen posses. - Worship and religion - Although not being regarded as superstitious nor as previously mentioned, particularly spiritual, the lizardmen of the Salamander Cove still posses a great appreciation and awareness of their Old one’s like any of their kind, their population going through occasional effort to enact great references and celebrations in their name. - Appeasing of the Ocean - I wont be going into detail about this observance in particular given its popularity among coastal based lizardmen populations - and its position in being ensured to come up sometime in the future I still believe it deserves a mention given its prominence within Xahala culture: Often occurring during the days within which great storms can be witnessed brewing off the coasts - the threat of forced shelter and activity being halted looming overhead in the form of black clouds - is the so called ‘Appeasing of the Ocean’. The kahoun’s priests gather and enact a short, yet concise ceremony to wish such storms away, chanting that they change course of dissolve entirely with such levels of intensity and faith only a child of the Oldones could muster. However, as is often the case, despite their plea’s the lizardmen are forced to endure such tropical storms these prayers will continue, picking up in both multitude and magnitude depending on the length and harshness of such. Likewise, In the instances where a handful of skinks have been caught out in the sea, a storm running rampant with its wrath, whipping up the waves into a frothing frenzy do the sailors give their regards to a similar notion in the form of singing a hymn. A solemn song which sings of shore’s safety - Serving to ease their nerves and help them focus on the task at hand, seeking to endure each huge wave after the other. However, as with the case with such perils, the word’s of these songs are often the last spoken by many a skink sailor caught out in such serve situations - The echoes of these tune’s supposedly having been heard coming from the ocean depths where the coastal water’s shave away into abysses of ocean: Muffled and sorrowful, the bleached bones of those lizardmen who have died trying to return to shore ceaselessly hum such songs as they are worn away by the currents and sands which once sustained and served them. - Reverence of Itzl - Spoiler: Inspiration from Scalenex's 'Religious Festivals' Original Thread - https://www.lustria-online.com/threads/lizardmen-temples-and-worship.20522/ Such a ceremony is often commonplace across Lizardmen society, being well known and practiced across the continent. However, that which the Xahala enact is one for a singular species of beast - And to none’s surprise, that beast is the Salamander. Given the aforementioned skill and prevalence of its Beast caste in the Kahoun’s society it has become common place for the Xahala to set aside a number of days inorder to enact this reverence to the Old one deity of cold-blooded beasts - Itzl. Taking palace over the period within which Salamander eggs finish incubating, the hatchlings crawling forth in new life and form such religious ceremonies are encouraged by many a Beast handler, whom are intimately connected to such cycles as this one. Besides the more traditional invocations of praise, protection and finally mercy from the Salamanders themselves the Reverence will be announced by having many of the Kahoun’s number assemble upon the beach to witness as one of the tribes older, most usually diseased of sickened, salamanders is brought forth. Adorned in necklaces and charms, its moist skin painted with all manor of dye and dust skinks gather around the drugged beasts before a horn is sounded - in succession with which a Kroxigor brings down a great axe, decapitating the salamander as a sacrifice, its death a sign of rebirth and success for the next generation of its kin, such are the cycles of life and death. The tribe will then traditionally wish its spirit passage before all of its body is made use of in a multiude of ways: - Its flesh and meat will be cooked and shared between the tribe as a feast, one not to be eaten in sadness but instead joy and celebration for the beasts newborn kin. - Its bones and teeth shall be woven into the nest laires of incubating salamander eggs. Supposedly providing them with both the luck and parental watch of the sacrifice salamander spirit upon those soon to be born within. - Finally, Its skull will be cleaned before being lowered upon the neck of the tribe’s head beast handler to be worn as an icon for the days to come within which the hatching period is being undergone. - Remembrance and restoration of Pahaux - Being a newer settlement in the scheme of all things has its downfalls - But it too has its quirks, one of such being a yearly ceremony celebrated by all of the Xahala Kahoun’s inhabitants, one which aims to bring light upon the origins and past of the settlement and how its population once split off from its home City, the sky painted in ash and flame as they did so. Feasts are held, Banners raised and bonfires burnt. This event being among the few which Monuxyo will make an effort to witness, The Slann coming forth from his dim star chamber to return the praise of his people in wise words and reverences of his own - Their lord announcing the yearly journey to Pahaux, wherein which a chunk of the Kahouns population will aid in returning the city to a fraction of its former glory, striking out to sweep away the growth and repair the decay of time. As one wipes and blows the dust off of a book, these lizardmen shed the city of its blanket and coat of forlorn ferns, riding its ashen rock of all manor of parasite. Rubble will be brushed aside. Plants and overgrowth trimmed. The cities walls once more feeling the warmth of hands. The air echoing once more with sounds of construction, of conversation, of occupation. Memories relived if only for a time. A battle against time which would rather see the city turned to dust, nature’s overgrowth eventually returning to surge over its rubble in a great wave, eating its structures and buildings further down in the soil from forth which they were once raised all those centuries ago. ---= Legends and Myths =--- - The scouring of Port Reaver -
I thought I would leave out the Beast Profile for the Salamander itself as I want to dedicate more time to it and cover it in more detail due to its status as such a prevalent beast.