Reshantur was once a fertile farmland, and is now the site of a brutal and violent massacre.
Lore & History[]
After the collapse of the Orokin, and the attempted assassination of Parvos Granum, Reshantur become a lawless and cutthroat shadow of its former self. Overrun with Corpus control, the farmers of Reshantur merely became servants, as the fields they tended and plowed would never belong to them.
Without Parvos to keep the Corpus and the Board of Directors in order, bloody land grabs became routine in Reshantur. Every brutal takeover resulted in those who rebelled being slain, with their corpses becoming fertilizer for the next yield of crops, which in turn were tended to by the survivors. This led to an overall decrease of Reshantur's residents, as there were not enough adults left to both defend and care for the fields and crops.
Various relics of the WarframeNezha were also a common find throughout Reshantur's fields. Some would be unearthed and turned in out of fear, or for hopes of food, while others would be kept, becoming objects of worship for a group known as the Children of Reshantur.
The Children of Reshantur[]
Moas and other defensive instruments were too expensive to be implemented in defending Reshantur. However, children were cheap and plentiful. Since the adults spent most of their time tending to the crops, and the young were too immature to help, all of the eldest children chose to band together in an attempt to defend their farmland. Together, the middle-adolescent children formed a cult-like clan known as the Children of Reshantur.
Despite their age, the child-soldiers took their duty as Reshantur's defenders seriously, and were ready and willing to lay down their lives to protect their home. Every day, the clan trained in the ruins of an old abandoned temple, and even fashioned improved weapons and uniforms from repurposed farming equipment, such as fertilizer bags, wood, and cloth; all were based on the weapons and gear of Nezha himself.
Based the various relics of tales of courage of Nezha, they chose him as the clan's patron and protector. The children swore oaths of dedication and loyalty to the legendary figure, swearing to defend Reshantur's fields to the very last drop of their blood. The various tablets and slates found in their temple revealed that the children believed Nezha would bless them with victory should they fight without fear, and that he would abandon them should they ever fear at all.
Reshantur Cult Syandana This humble Syandana is modeled on those worn by the Children of Reshantur, who formed into a clan devoted to Nezha in defense of their home.
Reshantur Cult Spear Skin Based on the spears carried by the Children of Reshantur, which were in turn modeled on Nezha's flaming spears.
The Massacre of Reshantur[]
The massacre started off as just any other day, except for the children. With filthy syandanas donned and flimsy spears readied, the child warriors began to charge at their oppressors. The Corpus took aim, prepared to open fire upon the swarming mass of adolescents. However, almost immediately, the farmland was wreathed in flame.
After the massacre, Reshantur became the site of a Corpus archaeological excavation, resulting in the discovery of various relics; Nezha's Blazing Chakram was found within the children's temple, while their spears and syandanas were unearthed from the scorched earth of the attack. Corpus surveyor, Jena Xasparin, was sent to look over the excavation. At the site, she found a solitary boy in the middle of a field, wearing Nezha's Circa helmet. The field he was in was filled with the corpses and cadavers of slain Corpus troops; some were dismembered, others were impaled, all were burned.
"Nezha did it." the boy said calmly. He claimed that Nezha descended from the sky, tearing the Corpus troops apart with rings of fire. The fiery footsteps from Nezha's Fire Walker would raze the ground, and burn the earth wherever his feet touched. Any child that fell during that battle was healed by Nezha and rose to continue their fight. The boy also claimed that all the other children had gone with Nezha to be a part of his celestial army, and that he stayed behind to tell the story. Xasparin believed that the boy was merely traumatized, however, every single blackened bone that was recovered and gene-tagged had belonged to an adult.
Records of what exactly happened during the massacre are virtually impossible to find, as it is believed that the attack was covered up to protect the sensitive business practices of the Corpus, or that it was a mutiny within their ranks. To this day, the once fertile fields are now choked full of remnants from the massacre; munition shells, bodies, and scorched earth, all now unable to be plowed.
Nezha. The mercurial firemonger. The clarion of hope. However foul the decadent excesses of the Orokin Empire, the aftermath of its collapse was arguably worse. But, the darkest times often give rise to the brightest legends. We've seen that happen often, haven't we? Tales of a being called Nezha predate the Orokin Fall. They speak of a swift warrior who leaves trails of fire, summoning barbed spears from the very earth. But it is during a time of unsurpassed brutality, at a moment of wanton slaughter, that this most blazingly improbable of Warframes first proves to be more than a myth.
This blade! A tongue of exquisite flame in cold metal. It was unearthed by a poor farmer of Reshantur, as he followed his hulking plow-beasts across fields he would never own. Another might have bravely kept the dagger. But records suggest he handed it into his overseer on the spot, a half-cup of rice his princely reward. With no Dax to keep the peace, and no Parvos Granum to hold the Corpus Board together, bloody land grabs were routine. The fertile fields of Reshantur changed hands many times. With each 'hostile takeover', slain workers became 'fertilizer' for the next yield of crops - tended by the survivors - and so. It. Went. This created what you might call a staffing problem. If all the surviving adults are working the fields then who is left to defend them?
Children. That's who. This dismal little relic was once part of a... of a 'Syandana', shall we say. Though not Orokin make, clearly. No. Its young owner wove this from a fertilizer sack. There were many such capes found at the site. Enough for an army. Moas were expensive, you see. Children... they were cheap. And plentiful. It made good business sense to arm them. Not the very youngest, of course - just the near-adults. The still unbroken. Those who understood the stakes. The young defenders of Reshantur took their duty seriously. They formed into a little clan, trained every day in the ruins of an old temple, and even made themselves a uniform of sorts - part of which you see before you now. But this humble cape was modeled on something even older. The Syandana of Nezha himself -- displayed here -- before you.
This chakram was found in the ruins of the Reshantur temple along with fragments of stories, scrawled on slates in an immature hand, and oaths of dedication to a figure of legend. It seems the child-soldiers of Reshantur took courage from the tales of Nezha, adopting him as patron and protector. Their scratchings evince a firm belief that Nezha would bless them with victory should they fight without fear, and abandon them should they ever fear. So, they swore, they would defend the fields to the last drop of their blood. Clever manipulation. I wonder who put that idea into their heads. At any rate, they accepted it on faith. At least, until the Massacre of Reshantur.
This spear, modeled on Nezha's own, was found buried in scorched soil. Note. The size. Records of the attack are nigh impossible to find. Not surprising. The massacre was almost certainly covered up to protect what the Corpus regarded as sensitive business practices. Imagine the children, Tenno, wearing their pathetic syandanas, bearing flimsy weapons, but with heads high - as warriors. Think of them rushing at their far superior foes, without fear... and imagine what those foes did. To this day, the fields of Reshantur cannot be plowed. The blades of plows are dented and destroyed by an earth that, still, remains thickly seeded with shot, and shells, and the cold brass teeth of war. But that is not why the event is called the massacre of Reshantur. The children charged. The Corpus took easy aim. Not one child's heart fluttered. And then? Flame.
The Corpus surveyor Jena Xasparin says she found a solitary child, wearing this helmet, in the midst of a charnel field of remains. But they were the remains of Corpus troops. Some dismembered, some impaled... all burned. Nezha did it, the boy said calmly. He flew down from the sky and tore the enemy asunder with wheels of flame. When a child fell, he would raise them up again. Nezha moved quick as a scimitar, and the earth burned where his feet touched. Now the other had gone with Nezha, part of his celestial army. The boy had stayed behind to tell the story. To Xasparin, the boy was merely traumatized, the massacre probably a mutiny within the Corpus ranks. But Reshantur has been excavated, and every single one of the thousands of blackened bones that were gene-tagged... had belonged to an adult.
And at last, we meet Nezha face to face, in all his unquestionable reality. Did this Warframe model itself on the myths, to take on the mantle of a mythic hero? Or were the myths left in the Warframe's wake, a blazing trail to light the way? Ah. History will always be some manner of educated guesswork, and occasionally one of faith. Perhaps in some deeper stratum, we will find the lost children of Reshantur, sad little clusters of bones, not saved at all. But I have faith we will not. I leave you with this. Why do you suppose it was the child soldiers that Nezha chose to protect? Any war has its innocent casualties, but these seem to have called to him. What could a Warframe, a lethal specialist warrior, possibly have in common with a child? That riddle, I fear, must remain a riddle.