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| The North: Siril, Velossen | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 4 2010, 02:45 AM (435 Views) | |
| Davick | Jun 4 2010, 02:45 AM Post #1 |
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Squire
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(Written and created by Elresir) Message from Elresir: This is old and extremely shit. Siril: Introduction Siril is a small nation far to the North of the lands of Velossen. This unyielding snow-covered land is known to have harsh weather and incredibly cold temperatures all year round, particularly during the winter. It is filled with thick forests, daunting and leafless, streams that somehow keep from freezing over, and a dark clouded sky that rarely sees sunlight. Siril is inhabited by many creatures that have adapted to the cold, such as enormous bears with fur thicker than any known to Alnoroth, deer, rabbits, foxes, wolves, owls, snow leopards, and various other creatures. The men and women of Siril are an almost tribal people, living in sturdy huts fortified by wood or stone, depending on the resources available to them. Though they understand the common language, Siri typically speak in the old tongue. An ancient language once spoken thousands of years ago, Siril is one of the only places in the world Iiasiri is still heard. The people can have hair colors ranging from the gold of the sun to the black of night, are tall of stature, and have green, blue, or amber colored eyes. Their clothing is primarily fashioned from the hides of animals, most often bears, for they are a civilization of highly skilled trackers, hunters, and warriors. Ipella is their Goddess, and a terrifying one at that. She shows no mercy, feels no pain, and inspires courage among all Siri. Ipella is the extreme depiction of Siri strength. The Siri are also skilled in forging weapons from steel found in their mountains and wood in their many forests, and thus have a wide assortment of tools available to them, from swords and spears to axes and bows. Siril is not ruled by one leader, but by thirteen, so titled Nysir. Each of the Nysir rule over a region of land that usually consists three to four villages. Nysir answer only to the revered Oracle of Pelethea. The Siri, many of whom are trained to use a sword at a very young age, do not differentiate men from women in battle. Women are just as capable and reliable as men, their great agility and speed making up for a lack of strength. ![]() The Goddess Ipella and the Formation of Siril ![]() In days long forgotten, when the seas were one and the lands had no rulers, kings, or emperors... there were Gods. Alores, Kaleia, Cella, Pordos, Lorosa, Ril, Minnar, Toran, Enciri, Euvren, Bein and Ipella. Each of the Gods had a divine purpose and a region of control. Ipella is the Goddess of war, unity, and strength. She stands tall and magnificent, a fair woman with flowing yellow hair, intense blue eyes, and soft, lightly toned skin. Ipella would watch over her soldiers with the eternally loving gaze of a mother, for each and every warrior is her child, and she cherishes them above all else. If a man or woman is not fit to wield a sword, unable to effectively fight against one who threatens their existence, Ipella turns her cold eyes away from them forever, for she is a cruel Goddess, without mercy and without compassion. When metal was new and the ocean still untouched by man, the skies burned red as brother and sister took up arms against eachother. Deceit, betrayal, and heated arguments set the foundations of their rivalry, and when mighty Toran shed his sister Cella's blood in a fit of rage, the War of the Gods began, and Alnoroth would be their field of battle. Fighting erupted far and wide and threatened to ravage the lands of Alnoroth forever. A time of darkness and peril consumed the world, each bloody year bringing about the death of a God or Goddess. At last, when only a handful remained, the war was finally done. Ipella, responsible for the deaths of many of her siblings, retreated to the North and forged a land as cold and unfeeling as she was, and it would be named Siril. Siril would forever be Ipella's domain, and the Siri her people. No other warrior would receive her blessing or burden her heart with love. Only the men and women of Siril were deserving of such honor, forced to endure the harshest realities of life from birth. The people of Siril were fashioned in likeness to the Goddess, by her own hand. A breeding ground for the strongest fighters the world would know. They would learn to hunt, track, survive, and adapt to their environment, and any who could not were not worthy of Ipella's gift. The Thirteen Nysir and Villages of Siril ![]() Youthful and stalwart fighters, aged war veterans, or born spiritual and intellectual leaders, the Nysir have ruled Siril for over two-hundred years. Numbering ten and three, each man or woman is mysteriously chosen by the Oracle of Pelethea. The Oracle's word is unattested, as hers soar higher than even the Nysir themselves. The reasons are typically unknown, most often accompanied with vague messages that stir further confusion. Any who challenge Peletha's wisdom are often and swiftly executed for their lack of faith. The Siri have long followed a path of unity, both on and off the battlefield; if one should falter - physically or mentally - that man or woman becomes a weakness. It is a rare occurrence when one of the Nysir must be replaced. The most common reason is death. The only other possible way to remove a Nysir is if the Oracle of Peletha officially rebukes the leader in question, removing them of their control and usually leading to execution. Each of the thirteen leaders rules over a vast region of land consisting of three to four villages. It is their responsibility to maintain the well-being of their people and settle any disputes among them. Every five winters the Nysir gather in Istalla, the largest village and self-proclaimed capital of Siril. Istalla is nestled in a massive valley between the Koreth mountains in the far East and is a natural source of steel mined from the bowels of Koreth. Here the Nysir discuss any and all matters regarding the nation, including relations with lands beyond their borders. An act of war may only be enforced through unanimous agreement at this meeting. Furthermore, before any conflict can take place, the Oracle of Pelethea must also agree and give her blessings from the War Goddess, Ipella. Apart from the congregation at Istalla, the Nysir see little of one another, too burdened by their regional duties to step away for long. Though at times these ways may not be understood by everyone, they have served Siril well and prevented several catastrophes in the past. Siril is made up of forty-eight villages, along with dozens of smaller encampments or settlements in outlying territories. Of these villages, three are considered the largest and most crucial to the survival of Siril. Istalla is the first, constantly supplying Siri with weapons and holding one of only two ports in Siril. The second is Tileth, built at foot of the Nestine mountains in the North. While these mountains have also been blessed with natural ore, it is capable of being broken down into little more than stone. Therefore, as Istalla supplies steel for weapons and tools, Tileth offers useful structural crafting materials and is home to Ilit, the great Northern watchtower that looks over the sea and the dreaded Isle of Kyne. The last village is Alvir, situated near the South-Western edge of Siril. This region is known for one of the land's most immense forests. From a seemingly endless supply of wood, Alvir produces some of the strongest bows. As Alvir also happens to hold Siril's second port, its people are capable of crafting swift and sturdy ships right next to the sea. The village's close proximity to the Aberdeen border gives it a certain strategic value as well. The Oracle of Pelethea Across the south-eastern plains of Ledea and deep into the Elirek forest, the Oracle of Pelethea sees all. Her home, considered a sacred place, is hidden by a thick maze of wide, towering trees, and is only discovered by those deemed worthy to find her. The Oracle is not chosen by any mortal being, but by the Goddess herself, as ancient texts would proclaim. When the mark of Ipella appears - an ancient symbol in Iiasiri meaning 'Blood of the Gods' - the child in question has their destiny sealed from the very beginning of their existence. This girl must be unspoiled by lust or blood, pure in every form imaginable. From the very time of their birth, a child bearing this symbol leads a life dedicated to Ipella. It has never been know exactly why or how each woman is chosen, for the people of Siril leave the mystery unquestioned, believing it to be the choice of the Goddess herself. Due to this belief of divine intervention, the Oracle of Pelethea is a woman of the utmost power. Her words are said to strike fear into the guilty and pierce the soul of any who stand in her presence. The Oracle is only seen by those destined to look upon her, for her purpose is not to foresee the happenings of every being in Siril. Her purpose is as divine as she is infallible, led by the Goddess so that she may guide her people towards a greater goal. Many claim that she speaks for Ipella. It is thought that the Goddess and the Oracle are joined together in constant unity, sharing thoughts and even emotions. Should one anger the Oracle, they may very well risk incurring the wrath of Ipella. The Oracle is cared for by her closest followers, Siri who have devoted their lives in servitude to Ipella. In her domain, she is treated as a Queen, never having to use her own means to obtain anything. For the most hardened of Siri wishing to give their life to the Oracle, they serve as personal protectors and are willing to sacrifice their life however necessary to keep the Oracle safe. Though it may be observed by those closest to her that she is not always attuned to the 'here and now', her words are the wisest in all the land, holding uncanny truths that give credit to her power and enigmatic ways. ![]() General Information Kvala - Terrifying beasts that have roamed the frozen lands of Siril for many centuries, Kvala are recognized among the people as companions. It is believed that these beasts are distantly related to Siril's mountain bears. Their massive body is protected by thick black fur, making them incredibly resilient to Siril's cold weather. Their heads are round, with a snout resembling that of a bear's and ears that flop over and hang down the side of their necks. Pronounced and elongated fangs make these animals appear vicious and threatening, supported by rows of sharp teeth. However, Kvala are not nearly as aggressive as their bear cousins or the wolves of Timeria. They are a creature that demands respect, and while they do not usually attack without provocation, taunting them or assuming that they are merely pets to be ridden will earn the offender a swift death. Kvala have long legs that are proportional to their body and carry much more muscle than those of a horse. Their paws, nearly twice the size of a Siri man's hand, are identical to those of the the mountain bears, with claws as sharp as the point of a spear. The power in their legs makes them a remarkably fast creature, though they do best in a terrain where their paws are able to easily keep the snow from slowing them down, making horses (a foreign creature to Siril) obsolete in this land. When approached carefully and treated in a respectful manner, most Kvala will become close companions to their riders. They are amazingly loyal to the one they follow, and therefore will let no other man or woman ride them. It is custom for a warrior to tame a Kvala shortly after completing their final test in Aechem. Aechem - Aechem, by the head of the spear in the old tongue, is a way of life and a style of fighting among the Siri, taught since the beginning of their creation and said to be passed down from Ipella to the first warrior of Siril, Akilae. When a child reaches the age of ten, be it a boy or a girl, they are taken to their village's Isarr to learn Aechem. It is a strict teaching, cruel and perilous for those unfit to carry a weapon. All is as it must be in Aechem; nothing can be held back, whether it be in regards to strength, speed, or knowledge. Aechem thrusts a spear into the heart of naivety and ignorance, forcing its followers to realize the truth behind everything. The practice of this ancient tradition never ceases to be expanded upon, as there is always more to learn; when a child reaches the age of sixteen, his or her guidance under the Isarr is complete. They are given no armor, only clothes on their back barely capable of keeping them warm, and a chosen weapon that carries with it their life. Sent alone into the unknown, the child must come back to their people having defeated a threat to Siril, and having tamed their own Kvala companion. Many do not return. Those that do are welcomed as brothers and sisters, immortalized for one night in celebration of their victory. A warrior taking the path of Aechem knows his or her own weaknesses and learns to use them as weapons. Let the enemy know the weakness and fear it. This technique is unknown to the rest of the world, consisting of quick, accurate strikes in key areas of the opponent's body. A highly civilized culture might even consider their fighting to be fine-tuned to scientific perfection, never faltering and never wasting a swing of their blade. While this is true among both men and women, the latter tend to possess more speed and agility than their brothers. Siri men find themselves standing on the front lines in a large-scaled confrontation, lined up in a tight defensive position with their women hiding between the ranks and striking out at the attackers without warning. Aechem must be honored and taught to every citizen of Siril, even to those unfit for the caste of warriors. In Aechem, all will find their place among their people. All will serve a specific purpose in their lifetime that will come to benefit others, for to follow Aechem is to unite together as a people. The Isarr - The most trusted warriors under a Nysir's command, the Isarr are an invaluable asset. While there is no limit to how many may exist within a single 'tribe', two seems to be the most common number. Isarr serve as sharp-minded advisers to the Nysir, and are often the best of his fighters. Isarr have many duties within the Siri structure, most importantly of all is the organization and training of the Warrior caste. In support of this primary purpose, they are also responsible for the teaching of Aechem. The Castes - Siri civilization is structured into a caste system. Even a people comprised of skilled fighters needs men and women to gather food, be it through the difficult task of farming, or by hunting, others to forge weapons, still more to construct buildings, some to trade with other villages, and those to gather wood from the forests and valuable mineral such as iron from the mountains. While all Siri learn Aechem, only those of the Warrior caste follow through with the right of passage. Most respected of all the castes is, naturally, the Warriors, for they protect Siril from threats far and wide, and are ever responsible for the safety of their people. However, unlike most caste systems, in Siril the people are allowed to choose a place among their people. As Aechem teaches, all Siri have a place, and it is, for the most part, their decision which path they will take. Because of this, no caste is 'lower' or 'higher' than the other, but merely a distinction in terms of their duties. The only time choice is taken from a Siri is in the event that an imbalance arises in the system, such as having too many miners and not enough hunters. In this event the Nysir, or by extension his Isarr, will place individuals to the best of their ability. Turmoil in Siril A people divided, in chaos born, she will return. A broken land, a burning land, the fires will be the only light, and through destruction forged anew. We go now to war. - the last Oracle of Pelethea For the past sixteen years, the Siri have lived in uncertainty and darkness. Nysir have turned against eachother, and the land has been torn a dozen times over. It began with Vyr, the respected Nysir of Tileth. For centuries the Siri had been taught to fear the Kyne, savages inhabiting a small island just off Siril's northern coast. The Kyne were said to be created by Ipella's twin brother, Toran, who sought to punish her by inflicting a race of ritualistic madmen, cannibals who felt no empathy, sorrow, or mercy. In 150 years, no sign had ever been recorded of these supposed demons, but Vyr, being responsible for the watchtower of Ilit as all his predecessors had been, could not discard a sense of impending dread. When first he spoke to the Oracle, she assured him that while he was wise to have such fears, she did not foresee any imminent threat from the Kyne. "Return to Tileth, dearest Vyr," she spoke, a smile on her face, "for you are beloved by your people, and needed there above all else. Rest well; the Kyne will not trouble your thoughts tonight." And so Vyr did as the Oracle bade him to do, and returned home as soon as he was able. However, that night he had such nightmares as no man could forget, and visions of slaughter and horrific, inhumane acts of violence haunted his mind for days to come. Again the Nysir spoke to the Oracle, recanting to her the details of his terrible dreams, hoping she could give him some insight and quell his fears. She did just that, once more saying, "Return to Tileth, mightiest Vyr, for you are the strongest of your people, and needed there above all else. Be well and rest; the Kyne will not trouble your thoughts tonight." And Vyr obeyed. That night it was not frightful nightmares that woke him, but the sound of the watchtower's great warning bell resounding through the village. But they had already lost by the time the Nysir had drawn his weapon. Dozens of huts and Kvala-skin tents were ablaze, and pillars of black smoke reached toward the sky. The battle hadn't even begun by the time it was over, the warriors of Tileth managing to down only a handful of the Kyne before they retreated to their forsaken island. With them, the Kyne took men and, most abundant of all, women. The legends were clear on what would happen to them next, and Vyr could do naught but curse their name, and the Oracle's along with them. Vyr went mad with rage. Some even claim through his madness, the God Toran was able to influence the Nysir to do his bidding. True or not, Vyr betrayed his people all the same. One last time he visited the Oracle, distraught over the loss of so many of his people, as well as his only child. "All is as it must be." the Oracle said to him. "Go now, brave Vyr, and seek out the Kyne, as the Goddess wishes it to be." But this time he could not do as the Oracle asked. He could not send more Siri to their deaths by going to the mysterious Isle of Kyne, and in the end he was -not- brave enough. Consumed by rage, the Nysir drew his sword and plunged it into the Oracle's chest, the first and only time in Siril's history that the Oracle had been killed by one of her own. Without her leadership, Siril quickly plunged into chaos. The thirteen Nysir became lost in darkness. Though Vyr was eventually brought to justice by Nsyir Kelai'ikah, his deeds had forever changed the land. Disputes soon grew too heated for words to settle, and as new warriors rose up to claim a title of leadership over their region, diplomacy between the rulers became nearly impossible. For 16 years the Siri have been encompassed in a brutal war, seemingly without end. The divided people no longer strive for peace, but for rule over the land. A select few 'Nysir' have even gone so far as to forsake the Goddess Ipella, pledging themselves instead to Toran, God of deceit, hatred, and betrayal. These traitors, as they are called, have recently come together, creating a formidable and destructive force across Siril that threatens to bring to ruin thousands of years of tradition. After more than a decade of fighting, many Siri are hopeful - if waveringly so - for the return of an Oracle to impose the will of the Goddess. Edited by Elresir, Oct 19 2014, 04:50 PM.
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| Davick | Jun 4 2010, 03:09 AM Post #2 |
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Squire
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(Written and created by Arril) A brief history of the founding of the Northern Kingdoms, Velossen, and the House of Dralin: Few can say with any certainty of fact of who were the first settlers in the temperate climate of the northern kingdoms. Yet, what is clear is that some time several thousand years ago, a pale-skinned force of armored men landed on the shores to rest from their long whale hunts across the open sea. When they arrived, they marveled at the lush greenery, towering waterfalls, and abundant game, giving the Whale Cascades their common name. Over the next centuries, settlers arrived by the hundreds and thousands, setting up their own towns and communities, constructing stone castles, paving roads, and establishing alliances with the native people who lived farther north and more in land along larger rivers. In truth, the natives and the settlers looked very much alike; both were pale-skinned, but the new settlers had fairer eyes and lighter hair than their native counterparts. The natives, however, were able to acclimate their distant cousins to living in the colder, less forgiving climate north of modern Velossen. Despite their differences in language and custom, both groups gradually intermarried until their traditions and systems became one. Fortresses soon sprung up all across the land, as tribes or townships tried to lay claim to larger and larger portions of land. This gave way to armed raids, the strongest or richest of which could loosely be called armies, with Lords or Barons at their head. It was a patriarchal society based on land ownership and the force of arms. Politics were of the sword, the spear, and the bow. After a decade of warring factions, burned crops, and decimated cities, one man was stronger than all the rest: Braenon. Shortly after the sacking of Evanglade, Braenon declared himself to be King in the North, and chose an area of mostly flat land bordered by rivers and a large, unnamed forest. He would call his new capitol city Velossen, which according to the religious priests meant “The Dragon’s Head” in the ancient, now forgotten northern tongue. Braenon was able to unite barons and lords from as far South as the marshy Fane, to the very reaches of ancient Aberdeen into one giant kingdom. There were wardens in the south, east, west, and north. Braenon lived well into his eighties, and passed through several peaceful generations until the crown fell to the shoulders of a man named Neloan Dralin. King Neloan was a bookish man, and not at all the warrior king that his father had been. His elder brother died before he could ascend to the throne. Cities and towns were bustling with life, coffers were filling with gold, silver, and other treasures from northern conquests of the many island nations, and the abundance of southern trade from as far away as Daelgar and Persai. Up until this time, loyalty to the throne was a weak, loose thread. Alliance often shifted between local lordlings, and King Neloan found himself in the position of an arbiter more often than not, until a foreign force was so vast and menacing that it galvanized his people for centuries to come. At this time, Daelgar was a mighty empire which grew rich from foreign sea trade, slaves, and had unmatched naval supremacy along the southern coasts, reaching as far north as Old Port. Before the northern kingdoms could mobilize, the forces of Daelgar had pushed far into northern territory, conquering and plundering the wealth of the North as they went. Men, women, and children were either put to the sword or shipped south into slavery. Desperate, King Neloan called upon the last remaining lords to gather all of the forces they could muster, and bring them to a hastily constructed fort just north of Velossen. These houses would eventually evolve into the sworn, loyal bannermen of the House of Dralin, and their names are Holster, Kystor, and Gysha. The winter season was heavy, which slowed the southern advance, giving King Neloan and his remaining lords time to form a counter attack. Yet, even as King Neloan pushed his forces south, Daelgar’s forces pillaged the great city of Velossen. Up to the present day, it is the only recorded account of the city being sieged and then captured by a foreign enemy. Angered over the destruction of his great hall, King Neloan lashed out against the southern armies, his tenacity and doggedness unmatched on the battlefield. His weapon of choice was a spiked axe, which he wielded with deadly efficiency. Day by day, week by week, the northern armies gradually drove the forces of Daelgar back, south of the marshlands of The Fane, restoring northern unity to a now desolate, shattered land. Given the chance to crush his enemy forever, King Neloan was said to have taken one look at his weary, decimated army and remark, “I think I have made those southern bastards so sick of war that it will be generations hence before they turn to it again.” Some criticized him, but most were eager to return home and rebuild their burned out lives. For the rest of his reign, Neloan travelled extensively through the realm, commissioning building projects, and personally overseeing the reconstruction of Velossen. For this, he was given the title of Neloan The Builder. The Fall from Grace and Kinghood. Since the arrival of the first foreign settlers, and their subsequent assimilations with the native peoples, there had been a King in the north. Braenon and his band were the first men willing to traverse into the unknown and settle in the area that would eventually become Velossen. Braenon had passed his title down to several Kings of strength, and vigor, chief among these being King Neloan, The Savior of the North. After Neloan, the line of Kings continued on for some one hundred years before it eventually fell into decay and ruin. The last of the true Kings made an attempt at revenge by trying to conquer their bitter rival, Daelgar, and failed. The southern lords all rose up against him, crushed him, and forced him to relinquish his crown and seat of authority. For eighty years Velossen was a small speck of its former glory; it’s power was diminished, its prestige almost destroyed. It was then that Lord Robert Dralin gave birth to two sons; Ralor and Arril. Robert was an old man by the time his sons both reached maturity, and it was in Ralor’s twenty-nine year that his father was on his deathbed. Arril Dralin was twenty eight at the time. The old Lord had a higher affection for his second born, and had entrusted much of the responsibilities to the younger man, ensuring at least for himself that he could pass into the realm of the Gods in peace. Ralor, feeling cheated, struck back only hours after his father had died. With the rights of an heir and the force of the Velossen Guard behind him, he expelled Arril from the kingdom. From there, Ralor crowned himself as King in the North and began marshaling an army to wipe any dissent from the kingdom. His rule would last but four years, and in that time Arril garnered support from his father’s old bannermen, and from lords in the south. With a mighty host at his command, Arril declared himself the rightful Lord of Velossen, and marched against his own brother. While Arril and his lords were discussing a strategy to take Evanglade, a short, cloaked man with a long, white beard approached him. It was none other than his childhood mentor, Master Serianni Fellen. Master Fellen was an old man with a mystical air about him. Lord Arril had thought him killed, for his brother had put anyone suspected of disloyalty to the sword, but truth be told, the old man was canny and easily evaded the many traps set for him. On Fellen’s suggestion, Arril’s host switched their target from Evanglade to Velossen and held it under siege for six months before the gates were opened to him. Once within, he marched to the old citadel that his brother had turned into a kingly hall. It was there that he killed his own brother, for there was a madness in his brother’s eyes, a sort of deranged lunacy that if kept alive could cause the fatal destruction of the northern kingdoms. Before he killed his own blood, Arril convicted ‘The Mad King’ of treason, and blamed him for the torching of innocent towns and fiefdoms. Though he had been King for but four years, he had killed many hundreds, and at the time of his death, was promoting the spread of a southern faith born in dragons and fire and evil sorcery some one hundred and fifty years ago. Arril would spend the next six years rebuilding his kingdom by gaining the loyalty of those who served them. He re-instituted an old custom, that of Lords Justice. He would personally execute traitors, deserters, spies, and high criminals himself, and if his lords requested it, he would oversee the trials becoming the arbiter of life and death for many of his subjects. Above all, he called for stability, for a return to normalcy. The Gods of the Northern Kingdoms: There are no names for the gods in the northern kingdoms, save for those they share with Siril. They are sometimes referred to as the 'old gods’, or 'the gods of the wood'. There are no temples or statues dedicated to these gods. They are not depicted as deities and no offerings save those through word of mouth are given. To spoil anything in the North is to be wasteful, and is considered highly disrespectful to the spirits that guided Dralin’s ancestors to prosperity. The peoples of the North believe that the gods are with them always, and that their gods will see them through troubled times. Some say there are individual gods for every season; others say there are different spirits for water, sun, and earth. A common code was never truly written, nor will it ever be. The only recognizable form of worship is a trip to the Wolf's Wood for silent prayer by a great oak tree. It is not uncommon for people to worship the rare, but existing white wolves that prowl in the underbrush. The wolves themselves are not seen as gods, but rather as agents or bodies that the ancient gods could inhabit. Velossen and the Wolf's Wood: Wild game is plentiful here. Deer, boar, fox, and of course, wolves run unhindered through the vast woodlands. There is a certain respect for wolves in the northern lands and a hunter will not kill a wolf unless in dire need of food or protection. The Wolf's wood is made up of various species of heavy pine, oak, and maple trees. There is one tree, by the stream that runs through the Wolf's Wood, which is bigger than all the rest. It is said to be the place of the Gods and is highly respected and often traveled to. At the Velossen proper, on a raised hill lie the Castle and Keep of Velossen. It is here in the great hall of Lord Arril where he and his men meet each and every day for feasts, trials, training, and games. The training grounds, smithy, and barracks for the Velossen Guard are adjacent to this Grand Hall and surrounded by their own ring of small, thin wooden palisades. The walls are upwards of one hundred feet high and fifteen feet thick. They are made from ancient stone and said to be blessed with protective auras from the gods themselves. It is a fairly large city with a wide river acting both as a moat for two sides of the city’s defense, and as a main trade route to other cities, but it lacks the color and luster of the southern settlements. The only source of fresh song and tale come from the traveling harpists, singers, and performers who visit Velossen yearly during the southern festival season in large, grandiose caravans. The people who reside here are a generally law-abiding populace with comfortable living conditions. These people keep to themselves and are severely loyal to their Lord and will protect their land ferociously. Many commoners are farmers; their fields on the outskirts of the walled city. Others work with hides and furs as the winters are getting ever colder and bleaker. A select few carry the knowledge of metal-working. They craft armor, weapons, and other tools. There are only three smithies in the city. Although there is a great respect for most women, save they be whores or otherwise, they do not always carry an equal standing among men. It is a male-driven society overall, though there are exceptions. There is a wise man, known as Master Fellen, who resides himself in the lone tower of the Castle's Keep. He is the city's healer and master of lore. He also advises the Lord of Velossen on political matters as well as sending out letters to the other lords across the continent Major Houses: Dralin, Holster, Kystor, Gysha, Vale. Major Lords/Lady’s: Arril Dralin, The Lord Protector of the Northern Kingdoms, seated in Velossen. His standard is that of two white wolves pouncing on a field of gray. Lord Agrass Holster, a strong-armed, aggressive bannerman to the House of Dralin. Loyal since the Daelgar Incursions. Lord Haldin Kystor, a manipulative man with several thousand footmen and archers under his command. Able to control traffic in and out of the former Aberdeen territories from his seat in Dreadfort. Lady Gysha, an only child of the deceased Lord Conin Gysha. A vane, aging woman, Lady Gysha has taken on several husbands, and fathered three separate children, the youngest of whom is the young Sir Lennard, who took his father’s name and may inherit the territories of the Evanglade. His elder brother is sickly, and his younger sister is a bastard child. Lord Stalen Vale, the second most powerful lord in all of the northern kingdoms. He is tied with Lord Haldin Kystor in the size of his forces, and in the amount of gold he can take in as an income. His 'ace in the hole' rests with how large his family is. With several sons and daughters, his influence and power is spread across several different areas where his children reign as lordlings and knights. Minor Houses: Voelo, Tegar, Devinshire, Kingston, Kaen, Simmil, Lucha, Dolton. Minor Lords: Lord Gregor Voelo, a whiskered man deep into his 50’s with a fistful of young sons whose interests are as diverse as there are colors in a rainbow. His seat is in Port Castle, and he holds indirect sway over portions of the shipping trade into and out of Old Port. He and his men are noted seamen, and supply the North with up to half of their war and trade ships. Lord Haidrin Tegar, an influential man with two sons and three daughters. His seat of power is Whitecliff, which is located between the Rilas and Velas rivers, making him an ideal political contact for any business south of the “The Port”. Lady Sinea Devinshire, a young. Impetuous youth who unexpected seized her dying father’s estates after a brooding conflict with her many siblings. Lord Simmil of Fort Pene, a loyal lordling fond of coin and women. Lord Fenrin Lucha of Herron, which comprised the western half of the former Aberdeen territory. A young, loyal lord who proved himself in battle by saving members of Arril’s train, and as such, was rewarded with the aforementioned territory. Lord Regar Dolton, of the Carcythian Mountains, who now oversees the eastern half of the former Aberdeen territory. A man of middle-age and common roots, he was awarded the pieces of conquered land because a generation or two before Aberdeen’s demise, Dolton’s father lost all of their lands to the barbarians. |
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