Acris
Water of Life, land of bounty
Acris’ ecology is as delicate as it is prosperous. Most notably, it has always been utterly at the mercy of its’ rivers. Without them, the entire basin would be a desert. Totally flanked by mountains which thoroughly block oceanborne weather systems, Acris is lucky to receive the pitiful amount of rainfall it does, as evidenced by the massive desert that forms its heart, so pretty much all water comes from its’ four rivers: The Laaj, Nuj, Lemma and Welden, all of which are exploited thoroughly for everything from manufacturing to transport. Civilization clusters tightly along their banks, and the rivers’ many cataracts are thoroughly dammed to extract the greatest value from their descent into the central basin, as well as stabilize their flow for flood control.
All four rivers flood at least once annually (usually in the summer), with the Laaj being known as the most temperamental and deadly. Despite their greatest efforts and some truly monumental displays of construction, the flooding still serves as a annual cause of mass death and destruction, even in quiet years. However, this, combined with the rich volcanic ash spewed from the mountains that surround it makes Acristan soil monstrously efficient. Acris harvests twice in a year in the spring and autumn, and despite the undulations of the desert that lies in the center of their territory-- the Schrade-- and the temperamental nature of the rivers, Acris produces more than half of Arstadt’s food, particularly grains.
While far from as mystical about it as the Deepsmen, Acristan sentimentalities quietly revere the water as a force of destruction and rebirth. Customary rituals and holidays to placate the rivers persist, with offerings — usually dried, smoke-producing incense, being shipped downriver in little boats set aflame during the equinoxes. The Catharate tried with almost pathetic enthusiasm to secularize the holidays or present nationalistic alternatives, but such superstition and ritual looks to remain entrenched long as the rivers stay lethal. Some have even speculated that the rivers do still have spirits, and have proposed connections between ‘good’ offerings and lax flooding. Such spirits would likely predate even the Demiorgos. While the Catharate flatly denies such suggestions and has intimidated scholars who propose it into silence, overcurious observers insist they’ve seen Cathars in diving dress digging around in creekbeds and cliff-caves.
The Dams themselves are of crucial importance, and each hosts a heavily and enthusiastically fortified Cathar citadel atop and around it, the largest being the very capital of Arstadt itself — Downfall. They were among the first key holdings captured by the Martyr’s army during the Severing, and remain a crucial deterrent to rebellion from within: If a civil unrest ever becomes too widespread down in the basin, the Catharate can always shut off the water, effectively putting thousands of square miles under siege. While the Catharate has twice threatened to do so, they’ve never actually cut the water supply, but the concept remains a discouraging notion against organized revolt.
In the center of Acris lies the Schrade, a desert constantly constricting and expanding throughout the ages like the breaths of an arid tide, often taking outlying settlements with it. For this reason,the oldest and largest cities are rung by woods, formerly the hunting grounds and personal property of magistrates and lords, they are now maintained by Catharate fiat. Wisely so, as the bulwark of woods to the west and east are the only things preventing dust storms from burying the loamy soil of the floodplains and dooming the entire region. Some are stands are exploited as tree farms for firewood, charcoal and carprentry, but such activities are stringently regulated. Punishments for illegal logging are immediate, public, and brutal, usually death or permanent maiming. Such events are among the most tolerated and celebrated examples of Cathar justice, with even skeptics conceding them as reasonable; a half-day’s walk past their threshold, the buried rooftops of ancient settlements peek up from the dunes as an concrete reminder as to why.
All four rivers flood at least once annually (usually in the summer), with the Laaj being known as the most temperamental and deadly. Despite their greatest efforts and some truly monumental displays of construction, the flooding still serves as a annual cause of mass death and destruction, even in quiet years. However, this, combined with the rich volcanic ash spewed from the mountains that surround it makes Acristan soil monstrously efficient. Acris harvests twice in a year in the spring and autumn, and despite the undulations of the desert that lies in the center of their territory-- the Schrade-- and the temperamental nature of the rivers, Acris produces more than half of Arstadt’s food, particularly grains.
While far from as mystical about it as the Deepsmen, Acristan sentimentalities quietly revere the water as a force of destruction and rebirth. Customary rituals and holidays to placate the rivers persist, with offerings — usually dried, smoke-producing incense, being shipped downriver in little boats set aflame during the equinoxes. The Catharate tried with almost pathetic enthusiasm to secularize the holidays or present nationalistic alternatives, but such superstition and ritual looks to remain entrenched long as the rivers stay lethal. Some have even speculated that the rivers do still have spirits, and have proposed connections between ‘good’ offerings and lax flooding. Such spirits would likely predate even the Demiorgos. While the Catharate flatly denies such suggestions and has intimidated scholars who propose it into silence, overcurious observers insist they’ve seen Cathars in diving dress digging around in creekbeds and cliff-caves.
The Dams themselves are of crucial importance, and each hosts a heavily and enthusiastically fortified Cathar citadel atop and around it, the largest being the very capital of Arstadt itself — Downfall. They were among the first key holdings captured by the Martyr’s army during the Severing, and remain a crucial deterrent to rebellion from within: If a civil unrest ever becomes too widespread down in the basin, the Catharate can always shut off the water, effectively putting thousands of square miles under siege. While the Catharate has twice threatened to do so, they’ve never actually cut the water supply, but the concept remains a discouraging notion against organized revolt.
In the center of Acris lies the Schrade, a desert constantly constricting and expanding throughout the ages like the breaths of an arid tide, often taking outlying settlements with it. For this reason,the oldest and largest cities are rung by woods, formerly the hunting grounds and personal property of magistrates and lords, they are now maintained by Catharate fiat. Wisely so, as the bulwark of woods to the west and east are the only things preventing dust storms from burying the loamy soil of the floodplains and dooming the entire region. Some are stands are exploited as tree farms for firewood, charcoal and carprentry, but such activities are stringently regulated. Punishments for illegal logging are immediate, public, and brutal, usually death or permanent maiming. Such events are among the most tolerated and celebrated examples of Cathar justice, with even skeptics conceding them as reasonable; a half-day’s walk past their threshold, the buried rooftops of ancient settlements peek up from the dunes as an concrete reminder as to why.
