Bat'yan

Rays of sunlight sneak through the canopy overhead. An aroma of sickly sweet fruit fills the lungs with every breath, and the air is heavy, hot, and wet. The road ahead snakes between dense trees, which are barely far enough apart to allow passage. Wildlife rustles in the branches above, and the songs of a dozen colorful birds accompany the rumble of wagon wheels. 

Welcome to the Bat’yan. 

The Barangay 

Communities in the Bat’yan are called barangays (bahrenGAIS). The government of west Arneria is almost entirely local, and barangays off the Causeway are tiny, tight-knit villages with no more than a few hundred people. They visit larger neighboring settlements to trade and hear important news from elsewhere, but the Bat’yan life is close and rural. 

Every barangay is different. The towns in the deepest parts of the rainforest are steeped in tradition and attuned to the nature of their home region. These are some of the Beast World’s remotest communities; some have never even encountered the species common in other homelands. They’re also the most self-sufficient, having produced their own food, medicine, clothing and shelter since they first formed. 

However, most barangays are more connected with the outside world. Roads through the thick rainforest foliage run throughout the Bat’yan. They’re maintained by each individual village, who value networking with Causeway cities and the rest of the Beast World. Each still retains a distinct culture that any who leave to see the world carry with them. 

The Datu and the Raja 

The leader of a barangay is the datu. They are its singular authority of law and civil management. Every barangay keeps its own laws, its own taxes, and its own justice. The datu is chosen with the same autonomy. A common system in much of the Bat’yan is to choose the datu from families within a privileged social class, or from leaders in the Pirhouan church. 

In foreign affairs and dealings with the Beylik, the raja is the voice of all datus in the Bat’yan. The raja is a powerful diviner with the ability to network their mind with all the datus at once. The raja can reach out to them with questions and divine their response to act according to their will. The raja is an important figure, but they serve at the pleasure of their datus. The barangay leaders are always talking--if the raja is found to be acting against their wishes, they soon find themselves in a violently uncomfortable position. 

A Day His and Hers 

The social lives of men and women are more separated in the Bat’yan than in other homelands. Married couples of opposite gender keep their own distinct circle of friends, unlike the mixed social lives of Allemance and Oria. This segregation begins at a young age; boys and girls play the same games, but tend to stick with their own gender. Life can be tough for kids who aren’t sure which side of this fence they’re on (or are in a different pasture altogether), but most parents encourage their pups to be understanding about the ones figuring themselves out. 

Adult men tend to be morning socializers. They congregate in front of coffee shops at dawn, talking with friends and catching up on the news around the barangay. The gatherings are where useful barter between families is arranged, but they’re also a hive of gossip about every little thing. Meanwhile, women do the early ranch work and attend to breakfast with children. (In the Bat’yan, there’s a strong association between women and breakfast for this reason.) Afterward, they maintain the house and look after kids too young to send outside on their own. 

At noon, a family pulls together to pass the hottest part of the day with a nap. The early start to their day is to allow these important two hours or so. Life in the rainforest barangays takes a break to prevent heat sickness and get a quick rest in the afternoon. 

Then, the roles switch. Men remain at home to do afternoon chores and begin gathering food for the late meal. This is also their time to look after the young ones, which they spend playing games to teach them some lesson or other. The women bring any produce harvested during the morning to shops, where they meet with friends and while away the hours. They compare harvests and snipe a bit in good fun about sadder crop offerings. 

Around sunset, families converge once again for the late meal. Partners catch up on the day’s events and older children share what’s been happening with them. This is important bonding time, where parents model a strong relationship for their children. The animals are put away, the last chores are done, and homes quiet down for sleep as nighttime darkness falls. 

Independence and Family 

Unlike in other homelands, adults normally live with their parents until they’re married. Young adults start a new home in the barangay once they have a spouse to share it with. The average marriage age in the Bat’yan is 25, which gives a young adult time to find their footing in the world and demonstrate their responsibility to a partner. Weddings in the Bat’yan are a rowdy affair. The barangay gathers to welcome a new family to their community, celebrating with songs everyone knows. 

Weddings are local festivals that might last two or three days. The datu gives the new couple a substantial gift from their personal fortune. In the following week, everyone in the barangay erects a house for them as a welcoming gesture. 

Flexible Style 

The schedule and rhythm of a family is rarely so strictly defined, of course. Beasts of the Bat’yan are flexible, adaptable people who take their work with them throughout the day. The walk home from the coffee shop is a good time to carry back a tool borrowed by a friend. It’s good to stop and take a break on the way, and the ongoing bethel wall repair needs a bit of work too. Bat’yan folks lead easygoing lives that go with the world’s flow. 

This meandering schedule differs from an Allemagnian’s polychronism in that folks in the Bat’yan are always making progress toward several goals at once. The flex and flow of their lives is incredibly productive from a big-picture perspective. Oric culture builds great things because every person is a part with a specific purpose, but Bat’yan culture builds great things because every person can quickly adapt to the needs of the moment. 

Art in the Bat’yan 

In west Arneria, there’s only a fuzzy line between artists and conventional workers. Almost everyone in the barangays performs art and music, which they fold seamlessly into other parts of their lives. Becoming a career artist is a transition that takes years; with the aid of their community paying for their performances, a barangay bard starts their career later in life, but more well-equipped. 

The Blackwild 

The Bat’yan is scarred by a curse of unknown origin. In the middle of the rainforest stands a forbidden place where light cannot escape, and the whispers of demons entice anyone to move closer. Miles of the rainforest have been totally swallowed by this darkness, which the Arnerians call the Blackwild. It’s one of the few places in the Beast World where demons can touch the material world. Willful creatures who enter it are invaded by passengers with the desire and power to destroy anything that exists. 

A barrier erected by the paladins of Dramphine prevents the Blackwild from advancing to devour any more of the Beast World. However, its miledeep rim is warped by dark magic that claws out of the black. This border region is known as the Ring of False Blessings. Fruits grow enormous and juicy in the Ring, and birds of unreal colors fly between turquoise trees, singing an enticing song ina young woman’s voice. The Ring of False Blessings is beautiful, but in a bizarre, unsettling way. Nothing inside it can leave, but it can try to convince someone to enter. 

The Dramphinian paladins hold this law absolute and at the expense of every other: entering the Blackwild is forbidden. Willfully venturing into the Blackwild or Ring of False Blessings is punishable by death. Memories of the terror wrought by demons who rode along on beasts who wandered in compel them not to take chances. Even discussing entering the Blackwild is punished with detainment and weeks of questioning by the order. It is the duty they hold higher than any other. 

Pirhouanism in Al'ar

An open-air lounge sits at the edge of a tiny dock village, with the Heartleaf painted on each outer wall. Four sailors and the bethelkeeper chatter and laugh while lounging on cushions around a table. A three-month voyage has just ended. In this typical Al’ari bethel, voyagers plan their routes by consulting weather divinations prepared by divine magic. There’s a culture of fraternity among the devout, as they compare sea charts and seek new horizons to explore. 

In Al’ar, Pirhoua is the goddess of curiosity, stewardship of nature, and wandering. Pirhouans from the isles are convicted to stay curious throughout their lives. Al’ari academia and voyaging pursue the unknown. The charge of curiosity also challenges one to be inquisitive about everyday activity 

The First Divine Charge: Curiosity 

The Al’ari Pirhouan sees the open sea as a spiritual mandate. Spreading goodness to the entire world means one must visit the entire world. Al’ari Pirhouans usually know every nautical inch of their hometowns and the surrounding waters. 

Some interpret this charge from the perspective of how they treat others. A Pirhouan’s exploration might be intently listening to a stranger’s woes or asking proactive questions about a lonely neighbor’s passions. By “sailing a stranger’s seas,” they bolster and make their life brighter. 

The Second Divine Charge: Safekeeping 

The charge of safekeeping has arguably shaped Al’ari society more than any other homeland’s Pirhouan sect. To change the natural world is a prideful conceit. Felling a tree without replanting it is rejecting Pirhoua’s vision for the world. 

This charge is the main reason for the dock town. Islanders can gather up an entire city and move it, while leaving minimal scars on the land. While Al’ari differ in how fervent they are about this lifestyle, most pay it at least some credence. 

The Third Divine Charge: Piquancy 

Fish is tasty, but spicy fish is even better. This simple truth encapsulates the charge of piquancy. Curiosity is their virtue, so Al’ari seek to see life’s blessings from new angles. 

Al’ari clerics perform some drastic culinary experiments. Despite some questionable results, feline kitchen-piety has discovered what some consider Pirhoua’s single greatest gift: chocolate. The charge of piquancy motivates simpler experiments in pleasure as well—it’s why many Al’ari can’t seem to pick a spot to nap in.