When a group of Miirfolk band together for a long period, they form a Circle. Most Circles last for years, decades, or even lifetimes, their members working together for profit, prosperity, and mutual assistance. Circles can be made of people with a common skill base (craftsfolk, mages, bards, fighters, etc.) or as a complementary collection of varying specializations. When many Circles come together to form a single cooperative with more power than the member Circles would have individually, the resulting larger group is referred to as a Sphere. Every Circle has its own traditions, in-jokes, and rituals; many develop their own unique Flower Code so that they can pass messages without others being aware of the exact meaning.
Wildflowers proliferate throughout the lands of Faen’miir, and cultivated flowering plants seem to do particularly well in Miirfolk gardens. Blossoms of every variety are a sort of national symbol of Faen’miir; the Miirfolk have developed a number of ways of preserving them with magic, and flower crowns or garlands worn around the neck are part of everyday garb in Faen’miir. The exact combination of flowers that are worn or presented as a gift is its own informal language in the nation, known as a Flower Code, though there are many variations on what individual flowers or combinations of flowers mean across the entire Queendom. This has led to regular misunderstandings, such as when a merchant from the Spring Hall wore black tulips woven into a necklace as a sign of mourning for a lost friend, but the folk of the Winter Hall to whom he was trying to sell his wares mistook the flowers for a death threat. The only universal expression in every Flower Code of Faen’miir is the dusty pink rose, which either represents or shows support for the Queen and the Court.
<aside> 🌸 OOC Note: You are welcome to make up your own Flower Code or use a pre-existing one, and either share it with other players or keep it to yourself and your Circle. If Wheelhouse or any NPCs send a message in Flower Code, the Faen’miir player-base will be informed ahead of time, either given the Code outright or given an opportunity to find out which Code is being used for the message.
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Miirfolk love to dance, and every community holds regular communal dances in a public space. Cities and large towns hold weekly events after the work week is over, while smaller towns and villages hold them every couple of months. The dance square or hall is the center of a local community’s social life, and every resident attends if they wish to take part in civic activity or connect with others in the community, regardless of whether they actually intend to dance. Courtships in particular frequently begin and, after they’ve progressed a certain amount, are made public at communal dances. Most communal dances feature a small feast, a dance floor where people dance together until the event ends, and a ring of seats surrounding the floor where onlookers eat, drink, and gossip, maintaining the community’s cohesion and mending any bonds that may have been strained by events since the last event.
The actual dance styles at communal dances vary tremendously, both from year to year and region to region. Miirfolk love to try out and learn new styles. The classics, though, are the ones where as many people as wish to can join in, great square and circle dances with dozens and dozens of participants all flowing around and between one another to the sound of the music. Paired or individual dances are also appreciated, but they’re seen as being a way to show off by yourself rather than to let the community join in, especially if they require large parts of the floor to be dedicated to one person or pair. often reserved for people annoucing engagments
Dancing is heavily connected with two other Faen’miir traditions. An entire category of solo and group dances exists that is specifically designed to be used as a means of attaining a Fugue, with repetitive and predictable motions that make it easier to enter into that sublime state of flowing now. Flower Code is everywhere during communal dances, and deciphering who is trying to communicate what is a critical part of navigating that social scene — picking out which young bachelors or bachelorettes are interested in finding romance, who is upset with who, or whether someone is still in mourning after a friend has passed. During springtime dances flowers are traditionally hung above the dance floor, to bring the season’s blessings to those taking part in the event.
Queen Titania is the axis around whom the Queendom rotates, the singular figure who has defined the past millennia of Faen’miir’s existence. She ascended the throne a thousand years ago after the Faebane Churning, standing amidst the ruins left behind by the corruption of the tyrannical God King of Faen’miir and the Old Gods’ assault. Fully two-thirds of the nation’s population had either been slain or fled elsewhere, and it was only with the concerted efforts of the other nations of the Continent that the cultist hordes were finally driven from Faen’miir’s soil. The ruined nation needed a miracle to survive its wounds, and Titania did what she needed to in order to give her people a future. Who she was before her ascension is a mystery, her identity erased from history — all that she and the Miirfolk know is that she was a hero of the Churning, one who sacrificed her name, her past, and her very identity to become the savior of her nation.
As part of her ascension, Titania signed a Contract with three of the Saints — Elemi, Baellin, and Eravae — to grant her the power to save Faen’miir and its people. In it, she gave up her previous identity and any dreams of her own future, gaining in return a limited immortality and binding herself to the land and the folk who dwell there. So long as she has the trust and love of her people, she and Faen’miir will prosper; should she ever lose that trust, she and the nation she cares for will sicken and wither. In the millennia of her rule, she has governed wisely and well, quickly learning from her mistakes and always placing the needs of her people first. Within the first two decades after taking the throne, the new Queen had reforged the broken bonds of trust between the Miirfolk, creating her Court and the four Halls that revolve around it; within a century, the nation was once more flourishing, albeit still bearing the scars of its traumatic near-destruction.
The sacred Contract remains within the throne room at the heart of the Court, displayed on the wall above Titania’s modest throne for all to read. The Queen bears a copy of it embroidered into her cloak wherever she goes, to remind herself and her people of the bonds that tie them all together and the weight of her responsibilities. The Contract holds sway over the lands of the Queendom, granting oaths and bargains a heavier metaphysical weight than they might otherwise have, and aiding the Queen in enforcing the boundaries of the realm — those who would seek to invade with malicious intent often find themselves frustrated and stymied by the land itself, as Titania’s will draws Faen’miir’s defenders towards them like iron to a lodestone.
Many nations have a cultural obsession with oaths, the making and keeping of them, and Faen’miir is one of them. However, rather than being a concern of honor and integrity, for the Miirfolk the making and keeping of oaths is a metaphysical matter — Titania’s Contract has infused the Queendom with Elemi’s influence, making it actively unlucky to break an oath once it has been made. The effect is relatively minor, just a short spate of bad luck that causes small inconveniences or slightly inflates problems in scale and severity. Over the millennium of Titania’s reign, though, it has grown significantly in the telling, making for a deep-seated superstition amongst the Miirfolk that to break your word is to invite a terrible curse from Elemi herself upon your head.
As a consequence, Miirfolk are very conscientious about the agreements they make and clarifying whether or not what they say is a promise or something more vague and less binding. They believe that any promise or deal made under duress isn’t binding, and that the most powerful oaths are ones made with purpose and formality, with minor, off-the-cuff promises having a much more moderate curse attached to breaking them than oaths which were made with real intent and formal language. Oath-breakers are viewed as pariahs amongst the Miirfolk more because they believe that it takes a substantial amount of time for the ill-luck of breaking an oath to wear off than for any moral or honor-code reasons; it’s thought to be actively unsafe to spend time around an oath-breaker, for fear of their curse lashing out and catching you as collateral damage.
The metaphysical effects of the Contract take time to sink in; visitors to Faen’miir need not fear a curse hitting them for breaking an oath, but those who spend more than a year or two in the Queendom had best be mindful of keeping their promises. Perhaps more frustratingly for the Miirfolk, the effects of the Contract take a significant amount of time to fade, roughly equivalent to the amount of time that someone has spent within the Queendom, making it impossible to evade even if someone travels abroad for an extended period. Miirfolk have perforce become very skilled at phrasing oaths in ways that let them take advantage of the letter of the agreement when dealing with foreigners whom they dislike, a skill that has only been sharpened by the penchant of the Sidhe to use similar tricks against the Miirfolk themselves.
Soon after they reach their majority, every young Miirfolk is expected to spend two years in the nation’s service, training in arms, magic, and logistics within the sprawling army camps of the Summer Hall and then helping to defend the Queendom wherever the need arises. Those who show talent, either in soldiering or in the leadership of soldiers, are offered longer-term employment in the Army, as well as more specialized and intensive training. Many young Miirfolk who don’t have a particular goal in mind and who don’t find army life objectionable frequently spend another three or six years in one of the nation’s armies, honing their skills and serving their nation as they seek a trade or profession that calls to them.
This period of service, known as the National Commission, serves to ensure that there is always a standing army (though admittedly one that is constantly half-full of fresh recruits) and that every citizen of the Queendom is trained to some extent in how to defend themselves and their community should war or danger strike. The Royal Army’s induction and training regimen is grueling, but they do what they can to ensure that every citizen comes out of it in good health and with new skills and discipline that they can use for the rest of their lives.
The Commission began early during Titania’s reign, to ensure that her people would never again be left helpless against a tyrant’s reign of terror. Over time, as her reign proved a benevolent one, this ideal of training the common folk in case they need to rise up against their government has faded to a tradition rather than a real concern. In the modern age, the Commission is seen as an opportunity for advancement, a civic duty, and a critical right of every Miirfolk — only if they’re trained and ready to take up arms will they be able to stand against the harshness of the world outside the Queendom’s idyllic realm. At the start of their Commission, each Miirfolk swears an oath to their nation, their Hall, and their family, while those who choose to remain in the armed forces after their Commission has been completed swear an oath to the Queendom, the Court, and the Queen herself; the distinction between the two oaths is small, but it carries a great historical weight.
The Máistrean, also known as Maestros, are the best of the best in Faen’miir, people who have proven themselves so good at their craft or profession that they have shaped its development for a generation or more. They are recognized by Titania herself, their names entered into the rolls held within the Rose Court and erased from history; forever after, they are known as the Máistrean of their profession, losing their previous name to become Maestro Blacksmith, Maestro Apothecary, Maestro Dancer, etc. If there are multiple Máistrean within a profession at once, their names change to reflect their specialty or contributions; Maestro Blacksmith becomes Maestro Weaponsmith, Maestro Apothecary becomes Maestro Elixir-Brewer, Maestro Dancer becomes Maestro Flying Dancer, etc. These Roles are updated and enforced by the magic of the Court, replacing their bearers’ names in all written records of the Queendom, one of the minor but pervasive miracles of Titania’s Contract.
Máistrean are minor celebrities in Faen’miir, though it’s seen as uncouth and rather prideful to pursue the title for its renown. The goal of becoming Máistrean is not fame or notoriety; it is the pursuit of mastery in one’s craft or profession to the point where you reach the edge of what is possible or known, and then push further. It is a combination of mastery and paradigm-shifting discoveries or achievements that alter how those who come after perform their craft. Few masters will admit to seeking out a Role for themselves, but like all grand prizes the existence of the chance to go down in history as one of the greats acknowledged by the Queen herself tends to push people beyond what they might otherwise pursue on their own.
Miirfolk have a reverence for the flow state that can occur when someone is particularly skilled at a skill or trade and becomes completely immersed in whatever they’re doing. The loss of awareness of anything except their task, intense and effortless focus, and feeling of exaltation of what they call the Fugue is seen by the Miirfolk as being both a prayer and a blessing. Many Miirfolk crafters practice something akin to moving meditation in an attempt to regularly attain this state, and it’s believed by many Miirfolk that a master’s best work is done while in a Fugue. Artwork appraisal in Faen’miir is particularly prone to being skewed based on whether an artist was said to be in a Fugue when they produced a piece.
The appreciation of Fugue applies to non-crafting tasks as well — warriors seek to attain a Fugue during combat drills and battle, and performers try to lose themselves in the dance or music. Gardening, cooking, and reading have also been found to be paths to attaining a Fugue, and many bibliophiles and amateur chefs swear by their chosen hobby as a way of getting closer to the divine. Due to the rigors that a Fugue can take on the body, those who are known to have attained one recently are often treated with as much concern and care as they are with respect and awe — there are a number of folk tales in Faen’miir of brilliant crafters starving to death because they went into a week-long Fugue state, uncaring about sleep, food, or water, and the people of the nation take care to ensure that such tales don’t repeat themselves in real life.
The O-Del’s Ironbound Focus and Anvil, Forge, And Grindstone rituals are particularly prized by the Miirfolk, as they are seen as being a consecrated means of triggering this state in a crafter. Dwarves who journey to Faen’miir, whether they’re crafters or not, are often given a certain level of respect simply because of their Lineage’s reputation for being able to lose themselves in their craft or profession, giving them an inborn means of attaining a Fugue’s exaltation.
Faen’miir Spirits tend to manifest from trees and beasts, rather than any other source; the Otter-King dwells in the rivers, the Oak-King dwells in the forests, and the Cat-King lives in the cities and villages. The elemental and conceptual Spirits, those of storm or earth, of graveyard or artifice, of structures or villages, are few and far between in the Queendom. The Spirits of Faen'miir see themselves as subjects of Titania, just as the mortals who live there do. The Miirfolk in turn view them as otherworldly fellow citizens, granting them the title suffix of “-King” (no matter their gender) and showing them the respect they are due as a powerful and capricious class of pseudo-nobility.
Because of the omnipresence of the Spirit-Kings across the Queendom, the Miirfolk know to treat all parts of the natural world with respect. If you trip over a root, apologize to the tree; you never know if you rudely stepped on the Larch-King. If you hunt a stag, always do so properly and without undue suffering, and always thank it for its sacrifice so that you might eat, for it might have been the Stag-King offering you a test of your hunting skills. Many villages set up small shrines on their outskirts or near the territory of a nearby Spirit-King, so that they might give offerings of thanks or to apologize for disturbing the Spirit.
Every few years, Queen Titania invites all the Spirit-Kings to her Court to discuss the state of the nation and hear out any grievances they might have, treating them with the same respect as she shows her mortal nobility. The Spirit-Kings also bring a sense of safety to the Miirfolk, as most of them are quite happy to help mortals in need within their territory; those who accidentally fall into the river may find themselves helped to shore by the Beaver-King, while newcomers lost in a city may find themselves being led to a friendly inn by the Cat-King. The Spirit-Kings have also proven themselves capable defenders of the Queendom, rising up and harrying those who would seek to invade or plunder the land they call home.
The Veil between Mundus and the Primal Wilds is thin in Faen’miir, and there are numerous Gates and pathways between the material plane and that Far Realm scattered across the Queendom. Monsters of the Wilds and the Heralds and other servants of the Primal Lords who rule there make their way into Faen’miir regularly, and the folk of the Queendom are all-too-well-aware of the dangers that such entities can represent if encountered on the road or in the wilds. The Miirfolk refer to the creatures and people that are native to the Primal Wilds indirectly, calling them such things as “the neighbors under the hill,” “the gentlefolk of faraway,” or simply as the Sidhe (pronounced “shee”), an old Sylvan word for distant nobility. There is a superstition amongst the Miirfolk that calling the name of a Primal Lord attracts the notice of one of their Heralds and that even referencing one can sometimes draw their attention, so the Miirfolk are always polite when speaking about such entities, just in case one is listening in.
The Sidhe have wandered and plagued the lands of Faen’miir since the height of Ferus’ imperial grandeur, when Ferukhar intentionally weakened the Veil between the region and the Primal Wilds. After the Godswar, without Ferukhar’s influence to keep the Sidhe out of the region, the people of the lands that would become the Queendom had to learn how to deal with and avoid the worst depredations of the Sidhe. Avoidance, politeness, cleverness, and passing along tricks that worked and weaknesses to exploit were usually the most reliable of methods, though many warriors and mages made a glorious living hunting down the most rabid Sidhe.
Once Titania had ascended the throne, however, her Contract presented a new tool to protect her people from the entities beyond the Veil. She demanded an audience with the greatest Primal Lords of each Season, and bound them with an oath: they and all their ilk would be honored guests in her realm whenever they ventured there, and would be treated as such so long as they obeyed the rules of guest right, but would be struck down and wither away should they ever violate it. Ever after, the Sidhe have been model but capricious visitors, no longer hunting Miirfolk for sport but instead behaving like the strange and tricksy nobility that they are known as today. The Miirfolk no longer fear a Sidhe-Wolf savaging them in the night, but are very aware that they should show politeness and respect to any stranger they meet upon the road, for woe betide those who give offense to the folk from beneath the hills.
An underground anarchist organization that has cells throughout the Queendom, the Counter-Clocks are seen as a menace and a force of unnecessary and disruptive chaos by most Miirfolk. Convinced that the status quo of Faen’miir is fundamentally stagnant, wrong, and unjust, the Counter-Clocks stage anti-government protests, send strongly-worded letters to the various news publications in the Queendom, make demonstrative strikes against representatives of the Court and Halls, and generally try to convince other Miirfolk to rise up against the Queen and the rest of the nation’s government. The fact that they never do a significant amount of damage, and are careful to not do anything that would get them jailed for significant periods, has kept them firmly in the “troublemakers” category rather than being declared enemies of the state, but many Miirfolk worry that one day they’ll get frustrated — or desperate — enough to do something really destructive.
The Counter-Clocks have a pattern of trying to recruit from those who have just finished their Commission or are going through higher education. Their membership is usually young and itching for a chance to prove themselves, but most age out of the organization and leave when they get fed up with the secrecy and skullduggery or worried about the impact that getting caught might have on their future. However, there is a dedicated core to the organization, scattered in cells across the Queendom, and these are who the Court and Halls are most worried about — true believers in the wrongness of the status quo, who may very well decide that their current methods are just not enough and escalate into something that will pose a real threat to the nation’s security.
The changing of the seasons holds a special place in the hearts of the Miirfolk, and the days of the Equinox and Solstice have a number of formal rituals surrounding the passage of the year from season to season. These formal days have a more festive mirror on the days when it first feels like the season is changing — the first frost, the first bloom, the first harvest, etc. These days are marked by celebrations and festivities, as the entire community comes out to celebrate the continued turning of the year and the new opportunities opened up by the passing from one season to the next.
The Spring Equinox is marked by elders of the community planting frost-hardy seeds and seedlings in prominent places around the town, speeches about how the community has fared throughout the winter, and prayers for prosperity in the coming year. The First Bloom festival is held soon after the first wildflowers begin to appear and fruit trees start to blossom. It usually involves all of the magically-preserved flowers from the past year being brought out to festoon the community’s central square or hall, where a rowdy party and communal dance is hosted to start the year off.
The Summer Solstice is marked by patriotic rituals honoring the Hall, the Court, and the Queen, and ceremonies honoring the farmers and teachers of the community, who ensure that it can survive and who help the next generation to grow up strong and wise. The First Bounty festival is held after the first harvest is brought in, a hearty feast put on by the leaders of the community for all to partake in and make merry after the hard work of bringing in the crops.
The Autumn Equinox is marked by ceremonies and rituals focused on the bringing in of the last harvest and preparations for winter, with prayers for safety and serenity held at the cardinal points around the community. The First Frost festival is held in the days after the first snowfall or frost of the year, and features a grand tournament where members of the community compete in a wide variety of games and competitions. The festival usually turns into a giant potluck, as folk bring out and share any food that they don’t have room or time to preserve for the winter.
The Winter Solstice is marked by rituals praying for and remembering those who have passed away in the previous year, a time of silent mourning for the folk who will not be seen again on this side of the Veil. The First Dawn festival is held the first sunny day after the Solstice, and is a celebration of the new year and the new possibilities inherent that lie waiting to be found. Presents are exchanged amongst friends and families, and children are encouraged to go play outdoors under the winter sun. A sedate communal dance is held at noon, with an emphasis on reaffirming bonds that may have been strained over the course of the past year.
Grey is the color of death in Faen’miir, the shade of absence that is left behind when all colors are removed from the world. The Miirfolk believe strongly in the cycles of the world, and that death is a necessary and even cherished part of those cycles, but they still mourn deeply when those they love are taken from them, never to be seen or spoken to again on this side of the Veil. Mourning lasts as long as an individual needs it to, though it’s seen as a cause for concern by the rest of the community if someone remains in mourning for over a year.
Funerals in Faen’miir are a chance to say goodbye and to send the departed on with all the blessings that the living can muster. Miirfolk believe that the soul leaves for the afterlife once its life has been recounted, and that afterwards what is left behind is merely meat, bone, and life energy, which rightfully belong to the cycle of nature and to the land of Faen’miir itself.
Before the funeral, the body is ritually cleansed and presented upon a bier of branches and flowers for mourners to say their farewells. Once the living have spoken all that they wish to the departed, a mystic of Bakharos or Druathos performs the Acknowledgement, reciting the deceased’s deeds and accomplishments while the mourners slowly walk in a circle around the bier. Once the recitation is complete, the soul of the departed passes on into the Veil and to its fated afterlife, and the mourners disperse to hold a party in the lost one’s honor.
The body is passed to the Bodytenders, a sect of Thendros that specializes in mortuary preparations. It is placed into a vat of alchemical solvents, which over a few weeks’ time dissolve the flesh and leave the bones behind; the bones are extracted, and the nutrient-rich soup is carefully decanted and given to the family or community of the deceased to return to the land in a means that they feel most appropriate.
The bones are sent to various places around Faen’miir. The ribs are divided amongst the friends and family, who often keep them as memento mori of the deceased. The sternum is engraved with the deceased’s name and any particularly important deeds or anecdotes that their family wish for the Queen and her Court to know about the deceased, and then sent to the Rose Court, where it is stored alongside all of the others in massive catacombs that wind beneath the capital city.
The other bones are sent to the four corners of the realm, where they are ground into powder and incorporated into the great rituals of the respective Hall. The skull goes to the Winter Hall, to aid the sight of the diviners there. The left arm and leg are sent to the Spring Hall, to bring life and joy to the land. The spine, pelvis, and any remaining ribs go to the Summer Hall, to strengthen the people and the land itself. Finally, the right arm and leg are sent to the Autumn Hall, to weave the people of the Queendom together into one nation.
Miirfolk alchemists long ago developed an alchemical concoction known as Finis, which weakens the bond between the body and soul and allows someone who is already ailing to pass peacefully from their mortal shell. The substance only works on those who actively accept death, and only causes nausea and cramping in those who still cling to life. Soldiers at war will often carry a small vial with them and consume it after a brutal battle if their wounds are fatal, and the substance is provided free of charge to those suffering from a terminal illness who have been interviewed by a Tender to ensure they have made the request with a clear mind and of their own free will.