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Fausta’s homeland has different naming conventions than the packs of Myrkur. Her first name, called her nomen, is her family name, while the two names following, called cognomina, are her occupation and chosen nickname, respectively.
Nomen: Fausta
Fausta’s family name. In her homeland, she was never referred to by it alone, but now, faced with a naming convention different to that of her homeland, she uses it as her sole ‘first name.’ From an adjective meaning auspicious or fortunate, it marks her as a member of gens Fausta.
Cognomen de occupatu: Auguria
A form of augurium altered to be feminine, denotes Fausta’s occupation as an augur. Now that she’s a Laeknir, she still refuses to change it, seeing augury as a closer calling to her heart.
Cognomen de voluntate: Laesia
Laesia is an altered version of ‘laesi’, meaning ‘I betrayed’ or ‘I wounded’. Fausta took this cognomen as a stigma to remind herself of her transgression.
Pack: Mangåta
Age: 2 years
Gender: Female
Pronouns: She/her
Species: Wolfdog
Height: 63.5cm / 25in
Weight: 52kg / 115lb
Mutations: Heterochromia
Seasonal God: Skadi
Rank: Laeknir
Specialty: General
Birthplace: Astavium
Rabbit Heart - Florence and the Machine
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Fausta is by no means athletic. Her chubby and slightly stocky build gives her a decent measure of strength and endurance, but her lack of distinct muscles reflects a life without much physical activity. Her tail is loosely curled in a way that reflects her dog heritage, and her cream and white fur is short but well-groomed and soft to the touch. Her markings are a mix of traditional wolf and dog patterns in very light blond colors, overlaid by ginger ticking that resembles freckles. Despite a fair amount of stress, Fausta still looks younger than she actually is, with a severe case of babyface compounded by a lack of scars or visible signs of age.
Fausta’s eyes are perhaps one of the most distinct things about her. Her round eyes are a startlingly vivid leaf green with gold at the center, almost resembling peacock feathers.
A small dark purple tattoo sits at the center of Fausta’s throat. Although the symbol is hard to recognize at first, it depicts a stylized vulture’s foot. Representing her commitment to prophesying only what her vulture familiar has revealed to her, it serves as an authentication of her government-verified augur status in the city of Astavium. While her other clothing can be easily stolen or faked, this tattoo is heavily regulated in her home city and impossible to get without a special certificate.
Fausta’s saffron and violet shawl. It’s made from one single strip of fabric and wrapped around her neck in a complicated loop. The color and pattern is distinctive to Astavian augurs and, in Fausta’s homeland, is called the lacerna trabea, literally meaning striped shawl.
A wooden bird mask Fausta usually keeps secured on her hip except when taking auspices. Its visage depicts no specific bird species, and is used - with colors and patterns varying - by all kinds of diviners from Astavium and surrounding regions. Fausta’s is painted in red-orange and purple, the color of diviners.
A contraption from Fausta’s homeland. It’s a blunted metal claw that straps onto one of her toes and fastens around the ankle. A series of rings at the top hold small bottles of ink, dye, or paint that are funneled down and through the claw tip, allowing her to write with ease. Its name is a shortened version of a word meaning ‘writer’s claw’.
There’s probably a name for this in every language. Nothing fancy, just a sturdy and waterproof traveling satchel. Fausta often keeps important books here.
A trusted dictionary Fausta is still too self-conscious to go without. It has a translation for many of the common words spoken in the ubiquitous language used outside her homeland and is extremely precious, since it was written manually by linguists from her homeland. Fausta protects it fiendishly.
A small book with images of every bird species known to Astavians and what god they pertain to. Fausta stole this copy from the augur’s library before leaving and feels only mildly guilty about it. It helps her remember a formidable array of birds and their symbolism since her training was cut short by her self imposed exile.
A small, leather bound book with no identifying marks on the cover. Inside is a collection of kind notes and letters Fausta’s parents wrote to her while she was in augury training, telling her how much they love her and how proud they are of her. Some of the notes were sent by messenger birds after Fausta ran away, but due to how far away Astavium is, these are rare. Fausta looks at these when she misses her parents.
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Saga is a serious but kind spirit taking the form of a cinereous vulture. She rarely tells Fausta information outright; instead, she gently guides her master to the correct answer in order to let her figure it out for herself.
She is more than aware that her existence is considered sacred to both Fausta and all Astavians, and harbors a small measure of guilt for propelling Fausta into the responsibilities of an augur at such a young age. To make up for this, Saga offers as much help to Fausta as she can – whether it’s a grounding presence, help practicing vocabulary in the common language, or simply a conversational partner.
Fausta staunchly believes that Saga is a messenger sent from the gods. Therefore, she treats Saga with the utmost respect and rarely refers to her by name, instead calling her “nuntia” - messenger. This usually informal title has shifted to an affectionate nickname between the two. While Saga has little idea of the will of the gods, as Fausta’s familiar she believes it is her responsibility to accompany Fausta on whatever journey she takes, physical or spiritual.
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Fausta comes from Astavium – a distant land whose name roughly translates to ‘city of the birds’. Surrounded by towering mountains on one flank and an open sea on another, with only small stretches of open grassland leading in and out, Astavium is isolated both geographically and socially. It is this solitude that led to the development of Astavium’s most notable feature – its cultural uniqueness.
Astavium has its own language with a complicated set of rules that differ greatly from the common language widely spoken in Myrkur. This language is known as ‘Aquilari’, after the Aquilan region where Astavium is located. Extensive linguistic studies comparing Aquilari to common language have determined that it is a highly specialized branch of ancient common, sharing altered versions of now-obsolete linguistic rules like gender, declensions, and conjugations. Fausta, and many other Astavians, speak this language as their native tongue. Learning to translate between Aquilari and common is a difficult task even for the dedicated scholar, but Fausta is determined to teach herself how to speak both fluently.
Since Astavium is an ancient society with lots of history, its technology is several tiers above Mangata’s or even Arelang’s. The artisans of the inner city have a wealth of knowledge on crafts such as bookbinding, specialized tool making, and even basic machinery. Fausta’s mascri and bound books are examples of such technology. The scholars of Astavium are famously skilled at such disciplines as mathematics, which help the city’s architects plan the aqueducts bringing water to the city, rudimentary zoology and botany, and even astronomy, explored in order to aid traditional techniques of astrological star divination. There’s even a currency system! This diversity and extent of knowledge can be difficult for emigrants to get used to living without. Vast libraries, made mandatorily accessible to everyone by ancient law, record all of this information and more at ready access.
Isolation and exclusivity has become an intrinsic part of Astavium’s culture. Most Astavians are born into the city, but a small percentage of foreigners immigrate each year. The process is complex to an irritating but necessary extent – Astavium’s ancient walls can only contain so many canines within. As a result, a separate movement blooms just outside of the city walls, where traditional Astavian culture and language mixes with common tradition and creates something distinct and new.
Fausta is from the city proper. Her childhood was spent in the traditional Astavian culture, described below.
Aquilari is a complicated language with a set of pronunciation and formation rules drastically different to the common shared language spoken in Myrkur and many other regions. These linguistic rules are quite similar to the principles of classical Latin.
For a guide on how to pronounce the classical Latin in Astavian names, read this.
The full formation rules will not be explained here due to lack of necessity, but you can always research them on your own. Translations will be provided for each time Aquilari is used.
In some respects, Astavian religion is not all that different from the religion practiced outside of it. They worship the same seasonal and primordial gods. However, it differs in one crucial aspect.
Astavians believe that all birds are inherently sacred, as they are messengers of the gods. They conceptualize all of the gods as birds: Tor is a vulture, Fenrir is a shrike, Bolverk was a crow, Vetr is an osprey, Idunn is a robin, Yngvi is a flamingo, and Skadi is a quail.
While the aforementioned seven birds are the most important, all species of birds are divided into groups based on which god they bring messages from. This categorization is usually based on location found – for example, all shorebirds are aligned with Vetr – behavior, coloration, or other distinguishing characteristics. Additional symbolism is found in the way the birds act when observed.
A list of bird symbolism by species and action can be found here.
Astavian religion prevents harm to any birds, even when desperate for food or other resources. This extends to bird familiars. Wearing feathers as clothing accessories is discouraged in traditional religion since it’s seen as putting yourself on the same level as the gods, but in the religion of the city’s outskirts, where superstition around good luck charms mingles with the sanctity of birds, wearing feather accessories is not only accepted but common.
Tattoos with significant personal or spiritual importance are also fairly common among Astavians. Made with bird quills and dyed ink, these tattoos usually show a commitment to the thing they represent or verify that it is truthful, like Fausta’s augury certification tattoo. Tattoos outside of this are looked down upon and considered strange.
Similarly, body paint representing the gods or scenes tying to their symbolism is present only in the city’s outskirts. This developed from the same good luck charm related beliefs as wearing feathers combined with the inexpensive nature of body paint.
Astavian religion is complex and exclusive. For many centuries, the highest form of worshiping the gods – offering them sacrifices – could only be done in the famous Templum Auspicii, the Temple of Augury. This means that the religion rarely survives unchanged outside of Astavium’s thick walls. Now that the Templum is destroyed, however, Astavian mythology is squarely within the talons of Astavium’s empress to manipulate and alter as she pleases. How the religion will be affected in the long term is yet to be seen.
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Fausta was born inside the walls of Astavium to a rich family - gens Fausta. As her parents’ only daughter, she was almost immediately beloved. She was a compassionate and curious child, always wanting to discover more about the world around her – especially the Astavian culture she was born into. Her father Gaius was the one to introduce her to her first passion: history.
Fausta went on frequent trips to the famous library near their estate and devoured any books she could find describing Astavium’s history, especially the culture heroes whose stories represented its values and ideals. She most looked up to the story of a woman named Perina, who saved a library’s worth of books from being burned down by a band of invaders. When Gaius and Fausta’s mother Aurelia realized how deeply their daughter believed in preserving and understanding the past, they knew they had to do something to nurture that desire - so they spoke to an old family friend named Dimidiata who they hoped would be willing to take Fausta as an apprentice.
Dimidiata Casminaria-Sertor was both a historian and a poet. While most famous for her scathing criticisms of the government, all written in poignant verse, much of her day was spent analyzing a plethora of historical texts in order to inspire and educate herself on her next poem’s topic. One of xyr most beloved areas of interest was religious history. Dimidiata taking Fausta as her apprentice set Fausta’s love for historical pursuits fully ablaze, and the two rapidly became close.
Fausta wasn’t coming of age in the kindest of times, however. The senatorial government of Astavium had been infamously corrupt for years and the gulf between the rich and poor classes of the city grew more blatant by the month. On her daily walks to Dimidiata’s study, Fausta passed more and more beggars lining the paved stone streets pleading with anyone and everyone to give them a job, or even some spare money. Her mentor’s poems grew more and more scathing and their audience grew angrier. It was only a matter of time before the tension erupted.
Despite the rising political turmoil in the background of her life, Fausta rarely had time to focus on it. Her studies with Dimidiata occupied much of her time, and she spent much of her free time reading even more. Her schedule only became more occupied when at a year old, Fausta first met her familiar, Saga – a cinereous vulture.
Vultures are an especially sacred bird to Astavian culture. After the government began to outlaw or smear all other methods of divination but augury, which vultures are most intertwined with, they also became the bird most vividly associated with government approved religious practice. Due to their association with death and the afterlife, vultures are considered messengers to all the gods, but most especially Tor, who the leadership of Astavium had aligned themselves with for centuries. Receiving a vulture as a familiar meant that one was blessed by the gods to have a close relationship with their greatest messenger. In other words - Fausta had been blessed with the power of divination. She was to become an augur.
In Astavium, augurs are high ranking religious officials who ostensibly divine the future by observing the behavior and species of birds. Their predictions are rarely wrong. To become an augur means not only the great status and salary one would expect, but also access to their exclusive and esoteric religious texts documenting their trade. There were only several augurs at any given time, meaning that the government – or really anyone with enough influence who wanted to anticipate what the future held for them – was in close contact with them at all times. In short, it was the opportunity many Astavians dream of.
Fausta and her family were no different. The celebrations were extravagant and overjoyed. Their sweet, beautiful daughter was being elevated to one of the highest positions in society she could hope for, and awakening a power all of them knew to respect. Dimidiata was the only one who seemed on edge. When Fausta asked xem what was wrong, she expressed her excitement, but also worry. After all, Dimidiata was nothing if not wary of those in power – and the insights gained from augury comprised a not insignificant portion of the government’s justifications for being in power. Xe was worried her apprentice would be manipulated into doing something awful and not know until it was too late.
Unfortunately, like many of Dimidiata’s predictions, this would come true.
Fausta transferred from her history apprenticeship to the augurs’ private temple, where her new superiors wasted no time in passing on their knowledge to her. Her free time dwindled to a sliver, she barely had time to spend with her friends and family, but she loved it. Every new book she read was something she’d never seen or even heard of before, containing a treasure trove of knowledge she was lucky enough to be one of the very few allowed to access. She learned the ins and outs of rituals the population spent their time only speculating about, the process to identify every species of bird she could dream of, and met a litany of government officials she’d previously only seen speaking from podiums.
Three months into her training, the pressure underlying Astavian politics erupted all at once. A coup led by a formerly minor general named Iubara turned the existing system on its head in a matter of months. First Iubara turned her contingent of wall guards against Astavium in a siege, then leading senators mysteriously began dying, and by the end of the spring she had taken sole power and declared herself empress. It was by the mercy of the gods that the exchange of power was largely nonviolent – with no standing army beyond law enforcement in the city itself, the inhabitants had no way to defend themselves and so the senate surrendered quickly. The augurs made it through unharmed after a brief but tense negotiation Fausta was uninvolved with. Her family and friends were all scared, but safe.
Around this time, Dimidiata stopped writing poems. Fausta went to her study to find it ransacked and abandoned. She assumed the now-infamous poet had fled the city somehow in order to escape violent punishment at the end of Iubara’s anger and moved onwards with her life.
It took six months for Fausta to finish her training and be promoted to a fully fledged augur. While it often took longer – a year, at the least – the uprising meant that her training had to be accelerated in order to ensure she had full knowledge of augury even in the worst case scenario. She passed her exams with flying colors and was quickly granted her lacerna trabea, divining mask, and throat tattoo.
Meanwhile, Iubara’s hold on the city grew tighter. The people were beginning to protest – many of the most underprivileged social classes had supported her rise to power and were now growing frustrated that she hadn’t done anything to help their situation. The previous government had had its problems, they said, but as evidenced by the augurs, the gods supported them. Iubara was acting in defiance of the gods’ will and must be overthrown.
One of Fausta’s fellow augurs, Lucius, had been poor before his ascension to augury. He was still sympathetic to the plight of the classes he had been born into. To illustrate their point and beg for change, Lucius – along with a small group of protestors – entered the Templum Auspicii and began to pray. They made a sacrifice and – following the now-outlawed divination method of haruspicy, to add additional defiance to their actions – studied the deer’s liver for clues on the gods’ will for Iubara. In little time, the group confidently declared that Iubara was destined to forsake the will of the gods and later be destroyed for her hubris. This verdict spread like wildfire.
Iubara swiftly became incensed at this threat to her power. Her rebuttal was to declare that the Templum had become a false representation of the gods and was corrupted; all divinatory judgements made within its walls were false. To save Astavium, it must be burned away like a rot. In order to give her claims more credibility, she elected to determine via augury done outside of the Templum whether her claims were true and it should be burned down.
The augur she elected for this task was Fausta.
Scared, confused, and feeling like a pawn in a scheme she didn’t understand, Fausta was led to the top of Astavium’s walls. The outer communities – many of which she had never seen before – were sprawled out in front of her in a vivid tapestry. In a shaky voice, she began the ritual by declaring her intentions and pleading with the gods for a message. Her judgement would determine whether the temple both her society and former mentor had loved would burn or survive.
Then she waited.
For several minutes there was nothing – the skies were still, and no bird flew. And then she spotted something in the distance.
A crow, closely followed by a vulture, was flying towards them. As the group watched in shock, the vulture dove, dug its talons into the crow, and killed it after a brief fight. Fausta froze. There was no clearer way to interpret this omen. The temple would burn.
Iubara was ecstatic. First she arrested Lucius and several of the protestors that had been at the ritual with him, then she tied them up inside the temple. The prisoners – and Fausta – could only watch in horror as Iubara’s contingent of guards piled the ancient chamber high with kindling. Then they set it all ablaze.
The prisoners were resolute – they didn’t scream or beg for mercy. Fausta watched, frozen, as the flames rose higher, and then the smell of burnt flesh filled the air.
The temple burned for hours. Whenever the fire was close to burning out, the guards and Iubara added more fuel, until it was reduced to rubble and ashes that had once been people. Fausta and the augurs had been forced to watch the display; perhaps Iubara believed that it would discourage them from rebelling in the same way as Lucius.
Fausta went home and cried. With one verdict, she had set something horrible in motion that she would never be able to stop. She had forsaken the gods and allowed Iubara to burn their place of greatest honor. She couldn’t help but remember her favorite childhood story of Perina, and realized with a sick clarity that she had fancied herself Perina and instead been the invaders all of this time.
A week later she gathered up as much supplies as she could, left her parents a note explaining everything, and ran away from home. She hoped to return someday – but first she needed to atone. One of the greatest punishments Astavians could face, worse than the death penalty, was exile. There was no guarantee that the voices of the gods could reach you outside Astavium. You would spend the rest of your life wandering, cut off from a religion you would no longer be able to practice.
It was the only way Fausta could think of to pay for her sins.
In the outskirts of the city her satchel was almost stolen, and she quickly realized she needed a bodyguard. With little survival skills to speak of, it was evident she wouldn’t last alone either in the city or in the wilderness. When she asked all the guards for hire she could find whether they would accompany her on an indefinite journey through the wilderness, most of them looked at her like she was insane. Their reactions only worsened when she confessed she could think of no adequate payment – despite her wealth, there was no guarantee they’d ever return to Astavium, and outside of the city walls Astavian money was all but worthless.
After several hours of searching, though, she finally found someone who agreed: Zephyri.
It was perhaps one of the luckiest things that had ever happened to Fausta. She was separating herself from the only family and home she’d ever known without knowing when or if she would ever return. She still hadn’t made her peace with the fact that she might never see her parents’ faces again or hear them call her their little girl. But forwards and away, she thought, was the only way she could go.
The two journeyed for several months before making it to Mangata. Along the way Fausta encountered more cultures than she could ever have dreamed of existing, and honed her skills with the common language until she was halfway fluent. Were she an explorer, it would have been the most exciting time of her life – but Fausta was just an exile, and even amid all the discovery she never stopped dreaming of home.