Ushgidush is a Nikkad village notable only as a stopover point on major caravan routes. It sits early along the journey of the Shgutumum River. At this point in its progression, the river is a narrow, rapid, muddy stream easily forded at many points and, in summer months, quite swimmable. Village youth indulge in this sport with great vigor. Large caravanserais wait just inside the walls by the eastern and western gates, used both by the foreign merchants journeying across the vastness of Shdustu and the Nikkad caravaneers running circuits up and down the river itself. Many goods are gathered from local sources to reach this point, where they join the much larger trade flow.
The village itself is a fine place, well-managed, with administration conducted by a captain who rules the garrison under the authority of the Prince of Shnudidishgu, though he is at the same time expected to honor a number of nearby Kharal tribal leaders as honored guests and to tender a measure of tribute to the khagan. This place, as a stockpile of trade goods, is vulnerable to raiding, especially in poor years when the steppe grows desperate. The walls have been built as high as rammed earth will reasonably allow, and the garrison is strong. All within the city capable of bearing arms train as militia at least once each week. The efficacy of such measures is rather mixed in my observation. The captain possessed excellent records going back a full fifty years and graciously opened them to outside examination. Assuming limited fraud and embellishment, something that seems reasonable given that such records are utilized by the prince to determine tax assessments, the village was assaulted in force no less than eight times in that span. They were able to repel the attackers twice, were brutally sacked twice, and three times resisted to the point of reaching a specialized tributary agreement to buy off the herdsmen at great price. On the final occasion, mentioned conspicuously in local legends, the defenders managed to assassinate two of the three Kharal nobles leading the assault in a single night. The resulting infighting among the attackers, combined with a vigorous sortie, inflicted such damage upon the local herders that the village remained unmolested for the next ten years.
I spoke with Houseid Abtrun, the leader of our retained Greencloaks, regarding this decidedly mixed record in the hope that his considerable experience in the conflicts of Shdustu would offer a measure of enlightenment as to such cycles of violence. He opined that the Kharal, by virtue of numbers, horsemanship, maneuver capability, and one to one superiority in arms, could generally siege and sack any strongpoint in their midst so long as they retained unity of purpose and desire for plunder. In this manner, no matter what the various princes proclaim regarding their sovereignty, all know that the khagans are Shdustu's true masters. Despite this, that combination of alliance and ruthlessness was both rare and fleeting. The Kharal are not a city-dwelling people, and any attempt at long-term control of Nikkad settlements always ends in bloody disaster as they are gradually bled away to nothing through endless alleyway ambushes and midnight murders. This insight was a powerful one, doing much to explain the curious fighting style of the Nikkad, which even my inexperienced eyes can discern is poorly suited to the wide open environment of the steppe. In the narrow confines of streets and buildings, however, short blades, thrown knives, and great swiftness become startlingly deadly. Those who farm by the rivers have shaped their devotion to arms such that while they may be defeated, they cannot be conquered. A most pragmatic, but equally cruel, approach.
The nomads could, of course, simply burn the Nikkad towns to the ground after sacking them. Or they could shatter the buried irrigation channels and leave the fields dry and desolate. Old stories and isolated ruins speak to episodes in the past where the remorseless rage of the steppe dwellers has been unleashed to this extent. Such devastation is exceptional, however, for the Kharal gain much through trade with the settled peoples that the steppe cannot easily supply them, especially iron and pottery, and they are not needlessly self-destructive of what they consider a source of wealth. Even when a town is sacked, the nomads concentrate on plunder and generally avoid widespread murder. They will also concentrate their depredations on whatever specific faction chose to oppose them, and generally allow those Nikkad who abandon the walls to hunker down in their compounds unmolested if tribute is paid. Defenders may reclaim the outer walls within days of a sacking, as the Kharal ride away with all they can carry. Fire is a risk, but a modest one compared to many other cities facing a sacking. Nikkad buildings are primarily made of brick that does not swiftly ignite, and the Kharal conduct their wars in the bitter cold of Shdustu's winter, often with all surfaces coated in snow and ice, slowing the spread of any blaze.
Sacked settlements therefore often recover swiftly, though this only restarts the cycle of raiding. Truthfully, the periodic violence seems to serve as a way to calibrate the tributary arrangements in response to changing conditions. Combat is simply considered an extreme form of ordinary relations between these peoples. The Kharal and Nikkad neither hate nor love each other, but instead cloak all interactions in formal rules and linked to chosen representatives. The level of mutual animosity between them, though not small, is considerably less than I have observed among adjoining peoples elsewhere. In the Foothill Kingdom the Mountain Bandits are brutally despised, though they present a minimal overall threat compared to the magnitude of the struggle between farmer and herdsman.
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Further evidence of this can be found in the response of the native peoples to true bandits. Bandits, who rarely refer to themselves in this manner but either cling to the former flags of mercenary groups from which they came or call themselves 'Grassland Brothers' are a somewhat uncommon but consistent feature of Shdustu, much as they are essentially anywhere in the world. Note that though the Kharal regularly raid each other, their neighbors, and traveling merchants, this is a different practice from indiscriminate banditry and no Kharal clan survives primarily by raiding. Herding and hunting always serve as the core of their lifestyle. Additionally, raiding practices are governed by long-standing traditions regarding acceptable targets, the rulings of the khagans, and a need to share tribute among all families involved. Similarly, the roving assassination parties of the Nikkad are assembled to engage in strictly measured vengeance, and will often completely refrain from taking any riches from those they slay.
Bandits are, instead, as they so often are, outcasts from proper society forced to gather together and prey upon their fellow humans as all other routes to survival through labor or commerce have either been forbidden or forsaken. In Shdustu, bandits are primarily drawn from several origins. Poverty, perhaps inevitably, is the most common source. Kharal who are unable to maintain sufficient head of livestock to keep the occupants of a yurt supplied with necessities will be driven to this path. This may happen after being repeatedly subject to rustling by rivals and enemies. Younger sons who fail to inherit any stock from their fathers and are unable to attain merit in battle may also go down this path, especially if they lose the last horse remaining to them, which is considered a sign of having lost identity as a proper Kharal. Nikkad who lose all farmland or property will fall into banditry through similar desperation. They may also be officially driven from the cities for violations of religious laws, such as through killing a sacred scorpion or engaging in intercourse with the wife of a married man. As the marriage prospects of poor young men are generally terrible, such affairs are not uncommon. Foreigners also often fall into banditry following the sack of caravans, gambling losses, or some other calamity that leaves them crushed by debt and unable to retain lodging in caravanserai. Less commonly, but still a recognizable component, are those forlorn souls who, for whatever reason, find themselves unable to abide by the rules of their respective societies. Though the laws of the Nikkad are far more accommodating than those of the Kharal, both are quite strict, and some find themselves unable to fit into a space beneath such strictures. Mercenaries who go through the scourge of battle, sorcery, or wizardry also may struggle in this way, their minds too devastated to behave within the bounds demanded by civilized peoples.
Life as a bandit is a desperate existence in a harsh land such as Shdustu, where most clean water is claimed by existing powers and spending the winter without proper shelter means brushing up against the grasp of the Lord of Death closely indeed. Bandits scrape out hideouts in caves, gullies, and within makeshift fortresses, shivering through the snow and praying the fuel for their fires will hold out. Throughout the rest of the year they prey upon anyone they can reach and overwhelm, including other desperate entities such as Sunfire Cultists and their own kind. Many haunt the caravan routes, seeking a burst of wealth that they can then sell back to unscrupulous Nikkad merchants. Success is rare, for caravans know to hire mercenary guards and these are usually superior in quality to bandits, but in the case where a caravan suffers some unexpected hardship, bandits can see opportunistic success. Regrettably, the supply of the desperate is not something easily exhausted, may the Divines have mercy.
Reliant on whatever simple weapons and armor they can scavenge, and rarely able to secure any significant supply of mounts, bandits are forced to rely on desperate bravado and the sudden rush from ambush to overwhelm their targets and drive them to abandon their goods. Ideally they will scatter a caravan's animals and then pick off unaccompanied camels across the open steppe before their foes can concentrate against them. Sustained engagements are not their way, and they generally flee when facing steadfast opposition. Scouts for the Dragon Expedition spotted bandits several times on the road during the first year in Shdustu, but given the strength of our defenses, they always retreated. Even in such cursory contacts, the empire's elite crossbowmen demonstrated their mastery, sniping bandits from a great distance on four separate occasions before they could escape. This won them many toasts among other caravan guards.
The Kharal will hunt down bandits when they gather in number, especially if they possess horses, but they generally prefer to avoid conflict with outcasts during ordinary times. This stems from a belief that the helpless should not be slaughtered like animals. The Nikkad lack such taboos, but they rarely send forces out into the vastness of the steppe in strength. Hidden redoubts matter little to them. Instead, this task is commonly left to mercenaries hired by merchants, who are the most vulnerable to bandit attack. The Silversheen Mercenary Company is famed for their efforts to combat banditry, and it was these we encountered in Ushgidush.
Their lieutenant, a woman, which is not unusual in that order, dragged ten captured bandits, and the corpses of those slain in battle, behind their horses into town. In the square before the temple they were offered a final moment to repent their crimes to the priest, which most did, then all, living and dead alike, were beheaded. Such dishonored dead are not taken out for proper ceremonial exposure, but instead dumped into refuse pits alongside livestock that have died of disease to rot instead of be consumed, slowing their journey to judgment before the Lord of Death. A sad fate, and surely they will face a long eon in the purgatory below for such wretched choices.