Uisgetaigh (eez-shgay-tie)
“To feel the rain inside your bones To know the wrinkles never unfold To never see the sun Up in the sky To watch the fog keep rolling in To feel the dew drop on your skin Why don’t you come along Give it a try”
-from “Never Be Dry,” a folk song in Uisgetaigh
Topography, Weather, Culture, and Resources
Uisgetaigh is the small sovereign floating island that moves from over meadowed lands to over the sea. About twice a year, the island gets low enough to land or water to lower boats or people via rope ladders. Salt water crashes onto eastern parts of the island, keeping the mangroves in the brackish water they need to survive (the perpetual ocean mist helps, too). Water then flows and is filtered by the mangroves and is functionally fresh in the western quagmires. Nearly year round rain keeps the land almost flooded, with few patches of solid ground, leaving traveling on mangrove roots the easiest way to get around without a canoe. However, in the past few decades, a hot air balloon ferry has allowed for more frequent passages to and from the island at least once a day, weather permitting. [I like the idea that the hot air balloon service is actually pushed by a different Region. Islanders tend to like their isolation.]
A place constantly shrouded by mist, Uisgetaigh spends most of its year hosting rain, hence its name. Only in fall is there a slight reprieve (it’s foggy instead) before the perilous stormy winters that grounds hot air balloon services. The saying goes “in the fall, the rain stands.”
A final note on weather: sometimes there are eyes that peer down from the sky, glowing in the night. The intense fog around the island sometimes makes the fullness of the eyes hard to see, but they’re definitely eyes. A lot of reasons and thoughts and beliefs follow the eyes: ancestors and the dead checking in from whatever is next, an omen, a sign something will be revealed. A popular creation story incorporates the eyes:
Long ago, the Rain was jealous of the Ocean for having Land. The Rain asked the Ocean for its own Land to hold, but the Ocean scoffed at the notion, saying the Rain was irresponsible and fickle. However, the Rain was persistent, and after eons, the Ocean grew tired of the Rain’s pestering. So the Ocean, the Rain, and the Sky set up a deal. The Ocean would give up a chunk of Land for the Rain to have, on the condition that it be returned twice a year to make sure the Rain was caring for it properly. The Sky would ensure the Rain did not abscond with the Land, and reminds the Rain by showing its eyes every now and again. All left the deal happy, and that is how things came to be, and that is all.
Home to a hardy people that, above all, want to be safe, Uisgians live in two main regions. The perilous quagmires to the west (called Crith, pronounced cree) make an ideal environment for delicious, medicinal, and useful herbs, but are shit to build on and easy to die in. The intricate mangrove forest to the east (called Manglach, pronounced mahn-gluh) does little more to aid in large construction, but it at least provides shelter, plenty of small game to hunt, and easy wood to work with. Unfortunately, to some creatures, people are also small game. Since people here are focused on not dying, it is hard to develop skilled laborers. Most folks know enough to get by and stay dry.
Hub
On an island as small as Uisgetaigh, there is really only one “city,” though even town is a bit of a stretch. Còmhlataigh (pronounced koh-vlah-tie), literally “together place” is a narrow stretch of populace along where Crith and Manglach meet. Shallow waters mixing in the muck mean fewer water predators like piranhas to worry about. Locals have taken to lashing together branches in the canopy and encouraging thick upper foliage, effectively making a town-wide umbrella. There are intentional drain points in the city where water gently streams down constantly. These spots are of spiritual importance and thought to be places of truth, as they allow the truth of Uisgetaigh to flow through (constant water). It is unknown if magic prevents lies from flowing here or if the cultural norm is simply so prevalent that no one thinks to lie by a Fíorfall (pronounced fear-fall) [like how we would never dream of breaking a pinky promise].
The population here is about half-transient. Folks from around the island gather here for holidays, meetings, sports, etc. A daily market encourages trade. This is also a central hub for tourists, and while most Uisgans consider themselves honorable, a mark is a mark is a mark. Tours, counterfeit crystals, and folk tales make locals decent cash. And of course, should a noble’s coin purse fall into the unstable mud on a quagmire tour, it would be “unretrievable” (hehe).
The permanent residents of Còmhlataigh help maintain the roof-like branches, appropriate Fíorfalls, dense roots around pools to keep out carnivorous fish, and otherwise ensure logistical smoothness in reserving spaces for conferences, family reunions, and sporting tournaments. They are personable, hospitable, and shrewd.
Points of Interest, Landmarks, and Faction
Uisgetaigh is home to a specific oddity, the Craogunuisge (prounounced cray-goon-eez-shgay), or the trees without water. The crystalline forest within Manglach sparks differing beliefs amongst the locals. Some regard it as lucky, powerful, or even sacred: a place of surety and sturdiness. Something finally the water does not consume. Others, for similar reason, see it as a curse and somewhere to be avoided at all costs. Either way, it is not a populated area, and its origin is fuel for many a folktale. The most popular tale involves this group of trees rejecting the way things are. Longing for a return to solid ground, they engaged in Magic to turn into Earth, becoming rock rather than wood. On the more conspiratorial side, whispers of a magical experiment gone wrong reminds the superstitious that Magic is for the Land, not the People.
Some make pilgrimages and others try to take some of the crystal for their own, perhaps to sell or perhaps to hold. Tourists taking the hot air balloon service have begun to marvel at the place, but not all of them make it back out…
In Crith, a collapsed mill houses an open secret: the Batair Chall (pronounced bat-tar hahll), the Place of Lost Goods. Scavengers poke through the dangerous quagmires, fishing out precious belongings to sell here. Known only to those who know, there is a sunken market beneath Batair Chall that peddles unusual and dangerous wares away from the prying eyes of the public. Crystal lines the walls of the underground acre, keeping the mud and water at bay.
While there is no formal system of governance, influence over the island is strongly held by a group that calls themselves the Benevolent Shroud, the Anart Taineach (pronounced Ah-nair Tay-nah). This group of cultists work to protect something, keeping it out of the mind and collective public consciousness. Those who track Shrouds see them frequent somewhere in the northwest of the island. The Shroud does their job well, as most folks do not know what lays there and think it best to stay away. Legends whisper of it having something to do with why the island floats in air as if it were water, but it’s anyone’s guess as to what really goes on there. In fact, the island’s anti-gravity is such a mystery, locals will respond with “why’s the island float?” instead of “I don’t know.” [They frequent the meteor garden]
The final secret of Uisgetaigh lives high in the trees of the mangrove forest, nestled deep in the endless mist, “floating” above all else. It holds something, or somethings, back. Few know of it, and those who know wish they didn’t.
Holidays and Festivals
The most beloved sport on the island is Root-Running: a test of speed, endurance, agility, and problem solving. Free running through an obstacle course of muck, roots, and branches, root-runners must find their path by following small markers placed along the course. The fastest times with the fewest errors (losing track of the path) is the winner. The largest and most prestigious annual race is called the Grand Tree Prix, and is held on the summer solstice. The winner of the race is crowned the Pathfinder. The current Pathfinder, Gaoth (pronounced gay, 5/5/5) is looking to keep xir title for the 3rd year in a row. Xir is observant, steadfast, and confident.
Uisgecuan (pronounced eez-shgay-coo-uhn) is the name of the time in which the island is at or near sea level. It happens twice a year, usually at the start of spring and the end of summer. The month before, boats are made and prepped near the edge of the island along Crith. Contact with the ocean lasts for about a week, during which time islanders prepare meals with mainland ingredients, doors are left open, and many a song is sung. Anyone looking to move onto Uisgetaigh is given a warm welcome, usually in the spring Uisgecuan (Aon, pronounced aye-in). Between the end of the first and start of the second Uisgecuan (Dhá, pronounced haw with a guttural ‘h’), folks looking to move away from the island pass along belongings and tips to newcomers or returners, before taking their leave during the second Uisgecuan. At the end of it all, there tends to be a week of almost no activity and closed doors as everyone resets.
There is little else to celebrate in Uisgetaigh. Fall is for preparing for winter and winter is for surviving. Come spring, it is time to prepare for the next Uisgecuan.
Other Fun Nonsense
Uisgetaigh’s naming conventions come from Scots-Gaelic and tend to be descriptive to either a place’s function or its relationship to water. (For its inhabitants, any Gaelic, Scottish, Irish, etc. name generator works fine. My character’s name is just “mist” in Scots-Gaelic)
Swears and expressions tend to reference either the sky, water, or plants. For example: “fuck me skywards,” “shove it where the rain don’t fall,” “a few drops shy of a full pond,” “denser than a walking root,” etc.
There is a general prevailing belief that people shouldn’t much mess with magic. Magic is for the land to use. People tend to muck it up. Obviously, individuals differ, but your average Uisgian would rather tough it out than use a spellbook.
Common occupations include: herb gatherer, tool maker, hunter, medicine person, entertainer, and a burgeoning tourist guide industry.
While the movement of the island is unnoticeable, there are points in the year where the elevation difference is noticeable, namely winter. Actions are more fatiguing as the increased elevation leads to thinner oxygen.