What songs can we sing? Nothing.
What words can we preach? None.
We have no history.Va sava Sagua, died of Sunken Hope at the age of 35.
Inspiration: Song (Memories of the Lost) from the Endless Space 2 soundtrack.
Humanity, as a concept, is very distinct from the human stories that are told throughout the land of the Black Sun. Following the ascension and annihilation that followed the Days of Cold and Dead, the Sun has hung in the skies birthing catastrophes in those that have not paid proper deference.
Few survived the transition, and even fewer were humans. As such, very little of those that can be traced back to the apocryphal descendants spun out of Choice and Fragility that were set onto this land. One such enclave, known to very few, remains as Bastion.
Bastion shelters and aids the remaining few humans of these lands, those who passed through the apocalypse unblemished.
Marked by their lack of mutations, the blood that they carry has become symbolic of the difference between the Old World and the New World, and represents yet the Choice that they can make. Slow to heal, and even slower to hunt, the blood of humans serves as a panacea for almost every known illness and mutation, restorative to such a degree that even lineages of mutations have been known to revert and begin anew. Infamous for the color and abilities, humans exist as very few in these lands, and the tension of being hunted for their blood makes it such that even fewer are adventurers.
Bastion, a chunk of magma lifted and shaped by the sickly mouths of Agamemnon, exists in a state of servitude to the Three, a collection of houses and leaders that have ruled Bastion since days immemorial. From their perch above the land, but not tempted to seek out and grasp the Sun for their own, they collect information, artifacts, and beings from the Old World. In exchange, they offer panaceas, curses, and immortal servants hewn from brackish Clouds of Anger that run tirelessly through the lands.
In direct philosophical conflict exists the majority of the humanoids that make up these ruined lands, also referred to as humans. As the tragedy of the Birthing Sun unfolded, those who remained in the surface lands and scavenged in the dead of night could not escape intrinsic changes made to their very being, an alteration upon the souls that they so tenaciously held onto. Mutations, conferring spiritual, mental, and bodily powers, bloomed within these vessels. Like a glass filled to the brim, some burst, but others found themselves reforged and renewed.