Para Nun De Amentia sits at the very lip of the world, the southernmost nation of Anarkand, where the western continent thins into storm-wracked seas. Bordered by Mavado to the north-east and Karasis to the north, the country has always faced outward rather than inward. Its long, broken coastline, deep natural harbours, and restless oceans shaped a civilisation that learned early how to read tides, winds, and currents as if they were a second language.


In its earliest eras, authority rested with Ship Councils, assemblies of master navigators, builders, and trade stewards. From this system came some of the greatest fleets Anarkand had ever seen, not war fleets at first, but explorers, harvesters, and traders. Para Nun vessels became synonymous with reliability and elegance, their designs copied across the world, though never fully replicated. Even today, a Para-built ship is considered a living thing, its name etched into the keel before its first launch.


The nation’s wealth followed the sea. Rare oceanic fauna, abyssal plants, and salt-born minerals fed a culinary tradition unmatched anywhere on Anarkand. Para Nun delicacies are spoken of with near-reverence: living kelp-lattices that dissolve on the tongue, pressure-grown shellmeats harvested from impossible depths, and fermented tide-fruits that take decades to mature. These foods became both export and identity, giving Para Nun De Amentia cultural influence far beyond its borders.


Over time, the nation modernised without abandoning tradition. Vast shipyards evolved into industrial cities. Oceanic research towers dotted the southern seas. Though never as technologically aggressive as Novarra or Kumantarakis, Para Nun De Amentia quietly mastered applied marine science, becoming the undisputed authority on ocean travel, submersion, and pressure engineering.


The Stand at Blackwake Strait

In the late 6th era, a colossal trans-oceanic quake triggered a chain surge that threatened to annihilate the Blackwake Strait, a vital passage used by hundreds of civilian vessels from multiple nations. With evacuation impossible, Para Nun Captain Zola-Marr took command of the Starbound Current, a heavy-lift vessel never meant for manoeuvring in confined waters.

Against every regulation, he guided the ship into the collapsing strait, using its mass and anchored stabilisers to absorb and redirect the surge. The Starbound Current was destroyed, but the strait held long enough for thousands of ships to escape. Zola-Marr survived, though he never sailed again. To this day, no Para captain speaks his name at sea without pausing first.


The Deep Meridian Project

Not all Para Nun history is sung. In the shadowed years of the 7th era, a covert initiative known as the Deep Meridian Project sought to push Amentian adaptation to extreme ocean depths without reliance on mechanical suits. Conducted in abyssal labs far south of the main continent, the experiments involved biological alteration, pressure-induced mutation, and neural grafting.

Volunteers were promised glory and compensation for their families. Many never returned. Those who did were changed, capable of surviving crushing depths but unable to live under normal skies. When fragments of the truth surfaced, the Ship Councils dismantled the programme and sealed the facilities. The ocean reclaimed them swiftly, but whispers claim some of the altered still roam the deep trenches.



The Southern Silence

During long-range sonar mapping in the early 8th era, Para Nun oceanographers uncovered something impossible beneath the southern abyss: a vast, symmetrical structure buried miles below the seabed, older than any known civilisation. Its material did not corrode. Its geometry defied natural formation. The discovery was classified immediately, shared only with the Temple of Anark under the codename Southern Silence. No excavation was attempted. The Temple advised observation only. To this day, Para Nun De Amentia officially denies its existence, yet vast exclusion zones remain on southern charts, their waters eerily calm.


The Loss of the First Light Beyond

Though a maritime giant, Para Nun De Amentia once sought the stars. In the 8th era, the nation launched its first spacecraft, the First Light Beyond, crewed by 23 of the finest pilots, engineers, and scientists the country had ever produced. Designed with shipbuilding philosophy rather than aerospace doctrine, the vessel was elegant, ambitious, and flawed.

Shortly after leaving orbit, a cascading structural failure tore through the central spine. The craft disintegrated silently above the southern ocean. No distress call was completed. Debris fell like burning rain for hours. The nation entered a period of collective mourning, and all spaceflight ambitions were abandoned for many years. To this day, Para Nun vessels lower their flags once a year in remembrance of the lost 23.