The Veyr | Part I: History, "The Making of a People"
Duru loh'vi Kora
"Salt remembers what we forgot."
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Chapter 1, "The Time Before The Echo" (800s-1200s)
Numa vé sharé
"We were sung into being."
Before the Echo, centuries before the Long Mist descended, in the Age of the Old Gods, comes the oldest surviving excerpt from the Anele Kal’Thol, the Singing Archive, compiled by memory-keepers of the Southern Lowlands. Though the Veil had not yet parted, and the Echo had not yet taken root in the souls of the people, the Veyr—though they were not yet called so—lived lives of great splendor, wisdom, struggle, and ritual. They were a Gods-fearing people of clay and copper, of sun-beaten stone, of cracked brick roads and golden harvests. They were the N’daratha, "those who walk under the Sky Unshrouded." Their kingdom, united under dynasty, called the House of Namarun, whose emblem bore the triple-ringed sun encircled by an ibis.
The Namarun were neither tyrants nor saints. They protective guards of vast and diverse realm, with the six most noble fatho ("tribes"). Their rule, begun in the early ninth century of the Age of Flame, brought order to lands once feuding over salt pits and grazing paths. By the time of Mansa Elun the Just, who rose to power in the Year of the Flame, 849, the clay cities of the N'daratha blossomed as cattails at the edge of the desert.
Each city was edom na kenu, seat of breath, named for the way the wind moved between their tall ochre towers and drystone courtyards, where market stalls selling woven linen, clay bowls, and bronze artworks. These cities were centers not only of rule, but of recitation—oral archives where story-keepers, known as the Oduma Salla, recited genealogies that stretched back to the beginning of the sky.
"Tari n’shomé, ka n’shomé ka shul," they would begin—("Speak the name, for the name is the soul").
In these days, the N'daratha did not bind soul to salt Their greatness would echo through time, not through mystical saltworkings or soul-binding rites, but through voice, story, and breath. They honored thdead in the air itself. To speak of one's ancestor was to breathe life back into them. This was the root of memory. The voice was the temple, the tale was a prayer.
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Chapter 1, Subsection 1, "A Circle of Flame and Salt"
|| The Shape of the Land and the Houses that Ruled It ||
The N'daratha dominion, known in their own tongue as the Kal'Zarathi (the Circle of Flame), stretched farther than the modern Desmne of the Veyr. Its lands were divided among countless tribes, which were in turn governed by the six most powerful tribes, who formed the six great houses. Each house went about concentrating their rule into six sacred regions. Each claim was bound by uneasy alliances and deeper ancestral claims. And though the warrior-kin House of Namarûn held the crown, their rule was possible only through complex negotiation and ritual bonds with the other five and the support of many lesser tribes.
To the north, in the amber savannas just below the vast nothing and its sprawling dunes, lay Vesh'Ka, ruled by House Arakhme, famed for their untamed horsemasters, the Shazurai. Their warriors were wild riders who prized innovation over doctrine, rejecting many of the old scriptural codes revered by the Serathu and Mebuza. Though considered uncouth by the southern lords, Vesh'Ka supplied unmatched cavalry, forging a brittle alliance with both House Namarûn and House Serathu. While House Namarûn was warmer to the Arakhme tribe, the scholars of the Serathu were uneasy of their northern neighbors, whom they saw as rebellious and uncontrollable pests. Many other smaller tribes among the Serathu migrated from the region of the Arakhme to escape their ways, which permantently tainted relations with sour tastes.
To the southwest sprawled Haluun, ruled by the austere House Veloth. It was a land of salt steppes, set beneath the towering ridges of the Khiveth Mountains, a range believed cursed for the screams that echoed from its cliffs at night. Neither the N'daratha nor the Veyr would ever settle in the mountains. The salt of Haluun was considered sacred, its grain radiant and unusually dry. In the Year of the Flame, 1052, Mansa Iluj Namarûn famously banned the domestic trade of Haluun salt, two centuries after its discovery. The ban is still a widely debated mystery that scholars and salt-binders alike still ponder. Some claim the ban was divine decree; others whisper that the salt had begun to "sing."
Further east lay Kushira, the morocco stone stairlands, where gold was unearthed in the Year of the Flame, 962, and shaped the very destiny of the N'daratha. Ruled by the Etazhi Tribe, a people of miners, masons, and deep-thinkers, the region became the kingdom's gold engine. It was said that Kushira's wealth built the great salt colleges of Enu'Raal, funded the Salt-Pilgrimage of Uriye, and corrupted the old priesthoods of the Gods. It was said that Etazhi coin was in every cup in the kingdom, and that any man of any noble rite owed coin to Kushira. Over time warrior lords in Kushira and surrounding lands would bend the knee to the Etazhi, seeding conflict into the N'daratha's fertile crescent.
However, the crown was not so lost, as, nestled between these powers were the two hearts of the kingdom:
Namarûn-Kha, the ancestral highlands of the royal House Namarûn, lay to the northwest, shielding the realm from the barbarian footholds beyond the Khiveth Mountains and its serrated ridge. This region straddled a great transitional zone between the western floodplains and the central desert basin—a geographic echo of the N'daratha’s hold between the Serathu’s fertile bend and the harsher lands to the east. The land of Namarûn-Kha was a crucible of red rock and dust-wind, a place where authority was not just inherited, but carved out through precise rites and immense militaristic stewardship. The Namarûn ruled not merely by blood, but by network. A sophisticated bureaucracy of provincial governors, salt-lords, military liaisons, and memory-keepers managed their domain. Its cities, including Makhed du'Raal—the “City of the Bronze Flame”—were planned with geometric severity and housed tiered temples to the Old Gods, as well as grand archives containing oral law recorded in seas of scrolls. Though the population was modest compared to the lowlands, its people were drilled in war and reverence. It was said that to be born in Namarûn-Kha was to be born halfway between breath and flame.
Enu'Raal, ruled by Serathu Tribe, stretched eastward from the highlands into a land of river-fat soil, rich in sediment and seed. The mighty Velarathi River forked through the land like veins of life. Enu'Raal’s wide river valleys, lush woodlands, and year-round rains made it the kingdom’s most agriculturally productive region. The region combined fertile geography with intellectual prestige and cultural cohesion. Its urban centers were marked by terraced gardens, well-maintained irrigation channels, and vast public squares for oral instruction and seasonal rituals. Takhen'Mora, the capital, housed the Colleges of the Flame and the Salt-Borne Archive—two sister institutions revered throughout the realm. There, scholar-priests in dyed robes presided over ancestral knowledge and scientific inquiry. Serathu priests emphasized order, balance, and the recording of all things. Their agricultural cycles were entwined with spiritual calendars, and many believed that planting was a divine act—returning pieces of the world to the gods in exchange for sustenance. Enu'Raal was where breath became scripture.
Tazallat, governed by the mercantile tribe Mebuza, sprawled across the river split southeast in a lattice of jungle flora, oasis basins, shifting dunes, and dense urban corridors. Its economy pulsed with the life of trade, and its cities were crammed with market dynamos. Though the region lacked a central geographic unity, its identity, was forged through network and motion. Caravan routes, salt canals, and sacred roads connected the Mebuza tribe's capital, Zharabét to every other major city. Urban markets overflowed with goods, not just from the Six Tribes, but from foreign lands—gems from the far south, script-tiles from the east, and fantastic idols and silks from across the sea. Tazallat's people were multilingual, shrewd, and fiercely proud of their trade guilds, which often held more power than local nobility. In fact, as time progressed, leiges to the crown of Tazallat and House Mebuzza routinely fell out of favor for the increasingly wealthy merchant clans and banks. Tazallat culture prized recordkeeping, deal-making, wittiness, and the flexibility of faith. Worship in Tazallat was famously syncretic, blending Old God rites with foreign divinities and the Mist Gods of nomandic tribes. Zharabét, the jewel of the Velarathi's southern bend, would rise from a merchant exclave into the imperial center after the War of Ash and Salt (1230-1250s). In Tazallat, the voice of the gods was not a whisper—it was a negotiation.
The Six Houses formed what the memory-keepers called the Circle of Flame and Salt: three Thrones in the south (Etazhi, Veloth, Mebuza), and three Horses in the north (Namarûn, Serathu, Arakhme).
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Chapter 1, Subsection 2, "Circles Within Circles"
|| The N'daratha Way of Governance ||
The N'daratha were not a people of a simple monarchy. Their kingdom, though presided over by the Namarûn line, was governed according to the Law of Circles (Kith n'Thala). This law dictated that every ruling decision must pass through three layers of counsel:
The Inner Ring, composed of the ruling Mansa and their direct house-stewards;
The Second Circle, filled with clan elders, high priests, and scholars from the College Temples;
The Outer Ring, made of traders, artisans, militia captains, and farmer-chiefs.
This law slowed the hand of tyranny. Monarchs who overreached were said to "walk alone beneath the fire" (ni'sul varra thol), meaning their soul was already considered unanchored. The ritual of passing laws or declaring wars involved long public recitations, called Va'tha Zhorin, wherein memory-keepers would summon ancestral rulings and chant binding oaths.
In Vesh'Ka, the Arakhme kept their own laws—many of which contradicted the central Circle. They rejected inheritance laws, crowned their leaders by public racing, and routinely challenged the authority of Serathu scribes. Yet even they bent the knee in war, sending their Shazurai to defend the realm from foreign invaders or internal insurgents...
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Chapter 1, Subsection 3, "The Khalu'mor"
|| Gods and Spirituality of the N'daratha ||
The N'daratha were not strangers to gods. They revered the Old Pantheon, known collectively as the Khalu'mor, or Those Who Take. Theirs was not a faith of comfort, but of sacrifice, appeasement, and transactional veneration.
Akhuru, god of flame and endings, was invoked at births and executions alike;
N'dema, the River-Mother, was worshipped in Enu'Raal and Tazallat, and her effigies were floated each solstice on the Velarathi;
Zôl, god of tolls, demanded offering before travel or enterprise;
Luseth, the moon-silent, ruled over dreams and madness, and was most feared in Vesh'Ka and Kushira.
Temples to these deities were not enclosed spaces but open-air stone circles, or water-gardens filled with fragrant oils and offerings. Sacrifices were common—goats, spices, even song. In Haluun, salt itself was ritually burned as an offering.
Yet even in faith, the N'daratha differed. House Serathu made worship into a scholarly rite, codifying prayers and standardizing rituals. The Arakhme burned religious texts, believing the gods did not wish to be known by pages. House Mebuza mixed foreign gods into their pantheon, and in some Tazallat cities, gods of the soul, feeling, sensation, and memory carved from other lands unknown, stood beside N'daratha idols, sometimes superceding them.
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Chapter 1, Subsection 4, "Wealth, War and the Shimmer of Salt"
|| General History of the N'daratha People ||
Before gold, there was salt. The Three Threads of the Earth were the pillars of economy: salt, cloth, and copper. These were traded along roads patrolled by joint military detachments, each bearing the banners of the Six. Cloth from Enu'Raal, salt from Haluun, and copper from the mountain trade passed through Zharabét, Tazallat's capital, before winding their way downriver to the coastal states.
But everything changed in the 960s, when a goat-herder in Kushira stumbled upon golden ore veins shining like fire beneath the rocks. House Etazhi exploited these finds with fervor, building gold-mines that would fund the greatest pilgrimage of the age: The Salt-Pilgrimage of Uriye.
Mansa Uriye, a cadet of the Namarûn line, journeyed across three dominions bearing gold, salt, and relics of the Old Gods. Though not as lavish as later Veyr processions, his pilgrimage established the N'daratha as a gold-rich power. Caravans now crossed into the territories of the far coast, and even rumors of sea-bound traders reached Zharabét's docks. The once inland kingdom was becoming something else.
Gold reshaped the kingdom. House Mebuza grew rich on redistribution. House Veloth suffered, as salt fell from favor. House Serathu worried, for spiritual scholars debated whether gold corrupted ancestral memory.
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Chapter 1, Subsection 5, "The End of The Beginning"
|| The Beginning of the Fall of the N'daratha; The Descension of la Thul ||
In the year of the flame, 1081, the old capital Makhed du'Raal was ransacked in a lightning raid by western rebels. The Namarûn court relocated to Takhen'Mora for fifteen years, disrupting ancestral rites and causing a brief religious crisis. During this time, the alliances between the Six faltered. Tensions between the Three Thrones (south) and the Three Horses (north) escalated. Trade slowed. The Veil began to stir.
Children were born silent. Voice-keepers forgot ancestral lines. In Kushira, miners claimed to hear weeping from the golden walls. In Haluun, salt turned bitter. The Oduma Salla ceased their public chants. It was then that the first signs of the Mist emerged. Purple fogs appeared over the Velarathi River in the dockyards of Zharabét. Rains fell for days in the whole of the arid North of the Arakhme. The Sun was said to be up so long of the day for the Etazhi, that their gold would melt in the mines.
But before the Mist fell, there was still a voice. There were still names. And there was still the memory of breath.
Tari n'shomé, ka n'shomé ka shul. Speak the name, for the name is the soul.
Let this compendium preserve their flame, not in salt, but in word.
We were fire and clay, before we were mist. We were breath before salt. Voice before echo.
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Chapter 2, "The Shattering of the First Echo" (Approx. 1200s)
Luhé a Su e Sha
"From existing to living."
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Chapter 2, Subsection 1, "A Crease in the Fold"
|| The Unraveling of the Kingdom of the N'daratha; The Veil Opens ||
