The Boreni lands extend from the westernmost coast of the island-continent Boreni to the Great River in the eastern-central part of the island, which officially marks the boundary between Boreni and the Dwarven Kingdom in the far east. Much of the continent, and in particular the heart of the island, is covered by desert; the southeastern and southwestern portions are the only ones with a mild climate and moderately arable land. Along the northern coast stretches tropical rainforests and grasslands, interspersed with or giving way to desert. Generally speaking, the climate is remarkable for its extremes: monsoons in the tropical north during the summer, but very little rain in other areas, leading to long droughts; cyclones coming off the bordering oceans; intense heat leading to bushfires or dust storms; and frosts in the wintertime.
It is precisely this harshness and variability of landscape that has both shaped traditional Boreni culture and kept the native families safe from would-be conquerors. (One of the earliest explorers of Boreni, a Xheng by the name of Chang Tseng Lin, is said to have remarked, “The very notion of establishing a settlement here is to be regarded—put kindly—as chimerical.”) Having established and then maintained peace with their sole neighbors, the dwarves, for centuries, the Boreni have had little to worry about in terms of outside influence.
Politically speaking, the Boreni have set up very little by way of formal government or infrastructure. There exist no cities or towns throughout the whole of Boreni, and the only location that cartographers have ever seen fit to include on a map is Cenbarra, the ancient ceremonial grounds for the annual “coming-together” of the whole Boreni people. Very few non-Boreni have ever been privileged enough to see Cenbarra, as it lies deep within the most inhospitable part of Boreni’s arid interior, but a few old records describe it as a place “laden with ancient magics” and “the slumbering energies of Terra itself.”
A nomadic people, the Boreni are a society of hunter-gatherers whose movements are dictated by the changing availability of food as the seasons pass. Significantly, the notion of possession or ownership of land and resources is unknown in Boreni culture—the idea never appears in their traditional stories, and their language has no words to express it. Instead, they believe themselves to be in constant, shared dialogue with the world around them, starting and ending with the ceremony of Dreamtime. As they move across the land, the Boreni set up temporary, open structures made from local vegetation or—more often—rest in caves or clearings that have been known to their families for centuries.
Dreamtime has its origins in the creation of Terra, and is said to represent memories of that time. It is the most sacred and fundamental part of the Boreni identity, described as a connection between peoples, objects, desires, animals, the dead and the living, and the world itself. Through their racial connection to the Dream, which they tap into via songlines, stories, and even “pathways” etched into the land or the night sky, the Boreni are able to catch collective glimpses of the past and the future. Usually, these collective dreams are limited to the individuals within a given area, be that a family, a group of friends, or even strangers tossed together in unusual circumstances. However, at the height of winter, the different families come together in Cenbarra and the nation Dreams as a whole.
The actual ceremony of Dreamtime demonstrates and forms the backbone of the Boreni social structure in general. Dreamtime is typically led by an elder within a given family; this elder is almost always a Dream Walker of some sort, which in turn determines that family’s totem—an animal or other figure that defines the group, in lieu of a last name. Through the various connections established between totems in the Dream itself, every Boreni can name him- or herself in relationship to every other Boreni in the world. This has, over time, resulted in a strong sense of kinship among the Boreni as a whole, even among people who are technically complete strangers.
Likewise, these connections help establish certain obligations within family-groups, specifically defining who looks after whom, who may give whom orders, and so on. Because of the huge diversity of families and particular familial customs, it is pointless to attempt to make generalized statements about expectations, responsibilities, traditions, or punishments—suffice to say that these things vary from family to family, that the connections do not follow any “predictable” hierarchy, and that non-Boreni often find themselves at a loss to understand the subtle complexities of in-family dealings.
In a wider cultural sense, the Boreni are a completely oral people; they prefer not to write down their stories or songlines if possible, and have often politely requested that scholars only repeat what they have learned of the Boreni if they can do so verbally. In contrast to this emphasis on an oral tradition, however, a particularly intriguing Boreni custom involves painting on natural features—rocks, canyon walls, along river banks. The artwork has little or no definite forms, favoring instead swirls of color derived from natural materials. When asked about the paintings, the Boreni have been known to describe the art as yet another dialogue taking place between mortals and the world.
Either because of their relative isolation, their deep respect for the world in which they live, or their strong emphasis on kinship—or, most likely, a combination of all three—the Boreni are noteworthy throughout Terra for the peacefulness of their society. Some Boreni families are avowed pacifists; others are less rigidly opposed to conflict; however, the fact remains that the Boreni have never engaged in any kind of warfare up to this day.