Setting:Tabula Gloria/Uralaya/The Alkhani People

Perhaps the most insular of the tribal peoples encountered by the Empire, the Alkhani are inexorably tied to the Forest in which they do not live out of admiration or worship, but only serve out of fear and respect. It is through this fear in which the Alkhani have learned how to communicate with the trees of the Forest, to glean knowledge of the unwritten and convoluted laws in which it abides by. Only through this ability has the Alkhani managed to remain one step ahead of the vengeful woodland spirits of the Forest which can and will extinguish their existence at any given moment. Believing this to be a rare act of mercy by the Forest, the Alkhani in turn are active protectors which take care of its more cunning threats as thanks for such mercy.

The Currency of Blood

So just how do the Alkhani manage to communicate with the very Forest in which they fear? A tribesman makes a visceral pact with the tree in which they seek knowledge from by first carving out a small piece of the tree and extracting some of its sap. He then ingests the sap and experiences a vivid hallucination, describing a threat whose blood the tree desires. At this point, the tribesman goes out and takes care of the threat and returns with the blood in question. Splashing the crimson nectar upon the tree's roots, the sap-drinking ritual is repeated, this time accompanied by a vision which details the knowledge desired by the tribesman. Afterwards, the tribesman chews up some wood into pulp, filling the hole which was bored into the tree as an apology for the wound it caused for the ritual.

Of course, the targets in question varies by both the tree as well as the type of information requested. It may be as simple as culling a number of species growing too large in population. It may be as difficult as slaying one's own progeny to fulfill an ancient grudge the tribesman has never been a part of. But the rewards are usually worth the cost, as the Alkhani are able to evade the paths of the more dangerous fare, such as the aptly-named Uralaya Titans as well as the reptilian, constantly hunting Thrusks.

In Service of the Forest

In the end, the Alkhani not only find relief in their survival, but a sense of happiness in serving the Forest. Throughout their lives and the many hunts in which they partake, the tribesmen learn much about the wonder the Forest has to offer, as well as the various threats which assault upon the surprisingly fragile balance in which it holds. This dedication to service has also led the Alkhani as a whole to have immense pride in themselves, though structurally they are divided into clans based upon the trees in which their ancestors served. Even when their leafy masters order different clans to war against each other, perhaps due to a member of one clan cutting down a tree belonging to another clan, both sides mourn each other's dead, retaining their racial unity despite the orders.

Another thing which unifies the Alkhani in their service is their lack of attachment to outsiders. It is not uncommon to find bands of Alkhani stalking the eastern Wastes of Vashial, the western Garvenus Steppe, the southern reaches of the Phrennoack Forest, or even the southwestern plains of the Empire itself in search of quarry assigned to them by their trees. It is also not uncommon when the occasional Shialar nomad of the Wastes, Stormlord of the Steppe, Eltyain or Yatoka of Phrennoack, or an Imperial of the Empire is abducted into the Forest, never to be seen again. As such, it is usually advised by the Empire to avoid the distinct Alkhani altogether.

Maintaining the Natural Order

Once in a while though, there will be an errant tribesman who will try to break forth from the shackles of the Forest, to eke out an independent life. More often than not, the Forest will take care of them, sending out its various creatures and other clans of the Alkhani to consume the erroneous tribesman and return the essence of his life back into the Forest. For one who makes it outside of the Forest, they are spared its wrath and can further pursue independence, though others' prejudice against his kind will likely do him in anyway. But woe be to the detractor whose aspirations are found out by his own tribe. He is dragged through the unforgiving Forest southward, to the edge bordering the Wastes of Weylos. This is arguably where the bulk of the Forest's magics reside, coalescing with the lingering souls of Weylosian militants. The Forest harnesses this combination of magics and souls to make the traitorous tribesman into its own image, creating what is only known as a Greenman.

Those who become Greenmen are violently stripped of their human souls, consumed by the Forest. However, their bodies remain as mere husks in which the Forest infiltrates, growing itself into it until the sheer power and will of the Forest combines with the flexibility and cunning of the tribesman, creating the perfect hunter for which the Forest can pursue its enemies. It is also the perfect ambassador and ally of those wishing to protect the Forest. Such deviance from service will not be tolerated, even if the Forest has to blot it out itself.

Moments of Reprieve

Despite their service to the Forest, the Alkhani do have their moments to shine. Among their kind they possess keen astronomers, capable of climbing atop the highest trees (with the trees' permission, of course) and gazing into the heavens, mapping the stars of sheets of slate and recording celestial events with intense interest. For each solar eclipse is an event to be remembered. The land slumbers, the trees fall into deep sleeps, and their servants close their eyes to rest. This is the one time when the Alkhani are unshackled and the Forest loses all of its danger. When the moon covers the sun, the Alkhani become the rulers of Uralaya and gather in a massive festival in the dark heart of the Forest. The revelers illuminate the Forest with fire and douse the land with pilfered alcohol, filling their bellies with food and drink and enjoying a rare and cherished moment of freedom, united and bursting with joy. Even outsiders are welcome to these festivities, the only time when Imperial scholars have spoken to Alkhani tribesmen outside of captivity.

This moment of peace and tranquility to enjoy themselves is all that the Alkhani ask for and frequently enough that at least one shall happen in every tribesman's lifetime. When the Forest reawakens by the end of the eclipse, the Alkhani resign themselves to running once more from the Titans and the Ingwey and the Greenmen and the Order of the Patch and resign themselves to serving their sky-obscuring masters once more.

The Forest Today

The Uralaya Forest remains a dark, unforgiving land, full of savage beasts and darkness that can only be countered by swearing allegiance to the Forest itself and wetting its endless thirst for blood. Its people are just as primitive and primal as the land that they come from, a testament to a forgotten age, to a time before time, when all men were beneath nature, before they climbed out of their primordial slavery and grew to dominate the world. It is no wonder that many scholars refer to Uralaya as the "cradle of humanity" and the Alkhani as the first of our kind. It is a land, they say, to be both protected and avoided, kept safe from the threats of the outside world, a timeless treasure, forever preserving the origins of sentient life.