Black Sails of the East: A Chronicle of the Boteri Empire

    One of the first things I noticed when my feet led me to the markets of Kulkarest, one of the larger cities in western Boterin, was the simmering turbulence that never seems to leave the hearts and eyes of the men and women of the Eastern kingdoms. In Imperial Trevastian, a “kingdom” is a region ruled over by a Great House, but to the Ab’naki such ideas are foreign. Kingdoms come and go as often as the lives spent to win them, and violence is as much a part of the culture as blood is to the veins. One walk through the markets - as I dared to do, during my more eager, youthful years - is enough to paint a stark enough picture to set the imagination alight. The guards, with their heads draped in protective turbans and broad scimitars at the hip, seemed to have been molded to expect aggression from even the smallest of threats. I remember clearly the watchful glares that never left their faces as they watched me, the Trevastine, wander aimlessly through the many sand-washed stalls of the Kulkarest market.

    I found myself at a wonder, as I saw for the first time the many woven rugs and tapestries draped over merchant stalls, depicting a variety of blood-washed battles that would put the wars of Alendron and Rjillund to shame. To the reader, I tell you the truth of a man who has seen it firsthand: it would take a collection rivaled only by the most extensive in Trevast to match the volumes it would take to chronicle the conflicts of the Ab’naki, or “the favored”, in their tongue. Nary sage, wise man, nor Eastern scholar I could find in Kulkarest could even give me an idea of just how far back the nation began its woes of violence. Indeed, few enough cared to indulge the likes of a bookish, pale skinned Trevastine, but those who did are what gave life to the pages you now read.


    What I did discover, in speaking with the wise men of the East, was that the first nations of Boterin were born from the merging of tribes; either through war, a likeness of minds, or survival. Much like our own kingdoms in the West, these separate cities burgeoned through trade and high birth rates that usually follow in the wake of war. They enjoyed peace and suffered conflict as often as the seasons change, and were led by what their history describes as the most wealthy, influential, and powerful Shah.

    A Shah, as they are called in the East, are relatively comparable to the Kings of Trevast. They are the ultimate authority over the people of each nation, though they do not achieve this role by birth. Nay, each one that has existed in history has carved their way to the pinnacle of power through blood, talent, and strategy. Indeed, through their rule every nation has seen several small renaissances throughout their history, which displays how unique every Shah has been.

    Such power is destined to break its bounds, as my colleagues at the Citadel will readily lay claim. Many wars were fought by the Shah for influence and power over each other, and men and women both served them to their deaths. Whether motivated by the chance at wealth or for survival, you will hear different perspectives on the matter. Many men, some say, went to war with whips at their backs, while others gladly followed the flags of their Shah until it burned atop their corpses. In either case, they gave their lives in a series of great wars that defined Boterin and each of its nations.

    A key element of what has guided the people of the East to be so enveloped in this violent nature has been its religious beliefs. Unlike the people of Trevast, the Ab’naki revere a scornful pantheon of gods and goddess of whose likenesses were as foreign to me as the first touch of turmeric upon my tongue. They have many names, and though I fear I have not yet reached a consensus on how many their are and the nature of their separate purposes, there are at least three names that I have heard consistently in my travels: Isha, Akaman, and Paos. What I have gathered about the worship of these gods is that it is one of mercy, on behalf of the Boteri. They believe their gods to be the catalyst for all of the strife that they have endured over the centuries; from famine, to disease and suffering, it is the Eastern idea that the gods have enacted these attacks onto mankind to punish them for past sins.

    Great statues of these gods can be seen in various sizes and interpretations. Isha, the feminine goddess of fertility, piety, and water, often is displayed in the form of crowned woman with a robe that covers only half of her chest. She is often portrayed with the scaled arms and legs of a lizard, and is usually holding either a vase of water, or is shown holding her own pregnant belly. Isha is worshiped for many reasons, from those wanting healthy births, blessings of rain, or even mercy from disease. Though she is depicted as the most caring of the gods, her power is also given to her through offerings of food, trinkets, or otherwise. I’ve found that it is generally accepted that she does not hold much power in this regard, because too many people favor the more popular god of power, known as Akaman.

    The tusked, bald-headed god of war, success, and power, is probably the widest-worshiped in Boterin. Often portrayed with rippling muscle, holding a whip in one hand and a scimitar in the other, Akaman’s image is one that many knights of Trevast will immediately recognize. It is his image that is carved onto the bows of many Boteri warships, depicted on Boteri armor, and shouted by the warriors of the Ab’naki. On mainland Boterin, he is worshiped by most men and those who seek to be better than they currently are, whether that be more wealth, greater influence, or to appear more attractive to those they intend to woo, it is the tusked god who answers.

    Lastly, there is Paos. To Trevastines, he may seem to be the oddest of the Boteri gods I’ve mentioned thus far, but that is simply a matter of perspective. In Boterin, the four-armed, cross-legged god of fortune and fair winds is a common image among those who have been ignored by Akaman or spoken to the deaf ears of Isha. Depicted as a lithe, blind man with an emotionless face, statues and artwork of Paos are often portrayed with him holding various trinkets hanging from two of his hands, while the other two are pressed together in a display of prayer. He is the favored god of those who have had hard lives, and often hold the perspective that it is his blessing of fortune that has led to the success of others. However, many wealthy merchants, government officials, and others of great power also display his likeness in their homes. Whether or not this is done to simply satisfy him and provoke greater blessings is certainly debatable, but it is more often the case.
    
    The worship of these gods has continued throughout the writing of this chronicle, and I foresee no end to it. Through letters to the remaining few contacts I still am able to maintain in Kulkarest, I’ve learned that the Boteri have stood fast even more vehemently to their gods upon encountering the cultures of Trevast. Whether this is due to their repeated defeats, or simply a product of our conflicting systems of belief, I cannot say.

    Aside from their gods and warlike nature, I would scorn myself if I neglected to mention the artistic expressions of the Ab’naki people. Though I only saw one of the great cities of the east, let me be the first Trevastine to say that there exists a flourishing culture of art in Kulkarest, that I have also verified as being representative of Boterin as a whole. Painted clay pots are seen in every household, and one of the most vivid sights I will never forget was glimpsing the practice of sealing cracked pots with molten gold. Not only was this visually appealing, but indicative of how the Boteri view the application of such a lucrative resource. I daresay that no man or woman in Trevast would even think of using gold in such a way, but to the Boteri, sealing the cracks of something broken with something just as (if not more) valuable, to make it more beautiful than before, is simply a comment upon their culture.

    Oil paintings and great statues are also commonplace throughout the cities, and the architecture is often elaborately crafted with an artist’s eye. As I said before, woven tapestries are one of the first things I saw when entering the markets of Kulkarest, and are a staple of Boteri decor. Dyed rugs, silks, and fragrant sticks meant to be burned for the smell they give off, called ‘incense’, are other things one might find in the markets. Truly, they Ab’naki are nothing like those of us in the west, and though we have our differences, it is the opinion of the author that we could learn many things from their culture.