AND MY AXE

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[indent]As long as they have existed, the Seolhi have been on the outskirts of Magnar. The Seolhi isles run along Magnar's Western shores, making up an archipelago whose craggy mountains breaks apart sea storms, sparing their Eastern neighbors the damp winds the Seolhi isles are known for. Their harsh, stormy homelands are not by chance or choice; In the earliest years, the Greatfather granted his son Seolh domain of a small, barren formation of islands as punishment for blinding his brother Eshkag in an unarmed duel of strength. Believed to be born from the line of the wickedest of the Greatfather's sons, Seolhi culture has been inherently hard-hearted since its inception -- Children's tales from the isles tend to incorporate grim, straightforward lessons, funerals involve little more than rifling through the pockets and disposing of a corpse, and the societal expectation of the elderly and enfeebled to unburden their families through suicide is so strong that there is a specific Seolhi holiday for it, known as "Wandering Day."

Since Seolh was cast out to the Western isles, the reputation of the area has managed to improve very little, as it has bred a people known for little more than their clannish, territorial nature and their use of ships as year-round homes to escape their homeland's foul weather. They are stereotypically seen as untrustworthy for their insular customs, though this is also because of the multiple instances of cannibalism and shore raiding in times of famine. For their muddy homeland, territorial ways, and the belief that they routinely "eat their own eggs", they are often referred to as "The Turtle-People" by their Born brethren. They have taken this as a nationalistic symbol, particularly due to the prevalence of aggressive snapping turtles in the brackish rivers of the isles.

Following recent weather anomalies, the Seolhi were among the first to unanimously agree to the great migration, as they stand to have the most to gain. They are a maritime culture through and through, favoring seamanship over war or art, and have high expectations of their people's new place in a new Magnar. The Seolhi, after all, are able to take their prized homes with them, while the neighbors who they believe to have spat down on them from their stone towers [i]cannot[/i].[/indent]

[sub]• The ancient seat of the Seolhi monarchy is located in the southernmost tip of the isles, in a cliffside castle known as Urchin's Reach. It is walled off on all sides, with a tunnel entrance through a cove underneath the castle -- this is a protective measure, making the fortress only accessible during low tide, once at daybreak and once again at dusk.

• The Seolhi have contributed relatively few inventions to Magnar's history, though there are three that the isles rightfully take credit for; the lobster crate, the catamaran, and a style of eight-lined poem known as "Sküvosa". Aside from their original creations, the Seolhi isles supply the rest of Magnar through their trades with firstly with salt, as well as pearls, cured meats, and itinerant workers.[/sub]


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[indent]The Master of Seolhi, Einar Seolhi, is a man of seven-and-eighty. Though once known for his cunning intellect and shadowy diplomatic tactics -- namely bribery, intimidation, and extortion -- his once-devious mind is now a cloud of fragmented memories and nameless faces. These days, he is lucky if he remembers to wear his crown to court, much less the intricacies of ruling the realm. In fact, it is a well-kept secret within the walls of Urchin's Reach that Einar is unaware of the great migration taking place. For the last three years, he has believed it to be the last month of winter. In his stead, the realm is almost entirely lead by his remaining children, Oren and Suriah Seolhi.[/indent]

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[indent]In his youth, Einar Seolhi was known as "The Cloak of The West" for his reliance on secretive dealings and intrigue to rule the isles. His son Oren, on the other hand, is known by his men as "The Hammer of the West". After an attempt at Einar's life some fourty-odd years ago, he sent his only child to be sired as far from the Seolhi isles as possible, being raised by a landowning chieftain north of Magnar in exchange for a few cattle and a large chest of gold. Among the sons of Shebalog, Oren grew as harsh and cold as the land, focusing his waking hours avoiding the torment of his foster brothers and honing his skill with the hinterlander's weapon of choice; the Morningstar.

Oren returned twenty years later, half-blind and covered in a patchwork of scars, but quicker and stronger for having earned them. He is a warrior before he is a prince of the Seolhi court, and having never learned so much as how to rig a sail, his identity as a warrior is paramount in establishing dominance in his interactions. Though his father eagerly awaited his return, gifting him a sizable longboat and ancestral sword upon his arrival, there has always been a sense of bitterness on Oren's end for his father's abandonment, as well as for his return home coinciding with his father's slow descent into delirium.

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