The Garden of Knowledge

The Turami

Excerpt from "On Fallen Races" by Volothamp Geddarn

Turami culture is rich, but it can be fairly accurately described as all history and no future. As a people, the Turami are a diaspora, and their culture, calcified and tradition-bound, reflects that dispossession. Musicians and artists still ply their trade, though they are viewed with a very low opinion by most Turami, but the only new art is extremely derivative, little more than copies of traditional forms rearranged without reinvention. While the Turami population has currently reached the point where they are a fairly common human subgroup in the Vilhon Wilds, they have no permanent territories or central government. Some are nomadic and some merely inhabit the lands of other peoples, but they all readily adopt the culture of their immediate environs while secretively hoarding their traditions and values as taught for centuries. For instance, the clothing which they wear for sleeping and private ceremonies is archaic, bearing peculiar elements of style (e.g., tight hoods and unusually long sleeves) which appear to have been designed for a somewhat cold environment. Many Turami in locations for which such clothing is wildly inappropriate to their current climate still adhere to this tradition. The histories that are the source of their traditions (known as "Mopti" in their private tongue never spoken in front of "ohalki", or non-Turami) have been passed down orally with great precision, such that the exact words have achieved the cachet of scripture, and the ability to memorize and recite them flawlessly can raise an individual to an esteemed class equivalent to that of the priesthood.

However, one of the most fundamental tenets of Turami culture is an implicit but firm antipathy for the pantheon of Toril. While recognizing the power and influence of all the gods, and while making the necessary genuflections to whatever clerical authority might exist in their immediate environs, Turami culture shuns actual worship of any divinity. The precise reason for this religious rejection is surprisingly absent from the Mopti, but it is heavily suggested that a vast betrayal perpetrated by one or more of their erstwhile gods is directly responsible for the current comparatively pitiable state of their people.

While the Mopti is framed as a series of thematically related stories, a chronology is impossible to derive from them. In fact, looking for a linear timeline within the Mopti as if it were a list of historical events fundamentally misunderstands the Mopti's purpose. Although not classical examples of mythical or fabulistic archetypes, the characters and events in the Mopti are deployed according to metaphorical purpose. For instance, there is a tripartite character whose presence always follows a specific narrative arc. Known initially as Tysilio, he or she (the gender always reflects that of the person reciting it) is then depicted as Mactilio when inhabiting a tragic role, either as victim or betrayer, and further depicted as Gogogoch when engaged in despairing self-destruction. These characters are less actual, individual personalities than they are functions that illustrate certain inevitabilities that embody the truth of the Turami experience. By way of analogy, this functions much as how one would describe the square of prime numbers as 1, 4, and 9. They are relayed in such a manner, not because their actual value is important, but because they describe a process and illustrate a specific relationship that can be applied more globally.

Similarly, locations provide a setting which act as another element to determine the thrust of the story. For instance, depending on what characters arrive there and at what stage of a given story it appears, the Umyatin Rift can presage inevitable but hidden doom, represent a worthy but dangerous goal, establish a vast but hollow triumph, or (only when seen at the end of a story) suggest absolute destruction sparing none but a few. In contrast, a meal shared at an obsidian table, whenever it is mentioned, only ever means the death of love. The particulars may change depending on the characters involved (e.g., the twins Oponn always share a meal at an obsidian table before their rivalry leads to murder, while the Council of Reeds meets upon a vast obsidian-topped mesa before they agree to invoke the ritual that floods their land to deny it to the implacable invaders), but the underlying meaning is always singular.

In addition to these narrative elements, the Mopti operates as something of an etiquette guide. Its characters invariably display what is considered proper etiquette. Ironically, this behavior does not affect negative outcomes, nor does it effect positive ones. For example, much of the first portion of The Oba and The Pure One at the Seat of Melos is a dialogue. When the Oba approaches the red side of the Seat of Melos, she covers her mouth before saying to the Pure One, "The strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must." The Pure One, crouching behind the green side, covers his own mouth before replying, "The shame of both weakness and strength is the inability to perceive one in the other." Whether the Oba goes on to castrate the Pure One (if an adult is telling the story) or the Pure One crushes the skull of the Oba (if a child is telling the story), either way, the proper forms for meeting a stranger are followed. It has been speculated that, like filigree included to enhance otherwise unadorned clothing, these behaviors are a more recent addition, effectively tacked on as a way of lending the imprimatur of the Mopti to certain preferred behaviors. However, given the peculiarly rigid uniformity of the Mopti as it exists among Turami now, and the insistence of the Turami that the Mopti has never been written down (a claim supported by the lack of even fragments of Turami writing), it is impossible to adequately trace any potential changes.

The only real evidence of any historical precursor of the Turami has been found in ancient colonial sites of the Imaskari Empire. As is commonly known, the Imaskari Empire is the oldest human society of which there are any remaining primary records. Potsherds found on submerged ruins of the Imaskari colonies were found to bear images of immense human figures towering over much smaller figures making obeisance. The larger figures, bedecked in jewelry and implements suggestive of power or authority, appeared to be clad in clothing reminiscent of Turami classical costume. Historical consensus is that the Imaskari Empire was destroyed by internal pressures, resulting in the factionalization of their territories, some of the political descendants of whom would eventually become the Ten Nations of modern Kara-Tur. These potsherds have raised the popular though unsubstantiated idea that the Imaskari Empire was ultimately ruled by Turami tyrants who were overthrown by their subjects, creating the political vacuum that ultimately resulted in the destruction of the Empire.