Confederacy of Highland Bean Farmer Cantons

Races: 99% Human, 1% Lizardfolk Government: A dispersed general alliance of local cantons and villages, co-operating only for defense, negotiation and ritual. Outspokely clannish and democratic. Capital: N/A

The men of the Cantons, or the Apurimac (Bean-Growers, in their tongue), are of a different stripe from the men of the West, having come out of the Eastern sea into their beloved highlands in the distant past. Living in the craggy mountain valleys and holding tightly to the high passes, their lives are defined by the growth and harvest of beans (and, less importantly, squashes, gourds and potatoes).

Their mountain valleys are well fed with nutrients from the mountain springs above, but require much work to be tamed and put to use. The work of carving sheer valleys and cliffs into even terraces suitable for farming is what brought together the Apurimac into their villages, towns and cantons, and the need to maintain them against storm, flood and mountain-spirits alike demands they stay together.

For the Bean Farmers, the mountains and their valleys are constant companions. The valleys are held to be sanctified by the spirits of the ancestors, who toil to defend it from the wild mountain spirits just as the living hold off treant, beastfolk, lizard-kin and all other comers. The passes into and out of the valleys are well washed in blood and paved with centuries of bones. The spirits of warriors, enemy and friend, are held to dwell beyond the valley-passes, and these wandering war-spirits are feared and courted by men at their peril.

Within the valleys, the Beanfarmers live in centuries-old fortified villages. Monumental stone walls surround their rock-cut houses and the entrances to deeply cut chamber tombs. To them, the village is the central organ of daily life. Though they are parsimonious and ruthless traders with all outsiders, with their village kin the Apurimac give with an open hand, since all must work together for the terraces to survive and the harvest to be taken in. There is a saying among them; “Do not spite your shieldbearer” - since all must serve in times of need to defend their valleys, the Apurimac prize good nature and honesty between themselves.

For outsiders, the same is seldom held. Other beanfarmers are trusted more or less depending on shared descent - all claim the same first ancestor, Huemac, with closer villages sharing more and more ancestors before diverging. A man is not counted an adult until he can recite his ancestors in this fashion. A man who shares all but two of your ancestors is to be taken into your home at need, fed and counted as a brother, but a man who only shares Huemac can expect a bowlful of beans and a place in the root cellar for three days and no longer.

This, of course, is broken in case of feuds - if a dishonour is done, a feud is the usual response, with the two family lines attempting to slay one another on sight more and more ferociously the more shared relatives they have had, since there is little graver than the insult of one who shared your father.

Villages maintain deep cellars full of dried beans, which are held up as the sacred source of life, from which sprouted the raft that carried Huemac’s fathers over the ocean to their blessed highlands. Most trade is conducted by the standard of sacks or pots full of dried beans. More pressingly, beans are held to be the food most fit for the dead, and a family will pour bowl after bowl into the rock-cut tomb of their forebears, only retrieving the preserved legumes at times of great need.