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Vixere
CaptainBritton@MrDidact Here is a revised section of Shivering Boar Clan history, for your review el hefe.
Recent History: "Every Ranger worth his salt knows of the Thenns, The Cave Dwellers, The Hornfoot, The Ice-river Clans, The Nightrunners, and the Frozen Shore Clans, but few know of the Clans of the Shivering Forest, or, the Shivering Boar Clans. Perhaps it’s because they are so damned far North, or the last time the Watch tried to launch a naval expedition against this tribe, they lost damn near half the fleet before turning back. I count myself among the few who have seen them in the flesh, these savages ride boars as massive as bears, running down their enemies before they can escape. I had left with a ranging party of thirty men, to try and find their settlement, if one can call these wildlings squalid camps settlements. It’s not just the other tribes and clans that harass us, but also the weather as well. By the time I finally saw the Shivering Boar's home... well, I had all but seven of my men. Let it be known to all, these wildlings inhabit a ruined fortress of the First Men. All I can say, is that it puts the Fist to shame. I have left a report for the Lord Commander to see, detailing thei... *Damage from moisture obscures the rest of the text. A foot note at the bottom of the page refers to a report filing number* " - Excerpt from Ser Jarman Buckwell's journal, circa AC 292.
While no written records exist of the exact founding of the Shivering Boar Clan, most oral accounts of the clan itself place its founding some five-hundred years ago. A group of men, it is said, wandered the lands of the far North, when they stumbled across this oasis of warmth, in the endless taiga and tundra of the lands beyond the wall. Some jokes say it was a ranging of crows, who upon seeing warmth and green for the first time in decades, forsook their oaths, and started their own settlement, and over time, named themselves after the large sounder of wild boars that lived in the gulch. Either way, what is true, is that the Shivering Boar Clan settled itself in the remains of a First Man fortification, which was situated in the entirety of a gulch that had numerous hot springs and geothermal activity.
Around AC 292, the Shivering Boar clan began to expand outwards from its safe little power basin. They began to conquer their neighbors, one by one, creating puppet clans and tribes out of those they vanquished, and vassals out of those that swore allegiance to them. Over the next four years, the clan became the most powerful free-folk in the area, and had grown to a size of almost six thousand strong, with their own levies and that of their subjects. In the early months of AC 297, they were visited by Mance Rayder, and seeing the signs of evil, they pledged to help push South and assault the Wall, to break into the realms of the kneelers. Sadly, or perhaps fortuitously for the Night's Watch and the realms of the kneelers, the massive free folk army was smashed to pieces, including many the fighting men and women of the Shivering Boar clan.
The former Chieftain, and his subsequent replacement, both beat a hasty retreat to Hardhome, fleeing the Night's Watch and their saviors, the soldiers who bore a flaming banner with a heart and a stag. These were dire times indeed, when the might of the Shivering Boar Clan could be toppled by the Southern Kneelers. Yet, as they marched North, across the frozen wastes and snow-covered forests, a heated exchange happened between the various leaders of the clans and tribes that made up the Shivering Boar and their oathsworn vassals. Some wanted to immediately press southwards, and bend the knee, to live a safe life inside of the Wall and away from the Others. Such blasphemy had never been dared spoken aloud before, yet, these times were far different than any that had ever come before. The dead roamed the earth, and the White Walkers were no longer things of nightmares and imagination. As much blood had been spilled during the previous battles, the clan split in two, half heading north, the other heading south. History has proven those that made the trek south are the only ones who survived, at least in any substantial numbers.
As time progressed, the might of the forces of the living defeated those of the Night King and the Others. The endless hordes of undead smote asunder or cast back into the great unknown of the lands beyond the wall. As many had hopped, a semblance of peace came across the lands protected by the Wall, but that was not to last. Within the masses of the wildlings, there were some who wished to return to their homes, to reject the bent knee and rise again as free men. These Old God adherents, the true blooded Free Folk, they understood only one thing, the might of sword and shield. As the kneelers and the standers began to chafe against one another, a growing divide developed, one that would lead to the events surrounding the rebirth of the Shivering Boar Clan in all its glory of yesteryear. From the ranks of the nameless warriors and marauders, rose a fierce and proud warrior, one who dared to defy kings, queens, and supposed chieftains.
On the zenith of a Blood Moon, that a great warrior rose from the ranks of the unknown, Bjorek Tuskbreaker, true chieftain of the Shivering Boars. In tradition of old, he challenged the tusk guard of the kneeler chieftain in single combat, he challenged the sub-chieftain, and he finally challenged the chieftain himself, slaying all with the might and prowess of a true warrior, his axe singing through the air, and their skulls. In grisly tradition, he kept all their skulls as a reminder to any who would dare kneel before the Southern men, to defy the Old Gods and their commands. Of course, this caused a massive civil war to break out amongst the different tribes, those who wished to stay, and those who wished to go home. Bjorek himself would lead his people north, venturing out beyond the wall, hell bent upon returning to their ancestral home and the ways of old. Over the course of the next ten years, Bjorek Tuskbreaker crushed all remaining resistance, killing those who had risen in defiance, conquering wayward lesser tribes, and beginning to rebuild the Shivering Boar Clan.
Bjorek was crowned chieftain as the last rebel holdouts were finally eliminated, securing his supremacy not only over the Shivering Boars, but all the other clans and tribes in the region under the yolk of Shivering Boar power. With the help of his trusted second, Sub-Chief Svir Boartamer, peace was finally achieved for the remnants of the once great and powerful Shivering Boars. With his seat secure in Varmr Gulch, and the process of rebuilding underway, the winter solstice of AC 324 brought forth a vision to the High-priestess of the Shivering Boar Clan. The coming year would bring much change, the rise of great powers of old, and the return of darkness in the hearts of men. Cold and fire, blood and food, the world was going to change, and the answers pointed towards the sacred moon metal at the heart of the Wierwood grove, beneath the temple mount.
Whatever these words meant, the High Priestess had spoken, and thus began the shifting of the Clan's gaze towards the Shivering Shore, and the ocean beyond. It was time to raid south, to find those who could work metal into a new form, the types of men who kneeled all their life. Thus, began the time of ship building, of crafting vessels that could carry a few men and women to raid the southlands, and return with the metal shapers of the south.
Recent History: "Every Ranger worth his salt knows of the Thenns, The Cave Dwellers, The Hornfoot, The Ice-river Clans, The Nightrunners, and the Frozen Shore Clans, but few know of the Clans of the Shivering Forest, or, the Shivering Boar Clans. Perhaps it’s because they are so damned far North, or the last time the Watch tried to launch a naval expedition against this tribe, they lost damn near half the fleet before turning back. I count myself among the few who have seen them in the flesh, these savages ride boars as massive as bears, running down their enemies before they can escape. I had left with a ranging party of thirty men, to try and find their settlement, if one can call these wildlings squalid camps settlements. It’s not just the other tribes and clans that harass us, but also the weather as well. By the time I finally saw the Shivering Boar's home... well, I had all but seven of my men. Let it be known to all, these wildlings inhabit a ruined fortress of the First Men. All I can say, is that it puts the Fist to shame. I have left a report for the Lord Commander to see, detailing thei... *Damage from moisture obscures the rest of the text. A foot note at the bottom of the page refers to a report filing number* " - Excerpt from Ser Jarman Buckwell's journal, circa AC 292.
While no written records exist of the exact founding of the Shivering Boar Clan, most oral accounts of the clan itself place its founding some five-hundred years ago. A group of men, it is said, wandered the lands of the far North, when they stumbled across this oasis of warmth, in the endless taiga and tundra of the lands beyond the wall. Some jokes say it was a ranging of crows, who upon seeing warmth and green for the first time in decades, forsook their oaths, and started their own settlement, and over time, named themselves after the large sounder of wild boars that lived in the gulch. Either way, what is true, is that the Shivering Boar Clan settled itself in the remains of a First Man fortification, which was situated in the entirety of a gulch that had numerous hot springs and geothermal activity.
Around AC 292, the Shivering Boar clan began to expand outwards from its safe little power basin. They began to conquer their neighbors, one by one, creating puppet clans and tribes out of those they vanquished, and vassals out of those that swore allegiance to them. Over the next four years, the clan became the most powerful free-folk in the area, and had grown to a size of almost six thousand strong, with their own levies and that of their subjects. In the early months of AC 297, they were visited by Mance Rayder, and seeing the signs of evil, they pledged to help push South and assault the Wall, to break into the realms of the kneelers. Sadly, or perhaps fortuitously for the Night's Watch and the realms of the kneelers, the massive free folk army was smashed to pieces, including many the fighting men and women of the Shivering Boar clan.
The former Chieftain, and his subsequent replacement, both beat a hasty retreat to Hardhome, fleeing the Night's Watch and their saviors, the soldiers who bore a flaming banner with a heart and a stag. These were dire times indeed, when the might of the Shivering Boar Clan could be toppled by the Southern Kneelers. Yet, as they marched North, across the frozen wastes and snow-covered forests, a heated exchange happened between the various leaders of the clans and tribes that made up the Shivering Boar and their oathsworn vassals. Some wanted to immediately press southwards, and bend the knee, to live a safe life inside of the Wall and away from the Others. Such blasphemy had never been dared spoken aloud before, yet, these times were far different than any that had ever come before. The dead roamed the earth, and the White Walkers were no longer things of nightmares and imagination. As much blood had been spilled during the previous battles, the clan split in two, half heading north, the other heading south. History has proven those that made the trek south are the only ones who survived, at least in any substantial numbers.
As time progressed, the might of the forces of the living defeated those of the Night King and the Others. The endless hordes of undead smote asunder or cast back into the great unknown of the lands beyond the wall. As many had hopped, a semblance of peace came across the lands protected by the Wall, but that was not to last. Within the masses of the wildlings, there were some who wished to return to their homes, to reject the bent knee and rise again as free men. These Old God adherents, the true blooded Free Folk, they understood only one thing, the might of sword and shield. As the kneelers and the standers began to chafe against one another, a growing divide developed, one that would lead to the events surrounding the rebirth of the Shivering Boar Clan in all its glory of yesteryear. From the ranks of the nameless warriors and marauders, rose a fierce and proud warrior, one who dared to defy kings, queens, and supposed chieftains.
On the zenith of a Blood Moon, that a great warrior rose from the ranks of the unknown, Bjorek Tuskbreaker, true chieftain of the Shivering Boars. In tradition of old, he challenged the tusk guard of the kneeler chieftain in single combat, he challenged the sub-chieftain, and he finally challenged the chieftain himself, slaying all with the might and prowess of a true warrior, his axe singing through the air, and their skulls. In grisly tradition, he kept all their skulls as a reminder to any who would dare kneel before the Southern men, to defy the Old Gods and their commands. Of course, this caused a massive civil war to break out amongst the different tribes, those who wished to stay, and those who wished to go home. Bjorek himself would lead his people north, venturing out beyond the wall, hell bent upon returning to their ancestral home and the ways of old. Over the course of the next ten years, Bjorek Tuskbreaker crushed all remaining resistance, killing those who had risen in defiance, conquering wayward lesser tribes, and beginning to rebuild the Shivering Boar Clan.
Bjorek was crowned chieftain as the last rebel holdouts were finally eliminated, securing his supremacy not only over the Shivering Boars, but all the other clans and tribes in the region under the yolk of Shivering Boar power. With the help of his trusted second, Sub-Chief Svir Boartamer, peace was finally achieved for the remnants of the once great and powerful Shivering Boars. With his seat secure in Varmr Gulch, and the process of rebuilding underway, the winter solstice of AC 324 brought forth a vision to the High-priestess of the Shivering Boar Clan. The coming year would bring much change, the rise of great powers of old, and the return of darkness in the hearts of men. Cold and fire, blood and food, the world was going to change, and the answers pointed towards the sacred moon metal at the heart of the Wierwood grove, beneath the temple mount.
Whatever these words meant, the High Priestess had spoken, and thus began the shifting of the Clan's gaze towards the Shivering Shore, and the ocean beyond. It was time to raid south, to find those who could work metal into a new form, the types of men who kneeled all their life. Thus, began the time of ship building, of crafting vessels that could carry a few men and women to raid the southlands, and return with the metal shapers of the south.