Causan - Human Ethnicity
“The old man traced a line in the dust with his thumb, pausing at each curve. His voice, cracked and slow, wove the breathline as if it were stitched into the wind itself. Around him, the fire cracked, and the listeners leaned in—not from fear, but from the weight of what might be forgotten if left unspoken.”
“‘We are not born from stone, nor raised in the quiet of unbent trees,’ he said. ‘We are the people of the voice, of the oath, of the breath. We carry the law in our blood, and the memory in our bones. When the salt crusts your lips and the dust blinds your eyes, remember this: a Causan does not forget. A Causan speaks.’”
“Later, I asked him if the law was written somewhere, in a book or on a stone. He laughed. ‘The law?’ he said. ‘It lives here.’ And he tapped his chest, then his tongue.”
Introduction
The Causan peoples of Arora are a tapestry woven from dust, salt, and memory—traders, warriors, judges, and singers who trace their lineage through words rather than blood alone. From the market alleys of Flybatia to the salt-whipped coasts of Cogru, from the whispering dunes of Dhagari to the lush riverine courts of Rashara, they speak a common tongue: the law is breath, and breath is life.
No single realm holds Causan Humans alone. They thrive in the heartlands of Dhagari and Rashara, where the Taro Pantheon’s light burns bright, yet they also flourish in the diaspora: carving their names into the markets of Cogru, standing as traders and diplomats among the Varlimni, blending tongues and skin in the mingled enclaves of the east. Their complexion shifts with the sun’s grace—fairer in Flybatia, darker in the salt-soaked courts of Cogru, their features always bearing the stamp of endurance: keen eyes, calloused hands, and a gaze that seems to measure worth with every glance.
Causan Humans are a people of the spoken word. Laws are not inscribed in books, but recited beneath the stars and carried on the breathlines that weave through generations. Each clan has its own reciters, its Law-Speakers, who remember the oaths of ancestors and shape the disputes of the present. Theirs is a world where memory is not static, but an active force—binding, shaping, enforcing. To break an oath is to fracture the web of trust that holds their communities together. To speak falsely in the presence of a Law-Speaker is to invite ruin.
Yet Causan Humans are no static people. They build, they adapt, they blend with those they encounter, whether Kathuri wanderers of the dunes, Akran herders of the plains, or Varlimni traders of the rivers. Their faiths entwine with the Taro Pantheon, but always through the lens of oaths and contracts: Pandera, the Keeper of Wind, is honoured in every salt-threaded prayer. Fire and salt are sacred to them, not as mere elements, but as witnesses—binding spirits to truth and marking time itself.
To outsiders, Causan Humans can seem contradictory: at once rigid and fluid, fiercely traditional yet quick to seize a new market or forge an alliance. They are a people who guard their words like blades, yet trade them freely across deserts and seas. A people who revere law, yet twist it to their advantage. To understand Causan Humans is to understand that the law is not a book, but a living breath—and that to breathe is to remember, to bind, and to endure.
“Look at them—cloaks of dust, threads of silver, hair coiled like rivers. They walk as if the earth itself owes them space, and when they speak, it’s as if the wind bends to listen. They dress in the colours of trade and tide, their hands heavy with story-knots and law-marks. You think you know them because they smile in the market, but wait until the fire is lit and the salt is passed. That is when you’ll see the steel beneath.”
Appearance and Lifestyle
To see a Causan is to glimpse the fusion of earth and breath, dust and dignity. Their features are bold and striking: high cheekbones, angular jaws, full brows, and eyes as dark as obsidian or as bright as polished amber. Their skin carries the gradient of the sun’s embrace—pale olive in the windswept ports of Flybatia, bronze and umber in the market cities of Rashara, deep russet in the salt-scorched lands of Cogru. Hair flows in varied textures: tight coils and spirals in the southern deserts, loose waves along the riverine borders, sleek and straight in the northern highlands. It is often braided, wrapped, or adorned with beads, pins, and woven cords that speak of lineage, alliances, and victories.
Causan Humans mark themselves in ways that speak before words. Oath-marks inked along the forearm, salt-thread knots tied into hair or belts, calloused hands from labour or swordplay. Jewellery is common, but never idle: silver rings scored with breathline glyphs, copper bangles that chime in debate, bone amulets worn in memory of an honoured ancestor or a binding vow. Their movement is measured, poised; even in rest, there is a watchfulness, as if each gesture is a fragment of a larger dance.
Yet this is not a people of rigid uniformity. Across their wide-ranging homelands, Causan lifestyles reflect both adaptability and deep-rooted custom. In Dhagari, the desert towns hum with traders, herders, and salt-harvesters, where nights ring with story-chants and days are spent beneath woven shade. In Flybatia, merchants in layered robes oversee bustling markets where spices and silks flow in from distant ports, their homes marked by domed roofs and latticed windows. Along the Rasharan rivers, farmers and fishers blend Causan pragmatism with Varlimni ritual, while in Cogru’s border districts, Causans run forge-shops and caravanserais, adapting to the coastal rhythms of tide and trade. Even in the diaspora, Causans carry the imprint of their heritage: from the salt worn on the tongue at dawn, to the legal riddles exchanged over shared meals.
Causans display striking diversity in appearance across their homelands. Skin tones shift from pale olive in Flybatia, where the sun’s gaze is gentler, to deep umber in the salt-soaked ports of Cogru. Hair textures vary by lineage and region: tightly coiled in the deserts, looser waves along rivers, or sleek in highland enclaves. Their builds range from lean and wiry in nomadic clans to broader and stronger in settled merchant families. Faces tend to be sharply featured, with expressive eyes that often seem to weigh and judge in a single glance. A Causan’s bearing is often proud, shoulders back, head held high, every step as if marking a path in the sand.
Marking the body is an act of memory and status. Oath-marks—small lines or dots inked on the skin—record key moments: the sealing of a contract, the settling of a blood debt, the completion of a pilgrimage. Knotted threads are woven into hair or worn around wrists and belts: each knot carries a meaning, often known only to the wearer’s clan. Silver jewellery is the most common ornament, engraved with breathlines or clan glyphs, while bone and copper pieces signify deeper, often more personal, bonds. Scarification is rare but present among certain Cogru and Rashara clans, where raised patterns on the arms or chest indicate trials endured or law upheld.
Causan clothing shifts with climate and class, but always holds meaning. In Flybatia, merchants favour lightweight robes dyed in indigo and ochre, layered and belted with embroidered sashes. Rashara clans wear long desert wraps, often in earth tones, their belts heavy with pouches and tools, while in Cogru, the style blends coastal influences: linen tunics, beadwork, and copper-threaded cuffs. Turbans and headscarves are common across Dhagari and Rashara, not only for protection but as markers of clan and status. Knot-threaded cords, known as breathlines, are often worn as necklaces, anklets, or even woven into sandals—each one a silent testament to a promise made, a deal struck, or a life event honoured.
Causans build where the land permits, and the shape of their settlements mirrors their needs. Dhagari towns cluster around water sources, with mudbrick homes clustered in haphazard circles and shaded markets at their core. In Flybatia, port cities sprawl across coastal cliffs, their streets lined with merchant houses bearing coloured awnings and intricate stone latticework. Rashara’s oases host palm-shaded courts and reed-roofed stalls, while Cogru’s Causan districts rise in layered terraces overlooking the salt-rimmed harbours. Varlimni enclaves feature hybrid architecture: sandstone homes with Varlimni-style carvings, narrow streets perfumed by spice-sellers, and open-air legal forums where disputes are settled by firelight. Each space—be it market, courtyard, or shrine—holds its own memory, its own law.
Though bound by shared law and memory, Causans are not uniform. In Flybatia, skin tends lighter, accents flow with melodic intonation, and law is often spoken in the dialect of traders. In Rashara, the desert’s hardships breed a more austere culture, where breathlines are shorter and scars more visible. Cogru Causans blend their traditions with the sea: darker skin, salt-hardened hands, and a pragmatic approach to law that bends but does not break. Diaspora communities among the Varlimni show even greater fusion, adopting silken fabrics, elaborate festivals, and more fluid gender roles—yet still they tie their knots, speak their oaths, and trace their breathlines when the fires are lit.
Life for a Causan is a weave of survival, duty, and memory. Days begin with the salt-bite ritual: a grain placed on the tongue to remind of the sea and the bond. Markets hum with traders’ cries, while Law-Speakers settle disputes in shaded forums. Children learn to speak the oaths before they write their names; apprentices learn both craft and clan memory. Meals are shared communally: flatbreads, spiced meats, lentil stews, and sweet date pastes eaten from shared platters. Evenings ring with story-chants, drumming, and the soft thrum of breathline recitations, binding past and present. Whether as warriors, traders, herders, or weavers, each Causan lives as part of a greater story—and they know the cost of forgetting.
The Causan table is a testament to trade and tradition. Grains, lentils, and chickpeas form the base; spiced lamb or goat often feature, along with roasted vegetables, dates, and nuts. In coastal areas, fish stews flavoured with cumin and coriander are common, while desert regions favour preserved meats and dried fruits. Flatbreads are ubiquitous, used as both utensil and offering. Meals are often communal, eaten from large platters while breathlines or legal tales are recited. Salt is sacred, placed at the centre of the meal; the first and last bite must pass through it. Sweetened teas infused with mint or cardamom are favoured, while fermented drinks like kashra (a honey-wine) mark special occasions.
“Ask a Causan why they bow to flame, why they weave salt into their songs, why they trace lines in the sand with their fingers as they speak. They will not answer directly. They will tell you a story, or ask you a riddle, or offer you salt in a clay dish. And if you sit long enough, if you listen between the words, you may come to understand that for Causan Humans, faith is not a creed to recite, but a breath to hold, an oath to keep, and a memory to pass forward, always forward.”
Beliefs and Values
Causan Humans are a people of words before gods, of laws before altars. To them, belief is not submission to a higher power, but an intricate web of duty, memory, and voice. The Sky-Fire Creed holds sway in many Causan communities, venerating fire as the breath of the gods and the final purifier of oaths. Yet even here, Causan Humans filter faith through the lens of contract and breathline. They honour the gods, yes—but they speak of the gods as witnesses to oaths, not as masters to be blindly obeyed.
A Causan's moral world is shaped by the breathline: an unbroken chain of spoken memory linking generations. Law-Speakers are not merely judges, but living repositories of oral contracts, kinship ties, and historic debts. Each word has weight; each oath carries consequence. To break a promise is to rupture the breathline, a transgression seen as both personal failing and communal wound.
Fire is both a tool and a testament. Flames light the breathline recitations, burn away falsehoods in disputes, and consume offerings at birth, marriage, and death. Salt is a binding element, used in rites of sealing, and shared at meals as a sign of trust. To be denied salt is to be cast from the circle of kin. To share salt is to acknowledge mutual duty.
Yet Causan Humans are not rigid. Their pragmatism allows for adaptation: where a desert clan might view the gods as spirits of the wind and sun, a riverine trader may see them as ancestors dwelling in the tide. Among the Varlimni-influenced Causans, beliefs shift further still—incorporating floral rites, intricate story-feasts, and visions sought through inhaled smoke. What binds them all is the breathline: an unbroken current of spoken truth, anchored in law, carried by memory.
Beauty for Causan Humans lies in the eloquence of the spoken word, the clarity of intent, and the strength of one’s oaths. A finely woven robe may be admired, but a clever tongue and a memory sharp enough to recall ten generations of breathline will earn true respect. Physical beauty is secondary to bearing: a person who carries themselves with dignity, who speaks their promises cleanly and keeps them, is considered radiant, regardless of appearance. Family is sacred, not as a bloodline alone, but as a network of oaths and shared debts. Marriage is less a romantic bond than a contract of kinship, woven with ritual words, salt offerings, and the light of fire.
Gender among Causan Humans is viewed through the prism of role and responsibility rather than strict binary. While many clans expect men to speak in public forums and women to maintain the breathline in private, these roles shift fluidly depending on circumstance. In Cogru and among Varlimni-influenced Causans, gender expression is often more fluid: individuals may adopt male, female, or third-gender presentation depending on clan traditions and personal merit. What matters is not appearance, but the capacity to hold and transmit memory, honour oaths, and uphold communal duty.
Marriage in Causan culture is a binding of oaths, not merely hearts. A wedding is a legal and spiritual contract, sealed with salt, flame, and the recitation of breathlines. Vows are often witnessed by the Law-Speaker of the clan, who records the union into the oral memory of the community. Polygamy is rare but accepted in some regions, especially where alliances strengthen trade networks. Among Varlimni-adjacent communities, marriages may involve complex rituals blending floral offerings, song, and inked patterns drawn on skin.
Pairings outside the Causan lineage are permitted but treated cautiously: such unions are often accompanied by elaborate oath-weaving ceremonies to bind the outsider into the breathline.
A Causan's life is marked by rites of passage that bind them into the community. The Salt-Tongue Rite, performed at the age of seven, teaches a child to recite the breathline of their family. The Oath-Fire, taken in adolescence, marks readiness to bear witness and responsibility, often involving a trial of memory, endurance, or negotiation. Adulthood is formally recognised only after successfully upholding an oath in public, usually before a Law-Speaker. In Varlimni-influenced regions, flower-garlands and ash markings are woven into these rites, symbolising growth and transformation.
Death is not an end, but a transition into the breathline. The body is burned, the ashes mixed with salt and scattered across a sacred site: a river, a dune, a market threshold. The Law-Speaker leads a final recitation of the departed's breathline, sealing their memory into the clan's oral record. Forgetting the breathline of the dead is seen as a grave shame, and families will go to great lengths to preserve and pass down the names, deeds, and oaths of their ancestors.
Causan society values loyalty, memory, and eloquence. Speaking falsely, breaking an oath, or attempting to erase part of the breathline is the gravest of sins, punishable by exile or, in rare cases, ritual forgetting—a public act where the Law-Speaker declares a person unbound by breathline, effectively erasing them from the community’s memory. Hospitality is sacred: to offer salt and fire to a guest is to bind them, for a time, to your protection. To refuse this offering is a declaration of enmity.
Yet Causan Humans are also pragmatists. Trade, survival, and kinship can bend law when necessity demands. A skilled negotiator is admired, not despised, and finding a clever interpretation of an old breathline can elevate a family’s status.
“They say Causan Humans do not write. That is a lie told by those who have never sat by their fires. Their scripts are spoken, yes, but listen closely: each word is carved into memory, each knot in a belt is a verse, each silver ring is a paragraph of law. Their markets are archives; their stories, libraries. You just have to know where to look.”
Culture and Expression
The culture of Causan Humans is not static; it is a flowing river of trade, story, and negotiation. They are a people of voice and symbol, who see knowledge not as something to hoard in dusty tomes, but as something to breathe, to speak, to carry forward in the body. Memory is not merely recollection—it is performance, duty, and power. In Causan markets, songs are traded alongside spices, and a well-told story can buy as much favour as a pouch of silver.
Art, music, and law intertwine in Causan society. A breathline chant is both a legal record and a form of poetry. A woven tapestry tells the history of a clan’s oaths, while a silver bangle, etched with breathline glyphs, declares a trader’s creditworthiness. Debate is a cultural art form, with public recitations and legal riddles drawing crowds in the shaded market courts. Even in the diaspora, Causans carry their culture with them: whether in the patterned scarves worn by Cogru traders or the salt-offerings left at Varlimni shrines, their traditions ripple outward, adapting yet enduring.
Causan Humans speak a variety of dialects, all descended from the root language of Causic. Dhagari traders favour a clipped, formal tongue suited to legal argument; Rashara’s river-clans speak with fluid, almost sing-song intonation; Cogru Causans blend coastal inflections into their speech, with loanwords from Varlimni tongues. Breathline recitation maintains a rigid, almost sacred cadence, distinct from daily conversation. Written records are rare, but when they exist, they use a simplified Causic script: an elegant, looping form primarily reserved for trade tokens, breathline glyphs, and salt-knot instructions. Among Varlimni-influenced Causans, language often weaves in floral metaphors and poetic allusions.
Causan art is a tapestry of form and function. Woven textiles, dyed in indigo, saffron, and ochre, tell stories in abstract patterns known as thread-marks. Jewellery is inscribed with breathline fragments—silver cuffs bearing legal pledges, or bone pendants etched with ancestral glyphs. Music flows from the salt-drum, a clay-bodied instrument played in layered rhythms, accompanied by clapping, chanted call-and-response, and the soft rattle of shell bracelets. Dance is often subtle, performed with hands and shoulders, weaving stories of trade journeys, oaths fulfilled, and ancestors remembered. In Cogru, Causan musicians blend their traditions with Varlimni stringed instruments and layered floral offerings in dance ceremonies.
Causan myths are not fixed stories, but living breathlines that evolve with each generation. Tales of the Law-Givers, the first salt-binders who tamed the desert winds, blend with local histories and trade lore. In Dhagari, the myth of Salazir the Silver-Tongued, who bound the sandstorm’s fury with a single word, is recited at salt-harvest festivals. In Cogru, stories speak of the Sea-Walker, a Causan who crossed the waves by trading names with a Rhysar in a storm. Varlimni-influenced Causans tell tales of the Flower of Fire, a spirit that blooms in the heart of a forge and grants vision to those who dare to touch its petals. Each tale is part lesson, part contract, part song—a binding of past to present.
While Causan Humans do not venerate saints in the formal sense, certain figures echo through the breathlines as exemplars of honour, wisdom, or cunning. Zahira of the Thousand Knots, a Dhagari Law-Speaker who negotiated peace between warring clans by tying a breathline into a single continuous thread, is one such figure. Harun Salt-Born, a Cogru mariner who founded a trade guild by weaving Causan breathlines into Varlimni flower-rites, is honoured in coastal markets. Rassan the Bright-Eyed, a Law-Speaker turned exile, is remembered for surviving a salt-forgetting trial and founding a new clan in the shadow of a Rhysar-claimed canyon. These figures are remembered not as saints, but as proofs that memory, oath, and breath endure.
Causan history is a web of migration, trade, and negotiation. Their earliest roots trace to the salt-plains of Dhagari, where nomadic clans first wove breathlines and built kinship around shared oaths. From there, they spread along the salt-roads to Flybatia’s ports, merging with traders and sailors, then eastward into Rashara’s riverlands and Cogru’s coastal markets. Diaspora communities flourished in Varlimni cities, where Causans learned new tongues, absorbed rituals, and blended law with song. Conflicts with desert-dwelling Kathuri shaped border politics, while entanglements with Akran and Ralian powers led to both alliances and betrayals. Through it all, the breathline endured, evolving but unbroken—a living testament to the resilience of memory and word.
“To a Causan, a name is not a label but a promise. It is the breath you take when you stand before the fire, the word that binds you to your kin, and the salt that seals your place in the world. To speak a name is to call forth the weight of every oath ever uttered in its keeping.”
Naming and Lineage
Causan names are more than mere identifiers; they are declarations of intent and vessels of memory. Every name holds a story, a debt, or a promise—sometimes all three. The breathline system governs the naming process, intertwining a child’s identity with the oaths and histories of their ancestors. A child’s given name is often chosen by the Law-Speaker or family elder, based on a vision, a moment of birth, or a spoken vow witnessed during labour. Names may reference natural elements (salt, flame, wind), virtues (steadfast, sharp, enduring), or ancestral deeds.]
Names are not static. They may evolve as a person’s breathline expands—an adolescent might take a new name upon proving their oath-keeping in the Salt-Tongue Rite, and an adult may earn honorifics or modifiers after significant deeds. To lose a name, or to be declared un-named, is a punishment of great shame—an exile not of the body, but of the self from memory.]
Causan names follow a layered structure. A typical full name includes a personal name (given at birth or at a rite), a lineage identifier (often the breathline’s root name), and, in formal contexts, a trade or deed-title earned through action. For example, Amin Salt-Bearer of the Breathline Sael indicates Amin’s given name, their trade-deed as a salt-caravan leader, and their belonging to the Sael breathline. In Cogru, names may incorporate Varlimni floral elements, such as Yara Ashflower or Rasen Dawnpetal, reflecting blended traditions.]
Honorifics like Salt-Born, Flame-Touched, or Word-Keeper are earned through acts that serve the community, particularly in law, trade, or negotiation. These titles carry weight and are often spoken in formal settings or ceremonies.]
Kinship among the Causans is both a biological and a legal bond. Breathlines are the backbone of identity: a spoken record of familial and legal ties, oaths made and kept across generations. While descent is often patrilineal in Dhagari and Rashara, maternal breathlines are common in Cogru, and many coastal clans trace their lineage through matrilineal lines due to Varlimni influence.]
Adoption into a breathline is possible, usually through a formal oath witnessed by a Law-Speaker, salt offerings, and a shared recitation of the breathline’s key events. Such adoptions are binding and irrevocable unless the breathline itself is severed.]
Causan family units are typically multi-generational, with elders holding both respect and authority as keepers of memory. Even in the diaspora, breathline gatherings are sacred occasions, where names are spoken, debts are settled, and oaths are renewed by fire and salt.]
- Amin, Male, "Faithful, steadfast in oath," a common given name in Dhagari clans.
- Zahira, Female, "Bright, eloquent," often given to daughters born during harvest rites.
- Rashan, Male, "Flame-born," used in coastal Cogru for children born near festival fires.
- Kirael, Gender-neutral, "Salt-bonded," popular in merchant families with ties to multiple breathlines.
- Yara, Female, "Flower of dawn," common among Cogru Causans influenced by Varlimni naming customs.
- Daelun, Male, "Wind-walker," given to children born during storms or long caravan journeys.
- Ashari, Gender-neutral, "Keeper of the breathline," often bestowed upon those who show early aptitude for Law-Speaking.
- Samir, Male, "Joyful, radiant," an auspicious name often chosen for firstborn sons.
Additional context: Breathline names may shift over time. A child born as Yara may become Yara Salt-Binder after proving herself in trade, or Yara Ashflower when honoured in a Varlimni-Causan fusion rite. Such changes are formalised in public recitations, witnessed by kin, Law-Speakers, and, when possible, by the flames of the communal hearth.]
“The salt flows east, the breathlines flow west, and the Causans walk the line between. You will find them at the borders: between desert and river, between trade and war, between faith and profit. They are the sand beneath your boot and the whisper in your ledger. Wherever the wind blows, a Causan will have already measured its price.”
Geography and Demographics
The Causan people are not confined to a single land. They stretch across the breadth of Erothi, from the sun-bleached plains of Dhagari to the fertile rivers of Rashara, from the high-walled markets of Flybatia to the coastal alleys of Cogru. Each region has shaped them in turn, creating a cultural mosaic bound together by the breathline’s unbroken thread.]
Wherever they dwell, the Causans are both insiders and outsiders—integral to the economies and cultures they touch, yet often marked by their own ways. They are traders, scribes, salt-binders, and oathsmen. In some lands, they are welcomed as essential; in others, they are regarded with suspicion, their eloquence seen as a veil for cunning, their breathlines as a form of quiet resistance.]
Yet across all regions, a common thread endures: the salt bowl on the table, the fire kept burning at the threshold, the whispered names of ancestors beneath the stars. The breathline, unbroken.]
In Dhagari, the Causans are the heart of the salt trade, their caravans winding across the dunes, their market courts filled with debate and barter. The cities of Dhagari—particularly Efras and Dalhiz—are known for their Law-Speakers’ halls, where breathlines are recited and disputes settled before fire altars. Here, Causan culture is at its most formal: oaths are weighed like silver, and every word has a price. The desert winds shape their lives, and the memory of ancient salt-binders is preserved in both story and statute.]
Yet Dhagari Causans are also wary—surrounded by rival powers, they know the cost of misplaced trust, and their Law-Speakers hold tight to breathline secrets like coins in a clenched fist.]
Flybatia’s port cities are bustling crossroads where Causans mingle with sailors, scholars, and pilgrims from across the Medu Sea. Here, the Causans are lighter of skin and more cosmopolitan, fluent in multiple tongues, and adept at navigating imperial courts. They serve as scribes, interpreters, and brokers, but their breathlines remain—though often hidden behind polished smiles and clipped speech.]
In Flybatia, Causans face both opportunity and prejudice: they are valued for their trade acumen, yet distrusted for their perceived loyalty to family over crown. Still, they endure, their salt rings gleaming beneath silk cuffs, their voices steady in the markets and law courts.]
In Rashara, Causans live along riverbanks and floodplains, where their breathlines intertwine with the pulse of water. They are farmers, fishers, and traders, their songs blending with the rush of the river, their oaths sealed with mud and flame. Here, the Law-Speaker’s authority is less rigid, and community councils often govern local matters, yet breathlines still define trust and trade.]
Causans in Rashara are darker of skin, marked by the sun and the river’s humidity, and their speech is melodic, their songs woven into labour and ritual alike. They are seen by outsiders as both hospitable and shrewd—generous with salt and food, but quick to remember debts.]
Cogru’s coastal cities and market islands hold a distinct flavour of Causan life, shaped by generations of mingling with the Varlimni. Here, floral metaphors bloom alongside breathline chants, and Causan traders wear garlands alongside salt bands. Their skin is darker, their features shaped by coastal winds and Varlimni lineage. They are shipwrights, spice-brokers, and navigators, known for their intricate trade networks that link east and west.]
Causans in Cogru are sometimes viewed with suspicion by inland communities, accused of adopting foreign ways or softening their oaths in the pursuit of profit. Yet within the coastal enclaves, they thrive—singing their breathlines at tide-chants, marking deals with flower-ash ink, and sealing pacts beneath both moonlight and flame.]
Beyond their homelands, the Causan diaspora is wide. In Varlimni cities, they serve as legal scholars, herbalists, and traders of rare goods. Their breathlines often mingle with Varlimni poetic forms, creating hybrid chants that echo across marketplaces. In Carthian courts, they are employed as negotiators, though often treated with a mixture of awe and caution, as if their eloquence is a spell in itself.]
Causans abroad often face mistrust, accused of favouring family over state, of placing breathlines above civic law. Yet even in exile or marginalisation, they carry their names, their salt, and their fire—silent testimonies to a heritage that endures.]
“They are a people of salt, fire, and word. To trade with them is to enter a contract you may never fully understand. To cross them is to be remembered in ways you will not like. They are not easily forgotten—nor do they forget.”
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