Handed down from their forebears, these laws are bigger than any Bastet and greater than any rank or title. These are their codes of honor, and the Bastet believe they separate them from the humanity, guarding them from human mistakes. The Karoush is the code their ancestors made, the Law of the Moon and the Sun, the Law of the Shaping of Secrets and the Law of the Change. Their code is presented to their descendants as follows.
We hold magic within ourselves, within our hearts and minds and spirits. To dishonor ourselves is to disperse that magic and scatter our souls.
We are to remain clean — to cleanse ourselves of filth, divest ourselves of our former lives, care for our own health and avoid the inbreeding sickness. Possession is unclean, and we must shake other spirits from our skins, lest they taint our own.
When we fail — we must purify ourselves with washing, seek cures for our sickness, raise the deformed ones we bear and cleanse our souls with ceremony. If the Unmaker’s spawn ride us to destruction, we are obligated to take our own lives. If we do not, others will do it for us.
Honor Your WordEdit
We are the wisest of the Changing Breeds, and come from places that respect the meaning of honor. Let the dogs and monkeys piss on trust; we are honest Folk — with each other, at least. It’s acceptable to lie to other creatures; they’re not of our blood and not bound by our laws.
We are to remain truthful — to break no oaths before the Folk, and make no false witness against one of our kind. A promise made is a bond sworn to Seline; we will act on it as if the goddess Herself would punish us for failure. We will flee to survive a fight, but will not run when others depend on our strength.
When we fail — we must make restitution to those we deceive, in deeds, trade or money. We may be challenged to Hanshii or punished by rite. We may be exiled or branded. At the very least, we will be disgraced, and remembered as liars to all of the Folk.
Honor Your Kin and KindEdit
We remember the Kinfolk who keep our kind alive, and we respect our cousins in the other tribes. The great cats are more precious than our human lovers, but both of them are blood relations. All Bastet are sacred in the light of the moon, and our sternest oaths protect us in these twilight times. All our laws pertain to Kin and Kind, and we respect each other as siblings under the moon.
We are to remain just — to quarrel not with each other without cause, to seek open restitution and honorable combat, to respect a challenge and the challenger, and to obey the lorespeaker and host of the taghairm. When our Kin and Kind are in danger, we will aid them; when they cry, we will succor them.
When we fail — we will take the judgment of our fellows, distance ourselves from our Kind, forsake the taghairm and accept the brand of the oathbreaker. If we allow our Kin to come to harm, we will accept that their spirits will carry news of our cowardice, and we accept that label as just.
Honor Your EarthEdit
We are the children of the moon and the earth together, shaped by the fathers, sired by the mother and suckled by the teats of Seline and Gaia as one. When corruption eats at the heart of our world, when the Asura devour the spirit of the land, we will not stand by. Our weapons are many — secrets, claws, teeth and allies — and we will not hesitate to employ them for our world’s survival. Our people have walked too close to extinction for us to take such matters lightly.
We are to remain fierce — to poison not the earth nor allow it to be ruined. We will inform others of plans to pollute the wild and hunt down poachers of game. We will stand beside the other Killi, even the hated dogs, if that means stopping the demons.
We will not ally ourselves with shadow powers or drink corrupted wisdom. We will stand brave in the face of the Unmaker’s wrath and we will triumph. We do not fail our Earth and mother. That path leads to death.
Honor Your SilenceEdit
We are the keepers of secrets, and our fates depend on silence. Each of us bears the hidden doom of our own people, and we know the cost of betraying that trust. We also know that we have what others want — or what they think they want — and it amuses us to make them squirm. Our knowledge is our concern. We will not share it unless we wish to.
We are to remain quiet — never to let our Yava leave our lips, nor allow them to fall into other hands. Our mysteries are our own to dispense, and we will value them by Rank and title. We will hide ourselves from outsiders; they will think they know us, but we will delude them. We will wrap our lore in riddles and tales; let the clever ones puzzle out their meaning. We will act as if we know even more than we do, for it keeps outsiders guessing. Let them wonder at our insight; they value us more highly when they do.
When we fail — we will cover our tracks with misdirection, pretend to be other than what we are, fill the air with idle rumors and hide messages in code. She who fails to keep the Yava will be killed — there is no better mercy — and he who acts upon it will be ripped apart by hunting cats. There is no forgiveness for this crime.