Ibn Khaldun

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𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 OOC Note: This particular roleplay instance is restricted in-game knowledge, not to be meta-gamed. A step through the threshold and Cunimund felt his foot plant, but saw the arch of his foot span towards the visible horizon. His breath caught as he visually experienced himself lurch forward into an archway filled with colorless black. In a split second, he felt a hand against his chest hold him in place as he and Um'thraka shunted through to a new plane. A second after, Cunimund felt himself lean forward half-expecting to fall and his breathing become agitated, excited. The elder Ork appeared next to him, still with his arm braced against Cunimund's chest, unflinching and unaffected by the sojourn between the mortal plane and where they stood now. The first step after the sojourn tossed fresh embers and smote wood up as if the earth beneath him belched the fiery remains of a forest fire. Cunimund's breathing grew exasperated as black dust choked him; his eyes welled with tears agitated by the odious air beneath a forehead already smearing with dust and debris. He closed his eyes and batted his lashes as ash blew with forge-bellowed winds and danced across the ground in front of him in little dust devils and harmattans. The surface of the ground both Cunimund and Um'thraka stood on spread unevenly, alternating in color between pitch black and a rich, striated orange one might see when an ember is fed a blown breath. The firmament above them ran the same alternating colors; the two of them had shunted into a cavern. Um'thraka bade Cunimund to follow, having found a solitary exit from the chamber they just arrived in. The two approached the mouth of the cave by shuffling against the cavern walls towards both sides of the opening. A dull, grotesque drumming echoed into the cavern they shared; its sound low enough to indicate a far distance. They both peered out and onto an expansive plain whose sky glowed a sickly pink and towered overhead starless and unremarkable. The Ork grunted and jabbed a thumb to the horizon where the sky and the open plain met. Cunimund's face sagged with the weight of forlorn and regret. Two-hundred yards from them marched a wicked host. The demons that comprised this host varied in size and in form; some marching on two feet while beasts of burden pulling unwieldy siege engines dragged them on four or eight feet. Some carried polearms and zweihanders with two hands while others carried smaller arms in four hands total. Their bodies were scored with eldritch tattoos and jewelry, some had grotesque horns and appendages of bone jutting out from their heads.

Cunimund led his horse in a canter towards the Hand of Horen. He entered the palace, making the mountain-strenuous climb to the office for the High Curator. He removed the ornate lapel pin, indicating his office, and rested it on his old desk. He took a deep breath, eyes scanning over the copious bookshelves and their fill. He left the office without a single book retrieved from the office he retired from.

KELIK HAL'SAGAONMAGJOZ Sprækjom for "Tower of the Great Library" 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 The Cingedoz enjoy the crafting of narratives, the retelling of stories, and the production of great tomes containing myths, lore, and histories. Cunimund has recently completed the first level of a tower, to be extended as more and more books are written, gathered, or even stolen, which will house a vast repository of knowledge. Even the Argant'Elvellynoz may be rivaled once the tower has been expanded and more levels are added to reach further up into the heavenly firmaments. . .

Although I am currently waiting for my moderation permissions to be removed as I've stepped down, I am going to go ahead and lock this thread.

A meadhall has been opened to accommodate all those visiting the Cingedoz hamlet.

Moderator Comments

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 Boisterous banter bounced from person to person gathered in the runestone circle in the centre of Bodbwodz. An Orc proselytized to a Cingedoz; recalling the spirits in his pantheon with glee. A woman shuffled and fidgeted, side-eyeing another of the Cingedoz whose exclamatory expressions were directed to a Lechian. "Latz can name da zpiritz, nub harm in dat." "Are you sure you aren't going to eat us?" "Hah! You hear the word tribe and think us savages?" "Gott mit uns, it is a good night to share with the baronial neighbors of Merryweather!" "I wanted to ask to be sworn in as sheriff o' Cunimund, the recent attacks of the cholerny darkspawn has spurred me on to make a decision. I mean to learn the tradition of the hale Cingedos and to adopt the mantle of culture." Cunimund turned to face his younger counterpart, a fatherly smile beaming. He stood up, going to withdraw a long folded bundle from a nearby earthen-hovel. "Good Wrotek, it gladdens mine heart ta' hear ye' return. It has been years since ye' first replied to mine offer, bidding me farewell as ye' go out ta' learn the letters and ta' manner af' reading and 'rithmetic," Cunimund replied, drawing off the folded cloak that hid the falx in his possession. He motioned for Wrotek to stand, the two men facing each other surrounded by the small company of tribe-guests. "I bid thee ta' uplift ta' tribe, ta' uphold ta' law, ta abide by ta' axioms. Know t'at t'ough all af' ta' tribe keep peace an' maintain order, ta' position ye' know as sheriff, to us uemgutus meaning voice of law that we may have a formal person to keep peace and to hunt after the criminal, the eldritch, and the rude who haunt the roads and the woods and the mountains of our land and neighboring domains." Wrotek bowed just as Cunimund held out the falx; the long blade passing from Baron to the new sheriff. A mixed response ranging from nervous applause from the woman from the sewers of Lurin to rowdy chants from the Orc.

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 Missives are transported on both horseback and by water-bound vessel, first throughout the Crownlands and surrounding duchies of Aaun, then to those neighboring nations with no discrimination to who receives them. The few heralds who harken the contents of the missives address the Elves as Elvellynoz, the Orcs as brydaloz, and the common greeting of Slanu! and Wæshæl! is often addressed to those who the Cingedoz riders introduce themselves to. One particular rider transport a sort of makeshift icon with a painting displayed visibly, he called it an Anteutavahālig - a Dignified Boon. Across the missives and the manners by which the tribesmen convey message, they all seem to go like this. . .

MC Name: IbnKhaldun8 Discord: IbnKhaldun8 Image: Description of Image: Symbolic carving in a runestone Dimensions: 1 wide, 1 high

𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅗𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅯𝅘𝅥𝅮 The two men approached a narrow, decorative bridge spanning across the pond dug neatly in one corner of the Oyashiman-styled villa. One of the men, with a kabuto crowning his head, crossed gingerly to the opposite end and left the other to plant his feet on the end just crossed. The pair held sparring swords as still as the pond's untouched edge beneath them. The only movement between the duelists at first was that of their eyes, tracing each other and their foregrounds; koi fish raced in patterns beneath the surface of the pond. "You both will spar with one another. The first to make contact with the other's body gains a point, the first to three will win. If you topple over into the water, your opponent will also gain a point." The Renshin duelist made his first approach, holding his sword high over his right shoulder and shuffling his feet enough to close the distance between his opponent. His strike bore down against his opponent's left side and his opponent attempted to beat back the blow before it landed against him. "Nemeto ach teutoaju!" [¹] Wood beat against flesh, making for a dull gong. An excited yelp and the men separated. "One point for Mogura-san!" Cunimund turned on the balls of his feet to face Mogura again. He initiated the approach this time, taking a one-two step forward and bringing the sword in a swipe upward and towards Mogura's left hip. The Renshin reciprocated with a block and a lunge forward. "Hwakin ju sin dobre?!" [²] Wood drummed against clavicle, a louder beat. Cunimund withdrew this time no longer with smile, but a mouth agape with aggravation. "Another point for Mogura!" Mogura, on his third approach, closed with greater speed. Cunimund raised his sparring sword while keeping his hips open and balance teetering between both knees; the Renshin's attack came too swiftly for the Cingedoz to respond. Cunimund closed his eyes and clenched his mouth as Mogura sent him careening off the bridge and into the pond below. He surfaced, gasping for air like a fish out of water and with a lilypad resting on his head like a kasa [³]. The two met and embraced after Cunimund climbed out of the pond, Cunimund remarking on the martial tradition of the Renshin. Ame, tasked with refereeing the spar, inclined with courtesy and came to Cunimund carrying towels to dry himself. "I've clearly spent too much time fightin' in shieldwalls and naught enough time taking care ta' develop mineself in one-on-one combats. Tis' a honor ta' duel ye'. Yer' sword-strokes fell true t'is day good Mogura!" Cherry blossoms scented the breeze that blew in between the walls that enclosed the Renshin tsuboniwa [⁴], the calm after the combat.

Camboshālig [Common: Trade-boons] This Camboshalig has been commemorated in Year 148 of the Second Age and is a trade-boon from the Dominion of Vortice. The rix Cunimund warns his kin that the Vorticians are a difficult people to find, but they have an entire plateau carved out where shop stalls litter the geological formation. He works to dissuade his people from visiting as they will not be well-received to trade person to person in open trade.

During a visit down to Apfelberg, at the base of the Langkette Mountains, Cunimund received a letter. A-ha! That castle I passed on the border of Aaun & Lurin must belong to Ser Gawyn. He sent the letter then to his kinsman Sendrenx, inviting him and his Elf-Friend Yorvill to bring their musical instruments with them.

Cunimund, Yorvill, and a few tribesmen rode along the high road overlooking the cove facing the Silver Sea between Dunfarthing and Aaun. The Baron peeled back leaf after leaf from a red cabbage, eating it and remarking on its watery freshness. A wagon creaked and groaned as its wheels turned against cobblestones. The tribesmen rejoiced, promising one another to visit the Commune again.

Camboshālig [Common: Trade-boons] This Camboshalig has been commemorated in Year 148 of the Second Age and is a trade-boon from the Commune of Wyrtmark-Kabestan. Their leader, Arijoutsi ( @LordofCabbage ), exchanged it with Cunimund hal'Cingedoz after the Baron led a trade caravan from the Barony of Bodbwodz to Dunfarthing - land of the Halflings. This particular cabbage has been encased in brine to preserve, an aged sauerkraut if you will.

THE FOLK, ADOPTERS, & THE DESCENDANTS The tribal tradition is upheld by three - those Highlanders who can trace lineage to the ancestry stretching back to Asulon, those adopting the tradition & practice it freely regardless of their race, & those descendants who are related to the folk through intermarriage. Some of the notable, living characters as of the year 1944 [148 Second Age] include Cunimund hal'Cingedoz, Ogmios Catuvolcus hal'Cingedoz, Owain Fawr hal'Cingedoz, Grimhildr Arkent-Chen nee Falkenrath & the following characters: In the years between the settlement of the Barony and the year 144 of the Second Age, the Cingedoz have lost a waxtolangoi [Common: Elder] to death of old age - Morgause hal'Hrundzdur. INTERESTED IN JOINING? Click Below!

Banter and the like of it can certainly still be posted. All you have to do is highlight said banter and click the Spoiler option [the eye icon] on the text editor for forum posts. Likewise, you can still banter on non-Roleplay forums. I am not going to police peoples' fun save for when people think they can dress their banter with invective and animus like a ghillie suit.

The purpose of this forum topic is to serve as a notice & a warning to all those players who have become comfortable injecting their out-of-character animus over roleplay and/or out-of-character altercations into the text or subtext of their replies across the various roleplay subforums. I will be combing through the copious amounts of forum threads of late and assigning warnings for behavior that is in violation of the rules found here: I trust that especially the older players (high school, college aged, & older) need not be reminded that even if they as Player B are antagonized by Player A choosing to make a rule-breaking post against them that this does not give them, Player B, the ability to bypass the forum rules and post a rule-breaking post in return. I am not interested in managing gangs of people going blow-for-blow over their pixels or their made-up families. Re-read the forum rules and from now on, post in the appropriate fashion. If you need examples on how to post properly, ping me on Discord @ IbnKhaldun8. If you find yourself incapable of resisting from "shit"posting and/or trying as you might to sneakily underwrite your OOC animus for another player in a RP subforum topic reply, then let me know and I can content moderate your forum account whereby all posts you make would need to be approved by a moderator. This entire paragraph even applies to fellow moderators. Thank you.

That is some Aegis/Asulon-era deep lore you got there. I wonder who gave it to you 😉

Click the above image to join our Cingedoz Discord and put in your request for your forum thread to be turned into a Minecraft book!

Play my Baron's son.