Legends of Belariath

The Quest of Festivals Common

Kaytoo- Festivals of Toulokk & the Moragan Hammer

Trupda’mon tem Toulokk un da Moragan Hamr

If one began a journey starting at the civilized village of Nanthalion in Dachvst toward the realm of the spirit of the North wind Korvath staying on that path for 27-32 lums or passings of the second moon. Naturally, ensuring prayers to Shostvar, Kelmtes, Skaes as well as all other spirits one might encounter and disregarding the bickering of the triplet spirit sisters of DaVostt so your way stayed true, you would soon find your way clearly marked as Kortme` though evil has made the path to Toulokk clear once passing the Wall of Nicci.

If your way was led astray in the pursuit of game, or perhaps to avoid Orc or Troll, stay true to Korvath, as soon you will encounter the wall of Nicci as only a Hammer God could have built a way so clear. Know the wall is shaped like the arc of a firm breast with the nipple the path you seek and pointing toward the Groth Spirits realm. Follow the great wall of stone some call mountains till you find true north as it is there you will find the way to Toulokk. As you pass through the wall at the nipple, a valley lush yet narrow at best 200 paces wide, you fill find on the other side the way clear for those faithful to making the journey.

Stay low, as though seeing for a way to Kregdach itself always taking the lowest path. The lowest path clear and always ending up taking you ever north. This is the path of Kortme`, her desire to be near Jagdnict clear the path so low, yet her desire for beauty keeping her trail in the light. As all things created by her you will find her trail bountiful in game and all manner of food. Springs and creeks cool and clean abundant, and the sound of possible threat echoing off every wall so one can prepare. Yes tempting to stay where life could be so targda’sot. Yet as we all know untrue to nature and the Gods, unfaithful to be sure to live so peaceful a life as this is Vraste`, the place of learning. Count not your days, only the hunts and if lucky your targda’mon or battles upon the way to share with your hosts. For in another 14 lums time if you do not tarry, you will find yourself at the gates of the Great Wall of Moragan, Toulokk, valley of the ice dragon, home of the Moragan Hammer.

If fortunate enough to be able to defeat the warriors of the gates upon entering you will find this clan though harsh one that celebrates every aspect of life as it does battle with it. So in truth, living faithful to the natural world and utilizing Vraste` as it should, and what celebrations this great clan has. Though the celebrations are many, a few you may find following.

As one might suspect, the beginning of the Hammer Kot or year begins with all things in balance, life beginning anew, Kot’sot or Spring as many who speak the low crowns tongue call it (March 21st) when the Lus, Lur and Lum all ride upon the belt of Vraste`. The Lus ba equal to the Lum ba. So all things targda’sot and in balance, equal and fair in all ways. Though this is the time the shem of the Moragan Hammer celebrate through the “Custom of Planting”, all is not truly unfair to the Groth and Shem’fed during this time. As they depart Toulokk so as not to be tempted to sully the crops to come, and they themselves hold a festival outside the walls as they celebrate the Custom of Perpetuating the Faith. Yet the time just before is one they celebrate together, the Trupda’mon tem Daf Sosh’sot tem Vraste`.

Trupda’mon tem Daf Sosh’sot tem Vraste`

(Festival of the Coming of the Birthday of Belariath, March 14th-March 20th)

The Moragan Hammer New Year coming on the first day of Spring is a time for great rejoicing and preparation. At this time of the year the Shem and Groth’mon and sot excited ready for the Custom of Planting, and the Groth’fed for the hardships of the Custom of Perpetuating the Faith turn to the Hammer Gods as they rarely do, and pray for the strength and guidance to live life full during the coming year. The time is spent by few in the great council hall as in the past fights have broken out as to which Gods deserve prayers and in what order, with in the end the result one of none prayed to. So the festival in the beginning is spent with the Warrior Council members and those of their frey’sot or immediate family in attendance. Placing themselves akin to first tier Gods their prayers naturally voiced toward Kron, Shona, Jaknow and Moragan, their curses to Jagdnict. The balance of the community remains in their homes or travels to within Toulokk to places they hold special be it beside some spring, in the wood, or where they have found a place to be sacred to them. Although their prayers may include first tier Gods, in most cases they focus more toward second and third level Gods and Goddesses, and although their curses to Jagdnict are clear as well, they will often include those to Wespa and Barth as well.

Although it may seem as this first two days of the festival pulls the clan apart, in truth it binds the individual families together causing them to take stock in that which is most dear. As the third and fourth days come and go, individual families will find themselves joining with others of similar beliefs. Contrasts in basic beliefs shared and discussed now yet the praying done, so simply discussion expanding the minds of ones neighbor. As the fifth and sixth days come and go, the groups swell, drink and food flow, sex with ones spouse and slaves swelling to ones neighbors, then those of distant friendships and unknown, drawing the community together as all can agree that they are Hammer, the Faithful, and therefore the same. Upon the arrival of the seventh day the clan has once more come together. Assembling in and around the great hall as though drawn there. The festival raucous by this time, as threats to Jagdnict, Kortme`, Wespa and Barth fill the air.

The clan pulled together whole once more, till suddenly the Moragan of the mighty clan rises often stumbling and exposed as his pleasures are not forgotten as well. Rearing back he strikes at the be’Hote’mon tem da Kocve’mon, or Bell of the Faithful in the great hall with the Hammer of Moragan, the sound unlike the wood log striker normally used as it is sharp and jarring in its resonance. The people all, from slave to great warrior gather, and the Moragan looks over the assemblage. No speeches made, no prayers offered up for all of the Clan, he simply stares. Then slowly he turns and with sincere tears in his eyes he looks up toward Koluumn and shouts to Kron the highest of the spoken Hammer Gods and threatens. He threatens how Kron best serve his people, best do all he can to insure their health and safety, for as if any Hammer falls be they slave or Warrior, Kron and all the Gods risk their own safety, as one of the Faithful will ride the Raven spirit high and conquer heaven itself killing all who stand in their way. A threat to the Hammer Gods, yet in truth praise for his peoples, as his last words always muttered silent and soft are a prayer of thanks, for being the leader of the faithful and those he respects. Without another word spoken, the assemblage departs and returns home. Preparing for the weeks to come of separation for many. A clan focused from its most basic relationships to the whole inclusive.

Trupda’mon tem Koft Groth’fed tem da Kocve`

(Festival of the returning Warriors of the Faith June 1st-June 3rd)

As the customs of the New Year fade and the peoples of Toulokk wait for the Groth’fed to return, a homecoming is felt by all as the Clan once more comes together as one to celebrate life and the living of it, part of which is the reunion of those cared for. The gates of the Great Wall of Moragan sealed till the Lum has vanished having gone thin the lums before, no Warrior allowed back in till that time. Yet as the moon narrows, all of mon and sot class prepare in the final days for the return of the Groth’fed. Livestock are slaughtered as breads and other foods are prepared, a great feast made for the returning Faithful. As the day draws near if warrior you would see often the shem and mour of Toulokk peering over the wall as all the warriors gather at the gates. As the warriors wait telling each of their travels and experiences, the women inside cook and clean to make Toulokk a place memorable and desirable to those who have perpetuated the Hammer way.

The day before the gates are to be opened, all of the women of Toulokk make a pilgrimage to the nearby hot springs near the town proper. There they wash from themselves all traces of others, the soil of the past weeks customs and make themselves tem or neutral in sight and scent. Once bathed thoroughly, many though the custom fades slip deep inside their vagina’s the egg of the Ferdamant. Once thought to be of Dragon, it soon known to be simply a snake, yet the shell of the egg leathery, the contents bright red. Many as well will do something done no other time in the year, taking the powder of the south wash from the spring and wetting it, painting their bodies leaving them fully pale, scars and tattoo’s hidden, even coating their hair causing it to turn the color of fall wheat. So essentially, a village of blonde unmarked virgins. Those too young marked at the last upon the cheeks with blue from the stainberry so none will be mistaken for of age. Then the gates are opened.

As the gates of the Great Wall of Moragan swing wide, in stride the warriors on the dawn after the new moon. All weapons are set beside it just inside, and as they fill the entry they find themselves faced by a riotous mob of Groth’fed and sot, all equally unarmed, yet their ferocity matching that of any Groth’fed. Behind them a throng of Rumiel Shem, all blonde and fair skinned, their unique markings and features bleached temporarily by the powders from the spring. The warriors will pause as always, as the taunts and threats from the men between them and the women rise high. Statements akin to “I took your daughters and submitted 20 times” common, as the groth’mon of Toulokk spill forth their exploits of the past two months. Though this may seem cruel, it is to insure that no lies are kept between any, and be the shouts heard clear or not, the words clearly spoken, no deceptions hidden and all laid clearly out for all to consider. Then it will happen.

In an instant the warriors will rush forward, fists swinging as the lunge toward the defending men. Blows will be traded yet never in anger or malice as the Groth’fed are meant to break the lines. As they do, balance once more comes into play as for all they were forbidden in the weeks before, they now may take, as it is the warriors way from any and all women of the clan. That which the common man has had so much of recently now the warriors ravage as they chase and pursue the supposed virgin women pure of body seeming and pure of experience their skin like that of a sheltered civilized woman's. If one were to walk through the crowd they’d note many pinned and being raped where they had stood. Some by one, some by many as the balance flee, oddly always finding some excuse to trip or be cornered, all before the day over sporting red thighs, as though their virginity taken roughly, though all know it to be the feeling of the leathery egg breaking and its contents spilling forth.

As the warriors tire of their lusts they demand food and drink, taken by their conquered females to the great hall where they share the tales of their days outside the wall, of the peoples enlightened, of the battles won. Yet on the third day, their roots sore from taking all they can they drunkenly wander toward home as the women seem to dwindle about. There they will often find their women submitted, waiting for them, the bleach having faded the scents of the others washed away as heavy scented oils coat them now. Weapons in their hands to drive off any who try to take them waiting for the one they have submitted to, and as he approaches he will see their weapons fall, as they drop low once again, and proclaim their love and their having longed for him, as they submit once more.

Trupda’mon tem Da Taup tem da fed utCrit Tauk sen Vosh’mon:

(Festival of the Hunt for the Great Tusked Whale, July 1st)

As the Kot’mon begins and the mon and sot of Toulokk busy themselves repairing homes and lands from the winter, tending fields and livestock, building stocks of weapons and such, generally just living life, a select group of warriors and sailors depart heading North up the valley of the Ice Dragon. With them one might note the lumber they take along, yet even more so the vast quantities of empty barrels and barbed heavy spears with rope and rings attached. They head ever North, through the fields and into the forests, their way noted and the Festival marked by the casting of spears or even simply sharp sticks as they pass. The spears always thrown North, as though guiding them or to simply wish them well. The Group of roughly 70 continue on their way till they find themselves on the great glacier receding still. Ever north they head till they find themselves at the great sen vesh’fed or salt sea. There a ship old yet still strong lays in wait, up upon the glacier itself, the cold hindering its decay, and the band of warriors and sailors begin to prepare for the hunt of a lifetime, the hunt for the great tusked whale.

Although this at first glimpse may seem to be just another hunting trip, truth be known it has significance to all Hammer in Toulokk. The meat and oil brought back will feed many and light the torches and lamps for the year to come, yet that alone is not what makes this such a time of note. All know of the dangers of the salt oceans of the north. The edge of the world if one travels too far, dragons and other sea monsters abound. The weather though mild compared to most of the year at this time, though storms of tremendous magnitude can spring up at any moment. Yet with all the peril, no doubt surpassing that which could be gained from the hunt, it is none the less done to press the limits of man, and do battle with nature itself. Seals and Walrus plentiful as well, some taken, yet the hunt is focused, that being upon the great tusked whale that comes to feed here this time of year. Akin to the Narwhale yet much larger its tusk alone reaching often the length of 13 kefs, and unlike its cousin aggressive and just as brutal as the little band that hunts it. They have been known to attack the great low sided ships of the Norsemen, and devour all aboard. So as the group prepares those at home celebrate, yet not in the vain belief of a victory sure, yet more so as a prayer to the spirits for their protection.

If in Toulokk proper one would see the children at play, often forcing a slave to dress as the whale, a large elk skin the hair removed used as the body a spear for its tusk. The children will chase the mock whale through the paths and streets hurling toy spears at it till from exhaustion the slave falls and they swarm over him in mock butchery. Often, other children will decorate themselves in feathers, fur, antler and bones, anything to make themselves look odd and pounce from the shadows upon the others to simulate a sea monster or dragon. Yet as the children play and most of the adults go about their work, one might also note the gathering of females near the lake just north of the village. There they encircle a large rock, carved into it the glyphs and personal marks of those that have perished in this hunt in days past. The list long the rock well covered. Nude, they pray, pray to all the Gods, and many of the spirits. Often you will see when their fears and worry reach a peak, they will slash their arm or belly to carve in their fear and shame for the potential loss of their Groth’fed submitted. Those that have lived long often striped as though with chevrons for each year they prayed, the cuts marked out for each loved ones return with ink, yet those not know it is due to the loss of one cared for. Daily till the Groth’fed return they will pray, and nightly find their way into the water of the lake, offering themselves to Scaes, pleading for him to tell his cousin Scaet to protect their Groth. The marks on their bodies from bites of the great pike spirit testament to his acceptance.

Yet as those in Toulokk grieve, play and pray, the small band of warriors and sailors set to work. The ramp on the glacier must be cleared once more. The ravages of ice and snow upon the ship must be repaired, and the weapons made sharp for the hunt. Once done the ship guided down the ramp into the sea, and out the group goes. For days perhaps the hunt itself though never long they will sail always within sight of shore. As they row and sail they pray, pray to Korvath for a good wind to keep them near shore. Pray to Scaet for his protection and bounty. Lastly to the white slick crows (gulls) of the North seas to guide the raven quick to their spirits if they should perish. They will sail up back and forth near the coast till the geysers from the whales spouts blow high and their tusks breach the surface. The outcome never sure, yet if successful they will separate out a large bull and send their harpoons in deep. If not, then many could perish even the whole crew if the whale proves victorious.

Yet if they fell the mighty beast, they will spend the next week rendering down the blubber to oil and butchering and packing the meat. The ship returned to its spot upon the glacier, the massive skin from the whale used to shield it till the elements and scavengers take their toll. The people of Toulokk to never know if they survived till they return home victorious or a scattered few. Upon their return dependant upon the outcome there will either be celebration or mourning. If a day of mourning, none will greet lest those submitted to the returning Groth if any. The women by the lake spotting them first, though the village will be alerted by their keening if the hunt unsuccessful. Yet if the hunt proved fruitful, a mighty lonesome call will sound from the tusk turned to horn set on the rock of those lost, and as the low tone of victory echo’s down through the valley the peoples will gather. Together the clan will divide the meat and oil all equally shared, then prepare for the evenings festivities.

Gathering in the great warrior hall, the food and drink will flow. Shem will dance and carouse with all the hunters as they spin their tales of the hunt normally more fearsome and the battle much greater then was true (though the tale of 1,000 tusked whales attacking the lone boat has yet to be matched). As a finally to the evenings celebration the whalers drunk and debaucheries now, they will grapple and bind those shem unoccupied, and in a perverse insinuation perform the blessing of the tusk. The tusk of the great whale spiraled like that of a unicorns, throughout the night anointed with oils and drink as the Shaman give thanks to the Gods. Tired of the formalities and no doubt drunk by this time, the hunters will bind those shem they can catch wrists behind their back, and hoisting them up set them upon the mighty tusk. The tusk now slick from the oils and such and with a mighty rising yell they will race her down its length her cunnie riding it all the way. The spiral quick, and it is said no shem has not anointed one to date before the end of the ride with their copious flow.

In the following days the tusk will be added to the hundreds of others in the Great Wall of Moragan. Pointing out into Dachvst, another formidable spike added to warn away those who might attack. As this is not only the home of those that dominate all on the land they survey, yet also the great mystical beasts of the perilous sea. A petty festival some may believe, yet testament to the Hammers insistence on battling and besting all they encounter.

Trupda’mon tem da UtKocve`

(Festival of the Unfaithful, mid August)

The fourth primary festival held in Toulokk is a black one. It is a day when all things are to be put right, balance lost within the clan. The nature of the peoples themselves and the traditions of the clan almost designed for excesses, none the less it is intentional in that there is the test for one of the faithful, to be balanced, to never be of excess in any form. So when the kocc’mon tem Kot’mon or dog days of summer are upon the people of the Hammer, and tempers rise, their blood lusts and tempers are cooled. This is done through the Trupda’mon ten da UtKocve`, or Festival of the Unfaithful. A trial of many really, a chance for all to point their fingers and condemn another with the backing of the clan. No doubt, some have used this time to settle old grudges and vendettas, yet in the end the truth usually comes forth, and woe be to he who condemns another falsely, as they have just themselves. All of the clan will be in attendance even the slaves as for them to learn they must participate though their punishments much less then those of the Hammer.

With a striking of the table by the Hammer of Moragan the call will go out for any and all to declare those they know of unfaithful. Few to date have run fearing punishment as how can one run from the Hammer Gods and an eternity in Kroth the fate for those of such cowardice. The warrior hall full the call will instantly garner shouts of crimes of excess from many there, the Moragan pointing to who he hears most pleading and their accusation heard. Once stated, the mob rules as the assemblage pours out of the hall if the person is not present, and hunts them down dragging them back in. There, the accuser will state their case and any other who concur. The accused speaking up after, the Moragan and the warrior council the judge and jury, the assemblage however the executioner if so deemed unfaithful. Yet all the crimes of imbalance will be tried first, then the punishments levied.

Few are the crimes a Hammer or slave can commit, most corporal in nature and dealt with in kind, usually to grant the excess or its opposite till the desire for such is gone. The point to bring the individual to a point where they wish to be in balance, a choice they must make for themselves. The few deemed capital normally instantaneous from the moment the punishment called down, the lesser crimes dealt with over the following week. The crimes and the punishments capital in nature are few. Rushing with those not of age will garner death by the mour of the clan as the crime taints the minds of the young Hammer, the revenge though no cure, surely sweet none the less. The breaking of a Pax or deal capital if often, the person scalped permanently removing their hair to bind a deal with, to live the remainder of their days in shame with no honor untrustworthy. Leaving ones post or fleeing leaving your fellow Hammer in battle often left to the warriors. Though it is not known what comes of these men, all that can be said is their screams from the cave of shame pierce the night, and they are rarely seen again. Murder, rape, theft considered natural, yet the selling of a Hammer into slavery will net you the balance of your days as one within Toulokk, though never having the status of even slave still considered Hammer, though now UtHamr or less then Hammer.

The majority of crimes however pertain to an imbalance in ones life. The imbalance noted, the punishment dealt out, and the crime forgotten for all times. For slaves the punishments rare, as in being heathens, or unfaithful, they are not expected to know better. At worst perhaps for the lazy slave, time upon the grist wheel. For the thieving slave, the return of the item and at most a whipping. Yet for the Hammer, the punishments can be harsh. For one so vain they forsake all else, they may find their face and bodies scarred. For those that rush’fed as their focus simply devoting their time to it, they may find the entire clan using them constantly against their will for the week. For those that simply rush’mon their time away they may be stripped of their station for a time, and forced to serve as an unwilling unable to refuse any whore. For those that lie with beasts they may find themselves bound outside the walls nude, so the goblins low beasts themselves may have their turn. Gluttony, greed, sloth, fighting all dealt with in kind. The punishment always the crime yet to such extremes the accused should tire of it, and once the punishment served the infraction forgotten by all for all times.

The punishments sometimes vary as much as the degree of imbalance, each unique to the person as the punishment is not meant to simply be an act of revenge, yet to help guide the Hammer back onto the path of balance. Though there is no revelry during this week, it is a chance in the most agitating of days of the year when tempers peak to vent ones frustrations. Guilt felt by any may be shed as they will suffer their fates. The vengeance in hearts of others satiated by the punishments they inflict, as the people as a whole participate fully. It is a festival not only to cleanse the clan of those that commit crimes of faithlessness, yet also to bring the clan as a whole back into balance, to ease angers and feelings of injustice, and to remind even those innocent that as a Hammer, one must be faithful to balance. Balance either lived by choice, or it can be thrust upon you.

Trupda’mon tem da unCrifs Folm Groth’fed

(Festival of the Gauntlet of Warriors, September 20th-26th)

As the warm days dwindle and the beasts of the wood come of age the rut nearing, so are some of the mour’fed both Groth and the rare Shem of the clan nearing a time of maturity. Those that have trained long and hard, having learned of combat, faithfulness to Nature and Balance and most of all the courage it takes to be one of the Hammer for many now long overdue now have opportunity to demand their rank within the Clan. The rank of Groth’fed and the rare Shem’fed fought for as once earned never to be retracted having proved ones class granted by the Gods. So as the deer begin to shed the velvet from their antlers, and the grain begins to turn golden within the fields, the people of the clan prepare for the attack to come, from within the Great Wall of Moragan.

Fist signs from those within the clan that some may be ready, really tired of waiting for their right as till it is demanded it will not be granted comes in the form of injury to those Groth’fed teaching the mour’fed. Tempers peaking combat less and less restrained, all training is halted before fatalities become the norm rather then the exception. As the warriors meet in the great Warrior Hall, it is said they discuss who is truly ready and who is not, though in truth any who can force the issue will be granted the rank. Realizing the time is at hand, an announcement is made that “some within the clan dare challenge the Groth’fed, and those loyal to the Clan must prepare”. No names spoken as to who, though by now know doubt overdue and obvious. So a “Gauntlet of Loyalty” will be declared, the battle to come on the Equinox when the Los, Lum and Lur all ride upon the belt of Vraste` as one once more (September 23rd) thus granting all 3 days to prepare.

Oddly, the readiness for battle comes in the form of a flurry of celebratory preparation. War banners sporting the Glyph of the Moragan Hamr will be flown from every building and parapet. Lavish feasts and drink will be prepared as livestock are slaughtered. No weapon of combat nor armor will be sharpened or cleaned during this time though, yet a stiff reed some from other lands called bamboo and switches will be cut their ends dulled as Kuada a vegetable similar to a green tomato in firmness will be gathered by many along with the ink producing stainberries. As the morning of the third day arrives the village will be silent, and if one were to take a census they would find any number of young mour’fed and perhaps even slaves missing.

As the ba’mons shrink to their middle length of the morning one would find the Groth and Shem both mon and sot lining up the main path to the Great Warrior Hall, all nude as is the custom for combat pure and fearless, few brandishing reeds yet many the Kuada and switches taken up the days prior. As you looked toward the hall you’d note an intimidating sight to be sure, all of the Moragan Hamr Groth’fed and the few Shem’fed lining the balance of the way. Their bodies nude as well yet adorning their upper arms the ribbons of victory they have won as in their hands they sport the rigid reeds. At the entrance to the Great Hall the Gatekeepers, and just inside the Moragan himself sporting the only true weapon here, Moragan's Hamr’fed used to defeat the Ice Dragon and claim the valley. In silence the assemblage waits.

Some years it may be as many as Fifty, in other only one, yet suddenly a call will sound from the north as all those who demand recognition appear upon the rise. There strong toned youthful bodies often devoid and lacking in markings as they themselves must be unclothed, all of age, some of true combat experience, yet all demanding their place within the Hammer. Dependant on the size of the group most often the tactics change from year to year. If only one or few, some have been known to simply walk arrogantly up the path, standing alone against the clan proud firm and insistent. Yet when the group is large quite often a charge is the way, the group as a mob forcing their way up the center of the path, giving back as much as they receive.

Contrary to what one might think, this moment is open to all who chose to try be they small child, slave, and even the most untrained. If victory is lost this go round, then perhaps the next if one dares, yet know the skills of each person well known, and those only truly worthy of what it takes to be a warrior, faithful and combat will be allowed to pass. Young boys often pinned yanked from the fray by older sisters embarrassed rarely repeat the brash attempt. Though seeming cruel, those not fed and known to not be able often quickly dispatched with a blow to the head to save them injury and embarrassment. Yet those mour’fed, slave and mon ready, no effort will deter as they boldly move down the path toward the Hall. Pelted by the firm vegetables though some thinking silly know many have been knocked cold from them. Switched, kicked, struck by fist and body they will continue on. Those having worked toward this day allowed to progress further before a caring hand strikes them down knowing perhaps just another year. Yet those truly ready will force their way through, sometimes even slave as if one can earn the right, so they may have it.

What is left of the group having passed through the Mon & Sot of the clan however must now face the Fed. The warriors, their blows from the reeds, fist and foot most often unkind. Grappling the challengers to the ground forcing them to fight their way to the hall where awaiting them are the Gatekeepers. The few truly ready left now bruised, bloodied and mauled will as is custom pause. At that moment when all have reached this point the shouts of the crowd will go still, as the small group left states their demand. “Let us take our place as Fed of the Hamr, or we will take it!” In turn each will be allowed to try, most the Gatekeepers will swing, deliberately missing at the last the petitioner passing. Those deemed not ready will be struck by the mighty blows, yet know a few have repelled the attack, their will insisting victory some even crawling through as most are sent flying. Entering the Hall however they will find their match, the Moragan and his station one that must be taken, few have ever tried, and to date none have succeeded their shattered bodies to be keened over after.

Yet those who demand to be Fed he will still attack, the blow always from the spiked barb from the Ice Dragon upon the Hamr’fed. Be it a slash to the thigh, a blow to the shoulder all will feel its wrath, yet all deemed worthy after the strike the Moragan will yield. As the last Petitioner falls, the Shaman and healers will rush in, tending their wounds, yet the blow dealt by the Moragan always stained, a mark to tell all they have earned their rank of Groth or Shem’fed for the balance of their days. Once revived and rejuvenated from the melee, the Warrior council members slaves and even the Moragan’s will attend to the initiates. It is said yet not known by the common folk that they will be bathed and oiled, scented and spiced as the Shaman pray to the Gods to guide and protect them. The next morning the night spent on their spiritual and physical preparation, the sunrise will find those successful glistening and slick from their attendance just outside the hall facing into the sunrise. The Warriors flanking them the Moragan standing in front of the new Fed. Many of the warriors now dressed, mon and sot as well, the new born Fed remained unclothed and unarmed, their brand as one of the Hamr and their new scar and tattoo as warrior earned all they need to proclaim their might as they will be marched through the streets toward the glade near the hot springs north of the village proper.

As they approach the springs the glade full of the balance of the clan, a feast worthy of Faerie food and drink plentiful is laid out for their inspection. Passing through the crowd none will be seated before these few, yet once they have no announcement will be made as none could be heard over the joyous shouts of the members of the clan. The feast will run for the next three days, food an drink plentiful, and for the new Fed, any mon or sot unclothed they desire, those clothed having chosen to keep their rush’mon specific. At some point in the festivities a call will go out for sot, the slaves of the clan seeking one specific to attend to welcome to present themselves to the new Fed. Of these slaves quite often submissions of secret can now be made public, yet of those offering, the new Fed are welcome to up to nine (though a wise Fed will take none till established). The festival will continue till the final day, when drunk and well satiated of food and physical pleasures the balance of the clan left standing observes the presentation of Folm and Tauk.

Each new warrior presented a weapon specific to their skills, armor in kind, and to the very, very rare few perhaps if believed to be one of great future, a Tauk or Folm containing some piece of the Ice Dragon. Though seeming as though honor, glory, wealth and respect has been lavished on this few, in truth it is required, as they have taken the most difficult path. The one least forgiving, their accomplishments from now on considered expected verses well earned, their honor demanded, and their punishments the most severe. Sacrificing the frivolity of youth, mour and mon. Having demanded that they be allowed to stand watch alone, and perish before any other expendable. Extremes of gift and hardships to be sure, and in truth though seeming opposite, now holding the lowest rank in the clan.

Trupda’mon tem da Taub’fed

(Festival of the Harvest, October 27th-November 3rd)

As the Moose, Elk and Deer rut fully, the Salmon pass through to spawn outside the Wall of Moragan, and the last crops of the year are harvested, the land of Toulokk is a flurry of activity. Yet the acts of filling the ladders and bins for winter during this time have taken on a special meaning. The reward for a hard worked season abundant, and to each special group specific traditions and customs have evolved. All making up the Trupda’mon tem da Taub’fed.

If one were to roam the Valley of the Ice Dragon this time of year, they would find with each activity of work a joyous celebration has been linked to it. Although none linked together by a central festival of the clan inclusive, this too has purpose. The work must be done to reap Natures bounty, yet in allowing each activity bound together by play, tournament and sport the work required has almost taken on a carnivals flare. All seem to dress or more often the case undress to accent their tasks. Bright colored paints and ribbons adorn many while others take on a darker flair. Areas of activity decorated as well, all to draw the passer by into, as though to say “come see, look, taste and try”. So wherever one goes within the valley of Toulokk, they will find temptation to participate and work.

The men and women who have found their place working timber for lumber and fire, throughout the week hold contests for the most wood split in a specific ba’mon, or most longest total length of plank made as well as other contests. Those who tend field bush and tree the most crop gathered or processed, and those that mine the coal the highest mound. All contests however relatively short, just enough time to get a fair amount of work done yet not tax the contestants interest. Bakers the finest breads and pies, those with livestock the most clean kill and butchery, and so it goes all over the valley. The prize most often a ribbon of victory, a source of bragging rights and sure to attract lustful opposites or kind. In some cases the prize may be the best of the work that was done, though those that work the quarry have learned to not offer a rock as the bounty. Fishing and hunting contests, skinning and weapon craft. Tournaments of weaving, sewing and cooking, tests of mathematics and engineering solution. All work that must be done, yet now fun and good natured to try and be the one who does it not as a profession, yet learns and does it well.

Although seeming some cruel trick to have others do ones work, in truth it is a time to share what one knows and does to support the clan. Most fumbling poorly to the raucous laughter of all observing, with naturally the taunts of being able to do it better so in steps the next. So as the contests go on, the required work is done, the harvest brought in as each within the clan learns of his neighbor and his neighbors craft. In the end, all Hamr simply wiser, often in the following year applying aspects and ideas of what they learned to their own work, improving on its execution as well. Yet as this carnival of activity rolls on, two other traditions are practiced, one being the calling of the Crow and Raven by the Shaman of the clan, and the reversal of Sosh by many of the rest.

For the week of the harvest as the contests and merriment rages on, the Shaman of the clan set within the hallowed wood the pyre for spirits lost. From the hallowed wood past the cool lake and through the village proper to the gates themselves torches will be lit to guide the spirits way. The gates in the Great wall of Moragan left closed except for the door for pedestrians within it, and the wall itself illuminated perhaps 300 torches upon its ridge. Along the trail outside the wall and all the way to the wood sweets and pastries, mugs of ale and goblets of wine will be laid out to help tempt the spirits in. Along the path for the entire week, those males of substantial root and shem of curves full are encouraged to walk the lighted path to lead the spirits more lustful in nature as the mour dress as demon and beast corrupted beside the path to inspire the spirits to stay on it.

Wood that yields much smoke old and punky used as the pyre of flames guides the spirits the smoke will the Crow and Raven. As any and all are encouraged and welcome to rush’mon about the fire, as such lustful debauch is known to tempt then frustrate spirits as well. So as the Shaman chant, those about the fire orgy in every conceivable way, the torches, treats and Groth and Shem of substance tempting them to the hallowed wood as the demons and beasts corrupt false keep them on their path the spirits of Saadte, Tzemth and Noujvet as well as the Crow and Raven are called to join.

The spirits it is believed seeing the torches on the wall approaching from all of Dachvst. Upon seeing the open gate they enter, tempted by food and drink, then more so by men and women exceptional. Any who may stray soon scared back to the path by the mour as they follow along to the Hallowed wood the moans and sounds of lustful debauch drawing them to the pyre the cries of ecstasy sounding as keening and wailing as well to help guide the Raven. As the smoke rises with the Shamans prayers, so the last insects of the year are slowed tempting the smaller creatures of the air and then the Crow, their calls bringing the Raven. As the spirits now frustrated unable to eat, drink or rush seek warmth in the fire, the smoke lifts them high where the calls of the Crows causes the Raven to swoop through, gathering up the spirits and carrying them Koluumn where they may find peace free of Vraste`. So it will go till the end of the festival, any and all of age welcome to participate and learn of the Shamans craft as they harvest their crop of spirits.

The final aspect of the festival is known as the reversal of life in that some aspects of life in Toulokk have no basis that can be exploited for competition. So during this time, and for a duration to be agreed upon one may take on an aspect of life they may never know. Naturally, many mour and Sot seek to discover the supposed benefits of being a warrior, in kind, many warrior and mon or common person the life of slave, free from honor and constraint or responsibility and upon occasion, Shem to Groth and Groth to Shem. So those wishing to try will for a duration denoted in red ribbons about their thigh to state the number of lums they accept the role deleting one each day take on the role of their opposites. Those not participating expected to help guide those who are. So it is not odd during this time to see mour and Sot in armor usually too large upon the wall weapons in hand, or Groth’fed and shem’mon nude and wearing collars false kneeling and taking the expected positions and duties upon command. Although more rare, Shem will be as Groth and Groth as Shem, all expected to treat them fully as such during the duration. All that is required is that during their chosen duration they fulfill the requirements of the rank fully to their best ability, that a true effort be made to learn of ones opposites.

These three aspects of the Trupda’mon tem da Taub’fed help give all of the clan a better understanding and appreciation of all others within it. With perhaps one of the highest compliments a Hammer can give coming from this time. It being “Groth/Shem tem sosh’mon fed Trupda’mon tem da Taub’fed”, meaning He/She has lived many Festivals of the harvest so essentially stating they have an understanding of the benefits, yet most of all difficulties and trials of all others. So a wise and experienced person, well balanced and having experienced most of life indeed.

Trupda’mon tem da Rush’mon tem Mon

(Festival of the Orgy of Balance, January 25th-February 7th)

As the cold icy months of Toulokk grip the valley, the game thins and most of the activity of the clan dwindles to nothing as much of their life is still determined by environment, the people of Toulokk will find their moods turning dark, sleeping longer like the bear or combative even to those most cared for. So for two weeks during the middle of Kot’fed a festival is held for all of age meant to rekindle old relationships and inspire new ones, binding the clan tighter once more as the web of relationships becomes even more entangled. The Orgy of Balance.

Monogamy, infidelity, coveting and modesty truly unknown to the Hammer, the festival itself does nothing against the nature of the peoples. Yet as one might suspect, all people become complacent and lazy in their relationships especially in learning of others, and though gregarious and social, the season alone causing many to shut themselves off from others. So the order from the Moragan himself will go out “that all within Toulokk of age are to come to the Great Warrior Hall, weapons armor and clothing prohibited. As the Shem and Groth of sot mon and fed enter they are greeted by a lavish feast about the outer wall, all manner of food and especially drink available, the bounty of the year. The fires and torches burning hot as the baths from the hot spring that drains into the hall filling the air with steam simply adds to the heat of the room inspiring one to sweat. The cold falls by the back wall pouring from the mountains face itself and the resulting pool tempting and cool.

The rules for all are clear, no Shem will return to their homes each night yet must go to the home of the last Groth or shem they rush with, no one will rush with those they have during the year, and all are expected to rush’mon. Though refusal rare and surprising being of the ways of the Unfaithful, most slowly at first, soon ravenously make use of the festival. For the two weeks it runs any and all of age are permitted in the great warrior hall its doors will not be closed. Below the war councils table the arena of discussion has been lined with furs as have the steps making the seats of this barbaric amphitheater and council chamber. Soon most drunk the arena filled with a writhing sea of flesh, the pools of the springs and falls as well. So all of the clan rush abiding by the rules, the mood ever becoming brighter and unlearned of neighbors soon discovered in all ways. No one having more then their neighbor, during this time all people and all things available to all be they slave to warrior.

As people come and go, unable to sleep or rest in the hall hands of others roaming, eventually they follow the festivals traditions and make their way to their neighbors homes. There they will learn of their neighbors mour, even to the degree that most children of the clan have been fed by the breasts of all other shem. So each not only knowing of their neighbors direct family yet a part of in all ways. “Beware harming a Hammer child it is said as 300 mothers, 300 fathers, 300 uncles, and 300 aunts and the countless brothers and sisters will fall on you heavy”. All adults feeling responsible for all children, all children having many examples to learn from.

So as the adults learn of each other, so do the mour of the adults. New alliances made, as old ones grow stronger. In the end the tale obviously true that to “fight one Hammer you will end up fighting them all” as to determine their kin, the lines so vague you must census all of the Mighty Clan of the Moragan Hamr.

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