I'm putting up a very much unfinished WIP so that you guys can at least get a rough feel for my intended flavor and position in the world. Might inspire people for story inputs too.

[hider=Vile Heart]
[center][h1][color=Crimson]Vile Heart Clan[/color][/h1][/center]
[b][color=SlateBlue]Chief Name & Description:[/color][/b] Elgar One-Hand

[b][color=SlateBlue]Government Type:[/color][/b] Tribal Chiefdom

[b][color=SlateBlue]Non Human Species Descriptions:[/color][/b] [Clans are mostly human, but non human allies/slaves/etc are allowed with GM approval]

[b][color=SlateBlue]Location:[/color][/b]
[hider][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/P44Mudg.png[/img][/center][/hider]
[b][color=SlateBlue]Regional Geography/Resources/Economy Details:[/color][/b]
Once pushed out of the more bountiful lands to the south, the Vile Heart now mainly inhabit a marsh-like tundra region on the mainland’s northern coast. In the long winters that reign here the perpetually drenched earth freezes up and yields almost no life. In the brief summers that follow, the terrain becomes a swampy death trap of treacherously deep ponds and soft mud that threatens to devour a man whole. Fresh water can only be found in the south, where the glaciers of the southern mountain range feed into icy cold streams that will keep the coastlands drenched and wet for centuries to come.

Life is harsh along the Misted Coast, but the people who have been pushed to these vile climes have learned to adapt. Constructing enclosures walled by dikes, they carve out humble islands that are drained and made livable for cattle and crops. Piece by piece, the tribes of the Red Marsh work to reclaim the land and make it tolerable, if not wholly livable.

The most noteworthy aspect of the Red Marsh is the ubiquitous, ancient ruins found all throughout the region. It is suspected that once a large city of the Old Ones stood in this place, but centuries of neglect and swampland rot have sunken the ruins below the water and the soft earth. All that remains are the tallest structures and towers, jutting out of the cold waters at odd angles. Many of these can still be entered, and if one follows them down one can descend beneath the earth to where the rest of the city is buried. It is a lightless pit where the ghosts and demons of a fallen age still haunt and relive the agony of their final days. Few men muster the bravery to venture below in search of ancient artifacts – none return.

On the opposite side of the Howling Bay, a steep icy cliff rises out of the water. Beyond it lie only snow and death, as far as anyone knows; for those are the lands of the pale-men, and those who venture into the snowstorms never return.

Their home land is poor in resources, barely enough to sustain a people, except in one respect: the Red Marsh and its many ruins are strangely resplendent in Ichor which is not only prized by their wicked witches, but also used to bargain with other clans – and, if rumors are true, even with beast men – for favors and resources. What’s more, the urban remains that fill the marsh are an excellent source of Old One relics, most of which are worthless baubles but whose mystical origin might nonetheless make them desirable to collectors and decadents.

[b][color=SlateBlue]Clan Description:[/color][/b]
The Vile Heart are one of at least a dozen splintered tribes that inhabit the northern wilderness. Although sharing in a vaguely blood-related heritage, they nonetheless spend much time feuding with one another over petty conflicts of land, honor and wives. Not so long ago, the great clans hardly knew who these people even were. It was only when, about four generations ago, the tribe vigorously assisted the Stonecutters in driving a significant pale-man incursion back into the blasted northlands that they were recognized as a legitimate clan at all. As thanks for their unexpected – but ruthlessly efficient – aid in the battle, a then young king Aigoth permitted them to sit at his table.

They are, in all respects, less developed than most people in the Broken Lands. Decades of isolation have cut them off from technological developments and rendered them culturally aloof. At best their mannerisms are considered mildly amusing and curious. At worst, they are seen as barbarians who share more in common with the beast men they so despise than they might realize. They have no true industry to speak of, nothing on the level of the Red Knots in any event. Their greatest industrial feat is the ability to carve out patches of dry land from an otherwise perpetually soaked marsh; for the rest they are a relatively primitive mixture of farmers and hunter-gatherers.

Although they have access to some iron from the nearby mountains, they nonetheless regularly employ bone and stone for simple tools like knives and arrows. Swords or iron tipped spears are considered a luxury, reserved for the strongest warriors. Metal armor is practically unheard of. Unsurprisingly, when it comes to warfare they prefer to avoid open conflicts, lacking both the numbers and the equipment to wage open field battles. When disaster compels them to do battle, they will seek every avenue possible to ambush, harass and weaken their enemy from the darkness. Should they be able to demoralize and thin out an enemy enough to actually defeat them in battle, they will take as many prisoners as they can. The Vile Heart greatly prize the possession of slaves, not least of all because of the circle of witches, whose frequent demands for blood can quickly thin the available stock. This is also the origin of their name: they are said to have the blackest hearts of all the northern tribes people because of the particular viciousness of their blood sacrifices.

[b][color=SlateBlue]Religion:[/color][/b]
The northern tribes all put much stock in animistic druids and shamans, but none of their wise men and women compare to the veritable cult that has established itself amidst the Vile Heart. A group of women, all hand-picked because of their alleged pale-man ancestry, practices its cruel rituals atop the largest surface-level ruin in the Red Marsh: the Iron Gardens, named so because of the massive, hideous tree of pure iron that grows atop the pyramidal structure. No man can say what it is or what perversion of natural law can allow it to exist, but the witches – as they are sometimes fearfully called – believe that it is a fledgling god in need of care and nourishment. One day its chrysalis will burst, and the Vile Heart will be rewarded for their diligence while their enemies will become slaves and corpses.

Some will say that it is superstitious madness borne of the desperation of a people driven to the edge of extinction. But Azoth is a dark world, filled with ancient demons alive and dead, and those awaiting their rebirth. The question is not if the Vile Heart are delusional. The only question is, if the men of the Broken Lands can afford to believe this.

[b][color=SlateBlue]Clan History:[/color][/b] [pls work with other players- our clans are all part of a single confederation, there will be a lot of shared history]

[b][color=SlateBlue]Important Characters:[/color][/b]
[u]Elgar One-Hand[/u]
A man covered in scars, most of them claw and bite marks, whose dogged joyfulness never wanes; even in the face of death. After a dreadful encounter in the stygian abyss beneath the Red Marsh, he emerged from the blackness a changed man: optimistic and full of life, a man thankful for every day he is still allowed to breathe. So horrible were the things he has seen, he seems incapable of fear any longer, as he boldly cuts a path through Pale-Men whenever he has to face them, never once even flinching at their shrill screams.

His days as a warrior are near their end, however; age is catching up to him, and his many wounds old and new – chiefly, his missing left hand – are making the warrior’s life ever harder. What he enjoys most these days is spending time with his family and grooming his potential heirs. An agreeable, if unscrupulous man who is well liked not only amongst his kin but amongst outsider clans too – if only because he sets a positive example for the otherwise dour and aloof tribesmen.

[i][u]The Witches[/u][/i]
[u]Rhawn the Wicked[/u]
A striking woman whose greasy black hair drags across the floor, she conveys an air of the tribal and primitive, the very essence of the northern tribes: clad in furs and coarse cloth and adorned with ornaments of bone. Although she can appear coy and reserved, she is pleasant to talk to; at least, if one isn’t her slave. She earned her name through her vulgar displays of power. Malcontent with merely sacrificing servants, she humiliates them and basks in the authority she enjoys. Some say she does it to combat – and fuel – her self-loathing.

[u]Aderyn the Versed[/u]
She diligently studies the language of the Old Ones, and the properties of Ichor, and takes great pride in her deep knowledge. Somewhat socially aloof, she will nonetheless go out of her way to criticize and educate others if they are wrong about something she believes she knows better. She always seems a bit on edge, possibly because of the portentous things she has learned, and has a tendency to drug herself into a stupor with a self-brewed concoction of herbs and Ichor when the fear becomes overwhelming. When asked about the brew, she claims that it helps her gain cosmic inspiration.

[u]Seren the Morose[/u]
An odd duckling amongst the witches – not only because of her bright blond hair – Seren is most often found in a sour mood. She strongly disagrees with the Vile Heart’s tradition of slave-keeping and would much prefer to use animal sacrifices to nourish the iron tree. Sometimes she even frees some captives, when no one is watching. Nonetheless, her ideas are most often met with derision and contempt, and her intrepid little escapades of freeing sacrificial slaves are only mildly punished. Powerless to change the ways of her people, she sulks.

[u]Mairwen the Fearful[/u]
The second-youngest of the witches, Mairwen is but a teenage girl who is struggling as much with occult ritual magic, and the dark gods that are called by it, as she does with her own budding womanhood. Aside from a few well-trusted confidantes, Mairwen is crippled by social anxiety and makes a poor conversationalist; she is far too caught up in her own world to care for someone else’s. She flourishes best when left alone where her creative genius can unfold. Having been introduced to writings of the Old Ones by Aderyn, she has developed a frightening knack for crafting new and ever more complex runes using their language. She has no idea what any of them mean, and most of them are merely signs, but who knows… perhaps one day she will craft the end of mankind, or decipher its salvation.

[u]Nerys the Godless[/u]
The youngest and most terrifying of all the witches, Nerys is speculated to have so much Pale-Man blood in her veins that there is hardly anything human at all in her. She is still a child, barely approaching her teens, and already her desire for causing pain and suffering are equal to none. Few men remain unaffected by the sight of a young girl gleefully cutting shallow lines into a screaming prisoner, and even the other witches worry what she might become in ten years.

[u]Carryl the Selfless[/u]
[u]Garwen the Avaricious[/u]
[u]Arianell the Belligerent[/u]

[b][color=SlateBlue]Important Holdings/Territory/Possessions:[/color][/b] [describe your settlements, limited to 3-4 cities, max, plus as many lesser holdings as make sense for your Clan]

[b][color=SlateBlue]Relation to other Factions:[/color][/b]

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