Post by athelstan on Sept 12, 2008 23:01:17 GMT -5
Savagery and the Lands of the Iron Winter
The Green
[/b][/u][/center]The Green
“…after several weeks since the bandit raid, the last few fragments of our caravan were separated or killed. Wolves howled through the trees and dashed towards us, terrifying our horses and even killing one Kârye guard. I was so afraid that I had taken to abandoning the Presence, and began praying to the Soul of the Wild, which the savage folk revere. Eventually, I was so lost and alone that I could only weep with fear. In between sobs, I gasped out what prayers I could to the Soul of the Wild.
“My prayers must have been heard, for what next happened was nothing short of miraculous.
“From behind a tree came three wolves, their eyes gleaming malevolently and their maws stained red. As they crept towards me, there was a rustle in the bushes behind the tree that I had backed up to. For a moment, I thought that a fourth wolf would stalk forth, but then, a musical twang, and one of the wolves fell, an arrow deep in his skull. The other two snarled, but slowly backed away. When I saw what was intimidating them, I almost screamed.
“There was something like a face there; two eyes, unblinking, and even nostrils, ears, and a mouth. However, the muscles were rigid; the cheeks still, the mouth unmoving, without breath. What was even more astonishing was the fact that the creature did not have skin, but what looked like thick, lush moss. For hair, there were long strands not dissimilar from blades of grass, and there were also subtle-smelling, small white flowers. The creature wore no clothes, and there was nothing of a sexual nature below its waist. It was humanoid, weirdly so, but far too small; the creature could not have been above three feet tall.
“The most astounding feature, however, was the creature’s fingers. Rather than ending bluntly like those of humans, the fingers transformed into a great mass of long roots, which were pale as snow. These roots actually twitched and moved; if the rest of this bizarre little plant-man could move, why not his roots? In fact, many of the roots of the creature’s right hand clutched a relatively huge bow crafted of dark, nearly black wood. Slung about the creature was a strip of vine that had been dried, which was attached to a grass-woven quiver full of arrows with obsidian tips, the same black wood for their shafts, and fine grey feather fletching. About the creature’s waist was a belt in which was thrust an axe of what appeared to be crystal.
“One wolf seemed quite angry about the death of its pack-mate, and so it leapt forward, snarling and howling. At the same time, the other wolf launched at the other side of the mossy man. So fast that the eye could barely follow, the creature whipped out the axe and smashed in the head of the wolf to the left with its left hand, while the right hand discarded the bow and then snaked its roots around the other wolf’s throat, and twisted them sharply to one side. As the two beasts collapsed, the strange creature turned to me and spoke quite clearly in what seemed like a certain dialect of the tongue of the savage folk. When I showed incomprehension, the creature seemed to sigh, and then shook its head sharply. The air was, all of a moment, full of gentle, golden dust. As I breathed it in, I felt an incredible joy and relaxation, and quickly fell asleep.
“When I awoke, I was alone.” - From the report of the caravan run by Tulas Ermanth, an Obelâk citizen. Author anonymous.
***
"…gods were thrown down and imprisoned below the world, and the Ten spread their peace across the world. The Twins healed the world, which had been rendered unstable by the endless battles, and men gave their thanks by worshipping all twelve beings. Yet as time turned and changed, men spread across the world. Their colour, tongues, and shapes changed, and while some built great places of stone in places of rolling grass, others lived quietly in the cool, tree-shaded forests. Some gods fell into disfavour among one group of people, while another raised those deities to the most exalted position.
"The god who had originally breathed life into mortal creatures found himself greatly revered by men who dwelt in the wilds, but he was alarmed by the fact that his realm of quiet and peace was being encroached upon men that ripped down trees and filled fair swamps with soil. Some among the wild men, eager to please their god, agreed to a pact that transformed them from beasts to plants. These new, strange men of mossy skin and grassy hair swore to uphold the wild and protect the trees and marshes. While they would allow any man to pass through the wild, the first man to raise an axe against a tree with the intent of building in the clearing was slain. Soon, those men who destroyed forests to build turned away with fear and superstition.
“And the Soul of the Wild remained, and it watched.” – A translated excerpt from the Great Tale of Creation, one of the most holy series of myths of the savage folk. Regarded as blasphemous and false by the Creed.
***
“In dreaming days, our ancestors, cousins of the good and just folk who dwell in the caverns and dens of the forest, saw the wicked folk of the plains come to our forest with iron in their hands and evil in their hearts. As the iron bit into the ancient, thoughtful trees, their pain was our ancestors’, and they rose up with fire and stone. The wicked men went forth to their great holds of stone and consulted their depraved leader, who called himself the Warder. His heart filled with festering sin and hatred for the sacred Soul of the Wild, the loathsome Warder sent forth thousands of men of war, who bore cruel implements of iron and liquid fire.
“Horrified, the Soul of the Wild called forth a group of pure men and women who were willing to destroy the outsiders in their entirety. He blessed them, and their skin became moss, their hair flowers, and their blood sap. The blessed men walked among the trees in silence, and they had dominance over all animals of the forest except for three: the lonely bear, the proud wolf, and the cunning wildcat. The Soul of the Wild ordered the blessed ones to go forth and defend the holy forests, and with them would go all of the wild’s children, as well as the cavern-folk.
“In the stillness of night, the children of the wild descended righteously. In a matter of days, the foes of the forest were destroyed. The Warder, raging and howling with frustration, called forth another army. However, before he could send the soldiers forth, a man of the caverns, his heart cold with anger, crept forth from the darkness of the forests into the great holds of stone and felled the sinful monster. After this, all who came to the forests with iron and fire either asked permission from the Soul of the Wild first, or else fell before the obsidian arrows of our people.
“Golden-leaves, dark-vale, calm-glade, Wild-Soul.” – This excerpt appears to be a myth of the Green, and confirms the excerpt above. The excerpt was in Nharensil, one of the earliest languages of Savagery, and was written on a piece of birch bark, inside the barrow of what appeared to be a king of the savage folk.
***
For many years, tales of the Green, as they are commonly called by border-folk, were disregarded as drunken tales. However, with the recent attempts at reconciliation with the savage folk, many more learned people have had chances to explore the great forests, and they have encountered the Green in profusion. These enigmatic and quiet creatures have never shown aggression to those that do not harm a tree, but many who do such a thing are silenced eternally in the time it takes to blink.
As was written in the first report, the Green have moss for skin, and flowers instead of hair. Their mythical origin is evidenced through their appearance, but the cause of their tiny size is a mystery. Though they are plants, they also have characteristics of animals, such as the ability to move. At times, the Green have even spoken, and some researchers have reported that the breath of the Green is cool, without scent, and strangely invigorating. The pollen of the flowers of the Green has been known to induce euphoria and, in larger doses, dreamless sleep. Occasionally, the Green have been reported to make a gift of nectar from their flowers to those humans that they favour. The nectar of the Green is sweet, like honey, but not as much, and also has the same sleep-inducing effect as the pollen.
The Green are surprisingly open about their way of life, considering their similarity to the suspicious, reclusive savage folk. As reported by the Green, they have genders, but these are evidenced by the colour of their flowers; males are white, females are pink. In three specific winters of their lives, which last about six-score years, the Green congregate in one vast meadow somewhere in the great forests and release their pollen in one vast cloud, in an event called the Mingling. Only the Green can be present during this occasion, because the amount of pollen in the air is fatal to humans at these times. During this, the female Green are pollinated, and a seed, about the size of a man’s heart, is formed in a special cavity in the upper chest. The seeds are then buried in mud in the spring, sprout, and burst from the ground as minute, vegetative infants in the autumn. The Green have some incomprehensible ability to locate their offspring, and care for them as intensively as humans will. The Green do not feel romantic bonds, but family ties are as strong as the iron that they loathe, and they will sometimes found their own clans if their separate ones are enemies and one is unable to live with the other.
The Green live in nomadic clans, often one clan many miles from another. They all revere the Soul of the Wild, and the Mingling doubles as a religious ceremony that is on par with the Great Pilgrimage of The Creed to Erjaos. The forests have been shared by the savage folk and the Green sometimes violently. However, in any conflict for land, the Green have always been victorious, for they are able, in extreme circumstances, to rouse what seems to be a particular Green type of magic involving the weather.
The Green live in an egalitarian society: a clan is led by matriarch and patriarch equally. It is more common for politics to be managed by women and religion by men, however. They are also not above violence in their politics. Clan warfare has been described by Green scholars as having been, at times, almost ruinous. Unlike the savage folk, the Green do not adhere to any sort of honour code, and so their warfare has been seen as near incomprehensibly brutal. Men, women, children, even infants are killed during clan warfare. The Green have a rich oral tradition, but they will also record their myths on bark and make gifts of the stories. Gifts are also very important among the Green; a well placed gift can end a clan war, and a refused gift can start one.
The Green, as evidenced by the myth above, have a strong hatred for civilized folk, mostly stemming from the disastrous War of Expansion. During an attempt to gain more land for cattle, the King of Ruenav (the nation was later annexed by the First Obelâk Kingdom at the order of Obel the Great in 378 W.E.) sent forth a veritable horde of deforesters in the year 173, only to see them all slain by the Green (who were first seen at this time) and the savage folk. He consulted the current Warder, a man of infamous corruption by the name of Tiresul the Second. After being suitably bribed, the Warder gathered a host and sent it against the people of the forest. When this host was slaughtered, the Warder attempted to gather a second army, but he was either struck down by the Presence or slain by a wildman assassin, depending on who you ask. Most scholars are inclined to think of the latter.
With Tiresul’s death in 175, the Chaos of the Creed began as numerous officials of the Creed attempted to claim the Wardership. The Chaos did not end until 383, when Obel the Great finally united the Faithful Nations into the First Obelâk Kingdom and assisted in the choice of one Warder.
After Ruenav’s War of Expansion, many rulers had the good sense not to attack the forests, until 567, when the last Emperor of the First Obelâk Kingdom, the wicked and incompetent Mezran, sought to distract people’s attention from his shortcomings by attempting to convert the wildmen by the sword. Rather than merely protecting the forests, the savage folk spilled out of the wilderness with axes of crystal, arrows of stone, and lit torches, and much of the Frontier was consumed in one great firestorm. The city of Erjaos, which was traditionally ruled by the Warder but had become the capital of the Obelâk Kingdom, was besieged, and the siege lasted for three years. Finally, the inhabitants, exhausted with war, gave Mezran’s head to the High King of the wildmen, who was known only as the Antlered Lord. The Wildman’s War ended, and this began the First Interregnum, as the First Obelâk Kingdom collapsed.
In 642, as the kingdoms that existed before the Second Obelâk Kingdom were established, a grand treaty was signed between all rulers and the Green, and they swore not to attack the holy forests. This treaty was upheld for five hundred years, until 1128, and the foundation of the Second Obelâk Kingdom. After this, the Obelâk kings had a habit of assaulting the forests, and seeing the borders ravaged. The Second Obelâk Kingdom, though powerful, was also fragile, and was quickly torn apart in 1213. During the Second Interregnum, the forests actually expanded many miles inland, and a number of old cities fell before the relentless tide of the savage folk. It was only two hundred years ago, in 1404, that Wurant the Blade established his Udonic Empire, conquering all lands but Kâryos, the Third Obelâk Kingdom, and the Warded Cities, and then turned to the forests. Wurant spent much of the rest of his life with a sword in his fist, until he was defeated by Ebane Bear-heart at the Meghlar Fords. Not long after this battle, Wurant died at the great age of seventy-three, and his son, Fädrusel, inherited much of the lost Frontier.
***
The Izruh
The Izruh
For many years, the Izruh have been regarded as subhuman for their animalistic appearance, including a jutting brow, an incredibly hairy, almost furry body, and monstrous strength. They have dwelled in the Lands of the Iron Winter since the beginning of recorded history, and their land is so harsh that none others even dream of encroaching upon it. The Izruh revere certain totemic gods, being Kyeza the Moon-Lord, Tukharl the Wind-Breath, and Yirokemh the Soul-Keeper. Besides these gods, the Izruh also speak of the Lords among beasts, such as the Dreaming Bear, the Heavenly Raven, and the Silent Fox. While the gods are worshipped, the beast-spirits are respected as worthy friends or mighty rivals.
An average male Izruh stands around five and a half feet tall, weighs roughly two and a half talents, and is famously perfect for life in the cold far south. The chest is of a barrel shape, and the limbs are short and stocky. An Izruh cannot run for any long distance as a human can, but they have unbelievable strength and stamina, and are capable of attacking and killing any number of massive creatures, such as the thunderhound (which looks little like a dog, eats pine needles and grass, and is capable of reaching around twenty feet of height when standing upright) or the aurochs.
The Izruhe lifestyle in their vast, icy homeland is necessarily opposed to any foundation of towns or cities. During the brief growing season, communities of up to seven families will gather in one area and track down game. As winter sets in and the great rukka flocks move north, the Izruh follow, entering the great, gloomy forests of the far south. As winter ends, the rukka move south, and the Izruh will follow until the ground is thawed enough that farming can begin again.
Much of the Izruh way of life depends on the rukka, a huge migratory bird whose bones can be used to build structures as well as weapons, and whose meat is easily preserved. The bird’s beautiful white winter plumage is used heavily in Izruhe religious ceremonies and also commands a high price in civilized markets for use in stuffing pillows, fletching arrows, and making fine clothing. The superior quality of the feathers has also been enough to drive some Northerners to attempt to hunt the bird, but the sheer cruelty of the South’s weather has been enough to keep these fortune-seekers out.
Though it might seem as if the savage folk and the Izruh would be close allies because of their striking similarity in ways of life, there was some event in the distant past that caused the two peoples to become bitter foes. Seeing as both groups are generally distrustful of civilized folk, scholars have been unable to determine the nature of this event.
There were some foolish attempts in recent history to stamp out the Izruh, ostensibly for their heathenry but more likely for their simple strangeness. The most infamous was the attempt by Wurant the Blade’s grandson, Enayuk I. Ten thousand soldiers entered the Southern forests, headed for the tundra. However, they were bogged down by vicious animals and Izruhe raiders, and by the time they reached the Lands of the Iron Winter, that very winter had settled in. A total of three hundred soldiers returned from the South, and Enayuk, who had led the ten thousand, was not among those survivors.
Izruhe warfare is rare and usually bloodless. Kidnapping is preferred to killing, except in extreme circumstances, and usually only one member of an enemy family is killed or kidnapped. Such killing or abduction usually stems from a grievous insult or stealing of food, and retaliation is forbidden by the unwritten laws of the Izruh.
While it may seem as though the concept of an Izruhe government is absurd, it is nonetheless a reality. Every four summers, all families among the Izruh gather in a certain location, the Valley of Shattered Stars, where large chunks of pure iron, which allegedly fell from the heavens, are strewn across the ground. This area, which is at about the centre of the Lands of the Iron Winter, is large enough that all of the Izruh, who number about one hundred and ten thousand, can gather in one vast host. There is no single leader, but the most powerful family patriarchs gather about the Heart, a piece of iron that is more than double the size of any others nearby. Disputes are mediated by the Uryokeshil (meaning ‘those that see’), who are the religious leaders of the Izruh and are comprised of three orders: the Dreaming, who are devoted to Kyeza and are skilled in divination; the Storming, who follow Tukharl and are warriors as well as manipulators of weather; and the Cold, who revere Yirokemh and are necromancers and morticians. The Cold are generally most chosen for mediators, as their order values serenity and compassion above all else, while the Storming are least chosen, for their values of emotion and valour.
During the gathering of the Izruh, called the Akyajina, there is also a great deal of worship of the gods and offering to the Beast Lords, as well as the only advanced trade among the Izruh. The thick skins of torkanak (flightless birds of the sea that are swift swimmers and range from the weight of a chicken to that of a man) are traded with priceless uncut crimson diamonds, and the scent of cooking meat, be it rukka, forest bear, torkanak, or snow hare, hangs over the area like a fog.
Of everyday life, tantalizingly little is truly known. Knowledge of the general structure of Izruhe society has been gained slowly over the centuries, thanks to the efforts of courageous and charismatic explorers that have been able to befriend the bestial-looking people of the distant South. It is assumed that every day is a struggle for food, and it has been freely admitted that deformed children are killed. Rather than leaving them for exposure, however, as the savage folk will practice in starving times, the Izruh kill these defectives quickly and as painlessly as possible; there is a superstition among the Izruh that the more painful a death, the longer it takes for Yirokemh to bring a soul to the Fields of the Sky. Cannibalism is practiced in the worst of famines, and is considered “the final measure” among the Izruh.
It is noted by some that at night, especially during the winter, one can see the tundra’s sky suddenly come alight with a shimmering, moving curtain of changing colours. While the Izruh regard this as the heavenly realm where the souls of the unborn and the dead reside, the Creed believes it to be some of the Presence’s sacred Light shining through the sky. Strangely, there have been reports of times when the lights are particularly bright, and tumours will recede following these times (there is a disease unique to the Izruh in which moles will mutate into weird, sprawling tumours that will not go deeper in the skin, but will be fatal if they reach such things as the eyes. The disease is called Rinakel).
***
The Savage Folk
The Savage Folk
“After the world was created from ash, water and stone by the Twins, the two heavenly beings withdrew to places beyond mortal access or understanding. However, the Twins, …chaos that raged on the barren world before anything lived. A few gods, however, chose not to choose either side, but withdrew to the few places of calm…contemplated the war. They eventually decided to create a force that could be used to overthrow the warring gods and bring peace to the world. The other eight…a tiny, slimy thing, as well as things too small to be observed. Into each of these things, the other god breathed the eternal flame of life, and the other eight gave their blessing, empowering the creature but reducing their own. Finally, all ten called upon the Twins for the gift of wakefulness, and this was granted also.
Within…world.
Finally, there came a beast that could overpower the gods; a two-legged creature, with sharp eyes, dull nostrils, and an abnormally expansive mind. Across the world these creatures spread, but rather than taking the world as they found it, these creatures altered it to their advantage. Angered by this…creature, which called itself ‘man,’ called upon the Twins and the Ten, and finally, they…” - a tantalizingly fragmented section of the Great Tale of Creation.
***
“I will tell this to the deaf, I will write it in such ways that the blind shall see, that the folk who proudly call themselves savage are not human, but are the Great Enemy, the One Grand Error, the tumour on the face of the world. And as such, there are no means however low or cruel to which I will not stoop to rip that disease from the world and hurl it screaming into the fires of the Presence. I call the savage folk the dark, sinful reflection of mankind, and it is mankind’s duty to destroy whatever darkness it finds.” – a statement from the first High General of the Burning Order, Trygan Ermuk.
***
Since the mythical dawn of the Drifting Years, civilized people and the savage folk have always been at odds. The origin of this battle, as recounted by the Creed, begins in the paradisiacal days after the Darkness was expelled from the world by the Presence. In these days, all men were barbaric but pacifistic and gentle. There was no murder and there was no war, and all lived in the soothing Light of the Presence.
Yet from the Void came the cold whispers of the Darkness, which no man alone can withstand. A simple boy, whose name is forgotten to the mists of time, had wandered out of the Light, into the shadowed lands in the dark side of the world. There, without the Presence’s protection, the Darkness’ voice still lingered, and it reached in and crushed the boy’s soul. His body became an avatar for unspeakable evil, and he returned to the Enlightened Lands, now festering with malevolence. Soon, he gained a title in Ibrutäna, the root language of the tongues of the civilized folk: Margïh’u Tamlai, “The Shadow Tide.” He was so called for his relentless searches through the world, converting any who were dissatisfied with their lot to his unspeakable faith and raising his banner of blue stars and black sky over countless villages. Eventually, with a huge host at his back, Margïh’u Tamlan marched upon the Holy Realm, a great, ancient forest of vast trees at the centre of the single continent which covered the world. The Realm was sacred, for there the Presence’s Light shone brightest: to claim such a place would spell an end for the Presence, and would permanently drown the entire world in shadow and chaos.
Yet as the meagre few who had remained faithful prepared for their final stand, a large group of Margïh’u Tamlai’s host promptly began slaying their comrades, led by the Warlord Ama’ruket. Also at this time, a group who had until that time remained neutral, whose original names are lost, made up their mind and attacked the evil army from behind. With one flank having rebelled and now attacking the centre, while warriors savaged his rearguard and his vanguard was being slaughtered by warriors in the forest, Margïh’u Tamlan fled, leaving his army to be butchered.
Yet the Light of the Presence flared, and there was no place where the avatar of Darkness could flee, nowhere he could hide. The avatar was then destroyed by a bolt of pure heavenly fire, and the Darkness exploded outwards, fleeing the Presence desperately, down into the heart of the world. Yet with the destruction of the Darkness’ avatar, the land buckled and shattered, and the sea rushed in as the single great continent broke and was blasted apart into the shape of the modern world.
The followers of Ama’ruket, for their change of heart, were granted the gift of life, but for their original choice, they were condemned to wander the world until the end of days. Meanwhile, those that had been neutral were afflicted with a beastly form, as they had remained neutral like the beasts. However, those that had remained loyal to the Presence throughout were given the fairest of lands, and built great cities of stone, brick or painted wood. These were the Shining Days, for even though the world had been marred by the conflict between the Presence and the Darkness, the hearts of men were still pure.
Yet there came a time when the wandering descendants of Ama’ruket’s folk passed over a place where the Darkness’ self-imposed imprisonment was weak, and its black whispers once again reached to the world. With a combination of fell magic and deceit, the Darkness enticed the wanderers to sacrifice other humans in its name. The wandering folk became corrupt and sinful, and for the first time since the Dawn of Man, before even Margïh’u Tamlan reigned, the Presence’s might was challenged by that of the Darkness.
From out of the shadowed lands they came howling, great hosts of savage warriors. They flooded the great cities of civilized folk, setting them to the torch or ripping the elegant towers to earth. In the sky, night and day clashed violently, and the sky became an eternally bloody red. The descendants of those who had declared neutrality retreated to the chill places of the world, refuting both Power and Darkness, resigning themselves to the fact that should either be victor, they would be destroyed. For twenty years the battle raged on and on, fuelled by the venom of hatred and envy, until finally, exhausted, both Power and Darkness retreated from the world. Should they continue their battle at that time, they would negate each other, and also would the world be annihilated. Neither force wished for such an event, and so even as the shadow of evil passed away, so did the brilliance of good.
Now both man and earth were marred, for the hearts of the city-dwellers became iced over with hatred, and the door was opened for other vices, such as avarice and lust. Those that had been neutral discovered that they had not been destroyed, but they feared the enmity of those in the warmer lands, and remained in the places of ice and snow. Eventually, those in the far north and those in the far south lost contact, and took different paths. Meanwhile, those that had declared for Darkness found themselves drained and weary. They scattered across the world as leaves are blown before the wind, and wherever they met those that had declared for Light, there was bloodshed and death. During these dark times, no men dwelt in one place for long, but wandered. For this, the time was named the Drifting Years. For two thousand years, all were savage.
Finally, a group of those that had followed the Presence wandered across the sea in crude canoes to a great, misty land cloaked with forests and grasslands. They were soon followed by a group of those that had followed Darkness, and they wandered across the land, the Light-followers in the grasslands, the Dark-followers in the forests. While the Dark-followers abandoned their old, evil god for what they called the Soul of the Wild, a peaceful voice that rang through the forests, the Light-followers erected a great temple upon a mountainside at the heart of the grasslands. Soon, the two groups came in conflict with each other, and also discovered that in the south resided descendants of the neutral folk. When the two forces attempted to wage war on the southerners, they came shrieking out of the tundra with bow and spear, driving both Power- and Wild-worshipper ever north. Finally, the people of the grasslands created a grand alliance called the Wardership, with a great priest of the Presence as their leader. Meanwhile, the wildmen united under a single, great king. Together, King and Warder drove the southerners out of forest and grassland, into the tundra. Then, a pact was written and sealed: peace between the Wild and the Faithful Nations, but no encroachment upon their respective lands. This pact was sealed and sanctified, and remained inviolate for one hundred and seventy three years. With the dawn of the Wardership, the Warded Era began.
The wildmen have a very different report of events. Firstly, they believe that the conflict in the beginning was between the Twelve Gods (whose nature is described below) and the Warring Gods. After the Warring Gods were initially defeated, they were imprisoned, but they whispered to Margïh’u Tamlan, who the wildmen call Eruth Tibasïd, the Great Betrayer. The savage folk say that Ama’ruket was always loyal to the Twelve, but pretended he was aligned to the Betrayer, who wished to overthrow the Twelve and free the Warring Gods.
After the Betrayer was destroyed (the wildmen say it was at the hands of two strangely opposite yet benign beings called the Twins), the savage folk claim that the gods withdrew their influence from the world, and some men chose the way of the city, while others chose wilderness, and the gods were worshipped freely and without fear. Yet men came in conflict with each other nonetheless, and declared war. The sky was a bloody red from the fires that stormed the cities, the farms and the forests. However, the wildmen do agree with civilized mythology on the account of the neutral, bestial folk.
Eventually, men were so exhausted that they could not continue their war without risking mutual extinction, and so began an era of nomadic life, drifting across the land, godless and confused. The savage folk write that their ancestors followed some of the worshippers of the Twins (all savage folk believe that ‘the Presence’ is just a civilized name for the Twins) across the ocean, to the continent. From there, their reports generally coincide with those of the Creed.
Though the truth is unknown, the reality is that relations between the civilized and the savage have been violent and filled with treachery. From the Ruenave War of Expansion to the Wildman’s War to the encroachment during the Second Interregnum, wildmen have always been trying to spread the wilderness and conquer the Faithful Nations, while civilized folk have been attempting to convert and crush the savages. The Frontier is a place of constant fear on both sides, the wildmen afraid of villager mobs and arsonists, the villagers terrified of the thought of savage raiders. The history of the Frontier seems to be a simple stream of blood feuds, destroyed communities and nameless skirmishes that have shed more blood than all the major wars of the Warded Era combined.
Savagery is truly a diverse coalition of nations, and they exist entirely in the western third of the known parts of the southern continent. Their lands range from the vibrant, beautiful forests of the low country to the gloomier pines of the foothills, up to the wind-blasted valleys, and all the way to the cruel lands of the rivers of ice and eternal winter. Beyond the Land’s Teeth (the mountain range at the western border of known lands) lies a mysterious country called Emnalkh. The Emnalkhe are presumed to be of the same allegiance as the savage folk, as occasionally their chariots, drawn by freakishly huge and aggressive goats, have been seen among the ranks of the great wildmen armies, such as those of the Antlered Lord or Ebane Bear-heart. The Emnalkhe themselves, when observed, are even paler than the white-skinned savage folk, and are also rather small in comparison to the legendarily monstrous axemen of the hill country and the tall people of the wildman side of the Frontier. Their dress is also made from goat wool, and their most fearsome warriors, who are seated directly upon a large buck goat and armed with broadswords, always wear iron helmets that bear goat horns. There have even been a large number of reports that testify that found on the bodies of dead Emnalkhe warriors are small silver figures made in the shape of a man with hooves and goat-horns. This strongly suggests that goats are not only crucial to Emnalkhe culture, but that they are the very heart of it.
To the east of Emnalkh lie the Land’s Teeth, the tallest mountains in the known world (including the famously mountainous lands of Torbenrâm beyond the Raging Sea). The people that live in the mountains themselves are entirely dependent on nomadic wandering for food, unlike people of the lower country, who can settle in one place for as long as a season before moving on, or the people of the border, who live in the same place perpetually. The mountain-born are, besides possibly the Emnalkhe, the only savage folk who do not live alongside the Green, for their plants are sparse and tough. Many exotic and dangerous beasts, such as the ice cat, the dire boar, and the umhir, a huge carnivorous bird that is similar to the rukka, live in these harsh lands, and the mountain-born tribes are few and far between. Their warriors are usually armed with stone javelins that are thrown with such terrifying force that they can punch right through iron armour. At the same time, these javelins will also crack into shards, and thus, while they kill the targeted soldier, they also become useless. The mountain-born live on various plateaus that sit below the true mountains and above the valleys. The actual mountains are impossible to cross at all times of year, and even the most friendly, kind explorer from civilized lands is not permitted to cross the passes into Emnalkh, for reasons unknown.
Lower, beyond the mountains themselves, lie the fair, grassy valleys called the Scarred Lands, as they are filled with countless shallow, broad lakes that, when seen from the momentous point of view of the mountain-born, look like gouges into the landscape. The lakes are home to silvery, tiny fish that are eaten whole by the Nïlanhe, the folk native to the region. The earth of the valleys is rather thin, so no trees can grow there. The Nïlanhe practice a rough form of agriculture, rearing cattle of smaller size and thicker fur than those of the low country and nurturing the few, hardy agricultural plants that can exist in the soil of the valleys. When the fangs of winter settle in, the Nïlanhe retreat to caves, which they only occasionally range out of to hunt. Nïlanhe warriors are more numerous than the javelin-throwers of the mountain-born, and their skill as archers, using bows made of specially treated cattle horn, is not to be questioned by any that wish to survive. The Green who live in the Scarred Lands are few in number and do not often come in contact with the Nïlanhe.
Even further down, the soil becomes rich enough to support trees. The ground in these lands is filled with large boulders that have gradually made their way down from the Land’s Teeth, and many swift, chill rivers run down through the area from the melting ends of the ice rivers. The land is cloaked by dark forests of gigantic, ancient pines and firs, and the landscape beneath the trees is unearthly, quiet, and bare. During the summer, one of the most important events among the wildmen occurs: salmon will make an astonishing trek from the Varimpan Gulf in Kâryos, up the Meghlar River, and then to the foothills of the Land’s Teeth through the Meghlar’s various tributaries. As the salmon swarm through the rivers, there is an explosion of feeding among both beasts and men. Though some fish are caught by the wildmen of the lowlands, the vast majority are carefully netted by the men of the hills, who are called the Böthrem. Böthreme salmon are usually gutted, dried, and then traded mainly to the Nïlanhe and the mountain-born, although in times of famine salmon are also given to the Anïlthrah, the men of the lowlands. Warfare among the Böthrem, like that of the Green, is clan-based, as is their society. However, the Böthrem follow a strict code of honour concerning warfare, unlike the Green: anyone that is unable to wield weapons is spared from the blade. The Böthrem are famous for their axe-wielding warriors, who go into a psychotic rage induced by a strange combination of rare herbs. Besides their axemen, called the Ithred, the Böthrem also can marshal the most redoubtable infantry in the known world. The winters of the hills are renowned for their bitterness, and only the mountain-born endure worse weather. Thus, their soldiers are trained to simply forage wherever they can, and they have a near-inhuman endurance towards unpleasant weather. The Green in the hill country are more numerous than those of the Scarred Lands, and they are more friendly to the humans of the area.
As the hills begin to level out and the pines and firs give way to trees that shed their leaves in winter, the people change as well. Here, the Anïlthrah dwell, and they are most numerous among the wildmen east of Emnalkh. They are also the most warlike, far outstripping even the contentious Böthreme raiders. Anïlthrahe warriors can destroy whole villages during a raid on the Frontier, and although they obey a similar code of honour to that of the Böthrem, there is one major difference: male children and infants are also slain, since if they were to grow to adulthood, they would doubtless wish to avenge themselves. The Anïlthrah are sublimely convinced of the physical weakness of women. This is opposed to the Nïlanhe, the Böthrem and the mountain-born, who are all very equal in all matters of life. The Anïlthrah are the least nomadic of the four groups; they will remain in one area for as long as it remains habitable. The Anïlthrah have the most eastern type of warriors among the savage folk, who are extraordinarily similar to the elite cavalry in service of the Udonic barons, the Vorimâ. However, while the Vorimâ usually cover almost their entire body and horse in armour, the Anïlthrahe cavalry, simply termed enebraoh, simply wear helmets that leave the eyes and ears open, with a single narrow slit for breathing, as well as armour about their chest and their steed’s head, throat, and chest. Thus, while the Vorimâ horses move rather slowly in combat, the enebraoh can rapidly manoeuvre, turn, and kill; their horses are descended from the same stock as Vorimâ’e war-horses, and thus have the same astonishing physical attributes, but without the extra, tiring weight from the armour. The enebraoh are the nightmares of the Frontier, and have almost always defeated the Vorimâ in their favoured form of battle, ambush, because of their agility and burning fanaticism. The Green in the low country are very numerous, but do not partake in the savage feuds of the border, except of course when the trees are violated.
Relations between the various groups of the savage folk have not always been cordial; the Böthrem and Anïlthrah occasionally refer to a time that is presumed to have been before the rise of Udonä, when their two peoples are engaged in what must have been a war of catastrophic proportions. They also refer to Ebane as “the Peacemaker.” Thus, it is assumed that Ebane helped raise his mighty army by ending the conflict between the people of the lowlands and the people of the hills. The mountain-born are also possessed of a strong dislike for the Böthrem; it appears, by delving into myths of the two people, that the ancestors of the mountain-born were actually Böthreme once, but were driven from their lands for some forgotten or concealed event involving the death of a chieftain. What little can be found of the Emnalkhe calls them “blasphemers,” and refers to a “flight from the valleys, to foreign lands.” If this is true, it might mean that the divine goat figure of the Emnalkhe is not merely a representation of one of the Twelve, but is in fact a different deity, and their worship of this deity caused the Emnalkhe to be forced from the Scarred Lands. However, if the Emnalkhe are descended from heretical Nïlanhe, why are they different in appearance from the valley people? Perhaps there was interbreeding between the natives of the far western lands and the Emnalkhe; perhaps the people were not Nïlanhe at all, but a separate group of savage folk since forgotten from the memories of the people dwelling east of the mountains.
Gods of the Savage Folk
The Soul of the Wild is the central god of the Green and the savage folk, regarded as god of beasts and the wildmen and lord of the wilderness. It is written in myths of the wildmen that it is one of the Twelve Gods, and is responsible for the gift of life to all things that live. Its counterpart is Sranyi, goddess of the weather and seasons, who granted the gift of sentience to the first humans out of pity for their weak physical form. The cause of seasons, according to the wildmen, is that every year, Sranyi exhausts herself by renewing the seal on the Warring Gods, whom the Twelve imprisoned long ago. The goddess’ exhaustion causes the blossom of summer to wilt into autumn, and then fade into winter. However, when she regains her strength, the world experiences spring once more. Sranyi is described as having three avatars: the Lord of the Heavens, a monstrous male eagle; the Ice Maiden, a woman of pale skin, white hair, and nakedness who wanders the Land’s Teeth and only shows herself to those trapped in blizzards in those peaks that she wishes to save; and her idol, an ancient, female statue carved from a boulder of the Scarred Lands. Her idol sits in the Scarred Lands, far from any settlement, but is frequently visited by people from all areas of the Wild. Sranyi values wisdom and meaningful sacrifice most.
The Soul of the Wild itself is a force of mystery and power. Worshipped by the light of the full moon, its priests, the thruima, don antlers, bearskins or cloaks of ice cat furs and become beasts. These rites were actually witnessed by Berig ir Câmos, a Kârye explorer, and he has reported that the thruima do not merely act like beasts, but transform into them, while the air becomes alive with a magic that causes plants to grow rapidly and creatures to be thrown into a frenzy of one of the Primal Acts, as described by the thruima: feasting, killing, or mating. The Soul of the Wild is described as once having been corporeal in the world as the Horned Wolf, but after the fall of the Betrayer, he left the world along with the other members of the Twelve. However, before he left, he sang a sacred, wordless elegy for the lost innocence of the world. It is believed by the wildmen that this song echoed strongest in the wilderness, particularly in the sacred meadows and groves which the Horned Wolf had blessed. The Soul of the Wild is referred to as having been a male while in the form of the Wolf, but having shed gender when it retreated from the physical world. The Soul of the Wild has no avatars but Amethfal, the most ancient tree in the Wild, which sits, gnarled and twisted, at the heart of a quiet meadow somewhere in the low country. Pilgrimages to the most holy site in the faith of the wildmen are surprisingly sporadic, but then again, only thruima are actually allowed to touch the sole avatar of the Wild’s very spirit. All values are those of the Soul of the Wild.
The Twins are, as described by the wildmen, the creators of the world, who crafted it from ash, water and stone. They are diametric but pure beings: representing light and shadow, emptiness and existence, male and female, and death and life. The avatars of the Twins, as described by the wildmen, are the Sun and the Moon, and thus the Twins are revered as the source of all light. Because of the odd savage belief that the Sun is a great ball of flame, fires are treated as tiny, irregular suns, and thus, it is believed that the Twins are actually physically present within all flame. The wildmen also, as mentioned above, believe that the Presence is simply another name for the Twins, and this, in savage eyes, helps explain why the priests of the Presence cannot cast divine magic. Besides the Presence, the Twins are also identified with Kyeza of the Izruh. Thruima that revere the Twins in particular express their worship with incredible bonfires by day or night. Occasionally, these bonfires might be mixed with a great worship of the Soul, resulting in a spectacular, surreal celebration of the gods. The Twins’ primary values are restraint and kindness.
Htoran is the god of the seas, lakes, rivers, swamps, and water in general. He is present in large bodies of water, and fishermen of the wildmen are his most fervent worshippers. He once walked the world as a strange, amphibious man who blessed areas of water and watched over people who depended on water for their livelihood. If there are few fish to be found in an area that usually has many, it is routine to drown a person in Htoran’s name once a moon until the fish return. Thruima that worship Htoran alongside the Soul of the Wild are known for surviving on a diet of solely aquatic plants and animals. Htoran has three avatars: his idol, a carved image of his original form of an amphibious man, which sits at the bottom of a lake in the wilds between the low country and the hills; the Shaker, a great, living statue who dwells at the bottom of the sea and protects mankind by eternally battling a Warring God who had escaped from his subterranean prison, their struggle causing the sea to slosh about, occasionally burst forth in impossibly huge waves, and also rarely triggering the shaking of the earth; and the Silver Wave, a massive, male, scaled shark that, once in a lifetime, swims up the Meghlar, while all fishing villages that give him offerings of fish experience a blossoming in their harvest. Htoran’s primary values are flexibility and determination.
Kagdloi is the spirit of the earth, rock, metals and jewels. Like the Soul of the Wild, it is sexless, and was unique among the Twelve in that it assumed no avatar in the dawn of days. Kagdloi is a very peaceful force, and is generally consumed in its eternal task to contain the Warring Gods. Those thruima that worship Kagdloi along with the Soul consider cutting and polishing gems an act of great reverence for Kagdloi, and their gem-cutting abilities are testified by the great worth of what are called “thruima’e stones” by jewel experts. Kagdloi bears no avatar except for the very land itself, and worship of the Heart is always performed with eyes firmly fixed on the ground. Kagdloi values fortitude and patience above all else.
Dlutark is god of war and killing, and is the only god whose avatars are all male. His holy objects are all weapons, and spilling blood in combat is the ultimate form of worship of Dlutark. His emotions are as mercurial as his speed, and it was he who most helped to defeat the Warring Gods. It is he who allows hatred and anger to blossom in the hearts of man into bloodlust, and when there is war, his strength grows and he grants more power to both forces, further fanning the flames of conflict. His thruima are expert warriors, and test themselves by seeking conflict or training in new forms of combat. Dlutark is identified with the Izruh god, Tukharl the Wind-Breath. The avatars of Dlutark are two: his idol, a roaring, wildcat-headed man who bears a sword in one hand and a severed head in the other; and Tormachedal (meaning ‘destroyer’), a massive, mythical sword that is reputed to have a great ruby at the end carved as the face of Dlutark. However, Tormachedal is miraculous in two ways: the carved ruby can speak, and the blade will always grant victory to its bearer. The values of Dlutark are valour and might.
Asipawra is the force of death, and because it has an even balance of male and female avatars, it is referred to without gender. Thruima of Asipawra are similar to the Cold sect of the Uryokeshil of the Izruh: they are expert morticians and necromancers. Asipawra is identified with Yirokemh of the Izruh, and also the Black Man of civilized folklore. The avatars of Asipawra are its idol, a great, male form carved from ebony that sits on a great, rocky hill in the lands of the Böthrem, and Ethebral, meaning ‘ash wind’, a great, grey doe who leaves only death in her wake. It is interesting to note that death is not said to be a man who comes along and tells someone that their time is up, as the Black Man does, or a quiet voice that comes to those on the brink of death, like Yirokemh, but instead a great, neutral force that simply looks over all that lives and severs those that must die from their bodies. The values of Asipawra are implacability and detachment.
The Three are the gods of justice, punishment, and vengeance. They are strange gods, as they are described as being very similar, yet still distinct. They are often described as being the three deities of law, and their thruima are almost always judges or executioners. Their only avatars are their idols, which are three heads, seated upon a single body that holds the double-headed axe, used as a tool of execution by the wildmen, in its right hand. In the left, the idol bears a Tear of the Soul (this is the savage name for the cornflower, which they believe blossomed from a single tear of the Soul of the Wild when he witnessed the shattering of the world and the corruption in the hearts of men), the flower being a symbol of peace, which the Three seek to protect. In addition, the eyes of Justice are missing, while Punishment’s are closed, and Vengeance’s are open and staring with rage. The idol sits at the Crag, a massive stone in the Scarred Lands that was the site of some mythical execution of the past. The values of the Three are neutrality and decisiveness.
Finally, Bordya is the god of parenthood, creation, and love. Her thruima are always female, and serve as midwives, expert crafters, and also sanctifiers of marriage. Bordya is described as having created the first living things from water and clay. To animals she added iron dust and rock. The water and iron dust combined and became blood in animals while it transformed into juices in plants, and clay transformed into flesh. In animals, rock turned into bones. Bordya’s sole avatar is her idol, a bent yet beautiful old woman who is cradling an infant that lies high in the plateaus of the Land’s Teeth. Her greatest values are compassion and mercy.
***
The North
Torbenrâm
The North
Torbenrâm
“From rock and snow, from tree and sea, and from iron and flame were we born. As the Root of the Mountains wills it, we will do. For we are the chosen, the shapers of dreams.” – a common ending to Torbenrâme prayers.
***
The actual origin of the painted men is shrouded in mystery. Their myths describe the Root of Mountains, their main god, breathing life into stones and shaping them into humans, but having shown special favour to those that had begun their lives by worshipping him rather than dashing about, consumed with curiosity. Those that worshipped him were given the mountains that he had raised from the surrounding lands, as well as the thick forests that cloaked those mountains. The men of Torbenrâm tell that they once raised a mighty civilization that ranged from the mountains to Yugremã to even distant Víjkanwír, and indeed, there is a period in ancient Yugremã’e history that describes a time of rule by foreigners (known as the Oppression), which must have been galling to the proud people of the far North.
The horse is the heart of Torbenrâme culture, and the painted men decorate it by tying in small bone and gem ornaments. Often, a painted man will colour his horse with his own tribal markings. The Torbenrâme believe the horse to be a gift to mankind from Mikdaz, the god of the moon, in return for the construction of a mighty temple to him in ancient times. In fact, the very name of the horse, in Torbenrâmic, is a corrupted form of izuri-yal, meaning ‘moon gift.’ Once, the Torbenrâme refused to give a horse to any but a king, and then it was always a gelded male. Nowadays, however, long after the collapse of Torbenrâme civilization and a unifying government, along with the weakening power of the mystics and religion in general, the Torbenrâme happily sell horses for a steep price. However, their creatures are almost always of a superior breed and training, and so they are worth the expense.
Many centuries ago, before the Warded Era, the Torbenrâme records began a millennium after those of Yugremã. These records have often bothered scholars of the Creed, as they seem to illustrate a semi-advanced civilization during the Drifting Years, when no such advanced culture was supposed to exist. The earliest Torbenrâme records are damaged, vague, or missing, but a few good ones seem to illustrate a devastating war of several city-states, which was ended by a mystic that marshalled an army and crushed the weakened combatant cities. The mythical first king of Torbenrâm, simply called Vur’Buditra (‘the first’), forged a theocratic nation from the mountains, and also established the religious code of law that was to govern the land for centuries.
For many years, the kingdom was to be a minor inconvenience to the Yugremã’e, who were far more worried about the tribesmen of the Dambïq, who could plunge out of the grasslands at any time and rip the empire apart. However, approximately two hundred years before the Warded Era began, the cavalry of the mountains smashed through the southern border of the empire, burning the defenceless farmlands and demolishing city after mighty city, until the entirety of Yugremã was ruled. At this time, Yugremã was still healing from a bloody reunification of its composite five regions, which had slowly drifted apart since the death of the Eighth Ashryn (the Eight Ashrynu were the god-emperors of the ancient Empire of Yugremã). Eventually, Vur’Wikabante (‘the conqueror’), the current king of Torbenrâm, was able to claim that he ruled an empire from the Raging Sea to the Zibrimto Gulf. However, he did not stop there. Once the ambitious king-turned-emperor was sure of his domination of Yugremã, he led his soldiers in a valorous, massive march across the Targemãl, the enormous desert that sits between Yugremã and the mountains of Víj, which cradle the great, forested realm of Víjkanwír. Vur’Wikabante soon crossed the mountain passes of Víj, while leaving behind towns that had sprung up from the Targemãl’s oases and landless Yugremã’e who had nowhere else to go but follow the trail of the conqueror.
In a year, Vur’Wikabante methodically conquered all of the ten cities of Víjkanwír, installing one of his generals as lord of the region and a subordinate to the emperor. By doing this, Vur’Wikabante ended the continual warfare that had been tearing apart Víjkanwír and created the precursors to the royal line of Víjkane kings. After this, Vur’Wikabante’s dynasty, who took their ancestor’s name for theirs, reigned over a united empire that spanned the North and helped limit the Tulash, shielding Northern civilization from invasion for five hundred years. However, in the year 374, not long before Obel the Great began his process of unification, the Yugremã’e rose up and deposed the now-decadent and feeble Wikabante dynasty.
With that, the empire shattered, and Víjkanwír, Yugremã and Torbenrâm collapsed into their original states, albeit with the former now unified. This also marked the end of the golden age of Torbenrâme kings, who only reigned until 786 W.E., when the last great king died childless, and the resulting dynastic war ended not with a resolution, but an economic collapse. It is curious to note that at the same time, Yugremã’e records reported a devastating famine and a darkened sky, while Víjkanwír experienced a sudden and barbaric civil war that resulted in the reconstruction of Víjkane government. The Tulash also report this period in their folklore, calling it the Woeful Time, when cannibalism became rampant among their people. Apparently, a continent-wide famine swept across the North, but strangely did not affect the young Alliance of Nations that had united the Faithful Nations in the south.
With the fall of the Torbenrâme kings in 786, the men of the mountains retreated into a tribal state, and soon adopted the practice of painting themselves with the colours of their respective tribe so they could tell each other apart in battle. The iron grip of religion that had dominated the old empire was loosened, and contact with outsiders became friendlier. Now Torbenrâme would gladly trade horses, and thus, cavalry soldiers suddenly sprung up, first in Yugremã, then in Víjkanwír, and eventually in the Dambïq. Soon, the horse became central to the Tulashe way of life, and their ability at lightning raids became nightmarishly skilful.
In Torbenrâm itself, there’s been a very slow development in civilization. As new, outside innovations are introduced, the tribes become gradually more advanced. However, there’s also the pressing issue of unification: if there is to be true advancement in Torbenrâm, the old kingdom must be remade. The constant tribal warfare is detrimental to progress, and only unity can rebuild Torbenrâm’s greatness.
