Wolgos of Dhonowlgos

The cultures of Dhonowlgos Wolgos and their cultural traditions and lifestyles in the historic nation of Dhonowlgos.

Tribalism

Woglos tribalism traces its origins to the end of the Wolgos lordship period and the foundation of Dhonowlgos itself. As the lordships lost their military power and became subjects of monastic rule, they evolved over the next centuries. Leveraging their land holdings and common folk subjects, the lordships transformed from military entities into tribes. Before the year 3100, the Wolgos did not have clan or tribal names, often using only a single name and identifying each other by their origin and parentage. However, as lords began to enforce a stronger regional identity tied to their landholdings and families, they started giving their subjects the toponymic name of their lordship as a tribal name.

Clans began to develop within tribes by the mid-3300s, with villages or connected families adopting clan names to distinguish themselves within their tribes. This practice was promoted by tribal elites to further differentiate themselves from the common folk. Clans provided a way for elites to maintain their status and influence within the broader tribal structure. This system of clans within tribes created a layered identity for the Wolgos people, giving them a sense of belonging and a clear social hierarchy.

By the late 7400s, thousands of years of internal administrative boundary changes and the evolution of toponymy and the Wolgos language had erased many tribal connections to geographical locations. Indeed, some tribes had entirely relocated from their original geographical origins. This constant flux in territorial boundaries and the movement of tribes contributed to a complex and fluid tribal landscape. Despite these changes, tribal identities remained robust and integral to the social fabric of Wolgos society.

During the Dhonowlgos eras, tribal identities were not championed by the state. In fact, at many points in history, the monks attempted to stamp out or erase tribal identities with little success. Despite these efforts, tribal identities persisted and remained relevant, providing an alternative power structure and culture to monastic rule. Tribal identities, culture, and allegiances moderated the reach of monastic rule and outright prevented puritanical tendencies from the administration from completely stifling cultural and artistic expression. Tribal leaders often held significant influence, and their support was crucial for implementing state policies, ensuring that the state could not become too authoritarian.

Tribes and clans offered a sense of belonging and identity, creating social cohesion within the broader Wolgos society. They were integral in organizing community life, rituals, and traditions. Tribes preserved unique cultural practices, dialects, and artistic expressions that might have been lost under monastic rule. This cultural diversity enriched the overall Wolgos civilization. The decentralized nature of tribal society allowed the Wolgos to adapt more easily to changing environmental and political conditions. Tribes could relocate, merge, or split as needed, ensuring the survival and continuity of the Wolgos people.

Throughout history, the state, particularly the monastic administration, attempted to suppress tribal identities, seeing them as a threat to centralized control. However, these efforts met with limited success. Tribal identities provided an alternative power structure that moderated the reach of monastic rule and prevented puritanical tendencies from completely stifling culture and artistic expression. Tribes often preserved cultural practices and rituals that the monastic state viewed as unorthodox or subversive, thus maintaining a cultural resilience against homogenization.

Tribal identities played a crucial role in fostering artistic and cultural expression. The unique traditions, dialects, and artistic styles of different tribes enriched the Wolgos civilization. Tribal festivals, ceremonies, and rituals provided a platform for cultural expression and innovation, often in opposition to the more austere monastic regulations. This cultural vibrancy ensured that the Wolgos society remained dynamic and adaptable. Tribal allegiances and rivalries significantly influenced the political and social dynamics of Wolgos society. Tribal leaders often held considerable sway in local governance and could mobilize their members for collective action. These dynamics created a complex interplay between tribal and monastic authorities, leading to a more balanced and diverse political landscape. Tribal councils and gatherings became important venues for negotiating power and resolving conflicts, ensuring that no single authority could dominate the society entirely.

Art From Dhonowlgos

Ancient Wolgos Arts
Fresco of Wolgos hunters hunting a bear with their barehand - circa -2000 CE	Vase of tortured souls - Common motifs during the -1800's to -1500's CE	Phallic symbology became more prominent by the year 1200 CE
Dhonowlgos Era Tapestry
Eokoesr toiling - Tapestry of a rural scene - 5430 CE	Nurturing beauty - Tapestry depicting the myth of pale forest women hunting humans, a myth idealised by the Wolgos - 6802 CE	7105 CE Haiter Tapestry - Example of tapestry styles common between 7000's and the 7500's	Pan-Anarian war era Hlrike tapestry commemorating the destruction of Anibar, Nestor - 7498 CE
Paintings from Dhonowlgos

Festivals

Old Dhonowlgos was a land of deep traditions closely tied to their religious piety and the cycles of the seasons and celestial movements. Themes of fertility, harvest and appeasing the spirits of nature were common; all these festivals still exist but have evolved in how they are celebrated two centuries since the collapse of Dhonowlgos.

Simplified Calendar

Wolgos Months	Balsho	Leudhon	Khandh	Domenthon	Kwermergos	Erogwes	Linseknto	Eskwnti	Talnos
Orkanan Months	Vetrun	Thrimil	Estorun	Blots	Suna	Herfa	Halyga	Wintar	Solma
Theme			Spring equinox		Summer Solstice festival	harvest and gratitude, indulgence		Appeasing the sea	Winter Solstice festival
Festivals			Ḱlewdáwis, Tíngwl̥s Dhéḱmon		Gwḗntis Tl̥gwéntis	Ṭlókwis Méntis, Bhelkʷóm Dheigwís		Tmr̥ós Dhléwmēti	Tḷérhhtis Ghérwis
Festivals with moving date	Rúdhr̥dhéḱmon

Ḱlewdáwis

Ḱlewdáwis is the spring equinox festival and is tied to the renewal of life and the blooming of foliage and flowers. The festival begins on the second hess (oda) of the month, khanda, the temple day for the Wolgos, but preparations are made a few days beforehand. The festival starts early in the morning, with Wolgos men travelling to the river bank to wash completely under Alir's first light and the crisp morning chill. Women wait for them on the riverbank, drying them and dressing them in their temple day finery.

Men and women sing as they make their way to the temple, which has been prepared for today's festivals with candlelight and copious bouquets of flowers and petals strewn over the temple floor. Women make their way to the sides of the temple nave as the men line up before a small table with a large, richly decorated silver goblet-like vessel. The table and vessel are surrounded by a waist-high dignity curtain embroidered in gold and crimson.

As women sing and monks chant spring songs of worship, men walk in small groups towards the goblet and, for a moment, each work on ejaculating their seed into the vessel. A task that can take a few hours to fill the large goblet with Wolgos male seed.

In the evening service, the goblet is brought forth and mixed with woad dye to give it a deep blue-indigo colour. Young women and those women wishing to remain fertile line up before the goblet held by the monks; the monks paint the Dlrochsteg on their foreheads one by one as a sacred blessing.

Tíngwl̥s Dhéḱmon

This festival takes place the day after Ḱlewdáwis, a day that is normally a work day taken as an extra festival day. A very important festival day in the Wolgos calendar that celebrated the coming of the age of boys and girls. Preparations for the festival include decorating a town square or gathering field with flowers, garlands, colourful bunting and foliage and placing a cordoned area for dancing that is surrounded by seats and benches.

Girls who are becoming women are dressed in their finest white dresses and wear a crown of woven flowers and ribbons; the men boys also wear their best and polish their boots and groom their tall Torgwedhos hats. Wearing a colourful crimson scarf around their waist.

The girls are led to the festival atop a haiter by their fathers, brothers, or whoever is the patriarch of their family. The boys are led by their mothers, who bind the boys' hands by the wrists with a fine, long band of white linen. The boys are sat around the dancing areas where the girls would dance in synchrony for them and from where they would reach out and feed them sweet treats.

After the main dance is over and the monks bless the boys, their mothers unbind their hands, and they are allowed to find a girl to dance with as music plays. The bound hands are meant to signify control over their urges and the unbinding the crossing into adulthood.

After the public celebration, boys and girls are allowed to go for a walk on their own to signify the start of courtship, but in reality, it's more performative in most cases than true courtship. The boys and girls return home to celebrate with their families.

Gwḗntis Tl̥gwéntis

Gwḗntis Tl̥gwéntis is the summer solstice celebration; it is the summer feast for the Wolgos to celebrate the creation of Alir and their stewardship over creation. The festival takes place at night, and it's often a communal affair with monks and elders telling stories of the creation myths and heroes. Actors and showmanship men will perform plays and theatrical displays to entertain and teach the myths of stewardship and creation. The feast is not enjoyed indoors, but in the streets of towns or village fields; families bring out tables and chairs and decorate their streets or fields with bunting and candles, each family bringing out dishes and treats to share with their neighbours during the communal feast.

As a day of stewardship over creation, the Wolgos must do their pious duty and provide the Eokoesr with a two-day rest period and "graces." The graces of stewardship are typically a much larger rest day meal: typically, they are given a loaf of fresh bread, butter, a jug of heavy cream, pickles, a rash of cured meat, and a full jug of cheap grain spirits. The Wolgos typically give a simple rough woollen blanket as a grace gift, a gift the Eokoesr keep for the rest of the year as a comfort for cold nights and against hard floors.

Many shops used to sell premade Eokoesr grace packages to reduce their owner's burden to a minimum.

The Eokoesr were typically allowed to stay the night out in the Eokoesr gathering field around a warm fire to enjoy the company of each other. The poker share their grace gifts and enjoy a brief moment of merriment.

Pastoral Eokoesr, with their greater independence, will typically be given more substantial gifts, such as a bolt of colourful fabric or two, thread, jar of honey, salt, some spices and a whole large feast bird or leg of mutton to have a feast of their own.

Ṭlókwis Méntis and Bhelkwóm Dheigwís

Ṭlókwis Méntis is a festival of penance and gratitude for a bountiful harvest. Wolgos men will parade shirtless around town and in villages carrying a loop of rough rope. They beat their backs and chests with the rope as they recite incantations and prayers of gratitude to Dlrocha. They do so in groups to the point of exhaustion or when the pain makes it too difficult to keep going. Wolgos women would pray at home, prostrate and stand, and repeat until it was time to go out and tend to their men.

Bhelkwóm Dheigwís takes place the following night after recuperation, it's a festival of debauchery and indulgence. For children its a day of innocent delight, children are taken to the care of older family members who allow them to play all day long and give them a feast of treats, cream and other indulgences. before bed children and they grandparents will light up fireworks and light up lanterns to let go floating into the night sky.

Couples, men and women, young couples take the opportunity to enjoy a night of drinking and partying. Couples might celebrate alone intimately, or they might share each other with other couples, or men might visit brothels. The festival has a pragmatic use, it allows all men to retain an image of virility as it allows their wives to be impregnated by others if they are infertile, and children born from the deeds of the festival are not seen as illegitimate.

Tmr̥ós Dhléwmēti

Tmr̥ós Dhléwmēti was one of the darkest festivals of old Dhonowlgos and was only performed by coastal communities, and these communities had special isolated homes staffed by wolgos women who raised and nurtured with feigned love and care Eokoesr children. They were raised to know no harm or hate, only love until they reached the age when they became young adults. When they became adults, as understood at the time, they were taken in late fall during a stormy evening to a cliffside sacrificial platform before the violent sea. The whole community would gather as the Eokoesr would be painfully sacrificed to the sea with the aim of making the Eokoesr feel betrayed in their terror, thereby mirroring and satiating the treachery of the sea.

Tḷérhhtis Ghérwis

Tḷérhhtis Ghérwis is the second two-day rest day feast of creation and stewardship, celebrating the longest night of the year. This is a private extended family celebration, unlike the summer solstice, a festival where the Wolgos dwell on the fragility of creation as winter sets in and nature hibernates. The cold stars are watched and celebrated with the wolgos seeking meaning in the starry night sky, lighting constellations of candles outside their homes and farmhouses, lighting lanterns featuring monsters to ward off corruption and death for another year. The family will have a feast of game birds or wild board and many other dishes after leading richly decorated haither stags through town and stopping for drinks at friends and family.

The Eokoesr knew this festival as the festival of socks, as their grace package typically contained two pairs of sturdy woollen socks with a leather sole. Their packages usually contained dark spirits and rich, dense dried fruit cakes, cured boar meat, meat jerky, peppery crackers, butter and pickled carrots and cabbage. The Eokoesr wore a pair of socks to sleep and the other to walk and work outside. Some used to wear a pair as mittens and depended on them to ward off the cold chill of winter from their otherwise nude body only covered by a woollen blanket. The Eokoesr, during this festival, gather in a permitted barn or warehouse so they may enjoy each other's company away from the cold of winter.

Rúdhr̥dhéḱmon - Night of Torches

Rúdhr̥dhéḱmon has no fixed date but occurs once a year when monks predict Hela and Tyr will be the brightest in the night sky. This tinting of the night sky in red and violet hues gives it a blood-like tint. When a date is set, the temples are decorated, torches are made, and tall pine trees are felled and topped with a long metal pole. Eokesr sacrifices are chosen for two separate sacrifices, twenty for the temple and twenty others for the town square. Wolgos from villages and farmsteads will travel to their nearest town for the festival; they will eat street vendor food and pastries often shaped like human figures, and drink beer and spirits stained with berries to look like blood. They will also drink auroch blood, but wealthier Wolgos used to pay for Eokoesr to be blood-let so they could drink their blood as an act of luxurious indulgence.

The Wolgos would form processions, carrying torches and chanting in unison, songs with a deep, harsh voice increasing in crescendo as they reached the square. At the square, the tall pine poles have been set upright with an Eokoesr sacrifice bound tightly with straps of linnen and tar. The wolgos will change and fill the square as they assemble around the poles, when the chant reaches its appropriate part the poles will be set alight, and the blood-curdling screams of the Eokoesr will form part os the symphony of the sacred chants.

When the screams have died down, and the cheering concluded the Wolgos would assemble before the temple where twenty other nude Eokoesr, washed and groomed, kneel before a basin with their head hovering over the large bronze basin. Men of notoriety assemble behind the eokoesr and await as the monks chant and recite sermons. Then the lead monk gives a signal the men plunge a dagger into their throats and hold the Eokoesr in place as their blood fills the richly decorated basin. The multitude of wolgos would then dip their fingers into the blood and smear it on their forehead. The heads of the Eokoesr are given as rewards to men and women who are being recognised for their deeds, as the warm eokoesr brain is considered a luxurious food to be eaten fresh with milk, as they are consuming the soul of the Eokoesr itself.

Examples of Wolgos life in Old Dhonowlgos

A Day in the Life of a

Wolgos Farmer in a Pastoral Area

Wolgos Overseer in the Cinder Plain

Early Morning The first light of dawn breaks over the rugged highlands, casting a golden hue over the Wolgos homestead. The farmer rises from his feather-filled bed box, stretching out his muscular frame adorned with the blue-hued tattoos of his lineage and religious devotion. The central hearth, which has kept the air warm through the night, continues to circulate heat throughout the stone and brick homestead, ensuring a comfortable start to the day. He begins with a moment of silent prayer to Dlrocha, a practice he follows religiously. He then reaches for his copy of the Leykold, the sacred book, and reads a passage, seeking guidance and strength for the day ahead. After this spiritual beginning, he dresses in his well-made but practical clothing—sturdy cotton and woolen trousers, a cotton undershirt, a woolen tunic, a tall embroidered felt hat, and sturdy leather boots. His tall stiff felt hat had been carefully brushed, and his boots had been shined to perfection. Every day, the youngest son of the Eokoesr servant comes before first light to polish the boots of the home and brush all hats. He descends the wooden staircase from the second floor to the ground floor, where the hearth and kitchen are located. His wife, already awake, is preparing breakfast in their rustic yet beautifully furnished kitchen. The scent of fried eggs and cooked meats fills the air. Breakfast and Preparations The family gathers in the first-floor family room, where the table is set with aged, moldy, fragrant bread, cheese, smoked meat, fried eggs, and a jug of fresh milk and another of heavy cream. The farmer’s wife serves breakfast, and they discuss the day's tasks. Their children, who are old enough to assist with lighter duties, listen attentively. The family meal is an important time for bonding and planning, and the farmer emphasizes the importance of their work and their duty to their ancestors and Dlrocha. Morning Chores After breakfast, the farmer and his older sons head out to the pastures. The air is crisp and fresh, filled with the sounds of nature—the bleating of sheep, the lowing of cattle, and the distant calls of birds. His first task is to check on the livestock. He walks through the fields, inspecting the animals for any signs of illness or injury, moving with a practiced ease that comes from years of experience. His Eokoesr servant, who lives with his family in a small adjacent cottage, joins him along with the older Eokoesr’s sons. They work together in a routine that has become second nature. The Eokoesr handles some of the more repetitive tasks, such as mucking out the stalls and ensuring the animals have fresh water, while the Wolgos men tend to more skilled labor, like treating any sick animals or repairing fences. The farmer occasionally quotes passages from the Leykold, using its wisdom to guide his decisions and actions. Mid-Morning Work By mid-morning, the farmer, his sons, and his Eokoesr servant and his sons move on to other tasks. Today, they are preparing a new field for sowing. The farmer's sons use a plow, pulled by a strong haiter, to turn the earth while he guides the reluctant haiter. He works in a rhythmic pattern, muscles straining as he guides the haiter in straight lines. The Eokoesr men follow behind, breaking up large clumps of soil and scattering manure to fertilize the ground. This work is strenuous but vital for ensuring a good harvest. Throughout the morning, the farmer’s daughter brings him water and small snacks to keep their energy up. On this occasion, a jug of creamy milk, cheese, fried fermented meat strips, and a flask with milky spirit are provided. Both the Wolgos and Eokoesr take a break, sitting in separate groups as they eat their snacks. The Eokoesr eat a hunk of bread and butter they brought with them. The farmer, being the head of the farm and its household, is the stabilizing force that keeps order on the farm and fosters harmony with the Eokoesr. His sons are still somewhat hot-blooded and can’t help themselves from taunting the Eokoesr’s sons, flicking little pebbles at them as they smirk and laugh, but not for long as the Wolgos farmer reprimands them. The farmer’s other children occasionally come out to help with lighter tasks or bring messages. The Eokoesr servant interacts respectfully with them, always maintaining a proper distance. The farmer takes pride in teaching his children the values of hard work and responsibility, ensuring they understand the importance of every task. He also uses these moments to impart wisdom from the Leykold, reinforcing the spiritual and moral lessons of their culture. Lunch Break At noon, they break for lunch. The Wolgos men return home and gather again with their family, this time around a large wooden table in the shade of a large oak tree near the house. The meal is simple but nourishing: cold cuts of fermented meat from brine jars, pickled vegetables from the garden, more cheese, and cooked mushrooms. The Eokoesr men retire to their cottage for lunch to share a meal with their own family. The farmer’s children run about, the younger boys’ laughter in the background turns into shouts as they fall out and get into a scrap. The farmer and the older brothers cheer on the younger boys as they punch and kick each other, wrestling on the grass and dirt. The adults enjoy a shot of hard spirit at the end of the meal as the mother soothes the younger boy who lost the fight, listening to his complaints as the other brother makes grimaces at him. The daughters enjoy cold chamomile tea as they giggle and gossip together, enjoying the noon warmth. Afternoon Tasks After lunch, the farmer and his sons, along with the Eokoesr men, return to work. The heat of the day requires them to pace themselves. They spend the afternoon repairing the barn roof, a task that requires both strength and precision. The farmer climbs the ladder with a bundle of new thatch, which he carefully lays out and secures. The Eokoesr hands up tools and materials, ensuring everything is within reach while his sons help to prepare thatching for the roof. As they work, the Wolgos shares stories of the past, tales of humor and cunning. The Eokoesr listens quietly as they work, knowing they must not join in. Though their roles are different, there is a mutual respect born of shared labor and the rhythms of farm life. Throughout the day, the farmer occasionally interacts with his Eokoesr servants in ways that reinforce the social hierarchy but also show a degree of paternalistic care. He might offer a kind word or a small piece of advice, always maintaining a clear distinction between their roles. At times, he ensures the Eokoesr have the tools and resources they need to perform their tasks efficiently. The farmer’s wife also plays a role, often bringing extra groceries or alcohol to the Eokoesr family as a gesture of goodwill. Evening As the sun begins to set, they finish their work and clean up. The farmer takes a moment to wash in the stream, the cold water refreshing after a long day of toil. He then checks the livestock one last time, ensuring all is well before heading back to the homestead. Dinner and Reflection Dinner is a warm affair, the family gathered around the table once more. They enjoy a hearty stew made from the meat of their own livestock, complemented by root vegetables and more matured bread. The farmer discusses the day’s accomplishments and plans for tomorrow, imparting lessons to his children and ensuring they understand the importance of their work. After dinner, he brings out his Leykold and reads passages to his family for them to digest before he asks questions to help them understand the passages and their lessons. Nighttime Rituals After dinner, he relaxes with hot root tea as he waits for his bath. Not long after, his wife calls him to the washing room where she has filled a copper tub with steaming water from the washroom’s water heater. The tiled room is filled with steam and candlelight. He slowly lowers his strong but aching body into the tub, relaxing as he lays his back against the tub and feels the hot soapy water against his pale skin. His wife scrubs his body as he relaxes and lathers his hair, rinsing him thoroughly after a few minutes, washing away the grime and musk of a long day. Before coming out of the tub, he kisses his wife and guides her hand back into the tub, giving her a knowing look with a smirk. His wife obliges with his request. After his bath and before bed, the farmer performs a final round of prayers, thanking Dlrocha for the day's blessings and asking for protection through the night. He then retires to bed, settling down into his bed box with its soft feather mattress and pillows, covering his body with sweet-smelling linen and quilted covers. His body is weary but his spirit content, ready to face another day in the life of a Wolgos farmer.

Early Morning The day begins before the sun has fully risen, casting a faint, grey light over the Cinder Plains. The Wolgos overseer rises from his bed in the workers' housing—a sturdy stone and brick structure with wooden paneling and floors, built to withstand the harsh conditions. The home is kept warm by a central hearth, the air circulating to keep the chill at bay. His bedding, a mix of feathers and quilted blankets, provides much-needed comfort after a night's rest. Upon waking, his wife massages his back and legs before he drags himself out of bed with great reluctance. Soon after getting up, he washes his face and rubs a sticky lanolin balm round his neck, feet, forearms, and hands to protect them from the abrasive volcanic dust that blows across the Cinder Plains. He first wears his woolen balaclava, followed by his woolen socks and leather gloves with lanolin smeared on the inside. The overseer then dons his practical outer layers. He wears thick woolen trousers, a heavy cotton undershirt, and a woolen tunic, all tailored to withstand the abrasive environment. Over this, he pulls on a leather fur-lined bale with a hood to shield himself from the harsh winds and volcanic debris. His eyes, sensitive to the bright glare, are protected by a pair of blacked glass glasses with side shields. These provide necessary protection and also add to his intimidating appearance. He begins his day with a brief prayer to Dlrocha, seeking the patience and strength required for the relentless challenges ahead. He reads a passage from the Leykold, the sacred book, finding a small measure of peace before the day’s turmoil. In the small kitchen, his wife has prepared a hearty breakfast. The smell of hot root tea, moldy fragrant bread, cheese, and smoked meat fills the air. They eat in silence, the overseer’s thoughts already on the tasks that await. His wife’s arms console him as he eats and stares into the distance. He knows the day will be filled with frustrations and obstacles, primarily caused by the never-ending series of emergencies as pipes burst and industry cries out for a steady supply of steam. The ineptitude and frailty of the Eokoesr laborers he must supervise is testing, nevertheless, they offer him a reprieve from his daily tensions when he has a reason to punish them. Morning Work As he steps outside, the cold wind cuts through the volcanic gravel of the Cinder Plains. The environment is a harsh mix of heat from the ground and biting cold from the winds. He makes his way to the maintenance yard and the Eokoesr lock-up barracks. He and the other Wolgos blare the morning horn, waking up the Eokoesr and watching them lumber out as they stream through the now-opened metal doors of their barracks. He can’t help but wretch as the stench of the unwashed masses of Eokoesr wafts out of the lock-up barracks. He stands in front of a square painted on the cobbled courtyard, just like all other overseers do in front of a square of their own. Instinctively, the Eokoesr line up inside the painted square in front of him. These thirty-something Eokoesr are his charges for today. He must squeeze every ounce of labor from them, discipline them, but at the same time prevent them from unwittingly killing themselves in the Cinder Plains. The overseer’s mood darkens as he surveys the pitiful sight before him. The Eokoesr, with their blistered hands and feet, filthy bodies, and nearly black rags that serve as makeshift coverings for their feet, shiver in the cold air. They are skinny but wiry, their muscles scarred and showing the effects of long-ago injuries. His contempt and disgust are evident as he retrieves a steaming bucket full of oat mash. Barley husks and other discarded foodstuffs from nearby industries are used to make the Eokoesr slop. He pours the slop directly onto a large, flat, and concave stone laid in the middle of the painted square. As soon as he pours it, the Eokoesr rush around him to devour the slop. He can’t help snarling in disgust as the Eokoesr knock against each other and even him in their desperation to eat. After feeding his charges, he marches them out of the maintenance yard. Most march in line, some drag tools and carry spare sheets of metal for repairs. They march into the Cinder Plains, the cold morning howling winds battering the naked Eokoesr as their barely protected feet walk over the hot, abrasive ground. The overseer patrols the pipeline network, his eyes squinting through the protective glasses to spot any signs of laziness or incompetence as the Eokoesr dig with their rags and leather scraps wrapped around their hands. They dig around a spot on the ground billowing clouds of steam; here, just below the ground, a buried steam pipe has burst. The steam pipes, essential for powering nearby textile mills and machining workshops, frequently burst due to the intense pressure and heat they carry. Any downtime directly affects production, increasing his frustration. He moves among the Eokoesr, his presence a constant reminder of the consequences of failure. His temper flares easily, and he doesn’t hesitate to use his pole to punish those who slow down or pretend to work. The punishments are severe and swift—harsh beatings or even more brutal measures as required. Nevertheless, they are not his property, and he must do his best to return to the maintenance yard with as many as he left with. The Eokoesr work with a mix of fear and desperation, aware that any lapse in effort will bring immediate retribution. Their bodies, already weakened by long hours of labor and inadequate food, are pushed to their limits. Nevertheless, they toil until they uncover the burst pipe billowing out steam with a deafening whistle. Under the direction of the Wolgos, they quickly cut a band from the spare metal sheet to wrap around the fissure on the pipe, filling the grooves in the sheet with thermite. Once the Eokoesr have wrapped the thermite-filled band of metal and crimped it tight, he lights the fuse to ignite the thermite and weld shut the fissure. As the thermite burns, the band of metal glows red and the billowing steam diminishes and then stops. As soon as it stops, the Eokoesr race to rebury the pipe to prevent it from cracking under the cold air and possibly exploding in front of them, sending shrapnel in all directions. The Wolgos retreats to a safe distance as the Eokoesr rebury the steam pipe, taking a swig from a spirit flask in his fur-lined cloak. Mid-Morning Break Around mid-morning, the overseer takes a brief break. He finds a sheltered spot behind a windbreak, sitting to have a quick snack—dried meat, cheese, and a flask of strong spirits. This moment of solitude allows him to gather his thoughts and plan the next set of tasks. His mind, however, is never far from the constant irritation of managing the Eokoesr. He watches them as they huddle together behind windbreaks, unable to help himself from looking at them with contempt as they huddle for warmth and pick at moss growing on the windbreak to eat. He takes a wedge of cheese and crumbles it in his gloved hand, throwing the crumbs to the ground in front of the Eokoesr, who without hesitation throw themselves at the crumbs, picking through the hot gravel to find any morsels for sustenance. The Wolgos overseer can’t help but bellow out a deep hearty laugh at the sight. Not satisfied, the overseer takes a sliver of dried meat from his pocket, whistling at the Eokoesr to get their attention as he taunts them with the strip of dried meat, beckoning them. The Eokoesr freeze in place, only one hesitant Eokoesr brave enough to approach the Wolgos. The Eokoesr cautiously approaches the Wolgos, who smiles nastily. Reaching for the strip with his fingers, the Eokoesr is quickly grabbed by the wrist with the overseer’s other hand as the now-panicked Eokoesr tries to pull away. The Wolgos slaps the Eokoesr on the side of the head with all his strength before lifting the Eokoesr and stuffing the strip of meat into his mouth, laughing heartily at the spectacle. Afternoon Work The afternoon is filled with the relentless demands of repairing and maintaining the steam pipes. The overseer directs the Eokoesr in laying new pipes and patching up old ones, a backbreaking task that involves digging through the hard volcanic gravel. He watches them closely, his patience thin as the hours drag on. He coordinates with foremen at the textile mills and workshops, ensuring the steam supply remains uninterrupted. Any failure in the pipes means halted production, which would reflect poorly on his leadership. The pressure to maintain efficiency is immense, and his tolerance for mistakes is nonexistent. Throughout the day, the overseer’s interactions with the Eokoesr are marked by a stark hierarchy. He offers no kindness, only directives and criticisms. The Eokoesr, for their part, work in silence, their spirits broken by years of oppression and abuse. Evening and Dinner As the sun sets, the overseer rounds up the Eokoesr, ensuring all tasks are completed or sufficiently progressed. He makes his final inspections, noting any remaining issues for the night shift to handle. The Eokoesr are exhausted, their bodies broken and spirits crushed, but they receive no sympathy. They are sent back to their cramped lock-ups, while he returns to his housing. Dinner is a somber affair, shared with his family in their small but well-built home. The meal consists of hearty stew, root vegetables, and fermented foods. Conversation is minimal, focused on the day’s frustrations and the endless cycle of maintenance and repair. After dinner, he reads another passage from the Leykold, seeking solace and guidance. As he reads, his wife holds his head on her lap, caressing his face and running her fingers gently through his hair. The Wolgos man occasionally looks at her and smiles, enjoying the soothing and nurturing embrace of his dedicated wife. Night time Before bed, he sits on a stool while his wife massages his back and arms, then brings a brush and tooth powder. Opening his mouth and revealing his yellow-white teeth and gums, both stained green and black where they meet due to years of oere chewing, she gently brushes his teeth and gums despite his occasional whimpers of pain. His powerful maw and four canines are intact but weathered by oere. Afterwards, the overseer takes a moment to unwind in his wife’s embrace. He reflects on the day’s trials and the seemingly unending struggle. He prays once more, asking Dlrocha for strength and endurance. Finally, he retires to bed, his body weary and his spirit heavy with the weight of another day in the unforgiving Cinder Plains. The cycle will begin anew with the dawn, each day a test of his patience and resolve in the face of relentless challenges and the ceaseless demands of his position.

A Day in the Life of a

Wolgos town dweller, a shop keeper

Wolgos provincial monk

Early Morning The dawn light filters through the tall, narrow windows of the Wolgos townhouse, casting a warm glow on the polished wooden floors. The shopkeeper stirs within his sleeping box—a built-in compartment designed to retain warmth and provide privacy. The wooden box, adorned with carved floral motifs, is centred in the couple's spacious bedroom. The walls are hung with draping tapestries depicting mythical scenes: haiter stags locked in battle beneath sprawling, sacred trees, their antlers intertwining as if part of the forest itself. The faint scent of incense lingers, mingling with the earthy aroma of the freshly stoked hearth downstairs, creating a tranquil start to the day. The shopkeeper stretches, his movements stiff and deliberate, his joints creaking from decades of hard work. He pads across the room to the cupboard at the foot of the bed, where a large ceramic bowl of water, left fresh the night before by the Eokoesr servant, waits. He splashes his face, the cool water invigorating him, and begins shaving with a bone-handled razor. Each stroke is precise, the sharp blade gliding against his jawline. To the Wolgos, unkempt facial hair is seen as a marker of laziness and degradation—a characteristic of Eokoesr men, never of their masters. The rhythmic scrape of the razor is accompanied by his quiet musings, a moment of personal reflection before the demands of the day claim him. Meanwhile, his wife stands by the mirror, brushing her long platinum-white hair into an intricate style that befits her age and station. The glinting strands catch the morning light as she twists them into a dignified braid, securing it with silver pins shaped like haiter antlers. She adjusts her undergarments before donning her woollen dress, a modest yet finely embroidered garment adorned with subtle floral patterns and motifs of haiter. The embroidery speaks not of extravagance but of refined taste and their respectable standing within the community. Before descending to breakfast, the couple kneel side by side before a low table set against one wall. Upon the table is a shallow, round bronze bowl filled with water that flickers in the candlelight. Before the bowl is a large idealized image of Dlrocha, the creator. The shopkeeper recites prayers from memory. His voice is low and resonant as he offers thanks for another day and guidance for the tasks ahead. His wife remains silent but attentive, her hands folded in reverence as she follows his lead. Breakfast Downstairs, the Eokoesr servants are already hard at work. The servant boy, no older than twelve, kneels on the floor with a brush and cloth, polishing the tall felt hats of the household. His thin fingers work quickly and with practised precision, ensuring that every surface is free from blemishes or fuzz. Next, he moves on to the men's boots, applying a fine polish until they shine with a mirror-like lustre. In the kitchen, his mother, a woman weathered by years of servitude, attends to her own tasks. She has already returned from the dairy, hauling two heavy cans—one filled with fresh cream and the other with warm auroch blood. Her face is lined with age and exhaustion, but her hands remain deft as she brushes the Wolgos women's outer garments, ensuring they are immaculate. Descending the narrow staircase, the shopkeeper is greeted by the crackling warmth of the kitchen hearth. His wife is already waiting, standing at the long wooden table with a steaming ceramic cup of root tea in her hand. She hands it to him with a brief nod before returning to her duties. The table is set for breakfast, a simple yet nourishing spread of fragrant, mouldy bread paired with freshly churned butter, slices of smoked meat, and a communal bowl of warm, thick auroch blood. The shopkeeper sits at the head of the table as his sons file in—young men, some newly come of age, and boys still finding their place in the family hierarchy. Their demeanour is jovial but respectful towards their father, and the older ones beam with pride towards their own wives sitting opposite them. A cooing sound emanated from one of the young wives, as she is breastfeeding the shopkeeper's newborn grandson. The Eokoesr do not join this meal. Such privileges are far beyond their station. Instead, after finishing his tasks, the Eokoesr boy is given the leftovers of coagulated auroch blood in an old, chipped bowl that the house mistress has gifted him for his use. He crouches in the corner of the kitchen, slurping the blood eagerly, knowing that this small indulgence will sustain him until the midday meal—the only substantial food he and his mother will receive today. The shopkeeper allows his wife's act of "generosity" without comment, as this indulgence will help the boy work hard throughout the day. The mother, watching from the corner of the kitchen as she folds the household's laundry, betrays no emotion. She is careful not to draw attention to herself or her son by being emotional or nurturing to him in view of the Wolgos, for its known that the Wolgos see such Eokoesr expressions of humanity with discomfort. Opening the Shop The shopkeeper and his sons move downstairs, where the general store occupies the ground floor of their bustling townhouse. The heavy wooden shutters are swung open, revealing a meticulously organized store. Shelves sag under the weight of goods: bolts of fabric, glass jars filled with pickled vegetables, boxes of powdered dyes, jars of aromatic spices, and an assortment of tools. Outside, the cobblestone street hums with activity as neighbouring shopkeepers prepare their businesses for the day. Behind the scenes, the Eokoesr are already well into their routine. The servant boy hunches over a wooden delivery cart, its weight almost too much for his wiry frame as he pulls it down the narrow alleys, rushing to make deliveries. His bare feet slap against the cold stones, the skin toughened by years of such work. Inside the shop, his mother sweeps the floors with brisk efficiency, her movements precise and methodical as she polishes every surface to a shine. Customers, a mix of townsfolk, nearby farmers, and travelling merchants, begin to trickle in. The shopkeeper greets them with his measured politeness, wearing his polished leather apron and linnen protector slip on his forearms, marking him as a respected professional merchant. His sons bustle around, fetching goods and weighing them on the heavy brass scale at the counter. In the background, the Eokoesr woman works quietly, scrubbing the corners of the shop floor with a worn rag, sweeping the outside of the shop before moving upstairs to polish the wooden floors. Mid-Morning By late morning, the shop is alive with the clamour of commerce. Farmers haggle over the price of sickles and seed bags, while craftsmen request dyes, nails, and cloth for their trades. With years of experience, the shopkeeper navigates these negotiations laden with force yet with platitudes. His younger son stands by his side, assisting with a small blackboard to list the customer's purchases and calculate their bills. Meanwhile, the Eokoesr woman toils in the storeroom, her arms straining as she hauls sacks of grain and crates of spirits up and down the narrow staircase. Outside, the servant boy struggles to manoeuvre the worn and somewhat battered cart back to the shop, its once-heavy load lightened by the morning's deliveries. As he passes through an alley, a group of neighbourhood Wolgos youths notice him and begin to smirk. One of them flicks a pebble, striking him on the shoulder. He keeps his head down, his hands gripping the cart's handles tightly as he quickens his pace. Upon returning, the boy sets to work with a metal poker and a small old linen sack, hunting for mice in the storeroom and other corners of the house. He crouches silently, his sharp eyes darting around for any movement. Catching mice is a task entrusted to him for his agility and small, nimble body, but also an opportunity he eagerly anticipates. Whatever he catches, he shows the shopkeeper to inspect; he's allowed to keep grown mice and cook them later in the day, and if he finds live baby mice, the shopkeeper takes those as a morning snack and rewards the boy with a little dollop of honey on a piece of scrap paper for the boy to enjoy. Lunch Break As the midday bells from the temple echo faintly through the cobbled streets, the shopkeeper announces the brief closing of the shop for lunch. His sons draw the heavy shutters, and the bustling world outside slowly calms for lunch. The family ascends to the third floor, where the dining room, with its dark wooden beams and white plastered, feels both lavish and yet humble. Light streams in through diamond-paned windows, casting intricate patterns on the polished wooden floors and furniture, yet candlelight is necessary to properly illuminate the room. Tapestries of rural scenes hang on the walls, their woven images of farmhouses and distant villages as farmers and Eokoesr toil. A long oak table dominates the space, surrounded by high-backed chairs with embroidered cushions. A modest fire crackles in the large stone hearth, with its warmth and glow filling the room with a comforting atmosphere. The shopkeeper's wife and daughters-in-law have laid out the meal: roasted root vegetables glistening with butter, fowl roasted meat cooked with plums and onions, and slices of hearty, slightly mouldy bread accompanied by soft cheese and thick butter. At the table's centre stands a green tint glass jug of cold chamomile tea and similar glass goblets, its refreshing scent mingling with the heartier aromas of the meal. The family gathers, with the shopkeeper at the head, his tall, embroidered felt hat placed neatly on a side table. His sons sit at the sides of the table, their broad shoulders showing the promise of youth. Their wives, dressed in simple yet elegant linen and wool dresses, take their places beside them. The daughters-in-law serve the men first as they place meat and garnish on the pewter dining plates. The shopkeeper's grandsons and granddaughters, fresh from their morning lessons at the temple school, gossip excitedly about their day and friends from school. Nevertheless, they quickly fall silent as their grandfather begins the midday prayer. The prayer is recited in a sing-song manner as the family joins in where appropriate. After the prayer and blessings, the family begin to converse in muted voices as they consume their lunch and as the children giggle and jostle as they eat and their mothers reprimand them. The meal itself is large by human standards and more than enough to feed five times as many humans as Wolgos. The Eokoesr servant boy and his mother retreat into the cellar for a break as the family eats. A large but dimply lit cellar with little natural light coming through small windows close to the ceiling, the cellar has a somewhat musty emanating from the walls and stored goods. The cellar has a tiny hearth used to warm and dry the cellar and prevent deterioration of its contents. This cellar, a cramped space partitioned by wooden crates, shelving and sacks of grain, is also their home, at least a small nook. The mother crouches by the hearth, her calloused hands deftly skinning the mice her son caught that morning while hunting on the hearth's stone base. She adds the scrawny carcasses to a small iron pot of watery porridge made from their daily ration of oats and a few scrap vegetables scavenged from the shop's refuse. Today, they have a rare treat: a single cracked egg from the shop's stock given to the Eokoesr woman by the shopkeeper after a customer dropped it. The mother carefully mixes it into the pot, savouring the thought of the slight richness it will add to their meal. The boy sits cross-legged on the cobblestone floor, his face smudged with soot as he fans the weak flame with a scrap board of wood. As the porridge bubbles softly, the boy looks at his mother and smiles as she smiles back; here, in private, they can be affectionate. He whispers, "Dlrocha has blessed us today. He has given stains like us a delicious egg" She nods, her weary face softening. "He has, but remember, stains in creation like us are needed to make the brilliance of his creation shine; he loves us no less." Above them, the Wolgos family enjoys their chamomile tea, and the Wolgos children nibble on small honeyed auroch mince cakes brought out as a special treat. The shopkeeper leans back in his chair, satisfied with the morning's work and the orderliness of his household. Meanwhile, in the cellar, the Eokoesr boy and his mother use their hands to eat their porridge from the little iron pot; they gulp down their meagre yet lovingly made nourishment as they sit together and watch the flickering flames. Afternoon The shop reopens after a brief midday respite, the wooden shutters propped open to invite the afternoon breeze. The sun casts a warm glow through the storefront windows, illuminating the rows of neatly arranged goods—jars of preserved fruits, bundles of dried herbs, and bolts of finely woven cloth. The atmosphere is calmer now, a contrast to the morning's bustling energy. Customers trickle in at a steady pace, engaging in quiet conversations as they select their purchases. The shopkeeper sits at a sturdy oak desk tucked into a corner of the shop. His quill moves steadily across the parchment as he meticulously records sales and expenses in the ledgers. Each entry is precise; numbers and notes aligned in neat columns. He occasionally pauses to adjust his spectacles or sip from a cup of root tea that has long since grown cold. The shopkeeper takes pride in this aspect of his work—the careful management of his livelihood reflects both his diligence and his standing in the community. His sons manage the shop floor with practised efficiency. The older boys attend to customers, their demeanour is polite but reserved. They assist with weighing out goods, cutting lengths of fabric, and wrapping items in crisp brown paper tied with twine. The younger boys restock shelves and sweep the floor, their eyes occasionally wandering to the street outside where other children play. Their father expects discipline, and they strive to meet his expectations, aware of the privilege their position affords them. In the storeroom at the back of the shop, the shopkeeper's wife oversees the organization of inventory. She moves among the shelves with purpose, her fingers trailing lightly over the labels on jars and boxes. She makes notes on a small slate, planning orders and ensuring that popular items are well-stocked. Her attention to detail complements her husband's, and together, they maintain the smooth operation of the family business. Behind the shop, in a narrow alley shaded by overhanging rooftops, the Eokoesr woman kneels on the cobblestone ground. Before her is a large wooden basin filled with soapy water, the surface shimmering with iridescent bubbles. She scrubs the shop rags vigorously against a washboard, the repetitive motion causing the muscles in her arms to ache. The cool dampness seeps through the thin fabric of her dress, and her knees protest against the hard stones beneath her. Yet she continues without pause, her expression focused and unreadable. The afternoon air carries the distant sounds of the town—the clatter of horse hooves, the murmur of conversations, the occasional bark of a dog. But in the alley, there is only the sound of water sloshing and fabric being wrung out. The Eokoesr woman occasionally glances toward the back door of the shop, alert for any summons or additional tasks. Her son returns from his deliveries, pulling an empty wooden cart that rattles softly over the uneven ground. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his cheeks are flushed from exertion. Despite his weariness, he does not stop to rest. He secures the cart against the wall and approaches his mother briefly, offering a faint smile that she returns with a subtle nod. Without being told, he retrieves two wooden buckets from a stack near the cistern. The cistern is a deep, stone-lined well that collects rainwater from the rooftops. Lowering the bucket carefully, he hauls up the cool water, muscles straining as he lifts. Trip after trip, he fills the buckets and carries them into the house, careful not to spill a drop. The path takes him through the kitchen and up a narrow staircase to the family's washing room. The washing room is modest but functional, with a large metal tub positioned near a small hearth where water can be heated. The boy pours the water into the tub and then returns to the kitchen to fetch the kettle. He fills it and places it over the hearth fire to warm, knowing that the Wolgos family prefers their bathwater at just the right temperature. Preparing for the Evening As the day wanes, a delivery wagon arrives, its wheels creaking under the weight of goods from neighbouring towns. The shopkeeper steps outside to supervise the unloading, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the inventory. Barrels of pickled vegetables, their lids sealed with wax, emit a tangy aroma. Crates of spirits are carefully handled; the glass bottles within clink softly with each movement. The Eokoesr woman and her son take their places alongside the shopkeeper's eldest sons. Together, they form a line to carry the goods into the storeroom. The Wolgos sons lift the heavier barrels with practised ease, their faces composed and focused. The Eokoesr pair manages the smaller crates and packages, and their movements are efficient despite their fatigue. The shopkeeper watches closely, offering the occasional directive but mostly observing in silence. His gaze is sharp, noting the posture and demeanour of each worker, ensuring that tasks are performed to his standards. Inside the storeroom, the goods are organized methodically. The sons stack barrels along the back wall while the Eokoesr woman arranges jars and packages on the shelves, aligning labels outward for easy identification. The son sweeps the floor once the unloading is complete, removing any stray bits of straw or debris. With the day's work nearing its end, the Wolgos women and children prepare for their evening baths—a cherished routine that signifies the transition from labour to leisure. The washing room is warmed by the hearth fire, the air thick with steam, and the subtle scent of lavender added to the water. The women undress with care, folding their garments neatly and placing them on a wooden bench. Modesty is observed even in privacy; undergarments are handled discreetly. One by one, they take turns in the steaming bath, the water soothing tired muscles and refreshing the spirit. The children splash lightly; their laughter contained but genuine. Those waiting their turn use ceramic bowls filled with hot water to wash their hair. They pour the water slowly over their heads, the warmth cascading through their long, platinum-white locks. With great care, they apply a faint violet tint—a traditional practice to enhance the luster of their hair and soften any yellowing. The tint is made from crushed petals, mixed into a delicate paste that leaves a subtle fragrance. After bathing, the women dress in clean, comfortable garments suitable for the evening. Their attire is simpler than their daytime clothing but still reflects their status—soft fabrics and understated embellishments. Their hair is brushed until it shines and arranged in loose styles appropriate for relaxation at home. The Eokoesr boy waits until the Wolgos women and children have finished before entering the washing room. His task is to empty the bath and scrub it clean to remove any residue. He moves quickly, the damp air clinging to his skin as he works. Once the tub is spotless, he refills it with fresh water, heating it to the desired temperature for the men of the household who will bathe later that night. Meanwhile, the Wolgos women gather in the day room—a spacious area furnished with comfortable chairs and low tables. The room is illuminated by the soft glow of oil lamps, their light casting gentle shadows on the walls adorned with tapestries of pastoral scenes. The women engage in quiet activities: one embroiders an intricate pattern onto linen, her needle moving deftly through the fabric; another knits a pair of woollen socks, the soft clicking of her needles a rhythmic accompaniment to the evening. A third reads from a leather-bound book, her eyes scanning the pages with quiet concentration. They sip from cups of root tea and warm chamomile, the herbal aromas filling the room. The atmosphere is one of peaceful contentment, a cherished respite after the day's responsibilities. Conversation flows easily, touching on topics of household affairs, news from neighbours, and plans for upcoming festivals. As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden hue across the sky, the women prepare for their evening outing. They gather light shawls to ward off the evening chill and call for the children, who have been playing quietly nearby. The children, their faces bright with anticipation, quickly join their mothers. Together, they step outside into the cool air, the streets of the town bathed in the warm glow of sunset. The group makes their way toward the town's garden—a communal space where flowers bloom in carefully tended beds, and stone paths wind through patches of soft grass. Other women and children are already there, the area alive with gentle activity. Children chase one another, their laughter ringing out, while the women converse in small groups, sharing stories and observations. Some choose to sit on the grass just outside the city walls, where the view opens up to the rolling fields beyond. The horizon is painted with hues of pink and orange, the distant mountains silhouetted against the fading light. The women watch their children play, their conversations punctuated by affectionate calls and reminders. Back at the townhouse, the Eokoesr woman and her son take the opportunity to rest briefly. Their tasks momentarily completed, they sit together in the kitchen's quiet. The woman pours hot water into the chipped bowl that had been gifted to her son, adding a few leaves of mint she cunningly plucked off from that day's deliveries—and hid, a small luxury she allows herself and her son. They sip in silence, as the quiet of the house gives them a respite. Evening With the shop closed for the day, the shopkeeper and his sons lock the heavy wooden doors and secure the shutters, ensuring everything is in order. Tonight, the men of the family venture down the cobblestone streets to a nearby bar, a favourite gathering place for Wolgos men in the neighbourhood. The establishment is narrow and dimly lit, with wooden floors stained from years of oere spit drying on the floors. The air is thick with the scents of spirits, roasted meats, and the musky aroma of sweat from the day's labour. Inside, the atmosphere is lively but subdued, voices murmuring over the clinking of mugs and plates. The shopkeeper and his sons find their usual corner, greeted by a few familiar faces. A server brings them mugs of slightly thick milky spirits, served lukewarm, alongside plates of hearty soup and snack side dishes, steamed naeslor grubs, and bowls of live pink baby mice. The shopkeeper is partial to the mice, dipping them into an oily and vinegary condiment that glistens under the warm glow of lanterns. He takes one wriggling mouse into his mouth, its movements ceasing as his molars crush it, releasing its juices before he swallows. His sons savour the naeslor grubs, their shells splitting with a satisfying pop to release the rich, yolk-like insides that drip onto their plates. The men exchange quiet, satisfied comments on the quality of the food as they sip their spirits. After their meal, they switch to a stronger, pale-green drink sweetened with a lump of sugar. The conversation becomes lighter, and the shopkeeper pulls out a small tin containing dried oere leaves. Each of the men takes a bundle and chews, their saliva darkening to a distinctive blue-green tint as the oere's bitter flavour gives way to a wave of numbing relaxation. They spit discreetly a cup, the liquid staining their teeth and gums further. By the time they leave the bar, the men are in high spirits, their minds buzzing from the oere and strong drink. Back at the townhouse, the shopkeeper's wife gathers her daughters-in-law and the children for a quieter meal around the kitchen table. The hearth crackles softly, casting a warm glow over their modest but nourishing fare. The women dine on sautéed mushrooms cooked in butter, thin slices of fermented meat, and chalky cheese, each dish accompanied by a small glass of oak-leaf wine. The children enjoy simple but satisfying treats: crisp crackers spread with butter, dollops of berry compote, and warm glasses of thick, rich cream. Conversation flows gently around the children's day at temple school, plans for upcoming festivals, and household matters. One of the daughters-in-law, cradling her infant, discreetly breastfeeds at the table, her actions going unnoticed amidst the routine of the evening. The children laugh quietly as they recount their lessons and mock the elderly monk who teaches them, their voices a soft backdrop to the rhythmic clicking of knitting needles as one of the women works on a new project. In the meantime, the Eokoesr woman continues her endless chores. She scrubs the pots and pans from the family's dinner, her hands red and raw from the abrasive soap and cold water. Her son, too exhausted to do much else, collapses onto a makeshift straw mat in the attic storeroom after unloading the last deliveries earlier in the day, resting for a few minutes. While the Eokoesr are not given a formal evening meal, they scrape together what they can from the family's leftovers. Crumbs of bread, small scraps of cheese, and traces of broth are carefully collected into their chipped bowl. They eat quickly, huddled in the kitchen, speaking only in whispers as they finish their humble portion. Night The shopkeeper returns home late, the cool night air sobering him slightly as he walks down the narrow alley leading to his door. The townhouse is quiet now, the streets outside illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. He ascends the stairs to the third floor, where his wife waits for him with a steaming cup of root tea. She helps him undress, her hands steady as she unties his waistcoat and sets aside his tall hat. They exchange a few words—simple observations about the day—before retreating to their sleeping box. Inside the enclosed space, warmed by the residual heat of the day, the couple shares a tender embrace. The shopkeeper slurs a final prayer to Dlrocha, his words murmured against his wife's hair. They close the doors of the sleeping box to keep out the night's chill, settling into the soft feather mattress as the fireplaces die down and the house becomes quiet. After the household falls silent, the Eokoesr boy begins one of his final tasks for the day. Moving quietly through the darkened rooms, he collects all the boots of the family, arranging them in a neat line by the back door for polishing in the morning. He retrieves the family's laundry, placing it into a large basket that his mother will carry to the riverside laundry the next day. Each task is performed with care, and the boy is mindful of the need for silence. Later, in the cellar, the Eokoesr mother and son prepare for their rest. The space is damp but tolerable, warmed by a small hearth meant to reduce moisture. Their sleeping area—a commandeered shelf lined with old burlap sacks and fresh straw—is modest but cosy, and their winter solstice gift blankets provide additional warmth. The mother takes out a damp rag and a bucket of water, using them to wash herself and her son. The boy's face is pale with fatigue, but he dutifully scrubs his hands and feet clean before pulling on the thick woollen socks they received as gifts the previous year. Beneath the shelf, hidden from view, the Eokoesr mother keeps a few jars she has salvaged and filled with pickled scraps—vinegar, vegetable ends, and crumbs of salt. These jars are her small treasure, a hedge against meagre rations or an unexpected punishment. Tonight, however, there is no need for them. Their bellies are not full, but they are not empty either. As the temple's wake-up bell looms just a few hours away, the mother and son wrap themselves tightly in their shared blankets. The crackle of the cellar hearth and the faint sounds of the town settling for the night provide a brief moment of peace before the cycle begins anew.

A Day in the Life of a

Wolgos noble man

Wolgos noble woman

The noble stirred awake, his pink and crimson eyes flickering open to the faint crackle of embers in the large stone fireplace. His wife shifted beside him, her movements smooth and deliberate, her silver hair spilling like molten metal over the carved edges of their sleeping box. The air in the chamber was cool and faintly perfumed, the lingering scent of oud and rose oils mingling with the remnants of last night's fire. At the first sign of wakefulness, the Eokoesr servant stationed near the door snapped into action. Without a word, the servant stepped forward, bowing low in a fluid, deliberate motion before approaching the ornate bronze basin already prepared on the side table. Every movement was measured, almost dance-like, as they set the basin in place, its surface rippling faintly under the glow of candlelight. The scent of rose oil rose from the water, sharp yet delicate. The servant knelt beside the bed, their posture as rigid and unnatural as a carved figure. Their head was held high, necks taut against the pristine mandarin collar moulded with an inner sheet of bone. Beneath the fabric, brass spikes gleamed faintly, ready to prick flesh should their head falter even slightly. Their silence and precision embodied the perfection expected of them. The noble stretched a deliberate motion that unfurled his tall frame to its full height. Without looking down, he stepped onto the servant's back, using their body as a living stepstool to descend from the sleeping box. The servant didn't flinch, their rigid posture absorbing the noble's weight. His wife stirred moments later, her hands brushing away the hair from her face as she murmured softly. The servant, with the same mechanical grace, repositioned themselves to the opposite side of the sleeping box, presenting their back as a second step. She descended lightly, her feet barely pressing into their back, her every motion regal and deliberate. The noble moved to the bronze basin, splashing the cool, fragrant water over his face. The chill invigorated him, droplets catching the morning light as they fell. The servant, still kneeling, swiftly retrieved a linen towel from the side table, unfolding it with practised precision. Without looking, the noble took it from their outstretched hands and dismissed them with a flick of his wrist. The servant retreated silently to the corner, their rigid form blending into the opulent but sparse décor of the chamber. Meanwhile, his wife crossed the room to the standing wardrobe, its polished wooden doors gleaming in the firelight. She opened it to reveal a built-in dresser, its surface inlaid with dark green enamel and gold filigree. Seating herself before it with a fluid motion, she rang a small silver bell that chimed sharply, its sound resonating like a command through the chamber. Moments later, the two doors flanking the fireplace opened. Through one, the noble's Wolgos aide entered, carrying a long, tight tunic of green wool, finely embroidered, along with the lord's accessories. Through the other, a young Wolgos maid stepped in, carefully cradling an elaborate bell-shaped gown supported by a boned framework. Both bowed deeply before proceeding with their tasks. The maid began by tending to the lady of the house, gently washing her face with a damp cloth steeped in rosewater. Her touch was reverent and light, as though she were tending to a divine figure. She combed the noblewoman's silver hair with a silver brush, styling it into an intricate braid adorned with gold clasps shaped like haiter antlers. With steady hands, she applied a faint dusting of pale powder to her mistress's cheeks, followed by a subtle tint to her lips. Finally, she retrieved a small glass bottle of dark liquid. Carefully, the maid dipped each of her lady's fingers into the dye, one by one, staining her nails and the lower halves of her fingers a deep black. Using a fine brush, she blended the edges into smoky gradients, creating an ethereal, haunting effect. The lady inspected her hands with a faint smile, her fingers now appearing almost otherworldly, as though they belonged to a spirit caught between life and death. On the other side of the room, the Wolgos aide attended to the noble. The tight, knee-length green tunic was draped over his broad shoulders, its sharp tailoring emphasizing his stature and strength. Beneath it, woollen trousers hugged his muscular legs, their muted hue drawing attention to the elaborate gold-embroidered codpiece prominently displayed at the tunic's front opening. Styled in the unmistakable shape of an erect phallus, it was more than clothing—it was a symbol of virility, dominance, and divine favour. The aide adjusted the fit before draping a heavy gold chain across the noble's shoulders, its links engraved with intricate patterns denoting his lineage. Finally, the aide handed him a burgundy coat rimmed with thick fur, and the lord donned his richly decorated tall felt hat with practised ease. Once dressed, the couple exited the chamber, their aides following at a respectful distance. They entered the adjacent shrine, a room of quiet grandeur. The walls were adorned with sweeping frescos of Dlrocha's divine acts: the creation of the world from chaos, the taming of the primal beasts, and the ordaining of Wolgos supremacy. A grand tapestry dominated the far wall, depicting Dlrocha in an ambiguous, godly form. Beneath it rested an ornate gold basin of water, its surface shimmering in the candlelight as though alive. The noble, his wife, and their aides approached the altar with synchronized steps. Together, they knelt on the polished wood floors, their postures low and reverent. The noble bowed his head deeply, his hands pressing flat against the cool marble of the altar as he began the morning prayers. His voice was low and resonant, filling the room with rhythmic invocations to Dlrocha. His words wove blessings for their household, their lands, and their lineage, asking for divine favour in the day ahead. His wife's head remained bowed beside him, her lips moving silently as she echoed his devotion. As the ceremony concluded, the noble dipped his fingers into the golden basin, lifting them high so that droplets cascaded back into the water like falling stars. He anointed his forehead with deliberate precision, then turned to his wife, repeating the gesture with reverence. Finally, he sprinkled a few drops over the heads of the aides, acknowledging their presence in this sacred act. The water shimmered faintly as it fell, refracting the flickering candlelight. The breakfast had been simple but rich—a spread of buttered rye bread, slices of smoked auroch meat, soft cheese, and a steaming pot of root tea shared between the noble and his wife. Their aides and the Eokoesr servant flitted around them, tending to the table silently, keeping the scene immaculate and seamless. The morning air beyond the dining hall windows glowed faintly with the early light, and soon, the lord rose, his wife accompanying him to the entryway to see him off. Dressed impeccably in his burgundy coat trimmed with fur and wearing his tall felt hat, the noble stepped into the courtyard where a sleek, light carriage awaited him. The vehicle lacquered a deep black and trimmed with bronze, stood ready, its harness secured to a single haiter. The beast, towering and graceful, pawed the cobbled ground impatiently, its spiralling antlers gleaming faintly in the morning light. The lord's aide, dressed in a more straightforward yet fine tunic, sat poised at the driver's bench, the reins wrapped firmly in his hands. The noble climbed into the carriage, his movements deliberate, as the aide gave the reins a sharp flick. The haiter surged forward with a smooth, predatory power, pulling the carriage through the cobbled streets of the town. Morning vendors were just setting up their stalls as the carriage rolled past, its presence drawing glances from townsfolk and the occasional Eokoesr servant hurrying about their errands. The lord leaned back against the plush interior, observing his town with a faint air of satisfaction as it gave way to open fields. The journey to the farming estate was swift, the haiter's pace unrelenting. The landscape of cultivated fields and scattered cottages passed in a blur until the estate's boundaries came into view. The carriage slowed, crunching over the uneven ground of the estate courtyard. The overseers, dressed in practical but sturdy woollen attire, were already waiting, their postures sharp and formal as the lord disembarked. The noble's presence commanded immediate silence, the faint sound of the haiter's breath filling the still air. The courtyard was a muddy expanse of broken cobblestones, bordered by the barracks where the Eokoesr workers lived. The squat, stinking buildings of weathered brick and stone had slitted windows that barely allowed light to enter. The faint stench of sweat, smoke, and filth hung in the air, but the noble's expression betrayed no distaste as he strode forward, his aide falling into step a respectful distance behind him. Before him, a line of Eokoesr workers stood silent and rigid, their wiry, lightly muscled bodies marked by scars and fresh abrasions. Smeared with soot and dirt, their pale skin bore tattoos across their chests: crude numbers for the estate's register, with the noble's knot sigil inked below. Barefoot and heads bowed, they moved only at the barked commands of the overseers, their posture hunched despite efforts to keep them straight. The overseers began the roll call, their voices sharp as each number was called. In turn, the workers stepped forward stiffly, murmuring their responses. The noble moved slowly down the line, his sharp crimson eyes appraising each figure with the precision of a butcher. He noted scars, bruises, and signs of overuse, occasionally issuing terse orders to the overseers: "Reassign this one to lighter work" or "Increase this one's rations; they're too lean." He paused in front of a trembling boy no older than thirteen, his gaze dissecting the boy's angular frame before moving on without a word. When the roll call concluded, the overseers herded the Eokoesr back toward the barracks with clipped commands. The workers shuffled through the mud, disappearing into the dark, oppressive buildings that offered no comfort beyond straw bedding and communal water buckets. The noble turned without a backward glance, heading toward the grain silos. The towering stone silos stood at the far end of the estate, their thick walls ensuring the grain was protected from the elements. Inside, the noble inspected the harvest with a practised eye, running his gloved hand over the stored piles. He scrutinized the grain's colour, texture, and scent, the overseers remaining silent and tense as they awaited his judgment. Satisfied, he stepped out into the sunlight and issued curt orders for distribution and management before gesturing for the farm administrator and overseers to follow him. Together, they walked down a narrow path winding through a dense plantation of willow coppicing. The morning sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting dappled shadows as workers hacked at trunks or carried bundles of fresh-cut branches. Their bare feet squelched in the damp soil, the mingling scents of fresh wood and decay thick in the air. The path opened onto low mounds, each supporting barn-like structure with creaking vanes that rotated to catch the wind. These grubsheds, central to the estate's operations, housed the naesslor beetle grubs. Workers trudged up ramps, baskets of willow branches slung over their backs, while others carried empty baskets down. Overseers watched closely, their eyes scanning for errors. "These grub sheds are running efficiently," the administrator remarked, his tone respectful. "The ventilation keeps the grubs healthy, and we've expanded capacity since last season, my lord." The noble nodded and gestured for an overseer to open one of the sheds. The heavy wooden hatch swung outward, releasing a rush of hot, humid air. Inside, the grubs writhed atop decaying willow, their segmented, pale bodies glistening faintly in the dim light. Nearly as thick as a wrist and as long as a forearm, they fed in dense, heaving masses. The noble reached into the pile, retrieving one of the grubs. He held it up for inspection before biting into it, the outer layer splitting with a soft pop. He chewed thoughtfully, the nutty, warm texture satisfying his palate. "Acceptable," he said flatly, handing back the grub and stepping aside. An aide approached, offering a clean linen cloth. The noble wiped his hands and returned the cloth without a word. Turning sharply, he began his walk back toward the courtyard, the administrator and overseers following at a careful distance. The plantation resumed its hum of labour, the rhythm of Eokoesr toil uninterrupted by his inspection. By the time the noble reached the waiting carriage, his boots were spotless, their polished surface gleaming in the sunlight. He climbed into the vehicle with practised ease, settling into the plush interior. With a snap of the reins, the aide set the haiter in motion, the carriage rolling smoothly away. Behind them, the plantation and its grub sheds faded into the distance, their operations carrying on without pause. The carriage rattled through the rugged countryside, the haiter's smooth gait devouring the distance between the estate and the village. Inside the lacquered black vehicle, the noble sat in contemplative silence, his sharp crimson eyes fixed on the rolling hills that blurred past. The chest opposite him, secured with bronze clasps, contained the day's logbook and other administrative materials. His aide, seated at the driver's bench outside, handled the reins with practised ease, guiding the haiter along the uneven dirt roads. As the village came into view, its cluster of thatched roofs and chimneys nestled against the gentle hills, the towering Réǵsmon at the crossroads became unmistakable. The stone phallus monolith stood erect, anatomically precise, yet stylized in the distinctive Wolgos aesthetic. Its carved surface depicted veins, engorged girth, and spiralling knot motifs that merged functionality with symbolism. Offerings of wildflowers, jars of honey, and carved wooden figures ringed its base, left by villagers seeking blessings for fertility, prosperity, and divine favour. The aide brought the carriage to a halt beside the Réǵsmon with a firm pull of the reins. Without a word, he dismounted, opening the carriage door and bowing as the noble stepped out. The lord descended with deliberate grace, his tall felt hat casting a shadow over his stern features. His burgundy coat, trimmed with fur, shifted as he adjusted the heavy gold chain draped across his chest. The villagers, alerted by the sound of the looped brass trumpet blown by the aide moments earlier, began to gather at the crossroads. The village innkeeper hurried forward, a stout Wolgos man with a ruddy complexion bowing deeply as he approached. He carried a modest table and two chairs, which he set up beneath the shadow of the Réǵsmon. With care, he placed a jug of water and two pewter cups on the table before stepping back with a deferential nod. The noble seated himself with a practised air of authority. His aide retrieved the logbook from the chest and placed it on the table before returning to his position nearby, standing at attention. The villagers, a mix of pastoral Wolgos with livestock, the blacksmith, the brewer, and smallholding farmers, formed a loose line, their heads bowed in respect as they clutched small sacks of coins or other offerings. "Let us begin," the noble said, his tone flat but commanding. One by one, the heads of households approached the table. The blacksmith, his hands calloused and dark with soot, presented his tax in carefully counted coins, bowing low before retreating. The beekeeper followed, offering a small jar of honey in addition to his coin. The lord accepted the jar with a faint nod, instructing the aide to log it as a gift for later collection. Those bearing gifts too cumbersome for immediate transport—bundles of wool, barrels of mead, or sides of cured meat—were instructed to leave them at the village lockup, a sturdy stone building near the edge of the settlement. The villagers moved with quiet efficiency, their deference palpable under the noble's scrutinizing gaze. His sharp eyes flicked over each of them, noting their posture, their dress, and the state of their offerings. When one farmer, an older Wolgos with a missing tooth, presented his tax in a slightly underweight coin, the lord's lips pressed into a thin line. He gestured for the village overseer, a wiry Wolgos with a hawk-like expression, who stepped forward immediately. "Adjust his grazing rights," the noble ordered, his voice calm but unyielding. "No excuses will be entertained." The farmer stammered his gratitude, bowing repeatedly as he backed away. The rest of the villagers watched silently, their respect mingled with unease as the lord's power over their lives was displayed so plainly. The line dwindled as the last household stepped forward, the village brewer presenting his dues along with a small keg of his finest ale. The lord inspected the keg briefly, running his gloved hand over the smooth wood, before gesturing for it to be taken to the lockup. The aide closed the logbook with a soft thud, its leather cover creaking faintly as he secured it back in the carriage chest. As the villagers dispersed, the noble rose from his chair, adjusting his coat as he turned to the overseer. "Ensure the lockup remains secure," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I will send for the gifts in due course." The overseer bowed deeply, his hawkish features set in a mask of obedience. The noble glanced toward the Réǵsmon, its shadow stretching long across the crossroads, before stepping back into the carriage. His aide secured the chest once more, then climbed into the driver's seat, snapping the reins with a sharp motion. The haiter surged forward, the carriage rolling smoothly over the dirt road as the village faded into the distance. The carriage pulled into the monastery courtyard just as the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the intricately tiled stonework. The noble disembarked with practised ease, his tall frame cutting an imposing silhouette against the fading light. His aide followed, hefting the heavy chest of collected taxes from the carriage's storage compartment. Inside the monastery's banking hall, the air was cool and solemn. Monks murmured their evening prayers as the chest was handed over to be counted. After withdrawing a smaller pouch of coins, the noble and his aide departed, their polished boots clicking against the cobblestones as they left the quiet sanctity of the abbey for the lively streets outside. Exiting the town's gate, the pair strolled along a well-trodden road that skirted the town wall, passing rows of humble homes and small gardens. The warmth of the day had faded, leaving the air cool and fragrant with the earthy scents of the countryside. A large wooden signpost came into view ahead, its carved posts adorned with intricate designs that gleamed faintly in the twilight. The sign marked the entrance to the town's famed bathhouse—a sprawling building of polished timber and slate, its lantern-lit windows casting a warm, inviting glow. The sounds of laughter and murmured conversation drifted from the bathhouse as the noble and his aide entered. Courtesans—graceful Wolgos women clad in flowing black robes with crimson accents—moved fluidly through the room, their alabaster skin and snow-white hair catching the light like moonbeams. They greeted the lord with knowing smiles, their violet eyes glinting with practised allure. A courtesan approached the noble, bowing low. "My lord," she said softly, her voice lilting and smooth, "Your bath is prepared." She gestured gracefully for him to follow. Another courtesan approached his aide with a similar gesture, guiding him toward the shared chamber. The bathing room was warm and fragrant, its air thick with steam and floral oils. Two large wooden tubs, shaped like barrels and bound with iron bands, stood ready. Each tub was lined with a single, square piece of heavy fabric that draped over the edges and softened the bare wood. The courtesans moved to assist, their hands deftly loosening the fastenings of the noble's and his aide's garments, folding them neatly before helping the men into the tubs. The noble sank into the hot water with a faint sigh, his tall frame relaxing as the heat enveloped him. The courtesan knelt at his side, pouring additional oils into the steaming water before taking up a soft cloth. Her movements were intimate but unhurried, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin as she worked to ease the tension from his shoulders and back. The aide, seated in the adjacent tub, received similar attention, their proximity making the scene one of casual ease rather than discomfort. As the courtesans continued their ministrations, their touches grew bolder, their soft whispers no longer merely polite. The noble's courtesan leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear, her hands sliding lower beneath the water. Her movements were deliberate, her violet eyes meeting his as she pressed her body subtly against the edge of the tub. Nearby, the aide's courtesan mirrored her companion's actions, her hands trailing across his chest as her lips brushed his jawline. The shared chamber was filled with the faint sounds of water rippling and low murmurs, the acts unfolding without shame or hesitation. When their passions had been thoroughly sated, the courtesans helped the men from the tubs, their touches lingering as they dried their patrons with soft linen towels. Once dressed in fresh robes provided by the house, the noble and his aide were led to the dining room within the bathhouse. The dining room was intimate and richly appointed, its low wooden table set with polished pewter plates and finely carved drinking horns. A roaring hearth filled the space with flickering light, and the scent of roasted meat and spiced vegetables hung in the air. Dinner was a hearty feast: succulent roast boar with crispy skin, sautéed cabbage, earthy root vegetables, dense rye bread, and cold black liquorice cream for dessert. The liquorice's bitter-sweet flavour was subtle and bracing. Throughout the dinner, the courtesans remained attentive, refilling the men's drinking horns with dark beer and ensuring their comfort. Though the atmosphere was relaxed, the noble maintained his characteristic composure, his sharp eyes flicking occasionally toward the flickering hearth or the graceful movements of the courtesans. His aide mirrored his demeanour, their occasional exchanges of quiet conversation punctuating the warm glow of the evening. As the meal drew to a close, the courtesans returned with warm water and cloths, washing the men's hands before stepping back with synchronized bows. The noble rose first, signalling that the evening's indulgence had come to an end. He and his aide departed the bathhouse, stepping into the cool night air. The sounds of the town had quieted to a soft hum, the distant glow of lanterns casting long shadows across the road. With confident strides, they made their way back toward the town gate, their tall forms stark against the deepening twilight.

The Wolgos

Wolgos Sub-species
Physiology topics: Wolgos Psyche - Wolgos Development From Birth to Adulthood - Death for the Wolgos - Wolgos Sexuality - Wolgos Masculinity - Wolgos Womanhood Culture topics: Oere - Wolgos Cuisine - Wolgos Sports - Wolgos units of measurement - Wolgos calendar - Wolgos language - Wolgos Cultural norms and traditions - Wolgos literature - Wolgos Diaspora
Historic and current Nations of the Wolgos
Dhonowlgos		The Bind		Hergom ep swekorwos	United New Kingdoms
~3000 CE - 7505 CE		7508 CE - 7603 CE		7608 CE - Present

Dhonowlgos

History & Geography	History of Dhonowlgos: History of Dhonowlgos - Stained Era - Era of Rising Lilies Dhonowlgos Geography: Dnkluwos Islands
Politics & Economy	Dhonowlgos Politics: Politics - Foreign Relations Dhonowlgos Economy: Economy of Dhonowlgos
Society & Culture	Dhonowlgos Society: Monuments - Society - Brochs of Dhonowlgos Dhonowlgos Culture: Cultures of Dhonowlgos - Eokoesr in Old Dhonowlgos

The Bind

History & Geography	History of The Bind: History - Geography - Military - Science - Brochs of The Bind The Bind Geography: Geography
Politics & Economy	Politics of The Bind: Politics - Military - Administrative Divisions of the Bind Economy of The Bind: Economy - Geography
Society & Culture	Society in The Bind: Brochs of The Bind - communication in The Bind - Demographics Cultures of The Bind: Wolgos Culture in The Bind - Ak'lam culture in the Bind - Shriaav in the Bind Empire

Hergom ep swekorwos

History & Geography	History of Hergom: History of Hergom - Colonisation of Kupeya - First Coalition War - Second Coalition War Urbanisation in Hergom: Cities and Urban centres: Nekwehon, Ombhrosdhom, Rūdhroskhom, Newos Chaed Praet, Newos Kalsulan, Kérsróm, Nbhreǵ-Skous, Newos Dhowkros, Nbhreǵ-Endas, Dhubhowelksteh2nos, H2stḗrtérm̥n Geography of Hergom: Regions - Administrative Divisions - National parks - Mountains - Rivers and Lakes
Politics & Economy	Economy of Hergom: Economy Companies and Resources: Companies of Hergom - Natural resources - Energy Financial Systems: Currency - Banking - Twenty seven enterprises Economy and Commerce: Living standards - Consumer goods and shopping - Bazaar Ports of Hergom - Transport in Hergom - Computing in Hergom Politics of Hergom: Government of Hergom - Gweḱwōntiyo Hregwes - Heghnom Kawisoos - Hregwis Wl̥kwos - Wolgos Justice System - Others court - Human justice system - Other's law - Human Code - Hominid Rights in Hergom Military and Defence: Military overview - Hlrike - H2egmegh2 - Army - Wodr̥h2ekmon - Navy - Dyeubherh2 - Airforce - Peh2ugneh3i Weg - Military Police - Nuclear Weapons - Coast Guard
Society & Culture	Ethnicity: Wolgos - Gahnam in Hergom - Chalam in Hergom - Uturans in Hergom - Sekwntos - Shriaav of Hergom Society and Culture: Sports in Hergom - Science in Hergom - Healthcare in Hergom - Wolgos Cultural norms and traditions - Wolgos Cuisine and Cuisine in Hergom - Media in Hergom - Education in Hergom - Wolgos Tribes Religion: Dlroch'veldr

United New Kingdoms

History & Geography	History of The United New Kingdoms: History The United New Kingdoms Geography: Geography
Politics & Economy	Politics of The United New Kingdoms: Politics - Military Economy of The: Economy - Geography
Society & Culture	Society and Culture in The United New Kingdoms: Wolgos Culture in the UNK - Demographics - Humans of the UNK Culture of The United New Kingdom: Brochs of The United New Kingdoms - Culture of the United New Kingdoms