Karsokm, Veinbrides, and the steppelands
Credit to @wietsej
Everything in this series revolves around the steppelands north of Verdusk, it’s both the beginning and the end, the Spiral’s core and it’s ever-stretching tendrils. Strap in, folks. This is a long one! It’s more lore-building than announcement for those who want to check in (or out).
Verdusk’s claim to Karsk is one the people of the steppe (obviously) never consented to, and that animosity between the two sides is what more or less spurs everything else in this world on.
Before Siwa and the Spiral, before Myrreko and the Rizen, there was Karsokm and the people of the steppe; this place was revered, treated as holy and sacred, and its inhabitants followed a belief revolving around a sacred Goddess and Her three “parts”. Karsk itself sat on a convergence point in the northeastern-European peninsula. The gathering point, built over a perfectly-carved and impossibly-deep hole, was split between the steppelands, the mountain range, and the sea. Here the offerings started, the sacrifices of flesh and dreams and so much more. The people of Karsk willingly gave themselves to this pit, seeing it as a way to return to their Goddess. Over time, the practices became refined; a culture formed around the settlement and that culture became a town.
The people of the steppe traced all living things back to motherhood, to birth and life and death of a creature. Mother Predzkya, their sacred Goddess, was the embodiment of all of this: the Goddess of Blood. This didn’t just end with people, though. The plants, the animals, the very earth itself was seen as one giant, intertwined, living entity. Taking care of oneself meant taking care of one’s family which meant taking care of one’s community, and one’s surroundings, and so on. Community love was encouraged, self-sacrifice (both on the small and large scale) was without hesitation, and the delicate balance between life and death melted away. The sick would give themselves to the pit, the healthy would give themselves to the land, the pit would give the town absolution, the land would give the people nourishment.
Seperate from Karsk, but still intertwined, were the steppe’s original inhabitants, the ones who never grew to be townsfolk. These people, known as Veinbrides or Veinkin, were seen as extensions of Predzkya’s will. They functioned as witches, as midwives, as caretakers and as defenders of the steppelands. They danced to the wind’s grace and twirled to the words of the flowers. The Veinbrides, above all others on the steppe, were intimately familiar with Predzkya and the Karsktown pit. They knew the earth’s most wild languages, communed with things no others could comprehend, and advised the people of Karsk during hard times.
The country that would eventually be known as Verdusk saw all of this as a golden opportunity, a land brimming with value and exploitable treasures. They sought the steppe long before the Great Karsk War, marching across it once a generation to proclaim it as theirs, and the Maravina family line was hellbent on claiming Karsk. The Spiral religion that Verdusk birthed, itself a stolen and malformed husk of the Veinbride’s beliefs, was used as an excuse to stake an unflinching claim on the land. Despite repeated protests from other groups both Spiralist and otherwise, Verdusk marched on. Over the centuries, their soldiers’ weapons grew restless and their leader’s ambitions bubbled over. Asking for the town hadn’t worked, despite countless attempts to placate its residents. What is a king to do when his entire bloodline has been told ‘no’ over and over? The land is his, after all. The Spiral faith wouldn’t exist without the Maravina line creating it themselves. The people of the steppe should be grateful, thankful even, that they are allowed to live in such a holy place.
The last living ruler of the Maravina family line, Edward, never once set foot in the steppe. He never watched the bomb tests, never saw the bloody war between the UDF and Verdusk’s forces at Vercht, and never bothered to ask why his troops were wiped out at Karsk only an hour before the bombs fell. His grandfather, however, saw the town. Tyyne Maravina was an ambitious man, one who knew the world was his for the taking, and when he made his final few trips to Karsk he wanted to ensure they would be worth the while. He met a young woman, a Veinbride who saw him for who he really was. He made sure the plague that hit Karsokm would wipe it out. He ensured that anyone who tried to flee the steppe was killed. Tyyne was a patient man, and one who didn’t make mistakes. He knew he wouldn’t live to see Karsk as the Spiral’s Goddess intended — a place where the Spiral faith could domineer over the world.
Yet, despite all of this, that stubborn, stupid Veinbride stuck with him. Myrrenna was her name. A striking woman, one he’d almost felt bad about dooming. She’d have made a hell of a queen, he thought. His wife had been replaced within his mind, and so when he returned to the greater world, he spoke of Marianne: a Saint, an angel, a being embodying Predzkya’s very essence.
He spoke of Marianne to his family too, spoke of her aura, her presence, her perfection. He became obsessed, refused to let his phantom go. Tyyne died alone, praying to Predzkya for a sign of the woman he’d clung to, and She said nothing.
Regardless, the Cataclysm came. Regardless, it wiped Verdusk clean. Regardless, in some twisted way, Tyyne’s prayers were answered.
