The Disciples of the Worm are ruled by the Triarchs, three of the eldest and most powerful Noss'fyrat. Below them, the Chiurgeons direct the efforts of the other Noss'fyrat who inhabit Azoth Zul, and oversee the refitting of the Flesh Engines, the Butcheries, the Worm Pits, the Forges, and other long-forgotten machines of the ruined citadel. All members of the Disciples occupy a rank in a well-defined hierarchy, from lowly human Aspirants and servile, barely-infested Novitiates to the exalted Bile Priests, advanced in the mysteries of the Disciples' theology and the arts of blood magic and flesh-weaving. The Disciples lord over a great many slaves of all races, especially orcs and beastkin.
Faction Species:WIP
Human
Territory Details:
Around Mount Azoth lies a ruin-littered wasteland of poisoned water and stinking, ashen bogs inhabited by the skulking and barbarous ukhund, the bog-fiends: barely sentient scavengers.
Faction Religion/Ideology:WIP
The Pale Masters practice an ancient and forbidden faith known as the Mysteries of the Worm.
Faction Description:WIP
In ancient times, it is said that the Disciples of the Worm pledged allegiance to Lord Daigon, serving him in his war against the pretender-god Justinian. The Dark Lord promised the disciples the freedom to pursue their black arts, their decadent religion, their relentless pursuit of arcane power and immortality free of persecution, and provisioned them with all manner of slaves and fodder for their twisted experiments. In return, the Disciples served Daigon, building an army worthy of the Dark Lord: breeding orcs and beastkin and trolls and all manner of foul monsters with which to fight the slaves of the pretender.
Alright, lets get this show on the road. I know what I'm doing, I just need to get it down. This post will be edited as I finish the various write up. As always feedback is appreciated and I am always looking for people to colaborate with on nation/character creation!
Faction Name: The Axlo Kingdom
Alias: Kingdom of the Blind, The Poisoned Well
Government Type: Oligarchy
The Neotites and Androgogs are two forms of the same species, with their forms dictated by their station in life. Common to both forms are their basic body type. Both Neotites and Androgos resemble humanoid salamanders. Ranging from 4 to 6 feet high (6 to 8 feet long from nose to tail) the Axol have long, sinewy bodys. Both forms have slick skin, covered in a thin layer of mucus and four fingered hands with sticky pads to allow for better grasping.
All Axol are born as Neotites. Strictly aquatic, Neotites are blind with feathery gills and a translucent skin allowing one to see their organs. Gifted with impressive tactile senses, most Neotites can "see" underwater better than most. By gauging pressure, temperature, current and ambient radiation the Neotite can navigate the extensive cave systems running beneath the Claws. The lower caste of Axol society, most Neotites remain in the form due to exposure to the radiation from Agrath Ore. The poisoned waters that flow through the Claws makes it so most Axol never continue onto maturity and remain as what could be considered giant babies their entire lives. While not as large as Androgogs, Neotites still grow up to 5 feet long. They alse tend to be fatter and less lithe than their elder bretheren, remaining rather pudgy around the middle their entire lives.
Neotites can only mature into Androgogs if they are raised in fresh, clean water. While maturing the skin of the Neotite becomes tougher, and their sensory organs better develop, gaining fully functioning eyes and noses. Mid way through maturity the Neotite loses its gills and gains the ability to breath through its skin, allowing the Androgog to function both in and out of water. Androgogs still prefer moisture though, and when traveling outside of the claws bring large tanks allowing them to rehydrate twice a day. Androgogs are much more athletic than Neotites. While Neotites are arguably better swimmers, Androgogs make for better fighters. Agile and able to coil their long bodies in ways no other race can hope to an Androgog is a difficult foe to pin down, and absolutely impossible to get a grasp on. Due to their ability to leave the water and the required access to fresh water to fully mature, Androgogs are the defacto leaders of the Axol race. It is usually postulated that the ratio of Neotites to Androgogs is 2 to 1, although that number may be closer to 3 to 1.
Territory Details:
The Axol populate the vast network of caves that honeycomb the Claws. The caves are somewhat inhospitable to other races, due to the lack of sunlight and the pervasive damp the leaves everything cold and soggy. The Axol of course prefer their environment like this, and aside from dignitaries, traders and the odd up river expidition, tend to remain isolated in their mountain home.
While many of the upper chambers of the Claws are above water, with many excavated to make them more comfortable for foreign guests, the majority of the tunnels and rooms are underwater or can only be accessed through flooded areas. To be continued...
Government Type: The Red Empire is home to innumerous warlike tribes of varying strengths, consisting of a number of Orcish clans and various different tribes of Beastkin, in their diversity. All of them, though, Orc and Beast alike, are submitted to the empire's strongest tribe: the Naukada, or "Red Orcs". The Naukada Krin—the chieftain of the Red Orcs—is, by that right, the ruler of the whole of the Kaumntok. He leads the entire empire in war and in peace (but mostly war), and is believed by the Orcish clans of the Kaumntok to be a god incarnate. When the Naukada Krin dies in battle, the Orcs of the Kaumntok do not believe that the Naukada Krin has died, but rather that he has changed form; the strongest child of the former Krin, or, if he has no offspring, the strongest of his tribesmen, is then worshiped as the Naukada Krin's new incarnation.
Faction Species
Red Orcs, the founders and masters of the Naukada Kaumntok. They are similar in all ways to their green counterparts, but are less variable in size and shape and are, of course, tinted red rather than green. Naukada have the height, weight and physique of an average physically fit human, but their lifestyle means that the average Naukadan tribesman is tougher than the average human farmer. Female Naukada are slightly more slender than the males, though they too are capable of becoming able warriors. Unlike green-skinned Orcs, there are no Naukada who are either gigantic like an ogre or troll or small like a goblin, their size being relatively uniform. Culturally and politically, too, the Naukada are united. It is a rare sight to find a Red Orc outside of the Kaumntok, excepting on a raid into neighboring kingdoms, as all of the Naukadan clans are located within the Kaumntok's boundaries.
Quite simply, Orcs that aren't red skinned, although "balor" literally translates to "green". The Naukada refer to all non-Naukada Orcs as Balor, even those which are more like goblins or trolls, or who are tinted some shade other than green (or even no shade at all). Balor are a common sight in the Naukada Kaumntok, but most of their number of course live outside of the Red Empire, many even residing in corners of Geryon far and away from Nagath itself. Though they believe themselves to have been divided from the Balor at the very creation of the Orcish race, the Red Orcs do not besmirch them. It isn't uncommon from Naukada and Balor to interbreed, and the child will always have the tint of the mother.
The Tshriv are a semi-aquatic species of humanoid beastkin, and one of the most intelligent of their kind. They resemble a cross between men and fish, their hairless and pale bodies featuring webbed toes and feet, making them well-suited to water. Of slender build, and with a greyish-blueish complexion, the Tshriv are well-known for their massive eyes, which can be coloured any variety of blue from the shade of the brightest sky to the murkiest depths of the sea. A stewardly folk, Tshriv clans are one of the few tribes of the Naukada Kaumntok to trade openly with outsiders, welcoming foreign merchants into their coastal villages for honest exchange. The one group of peoples excluded from their lands are the Xaxylii, their traditional foes, whom they slay on sight in their own territory and are just barely able to tolerate when they are seen in the other realms of the Kaumntok.
A race of vaguely humanoid beasts, half minotaur and half wild pig, the Xaxylii inhabit the northern face of The Claws, in the eastern part of the Red Empire. Their bodies are pudgy, bald spare for being riddled with isolated long strands of hair which sprout from their flesh in random places, usually becoming ingrown. Their hands are humanoid, but less useful than a human's hands, only able to muster a basic grip of simple objects rather than exercising anything close to fine motor skills. Their faces are disgustingly foreign to a human gaze, a huge pig's snout covering up half of their head and a long pair of slightly curved horns protruding from their skull. Their wit is sub-par; they are one step up from bestial, known for infighting even within the Kaumntok—not necessarily out of rebellion, but simply because they cannot comprehend order and peace. The Xaxylii have an ancient blood feud with the Tshriv, whom they kill on sight in their lands and are only occasionally barely able to tolerate when visiting other areas of the Red Empire.
Considered by themselves to simply be human beings, the slave-race of the Sharforukak are mutated and mutilated men found in the Kaumntok's west, near The Marches. They are easily identifiable, often missing entire limbs, or otherwise in some variety of freakish proportions, their flesh twisted and mangled as if their bodies had melted in the sun and then cooled again. Being slaves of the Naukada, they do not have their own tribes or territory, and simply live with whichever Naukadan clan to which they are attached. The Naukada teach that the Sharforukak are a branch of humans cursed by the god of the humans, Shar, for forsaking his worship. As it is common for the Naukada to abuse the Sharforukak, often to the point of death, and being that most of the race's offspring are stillborn, too mutated to live, it is an open secret that a great many of those called Sharforukak are actually ordinary humans captured in raids and mutilated. When taken into Votartok to be enslaved, the humans are removed of one of their limbs or otherwise disfigured, to ensure that they fit in among the Sharforukak and could not easily return to human society. Within a year of being passed around by the Naukada, it is hard to tell a man captured as a healthy human being from a true, born Sharforukak.
Territory
The centre of the Naukada Kaumntok, both literally and symbolically, is Lake Ukha, or the "Ukha Gujatkar" in the Naukada tongue. It is from here that the Red Orcs' creator-god-king was born, walking out of a sea only just born of the ashes of the fallen god Ukha. Along the Ukha Gujatkar's north coast sits Ahvavain, the Red Empire's capital and largest settlement, and the place at which the Naukada Krin is said to have departed the Ukha Gujatkar. The Krin's seat is located here, among a swath of simplistic semi-temporary hovels, a smaller number of homes of wood and stone, and even a handful of buildings created of stone and metal. Foremost of the latter, dominating the landscape for miles around, is the Avowas: a tower of stone, painted red and reinforced with iron, that serves as the personal residence of the Naukada Krin.
The lands of the Kaumntok east of the Ukha Gujatkar are divided into two regions. The closest of these, Diravebenia, "The Ground Beneath the Sky", is so-named for being the land over which the ashes of Ukha flew on their way to the Ukha Gujatkar. Diravenbia is a land of hills, growing higher as one approaches The Claws. It is populated mainly by Orcs, chiefly the Naukada themselves, although they do not represent a commanding majority, especially in the lands of the region furthest from the shores of the gujatkar. East of Diravebnia is Firukavukontok, "the land of the first sons of Ukha", which is the only of the Red Empire's territories populated primarily by Beastmen. The most predominant Beastkin species found here is the Tshriv, an industrious and intelligent race resembling men, but with large eyes, webbed toes and feet, and without a strand of hair. Their clans, among them some of the most recently subjugated of the vassals of the Kaumntok, hold sway over the territory of Firukavukontok closest to the rivers and sea, where it is humid and swampy. They are the ancient foes of the Xaxylii, the inhabitants of the region's mountains and the inland areas far from the river. Whereas the Tshriv are industrious and fairly intelligent, the Xaxylii are monstrously destructive and uncooperative, subject to the Naukada by force alone. A twisted mess of minotaurs and boars, they covet the lands of both their fellow Xaxylii and the territory of the Tshriv, and the banner of the Kaumntok has far from ended their persistent infighting.
Immediately west of Lake Ukha is Votartok, the homeland of the Naukada, and the first land conquered by Naukada Krin and his reborn army, centuries ago. The area's largest minority is the Sharforukak, the "forsaken of Shar" in the Naukada tongue, a race of heavily mutated and deformed humans with hideously disfigured features. Votartok a flat, fertile land, perfect for both farming and grazing, but having been used for neither for the last four hundred years. Holding little game or forage, Votartok's primary service to the Kaumntok is as a staging point for raids against Shartok, the human kingdoms to the west: what men call the 'The Marches' and 'The Imperium' in the Common Tongue. Flanked by rivers, Votartok is easy to defend from outsiders, and any encroaching human armies that do cross the rivers can easily find themselves swarmed by the Naukada's superior numbers, and without battlefield features to use against the tenacious tribesmen. Where the flatness of Votartok ends, in the south, is where the land of Ashtwa begins. Mainly populated by Balor—literally "Green" in Naukada—the orcs of Ashtwa are not Naukada, having green tinted flesh instead of red, but they follow the Red Orcs' teachings of Shar and Ukha and Krin all the same. The most devout and loyal clans of Ashtwa even paint themselves red, in reverence of Naukada Krin, a gesture both respected and mocked by the Naukada themselves. The landscape of Ashtwa is polluted, its rivers turning sour and devoid of fish and its soil unfit for seeds as one travels further and further south, but it is home to the most cherished plant in all of the Kaumntok: the hugi. This small black flower, budding year around and endemic to southern Ashtwa, is used for various purposes by the many peoples of Nagath, both within the Naukada Kaumntok and well beyond. The flower saps the life of the soil in which it is grown, killing off competing plants and desolating the environment, contributing to Ashtwa's bleakness. It is valued all the same, however, for each part of the plant is incredibly effective at its purpose; the petals at pleasure, the stem at pain, and the roots at healing. The most numerous Beastkin race in Ashtwa, the Zionuk, are short of stature and quite plentiful, but shy, their clans sharing the east-central area of Ashtwa alongside the Balor, trying as hard as they can to keep to themselves. The Zionuk have skin as if charred black, coarse and dead. This outer rigid layer of flesh can be removed from them with even slight injury, so little as an especially firm poke, and underneath it can be seen that their softer inner flesh is translucent, their veins plainly visible. They are resistant to the effects of hugi, and only their clans are known to be able to cultivate it without ruining the soil.
Faction Religion/Ideology: The beastkin of the Red Empire follow their own gods of great multitude, one for each clan, to whom they attribute various legendary deeds and sacrifice their captured's flesh to when their bellies are already full. All Orcish clans under the sway of the Red Empire, however, worship the Naukada Krin as a living god. The clans all have their own legends about him and his strength and prowess, like the beastkin, telling that he once shattered this or that mountain, slew however many men, or perhaps bedded whatever number of foreign chieftesses. Central to the belief in him, however, is that he is the creator: not of the world, but of the Orcs in particular.
The worshipers of the Krin do not hold faith in the creator of the world, who they call "Shar", believing him to have died along ago. His conqueror and successor, so they say, was "Ukha", the shaper of the world as it is today. Legends say that after slaying Shar, Ukha took over domain of the world, but found that those beings born of the creator would not revere him, calling him a false god. That he could be worshiped as Shar was, Ukha created the beastkin, taking the animals of the world, shaping them into the forms he desired and blessing them with low cunning. The humans, created in Shar's own image, resented the perversion of the animals of the world into the beastkin, and sought to depose Ukha, whose form was a twisted mass of all animals to ever walk the land or fly the skies or swim in the sea. The loyal of Shar called forth their mightiest warriors and most talented smiths, and sent forth an army of a hundred thousand men to assault Ukha at his worldly keep, at Azoth Zul. Mankind defeated Ukah, destroying the god's keep. After burning his grotesque body, they sent his ashes to the wind, that his remains could never be revered.
Ukha's ashes were carried south by the wind, and landed where now sits a great lake, in the centre of Nagath. Such was the god's greatness that his scattered ashes weighed down the world, creating a depression into which flowed the sea. The beastkin wept, and many slew themselves, sacrificing their lives to pay homage to their fallen shaper. So much of the energy of Shar in the seas and so much of the captured power of Ukha in the beastkin flowed into the new lake that out of it, an entire new god was born. "Naukada Krin" waded out of the lake, in the form of a twisted man, imbued with the power of both Shar and Ukha, his flesh stained the colour of the blood of so many beastkin: the first Orc. Krin led all that remained of the loyal of Ukha to Azoth Zul, and slew the army of the greatest of the humans, whom had killed Ukha and taken up at his seat. Those that surrendered to Krin were fed to the beastkin, but those who died bravely in battle were rewarded. Raised by Naukada Krin, the Third God, with the power of both Shar and Ukha, they became the Orcs, created in Krin's image. The Red Empire's elders tell that those Orcs who willingly pledged themselves to Krin were stained in the blood of the fallen, adopting Krin's red tone for themselves and their ancestors, and that they became his devotees, the Naukada of today. The rest of the newly created Orcs ate of the flesh of the weak with the beastkin, who still wept for Ukha, and became so sick from dining on coward's meat and bones that they were turned green with illness. The Red Orcs then followed the Krin from Azoth Zul, going with him to forge an empire—the Kaumntok—at the site of Ukha's ashes. The rest of the Orcs, sickly and green, were doomed to wander Geryon with the beastkin, bereft of Naukada Krin's guidance.
Faction Description: The Red Empire is a coalition of Orcish and Beastkin tribes, brought to submission under the banner of the Naukada Krin, the high chief of the Red Orc clans and their god in the flesh. Both hostile to outsiders and prone to infighting, the Naukada Kaumntok isn't actually much of an empire in the purest sense of the word, and is referred to as such by the Imperium and their allies mostly for propaganda purposes.
Occupying a vast swath of territory in the centre of Nagath, The Kaumntok has many neighbours and is friendly with none of them. Skirmishes with foreign tribes of Orcs and Beastkin, unbowed to the Naukada Krin, are so common as to be endless, although the empire's natural boundaries—carved from centuries of bloodshed—make the permanent acquisition (or loss) of territory quite difficult. If the Naukada Kaumntok could be said to have cold relations with foreign Orcs, however, their relations with foreign Humans could be fairly called frigid. Humans encroaching on the Kaumntok's territory, or even prowling within sight of the rivers that demarcate it, are taken captive by the Naukada and horribly mutilated, dragged off to become a part of the horribly disfigured slave-race of the Sharforukak. What trade does occur between the Red Empire and the rest of Nagath is mostly conducted via the more cunning tribes of Beastkin that reside in Kaumntok territory. The Tshriv in particular, inhabiting the empire's east, are known for dealing peacefully with foreigners, their villages—sitting atop stilts in the eastern swamps—a destination for some number of merchants from across Nagath.
Faction History: TBA
Important Characters: TBA
Relations to other Factions: The Kaumntok has many neighbours and is friendly with none of them. Skirmishes with foreign tribes of Orcs and Beastkin, unbowed to the Naukada Krin, are so common as to be endless, although the empire's natural boundaries—carved from centuries of bloodshed—make the permanent acquisition (or loss) of territory quite difficult. If the Naukada Kaumntok could be said to have cold relations with foreign Orcs, however, their relations with foreign Humans could be fairly called frigid. Humans encroaching on the Kaumntok's territory, or even prowling within sight of the rivers that demarcate it, are taken captive by the Naukada and horribly mutilated, dragged off to become a part of the horribly disfigured slave-race of the Sharforukak. Only a fool tries to trade with a Red Orc.
What commerce does occur between the Red Empire and the rest of Nagath is mostly conducted via the more cunning tribes of Beastkin that reside in Kaumntok territory. The Tshriv in particular, inhabiting the empire's east, are known for dealing peacefully with foreigners, their swampy villages along the coast a not infrequent stop for minor merchants plying their modest wares. The Zionuk, too, in Ashtwa, even depend on foreign trade to sustain themselves. Their kind are nigh immune to the effects of the drug "hugi", whose flowers are native to their lands, and their people sell the cultivated flower to enterprising traders that then distribute the substance across Geryon, illicitly.
Government Type: The kingdom of Barad-an is a predominantly a feudal monarchy, ruled over by the four Great Clans who rule as Kings from their seats in the four Great Cities of Barad-an. However there is one of the four which stands head and shoulders above the others, ruling Barad-an as High King from the capital of Bogrul Zhul. It is Clan Bogrul'mar, who can trace their ancestry back to their mighty hero Bogrul the Mighty, whereas the other Great Clans can trace their ancestry back to Bogrul's three companions. The High King's word is law in Barad-an, and the three Kings all swear undying allegiance to him. But there are other lands in Barad-an not under the control of the Kings, and are instead divided into several regions governed by Masters. These Masters are all appointed by the High King, typically for life but they rule at the whim of the High King, and are almost always from one of the Great Clans.
But there is also a region not technically considered a part of Barad-an, which would be the Despotate of Sacreligium. The Despotate only includes the city of Sacreligium itself and a small portion of the surrounding countryside, and while not technically a part of Barad-an it is a client state of the High King and is thus subject to his will. However the Despot is given a large reign of autonomy to govern his city as he pleases so long as he pays his tribute and remains loyal to the High King. The city was founded by Justinian exiles and the government of the city was purposefully designed into a mockery of the Imperium's government, with many of the same titles being utilized by the bureaucracy of the Despotate.
Faction Species:
The orcs make up most of Barad-an's population, especially the population of freemen. They are a heavily diverse lot, with vast number of different varieties making their home within the kingdom. All of them would be considered rather ugly, at least by human standards, with their sharp teeth, flat noses, broad faces, and pointed ears. Furthermore there are many whose faces and bodies are grossly misshapen. Their skin tones vary widely; some are bleach white while others are pitch black, they can go from grey to having tints of grey or red or yellow or even blue. And there are numerous sizes as well, from the goblins who are often shorter than a man to the ogres who tower above them. But despite these differences, they are all considered orcs and while individuals may disparage certain sub-races, the orcs of Barad-an as a whole do not.
Within Barad-an there are two different groups of humans. The first, and more numerous, are those who live their lives as slaves. They are either captured on raids and brought back to Barad-an or born to slaves already toiling away. In Barad-an proper the latter do have a chance to gain their freedom, though chances or horribly slim, while those captured have no such chance. It is different in the city of Sacreligium, where there is never a chance for a slave to rise up from their bondage and they are often more horribly mistreated as well. But aside from the slaves, there are the free humans which are a much rarer sight. There are a handful of former slaves but most free humans are the Sacreligians, the descendants of Justinian exiles who make up the freemen of Sacreligium since orcs typically stick to Barad-an proper.
Territory Details: The kingdom of Barad-an is generally divided into three distinct regions: the Black Shield, the Bitter Shore, and the Rift. The Black Shield is the name for the mountains and hills in the north of Barad-an, and it is where the four Great Cities are all located. The Black Shield is a heavily forested region full of mountains and vales, where the tallest peaks are so high as to be capped in snow all year. The mountains are also home to a wealth of minerals such as iron and copper, while 'precious' metals are all but absent. There are very few surface structures built within the Black Shield as the Orcs dwell within the earth, but the most famous are the Black Gates. They are Orcish built fortifications located along key mountain passes, and have done an exceptional job of halting the advance of any Marcher Lords who sought to sack Barad-an. But Barad-an is most well-known for the Great Cities, the pride of Barad-an. These four cities are all carved deep into the stone of the Black Shield and are home to numerous human slaves and even more orcs.
South of the Black Shield is the land known as the Bitter Shore, known as such for the salty swampland that dominates much of the coastline. In fact, the Bitter Shore is comprised mostly of wetlands though the interior is freshwater. However, the land is also something of the breadbasket of Barad-an as large swathes have been reclaimed from the marsh and turned into farmland to feed the immense populations of the Great Cities to the north. The Bitter Shore has a much higher percentage of humans than the Black Shield as well, as the great farms are all worked by predominantly human slaves and it is also home to the human city of Sacreligium. Founded by exiles from the Justinian Imperium, the city almost looks like it was transported from the Imperium itself. However as the exiles denied the divinity of Justinian there is nothing built to praise him.
And the final, and by far the smallest, region of Barad-an is the Rift. Located on the very western border of Barad-an, there are no settlements larger than a village located there for a number of region. The terrain in that small region is incredibly treacherous; though it is dwarfed by the real mountains to the north much of the Rift is composed of treacherous cliffs and winding pathways. The path is by no means easy to traverse, making it easily defensible and an obvious border. But there is more protection than simply the geography, as Barad-an is more than happy to make use of the White Gates. They are ancient fortifications constructed long ago by the Justinians, taken by Barad-an near the beginning of its existence and resulting in the kingdom having been a major thorn in the Imperium's side for centuries.
Faction Religion/Ideology: WIP
Faction Description: WIP
Faction History: The earliest history of Barad-an is shrouded in myth, with the kingdom's founding legend taking place at the time of the Dark Lord's fall. According to their beliefs, there was a great Orc warlord named Bugrol the Mighty who saw how the Dark Lord was a tyrant who abused his people and ruled through fear. And so Bugrol turned against the Dark Lord, with an army of Orcs brave enough to face the Dark Lord in battle commanded by himself and his three brothers by oath. But Bugrol and his companions knew that his army was no match for the Dark Lord's, and so Bugrol struck a deal with the Dark Lord's greatest enemy: the God Emperor Justinian. In return for the help of Bugrol and his allies, Justinian would give the orcs land to settle and found their own kingdom. A home where the orcs could forge their own destiny, rather than serving as pawns for the Dark Lord. And so they went to war, fighting battle after battle against the Dark Lord and though the cost was high they eventually pushed him back to his wretched citadel of Azoth Zul. And it was here that Bugrol and Justinian met the Dark Lord Daigon in personal combat. The fight lasted for hours upon hours until it seemed that the Dark Lord would prevail, but as he focused on Justinian to land the killing blow Bugrol managed to plunge his sword into the Dark Lord's heart. It was then, as Bugrol turned to help Justinian to his feet, that he found his supposedly ally's blade lodged in his belly. And as if that betrayal was not enough, Justinian's armies turned on their orc allies and began to slaughter them. It was then that Bugrol's sworn brothers were forced to make a choice; they burned with righteous fury and anger but they knew that to fight would be to die and all Bugrol's dreams would be for naught. And so they fled, taking the remains of their army southwards in a great exodus to the Shield Mountains. It was there that they settled and built their first city, named Bugrol Zhul after their fallen ruler, and where Bugrol's son Grishat was crowned King with his father posthumously crowned first King of their new Kingdom of Barad-an. Of course this legend is unique to the orcs of Barad-an, and most other deny that Bugrol the Mighty ever fought against the Dark Lord or he even existed at all.
The republic is ruled by a senate of 66 seats. In theory, every true citizen has the right to canidate for one of the seats. In truth, only a small oligarchy can truly sustain the costs of the election campaign, and the office. The post of Senator is for life, yet assassinations and resignation due to blackmail are not unknown.
Below the Senat is the houses of voice, an assembly in each Prefecture, in which each able citizen can raise his voice to demand a motion. And while the entrence of the house is free, to stand on one of the tribune, great bribes are needed, as well as personal strength, to resist the attempts on one´s life, should the motion go against the wishes over the ones who oppose it!
Every adult Human, who has been granted the mark of the heretic, is considered a "true citizen", yet they only make up 20 percent of the whole republic. The rest is made up of Freemen, Clients and Slaves.
Humans are the most commonly found mortals in the republic. Making up all ranks of noteworthy political power, the main part of the Republican grand army, and provide the general (free) workforce, they are truly the masters of the republic. Yet only the ones with the mark of the heretic tattooed on their face are considered "true" republicans, as most don´t have this privilege. True Citizens: Men and women who where born in the republic, and were granted the Mark of the heretic after their birth. All can trace their bloodlines back to the great martyr Heretics of the past. While most of them don´t share the wealth of the upper classes, they still receive political power, and always have the right of the Ten Points. Freemen: Men and women who joined the republic after its creation, mostly human inhabitants of Nagath, seeking protection after the fall of the Dark Lord. While being free in all regards, they cant demand justice against a true Citizen, nor have they any political power. They receive the Mark of enlightenment in the halls of truth, after defying their old gods. Clients: No slaves, but close to them, Clients are considered serfs of a True Citizen, with little in terms of rights against him. Still, they cant be killed without a reason, and are seen as individuals, rather then property. Most clients are valued slaves, who earned their way into this rank. A client can be released into Freedom. They receive the Mark of Doubt, on the will of their Patron. Slaves: Human slaves are among the most common in the whole Republic. Mostly taken during slave-raids into the Justinian Imperium, or other human nations, their lot is a dark one. No rights protect them, and they can be killed without any consequences. They receive the Mark of Pain after being sold for the first time. Something, that clearly seperates the upper classes of the Republic, from the masses, is the access to refined Vesaniazium. In its pure state, it is a extremely dangerous to even touch, yet in its refined state, the process to which is a guarded secret, it is terrifyingly expensive drug. Expanding the mind, the soul and the live of its users, it is the key to become a true member of the Republican elite, and the lifeblood of its elite, just as the unrefined form is the lifeblood of the republican industry. Highly addictive, the substance can lead to a changing of once body, a process called glassing, in which begins with the eyes of the addict turning in an natural blue, before parts of the body start to crystallize. Some of the oldest senators are even no longer able to walk, as most of their bodies already have turned into a pale, light crystal, a process they describe as "enlightened".
The majority of all Greenskins in the Brass Republic are slaves. Damned to short lives in the mines or manufactoria´s, they are seen as little more then a trade good, to be transported and resold at the owners whim. Yet, there are the some who serve the republic as Mercenaries, or even Soldiers. And while they are banned from any political power, a successful Orc slave Trader can become quite wealthy and powerful in the republic. At the same time, some Goblins show a glimmer of technological talent, and find themselves as assistance, or even foreman in the manufactoria´s, a post they mostly violently abuse against their kin. Among the higher ranks of society, loyal Orc bodyguards also have become some sign of power, and are well thought after.
The world has learned to fear the sight of the black Republican ships and the cog painted on their sails. Their warriors fear no gods, hate all magic, and are driven by an almost zealous fury against all who they see as weak. But their brutal slave-raids only make up a fraction of the total slave population in the Republic. Most slaves are bought from third parties, who know that the republic needs four resources to survive. Steel, Coal, Vesaniazium and Flesh! Without it, the Republic would consume itself in short time, and break apart!
Almost every race known in the world can be found in the flesh-markets of the Republic, and to some extend, cynical people could claim that the Republic is the most diverse empire in the whole world.
The Republic upholds the idea of its founding fathers, the exiled heretics of the Society of Doubt, seeing all Gods as Tyrants and Magic as a gold chain, to keep the mortals in line. Of all gods, the God-Emperor Justinian is the most dispised and most hated, and the warriors of the repulic will miss no chance to defile his places of worship, and put his priests to the sword.
The Dark Lord Daigon is respected, and honored as "the great Teacher", who granted the exiled heretics a place to live, and eagerly supported them to understand the secrets of gunpowder, smoke and Vesaniazium. Seen as a great, and powerful mortal, rather then a god, great efforts are made, to bring him back into this world, efforts who till this day show no result, and among some are argued to be hopeless.
In the eyes of the republic, the days of magic are numbered, and a new age has began! They believe in a cold, calculated world of steel, smoke and gunpowder, rather then wood, magic and gods. A world in which no longer is a place for the weak, who cower before the shrines of tyrants gods, begging for their scraps. A world which belongs to enlightened humans, and nobody else!
[..]: Added by the Arch-heretic 1. Thou shall not bow to any god....[or suffer the presence of those who bow] 2. Thou shall not use magic, for it is a leash...[nor shall you suffer the presence of those who wear it] 3. Thou shall not believe in perfection, for it is a treacherous lie...[except the perfection you can behold in the human form] 4. Thou shall not bow to a crown, for it has no meaning in the eye of the enlightened...[but the enlightened shall put the weak on their knees] 5. Thou shall question each word, decree or idea...[except the truth of the great Teacher, the great martyr and the Arch-Heretic 6. Thou shall not hold a leash upon your fellow mortal...[yet be free to put the leash on those weak] 7. Thou shall believe in your fellow mortal, for he is thy kin...[yet you shall judge his every step without mercy] 8. Thou shall trust in all that never was alive...[for it is yours alone to form] 9. Thou shall not trust in all that once was alive...[for it has been formed by gods] 10. Thou shall fight the false God-Emperor till your last day...[and put all who follow him to the sword]
Faction Description: Faction History: TBA
Relations to other Factions:TBA
[Art: Storm by RobbieMcSweeney! No rights belong to me, just a simply touch with GIMP! Pls dont sue me!]
Faction Name: The Kellerach Clan Union Alias: Boatbreakers, Coastdogs, The Feudal 4. Government Type: Allied War Clans + Local Village Cheifs Faction Specie(s): Humans, Goblins and Orcs Species Descriptions: As described in OP.
Territory Details: The north east of the map of Nagath lies the Cursed Sea which is bordered by the Icy Kellarach Mountains and the fields of the Oni Hollow The Kellerach Mountains are homes to large and powerful frost Orcs, who have been tempered by the harsh enviroments and bitter blizzards. And the mountain gatherers, a very proud clan of human hunters who manage to forage and store food in one of the most difficult places to survive. In the brisk feilds of the Oni Hollow is home to the Ichii clan, a shadowy people who operate as assasins, ronin, warlords and religous figures. Finally near the coasts of the Hollow lies the black banks which is home to a clan of pirate goblins who constantly raid cargo boats and pillage islands to survive, they very rarely leave the northeast.
Faction Religion/Ideology: As a unified clan their religion is very diverse, the Frost Orcs pray to the goat spirits of the mountain which is known as that Krash Faith. The Gatherers also worship the Goat Spirit but have devotion to other spirit animals not recognised by the Orcs such as the Wild Boars and the Owl this is known as the New Krash Reform. The Ichii clan worship the Holy Shadow Dragon named Izaoyi. The Black Bank Goblins have no religon.
Faction Description: The Kellerach Union is made up of 4 Clans that have banded together to form a quasi-nation.
The Frost Orcs who live deep in the Kellrach Mountains
The Gatherers who live near the outer edge of the same Kellerach Mountains.
The Ichii Clan who live in the Oni Plains
The Black Bank Pirates who live on the coasts of the Oni Plains.
As very diverse and fairly recently unified faction, the Kellerach Union is an effective but shaky one. Thier government is actually comprised of 4 warlords which each represent their own Clan. Then there is a further Village chief for each settlement but since the union the cheifs dont always match the clan of the village which has mixed results. But their balance of skills and resources works extremely well. The Gatherers excel in food and construction. The Frost Orcs excel at Mining and raw military might. The Ichii clan lead in technology and information. And the Black Bank Pirates excel in seafaring and obtaining treasures. This productivity is what holds these very different clans together.
Faction History: The history of this faction is somewhat fragmented. The Union of the clans which now form the Kellerach Nation were previously quite indipendent of each other. The Ichii clan would occasionally hunt and kill rouge goblins from the black banks but only in response to a direct robbery. And the Frost Orcs historically bullied the Gatherer Men out of the mountains so they could keep the precious natural mines to themselves, but after this they generally left each other alone. All 4 factions managed to live as neighbours with icy but independent relations.
Ironically, it was outside conflict which brought them together.
For as long as anyone cared to remember the Black Bank Goblins had been running amok through the seas, mainly robbing cargo ships from Daigon Zul and the Bay of Teeth and exploring treasure coves along the northen coast of the cursed sea. This was not to last however one early morning a large fleet which would late be identified as the Regal Flotilla managed to disrupt one of the pirate raids of the goblins and very quickly and effectively destroy the unorganised pirate ships. In embarassment and fury the Black Bank Goblins sent a larger war focused fleet to not only retaliate against the flotilla but to try and regain some of the losses from their ships, only to be decimated in a more lengthy and violent naval battle.
The goblin pirates were now cowering, how could they return to the sea after two humilating defeats in the span of of 72 hours? (this would be known as the Blackest Weekend). Desperate the goblin clans approached the only other capable fighters they had contact with, the notorious Ichii clan who lived in the Oni plains. At this time the Ichii clan were not the only Ronin clan in the plains, they were at war with the equally dangerous Kagemura Clan who had been slowly whittling the Ichii numbers down and stifling their influence.
In a very shaky meeting of mutual interest, the Ichii clan told the Black Bank Goblins that they would only help their naval campain if they could provide support on the ground against their bloody turf war against the Kagemura, so they could finally rule the Oni plains as the sole clan. Now the goblins were skilled pirates but far from soldiers and knew they would stand no chance providing support against a highly skilled clan of human ronin, even with greater numbers, so they went elsewhere for help. Luckily a few goblins lived near the mountains and were able to provide a link of communication with the Frost Orcs in the heart of the Kellerach. The Frost Orcs were very skilled military fighters and had the numbers and the natural physical advantages to help the Ichii clan wipe out thier rivals. But they were isolationist and untrustworthy of pirate goblins, let alone humans. But luckily the diplomacy of the newly formed Ichii alliance proved helpful. With their moderate diplomacy skills they were able to promise more precious stones from across the sea in pirate raids and a promised increase in resources from a campaign against the regal flotilla. In exchange for these rewards the frost orcs not only joined the fight against the Kagemura but also re-opened mining trade routes to the previously exiled Gatherer clan who in turn offered to feed all other 3 clans with their massive food stockpile during the war effort.
With that battle all 4 clans became the Kellerach Clan Union and destoyed the Kagemura clan in mere weeks of battle. Now the Ichii (although still not fully recovered from the ronin war) was able to train and upgrade the Goblin's naval warfare with their highly advanced technology. Which allowed them to raid more often and successfully, and even ocassionally fight off the regal flotilla where they would encounter them. The gatherers and frost orcs continue to exchange trade routes for mining and food but all 4 clans are still somewhate shaky about their new alliance, which is held together by the Four Lords of Kellerach .
Important Characters:
The Current Four Lords Of Kellerach
Age: 22 Race: Human Bio: Natsuki Daimo is the 5th Master of the Ichii clan and one of the Four Lords of Kellerach. She became Master when the previous one (Kaigo Daimo) was killed in the Ronin War. Although young, Natsuki commands the respect of her clan as she proved her worth on the battlefield and surprisingly good diplomacy skills with the Black Bank Goblins. She is seen as cold, powerful, and somewhat cruel by the other 3 clans, but they recognise her influence of fear and respect across the oni plains and her usefulness in the Union.
Age: 38 Race: Goblin Gashbone was many pirate captains in what was known as the 'Black Guild' before the Kellerach Union. These were the most powerful and rich pirates who made decisions for the Black Bank community. Clipper was neither a skilled pirate or even a good politician, but he proved very rare goblin bravery as the first skipper to down a Regal Flotilla vessel, and was made a sort of semi legend across the Kellerach which made him the best choice to represent the Goblins as one of the Four Lords Of Kellerach. Though it should be noted that many other high ranking goblins resent him as the flotilla vessel he downed was actually a scouting ship, but he exeggerated the story before it could be debunked.
Age: 30 Race: Half-Orc Seemingly abandoned as a child, the Half Orc, Half Human was found near a mining site as an infant. Adopted by the mining company he was raised in tough conditions, smashing rocks for a living and essentially becoming a loner for his mixed blood. It was only when the war started did a teenage Hiruk take up arms and proved very effective not only on the battlefield but when it came to communicatiing and working with the other clans, especially the gatherer clan. Although the Frost Orcs resented his mixed blood, they recognised his natural leadership and made him a village chief when the union was first formed. After the mysterious assination of the Warlord Frost Orc; Kaimar Ramak (who was the orignal Orc Lord of the Union) the majoirty of frost Orcs chose the young Hiruk to take his place.
Age: 46 Race: Human Bio: Before the war that formed the Kellerach Union, Village Leader Dane Snowborn was already a diplomat, one of the few gatherers who would attempt negotiations with the frost orcs, and try to establish truces along disputed territory lines. Dane is a rare soul in Nagath, he is a good and caring person who is concerend for the survival of his people. He is skeptical of the Kellerach Union as a concept but knows its better be with them then against them. He was made as the on of the four Lords of Kellerach upon its inception vowing to not let the reckless war campaigns destory what order and civilastion they still have.
Relations to other Factions:
Kagemura Clan A now defunct ronin clan that was wiped out by the Ichii clan along with the help of the other 3 clans which lead to the Kellerach Union. History about them is very scarce and hard to verify as the information from the is almost entirely from their enemies. But they are rumored to been the indigenous people of the Oni plains and the Ichii were originally immigrants from the Daigon Zul area.
The Regal Flotilla Despite skirmishing with the flotilla for a decade and a half, the Kellerach Union knows very little about them beyond their effective naval warfare and ability to occasionally disrupt a pirate raid. The Black Bank Goblins most want to see the flotilla completely wiped out. While calmer voices in the lords such as the Gatherers think that fighting such a powerful enemy so far out of their own territory is stupid.
Justinian Empire Unlike most factions in Nagath, the Kellerach is almost completely removed from the dealings of the empire. Since all four clans have essentially been kept into the mostly frozen wasteland corner of the world they resent the 'kingland' and want nothing to do with it. They only want free reign of the sea, but the Ichii clan are aware as they grow in influence they may have to confront the empire sooner or later....
The only accepted Species in the Realm of a thousand hands are the Hou Sun, noblest of all the beastmen, as they call themselves. The Hou Sun are monkeymen, a bit shorter than your average human, covered in fur on most of body and possessing a prehensile tail. Where most of the other races have feet or hooves the Hou Sun have hands, perfect for navigating their tree and mountaintop fortresses. Hou Sun live together in huge families in which the individuals only duty is to the community and the prestige of his family.
Territory
The mountains of hands are among the highest mountain ranges on the continent. The are mostly covered in dense woods and foliage, making them a very difficult place to navigate.
Faction Religion/Ideology: "When the land was still young and empty the sky and the earth fell in love. The gazed upon each other every day, knowing they can never touch. But one day the earth stretched out, creating the mountains of hands. The highest of them, the Tiantang or heavenly hand, dared to touch the midsummer sky. And for the first time, the earth and the sky could finally touch each other. When the sky and the earth loved each other, their love created a child. Hou, the first monkey, noblest and wisest of all the races. All Hou Sun are his descendens."
The Hou Sun have a strong tradition of ancestor worship, with the Hou, or the first monkey, having a nearly godlike position and small shrines all over the kingdom of hands. The revered ancestors are also seen as role models for the living and important figures in Sun Banfa. Sun Banfa is the way of the heavenly. A very abstract concept, almost every Hou Sun will give a different definition. Followers of the way strive to achieve perfection in their own lives no matter what their profession may be. A warrior should strive to be the best fighter, while a carpenter should built the best furniture. The Hou Sun believe that there is equal glory in all places and professions. A downside from this is that the Hou Sun do not tolerate failure. Since the Hou Sun believe the Sun Banfa to be the supreme way to live, the might also try to influence the world to serve it. A small number of Hou Sun try themselves as missionaries and a slightly bigger number as diplomats and assassins, bribing, influencing or simply murdering people who seem to stand in the path of Sun Banfa.
Faction Description: The Heavenly Kingdom of a Thousand Hands, or how most outsiders call it, The Kingdom of Hands, is a reclusive enclave of the Hou Sun. Not trading or interacting much with what the call "The primitive races", the Hou Sun could all be ignored but most other realms. However the shoul not be. The The Heavenly Kingdom of a Thousand Hands is a realm in which every resident strives for perfection. Their warriors, even though small in number are incredibly deadly with bow and spear, and every army that dares to attack them in their homeland of trees and mountains has already lost. The Heavenly Kingdom of a Thousand Hands is ruled by the Sun Gouwan, The Heavenly King and the Sun Shou, The Ten Heavenly Hands. While the King is the supreme authority the ten heavenly hands are five powerful mages and elders of important families.
The Regal Flotilla is, for all intents and purposes, a feudal empire. At its top reigns the Pureblood Empress, who is simultaneously the captain of the flotilla’s flagship, the Tiamath. Under her, the captains of every other major vessel within the fleet also bear a title of nobility, varying in rank; from kings to barons, everything is represented. Some of these people are indeed nobility from landed houses, others have been made noble through the empress’s authority, who herself has not been born under any noble house that the Justinian Empire would recognize – or any at all, for that matter.
Faction Species
The vast majority of the Regal Flotilla is made up of humans, though being a collective of slaves and wayward seamen, other species have found their way into the mix as well, such as the occasional beastman or orc.
Territory Details
The Flotilla has no actual land-based holdings directly under their control, although they do have significant leverage over some independent, coastal city-states, particularly along the Cursed coast. Being a purely mobile force, thus, they are flexible and nomadic. From a military perspective, this is useful as it makes them impossible to besiege like stationary settlements and castles, while at the same time affording them great reach and speed to strike almost anywhere with access to a coast. On the other hand, from an economical stand point, it puts a great strain on the fleet, which has almost no ways to produce anything of value to speak of. Fishery is thriving amongst the flotilla, but as for the rest, pillaging and trading (for pillaged goods) is their only way of supplying themselves.
Faction Religion/Ideology
On the importance of blood and purity
Within the Regal Flotilla, a person’s worth is measured almost entirely by the nobility and purity of their blood. It is believed that authority – and the power and wisdom that legitimize it – can only be gained through an unbroken and refined lineage. Any blemish in one’s legacy, such as a bastard in one’s ancestry, or the union between a noble person and a commoner, tarnishes not only one’s reputation, but damns all of one’s descendents for generations. For this reason, every captain seeks to parent an heir that is as pure, if not purer than themselves. To accomplish this, they look towards lying with some other noble from the fleet or, if need be, their own family (cousins, siblings, even offspring). Marriage doesn’t exist in the flotilla; no such romantic bindings are deemed necessary. Some may choose to live with a partner, others choose more than one partner, others still lay with whom they please and when. It should also be mentioned that only one heir is strictly needed to succeed any one captain; when their lineage is secured, they can afford impure children and simply disown, banish or kill them.
In a society so focused on the purity of a person’s birth, it comes as no surprise that the ideal of all is someone with the title of Pureblood Empress. Nobody truly knows who – or indeed, what – she is. Possessed of unnatural physical features, she has ruled the flotilla for well over a century and still appears as if within her teens or twenties. The greatest gift she can bestow upon a male captain, thus, is the offer to lay with her. Any child that can trace its lineage back to her enjoys the highest of privileges. She embodies everything the peoples of the flotilla have been taught to aspire towards, and they almost worship her as a deity – or a false idol, if the clerisy were asked.
Faction Description
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Faction History
In a time long forgotten, before there was Justinian, before there was Daigon – perhaps, before there was even man, there lived a race of elevated beings, pale, slender and tall. In this primordial age, they were the lords of all creation and molded the world to their whims. It is thought that they came very near to understanding a fundamental truth about reality itself, knowledge which would have thrust them into a new childhood. Only, they never made it this far and instead faced extinction when they were on the precipice of immortality. Perhaps it was a mistake or perhaps it was a voluntary choice. Maybe they understood that annihilation would be merciful compared to what the future promised. Whatever the truth may be, these graceful beings disappeared from the face of Geryon, leaving behind little in terms of relics or ruins, except for one machine, embedded in ice.
A dark wind blows from the north, beyond the icy waters that limit Nagath’s northward expanse. In this land, life is hard to come by, but that which lives there is of a sturdy, violent sort. Only the apex predators can thrive in this land where warmth can only be found in the blood of enemies slain and basked in. Men live there too, furtive and huddled in thick pelt. Sinister men, who have seen much but tell little, and what little they do tell terrifies outsiders with its monstrous implications. It is no surprise that men of the north are of a skittish sort, for they have learned how to adapt and live, even as prey. When, from afar, they hear the rumbling groan of an inhuman throat reverberate through the ice and rattling their bones, they know to seek sheltered shadows. Long ago, a dead god slept beneath the frozen water, and even in those days, they knew to avoid this temporary tomb. All that changed when, a century ago, the dead god awoke and was dead – no more. Now it haunts the crystallized oceans in search of prey, howling as no terrestrial being does and leading a fleet of doomed ships, enthralled by a monster from another world.
No man can claim to know Justinian’s goals, but none dare question him. When he sent an expedition of mystics and scholars, led by an esteemed high inquisitor, they simply bowed their heads and followed orders. None of them truly knew what the journey would entail, but they knew it was important. Twenty learned scholars, men all, underwent the trek east towards the Sea of Curses. Worn and cold, they traversed the frozen sea in mid winter, headed for some nebulous point of interest somewhere in the middle of the ocean. Many questioned the utility of their quest, but when they finally laid eyes upon the frost-wreathed corpse of an iron worm, all doubt died like hope in a leper colony. This was a tomb, avoided by animals and men alike, but the Justinian mystics hurled themselves at the metal carcass like vultures, pecking at it and dissecting it. They hadn’t been told what they would find, but they had all been chosen because of their reckless, inquisitive natures. And maybe, the other consequences had also been foreseen; one cannot ever know how much Justinian truly plans for. It is a fact, however, that the expedition had never been heard from again, except for a single survivor who returned shaken and broken – but alive, and clutching an artifact of indeterminable age and importance. The expedition, so he said, resulted in failure, a disaster by all means except for the fortuitous retrieval of this relic. The news was less than appealing, but it was enough. It was deemed sufficient. Justinian almost certainly knew it was a lie, but if he did, he did not let on.
The truth of what happened, however, would forever remain burnt into the inquisitor’s mind like a slave brand. Twenty scholars descended into the lightless bowels of the mechanical worm, fumbling their way across walls that felt like the inside of a digestive tract – and feeling just as vulnerable as if it were one. Near the aft segments of the great vessel, they found an unwholesome chamber that evoked panic in many and sent them upwards, trembling, gasping for fresh air. The chamber was circular in nature, with floors and walls that were somehow sectioned by protruding ribs, or perhaps thick veins, embedded in the metal. They too formed a circular pattern that guided the eye’s attention towards the centerpiece of the room: a great, shallow, golden bowl formed from dozens, perhaps hundreds of individually modeled hands reaching out from the ground, fitting together so neatly that they formed a smooth surface. The hands were, mostly, human in nature, although some were bizarre in their proportions. Cupped inside the bowl lay a man-sized cocoon; desiccated, shriveled, about ready to turn to dust. A myriad of fleshy tubes protruded from the membranous shell, extending outwards to the extremities of the chamber where, seated in a circle around the enigmatic egg sat over two dozen dried up corpses, bearing similarities to unraveled mummies. Skin dry and hard, a fossilized layer over mere bones. The tubes bore into what remained of their bodies, draining them even now of necrotic nutrients in a desperate struggle to stay alive. Their appearance was humanoid, save in their size – they towered easily above the scholars, even in their shrunken, deceased state. In life, they must have been twice as tall as any of them. Few dared even hazard a guess as to the purpose of this chamber, and whether or not whatever had transpired here had succeeded. At least it was agreed upon that the cocoon, against all odds, was alive, if barely. It was also agreed that they should attempt to finish what the dead ones started, for they had no answers anymore. The cocoon, on the other hand, might hatch new insights.
It was quickly discerned that blood was the medium. The tubes, after all, had served their purpose in draining the donors of blood, and the cocoon had reacted positively to the influx of fresh blood. Further tests soon revealed that it would take vast quantities – much more than the scholars could give, or were willing to. Fortunately, blood was not a rarity in an empire as vast and powerful as Justinian’s, and an outrider was sent to gather aid. Within a month or two, throngs of prisoners and slaves were herded towards the iced tomb, lambs being guided to the slaughterhouse. They were butchered by the dozens, bleeding over the cocoon, bleeding into the cocoon, gorging it on blood until it welled and bloated and flourished. What had been a shriveled, sticky clump weeks ago quickly turned into a pulsating, puffy bladder. Man after man was sacrificed, and the scholars found themselves becoming more familiar with the art of butchery than the more studious subjects. They could not even fathom anymore how many natural laws they were violating with their perverse undertaking.
One day, most lost count of how many it took, the moment finally came upon them. The chrysalis, pumped with warm blood, had finally matured and popped open with a sickening slosh. The balloon-like membrane collapsed in upon itself, embracing the contour of a young adult human being. Dripping with gore, a strikingly attractive girl crawled out of the organic mess that had cradled her for untold eons. Wide, red eyes stared at the collected, baffled assembly. It was difficult to say which side was more confused. Tentative attempts at communicating with this astral child were made, but availed nothing. The scholars were ecstatic nonetheless; a discovery such as this had not been made in centuries. Whoever – whatever – this creature was, it could change the lives of everyone. Their names would be eternalized in great books, their deeds sung about in a thousand years. None would begrudge them the many dozen lives – a paltry sum – offered upon the altar of progress. They’d understand.
But none would ever hear their names. The moment they set foot on the Tiamath was the moment they ceased existing. It was, after all, a tomb. But it was theirs. There was a sudden shift in the hatchery, as if everyone assembled had become instantly and acutely aware of some ill omen that promised nothing but death. Death, however, was the last thing on anyone’s mind. The scholars, learned men all, did not even have enough time to fathom what it was that washed over them. A form of sorcery? A parasitic disease? A gas in the air? The time for professionalism and speculation ended abruptly when the hallucinations set in. Tiamath warped from its cold, alien, dark metal bowels to wondrous new shapes and smells and sounds previously invisible to the human senses, all of them pleasant. The skies were fair. The trees charming. The exotic birds captivating. The dewy woodland smell enticing. But there was only one thing of true beauty: a fragile little angel with skin like snow and eyes like rubies. The mere sight of her turned all other sights immediately irrelevant. Consciousness receded into the dark corner where it once lurked in an older time, when humans were more accustomed to shouting and killing. With the self withering away, the primal id resurged, like some primordial monstrosity unchained after millions of years in captivity. A slavering, drooling beast whose entire focus was on her. Hence dormant desires awoke with a dark passion as men returned whence they came.
It was a sight to evoke disgust in even the most primitive of animals. Even orcs, even beastkin, even feral dogs had enough empathy to retch at the sight of about thirty mindless and unclothed men tearing at and violating the cosmic newborn with reckless lust and abandon. The sight was too much to bear for the high inquisitor, who narrowly escaped the primitive darkness in his brain through sheer power of will. It was also too much for Phoebe; one of the half dozen slaves present in the chamber just in case. The cosmic aura invaded her mind also, but awoke different instincts, the kind that protects and nurtures instead of destroying. She felt nothing but pure love for the heavenly being that was being raped to death before her very eyes. Something dark and primitive awoke in her, too, then. Men and women, again, returned to shouting and killing. Monstrous screams reverberated from the rounded, metal walls, echoing over and over as they layered above the crunching noise of broken fingers smashing broken skulls on harder surfaces. When the noise died down, and the Tiamath returned to being as quiet as it had not been in weeks, the hatchery was covered in broken bodies, skin burst open with great lacerations, limbs bent in ways that evoked pain simply by looking at them. Fragments of bone and pools of gore collected in little niches in the floor. And at the center of it all, a shivering, blood splattered angel was cradled in loving arms by another women, black with caked blood of her own and of others.
Only a handful of slaves, mercifully absent from the slaughter below deck, and their captors survived. Phoebe was technically still their prisoner, but nobody had it in them to lay a hand on the woman who had killed more than all of them combined with her bare hands and teeth. It was something in her posture, in her eyes, that made even stern warriors flinch. They knew not why it happened, but their subconscious did. It saw in those merciless eyes the stare of a predator, a monster from a time we left behind long ago. The subconscious remembered man’s role in the game of hare and hunter in those days: It was prey. The cosmic infant was kept safely below deck, the hatchery having turned into an impromptu larder, filled with human meat that remained edible for weeks when exposed to the glacial cold. There would be no shortage for a while. Phoebe instructed – warned – anyone from approaching the child. Claimed that she had become inoculated against her presence, but that others would lose their minds. She was unaware that her mind had already become something alien. For the time being, she acted as the child’s mother, teacher and leader of what people remained on the Tiamath. Now that the scholars were dead, nobody truly knew what to do anymore. The way home to the empire was denied them by a vicious blizzard that would rage for weeks. The armed personnel remaining had no agenda. Some were sellswords, even. Without direction, they were simply itching for something to do, somebody to fight. When boredom turned to restlessness, and restlessness to aggression, groups of warriors went out under the cover of snowstorms to hunt for animals or, if they saw a flicker of light in the distance, hunt for loot. Not all who left also returned; the dark winter claimed lives indiscriminately and without mercy.
Weeks became months, and men began to forget that there was anything at all beyond the barrier of snow and ice. The great worm was their home now and slowly a symbiosis between parasite and host developed. It sheltered them from the cold and nurtured dark dreams. They began restoring the venerable machine to its former glory, freeing it of the ice, greasing what little machinery they dared touch in their ignorance. By springtime only the vessel’s underside was still encrusted in thousand-year-old ice. Phoebe had grown weak; her broken knuckles hadn’t healed properly, her eyes had sunken farther into their sockets, her hair had begun to fall out. She spoke little now; she wouldn’t see the next winter. Wouldn’t see her daughter ascend into godhood. Wouldn’t see the end of everything. She couldn’t prevent the rest of the crew from catching glimpses – or sometimes visiting – the future empress anymore. She disapproved still, snarled sometimes, but they were weak and pointless protests of a mother coming to terms with a daughter who was coming of age. The young empress had grown independent and clever. Spoke the language of men within a season, could walk and feed herself. And she was growing. By the time the snowstorms subsided, she was already the tallest person aboard the Tiamath.
By the time summer was approaching, and supply stocks (even those in human meat) became empty, everyone had sworn their undying loyalty and love to the cosmic child. By this time, Phoebe had been laid to rest. It was also by this time that the young empress discovered other parts of the ship and that some until-then dormant part of her mind remembered things from a previous life, recollections of a dead species. She remembered how her ancestors (or was it her, in a previous life?) operated this tomb – this ship, as it turned out. Nestled in one of the largest segments of the Tiamath, she found a kind of throne, although calling it that was perhaps implying something grander than the truth. The seat – inseparable from floor and wall, having grown out of them like an organic tumor – was a device that made any torture instrument in a dungeon look downright pleasant. Flexible wires, lined with thick needles, coiled everywhere around it. Merely approaching the throne caused jolts of excitement to run through these vines, the tendrils moving autonomously as if alive. The young empress was still a little bit short for the seat, but it would do. Fearing no pain that the Tiamath could inflict upon her, she seated herself on the cold metal and closed her eyes. All around her, she heard the intimidating scraping of steel on steel as the tendrils stretched and flexed and – finally – embraced her flesh, deep nails digging into her veins. With a passionate scream, girl and machine became as one and for the first time in untold eons, the world trembled again under the loud, deep and ominous roar of a dark machine that fed on flesh and blood. Tiamath awoke and broke free of the ice.
And so began the rumors of a black serpent appearing from the depths of the sea. An old snake that could bite its own tail and encircle the world, a poisonous demon that would kill and be killed by a great hero one day. The first sign of the end of the world. Superstitious men sharpened their blades and honed their skills for the ultimate test, when gods, beasts and men would clash one final time.
Merchants have no time for foolhardy rumors of impossible sea creatures. The Swift, the Maiden and the Jubilant, three trading carracks accompanied by a pair of military vessels, were on their way along the Cursed coastline to seek trade with the Brass Republic. It was the outlook for the Fierce, a moderately armed galleon and the larger of the two military ships, which first spotted the slithering, black tendril forcing its way across the briny waves from the north. The more fearful and gullible sailors bewailed their fate, offered prayer to whichever gods they thought they wronged before being disciplined by more strong-willed seamen and officers. The vessels took up formation, training their cannons in the direction of the approaching darkness, anticipating when it would be within optimal range. Lookouts reported the sighting of men on the creature’s back, but their words were received with doubt. Once the serpent crossed the threshold, undeterred by the many barrels facing its way, each of them fired in tandem, dozens upon dozens of hot, heavy cannon balls flying through the air. Only, they were built for destroying wooden hulls; the rounds that hit the Tiamath rebounded uselessly off its hull with a dull plonk. A dark roar, as if escaped from the depths of hell itself, shook the waves and hearts of men in reply to the attack. Frantic hands reloaded cannons, polished barrels, supplied gunpowder. No amount of cannonfire could abate the inexorable approach of this primordial monster, and the Fierce was the first to fall when the grand wedge at the Tiamath’s bow rammed into the galleon’s side, splitting the ship in two. The small fleet, once organized, was now as a herd of sheep with a wolf in their midst. This wolf, however, had harpoons on all sides firing hard, iron tethers into its prey. Escape had become futile and every ship was dragged towards the black hull of their nemesis, which glowed with an otherworldly purple sheen in the sunlight. It wasn’t until now that men realized that indeed, they were not facing a monster at all, but a ship. Somehow, that realization made it all the more terrible and frightening.
The Tiamath’s crew, hardened by Geryon’s coldest winter and weeks of eating human meat, met their quarry with stern confidence and a proposal of parley. The poorly armed men agreed and a small contingent of them was allowed on board the ancient warship. The captains were allowed to meet with the young empress at a safe distance – experience had taught her loyal warriors that ten to fifteen meters, depending on the wind, was sufficient to avoid her strange aura, or at least notice it early enough to get away. The empress’s terms were simple enough: Leave all cargo with the Tiamath and go free, or join her fledgling empire and share the goods. A total loss of cargo would ruin them, resistance was futile. It only left them with one option, the hope that this “empire” could somehow sustain them, make them independent. It was a weak hope, but one they would have to nurture. When the empress nudged them closer, within ten meters, all doubt was erased from their minds and the flotilla was born.
In this fashion, the Regal Flotilla continued to gather followers and supplies. Sometimes they would visit harbors to trade in valuables for greater necessities. Especially in these early days, the flotilla was very mobile, visiting lands to the south as much as in the north. They picked up ships from cultures far and wide, each in turn losing its independence to their unending desire for a cosmic goddess given flesh. Over the years, she gradually came to embrace and adopt the idea of enforcing an order of nobility upon the fleet, none questioned why. Few people questioned anything she said anymore. When she said that she wanted to be an empress, and that her followers would be kings, dukes, marquises and other such titles, they simply played their part. It would take decades until this initially superficial game of roleplaying became an earnest belief, and some more until it turned into degenerate decadence. Captains came and went, generations living and dying aboard wooden ships. No amount of seasons could mar the empress’s beauty or diminish her vitality. Her children were myriad; the first dozen or two being strange and misshapen, often stillbirths. But eventually they became more human, appealing and intelligent. They lived on various ships, guiding and administrating them, extensions of her will. After her fortieth child she became more selective in her partners and chose to surround herself with eunuchs to avoid any unnecessary liaisons. From these, she formed the Council of Six, as well as the Pale Guard. The former served as her representatives on the outside, while the latter represented an elite vanguard to protect her and the flagship at all times. From this moment on she chose only the strongest and smartest to father her children, and encouraged the other ships to nurture those traits in their own bloodlines. Nowadays – a hundred years after the flotilla’s inception – the fleet, or at least the flagship, tend to haunt only the northernmost waters in due to the Tiamath’s aversion to warmer climates. Still, smaller fleets are sent out into the world on occasion to scour for loot, profitable trade and valuable genes.
Important Characters
132
Relations to other Factions
[include any off-map NPC nations that are relevant to your factions history]---
List of Ships
[This list is ever-expanding as the story goes on and more ships are introduced]
Tiamath
Class: Icebreaker Dreadnaught Length: 216,6 m Width: 23,7 m (Average) Propulsion: Underside Flaps Armament: 80 ballistae with harpoons and reeling system Special Traits: Heavy Prow Wedge, Flexile, Terror Siren
Far to the north, beyond the reaches of the frozen sea, ancient natives tell tales of a great, ebon worm wreathed in ice, dead but dreaming. When news came of the worm’s awakening, most of the elders went mad and died of fright. The Tiamath is a ship only in the vaguest sense of the word; more aptly described, it is a mechanical, steel monstrosity that haunts the Sea of Curses like a primordial monster.
Eleven segments, each separated by a flexible section, allow the lengthy vessel to bend and coil like a snake. Every segment covers the flexile piece behind it with three fin-like outcroppings, and is crowned with a large, dorsal spine that bends in elegant and terrifying ways. The outer hull of the ship shows no obvious seams or bolts; it’s as if every segment, or perhaps the entire vessel, were cast from a single mold. But the outer hull is anything but smooth – it is gnarly and warped, like old tree bark or welting skin. Metal that looks as if exposed to a volcano before being allowed to thaw. Under the waves, on the Tiamath’s ventral hull, is a long series of rudder-like flaps, arranged in a chain from bow to stern. These represent the vessel’s propulsion system; by rhythmically snapping these flaps, water underneath the ship gets moved similar to how a series of oars would move a ship.
Turreted ballistae line the Tiamath’s deck, firing harpoons at whales and enemy ships both, only to reel them in with a robust crank system and sturdy chains. To amplify the effect, the ship can bend in a half-circle around its target, allowing it to train up to half of its weaponry on the target. Nothing could escape binding by up to forty harpoons. Whales that are dragged in can be lifted onto the deck with the help of a crane, whereas enemy vessels could be pelted with burning pitch, grenades, or simply boarded. In addition to its ballistae, the Tiamath’s prow is equipped with a scratched, dented and extremely thick wedge that is not only good at cutting through ice floes, but also at ramming lighter vessels (which would include practically every ship on Geryon). Last but not least of the weapons, if indeed that is its purpose, is the dreadful noise that the ship makes every once in a while, in particular upon engaging enemies. It lets out a long, vibrating, drawn-out growling, similar to the sound of a large, old horn but twisted by a nightmare. In clear weather, the sound can be heard for a few miles and shakes the very bones in one’s body in a radius of one mile. For the flotilla, it is a resounding warcry; for outsiders, it is a farewell dirge.
The four named regions are human kingdoms which were established in an ongoing effort through the centuries to pacify the tribes and bring the light of civilization to the area. I imagine they are all relatively young, with Artova being the oldest. Population of the kingdoms (not counting my nomads) would be the descendants of a combination of colonists from the west and pacified tribes integrated into civilization. Beyond the kingdoms themselves, I figure there are a few city-states scattered here and there, mainly along the Cursed Coast.
Religion of the kingdoms is a weird mix of Justinianism with old tribal faiths and customs, with the latter being more common the further east you go. By all means the kings themselves and most of the upper classes claim Justinianism as their faith, but on ground level things often look different.
The kingdoms closer to the Justinian Empire tend to view these fringe kingdoms as somewhat backwards and barbarous, despite them being a lot more civilized than anything else in the area.
The area also has a strong tradition of horsemanship as a result of their interactions (and integration) with the Yaksha people who inhabited the region since before the time of Daigon's fall.
- Tribes are subjects of Daigon, but they break free during the war against the Demon King under the leadership of the hero Amur-Yaksha. From him, the people get their current name.
- Amur-Yaksha managed to break his people free from Daigon, but it cost him his life. Amur's many sons fought among themselves over who should lead, but the fighting was inconclusive and the tribes scattered. Many were driven north, to a harsh land beyond Nagath. The rest thrived in the plains of the north-east, but fought often among themselves.
- Driven by Justinian ideology, client kingdoms in the bay area of the Cursed Sea pushed east in an effort to civilize the land and bring the human tribes under their wings. (Maybe call this something cool like "the [Insert Area Name] Crusades" or something. Is "crusade" as a term applicable to Justinianism?) Settlers settled and wars were waged, the tribes ever thinning as their disunity was exploited. Kingdoms rose, and tribes fell. Those that remained were confined to the cold north of the peninsula.
- The squabbling tribes, realizing their predicament, finally put their blood-feuds aside and united against the common foe. In a final effort, they launched a war on the kingdoms, but they were already too diminished to succeed. Their leader fell in battle.
- Their old leader's son was chosen to lead them, despite his young age. In the cold of winter, he led them north, crossing the frozen straits of the Cursed Sea. They were lost to the eyes of civilization, and the kings along the Cursed Sea thought themselves finally rid of the tribal pest. But on the thirtieth winter he returned, leading a great host that quickly overwhelmed the unprepared kingdoms.
- The March Kingdoms of the west were quick to raise their armies in response and marched east to meet this new threat, but found themselves ill prepared for the Yaksha's way of war, which the kings often denounced as cowardly. The tribes had ill luck in pitched battle against a prepared and technologically superior foe, but found great success in surprise raids and scorched earth tactics, sapping the enemy morale and killing through attrition. It was as if they were chasing ghosts, the entirely mounted Yaksha army impossible to catch. Denied supplies and with winter approaching, the armies were forced to retreat, and the Yaksha horsemen harassed them the entire march home. The expedition was a complete failure, despite the kings winning the only real battle.
- An uneasy peace settled in, where the Yaksha found themselves unsuccessful in conquering more and the Justinian kingdoms unable to take back what had been lost. Raids across the borders were common from both sides, but for now the kingdoms were content to lick their wounds while the Yaksha worked on consolidating their power and claiming the vast plains along the Cursed Coast for their people from the beastkin that had come to inhabit it. The conquered kingdoms were allowed some autonomy in return for regular tribute, and provided they behaved well (that is, they accepted Yaksha garrisons in their fortified cities to keep an eye on things) they were mostly left to their own devices.
- Things settled in for a few years, and the Khan died. Another took his place, who followed the policies of his father and ruled the obedient with an open hand and the disobedient with a closed fist. The privileges of the kings eroded away until they were kings only in name. The peasants grew accustomed to this new way of life, and a new generation grew up under Yaksha rule.
- The Khan dies. Another takes his place, this one intent on ruling his settled subjects rather than merely allowing them to exist. The time for reform has come.
And this is roughly where my people are at the start of the RP, I figure. I'm not entirely sure how far into his reforms my new ruler is, but we're at a time when the Yaksha and the settled people are getting somewhat used to each other. There has in the past been violent rebellions and to them even more violent responses, but such things are more rare these days - even if tensions still exist. His goal is to rule more directly over the conquests and turn it into more of a state and less of a big tribe with a bunch of tributaries.
As for religion I'm still not sure what the tribal faiths are actually like, beyond that we worship Shar, the creator of humans (mentioned in the Red Empire's sheet) in some shape or form. We're big fans of our ancestors as well. Oh, and we don't like Daigon, and we probably don't like these Worm Cult guys either, but tbh I don't know a lot about them yet.
Faction name: Arkanath's Oathbearers Alias: Arkanath's Sworn, the bone lords Government type: Magnocracy/Theocracy. Arkanath's Oathbearers are led by the Scarlet Prophets. A council of mighty, shaman-like individuals. Each holding command over several tribes and participate in rituals. Below them are the Tribe Chieftains. Each governing their own tribe. Chieftains can appoint tribe lords to act as vassals. Faction species: Arkanath's Oathbearers welcomes any and all creatures. From the sneakiest goblin to the most lumbering beastmen. That is, they accept them as slaves mostly. Which is the main population status among Arkanath's Oathbearers. Among the Warrior-caste, the variation is still great. Minotaurs, humans, orcs, some goblins (who proved exceptionally proficient with rusty blades) all count among the freemen ready to fight. Higher up in the ranks variation starts to thin. As requirements to lead a tribe generally involve not splitting every man that disagrees with you in half. Thus more higher up you'll find mostly orcs, humans and some more intelligent beastmen.
Faction Religion: Arkanath's Oathbearers believe that the world was born from Iliath, the goddess of death and life, and Arkanath, the god of peace and war. Their eternal presence created many children. Like Eiley, the Sun-God and Namu, his sister: the Moon. Even the Earth was a child of theirs: Eygun. But the greatest of their children was Daigon. The God of Kings. He ruled over all his brothers and sisters and kept his throne in Nagath. The most prosperous land in the world. The Sky, Ayligha, kept her promise and made a paradise for her parents high in the heavens. From which they could watch their children.
When the two primordial gods retreated from the world, peace and prosperity kept reigning. But then Justinian came along. Initially, Justinian was nothing but a human servant of the Sun-God, Eiley. Yet he grew greedy as Eiley was generous with gifts. In secret, Justinian started taking the gifts from other servants. With their power, he forged the most hated object in the world. An artifact that, according to legend, Eygun itself would not swallow. Justinian called it Equilibrium. He used the scepter on Eiley and siphoned half of his divine essence. The heavily weakened Sun-God fled towards the Heavens together with his twin sister: Namu. Where they remain to this day. The Moon, tending to the Sun's wounds.
But Justinian's lust for power was not yet sated. He marched to Nagath, demanding an audience with Daigon. The God of Kings marched out in full, black armor. Ready to cast asunder the False God. Initially, his brothers and sisters offered their help. Yet Daigon was sure of his own power. He did prevail, but when he turned his back on a cast down Justinian, the False God stabbed Daigon with Equilibrium. Siphoning the God of Kings' power. With it, Justinian was now more powerful than any other god. With a swift strike, he killed Daigon and his followers flooded into Daigon's Citadel. Bringing carnage and war to Daigon's people.
When Justinian retreated, preparing to hunt down the other gods in a bid for power, Arkanath himself descended from his heavenly home. Above him, in the skies, his wife cried laminations. The father bid Eygun take his brother. Eygun did as asked and rose a mountain to be used as a tomb for his brother. In the meantime, Iliath's tears turned Nagath sour. In her sadness, death started prevailing over life. Arkanath came back from the mountain, only to find Daigon's Legion in deep, painful mourning. With a fury, he whipped the mortals into shape again. With a demand for vengeance, he made them all cry out in hatred. Then he personally blessed every single survivor. If they swore to extract vengeance upon Justinian or any of his followers, then Arkanath himself would bless them.
The Culling - A crude, raider's ritual. Warlords can choose to either take all prisoners as slaves or give some the chance to become freemen among his troops. If they chose the later, a Culling takes place. Which is meant to root out those not strong enough, in either body or mind, to survive. A handful of people, generally from the same village and preferably from the same family, are thrown into a makeshift arena. Either a pit or a circle of cheering warriors. With them, there is one weapon. Mostly it's a club or a rusty dagger. The last one standing is allowed to join Arkanath's Oathbearers as a freeman. Though he is meant to look after himself then. Meaning he still needs to acquire his own food, his own slaves (which is considered pivotal in surviving as an Oathbearer) and his own weapons.
While the culling can be considered a hotbed for traitors among the Oathbearers, most seem to feel that they have no way back or no reason to return to Justinianism. Those recently through a Culling have a battle of faith. After that, they have a more physical battle achieve means for survival. Eventually, they are as much a Freeman as any other. If not more, as their feverish, converted belief often burns even brighter.
Giftbegging Sacrifice - For ages the Freemen of Arkanath's Oathbearers, from the seafarers to the horse masters, each begged the favor of Daigon or some other god. Many travel far and wide to find a Waystone. One of the holy stones that litter the coast and the Ashen Plains. Sometimes these obelisks are circled by other stones. Or sometimes they stand in solitude, utterly random. Warlords and warriors alike bring gifts. Arkanath demands are steepest: Justinians, blood, and bones. Warriors seeking his gifts deliver slaves from raids, cast down the charred bones of warriors, Justinian and other Nagathian dwellers alike, and fight bloody duels before the Waystones. Others seek the favor the Godess of Fear herself. So she would instill their enemies with a heart-shattering dread. Though she does not care for blood or bones. She wants the Justinian women and girls. So they can suffer as she does. She wants the scrolls talking about other kingdoms, far in the East and West. Assuring her that her children still live.
Warlords generally give entire feasts around a certain, or a group, of Waystones. Begging the favor of the many gods but mostly of the Primordials. Leaving everything from food to slaves. When they return, they once more deliver sacrifice to the same Waystones. This time in the shape of bones, blood, and weapons. After that, they leave the Waystones. After several years they return. The slaves are gone and the food too. The bones, however, are pale bleached in the sun and seemingly fused together by an unknown force. The metal from the weapons and armor is fused together. Making powerful arms and protection. Nobody knows for sure who leaves these gifts. Nobody knows how they are made. But all believe it are the divine servants of Arkanath that made these gifts from the sacrifices.
Faction Description: There are only two states of citizenship within Arkanath's Forsworn: slave of a freeman. Slaves are the largest among the population. Many still carry a chain around their neck to mark them. There is no discrimination among the slaves. That is, even minotaurs can be taken as slaves. These slaves are generally taken from surrounding villages. Either from Justinian's Marches or from the East. Even wanderers through the Ashen Plains are not safe. These slaves are in charge from all civilian duties. From fishing and sowing to mending cloths. There is a sole exception on their duties and that is forging steel. Which is deemed too important for them and is generally done by the Freemen.
The Freemen are generally those born from Freemen. They have the right to take and hold slaves, work metal and many other things. Basically, they can do almost anything. Though many have the duty to march into war. Which they do with excited glee. While slaves are used to tend to the day to day livelihood, Freemen fill their days by constant battle. Hardening themselves for the next rain up the Imperium's March Kingdoms. Slaves can become Freemen through 2 ways. A chieftain, upon plundering and looting a village, can start a ritual called the culling. Basically, families are thrown in a makeshift ring when captured. With one heavy rock in the middle of it. The last person of the family standing is allowed to become a Freeman. Though those that do generally are a little "tweaked". Another way for a slave to become a Freeman is also through combat. After their capture, if their master allows it, a slave can engage in arena battles. Commonly setup for the amusement of other Freemen. Lowly arena battles are basically fistfights. Though the higher up you go, the more exotic they become. Chieftains would allow their slaves simple weapons. Arena fights hosted by a Bloody Prophet could feature trained slaves. Fights between Prophets could get so exotic they feature dangers animals to fight the strongly armed gladiators. Winning slaves can be traded for higher prices though are also a source or prestige and renown (there are Freemen that dedicate themselves entirely to the training of slaves).
Chieftains generally co-operate at a limited base, organizing raids against the marches. Which is considered the main source of income of Arkanath's Oathbearers. Some raids are more successful than others and the most successful ones can turn into strong crusades becoming a real threat. Especially when blessed by more than one Bloody Prophet.
The northern are considered fair seafarers. As they can fight the waves on a daily basis. The Ashen Plains generally host the horse master tribes. For whom constant movement is critical to their survival and generally roam as nomadic tribes. The Ashen Plains and the Northern Coast are generally dotted by stone circles and monoliths. Used as markers and places of worship.
Faction history: WIP
Important characters:
Name: Neithranough of Megnainu. Alias: Burning Warlord Title: Bloody Prophet Character description: Neithranough is the recent and greatest thread to everything Justinian. As a Bloody Prophet, he can command several tribes to do his bidding. With every day passing, his fame grows within the Oathbearers, meaning other tribes and even chieftains will choose to join him.
Neithranough was born 37 years ago among the Horse-tribe of Megnainu. He learned how to fight and how to ride a horse at a very young age. When he turned 15 he joined the marauders for the March Raids. It was in the villages where he showed unconscious devotion to the Lord of War and the Lady of Death. Bringing carnage with fire and smoke. When then continued, he pulled the heads on ropes behind him as a symbol for the next village. They returned after his 16th birthday, after his first baptism in blood against the Justinian. Neithranough pulled most of the slaves with him.
Many years and raids passed. In each Neithranough grew more vicious and cruel. He burned out eyes, forcing his slaves to march behind him blind. With only a taut rope to guide them. Those he did not like he locked into a hut and set fire to it. Standing and taking in the screams coming from inside. When he turned 21 he felt a strange call from the blood around him. The Bloody Prophet of his tribe heard it too and knew there was more to Neithranough than being a common champion of Arkanath. The Prophet started teaching him in the ancient art of blood-runes. An art said to be passed on by Arkanath himself. The runes, drawn on the body, would grant power beyond imagination.
These days, Neithranough rides in a chariot pulled by 4 wild, black steeds. With bow and spear, he has killed many. Leaving a trail of devastation and destruction. But no raid ever sated his hunger. Quite the opposite. He constantly wants more.
That maybe we just start posting in the IC? I'm not sure if flagg is coming back anytime soon but giving the nature of the world, I'm assuming its all pretty freeform within the rules that have already been stated.
What does everyone else think? I'm still very much looking to get started,and I'd hate to see the interest for this dry up and I assume flagg wants this alive too.
whats everyone's thoughts? I'm only suggesting this because I dont think he'd mind too much, but I'm aware its not normal protocol to start without the GM first.
